The Difference in a Day

It does not escape my attention that in the course of 24-48 hours, I've gone from encouraging someone to be that smile for another, that kind word to make someone's day, to openly cackling at a stranger who called me evil.

I suppose the lesson to learn is that while I strive to be one, life often finds me failing.  Miserably.

I strive to be social.  But God, I loved having today completely to myself.  I cleaned (not something I generally enjoy but often cathartic).  I walked 500 miles ... okay, nearly six, and there was wine and beer in the middle but still ....  I finished a book (the end of the Sookie Stackhouse era).  I shopped.  I cooked for myself.  Watched what I wanted when I wanted.  I strive to be social but am, in my heart, a selfish hermitess.

I strive to be kind but, damn, people piss me off.  The title of this blog came from a long-standing greeting that I have with my siblings:  "Have I told you lately how much I hate people?"  I probably made the wise choice to end it after "lately", eh.  Again, selfish hermitess.

I strive to be good but find that our definitions of good (yes, plural, there are many definitions of good in our culture) vary to such a degree that I'll always disappoint one faction or another.  I'd love to live simply by my Dad's motto of "You can't worry about that shit" (where's that t-shirt), but I'm pretty sure if we coded Mom's DNA, we'd find the original strand, original group of genes that, combined, form the perfect storm of continual apology and "oye vey" chant.

I strive to be funny and ... yeah, I mostly succeed at that, at least in my own mind.

So I strive and I fail ... comically.

I can live with that.

The Devil Inside

I was stopped earlier tonight at a red light, waiting to get onto the highway and head home.  Near my car was a man holding a sign.  Thinking of other things, I really didn't pay much attention until I realized that the man was pointing at me, at my car, and talking ... to himself, I guess. 

    Now ... this is the part of the story in which you probably think

I'll hear something that makes me pull out my wallet, right? 

 

Wrong.

My window was part way down.  As I directed my attention to the man to hear what he was saying, pointing at me, at my car, I hear - quite distinctly - that I am going to hell, that I have evil in my heart, that I am filled ... filled with the devil.  Over and over, the man was informing me that I am evil.  I have an evil heart.  So many variations but all essentially stating the same thing.  Evil-doer in our midst!

My reaction?  Well, friends and stalkers, my instant and spontaneous reaction probably earned me that direct connect downward. 

I laughed.  Loudly and heartily.  Hearing someone who knows nothing about me but that I drive a small blue toaster and listen to J.R.R. Tolkien during my commute - [oh, FINE, that probably earns me purgatory or something] - proclaim that I have the devil inside me made me guffaw. 

Cackle, even. 

And then I drove on. 

 

I don't know, perhaps the man says such things whenever someone comes to the light and doesn't look at him. It can't possibly make for a good business practice.  Does that ever convince someone to hand over $1, $5, $10?  Now, I know there are homeless people out there who need help but I also know there are people out there scamming others using that ruse and/or people simply looking for their next fix.  I can't tell the difference, therefore, I choose to help in other ways, in other places, instead of wondering if it was my $5 that covered the last pint or last rock that put someone in the ground or in a violent rage. 

 

So if you're reading this and judging me ...

 

 ....well, whatever, start mumbling that I'm evil and headed to hell.

 

And I'll keep chuckling.  Deal?

Nope, I haven't.

I haven't told you much lately.

I've been out of touch, off the "grid", lazy and mute.

My last post was August 2012.  What's happened since then?

I crashed and burned; that's what.

Crashed. Burned. Gained 20+ lbs above the already 40+ I was over "normal" weight.

So ... this is a purging.  A purging of my failure.  What can I say?  I'm tired of being silent about a slow increase, slow failure, slow delusion I used to cover the up 5 lbs but no one will notice.  Up 10 lbs but I love to eat.  Up 20 lbs but I love to drink.  Up and up and up ... I always had an excuse.  A rationalization.  A reason why it wasn't time yet.

Time for what?

Time for me to get my act the hell together.  Time to stop procrastinating.

I worked out harder than ever before last summer.  Boot camp, city classes, climbs up the 140+ stairs on Division.  I worked out ... and expanded.  I worked out ... and gained. 

And I broke.  That's the only way I can really describe it.  I broke.  I went off the deep end of dieting/eating/trying to be healthy.  Or, perhaps more correctly, I fell off the wagon.  'Cause let's not kid ourselves friends and stalkers ... I'm addicted to food.  I'm a foodaholic.  Sugaraholic.  Carbaholic.  What-the-hell-ever-aholic covers the 'holic I am.

When I continued to expand despite my 5:30 a.m. boot camp ... I broke.

I stopped exercising ... completely.

I stopped curbing what I ate ... completely.

Papa John's and I entered into an intimate relationship.  Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory became my friend.  I. Didn't. Care. Anymore.

And I packed on another 20 lbs by Christmas. 

I felt miserable.  Ashamed.  Hopeless even.

See ... I did this already.  I lost the weight already.  I got in shape already.  DAMMIT.  What the HELL am I doing back "here" again?  Buying bigger and bigger sizes.  Turning away from pictures.  Putting non-me pictures as my profile on Facebook (you know ... the important things).

I broke.

And, I'm ashamed to say, I waited until I am well on my way to "fixed" before I admitted it.

I went back to the program that helped me before (in 2006); I went back to Spectrum Health and opted for the strict 12 week to 18 week program.  From January 3rd for 12 weeks, I consumed 800-900 calories a day of mostly protein.  [Oh, yes, you "read" me correctly - 800-900 calories.]  Then I added in regular food again and am back to about 1200 calories day.

From January 3rd to now, I've lost 51 lbs.  About five months.

I've gone from a size of (one pair of dress pants) 18 to size 8-10.  A reset, if you will.

And now the real work begins.  What's that?  Haven't I already done the "real work"? 

Oh, hell no.

The REAL work is maintaining once I reach my goal weight.  The real work is finding the healthy balance of eating healthy and living well. 

After all ... I'm not getting any younger. 

[I had to stop and laugh a few minutes at that.]

So ... what did I do wrong the first time?  Am I destined to revisit this hell every 5-7 years?  That's both difficult and easy to answer at the same time. 

I stopped going.

I stopped going to group.

Does that sound like an addict's statement?  'Cause it should.

 I'm addicted.

I stopped going to my group meetings - Wednesday nights. 

Group meetings for fatties?  Whaaaat? 

Absolutely.  Group meetings in which we keep accountability.  We revisit information on nutrition, on exercise, on behavior modification.  Most importantly for me ... accountability.  I thought I had this covered.  I thought ... no problem, I know what I need to do.  Well ... that's true.  I know what I need to do BUT that doesn't mean I'll do it. 

So where am I now?  I'm down 51 lbs and am not yet where I want to be.  Where I KNOW I can be because I've been there before.  I'm still going to group even though I'm done with the main program.  I'm still journaling the calories I consume (alcohol is a bitch BTW). 

And I just signed up for boot camp again.

I have to face my fear that hard exercise will equal weight GAIN and inch EXPANSION.  I know now that I let myself eat way more than I should last summer because I was working out so hard.  My hormones were crazy (over 40 is a BIIIIITCH).  I didn't account for water retention and inflammation from sore muscles.  Oh, yeah ... I've thought A LOT about this.  And I know I need to face my fear. 

So, last night I started back with boot camp with the army assessment test.  [And I suck but it's okay 'cause I DID it.]

I'm back on track ... full steam ahead ... goal in mind.

Oh ... and another difference. 

I'm doing this for me.

I've no thought of getting in shape for a guy.  Even a fictional maybe guy.  Guys were SOOOOO pre-40.  I'm done with that.  Seriously.  Mr. Right would now have to be Mr. Incredibly-No-Fucking-Way-Right for it to 'cause me any pause.  No offense guys.

I'm just finally at that space in life where I have my home the way I like it.  My activities the way I like them.  My life the way I like it.  There's just no room for you.  [Evil laugh.]

This is ALL for me.

And that's perfect.


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There it is - hello after 10 months.  I totally swear I didn't have a baby (although I've lost the equivalent of a 6 year old in weight).

*purged*