The Thing About Me

Apparently, I failed to track anything at all on the 20th. So I lost my 48-day tracking streak.

I’m going to lose my phone service in a few days because I can’t pay the bill. My credit, which has actually improved considerably, is going to tank again because I won’t be able to make any payments on time.

I used to be good at saving money. Now I have no ability to save it.

I just hate that even the smallest setback, like being out of work or underemployed temporarily, completely screws up everything. It shouldn’t be like this. I hate living this way. Always in crisis to the point that crisis now seems normal. February 10 can’t come soon enough.

Sometimes I wish I had chosen a career path that would have guaranteed financial stability instead of just doing what I liked. But what? Law school? Med school? Engineering? BAHAHAHAHAHA! Yeah, right. I could do any of those things.

If someone would just recognize that I can write, this would be a non-issue. But I keep getting rejection after rejection.

It turns out a lot of people can write. That’s all I really know about it. I kind of hate that so many people seem to be good at what I do. Is that selfish? I suppose it is.

I’m in a foul mood, aren’t I.

The thing about me is that when I’m this unhappy, everything looks grim. I’ve gone from tracking to money to profession and painted all of them in the worst possible light. I am Debbie Downer right now.

The thing about me is I know it about myself. As Lori says, I awfulize everything when I’m upset. I know I’m doing it even while I’m doing it.

The thing about me is I don’t stay that way. I’m always fighting the good fight with myself to see things more positively, particularly in my personal circumstances.

These problems are temporary.

I need to look to the people who have not rejected me. In deed, I am grateful for them. ❤️

When I start working full time again, and after I’m caught up on the bills, I can begin to work on accruing some savings, like I had been before the money ran out.

I can start another tracking streak. It will be easier now to maintain with the habit tracking app. No need to beat myself up; I already have a new system in place.

There. I’ve tricked myself into a better mood (I’m poking fun at myself. After all this negativity, I figure I’d better be candid about that).

They Knew I Was Coming

I’m on my lunch at work. Look at all of these cookies and cupcakes. How much do I want to dive into all of this? But I won’t. I brought my protein shake, and my water enhancer, and that’s all I intend to have.

I have two hours left after this. I haven’t done anything but ring all day. They’re training me on the cash register. I hope it’s just for training. I hope I don’t end up stuck behind a register for 4 1/2 hours a day for the entire time I’m here. I don’t know if my body can take that much standing in one place.

Oh, no. Merry Christmas Darling is on the intercom. I wasn’t prepared for this. There’s a kid in the break room with me. I hadn’t heard it at all yet, this year. This song always makes me cry, now.

Alright, it’s over. I did okay because I was typing the whole time.

Ten minutes. I just sat down!

Only two more hours, though. I can do two more hours. I think.

I wish they’d let me leave when the lines died down, and do something on the floor, but whatever. It would also frustrate me to have to keep going back to the front every time it got backed up, so at least this way, I’m not working on any projects that are destined to remain unfinished because of all the shoppers. I guess.

Okay, I have to go.

Miscellany

I found a nice habit tracker app yesterday. I’m not going to say too much about it, yet, because I’m saving the information for a LCC post. I used the tracker yesterday and had an on-program day for the first time in quite a while.

I hope to get to the gym today. Maybe if I leave at 5:30. When I wait until 6:00, Desmond is up and then I don’t want to go. I’ll say I’m going to go later, but I almost never do.

My surgery date looms ever closer. I am excited, but also starting to be a little nervous. I think that’s probably normal. It is a big change. You have to go from living to eat to eating to live. So it’s not only a lifestyle, but also a mindset shift.

My dad and stepmom are coming up Christmas Eve, and I think my stepmom is probably going to grill me about this decision, and why not medication, and so forth. I am really not looking forward to that.

I can predict exactly what she’ll say about the medication. The nurse told me they don’t do that because there’s so much demand for it, which is completely ridiculous, I grant you, but she’s going to start with her you need to’s. “You need to do this,” and “you need to do that,” and “you need to email the president of the United States so they give you what you want.”

I notice that every morning, lately, it’s hard for me to write posts because my eye turns. I thought it was fatigue, but I wonder if it isn’t something to do with my eyesight. Or my progressives. When I move my phone closer to my face, it seems easier to read and write. May be worth looking into.

I feel like I could go back to sleep for an hour, and I might.

Reality Check

I’ve gained two more pounds. Am I surprised? No, given that I have only loosely been following the guidelines over the last two weeks.

I talk a big talk, but my execution and follow through are poor, if not altogether nonexistent.

I was doing so well, too. Now I’m back where I started.

Four pounds may not seem like anything to most people, but it matters to the surgeon. It matters to me.

I’ve got to find a way to make this system work for me again. I’ve got to set some emergency goals for myself:

• I will check in to the Baritastic app at least 5 times daily to ensure tracking accuracy.

• I will log the entire day for three consecutive days.

We’ll see how I follow through on these.

I wonder if there’s an app that allows you to create and track goals. That would be awesome to write about for LCC. I’m going to go and investigate this.

Danger Zone

I haven’t checked the scale all week. I haven’t tracked that well, either. I’m afraid of the direction I’m headed.

I’m not sure if I might be backsliding into depression? That would make it difficult to follow the program.

When I don’t work enough, but am by myself a lot, I tend to think too much, which makes me sad. I’m only working part time, and spend a fair amount of time on my own. I keep busy, but the thoughts still come. I crave comfort or junk food that I then don’t track, and invariably I start gaining again.

I eat less when I work. There’s not as much time.

I can’t get depressed again, it’s not an option. I have to do things that will keep my spirits up: exercise, read, listen to happy music.

I can beat this.

Default

I’m supposed to eat within the first hour of getting up, but I don’t want anything. I had too much chocolate last night.

It’s not going well right now. I couldn’t relax last night, so I came downstairs and could not resist the Hersheys in the fridge. I knew I shouldn’t have bought them the moment I tossed them in my shopping bag. I wanted something for a cute display tree bowl I found that I absolutely didn’t need. I filled the bowl and didn’t touch it until after dinner. Even then I did okay. It was after bed that I blew it.

Speaking of blowing it, why am I blowing it so hard? Yes, I’m super emotional because of my monthly, but this didn’t really happen last month. I mean, I didn’t completely go off the rails.

Maybe it’s not my monthly. Maybe it’s not even my typical depressive symptoms, which are pretty well treated, in any case. Maybe these feelings are legitimate sadness. Sadness I’ve been pushing away repeatedly that now I have to deal with. I don’t know, I’m just guessing.

You know how, if you ignore your problems for years, they don’t go away? They compound like interest on debt. Then one day, all of a sudden, it seems, you’re in default.

I’m afraid it’s time to pay the bill.

Get Back on Track

This morning’s weigh-in was, not surprisingly, disappointing. I was unable to undo the damage that occurred over the week. So here I sit, remorseful, 2 pounds heavier than I was a week ago.

But, like I said, there’s nothing I can do now but learn from it. Punishing myself will only lead to shame>overeating>more weight gain.

The two things I know are that I didn’t track that well and that I drank too much coffee, so that’s what I need to work on this week. Also, Lindt Chocolate and Dunkin’ were unhelpful.

Maybe I should be realistic and limit myself to three coffees while I’m home. I won’t be home much longer anyway, as I’ve found two part time jobs in retail, for the interim until my surgery. It’s not a whole lot of hours, but at least I’ve got something.

I went off on this impossibly long tangent about my skin, redheaded women, Social Darwinism, and the purpose of a blog post. It was potentially three different posts. I cut all of it. You’re welcome.

I’m going to try not to go off on tangents from now on. That’s basic writing 101 and I’m using my ADHD as an excuse to do little more than engage in public free association.

Maybe structuring my writing will generalize to organizing other aspects of my life, such as tracking better, limiting coffee, time management, etc. You never know.

Nonsense and Consequence

It’s looking like I’ve gained 3.6 pounds this week. It might be water retention. It might be that I had three slices of pizza last night—not a good choice. Or it might be that I’ve been lazier about tracking, or too much coffee. Or all of those things. It hasn’t been a good week.

Chalk it up as a learning experience. Make better choices moving forward. That’s about all I can do. Forgive myself. Move on. If it were easy, everyone would be thin and it wouldn’t be so hard to stay that way.

I guess I must not have slept well again. I feel like I could lay back down and close my eyes right now. But I skipped the gym yesterday. It’s a commitment to myself. If I break it repeatedly, I’m not treating myself with much respect.

Maybe I will just rest my eyes until it’s time to go.

Everyday seems like a struggle. Struggle to wake up, struggle to stay awake, struggle to get in a workout, struggle to stay off the couch, out of the kitchen, away from the Keurig…

I think I’m tired, despite the CPAP. I don’t use it enough. My sleep is still broken, and I have nightmares.

I’m having a hard time doing this right now because my eyes are crossing because I’m tired. If you’re looking for sleep advice, you’ve come to the wrong person, my friend.

I can’t even concentrate. Right now, I’m thinking about how do you even wash clothes on a washboard? Where did that come from? What does that have to do with sleep?

I think I legitimately need to go back to bed for a little while.

Leah’s Less-is-More Lunch Review

This is a half salad I got at Panera. It is the Balsamic Chicken Greens with Grains. 290 calories. Worth every bite.

Progress

Yesterday was okay. Better than the last two days, still not great. I drank a lot of coffee and at the end of the day I broke down and broke out the Lindt chocolate balls. I only had a serving, but still…

And I didn’t track all the extra coffee or the chocolate. Of course, it’s not too late. I’ve been known to go back later and add in all the food I conveniently omitted. Just for the sake of accurate record keeping. It helps to go back and see patterns and so forth.

It was good that yesterday was better than the three days preceding it. Progress, not perfection, right?

The book I’m reading, Mind Prep, by Connie Stapleton, says that people with obesity are often perfectionists or black or white thinkers.

So, the thinking goes, I’ve either had a great day or a terrible day, and if it’s terrible, I might as well give up completely for the day, week, month, till New Year’s.

Maybe it’s not always as exaggerated as this. Or maybe it is, when you boil it down. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve had thoughts like these plenty of times in my life.

It’s all about shifting your mindset. When you can do that, you can start to be successful. When you can embrace slow progress and baby steps, you begin to build momentum.

If you keep saying, “I’ll start tomorrow,” you get nowhere. You go backwards. You have to stay on program, even if you mess up. You get back on the horse as quickly as you can. Preferably the same day.

A day is always salvageable. Meaning, you can make it worse by giving up completely, but why do that? You’re setting yourself that far back. Mitigate the damage. Forgive yourself. Move on.

I’ve said the same two things about 100 different ways, haven’t I. Sorry. When I am passionate about something, I often talk in circles.

Looking at the bigger picture, I’ve made quite a lot of progress. I’ve lost 6.8 pounds in the last month or so. Lots of non-scale successes, too.

So the last few days have been a little weird. It’s okay. As long as it’s only a few days. As long as I get back on track. And I will.

Damage Control

The last few days have been kind of a mess as far as tracking and eating habits. I feel I’ve reverted back to my old ways and it’s going to show on the scale this week.

I’ve tried my best to keep busy. Yesterday I even cleaned Aislyn’s room without any help from Aislyn (I usually request at least a minimal effort from the kids when I clean their rooms). But I still fell apart around 4:30.

If I eat more than every 3-4 hours, I’ll be eating too much. I don’t think it’s what I’m eating, either. My food choices on program are pretty solid.

4:30 is right in that hardest part of the day for me, the time before dinner, so maybe I should make that my main focus for the day. Maybe I should have a bigger meal as near that time as I can without spoiling dinner.

I doubt anything I do within reason will spoil dinner. I have a hearty appetite. Even as a little skinny brat, I could eat.

Eating a good size meal before dinner might help me control my portion size at dinner, too.

It’s hard to stay under budget when you get up at 3:00 in the morning. You should get some relief for exercise, but they don’t like that at the clinic. They tell you not to deduct the calories on the app for exercise. I don’t know why.

You have to start eating within an hour after you get up, too, so no wiggle room there.

So it typically goes:

• 3:00 breakfast

• 6:00 or 7:00 small snack

• 10:00 or 11:00 lunch

• 1:00-3:00 large snack

• 4:00-6:00 dinner

So that theoretically should work. Why doesn’t it, always? I think because of the huge variabilities in times. If I have my big snack at 1:00, no wonder I’m starving by 4:30.

I’m going to have to really push the fluids and see if I can’t hold off on the big snack until closer to 3:00.

The good news is I still have four days to play with. It’s not too late to turn this around. At least to break even or minimize the damage from my first three days of more loosely following the program.

I have to go upstairs, put on some pants and shovel off my car so I can go work out. No, don’t worry, I’m not sitting here in my skivvies, I’ve got gym shorts on. I just thought it would sound funny to say.

Multiples

Another not great evening. Multiple snacks I didn’t even need. Well, yeah. No one needs multiple snacks.

Old habits seem to be creeping back in. I’m not sure why. I’m eating every 3-4 hours, right? Very close to it. Not skipping meals.

Is it boredom? Except for dinner, I eat the exact same things everyday. But I’m okay with that.

It’s not like I sat around and did nothing yesterday. Actually, I kept very busy all day and got a lot done. I wrote two blog posts, cleaned the kitchen, living room, bathroom, put together a coat rack, helped Aislyn make a Christmas present, and helped her wrap a present.

That doesn’t sound like that much, now that I’ve listed everything.

I don’t know, but I would swear that my watch feels looser around my wrist. It could be the band is just stretched.

One good thing: the kids left out Reese’s Pieces on the island and when I got up just before midnight, I felt hungry, and I wanted a handful so badly, but I didn’t take even one Reese. That’s what Aislyn calls a singular Reese’s Piece. How cute is she?

But, yeah. I could’ve capped off a not very good night with some of my kids’ candy, which was sitting right there, open, in plain sight, not in the vault, not even in the cabinet. But I made the more empowered decision to put the Reese’s in the cabinet and leave a polite note reminding the kids to keep stuff like that in the vault or they run the risk of having it “sampled.”

The vault is a lock box with a combination that the rest of the family knows but I don’t. We keep tempting nonperishables in it. It was my idea.

I’ve manipulated my environment all kinds of ways to make it harder to access my trigger foods. I’ve put food up high, where I can’t reach it, out of sight, behind cabinet doors. I’ve hidden it altogether, but Derek doesn’t like that strategy because then he can’t find things, either.

Finally, I’ve just stopped buying certain foods. I can’t have ice cream in the house, for example. Not even single servings, because I’ll oftentimes eat more than just the one serving.

I used to buy mochi, because they’re so little, but because they’re so little, I’d have three in one sitting. That’s half a box, gone.

I have difficulty stopping at one of anything. And it’s not just food. It probably wouldn’t be inaccurate to say I have an addictive personality. This might be a good topic to bring up in therapy tomorrow.

I don’t know if there’s any cure for an addictive personality. I think all you can do is develop and strengthen your compensation strategies. But my therapist would be the person to ask.

I’m genuinely glad I wrote this post. I mean, I always am happy to have written a post that says something, and I hope you are, too. But I don’t always expect to come out of them with an action plan. So this is a nice Christmas bonus for me. Albeit non-monetary.

On My Mind

I had a day of ill-advised choices yesterday. Occasionally right after a weigh-in, I let loose. I can’t do that, anymore. My body’s not going to care what part of the week it is. If I eat too much after the surgery, I’ll get really sick.

I got up at 2:00 this morning. I was having weird dreams that made me not want to be asleep, anymore.

I could tell you I have nothing to say, and stick rigidly to my principles, but that’s not true, and I’m not going to do it. I am worried about this deportation nonsense. Not for me, but for other people who have lives and families here.

I am angry with the majority of the US population for behaving so ignorantly. I don’t care if I lose potential readers.

You voted for a man who went on television and suggested injecting bleach into the skin to protect oneself from COVID-19. Some people actually did it—and died.

And you reelected him.

Congratulations, and good luck with that. God help us all.

Down

I am down a pound for the week, one pound below my starting weight for the program. That of course is on my scale; not theirs, but still. Yay!

In other news, the kids’ teacher conferences both rocked the house. Both have amazing grades and stellar comments from all of their teachers.

Desmond’s social studies: “has special gifts.” He is not wrong.

His ELA teacher thinks he’s hilarious. It’s because the things he says are so intelligent, so grown up, it’s like you’ve read them right out of a book or an article. He is 11. I thought I was advanced at his age.

Aislyn is a joy to have in class because she is so kind. Like Desmond, she is very bright, but she radiates positivity that then spreads to the rest of her class. I hope and pray that that lasts forever for her, that nothing robs her of her joy and love for everything. I guess there’s no reason to have that fear, is there? She’s not living my childhood.

Her teacher says she is very much her own person, marches to her own beat, comfortable playing by herself or with friends. I think that is a great thing. I absolutely love who she is. I love that she’s not a mini-me.

It’s obvious I adore my children. I love that they are not my carbon copies. I thank God for their sakes that they don’t have the social anxiety I struggled with my entire childhood and adolescence. I’m over the moon that they have friends and are well-liked.

I was so marginalized and misunderstood. Even my first year in college. To spend that much time as an outcast, so damaging to a person.

I think God or the universe eventually gives you the things you always wanted for yourself…to your kids. That’s what my mom used to say. I think my mom always wanted to be smart and have beautiful, soft skin, and she said I got those things.

All I ever wanted was to be accepted. And all the kids know and like Desmond and Aislyn. And why wouldn’t they? They’re the best.

God blessed me with them, I know. When I feel really down about other things, I remember that.

Existential Crisis

I’ve wasted a lot of time already this morning, stewing in my own juices over things I can’t control.

Sometimes I get paralyzed by problems I’m unable to solve. Rather than move on from them, I fixate, obsess.

One of the best therapists I ever had, my first, when I was 14, told me not to worry about the things I couldn’t control. I’ve tried to live by that, but it’s not always easy, especially for someone who worries as much as I do.

I had a not good night last night. I won’t get into what I ate or how many calories I consumed. Let’s just say it was too many.

I shouldn’t still be dwelling on last night, should I? It’s a new day. Another chance to get it right. Chalk it up as a lesson in what not to do and move on.

I wish I could see all of life’s situations that way.

Historically, other people have mostly seen me as having a negative outlook, despite my efforts to think and act positively. I am somewhat negative but try to fight my own negativity.

All of the work I put into trying to be positive makes me feel as though I am a positive person, even if, in reality, I am not. So that when someone remarks on my negativity, I feel an extra sense of discouragement because of the effort I’ve put towards being positive.

I think the negativity is learned behavior from my mother. And even my grandmother, who seemed to be an angry person. For good reason, but nevertheless.

My grandmother, my mother, and I: all of us were dealt a crappy hand. The things that happened to us were probably enough to shape our outlooks.

Unfortunately, a negative outlook doesn’t bode well for the future. Is unhelpful at best.

But I don’t think I’m negative all the time. Usually, I have high hopes for the future. And I do everything I can to shape the best possible outcome. It’s when I can’t see the future I had originally envisioned that I start feeling the negativity.

And I think that’s what’s happening, here.

Two years ago, a friend asked me, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” And for the first time in my life, the answer was so clear, so simple, and so true, that it practically knocked the wind out of me. And then and there, I saw my future.

And here and now, I don’t see that future. Or, I’m afraid that future is not my reality. And I am devastated by even that possibility.

And there’s no one who can coddle me and tell me it’s all going to be okay. No one knows that.

I just have to rely on myself.

My son would say I’m having an existential crisis, and he would not be wrong.

All Systems Are Snow

I’m all dressed for the gym, but I don’t know if I dare drive in this weather. If I need new tires?

I should clarify: the weather app says it’s snowing, that it’s supposed to snow off and on all day. I haven’t actually looked out the window to see if it’s true. Sometimes the weather app is wrong.

Full disclosure: there is nothing I’d rather do right now than to rip off this bra. All they ever do is irritate my skin. All I can think about every second of every minute is how itchy I am.

If I knew I wasn’t going to the gym anytime soon, I absolutely would take it off. Bras are stupid.

I had my last visit with the nutritionist before surgery. It went well. I’m actually down 5 pounds from the last time I weighed in there. I wasn’t expecting that.

I’ve been trying to cut back on coffee these last couple of days, down to two cups: one first thing, one in the late afternoon. It certainly makes me appreciate it more. It feels more like a treat again than something I’m on the verge of abusing. It brings down the calories for sure.

I must be a volume drinker. I pick a low or no-calorie beverage and consume massive quantities of it.

The problem is that I just looked up the meaning of volume eater and it’s not the same thing. A volume eater will eat large amounts of the same healthy foods to their personal advantage. I drink obscene amounts of the same beverage to my own detriment. Diet soda is terrible for you. Decaf coffee with artificially sweetened creamer, while not as bad as soda, is still not great.

Some health professionals, e.g. naturopaths, believe that artificially sweetened anything is not good, and that you’re better off with regular sugar.

I would imagine that for most people, it all boils down to moderation.

But for those of us who hardcore struggle with moderation, there is bariatric surgery, and the strict dietary protocol that goes along with it.

My WW leader made a good point about my surgery being in January. I can enjoy the holidays. Her daughter had the surgery, so she knows that it’s a lot to deal with.

No one around here has a delay, so I’m thinking I’m good to go.

Drive safe today, you locals. Keep your wits about you.

Bah, Humbug

Another day, another down.

There was this health writer opening, specializing in weight loss. I thought it would be perfect for me. I sent them all of my best health and wellness articles from Content Cucumber.

Just another big, fat no.

I guess I haven’t always been rejected. I was offered that marketing assistant job last year that I foolishly didn’t accept because I was still holding out for Hutchinson. Altogether, I’ve been offered three volunteer writer roles. For that zodiac publication, I was one of eight finalists selected from 1800 applicants. So it’s not that nobody recognizes my talent.

It’s just that none of it has been enough to launch me.

I don’t need to be famous. I just need to pay the bills.

A lot of people say I’m really good. I don’t think they’re just saying it. Why, then, can’t I get even a sustainable job as a writer?

I’m having, as Desmond would say, an existential crisis. He is 11. How does he know what an existential crisis is? Never mind.

Other than family, writing is my whole life. It always has been. Ever since I knew how to do it.

If I can’t make a living out of it, how good at it can I really be?

I’ve tried diligently for four years to find sustainable work as a writer. At what point do I say it’s just not in the cards for me?

You are probably confused, right now. You’re thinking: Haven’t you just gone back into teaching?

That is correct. I have.

I have returned to teaching because I like working with kids. I’m very good with and enjoy one particular age group. And I can make a sustainable living off teaching.

I have returned to teaching because, even after four years of trying, I have failed to make a livable wage as a writer. And I have more than my own needs to consider.

I start a new teaching job with my preferred age group in February, after my surgery. I need to find something in the interim, since I’m no longer at the middle school. It was my choice to leave mid-year. It was not an easy decision. It was not a good situation.

I still come across some writing roles as I’m looking for temp work. That’s how I happened upon the health writer opening. I thought I could teach and write health articles part time. Nope.

I guess I just feel like, if I were truly talented as a writer, wouldn’t I be able to find work in it? Surely it wouldn’t be this difficult?

I am just feeling discouraged by rejection. I’m not always rejected. It just really stings when I am. It’s my all time biggest fear.

But I think it says something about me that I risk rejection regularly, even though I am afraid of it. Maybe I’m stronger than I think I am.

I did not mean for this post to spiral out like this, and now I have to go, and I feel like it’s unfinished. Well, I’ve got lots of unfinished business, I assure you, not the least of it being in my coffee cup. Till next time.

Something You Read About

As soon as I take that last bite of food, immediately my mouth seems to dry up, and all I want are my beverages. And I have to wait 30 minutes for them. For someone who is accustomed to gulping down fluid all day unrestricted, it is torturous. So far it is the hardest part of this journey, except, I guess, for staying under budget with my calories.

I’m going to the gym today. No reason why I shouldn’t. I feel fine, now, and it’s been five days since I developed the symptoms. I already feel like I’ve lost my momentum, but that’s probably because I’ve been sick.

Every time I think of stopping at Dunkin’, I realize there’s nothing there for me, anymore. That’s a good thing.

Although I took my meds, I still feel tired, like I could fall back asleep. I’ve been up for an hour, since quarter of 3.

In fact, my eyes are closing. Maybe just until my drink timer comes on…

Wait a minute. I’m not working. I can go to the gym any time I want. Which means I can go back to sleep if I need to.

First I have some elvish business to attend to.

I don’t know if Aislyn still believes. I think she does, but I think I can also hear skepticism in her voice. She is seven, the age I was when my mother spoiled it for me. So I don’t dare say anything, not yet.

Seven is still little enough to believe in magic and fairytales. Give her another year or two before I tell her the hard truth.

When my mother told me, it broke my heart. I didn’t cry, I put on a brave front. But I was so sad inside that year.

My mother wasn’t being cruel. She thought I knew. She made lots of assumptions like that throughout my young life. Maybe she thought she knew me better than she actually did.

In college, there was this boy at work I had a big crush on. My mother, who mistakenly thought he and I were close friends, went up to him one night and said I talked about him “all the time.” I was so mad at her. Big fight that night.

Needless to say, I never heard the end of it from him: “Hey Leah, tell your Mom I said hi.” “Hey Leah, next time you talk to your Mom about me…” “Hey Leah, how’s Janet?”

I chalk it up as my all time most embarrassing moment. Worse than sitting on my best friend’s Nana’s chocolate cake. Worse than tucking the back of my dress into my tights and JC Crosby seeing my old, bleach-stained underwear.

But I guess, now that it’s been a million years, it was kind of funny. Like something you read about.

Anyway, I like to think I know my kids just as well as I think I do. My gut tells me that Aislyn doesn’t know, and she’s still young enough to believe a little longer. Of course I’m going to let her.

Small Pleasures

I feel a lot better today. No more aches, sore throat, pressure behind the eyes, dizziness. Every so often I cough up some phlegm, but that’s pretty much it.

I find I get emotional when I’m sick, too. There was one afternoon I just huddled up and cried myself to sleep.

You must be tired of hearing about COVID. I’m certainly sick of it, no pun intended.

I had nightmares so bad last night I was afraid to go back to sleep. Armed intruders. So many complicated locks to fasten on doors and windows. Flying through the pitch black night above the trees. Falling into a shark tank?

Think I suffer from anxiety?

I haven’t been taking my Topomax. It helps with nightmares. I just need to get to the pharmacy. Last few days, I’ve hardly been anywhere.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to cut back my calories. All I can come up with is the coffee. But coffee is all I have left. It’s my one, delicious vice. I gave up chocolate, give or take a bite or two. I gave up caffeine. I gave up diet soda. There’s got to be another way!

I know I don’t have to give up coffee. Just limit it. I’m drinking a lot of coffee right now, despite my earlier plan to reduce to two cups a day during the week, three on the weekends. And I realize that three is still a lot.

I would guess I’m drinking 3-5, 8-oz. cups per day. I’m embarrassed to tell you how much creamer that is for me. But at 120 calories a cup, you can see the damage. 600 calories! Yikes!

It’s hard for me to have just one of most anything I like a lot, I guess.

Without coffee, though, all I have is flavored water.

I wonder if I should stop drinking it altogether. I like the taste, and I’m emotionally attached to it, as well. I look forward to sitting with my coffee and blogging in the wee hours. I look forward to getting home from work and settling down with a cup of coffee. Sometimes at night, when I wake up, I have coffee instead of food, now.

Why don’t I just remove all of life’s small pleasures, then? That’s how I see it, and why I haven’t given it up.

But I take small pleasures and exploit the hell out of them, that’s the problem. I don’t need five coffees a day. I don’t need any. I just want them.

But I firmly believe that the coffee is the problem, right now. Why my calories are always high. Why I’m making slower progress than they want.

I guess the question is: can I limit coffee? Or is it better to eliminate it altogether?

It’s 6:00 AM, and I’ve already had two. Can I limit to just three for the whole day?

Because if I really can’t cut back, then the only other thing to do is avoid it completely.

The coffee conundrum. Why do I feel like I’ve written that post before?

WW Wisdom

It’s been a long, long weekend, being sick at home. I haven’t done very much. Of course, you can’t go out shopping this weekend, anyway. The stores are too crowded.

I’ve done most of my shopping on line.

I’m hoping I’ll be well enough to go to the gym tomorrow. I went yesterday, so I’m probably really okay today, too. I just don’t want to spread this.

I do have the elliptibike upstairs.

How is it that it’s 28 degrees outside, I’m in a t-shirt with my hair pulled back and fan blowing in my face, and I am still sweating bullets?

Fever, maybe.

I’m getting excited about the surgery. Is that weird? Surgery seems like an odd thing to be excited about.

But it’s going to make weight loss so much easier for me. I can’t wait for that.

I’ve been tracking my food for 29 consecutive days. Since then, I’ve had three weigh-ins and all have been losses. Even though I go over budget all the time.

I think it’s because when I’m more honest about tracking, I’m less likely to overeat because I dislike seeing the high number of calories on my screen. There is nothing unhelpful about tracking, that’s for sure.

“We are what we do,” was a quote my WW leader shared with us yesterday at the end of the workshop. It resonates with me because now that I’m tracking better, and following the program guidelines more closely, I am seeing not only changes in habits, but a change in my attitude. I’ve gone from “I’ll start tomorrow” to “I’m doing this now.” I forgive mistakes, large and small, because that’s all you can do, and move on.

This is the mindset I’ve been in before when I’ve lost significant amounts of weight. Even if I’m not losing a lot of weight right now, I think mindset is the all-important first step to success.

It all starts with a thought: I can. If you don’t have that, it’s very hard to proceed. Our attitudes, outlooks, and choices all germinate from thoughts.

My former WW leader used to say, “be careful what you’re thinking, because you’re listening.” It’s true. If I err on the side of negativity all the time, I’m bound to have more negative outcomes, because I’m apt to make ill-advised choices, particularly with food.

I am an emotional eater. I need to find other ways to deal with my emotions besides eating. I think I am getting better at it, as evidenced by not gaining weight in the last month.

I don’t have anymore to say right now. I’m having difficulty focusing because the kids are arguing. So, bye for now.