Three MFing Pounds.

Life has been hard, as of late. I’m not really sure why I feel this way, to be honest. I mean, yeah, we have a new GM that’s kind of trying to fix everything at once, but that hasn’t really affected me THAT MUCH. I’ll have to do a little more IT work, because he let the company we were using go… but other than that… whatever.

I’ve just been depressed, recently. Can’t seem to break it for more than a day, and of course being UP for a day means I crash the next day. I’ve been trying to diet and exercise… and I honestly think that’s a contributing factor.

Now, let me clarify… It’s not the diet that depressed me, but the fact that I kept to the diet and exercise for seven days, I gained 3 lbs instead of losing anything. Before anyone says it, I don’t think it’s me gaining muscle mass. I’ve been walking, not weight lifting. Trying to get as close to 10k steps as I can. Closer to 6-8k most days, but that’s still way more than I ever used to move. You’d think I’d drop half a pound or something… not gain three motherfucking pounds. It’s discouraging as fuck.

On top of that, I have a weirdness with exercise. People always say the same stupid shit about exercise to people that don’t like to exercise.

If you keep at it, you’ll learn to love it and you’ll get addicted to it.

Bitch, no I will not. Stop telling me that. Do you know how quickly people get addicted to heroin? Almost immediately. Nicotine? Pretty quick. Gym? Fuck you. I’ve been trying to get addicted to exercising for 10+ years. Still hasn’t taken. I sometimes manage to develop a habit for months to a year, but I’ve never been addicted to it. I never CRAVE to exercise. I have to negotiate with myself over it, or berate myself into submission to do it. I never feel GLAD I exercised. I never get done and think, “Yeah, I wish I could feel like this all the time.” I always hate it. I always get done and just start debating taking up meth or cocaine, both of which are much more addictive and effective for weight loss.

Maybe it’s just me.
I can’t think of a single good association I’ve ever had with exercise since I was a kid, so maybe I have just been conditioned to hate it. #Pavlov
Maybe it’s because I’m bipolar, so my brain doesn’t release endorphins like it should.
All I know is that I’m really motherfucking tired of being told exercise is addictive and NEVER being able to get myself addicted to it.
No. No it motherfucking is not. If it is, then that shit isn’t universal, so you should still stop saying it. You’re just making me feel broken, and I have enough issues getting motivated.

The only way I’m any good at exercise is to be angry. Tell me I can’t do something, I’ll do it or literally die trying just to shut your stupid fucking face. I’m like She-Hulk or something. Thing is, though, I can’t be that angry every single god damn day. It’s a form of mania. After mania, I fucking crash. SO… yeah, I can go on that 7 mile hike with you and rage my way through it, but for the next week I will only have the energy to get up, go to work, come home, and cry till I fall asleep. That’s my reality. I don’t like it, but I can’t change it.

The diet hasn’t been bad. I’m kind of used to the eating habits, now. To the point that I had Chipotle yesterday, and it wasn’t even very good. Like, I just wished I’d cooked instead of getting it. It wasn’t bad by any means. I just would have prolly enjoyed my own cooking better, and it would have had less calories. Lesson learned.

Maybe I’ll just stop eating lunch and live off caffeine. I have to lose weight, and I’m not interested in being healthy about it. I’ve never wanted to be healthy. I don’t wanna be fit. I just wanna be rail thin. If I had a genie… my first wish would be, “I wanna be a size small with C-cup boobs forever.” People don’t get that concept. It’s how you can tell they’ve never been fat. I don’t wanna be able to run a 5k. I don’t wanna eat healthy greens. I don’t wanna eat heart healthy. I don’t really care about living a long time. I just wanna be thin.

But I also want to eat food I like.

The two don’t really go together.

My doctor once did a genetic test on me to see what foods my body would digest most effectively. It’s supposed to be a scientific approach to weight loss, because you just change over to foods you’re genetically pre-disposed to digest effectively, and you should lose some weight and feel better with only minimal efforts. My diet was a VERY low-carb Mediterranean diet, and it would have worked… because I’d rather NOT EAT than eat most of the things on my food list. Not terribly fond of mackerel and olives with bitter leafy greens you’re not allowed to cook with brown sugar and pork fat. Just… gross.

I’m gonna try this shit for another week… if I don’t lose some weight, I’m just going to stop eating lunch. That means, since I already don’t eat breakfast, I will be eating just dinner. Cuts my cals to about 800 on a bad day… if I don’t lose weight eating that little… I dunno. Maybe I’ll just take a knife and cut all the fat off like that girl in the ABCs of Death and see if I bleed out. Least I’d die pretty.

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How Many Times?

::queue Insane Clown Posse song from my youth that I never admit to liking but secretly know all the words to::

How many times will I restart a diet? How many times will I fail?

In this case… one more time.
So here I go again. I’m not happy about it. I’m not going to get my hopes super up… but I’m going to try. I’m going to try REALLY hard.

I found a website yesterday that showed me how I look now, versus how I COULD look if I reached my ideal weight.

modelmydiet.com

It was a really interesting moment for me.

You see… I’ve never been thin. I’ve been THINNER, but never thin. As far back as I can remember weighing myself, I’ve been 200lbs plus. So unlike some people that were once thing, and then became overweight, I’ve never had a comparison of what I could be. I just have always been me.

This imagine is probably the most inspirational thing I’ve seen in my weight loss journey. It’s defining. It gives a certain amount of tangibility to my journey and what I could accomplish if I really stick to it. It made me sad, though, because I am so far from this goal (135 lbs far, to be exact). Still, seeing it, seeing the end goal, is so much better than anything I could come up with in my head.

If you like this, btw, and would like to see how you would look at goal weight, the website was www.modelmydiet.com.

I Have Binge Eating Disorder

I’ve always been fat.

Let’s start there.
It’s not new to me. It’s not something that happened after high school and I have no idea how it happened. It’s not something that snuck up on me. It’s not something I’m unfamiliar with.
I was born a 9lb baby. That’s a big ass baby, if you didn’t know.
I was a chubby toddler, then a fat kid, then a fat teenager, and I topped out at a fat adult.

I wasn’t really aware that being fat was a bad thing for a long time. It was a non-issue as a kid, and remained one until I transferred into public school. Lots of thing happened when I transferred to public school:

  • I had problems making new friends
  • I was WAY ahead of the class
  • I had no sense of style, because up till then I had to wear a dress to school everyday, so I was really into jeans
  • I realized that I was kind of a nerd

Also, it was brought to my attention that being fat was something unacceptable. It didn’t get better in middle school, and actually progressed to the point that people hurled rocks at my head. They were also good shots, so I took more than one to the back of the head on my walks home from the bus stop. It was earth-shattering. I don’t think anything, in my whole life, including my shitty ass father, has made me so upset. No one ever did that before. I was just me, and people were just them, and we had all been friends, regardless.

Still, I managed to take those feelings, push them down, purify them into a gooey black substance, and coat my soul with it. I called that my goth phase, because that’s how I chose to show my frustration with the world. I still wasn’t pretty. I still wasn’t thin. I still didn’t seem acceptable. I was, however, scary and Columbine was still a really big thing, so people were wary that any day I might come to school and shoot them all in the face… so the bullying stopped there. I was cold, introverted, confused, hurt, and angry on top of all those other feelings adolescence already throws in your face. I still am, truth be told. I’m just less confused, now.

Somewhere in high school I started trying to diet. I wasn’t good at it. My friend’s mother also consistently fed us a diet of Gushers and French Bread Pizza every single time we came over, so that made dieting hard. Still, I was back in a circle of friends, and we varied in size and shape from “naturally meth-addict thin” to “whatever, I-love-cake fat” and I didn’t mind myself so much.

After high school I tried some other kinds of diets. The most effective was “don’t eat, smoke a lot, drink ridiculous quantities of espresso, and spend any and all free time at the gym so you don’t eat.” You might recognize that as an eating disorder. It definitely was. I lost a substantial amount of weight, but being a fat girl, people congratulated me. Eventually, though, I reached a point in my life that was hard. I have no coping mechanisms for hard… except eating. Thus ended my streak.

I didn’t used to binge eat like I do now. I can’t say when eating transitioned into something I could use to cope with unpleasant emotions. It’s just something I noticed I did. So, when my life got hard, and I got upset, and I realized I was binging, I did the natural thing… I purged.
Seemed logical: If you eat too much, just pull some back out.

I couldn’t keep up with that. It freaked me out when every single time I ate I became violently ill involuntarily. That’s when it dawned on me that normal people don’t pack themselves to capacity and then throw up to feel semi-normal again.

I’ve tried really hard to be normal since then. Reasonable diets, and reasonable exercise… but reasonable doesn’t show any results, and I still binge when I’m upset. I’m upset A LOT. I’m crazy, unmedicated, and have an excess of free time by myself. It seems to me that unless I totally stop eating and workout 4+ hours a day, I’m never going to lose any weight, just because that’s how I’m wired, now.

I’ve tried Paleo, Vegan, Vegetarian, Pescatarian, Weight Watchers, Adkins, HCG… You name it, I tried it and it failed me… or I failed it… None of those programs are designed to deal with someone that is incapable of dealing with themselves without using food to shove down all the bad feelings. You’d think vegan would work, because you’re eating just veg, so maybe you could binge on veg and not feel bad about it, but here’s the thing… veg is not a satisfying food unless it’s deep fried. When you’re attempting to push something like self hatred down into your stomach and you’re packing it down with carrots… it doesn’t work. I have eaten so many god damn carrots, just to get fed up, get in my car, go to whatever drive thru was closest, and then further pack grease on top of carrots… to the point I made myself physically ill. It was obscene, and I’m glad no one I know witnessed me eating… prolly close to 7 lbs of food… 5lbs of which were totally unsatisfying carrots. It was miserable and not at all good.

So how do normal people cope with feelings? Seriously, I’d love to know. As an unmedicated bipolar with a myriad of co-morbid traits from EVERY personality disorder, all I do is wade through the shit of the emotional lottery. Will going to work make me want to brutally murder and dismember everyone I see because they’re morons and worthless sacks of flesh that just contribute to the overpopulation of the earth? Am I going to have that feeling where I want to crawl under my desk and die, today? Am I going to start crying because I can’t add up a ticket correctly? Maybe my pants don’t fit right today. Maybe I keep dropping things. Maybe it’s one of those days that the boss asks me a bunch of questions I can’t even begin to answer and then gets frustrated when I need some time to investigate answers. Maybe absolutely nothing is wrong, but I just burst out into rage and tears, and have to figure out what to do instead of hurling things at people and windows.

How the fuck am I supposed to cope with that?

Know what triggered today? Know why I’m angry and frustrated and sad and want to either binge eat Mexican food or smash things into little bitty pieces or possibly even smash someone’s face in until they’re just unrecognizable wet bone? Want to know? I was supposed to go have my Well Woman physical today. Quite the unpleasant day, but then the doctor’s office moved my appointment to tomorrow and didn’t tell me. So I took time from work, got my mother to drive me to my appointment (it snowed… I can’t fuck with certain levels of snow) only to find out we’d been waiting for 15 mins for no reason, and that I have to get back out there to BFE tomorrow.

So I’m mad. And I want to eat or hurt someone. I can do neither. I’m freaking out. I hate everything. Part of me wants to die.