2018… Not A Great Year So Far…

How is 2018? Well… it’s not great.

Let’s review my work life right now.

  • Biller #1 walked out right before year-end bill-out
  • Biller #2 had her baby a month early, right before year-end bill-out
  • Year-end as the only biller, plus everything else I do
  • New Biller started and quit after two days
  • Finally got two billers I think will be good, and the warranty girl puts in her notice

And that’s about where we are right now.

I’m tired of training of people. My only solace is that these two billers will be good, I think. They’re both bright and motivated to work. I think if either leave any time soon I will just curl up and die under their desk as a tribute to my absolute disappointment in them. But I think they’ll stay, and they’re doing really great, and I’m excited for this bullshit to be over….

Just in time for my warranty gal to leave. She’s going to a pot-lot (car lingo for a used car lot, with buy-here-pay-here ish going on), where she’s going to be the whole office. Now, I almost went to a Maserati store where I was gonna be the whole office, but that was like 15 deals a month, and they don’t take payments at the store… so it wouldn’t have been terrible… I’m not sure this is a wise career move for my friend here, but she has to make her own decisions, and this one gives her an extra $3/hr. On top of that, she really irritates me by watching TV on her phone while she works and blatantly ignoring people who talk to her. Love her as a person, kind of hate her as an employee.  I know she can be a hard worker, but she’s been an alright employee and we know that she hates her current position doing warranty, so I wish her the best. But fuck I don’t wanna train someone to do her job…

My moods are all over the place with the constant barrage of stress and idiocy that keeps getting thrown at me at work, plus we (mothership and I) haven’t gotten a weekend off since December… so that’s pretty shite. Still, she’s getting some good money this month and has offered to help me buy a new bed and a desk for my living room… so at least I know SHE appreciates me, if no one else. We’re hoping to get the office settled and be able to sit back and do actual office manager and controller things… like analyzing data and how procedures are getting done. It would be weird to actually have that kind of time, but ya know… it’s the dream.

Tonight Kyrie and Kira (my dogs) got into it and Kira tore Kyrie’s nose open… she’s okay, but I lost my damn shit. I was just so upset, because I’m working so hard to provide a nice life for them and they fight… it’s like a real kick in the dick.

I also impulse bought books again… but I think I’m good for a while. I just… needed something to look forward to, and books are always good for that.

My eating habits are terrible, in the sense I’m eating a fuck ton, but I’m eating less crap than normal… at least it’s not Taco Bell, it’s whatever I make in the Instant Pot that day. My stationary bike should be here any day and I’m hoping to do that nightly, as well as eating less… I must eat less… but this stress is just crazy. I don’t know how people function like this ALL THE TIME. I need a break… like a vacation… Ugh.


Guys, We Didn’t Talk About Resolutions

January has been crap, but my number one resolution for this year is TRYING to stay positive. I have a fun little positivity book I’m supposed to update daily and everything. I’m not updating daily… but I’m trying.

Other resolutions:

  • No internet dating
    • Read: {embrace that I’m not emotionally available to anyone}
  • Exercise more
    • Read: {be able to walk around without having an asthma attack}
  • Eat better
    • Read: {stop binge eating Chipotle when I’m sad}
  • Spend Less
    • Read: {stop buying art supplies, books, and Coca Cola on the daily}
  • Hydrate
    • Read: {drink something besides Coke and Sweet Tea}

So, I decided to cut internet dating because it doesn’t work and it makes me feel bad about myself. Also, though, I don’t make it easy for people to get to know me or even talk to me. I’m abrasive, closed off, and historically I prefer to make boys cry than let them violate me. So, I think in my year of preparation for being 30 (because 30 is death when you’re a woman, you know /s) I should just deal with that. I know who I am, and I know that I’m fine being alone, but I’ve grown so accustomed to the pursuit of a significant other that life without internet dating, even as terrible as it is, feels new and different. And I could definitely use some new and different in my life.

My ultimate goal with exercising and eating better is weight loss, and ideally I know I want to get back to high school weight (which is still fat, btw… like 60 lbs overweight still) but I don’t want to pin myself down to that number. I want to be able to walk without getting winded and I want to feel better physically more than I want to wear a certain size or see a certain number on the scale. I’m excited for my stationary bike to get here, because I’m motivated to do a thing. (It’s so rare that I’m motivated to do ANYTHING.) It’s supposed to come at the beginning of February. My mom also got me an Instant Pot for working so hard, so I’m excited to see what I can make with it and hopefully manage my caloric intake/expenditure better. I have this tendency to make everything about my weight, and while I am ENORMOUS (I’m not gonna sugar coat it, cuz then I might eat it) {as a fat person I get to make fat jokes guilt free} these resolutions aren’t inherently about my weight: they are about my health and my sense of well-being.

I finally got to really test out my Instant Pot that mothership got me, and I’m living for it. Today I made supa bomb green chili steak with rice and black beans, an amazing chicken soup, and a veggie side dish thing that’s essentially broccoli and cauliflower rice with peas and corn cooked in sofrito. It’s intended to be a side to whatever I make for dinner the next couple of days, which will probably be some chicken or fake turkey roast (Quorn brand non-meats are just tasty, y’all.)

Spending less is a resolution I often have, because I live in a comfortable debt. I have a mortgage, car payment, student loans, credit card debt, etc. I live pretty comfortably, and I don’t think too much about money most of the time, but I do buy things needlessly and I’d prefer to get out of debt instead of just repeatedly feeding it. Most notably, I have a tendency to put out a ton of money for art supplies and books. Of the things I could waste my money on, these aren’t the worst things, but I have stockpiled a supply of both. So, my goals are not to buy anymore, the exceptions being that if I use all of an art supply I can buy ONE more and if I take five books to sell or donate, I can buy one book (in theory using the money from selling the book). I also tend to overspend on groceries, so I’m hoping eating in a more health-conscious way will also help me spend less. Portion control can bleed into money, right?

Saying I want to hydrate for a resolution sounds like a very millennial thing to say, but the truth is that I have a tendency to avoid drinking actual water, and for a long time last year I was drink gallons of water a day, and it does wonders for everything from my skin to my appetite. Recently I got back into the habit of drinking Coca Cola and Monster, as well as a copious amount of iced teas. The teas don’t bother me that much, because it’s only 1 cup of sugar to a whole pitcher of tea, which I think is about a gallon and a half. The coke is out of hand, which is a startling sentence. I really gotta stop drinking so much processed crap, though. While I drink zero-calorie energy drinks, I can tell when I’m dehydrated because I get all swollen and wanna take a nap. I don’t know what I’m going to do to replace my caffeine intake… caffeine is definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to kick, but I know I can do this since I’ve done it before.

Also, I’ve quit smoking. I don’t really know how long it’s been since I smoked… which is not something most smokers will tell you, but I never really smoked on the daily. I always smoked when I went out, and I haven’t been going out, so that made it an unconscious decision to quit. I’ve decided to stick with it, though. I often find myself wanting one, but I just push it down. It’s been really hard recently, because I’ve found it’s really hard to live without a vice.

I don’t have that many vices, and it’s unfortunate that the one I have makes me feel terrible. With the obscene amounts of stress I’ve been under since the new year started, I could really use a vice, but…I don’t drink alone as a rule (cuz I have been known to develop a real bad drinking habit), I quit smoking, I can’t bring myself to become a stoner (I live in Denver, it’s legal, but I still might wanna find a new job at some point and have no idea how to detox, and in my industry we still follow federal regulations), and actual drug use (like abusing my stockpile of Xanax) has never really appealed to me. So, I’m often left with eating as a vice. Even if I make the healthiest food, I have a severe problem with portion control and as a result I’m fat and suffering physical ailments related to my size. Honestly, I have toyed with the idea of living on zero-calorie Monster and cigarettes and just giving up food… but I already had my battle with not eating, as well as the vicious binge-and-purge cycle, and I’m not sure I could win again.

My hands have suffered in place of my lack of vice, too, because I had stopped biting my nails for most of 2017, and I’ve just massacred them since the new year started. THEY ACTUALLY HURT. It’s not even just biting on them, either. I have a tendency to take clippers to try and “fix” the damage and cut them so much shorter than I even ripped them down to. I clip till they bleed, and to be honest that part is so satisfying. It’s like tiny self-harm that’s 100% socially acceptable. It really is just a self-harm substitute, cuz I end up biting and clipping when I’d prefer to squeeze tacks or jab myself with safety pins, etc. Fortunately, I don’t have to fight the cutting feelings a lot anymore, to the point I don’t even know how I used to do it, but the baseline compulsion is still there.

I guess one of my resolutions is to also try to leave my mental illness alone, as well. I’m aware I just talked about my eating disorder problems, and my self-harm problems, and that they were 100% unnecessary statements. I do that a lot. At some point I took my mental illness (bipolar I with anxiety, paranoia, delusions, and sociopathy if the doctors are to be believed) and made myself a chrysalis out of it to distance me from my life. I stopped going out, which is a thing I really enjoyed doing and often even did alone, but that’s not my fault because I have anxiety and staying home was just self-care. It’s a lie, but it sounds nice, right? I have awful paranoia surrounding other people and their perceptions of me, so I just started rejecting ANY thoughts people MIGHT have about me, to the point that I just stopped exhibiting any empathy toward other human beings at all and shut myself off from all people emotionally. Not to mention that my rejection of their perception of me is so strong I stopped wearing makeup or trying to take pride in my appearance. I’ve just been phoning it in for years under the pretense that the feminist movement allows me to not wear makeup, even though I like makeup and really kind of miss having the motivation to put it on. I could go on, but my point is that I’m using my mental illness like some kind of bubble to keep myself from being responsible for my life.

I’m not the kind of person to do that. I’m not the kind of person that gives myself permission to check out because of my crazy. I’ve never taken an actual mental health day. I’ve rarely lost control of my emotions outside my home, because normal people don’t mood swing, so I’m just not allowed to do it. You go home, have a break down, get up, and go to work the next morning, because that’s what normal people are supposed to do. The few times my emotions have gotten the better of me, I just bottle it back up as fast as I can, claim I threw up a lot and that’s why my face looks this way, all tear-streaked and spotty, and continue with my day under the guise of illness. I do not give myself permission to hide behind my mental illness like it’s a reason to be different, and I know that people with mental illness will tell you how unhealthy my approach is, but it’s how I get by in life.

Anyways, I want to stop using my crazy as an excuse for the things I’m doing to myself. I’m secluding myself from people I was good friends with. I’m using my mental illness as an excuse to look proper shite. My house has never been “clean” but it’s gotten worse and my excuse is just that I’ve been depressed…. I’m depressed every damn day for some amount of time, so that’s not a great excuse for me. I have to learn to deal with that shit. I’m… I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to ever open up emotionally ever again. I reserve that for having mental breakdowns on the phone with my mom. Still, I could get over the rest. I have before. Will I be happier? Fuck no. I’ll be miserable. But… I’m fucking miserable everyday anyways. So what’s the difference between miserable and gross or miserable and eyeliner sharp enough to cut someone? At least one of those projects a sense of wellness, even if it’s an illusion built on Smashbox.

So. That’s where I’m at, guys. It’s not a great place, but it’s not the worst I’ve been.

At least we finally hired a biller…
Well… technically she’s the second biller we hired, but the first one didn’t pass the drug test and wasn’t comfortable stopping her THC meds long enough to get a clean test. For what reason, I don’t know, but I sympathize. People are using THC and other weed products for a lot of things these days. It’s unfortunate, cuz I liked that biller, but she has to do what’s best for her. This other biller seems good if she stays. Typical car industry gal, but I think she’s teachable.

Aight, I gotta go to bed. It snowed a fuck ton and I will prolly have to drive in it tomorrow since Mothership has the norovirus I had over New Year.


EDIT: I almost forgot! How could I forget?! Rick Died.

My mom’s best friend has been living with, but not married to, her significant other for 20+ years, and one day last week she went home and found him dead in the front yard. We went over immediately, obviously.

He was still lying in the yard when we got there, surrounded by a fire truck and cop cars. You’d be amazed how long it takes to get a body removed. He was out there in the cold for hours… almost three hours from when we got there. Probably three and a half hours total from being found and called in. They have to call people and take pictures and you have to see the grief counselors and stuff… it’s a lot.

We went to the viewing Friday after work. He had to be autopsied. Because she wasn’t married to him, our friend doesn’t know how he really died, though. It’s weird you can live with someone for 20+ years and not be entitled to be their next of kin at all. It didn’t seem to be the fall, so he probably had a heart attack or another stroke. He gets cremated tomorrow, and I hope that gives her some real closure, especially since his friends and family seem to be such fucks. Weddings, funerals, and holidays always bring out the absolute worst in human beings.

I haven’t seen a dead body since my grandfather died. I was really emotional about it at 14, but this time it was nothing. It’s not like I didn’t know the guy, or that I was in shock. I just… didn’t really care about the body. It was there. It was Rick. He was dead. People were crying. I just felt nothing about it, other than it was really unfair to not let the spouse sit with him. I get the investigation portion of body removal, but it was three hours of being told you can’t touch the body in your yard that used to be someone you love, and that feels so wrong. At the viewing I staid away from him, cuz, tbh, the mortuary made him look like a bad Tussaud figure. I just knew that if I got too close I’d wanna poke him or something else completely inappropriate for when you’re viewing a dead body.

So… not sure what to do about my total lack of feelings about a dead body. Makes me a little more serial killer than I’m entirely comfortable with, but maybe it just means I’d make a good mortician. I’ve considered it.

Dear Diary

Today, I’m having problems with sobriety…

Let’s be clear, I am not an alcoholic or an addict in a traditional sense. I find it quite easy to go forever without drinking, I’ve never done drugs, and even though it’s legal I don’t regularly smoke pot… The problem is that occasionally my brain decides that we should go on a bender of some kind. Apparently, today is that day.

I don’t know what triggers it. I’m not under stress. I’m not anxious about anything. I’m not fighting with anyone. Work is pretty slow. By all rights there’s no reason for me to feel like I need to send myself into oblivion, but here I am fighting the urge to drink, or smoke, or SOMETHING. I think it’s correlated to my mania, but I can’t figure out the trigger… and so here I am.

I’ve been enjoying my sobriety. I had developed some habits for dealing with my depression that I didn’t like… and while none of them were illegal, I dislike anything I have to do daily just to avoid the blue, including prescription drugs. Truly, I’ve been enjoying not running home to cover up my feelings. I like that I feel like myself and I’m not… harming(?) myself. Granted, I’m still binge-eating, but I deserve SOME habit, right? Right.

I dunno. I’m just struggling and I can’t peg why and it bothers me so hard.


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


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.


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.


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.

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.