Guess what? My life has been so boring lately. I have very little to blog about. At the moment I am crocheting a hat. I have been starting and re-starting this hat so many times that the yarn is staring to break. Let’s just say I am not going to be making hats for a living. The only thing I have going for me is the fact that I am very persistent; almost to a fault. When and if I finish my hat I will post it on my blog. I would cross my fingers, and hope for the best but I have calluses on them.
I have been doing very well losing my six pounds. So far I have lost 3.5 pounds. (Round of applause. I know you can’t see me, but I am bowing.) Here is my secret: I stopped eating at night. Sigh…I love to chow down at night, but I realized that it was one of the reasons why getting fat. I made the choice to not eat after dinner. I drink A LOT of tea, and go to bed very early, but so far so good. I keep reminding myself that it is working, so I keep sloshing around with tea in my tummy.
It has been hard to type my blog, because my hands are pretty busy. During the day I am crocheting, and at night my hands are white knuckling a book. I will see you all in a few days. I am hoping that there will be a hat on my head and I will be 2.5 pounds lighter.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Filler Up
I went to see my lapband doctor last week and he feels, “That my laband is at full capacity and there is no need to fill it.” Did you happen to catch the FULL CAPACITY part? I thought we could keep filling these things up until the cows came home; apparently not so much.
He told me that if he overfills the band it could cause compilations like corrosion, which would mean removal. Sold! I am fine. Don’t touch it; leave it alone. Giddy up; I am leaving. He still insisted on “checking” to see how much was saline was actually in my band. Didn’t I tell you not to touch it? I am just guessing here- the reason that he didn’t honour my request is because, I don’t have a medical degree or a white coat so he won. Out came the needle and he checked the saline; everything was where it was suppose to be. Boy was I relieved. (I was kind of hoping for him to say, “Oh my! I was wrong you DO need a slight fill. Oh man do I feel foolish.”
After getting my bandage I stood up and said, “I guess we are done here. Thank you for everything. Thank you for saving my life.”
My doctor raised his eyebrows and said, “I will see you in six months.”
Now the picture was coming into focus: NO MORE FILLS! OMG! OMG! I asked him, “Am I done losing weight without the help of the band?” (How could he answer that? But I was grasping at straws here.)
He replied, “You have done very well with the band. You lost 76 pounds, (I rock!) and that is very good. (Ahem, he meant to say fabulous.) You will probably lose more, but it will be harder. (I hate hard that is why I got the band!) After time your pouch does stretch, so it will hold more food, and you may get hungrier sooner. (How come he is only telling me this now?) Bur the good news is; it will be harder to gain weight. (He must not read my blog. Thank goodness he doesn’t read my blog, or I might have some ‘splaining to do.)
Am I sad? No not at all. I have some secrets that my doctor does not know.
First: For the last six months I have been living on “slider” foods.
Two: I have been drinking while I eat. (Tisk-tisk.)
Three: I have parked myself in the bakery, and ate whatever I felt like.
Four: I do not eat three meals a day.
Five: I don’t eat slowly.
Six: I put sauce on most food to help it go down easy, because I am too lazy to actually chew.
Seven: I have not been exercising religiously.
I know my band is ACTUALLY able to work if I let it do its job. I know that I would not be hungry between meals if I followed my plan. I know my pouch has not gotten bigger because I am not able to pig out. If you looked up “model lapband patient” in the dictionary you would not see my picture. But the weird thing is; I still managed to get down to 173 pounds. I know! I can’t figure it out either. Can you imagine what I would get to if I actually did what I was supposed to do? (I don’t know if I believe his scale because my scale still says 180, and my pants are still giving me oh-so-sexy muffin top.)
I don’t like it when someone like my doctor tells me that I did excellent, and I know that I half-assed it. I owe it to myself to do what I came here to do, which is live like a person who has a band. After all isn’t that what I signed up for? I want to see how many more pounds I can lose if I really try. You mean actually work with my band? What a novel thought! My doctor is going to poop his pants when he sees me in six months. (We won’t tell him I finally started working with my band.)
I am VERY proud of my accomplishments. I am really proud. As of this moment I am overweight compared to morbidly obese. Can you believe it? HA! My doctor was so proud of me that he took pictures of me to put on a website. Before and after photos! I must be smokin’ hot- let me check…yes I just looked in the mirror and I am indeed hot. Imagine it- I am going to be on the internet! I have a confession- It makes happier to be part of this blog than to be anywhere else on the internet.
On a side note- David often catches me checking myself out in the mirror. I feel like I did when I was a thirteen in my bedroom dancing and singing into my hairbrush to Madonna’s Like a Virgin, and my mom would walk in and catch my afternoon performance. Eek! “I wasn’t doing anything. Hey don’t you knock?” Mirror, mirror on the wall…
He told me that if he overfills the band it could cause compilations like corrosion, which would mean removal. Sold! I am fine. Don’t touch it; leave it alone. Giddy up; I am leaving. He still insisted on “checking” to see how much was saline was actually in my band. Didn’t I tell you not to touch it? I am just guessing here- the reason that he didn’t honour my request is because, I don’t have a medical degree or a white coat so he won. Out came the needle and he checked the saline; everything was where it was suppose to be. Boy was I relieved. (I was kind of hoping for him to say, “Oh my! I was wrong you DO need a slight fill. Oh man do I feel foolish.”
After getting my bandage I stood up and said, “I guess we are done here. Thank you for everything. Thank you for saving my life.”
My doctor raised his eyebrows and said, “I will see you in six months.”
Now the picture was coming into focus: NO MORE FILLS! OMG! OMG! I asked him, “Am I done losing weight without the help of the band?” (How could he answer that? But I was grasping at straws here.)
He replied, “You have done very well with the band. You lost 76 pounds, (I rock!) and that is very good. (Ahem, he meant to say fabulous.) You will probably lose more, but it will be harder. (I hate hard that is why I got the band!) After time your pouch does stretch, so it will hold more food, and you may get hungrier sooner. (How come he is only telling me this now?) Bur the good news is; it will be harder to gain weight. (He must not read my blog. Thank goodness he doesn’t read my blog, or I might have some ‘splaining to do.)
Am I sad? No not at all. I have some secrets that my doctor does not know.
First: For the last six months I have been living on “slider” foods.
Two: I have been drinking while I eat. (Tisk-tisk.)
Three: I have parked myself in the bakery, and ate whatever I felt like.
Four: I do not eat three meals a day.
Five: I don’t eat slowly.
Six: I put sauce on most food to help it go down easy, because I am too lazy to actually chew.
Seven: I have not been exercising religiously.
I know my band is ACTUALLY able to work if I let it do its job. I know that I would not be hungry between meals if I followed my plan. I know my pouch has not gotten bigger because I am not able to pig out. If you looked up “model lapband patient” in the dictionary you would not see my picture. But the weird thing is; I still managed to get down to 173 pounds. I know! I can’t figure it out either. Can you imagine what I would get to if I actually did what I was supposed to do? (I don’t know if I believe his scale because my scale still says 180, and my pants are still giving me oh-so-sexy muffin top.)
I don’t like it when someone like my doctor tells me that I did excellent, and I know that I half-assed it. I owe it to myself to do what I came here to do, which is live like a person who has a band. After all isn’t that what I signed up for? I want to see how many more pounds I can lose if I really try. You mean actually work with my band? What a novel thought! My doctor is going to poop his pants when he sees me in six months. (We won’t tell him I finally started working with my band.)
I am VERY proud of my accomplishments. I am really proud. As of this moment I am overweight compared to morbidly obese. Can you believe it? HA! My doctor was so proud of me that he took pictures of me to put on a website. Before and after photos! I must be smokin’ hot- let me check…yes I just looked in the mirror and I am indeed hot. Imagine it- I am going to be on the internet! I have a confession- It makes happier to be part of this blog than to be anywhere else on the internet.
On a side note- David often catches me checking myself out in the mirror. I feel like I did when I was a thirteen in my bedroom dancing and singing into my hairbrush to Madonna’s Like a Virgin, and my mom would walk in and catch my afternoon performance. Eek! “I wasn’t doing anything. Hey don’t you knock?” Mirror, mirror on the wall…
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Call Me What You Want...LA LA LA...I AM Not Listening Anymore! LA LA LA
This may seem odd but this post is about my bathrobe. I had a “friend”, and I used that term as loosely as possible that hated people who wore bathrobes. Every time we were in a store which had bathrobes she would remind me of her hatred against women who wore bathrobes. What I didn’t tell her was I had a robe hanging in my closet. However, during our friendship I did not wear my bathrobe, because when I would go to put it on I would hear her voice calling me a “loser piece of trailer trash”. Why did I put up with this and so much more negativity? We were friends for over 25 years, I thought I loved her, and I didn’t realize she was abusing me.
When I had my weight-loss surgery she dumped me via email. (I know tacky, huh?) I am going to post the actual email just to give you an idea of what she was like. The following has not been edited in anyway except the names have been removed out of courtesy. Also I have put stars in places that I want to discuss after the letter. This letter was written November, 2007.
Hi there,
Well, this is not going to be what you want to get from me, but hey "let's be honest before we start lying to each other". I'm really sorry, but I am not going to be able to come up next weekend. As I always say, if you're not living on the edge- you're taking up too much space; however I seem to be way too close to the edge as of right now. I'm really trying to be rational and not get overly emotional while still allowing myself to feel these days as that seems to be the healthiest space for me. Let me explain: this will be train of thought, stream of consciousness style as that's when I can get most honest with myself. Right now I need a break. I don't know how much of it is you, but I'm definitely aware of how much of it is me. A lot of this will sound accusatory; I wish it didn't. I've lied to you so much in the last few months specifically about your weight loss surgery. I'm pretty sure that's what got me started on the bad feelings. It wasn't all bad by any means. It was actually so wonderful in my suspended world of denial for awhile. I said most things to keep the peace and got so many wonderful memories and good times recently, so it seemed worth it- but it's seeping into the rest of my life and the web is getting too tangled now. I wish I could have told you how much I didn't want you to mutilate your body, how much I thought that there were other things that should have been tried first. You should be able to do as you please without my approval. I just went along with everything you said because I was afraid of making you angry. I thought I was willing to exchange your happiness for my integrity, but it turns out I'm not. Now I can see some of the fruits of your labor, not really the weight loss- I think I'm just programmed not to care about that; my family always said I was so much happier in the arms of a 'big' person even as a baby that my tummy would stop hurting and I would just fall asleep. Still, I do see that you look healthy and seem to be proud of all your hard work. I also see something very scary in the way that you now judge every person that walks by* and you're so preoccupied with weight over and above all else as if that's the only thing a person has of worth. It's so hard for me to see that in you. I want to be supportive, yet I'm not there. I might get there and I might never. I finally like my body in the past couple of years, even more than I ever could have when I was thin. I love how strong and energetic I always feel- not sick and weak like I did in college. I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be in so many ways. I was able to handle being the center of attention in California.** I think that sharing that with my husband is the only way I could have ever done that. I was able to accept so much love and I didn't totally freak out. I realize now that those years of lies about my mom stole so much from me. That's why I can't do it with you now. So I have to tell you that yes, you do often remind me of her and it's scary. The feelings of not knowing what will upset you or wondering how much is really you.*** I know I totally screwed up any chances of dealing with my mom on any level by lying way too long. I'm not going to do that with you. So I have to find space when I need it and then be able to move on. I'm still in the process of learning how to do that. Right now I just know that the holiday season is never really as easy as I would like it to be as far as trying to tell myself that it doesn't matter that I have no family to speak of. I wish I wasn't vulnerable to the dumb ideals. I also know that I have way too much wrapped up in diet hell. I really can't begin to explain what any kind of food restriction does to me, how emotional that issue is. Yes, you've heard me say it- and unless I screamed it in the street for 24 hours straight I fear you couldn't possibly get it. So that's the major dilemma right now- how to deal supportively with you while dealing with that side of me that just doesn't see a happy normal between us about this issue. All I can see is that I'm terrified of being in a household where the 'mother' has extreme diet restrictions**** and I just can't do it right now. I think it's making me hypersensitive to lots of other small things. I can feel myself over-relating to you as if you were my mom and I can't do that anymore. It will literally push me over the edge. When I joke about walking a fine line, it's not really a joke. I barely made it through this past weekend and I'm not ready to try it again right now. I am SO SORRY and I feel so bad that I have not been fair by having you down here and not reciprocating enough. I feel bad that I lied to you. I want you to be so successful in your endeavor and I want to get through my feelings about all of this. I can't help thinking that the feelings I have are exacerbated by all the crap my sister has put me through and it's not fair that you should take the brunt of that. I wish it wasn't so and I need you to let me get through this in my own way. I will send you or get to you Holly's game and your stickers in time for Christmas.
Loving you- even through all the emotional pain…
* We went out one weekend, and I remarked that some people could benefit from weight-loss surgery. I was excited and I believed and I still do that it is a wonderful tool. If we were together now, I would do the same thing. I encourage a lot of people to take advantage of lapband surgery if they ask me about it.
**She got re-married in California the summer of 2007. My husband had decided to go back to school, so money was an issue, but being that she was my best friend I wasn’t going to miss her big day. We paid the money and took part in her celebrations. Apparently, she had already decided to let me go, but wanted a last “good time” before we parted company. Reflecting back I think that was selfish and unnecessary. Also the worse part was the Pet Shop Boys were playing in LA during the week we were in California. The PSB are my all-time favorite group of all time. They rarely come to North America, and what were the odds I would be in the same area as those guys? It was meant to be, right? No, I was a good friend and I stayed with my "friend" instead. HAH what a fool I was.
***She was very abusive the last time we were together; it was so bad that I cried at her remarks. I assume that she saw my outbrust as scary, but she failed to realize it was her behaviour that led me to my sobs. Now I shake my head and wonder why I put up with it for so long.
****She seemed to be extremely concerned that I might put locks on the cupboards and the whole family would live on nothing but “band” friendly foods. Does she read my blog? You will be happy to know my daughter is happy and well adjusted when it comes to food. David and I work hard against society’s preoccupation with weight and the pressures it can put on little girls. We tell her she is “perfect”. (Which she is!)
It has been over a year since this letter was delivered to my email account. It was a hard loss to take. The hardest part was what came after the letter. I carried her negative voice in my ear. I would criticize myself, berate my hairstyle, and most importantly shun my bathrobe. It was a very long and painful time in my life.
Then one day I was getting dressed, and to my surprise it was quiet; there was no berating chatter in my head telling me negative things. In fact the voice had been gone for days; I just hadn’t noticed. I went about my days happy in the knowledge that I was recovering from a bad relationship.
That was until I went into the closet! I can’t believe it- that damn bitchy voice came back! It was prattling on about the bathrobe! I would look at my bathrobe and walk away sadly knowing that my mind had been defeated by her negativity. Maybe tomorrow I thought. The days passed with the same results. No bathrobe. “White trailer trash.” Defeat.
I don’t know what caused my chill that day, but David brought me my robe to wear. He put it on me like a gentleman puts on a lady’s coat. I had no choice but to accept the robe. How could I not? I was cold, and I knew this whole dialogue in my head was ridiculous.
Crap something was wrong. The robe didn’t fit. I had not worn it since I had the weight-loss surgery so it was too big. The robe wrapped around my whole body twice; it was totally crazy, but surprisingly warm and cozy. “Hey David, Can I have my slippers too?” (You don’t even want to know what she said about woman who wore robes AND slippers!)Alright here is the thing: I wore the robe that was almost 5 sizes too big for me for months. I am sure it was not attractive.
So for Christmas I asked for a smaller robe. I am happy to report I got one. It is the softest, warmest, robe in the entire world. I am also happier to say that I live in my new robe. I even sleep in my robe. I wear my robe with my jeans. I wear my robe over my work out wear. Hell I have even worn robe to my neighbours’ house! Me and my robe are inseparable. I LOVE my robe. I am wearing my robe as I write this blog. I wish I could send you a robe just like this one, so you could experience the wonderfulness of this robe, but as I said my husband is a student; otherwise I would.
As for Madam X I don’t know what to say. I am sure whenever she passes a robe she still points out how much she hates people who wear them. I am also sure that she is miserable, and lonely. And more importantly I am positive she misses me. As for me I wish I could say the same.
When I had my weight-loss surgery she dumped me via email. (I know tacky, huh?) I am going to post the actual email just to give you an idea of what she was like. The following has not been edited in anyway except the names have been removed out of courtesy. Also I have put stars in places that I want to discuss after the letter. This letter was written November, 2007.
Hi there,
Well, this is not going to be what you want to get from me, but hey "let's be honest before we start lying to each other". I'm really sorry, but I am not going to be able to come up next weekend. As I always say, if you're not living on the edge- you're taking up too much space; however I seem to be way too close to the edge as of right now. I'm really trying to be rational and not get overly emotional while still allowing myself to feel these days as that seems to be the healthiest space for me. Let me explain: this will be train of thought, stream of consciousness style as that's when I can get most honest with myself. Right now I need a break. I don't know how much of it is you, but I'm definitely aware of how much of it is me. A lot of this will sound accusatory; I wish it didn't. I've lied to you so much in the last few months specifically about your weight loss surgery. I'm pretty sure that's what got me started on the bad feelings. It wasn't all bad by any means. It was actually so wonderful in my suspended world of denial for awhile. I said most things to keep the peace and got so many wonderful memories and good times recently, so it seemed worth it- but it's seeping into the rest of my life and the web is getting too tangled now. I wish I could have told you how much I didn't want you to mutilate your body, how much I thought that there were other things that should have been tried first. You should be able to do as you please without my approval. I just went along with everything you said because I was afraid of making you angry. I thought I was willing to exchange your happiness for my integrity, but it turns out I'm not. Now I can see some of the fruits of your labor, not really the weight loss- I think I'm just programmed not to care about that; my family always said I was so much happier in the arms of a 'big' person even as a baby that my tummy would stop hurting and I would just fall asleep. Still, I do see that you look healthy and seem to be proud of all your hard work. I also see something very scary in the way that you now judge every person that walks by* and you're so preoccupied with weight over and above all else as if that's the only thing a person has of worth. It's so hard for me to see that in you. I want to be supportive, yet I'm not there. I might get there and I might never. I finally like my body in the past couple of years, even more than I ever could have when I was thin. I love how strong and energetic I always feel- not sick and weak like I did in college. I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be in so many ways. I was able to handle being the center of attention in California.** I think that sharing that with my husband is the only way I could have ever done that. I was able to accept so much love and I didn't totally freak out. I realize now that those years of lies about my mom stole so much from me. That's why I can't do it with you now. So I have to tell you that yes, you do often remind me of her and it's scary. The feelings of not knowing what will upset you or wondering how much is really you.*** I know I totally screwed up any chances of dealing with my mom on any level by lying way too long. I'm not going to do that with you. So I have to find space when I need it and then be able to move on. I'm still in the process of learning how to do that. Right now I just know that the holiday season is never really as easy as I would like it to be as far as trying to tell myself that it doesn't matter that I have no family to speak of. I wish I wasn't vulnerable to the dumb ideals. I also know that I have way too much wrapped up in diet hell. I really can't begin to explain what any kind of food restriction does to me, how emotional that issue is. Yes, you've heard me say it- and unless I screamed it in the street for 24 hours straight I fear you couldn't possibly get it. So that's the major dilemma right now- how to deal supportively with you while dealing with that side of me that just doesn't see a happy normal between us about this issue. All I can see is that I'm terrified of being in a household where the 'mother' has extreme diet restrictions**** and I just can't do it right now. I think it's making me hypersensitive to lots of other small things. I can feel myself over-relating to you as if you were my mom and I can't do that anymore. It will literally push me over the edge. When I joke about walking a fine line, it's not really a joke. I barely made it through this past weekend and I'm not ready to try it again right now. I am SO SORRY and I feel so bad that I have not been fair by having you down here and not reciprocating enough. I feel bad that I lied to you. I want you to be so successful in your endeavor and I want to get through my feelings about all of this. I can't help thinking that the feelings I have are exacerbated by all the crap my sister has put me through and it's not fair that you should take the brunt of that. I wish it wasn't so and I need you to let me get through this in my own way. I will send you or get to you Holly's game and your stickers in time for Christmas.
Loving you- even through all the emotional pain…
* We went out one weekend, and I remarked that some people could benefit from weight-loss surgery. I was excited and I believed and I still do that it is a wonderful tool. If we were together now, I would do the same thing. I encourage a lot of people to take advantage of lapband surgery if they ask me about it.
**She got re-married in California the summer of 2007. My husband had decided to go back to school, so money was an issue, but being that she was my best friend I wasn’t going to miss her big day. We paid the money and took part in her celebrations. Apparently, she had already decided to let me go, but wanted a last “good time” before we parted company. Reflecting back I think that was selfish and unnecessary. Also the worse part was the Pet Shop Boys were playing in LA during the week we were in California. The PSB are my all-time favorite group of all time. They rarely come to North America, and what were the odds I would be in the same area as those guys? It was meant to be, right? No, I was a good friend and I stayed with my "friend" instead. HAH what a fool I was.
***She was very abusive the last time we were together; it was so bad that I cried at her remarks. I assume that she saw my outbrust as scary, but she failed to realize it was her behaviour that led me to my sobs. Now I shake my head and wonder why I put up with it for so long.
****She seemed to be extremely concerned that I might put locks on the cupboards and the whole family would live on nothing but “band” friendly foods. Does she read my blog? You will be happy to know my daughter is happy and well adjusted when it comes to food. David and I work hard against society’s preoccupation with weight and the pressures it can put on little girls. We tell her she is “perfect”. (Which she is!)
It has been over a year since this letter was delivered to my email account. It was a hard loss to take. The hardest part was what came after the letter. I carried her negative voice in my ear. I would criticize myself, berate my hairstyle, and most importantly shun my bathrobe. It was a very long and painful time in my life.
Then one day I was getting dressed, and to my surprise it was quiet; there was no berating chatter in my head telling me negative things. In fact the voice had been gone for days; I just hadn’t noticed. I went about my days happy in the knowledge that I was recovering from a bad relationship.
That was until I went into the closet! I can’t believe it- that damn bitchy voice came back! It was prattling on about the bathrobe! I would look at my bathrobe and walk away sadly knowing that my mind had been defeated by her negativity. Maybe tomorrow I thought. The days passed with the same results. No bathrobe. “White trailer trash.” Defeat.
I don’t know what caused my chill that day, but David brought me my robe to wear. He put it on me like a gentleman puts on a lady’s coat. I had no choice but to accept the robe. How could I not? I was cold, and I knew this whole dialogue in my head was ridiculous.
Crap something was wrong. The robe didn’t fit. I had not worn it since I had the weight-loss surgery so it was too big. The robe wrapped around my whole body twice; it was totally crazy, but surprisingly warm and cozy. “Hey David, Can I have my slippers too?” (You don’t even want to know what she said about woman who wore robes AND slippers!)Alright here is the thing: I wore the robe that was almost 5 sizes too big for me for months. I am sure it was not attractive.
So for Christmas I asked for a smaller robe. I am happy to report I got one. It is the softest, warmest, robe in the entire world. I am also happier to say that I live in my new robe. I even sleep in my robe. I wear my robe with my jeans. I wear my robe over my work out wear. Hell I have even worn robe to my neighbours’ house! Me and my robe are inseparable. I LOVE my robe. I am wearing my robe as I write this blog. I wish I could send you a robe just like this one, so you could experience the wonderfulness of this robe, but as I said my husband is a student; otherwise I would.
As for Madam X I don’t know what to say. I am sure whenever she passes a robe she still points out how much she hates people who wear them. I am also sure that she is miserable, and lonely. And more importantly I am positive she misses me. As for me I wish I could say the same.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
How Many Times Must I Ask You to Leave?
Sigh…1
Groan…2
Moan…3
Sniffle…4
Cry…5
Sob hysterically as I throw the bathroom scale out the window…6
Count ‘em up: 6 pounds!
I now weigh…I don’t want to tell you. Putting my weight on my blog makes it so real. If I don’t tell anyone else I can reason my weight gain away. Those 6 pounds must be from all the water that my skin absorbed during my shower. (And I didn’t even calculate in my wet short hair- Hey maybe I lost weight!)
Or how about this reasoning:
Me: I gained six pounds. Crappy!
My Brain: Don’t worry about those pounds. They are no big deal.
Me: Why do you say that?
My Brain: Remember we drank like 70 oz. of water yesterday. We also drank some water during the night; remember it was when we got up to pee?
Me: Yeah, but that was like a quarter of a glass.
My Brain: Well it still counts. Oh yeah and we had a cup of tea, and a venti Starbucks mocha yesterday. That plus the 70 oz of water must equal out to be 6 pounds worth of water.
Me: Maybe…
My Brain: Well, maybe you are retaining water! I hate to say this, and I wasn’t going to, but your ankles do look big and scary.
Me: Shut up; wait, now that you mentioned it my ankles do look like cankles.
My Brain: I know that is what I thought! Looking at those cankles I would say that we are retaining at least 10 pounds of water.
Me: So that would mean that I lost 4 pounds!
My Brain: Nope, I am just messing with you. You really did gain 6 pounds.
Me: How did I do that?
My Brain: Seriously? Are you seriously asking me that question? Because we both know how you gained 6 pounds; and let me say you got off easy with just 6 pounds! Please tell me you are not serious.
Me: Shut up, I am going to go and throw this scale in the garbage.
My Brain: Don’t forget to throw out the cookies, the brownies, the refined carbs, the cheese… oh forget it you’re not listening anymore.
Okay, so I am back at 180 pounds exactly. There I said it. It doesn’t make me feel better, or even more determined to lose the weight just because I confessed it to you. It just makes me know that I am in need of a fill. I knew I needed a fill at the beginning of December, but my doctor wasn’t able to accommodate me until January 15th. As a result Christmas was an “anything-goes-down” experience. And now I am stuck lugging around six pounds of cookie dough.
By the way, I did take my brain's advice and I got rid of the junk food.
Groan…2
Moan…3
Sniffle…4
Cry…5
Sob hysterically as I throw the bathroom scale out the window…6
Count ‘em up: 6 pounds!
I now weigh…I don’t want to tell you. Putting my weight on my blog makes it so real. If I don’t tell anyone else I can reason my weight gain away. Those 6 pounds must be from all the water that my skin absorbed during my shower. (And I didn’t even calculate in my wet short hair- Hey maybe I lost weight!)
Or how about this reasoning:
Me: I gained six pounds. Crappy!
My Brain: Don’t worry about those pounds. They are no big deal.
Me: Why do you say that?
My Brain: Remember we drank like 70 oz. of water yesterday. We also drank some water during the night; remember it was when we got up to pee?
Me: Yeah, but that was like a quarter of a glass.
My Brain: Well it still counts. Oh yeah and we had a cup of tea, and a venti Starbucks mocha yesterday. That plus the 70 oz of water must equal out to be 6 pounds worth of water.
Me: Maybe…
My Brain: Well, maybe you are retaining water! I hate to say this, and I wasn’t going to, but your ankles do look big and scary.
Me: Shut up; wait, now that you mentioned it my ankles do look like cankles.
My Brain: I know that is what I thought! Looking at those cankles I would say that we are retaining at least 10 pounds of water.
Me: So that would mean that I lost 4 pounds!
My Brain: Nope, I am just messing with you. You really did gain 6 pounds.
Me: How did I do that?
My Brain: Seriously? Are you seriously asking me that question? Because we both know how you gained 6 pounds; and let me say you got off easy with just 6 pounds! Please tell me you are not serious.
Me: Shut up, I am going to go and throw this scale in the garbage.
My Brain: Don’t forget to throw out the cookies, the brownies, the refined carbs, the cheese… oh forget it you’re not listening anymore.
Okay, so I am back at 180 pounds exactly. There I said it. It doesn’t make me feel better, or even more determined to lose the weight just because I confessed it to you. It just makes me know that I am in need of a fill. I knew I needed a fill at the beginning of December, but my doctor wasn’t able to accommodate me until January 15th. As a result Christmas was an “anything-goes-down” experience. And now I am stuck lugging around six pounds of cookie dough.
By the way, I did take my brain's advice and I got rid of the junk food.
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