This should be interesting ...

Well, it has definitely been a while since I've posted anything on here, and I do have some updates. First and foremost, the walking and not having the take-out proved to be quite a success. The scales have tipped in my favor once again and twenty-five pounds is lost into oblivion.

Between the stress of the crap I went through June - October, I am really surprised that the weight came off, but when I stop and actually think about it, I shouldn't be surprised at all. Not eating junk, who would've thunk it would actually work in your favor ... gee, I wonder.

Well, I've been walking at least six miles a day four days a week and at least 10 miles a day over the weekend. That makes for a lot of mileage, but I gotta tell you, it has been paying off. The mileage, there's an explanation, I'm doing a marathon with my bud in February. You can follow our progress over here: It's Not a Sprint, It's a Marathon.

Crazy, na. Motivated, absolutely. I have to admit though, the first full week I did my 4x6 and my 2x10 I felt like I'd been run over my a mac truck. It was painful and uncomfortable, but then it passed and I got right back out there the next day for my 6 miler. Over time the distances will increase and the walks will turn into run/walks, but when February comes around, I have no doubt that I will make it across that finish line.

Clean Slate?

Well, I've moved to a new state and wanted this to be my chance at cleaning my slate. I don't think that has actually been the case though. I am burdened by the fears that I refuse to shed (or maybe can't shed?), and I am burdened by my expanding size. During the move I did lose a few pounds because I couldn't eat and that was great ... but after I got to my new place I went grocery shopping.

It's not what you think - I bought all healthy food, no crap at all. The problem was my fridge was too damn cold and all of my fruit and vegetables froze the first night. Crap is all I can say. I was left with my frozen lean cuisine meals and they didn't last. I don't know what my problem was - I simply couldn't stop eating them. I made it through roughly 12 days of meals in two days. Talk about a fricking pig.

My groceries are essentially gone, and I guess for me that's good news since I have a mile to go to get to the grocery store and I no longer have a Walgreens conveniently located on the corner any longer. If I want to actually eat, I have to work for it - oh and since there is no delivery service here equal to what I had in my old home, I don't have to worry about that either. Thank gawd.

I need to actually start exercising - this is getting ridiculous. If I don't lose some of this weight, I can't expect to ever really find anything can I? Pity party - na, just thinking out loud and hoping that I am strong enough to make a life change that I have so desperately needed for that past decade.

I would like to say, here's to a fresh start, but until I think that in my own mind, I guess it is just wishful thinking.

Pictures

Hrm, ok. So today was the first time that I've actually seen a full-body picture of myself and holy shit. I had no idea that I was that huge. Numbers on pants mean nothing to me, they never have ... but pictures say it all. I cannot believe that I am that rotund - I never would have imagined that I actually looked like I do. In all honesty I look like a ball with sausages sticking out while attempting to play the role of my legs. My arms, ha - they don't even fall straight - they actually bend out because of the excess around my mid-section. You can't even tell that I have a neck - everything just seems to blob together. A waist, um, what exactly is a waist supposed to look like because I sure as shit don't have one ... instead of a waist I have bulges and rolls. What did I do to myself?

You're Fired

Yes, that's right - you're fired. At least my body is fired. After doing the whole, eating right bit, my body has revolted and the scale has jumped five pounds in three days. Talk about bulking up. Ridiculous. Frustrating. Unbelievable, but alas, my weight is a frustrating, heart-stabbing leech that tries to suck the life out of my willpower. I refuse to let it win this time. This time, I shall prevail. This time I will win "King of the Mountain" and shove those damn cravings off the rock pile. Frustrating as all hell, but eventually this will pay off.

Another one bites the dust

In a tribute to my beloved '80s music and Queen ... another one bit the dust. I held a funeral today, and wait for it - my pants will not rest in peace.

Ok, so not really a funeral, but another one really did bite the dust. If I am keeping track, and subconsciously I fear that I actually am, that makes four pairs of pants that I have had to surreptitiously toss on yonder. Why? Well, I wish it was for all the right reasons - they were too big, they were out of style, I caught them on a sharp corner and ripped the ass out of them - but no, these pants have not died such a wishful death. They died because I blew them out - yeah, you got that right - they exploded on my ever expanding ass. Well, at least that's how one of the pairs went - in a blaze of non-glory. So, curious?

I went for a walk yesterday, something of my daily routine to clear my head ... listen to some Kansas and clear the cobwebs. About mid-way to my destination and turning point I noticed that my right pant leg started to ebb its way up and actually twisted a little bit so that the inseam was pointing about 45 degrees further than it should have been. I thought they just got bunched up in all the fatness that surrounds my thighs, but I should've known better. Now, I've had numerous pants go out this way, but it was always blue jeans that died in this manner - wearing the friction center so much that the fabric wore all the way through and a burn-hole emerged only to spread from front to back and all around. Blue jeans, I expect that from blue jeans -- heavy fabrics, tons of friction, its bound to happen. I didn't expect it to happen to my khaki pants, the ones I was wearing yesterday. After I reached mid-point I realized what had happened and I hoped it was just a minor tear in the fabric so that I wouldn't end up with "rug burn" on the friction part of my thigh. Oops, wrong again. By the time I got home, my leg had a nice rub burn on it from the hole in the fabric - and the hole expanded quite profusely. Boy, am I glad I had on a long shirt otherwise all those unsuspecting folks would've had quite the show yesterday.

I am so sick and tired of having my pants die like this - but at least yesterday's wasn't as embarrassing as the blue jean blow-out. Yeah, you got it. A complete and total blow-out. This happened around November and I tried to put it out of my mind, but yesterday's mishap brought it rushing back. I had a great pair of jeans that I fondly remember fitting perfectly and then getting too big for me to wear ... ah the good 'ole days. Well, I was siphoning through my clothes back in November trying to decide what to keep and what to toss, and I thought I would try on those jeans to see what pile they went into. Granted, these jeans were heavily worn in their day, so the fabric had seen a great deal of friction on the inner thighs, but I certainly wasn't expecting what happened next. I got the pants all the way on, victory!!! Damn it, wrong again. As soon as I got the button through its loop and the zipper up I moved just a little bit and it was like a bomb went off. All that built up tension in the fabric just let go at that moment and my pants exploded. The inseam was all that was left - the fabric separated itself on both sides of the inseam on BOTH legs. It was sheer craziness. The pants had a mind of their own. I didn't even bother with trying to get them off, I just had to tug and the damn things ripped off. You think I should've taken that as a sign that I let myself get to frigging fat ... um, yeah. Did I? Hell no.

In the words of Queen, another one bites the dust, and I do sincerely hope that it is the last one for quite some time.

This being healthy thing ... what a drag

Well, I recently made a fiscal decision to stop ordering take-out food. After looking at my bank statements, I realized it was simply a leak in my bank account that I needed to plug up and stop. Was it an easy decision to make? Hell no. I love my CPK, that chicken piccata and the baja chicken tortilla rolls ... can you say YUM. But, my ever dwindling bank account, and ever-expanding waistline can't handle all those yummy, delicious calories any longer. Boo-hoo.

I made a trip down to the grocery store - and to put this in perspective - I haven't been to the grocery store since August of LAST YEAR. I have been eating out for nearly a year, or going to Walgreens and getting crap like ice cream, chips, dip (you get the picture) ... ok, now picture the dollar signs leaking out of my accounts. You can understand the need to stay away from delivery. So, I went into the grocery store and purchased a loaf of bread (whole wheat), three Dole salad packs (330 calories for the mix), some apples, some turkey and some munster cheese. I also got a few veggie packs, but those disappeared as soon as I got home.

I have been eating turkey sandwiches and eating salad. My digestive tract is thanking me, but all I can think about is the food I am missing out on. I don't want to think about that kind of food because I know what will happen ... but in reality, I can't afford the $800 or so a month I've been spending on take-out. Yeah, you read that right. Talk about a lush, for fattening foods.

I have been drinking water like it's no one's business and wonder if in all my over-indulgence I made myself sick. I haven't been to see an actual doctor in more than five years, because let's face it, I loathe doctors. When you walk into their office, you see them for two seconds before they are out the door, and when you actually have a problem they don't know what the hell to do with you. Their answer to everything seems to be give someone a shot of this or a script for that - hell with that. I would rather let my body do its own healing - something it seems to do quite well. Granted, the healing may take time, and in some cases a TON of time, but eventually the wrongs of my body seem to right themselves over time.

I do hope the bad joints lighten up when the numbers on the scale start to go down ... otherwise I give myself another decade before I am wheelchair bound permanently.

Interesting trip

Well, I recently found myself on an airplane again, and since the airline was X (keeping it quiet) I was anxious to get on and find a suitable seat. For me, with X, a suitable seat is one on the right side of the plane next to the window. Why you ask? Well, for starters the buckles on X's flights have the funky buckles, with the little two prongs that you have to get in just right to make it snap. When you are fat like me, it is more of a challenge to get those darn little things to snap into place since you have to pull and push everything to even get it close to snapping into place. So, why do I like the seats next to the window? Since my ass takes up the entire seat, it is easier to pull the lap-belt through and have it resting - instead of snapping - when you have a window to hide your enormity and the lack of clasping.

I am sure some are gasping, oh my, no seat belt ... yeah, I know. When it gets nice and bumpy, I make the extra effort of pushing back on my seat so that I can pull the belt over just that little bit extra to make it snap. On other airlines I don't seem to have a problem because they don't have the dual-prong adapter ... but X, I hate your belts. They are not fat-friendly devices. But then again, what in this world is fat-friendly other than the "crap" (notice I say crap and not food, because food would actually imply some nutrients whereas crap is nothing but empty calories that we like to make excuses for) we continue to push down our gullet on a daily basis?

My trip was interesting - learning a new city and trying to find a place to live. It's not easy moving somewhere when you know you are going to be the fattest person around. I can always feel the eyes on me whenever I go places and it can be unnerving, but then again I have learned to deal with it as a part of my life - my fat life. I had a reality check today when I woke up with numbness, yet again, all down my arms and today it took more than double my normal "come back to life" time. It got me worried and I know, I mean I know, that I have to make a change in my life and learn to be better to myself and whip my ass into shape. But, then again I always follow that with the same question ... will I just allow myself to fall back into this trap yet again? or will this time be different, for me?

I don't know how I let myself get like this. Let me rephrase. I KNOW how I let myself get like this, but I don't "know" how I let myself get like this. I have been consciously aware of my ever-expanding waistline, yet I seem content with the idea of edging closer to 300 pounds because I continue to consciously shove everything I can down my throat when I start to feel bad about myself. Let's just say I have a very unhealthy relationship with food and I will have to really try to rectify that outrageous wrong. Perhaps it will be easier when I actually live close to an actual grocery store instead of a Walgreens? We all know how wonderfully healthy Walgreens' food can be, don't we.

I need to learn to take my own advice and not eat my feelings. We shall see if that will ever come to be . . .

Do you ever wonder?

As an individual who has struggled with her weight her entire life, I always wonder if the fight will ever get easier. Yes, I was the girl who ran her ass off, played every sport, yet still got the comments "did you see her shake when she fell" of course referring to my ass shaking upon the impact with the ground. I used to love sports, and I still do, but the weight has become a problem for my knees and back. It's not easy carrying around an entire person when your legs and back are only meant to carry around one.

I don't think I have ever had the "ah ha" moment that so many people struggling with their weight have had. I've seen pictures of myself and I know just how fat I am - and my fat I mean I carry around 120 pounds more than I should. I see the size of my pants every single time I have to put them on - I've held them up and know just how large they are ... yet that "ah ha" moment has eluded me. Perhaps if I had one, my motivation would change. Wouldn't it be nice if it was actually that easy?!?

I have done just about every diet program in the book, from the cookie diet to the master cleanse, from nutrisystem to weight watchers and nothing has worked for the long term. Why is that? I know the reason why, and it has everything to do with me.

I remember a time when I busted my ass to lose a ton of weight in a short period of time. I ran five miles a day, spent nights in a sauna and voila the weight disappeared. But low and behold, look what happened when the sauna sessions stopped and I actually ate food - you guessed it, the weight piled back on and ruined my life.

There was another time when I again starved myself and lost a ton of weight, we're talking at least 60 pounds, but it was never for me. I wasn't the driving force behind the loss and when the motivation for losing the weight was no longer interested, the weight came back and then some (plus some more). Since that time I have hovered at the gained weight for approximately five years, and I am oh so tired of my body falling apart.

I love to walk, yet walking does nothing for me. I have always wondered why that is - you always hear about walking to lose weight or to sustain weight loss, but for me, it hasn't been near enough. In order for this battled and bruised body to actually lose weight it will take a hell of a lot more than simply walking - it is going to take some hard-core ass-kicking. Am I capable of doing it this time - for my own body's sake? Or will this be another epic failure?

If it is another epic failure, what does that make me? Am I just ill-equipped to be able to handle this challenge? I always thought I was up for any challenge that was thrown at me. I have high expectations for myself and I LOVE outdoor activities. Hiking and mountaineering are my passions, yet I find they are not enough. Oh, perhaps this time around I will find the self-desire and power to actually change my life so that I can be around in about five years.

Only time will tell ...