Charts

So… Back in 2009 I joined a weight loss site. That year looked like this.

2009-2010

I started at 235, developed the habit of either not eating for days, or going on a binge and then spending the next 30 minutes throwing up as much as possible (even though I later learned that once food hits your mouth, you’re fucked). It wasn’t at all healthy, but everyone was so proud of me when I dipped down into the 190s. It didn’t matter to them how I got there, since they didn’t see it. They saw me drink a coke everyday. It’s weird how no one even questions how someone might drop weight so fast.

As you can see, it didn’t last. It got to a point where my body just threw up every time I ate. It scared me, and the weight started to creep back toward the end of the year.

I kept the account that I signed up for in 2009, and would update it. Not to a whole lot of purpose, but just occasionally felt like making myself want to die, I guess. There were a few times I tried to lose weight again, but I couldn’t commit to eating nothing anymore. I didn’t relish the pain in my guy anymore. It was just reminiscent of that horrible place where I would throw up every time I ate… so over the years (2009-2015) my chart looked like this.

2009-2015

So where I started at 235, which was 35 lbs above my high school weight in 2006, I topped out earlier this year at 280.

280 is officially unacceptable. I know some people will say that over 200 should have been unacceptable, but to those people I say fuck off. You don’t know my life. The point is that I came within 20 lbs of being a 300 lb person and that, for me, is unacceptable. I’ve been a fat person my entire life, but something about 300lbs just floored me.

Was it my rock bottom? Was it some kind of wake up call?
I dunno. I’m pretty sure I could get substantially lower (fatter) before I’d call it my end all rock bottom moment of absolute change. It was a shitty moment, though. I don’t know how I let it creep up so high. It’s like waking up one morning to see a strange looking back at you… and that stranger wants donuts.

So, in June I started looking into diets. Over the course of my life I’d tried them all. From Ana and Mia diets, to fad diets, to beach body, to weight watchers, to coffee and cigarettes, to paleo, to vegan, to whatever. It seemed to me that finding a diet that worked for a long run of life was impossible. How are you supposed to stick to all these thing when you’re also trying to live your life. Yes, being thin would terrific, but I also really like tacos… and when my friends and I go out, we like to drink and get tacos… so, your diet of “you can never drink alcohol again or eat anything that may or may not have touched a fryer” wasn’t going to work for me. I get that you can’t do that shit everyday, but what is life without cheat days?

After a lot of investigation, I settled on Slim Fast. I associated it with older women that say they’re dieting, but really just drink themselves to death, but when I looked into it, it’s a pretty sound kind of diety thing. You’re getting good nutrition intake… and if you’re going out you just skip your shakes and snacks to use the calories for whatever. It even had good longevity, since people can go off it and if they feel they’ve gained it’s not going to wreck your life to start it again. I had always liked the concept of calorie counting, but this was easier since I was only calculating a 500 cal meal and some 100 cal snacks.

And so, I present to you my chart from when I started dieting in July to now.

June-Oct

Yeah, there’s been turbulence. That’s not a straight line. It’s not the most direct path. But anyone can see the trend, here. I’m losing. I’m losing without starving myself. I’m losing without even sticking to Slim Fast or a constant calorie intake.

At this point, I keep Slim Fast around, but I’m not strict with it. Mostly I track my calories. My goal for the day is 1200. If I’m under 1400 I’m happy with it. If I’m under 2000, I live with it. Not everyday is a winner. Some days I want Coke and Chipotle. Some days I eat a cucumber and drink a lot of water, and come in crazy under calories. But… I’m losing.

As of this morning I’m under 260. 20 lbs down.
I also fit in a smaller pant size. So… that’s pretty cool for me.

This shit is hard. I can’t honestly tell you if dieting or quitting smoking is harder for me. Both make me feel like life is empty and pointless when I think about them too long.
I am, admittedly, doing substantially better at dieting than quitting smoking, though… >_>

So… there ya go.

Can I Just Sleep Until I Die?

I’m trying really hard not to let this whole thing get to me… but it does. You see, the problem with hope and happiness, is that both can be crushed beneath any stray boot. It’s better not to have them at all, than to have them just long enough to make losing them painful.

Until this past weekend, it had been a year since I was intimate with someone. More than that, it’s been three or four years since I was even interested in someone. I’d reached a point where I was okay with that. I’d pushed friends away, and avoided romantic situations, and aside from bad drunken sex I avoided human intimacy. Everything was fine; that’s just who I was now, and it was totally fine. Yeah, there’s always a hint of crippling loneliness. I get tired of going out alone all the time. I get sick of seeing couples in the street. Even romance in movies and TV made me feel uncomfortable and gross. It’s all so unrealistic, and yet it always looks so nice.

Of course you don’t know in three days if someone is worth your time, but apparently that’s all you need to want more human contact in your life. Sunday was such a lovely day, and it seemed so wonderful to have someone that I wasn’t trying to push away. I was just being me, and letting him see that. It was freeing and lovely and I wanted more, so much more. I’d rather I’d never felt that. Now, that feeling is gone and has been replaced by regret and loneliness. There’s a hole in the center of my body that I had learned to ignore for so long, and now it throbs.

Feeling badly, as I do, I thought I’d treat myself to a cheat day. I’ve been dieting, and the night before last I clock a total of 460 calories for the day, so I didn’t think it would be a big thing to hit 1700 yesterday. Today I’m back to dieting… and food no longer fills me with joy. I ate exactly what I wanted last night and it didn’t do anything. So, not only am I wallowing in my own misery, but the one thing that used to bring me joy no longer does anything. I just felt sick after cramming that much Chipotle into my face. Whatever is missing from my life apparently can no longer be placated with a burrito.

And maybe that’s good. I have a friend I text perpetually and always, and I realized how depressed I sound when I talk about this whole three day business, so I doubled back with the affirmation: “Well, if it doesn’t make shit better, then I don’t need to binge eat ever again! Silver lining!” Maybe that’s true. It doesn’t feel important though. Life just feels so meaningless that I don’t even want to be awake for it anymore.

My best friend lives 1091 miles away…. my secondary best friend just moved 1281 miles away…. my back up best friend wants to join the Navy and leave, not that I ever see her anyway. My mother is miserable. My job is currently being turned on its head and shaken. It’s going to be winter soon, and I’ll have to contend with snow. The only bright spots in my life are my pets, and unfortunately you can’t take them to dinner and a movie, or to a concert, or discuss movies with them. I feel lonely, and I hate everything right now… but mostly me… I hate me so much right now, for getting all tangled up in false hopes and fragile happiness, and for being genuinely surprised when it all fell apart. What am I? New? No. I know better.

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I was supposed to kill myself this year. When I was fourteen I made a plan. I was going to do my life better than my mom. I was going to be married at 24, and start having kids at 26. I wanted two kids, and to live somewhere with a beach. We’d both work so that we had enough money to have nice family vacations, and by the time the kids were done with college we’d have enough money to travel around a bit before we retired.
The backup plan to that was that if I wasn’t married and had no kids by 26, I was going to kill myself.

I didn’t. I’m still here, obviously. Life hadn’t been good up till then, but I thought that this year I might figure it out. I thought this would be the year I committed to weight loss, and got my house in order, and I’d make some new friends and just enjoy being me. None of that happened. I’m still fat. Down 13 lbs as of this morning and I have 127 left before I’m remotely happy. I actually have LESS friends now than this time last year. I finally got some work done on my house, but everyday I just debate getting rid of everything I own and living in my house with nothing. Still might.

Nothing got better. Nothing panned out.
I don’t think I’m going to kill myself… because I have to take care of the pets. I just… don’t wanna be awake for this part of my life anymore. Everything is meaningless, and all I want is to feel close to someone again… and I know it won’t be for a very long time.

Damn me for trying.
Damn me for not knowing better.
Damn me for getting so lost that I let myself hurt me.

I’m having a bad life.

My losses and gains

So as of Friday, I am down 10lbs from my heaviest weight. I hope to never see my scale say 280, every again.

It feels like it’s taken forever to lose 10 lbs… and if I were sticking strictly to my diet, but all things considered I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m starting a stricter diet this week… Working toward not just staying within cals, but actually packing really good foods into it. 1200 calories of cake, is still 1200 cals, but it’s not nutritious and it will make you want more food later because you’re not getting the right stuff.

So… Gonna alternate caloric intake… 1200 then 1400 then 1200 again. 1200 is really low, so you don’t want your body to think you’re starving to death… I think the extra 200 every other day, ish, will help me consistently lose more.

My goal this week is 5 lbs. That’s more than twice what you should realistically lose in a week, but I need a confidence boost. So that’s the goal… but any loss, of course, would be amazing.

So what have I gained from this?

Much more respect for ridiculous food… because all I want is to binge eat junk… all the time.

Also, I have gained the realization that I will hate exercise forever.
My brain just kicks into this horrible thing where it loops how fat and useless I am. Over music, over tv, over books on tape… it’s just “YOU ARE A GOD DAMN FAT PIECE OF SHIT AND WHY DON’T YOU JUST FUCKING KILL YOURSELF INSTEAD OF WASTING EVERYONE’S TIME TRYING TO LOSE WEIGHT?! IT’S JUST GONNA COME BACK BECAUSE YOU’RE A BIG FAT ASS THAT SHOULD DIE SO STARVING PEOPLE CAN EAT THE FOOD YOU SHOVEL INTO YOUR FACE.”

So…. that’s just something I’m gonna have to deal with. I don’t like it. I absolutely hate exercising, because it’s awful and I always want to put a gun in my mouth afterwards, but I’m trying to ease into it. Right now my phone tracks my movement. I’m trying to move around at least 30 mins a day. Next week I’m bumping to 45. It’s not dedicated exercise. It’s “you walked to the mail box, then you parked at the back of the parking lot when you went to the store, and then you walked around the block at a leisurely pace with your geriatric dog.” So it’s not me on a treadmill with nothing to think about except what a piece of shit I am… it’s just trying to think of more reasons to expend a little more energy without really thinking about it.

Maybe later I will walk to Chipotle to obtain my salad instead of eating the one that I made myself…. Maybe. I dunno. We’ll see.

I’m not happy, or excited about this. I’m not reveling in my weight loss or feeling OMG SO GREAT. I hate it. I want to binge eat all the time. I don’t feel better about anything. I haven’t stopped craving shitty food. I don’t see any change in my appearance, and I don’t think my clothes fit better. It’s very disappointing. I know that I won’t start feeling any kind of change until 25 or 30 lbs down… And that sucks. It’s so much and so far and I feel really hopeless about it.

I wish I was only 30 lbs overweight. I could do that. If you told me this morning that I needed to lose 30 lbs and I would then be at my ideal weight, I guarantee I could drop that in a month.
But I am now 130 lbs overweight. Even if I could drop that in a month, I’d be left with flaps of skin and digestive problems.

I’m trying really hard not to make this a big thing. I don’t want to get carried away again and start throwing up every time I eat. I don’t want to be left with skin flaps, so I have to lose reasonably slowly. I don’t want to fail, but I don’t quite know how to succeed…

So that’s where I’m at.

Period Binging

if you don’t have a period… I hate you.

My anatomy pretty much hates me, in general, but the biggest offender is always my uterus. My intestines hate all food. My skin hates sunlight. My eyes hate to focus. My gallbladder waged full on war with me. My lungs don’t really like oxygen. My kidneys have attempted an attack. My uterus, however, comes at me like we are in a world war for total domination or decimation, every god damn month.

Now, I understand. I, too, would be mad if I spent all month getting a room ready for a guest and it turns out they didn’t show up. I would totally be pissed. I’m not sure that I would wreck the joint, though. My uterus wrecks the joint. It invites 1980s Motely Crüe over, and they throw TVs out the window, and tear open the furniture, and do lines of cocaine off of everything.

In real terms, this translates to extreme pain and general shiftiness. Every month I’m treated to flu symptoms: nausea, fatigue, congestion, fever, and lethargy. Just in case that isn’t enough, there is a near constant stabbing feeling in my abdomen. I don’t mean a dull ache, a sudden brief pain, or even that it feels like I’ve been socked in the gut. I mean that I feel as though there is something inside me trying to cut its way out for five to seven days straight. Also, I become ravenous.

I’ve been diagnosed with poly cystic ovaries. I have an enlarged ovary. Neither of these cause my pain. The pain is supposedly just cramps. It’s been speculated that it could be endometriosis, but it’s hasn’t been properly diagnosed. About the only thing that cuts through the pain? Percocet. I can’t take that when I’m going to work, of course. I can’t take it if I plan to drive, interact with people, or do anything except sleep very heavily. So, I live with the pain. Today, on the way to work, it was so bad that I had to pull over on the side of the freeway and just breathe until I was sure I wasn’t going to vomit.

The other thing that treats all this awful, though, is grease. Now, I have not researched this, but I think there’s a direct correlation between treating menstrual stress and grease. When I’m menstrual, all I want it is the grossest, most A,ericam processed, greasy ass crap that I can shovel down my gullet. Today I had nachos, covered in some kind of liquid orange cheese, with jalapeños and sour cream. Later, I had a fried fish sammich. Both were nauseatingly delicious. And both elicited a momentary lapse in my dismay and discomfort. While I also suffer from IBS, I am prone to period stomach, which results in anything I eat becoming a very bad idea. Weird thing is, the higher the grease content, the less period stomach effects me. Salad? Bad idea. Biggest burger ever, deep fried and topped with whipped cream? Perfect. It’s so crazy.

Anyways. So I binged today. I needed it. I will eat much better for three days, and completely avoid the scale, but I needed today. Life happens, and the best laid plans of dieters have weak points. The important thing is to realize it happens and deal with it instead of beating yourself up about it. Give yourself a break.

In related news, I was down a total of six pounds this morning from my start weight. Six pounds in two weeks is really great. Yay me.

Rant: Binge Eating & Addictions

If you have never had an addiction, I don’t want your god damned advice.

Seriously. Not to be rude, I’m sure your advice is great and magical, but with no frame of reference for what it’s like to have an addiction problem, you have no idea what I’m going through. Also, on the same vein, if you’ve never had a FOOD addiction, I still don’t want your god damned advice. Smoking and binge eating… totes not the same, bro.

People without these kinds of problems just don’t get it. It’s not their fault they don’t get it, either. It’s like trying to imagine a new color… you can’t do it, because your world has never given you the kind of stimuli to do so. You’ve never been a heroin addict, so you can’t imagine what it’s like to crave heroin, in spite of it “ruining your entire life.” You’ve never been addicted to cigarettes, so you can’t imagine why it’s so hard to “just not buy them.” You’ve never had a food addiction, so you can’t understand what it’s like to not be able to “just eat less.” You don’t know, and no one can fault you for that. At the same time, though, you are not the person that needs to be advising people with these problems on how to overcome them, and you should know that people, like me, take offense when you try… because… YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

I happen to have a food problem… and, if we’re being totally honest a cigarette problem, a mild alcohol problem, and an addictive personality coupled with an impulse control problem. I already know this; I get it from my dad, along with all the crazy that festers inside me like an infected bullet wound.

Now, if you happen to have an impulsive friend in your life, you know we can get REALLY IRRITATING. I know we can. We end up in trouble a lot and we can very easily drag you into trouble with us. That gets old pretty quick when you’re not an impulsive person yourself. If you have a person with an addictive personality in your life, you know we can be REALLY IRRITATING, as well, because there’s nothing you can do to keep us from getting weird obsessive about things… God help you if you show a person with an addictive personality a party drug, because that is going to be their new thing for-fucking-ever, and they’re going to get baffled when you don’t think you need to do it all the time. That’s just facts. It’s life.

Being impulsive with an addictive personality means that I have to practice a certain level of control. It also means that I don’t always have that control, and that things are gonna spiral and get weird real fast. It’s just the nature of the beast. It’s my nature. Over the years I’ve managed to reign in the smoking. I smoke on weekends… maybe a couple at night if I am drinking or I ate too much. I’ve also learned to more or less curb the drinking habit. I drink Fridays and Saturdays… and sometimes I go dry just to keep an eye on it. The eating, however, I’ve never quite gotten a grasp of… because it’s different.

You can quit smoking and never touch another cigarette again. You can quit drinking and you can never touch another alcoholic drink, or step foot in a bar, again. You cannot quit eating. You can fast, sure. I’ve gone a good month without solid food (lots of juicing and smoothies), but sooner or later, you have to eat… or you die. Even the most dedicated anorexics have to eat a little something sometime… even if it’s just for the appearance of NOT being anorexic.

Okay, you have to eat, but you don’t have to eat until you’re sick. Just stop eating so much. It’s not that hard.

Yeah, I can hear that thought pulsating in your brain. What you’re not understand is that… I can’t.
What can I equate this to that is universally recognized?

It’s like breathing. You can hold your breath. Some people can hold their breath for a really, really long time, even… but sooner or later you have to breathe, and people that have a problem with breathing cannot hold their breath very well. In this example, people with a food problem are equivalent to people with emphysema.

I go to some extreme lengths to try and not binge eat. I don’t keep much food in the house, I avoid places with a drive thru, and I try to eat in public a lot, because I am self-conscious about people watching me eat. Still, there’s no precaution I can take for when I’m struck by impulse. All those things are great for bored-binging. If there’s nothing on hand to munch on, I can let it go. If I’m under a lot of stress, though… or I’m sad… or it just hits me, it triggers the impulse part of my brain, and I go buy too much food, and I eat all of it.

This happened last night. I went to Chipotle, bought two burrito bowls, ate them both. Made myself actually nauseous, because I haven’t been binging, so my stomach shrank a bit. I, as usual, immediately regretted it, but I gave up purging when my body started trying to do it after every single meal. So, instead, I smoked a lot and took two of my PM diet pills. I was still up 2 lbs this morning… it was discouraging, but not unexpected.

So what am I trying to say?

I dunno. My doctor wanted to talk about my binging on Friday when I saw her… oh btw, if you’ve been following all the posts, I DON’T HAVE CANCER!!! I didn’t want to hear it. There’s nothing my doctor can say that I haven’t heard from shrinks, teachers, parents, and friends 100 times over the years. I’m 25 and I’ve been fat since I was born… I got it.

Eat below 1500 cals, exercise for at least 20 minutes a day, and avoid trigger foods.

I know, but saying that and doing it are two totally different things. I can tell you how to do a lot of things… I can read an article on how birds fly and tell you exactly how to do it, but you will never be able to fly. I try every single day to eat less and try to be more active, but the thing in my life that I associate with happiness the most in this world is eating.

Given the choice, I’d rather binge eat than have sex. I don’t have to be pretty to eat. I don’t have to be funny, smart, interesting… I just have to get my hands on some food… Food doesn’t cheat. Food doesn’t leave. Food doesn’t ask when you’re going to lose weight. Food doesn’t ask you for money. Food doesn’t give you an STD. Food is great. All around. It does make you fat… but since food doesn’t care if you’re fat, it doesn’t matter.

Food does make me cry. It makes me cry because I can’t control myself with it. It makes me cry when I decide it’s okay to binge for a day, and it’s not as good as I wanted it to be. It makes me cry because I know that I’m never going to 100% overcome my problems with it. It makes me cry because my love of food might be the thing that kills me one day. It makes me cry for a lot of reasons.

I want to lose over 100 lbs. It’s been my only goal that was actually mine in my entire life. This weekend I thought I was closer to death than I ever have been in my life. And I didn’t binge eat. Yesterday I found out that I’m fine. And I binged like hell last night. Why?

I can’t tell you. I can’t even tell anyone that it happened, for fear of being bombarded with advice that is completely useless.

Oh my life.