Support and Strange Longings

Today is a thank you comment. I am thinking about the nature of getting support from other people. I have continued to be touched by the kindness of strangers here in cyberspace. Hearing words like "you will lose every last pound" has been what I have needed as I sit at 183, 184 and I think 184.5 this morning (eyes blurry, not motivated to see it anyway.)

I am not sure what to do during this time. I long to go back on P2 because it worked so fast and so well and despite my bitching and moaning, I knew what I was supposed to do. Not many decisions to make, because it was all about just following the protocol and being happy to see the nifty recipes for things like baked apple.

How long must I wait to get back on P2? What do we do once we land at goal weight? I am maintaining mine OK - but feel ready to lose more - and not the "regular" way either.

Am I insane?

If I stopped injection March 30 do I wait 4 weeks? 6 weeks? I don't want to start P2 again too soon and mess things up.

Am I CRAZY to long for P2?

Perhaps I have not internalized the principals of "healthy eating" completely - I admit I have veered from vegetables which I have never loved. Perhaps I long for more structure - like being released from prison and asking to be re-admitted?

As it is, thank you all for your support.

Not surprisingly, I have to work this weekend because Trial is on Tuesday. I just realized I have not tried on my Bitchin' Big Girl Suit for awhile - I wonder if it fits.

xoxoxo to all of you.

Keep At It

Well, ended up eating pizza and started the long downward Oh Fuck This slide. Realized again that I am not doing that anymore. Went and lifted weights with Trevor and it made all the difference. Nothing like 20 pounds off my body to make the warm up (treadmill) easier. And I haven't lost as much lean as I anticipated because I can still KICK ASS on legs. And did as many abs as hubby did.

Sometimes it takes a friend or husband or someone to literally drag you out of the doldrums. Nothing like the Nike ad re: Just Do It. I immediately felt better physically, and then of course, mentally perked up, felt less avoidant and anxious, and you know the rest.

Why is it so hard to remember this feeling, this recall that yes, I can do this, that yes, it's just a lifted weight, a walk on the treadmill or the putting down of pizza away?

Sadness and despair creep in, like a fog. The deal with my parents, taking on extra hard cases, trying to (always) re-invent my practice to keep up with the economy and the changing times and the needs of my population, not sleeping, it all catches up with a person. And then you are sitting eating pizza and FORTUNE COOKIES (jesus - fortune cookies?) at the computer and feeling despair and that you will never take off the last 30 lbs.

And so, you must begin again and again and again... and no matter if I have to begin anew every fucking 10 minutes, then I suppose that it what it takes. Because what is the alternative? The slide into helplessness? A rage against advancing age and sagging flesh? Fuck That.

I'm dusting off my damn George Foreman.

And I'm finishing this report that as I write it, makes me despair of humanity the absolute lack of empathy parents show for children. I've got loud Detroit MoTown playing. That is helping.

Keep At It.

Keep At It.

Keep At It.

Don't Be Afraid of the Scale: Redux

Guess what happens when you pretend that you can eat like you used to?

1) You gain weight
2) You avoid the scale
3) You panic
4) You avoid the scale and feel guilty for avoiding the scale
5) You finally get on the scale and freak out
6) You shake yourself by the scruff of the neck
7) You remember everything you've learned since you started this.

And so, LIW 183 and Present weight 182. So that's not so bad is it?

It's time to start thinking about round TWO. I have a couple of conferences and trials to get through in May. Then I think I'll begin R2P2 (which is really phase 1 but we all know what I mean).

I liked the structure of it, P2. I am wondering what will happen this round, since I basically blew off P3 entirely. Well not ENTIRELY but we all know what I mean.

In any sense, there's no way out but through. No need for self-recrimination, no need for the attempt to fool myself - or you guys - which means it's time to blog more and eat less.

Today was breakfast in bed with eggs, bacon and toast and coffee. Husband is a darling.

Now am full. REALLY full. Working on a report so it will be interesting to see munching/grazing habits that come into play today.

Sorry for my absence. I have been absent from conscious eating and I have allowed my work life to interfere in my conscious eating life.

So I'm back.

178.8

And that's all I'm saying about that. I recognize this is mostly water and such but OMG.

Today eating is erratic. More chewing on the easter rabbit. Ate an Organic Hotdog, which I find strangely hilarious but don't know why. Ate tuna with organic mayo - and organic mayo is terrible. Ate two pieces of whole wheat bread and then some nuts/chocolate/trail mix while watching Lord of the Rings and crying alot. I think this is mostly related still to my parental issues but that is what I did. Am still in pajamas.

178.8 - even if it's just a teeny little bounce downward it just STOKES ME UP that I saw that number today.

I Got On The Scale and also, My Bitchin New Hair

Well, I got on the scale this AM. Recall, LIW = 183.0 Today... 181.4!!! Again, how can this be? I think my new phrase is HOW CAN THIS BE? I didn't exactly gorge or anything in OKC, but I, as usual am not on the "program" - so that's so weird.

How long is phase three supposed to last anyway - you know, the part where I'm supposed to be avoiding starch and sugar? Like those bread things at Olive Garden, and the BEER I had two nights ago? (OMG it was such a delightful beer. I don't even like beer. But intuitively I wanted it and it was lovely and cold and beer-ish).

So, I'm totally NOT being a good P3 person. OK so today - I had CHAI (I was cold - it snowed here a couple of days ago) and I know that's just sugar and carb-y. Lunch was better - we went to restaurant that serves burgers and fries (but upscale - the kind with the nifty phone where you place your order that way). I got my burger on lettuce (sadly the iceberg kind) and I didn't want the cheese. I just didn't want it. Who knows why because I love cheese. And a huge 32 oz. iced tea. And now I smell steak even though it's like 8:30 PM. We all got in late from work, soccer practice and so forth. So I'll eat it and then see what else I want to eat --- what will the scale do about that?

I was just SURE that if I ate even the remotest portion of bread or starch that my weight would skyrocket, and it hasn't... yet. So I stopped the shots on, say, March 30ish - it's April 11 - how long is the stricter P3 supposed to last anyway? And then what's after that? What do I eat - or try to eat and not eat until I try P2 again? Is it called P4 or something?

I don't want to do the P2 again until after all my conferences in May because I am too chicken to inject myself. Is it OK to wait longer than sooner to start P2 again, because I want to start in June..?

OK another issue (TMI TMI MOMENT - TMI TMI MOMENT) - what the hell is up with the huge resurgence of TOM? I was down to nothing thanks to the IUD and now, WHOOSH. Is this a good thing? I'm hating it. Unless hcg is like a Fountain of Youth thing and then I'll take that. (TMI MOMENT OVER - TMI MOMENT OVER).

I am, I admit, thinking of what might happen if I ever break into the 170's. I simply cannot imagine it. What if I broke into it by like next week or something? OMG!

Of course, 179.9 means that it will fluctuate a ton into the 180's but 179 is so much farther from the 190s... ahhhh. I want to turn my back on the 190s FOREVER. I am scared to give away my size 16's but I need to. I tried to put on my 14's this morning and they were just too big - not just a little bit but they were like baggy. So comfy compared to the size 10 sausage casing jeans that I still am courageous enough to squeeze into (LUCKY ME).

I have to shop because my spring clothes - well the dresses will be OK because they don't have to fit like pants, but other than that... I need to get some work stuff that's not too big. Because I have learned that even when I was 198, wearing baggy clothes just made me look fatter.

And I'm NOT interested in looking fat.

OK and now about my hair.

I went to Chad and got a hair cut. I LOVE this haircut every day more and more (nothing like weight loss to improve a hair cut). What does it look like, you ask?

Imagine, if you will, that Rod Stewart had sex with Florence Henderson (the mom on Brady Bunch) and produced a Bay City Roller/David Bowie/Ziggy Stardust child. It's all blondish but dirty and slutty streaky blonde. I have to straighten the hell out of it. It's SO 80's.

I LOVE it because no one else has this hair cut because no one else would WANT this haircut. But I love it. My friends have politely avoided the topic of the hair. Husband likes it because I have hair and it's on my head and so therefore that's enough for him.

OK. Dinner calls.

Emotional Hang Over Pass the Bread

Actually I have not gotten onto the scale as I hit town at 11 AM and had to do a court thingie at 1 PM - without my luggage because it did not make it from OKC (thank you American Airlines for spontaneously grounding your planes, and thank you Frontier for having a broken plane BOTH DIRECTIONS, such that I had to haul my butt through the Denver airport with family in tow, attempting to make a non-existent connection on United.

SO. Makeup and decent cute shoes and clothes were in the luggage. Today was a training - ate a half sandwich (miracles of miracles, I took off the cheese because it did not seem appealing. For me, this is akin to saying the Brad Pitt or Tom Selleck or (in my case) Alan Rickman is not appealing. Weird. Went out to dinner after training because of time with colleague and family. Went to Olive Garden. Check this out. I HAD THE SOUP. Again, what is that? I always get something huge and pasta-y. And I requested a side of ... dare I say it, steamed spinach, because - because... OK because I wanted it. Who is this person? I did eat a bread stick and perhaps two.

I am wearing my size 10 Lucky Jeans. Did you know that Lucky Jeans say "Lucky You" when you unzip them, but the position of these words are as if someone else is unzipping them? Nothing from Lane Bryant has ever said that on my clothes, which is a damn shame.

I didn't know you could get clothes that got all suggestive on you. What if I was in a wreck and the nurse in the emergency department unzipped these pants and it said "Lucky You"? Of course, I would be unconscious and so the embarrassment potential would be lowered.

I am still tired and sad. No Difficult Sister Sightings. But the training was invigorating (go read about Collaborative Family Law and you'll believe me, I promise) and it gave me hope that there are new ways to solve old horrible problems.

And I got to have a colleague whom I admire to my home and out to dinner and she was lovely and my spouse and son and I felt as comfortable with her as if we had known her forever, which is not a typical thing. So a new friend for our family and I remain grateful for that.

Thank you for reading my bleeding raw pain blogs these past few days. I am not a writer and this anonymous forum has been a healing place for me. I never re-read anything on here or I would freak out and delete it. Thanks for the support and encouragement.

Tomorrow I have to get back on the scale. And drink more water. And really really avoid bread a bit longer. And get back on the scale again.

But that's tomorrow.

Tonight, I'm playing The Tudors on the On Demand because next to Alan Rickman and my husband, I could eat that guy Jonathon Rhys Meyers with a spoon, even if he is only like 22 or something.

What I Could Do and I Did

So, my mother told me this morning that she wanted to go to Red Lobster. This was a shock to everyone in the nursing home because a) my mother has not wanted to LEAVE HER ROOM in months and b) my mother is wheelchair bound (by her own fear and choice to some degree). I asked the Director of Nursing about this and of course, we had to ask the permission of the GUARDIAN (the Difficult Sister). Because this was the third day of my visit here, I asked the D.O.N. to phone the Difficult Sister to get her permission. Of course, she wanted to speak to me directly.

After her harangue about how no one returns her phone calls, etc. etc. I was able to tell her, with sincerity, that I felt she had found a wonderful place for our parents and that I appreciated her efforts. For the most part, that was met with another volley of negativity. In the end, she said that while she felt that Red Lobster was too hard of a trip (which I agreed with at some level) I was able to wheedle out of her a ride in the car for my parents. Mind you, my parents have not been able to go for a ride in the car ANYWHERE since they were placed in the nursing home IN DECEMBER.

So, we jumped at that. Mother was bundled into the front of the rented Ford Focus, driven by husband, while my dad (who had to be reassured every 10 minutes who I was and where we were going) and my son (who was DREAMBOAT this trip - full of affection and love for two old people who are truly strangers to him) and I were in the back.

But, I back up. Before this, after the phone permission, the Difficult Sister phoned back and asked if she could "come up" which meant that she wanted to look at me. She always wants to look at me - she just can't help it.

So, I was infused by some kind of wonderful spirit, prayer, goddess, luck, what have you. She came in the room, I was able to feel PERFECTLY CALM (with no meds!) and even give a perfunctory hug, and my son also gave the appropriate Aunt Hug (although he knew the situation and was told to keep his mouth shut and be polite. He did it with style). She HAD to have noticed my weight loss - and she was bigger than I'd ever seen her, which I felt weirdly bad for but not too much. She DID NOT COMMENT on the weight loss, so no need to tell her the particulars. She wanted to know about my braces on my teeth instead. A safer topic, involving a crossbite problem. Actually I'm getting the whole mess of them capped when I'm ready. But why tell her.

Asked the Difficult Sister to lead us to the nearest McDonald's because the parents liked the cheeseburgers there once upon a time.

She looked at us like we were a comedy of errors - that it was a total mistake, etc. Mind you, my mother tends to use the restroom (post colon cancer/radiation= poor bowel control) every 20 minutes. We did not take the wheelchair. Felt like Depending upon the Depends.

Here's the best part. We drove through Nichols Hills - an old and rich part of OKC that had million dollar homes. My mother REMEMBERED. She remembered the homes, she remembered being a realtor, she REMEMBERED. She brightened up, she talked, she recollected. She was not negative. She did not demand to use the restroom.

We kept asking her if she was OK - she kept saying "let's keep driving." So we did.

It was sunny, the flowers were out, she talked and talked. She didn't look so desperate and depressed. It was glorious.

For the very first time since getting a PhD, I was able to do something that made my mother truly happy. There have been, literally about three or four times in my life that I have been able to do this in a way that I knew it made her happy. This was one of them.

We stayed out an hour and a half. The staff at the home were shocked and happy. They told me that she looked so very much better the last three days since we'd been there. One caregiver told me "We are all wanting ya'll to move here."

It was wonderful, validating and I feel so grateful, just to get that little moment with my mother and my dad. The Difficult Sister cannot "get" to me as easily now because they are in the care center. And the staff really know that the Difficult Sister can be really hard. The D.O.N. completely understood and I felt validated and like those folks had a different idea about my mother. I told them to call her "Tex" which has been her nickname forever, and I told them how to deal with my dementing dad, including calling me if he gets bad. They have my face now to the name. I feel like I had a little way to have an influence in their lives - just a tiny one -for the first time.

So, I phoned the Difficult Sister to let her know the drive went swimmingly. She of course hated it that it went well, and went on about how gee, she wishes she had the time to do the "fun stuff" but that she had to do all the work.

Her level of generally shittiness never ceases to amaze. But what's so weird, was that I didn't care at all. How is that?

Oh and here's the best part. Because my parents ate cheeseburgers (and I did eat fries and have some coke .. deeeelicious) at 3 PM, they missed their 5 PM dinner. SO, Biwi and her husband and my husband and me and my son - we went to Red Lobster and ordered out, and brought it in, and we all had a family style dinner in the small dining area, like the old days. I wasn't really hungry - too happy. Ate some grilled shrimp and some scallops. Ate one of those KILLER rolls.
Was full. Just watched my mother eat ALL of her dinner - I've never seen her eat some much. And we talked and teased and ate - dad ate his Walt's Shrimp - he was quiet but smiling.

It is a strange thing to be so filled with gratitude - given that I'm not religious (being cynical and agnostic and all) - but so filled that you wonder if you will burst.

This day was what I have needed. No matter what happens, I have had this day.

Food didn't matter, money didn't matter, even the Difficult Sister didn't matter. My husband and son stood by me, making it all possible. Biwi opened her home for us and let us do what we needed to do. And 1800.00 on American Express for three plane tickets was completely worth it.

I am grateful, too for my friends here. I read and re-read your supportive and loving comments. I feel like Rocky Balboa. I have looked the Steely Dragon in the eye and came away with my soul intact.

And I made my mother remember her real estate career. The next time I come down, she told me she wants to go to the old part of town where she lived when she moved to OKC 60 years ago. What a trip.

I hope they are alive and kicking when I can get back here again.

Our plane leaves at 6 AM. Have to find a way to sleep.

Thanks again my friends. I know this is all off topic re: hcg - (EXCEPT THAT THE D.O.N. ALSO WAS ON HCG so we bonded over that) - but it's what I needed to say.

xoxoxo

Your Brave (this time) and Very Lucky Hazel