Actual Me
I was kind of half asleep, half awake until 10 last night, so I had planned to sleep in today, but, wouldn’t you know it, I woke up at exactly 3:00 AM, fed the cats, took my meds and now I’m wide awake. That would be due to the immediate release Adderall they have me on right now because of the ongoing national shortage. I’m used to the extended release, and forget that this stuff works its magic in no time.
I’ve been to the gym four times this week already. Do I want to make it five, since I’m up, anyway? If so, I need to get dressed right now.
Or perhaps I’m overachieving. I don’t think it’s going to dramatically change anything. It’s just a good habit-builder.
One thing I know for sure: I should sleep in on days Derek takes Desmond to the UNH games. They get home around 9 PM, which means I have to stay up with Aislyn, and it’s very difficult when I’m up at 3:00 in the morning. And I feel terrible because I’m so tired, I can’t really be present with her. I’m just struggling to stay awake. No caffeine, remember.
Maybe I won’t go today. I’m pushing myself pretty hard as it is. I could do some planning right now, so I’m not scrambling at 8:30. I can always go to the gym tomorrow if I want a 5th day this week.
I’ve also increased from 20, to 25, to 30 minutes a session, so I’ve got that going for me, too.
I might actually be getting to the point where I miss working out if I skip a day, as opposed to having to really push myself to go, because I’m right now sitting here, debating whether I’ve made the right choice.
I feel fortunate that I can still work out reasonably well, given my size. I’m finding it harder to move, in general. Full disclosure: bending down to put on socks is a nightmare. I avoid stairs. It’s much harder for me than it used to be to get up off the couch. Obviously I can’t run.
You wouldn’t think from looking at my pictures I’m that heavy. I tricks you, my friends. Those pictures were taken at such ridiculous angles, you would probably not even recognize actual me.
I will not show you a picture of actual me until I’ve gained a lot more ground and can share comparison photos. Maybe it’s stupid, but I’m too self-conscious.
You want to see a picture of me in my twenties, though?
Skin and bones! I was a toothpick. I weighed less than Derek’s German Shepherd, for crying out loud.
Just to give you an idea, right now, I am almost two of her. Her, plus 100.
Do I expect to ever be that tiny again? No, of course I don’t. Do I want to be? Not really. I mean, she’s cute, but where are her boobs?
Somewhere between her and where I am right now, that would be great. I’m not 22 anymore, I’ve had two kids, I don’t have to be a twig. Those days are over, and really, are super skinny people happier? I promise you, I wasn’t. While it’s true I didn’t have sleep apnea or high blood pressure, I engaged in other unhealthy behaviors in lieu of overeating.
So then, why this? You must be asking. Why bother losing weight if you don’t think it will make you happier?
I’m doing this for many reasons.
Better quality of life (to breathe, move easier)
Health (live longer, eliminate sleep apnea)
For my kids (so they don’t repeat my mistakes)
Increase self-confidence
Convenience (move faster, more efficiently)
More selection in clothes
Look better in clothes
I understand that this will not satisfy the bottomless void in my life that I’ve been many decades trying to fill with food, material things, and other probable vices. I realize that is something separate from surgery that I need to work out with professional help.
I think deep down I am still just the little girl looking for her mother’s highly conditional approval. Ironically, I’ve used food to soothe that need and become the thing she most feared.
This post has taken a turn for the psychological, hasn’t it.
They will give me a surgery date tomorrow at my consultation with the surgeon. This process is finally moving along.
