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24 August 2017

Weigh-in: 244.4 lb lost so far: 5.6 lb still to go: 94.4 lb Diet followed reasonably well
   (1 comment) losing 8.4 lb a week

23 August 2017

23 August 2017

Weigh-in: 245.6 lb lost so far: 4.4 lb still to go: 95.6 lb Diet followed reasonably well
   (1 comment) losing 7.7 lb a week

21 August 2017

Bleargh. I feel like a troll. Too sick and fat and ugly to be safe interacting with regular people, so I sit here in my basement lair and amass piles of garbage and rot around me to hide the treasure, plotting the downfall of my enemies. I'm hoping a goat or two wanders by this week, or maybe a party of adventurers. I'm getting a bit peckish.

Okay, so maybe it isn't quite that bad, but I know I am letting my physical condition isolate me more than is healthy. It's just so much work to get out of the house. And most of my interactions with the general public involve them trying to "help", and causing me more pain. It's really hard to take someone yelling at you about how ungrateful you are that they ignored what you were telling them and that resulted in about the same amount of pain as a solid punch to the gut. But it happens repeatedly every time I try going out. So I don't go out.

I obviously need to reassess. I had been thinking that using the walker to skip the pain meds was the healthier course. But if it's having this profound an effect on my entire life I don't think the tradeoff is worth it any more.

Instead of going out every day, like I used to, it's once or twice a week at most. Which means instead of eating fresh veg from the grocery store every day, I'm eating delivery.

I'm angry all the time. I just wish people would leave me alone when I'm out, or at least ask if I need help, instead of grabbing me or my walker, so I cultivate an unapproachable, foreboding air around me. But that just makes me feel the emotions I'm trying to project. I used to be so happy.

I feel so alone. My friends don't invite me out to things that are up or down a flight of stairs any more, which is almost everything in this city. I haven't been going out to events that I know will be in smallish spaces, because I won't have room to maneuver. And even when I did get invitations that cleared those hurdles, about half the time I just didn't have the emotional resources to tell the story of "What's wrong with you?" fifteen more times. So I'd just say no. And now I don't get invited out any more. And I don't bother inviting my friends out either, I don't want to impose my restrictions on them.

This has to stop.

Yes, the pills have side effects. Yes, the pain will have limits of it's own. None could possibly be as bad as what I just described. The walker seems to have taken away most of what makes life worth living, the chance to connect with people, to meet and laugh and talk, to say "this thought is in my head, is it in your head, too?" I am starving for interaction with other humans, and all I've been eating is TV and books, empty calories that leave me bloated and malnourished.

So out I go. Wish me luck.




P.S. If you see someone with a disability you think might need your help, please remember the phrase "ASK FIRST, OR YOU AREN'T HELPING" before you do something to them. And if you aren't willing to take a "no, thank you" as an answer, consider the fact that you may have been acting a little more selfishly than altruistically. This advice could have fixed literally every single one of the situations that make me not want to leave the house with my walker.

19 August 2017

Here I am again.

I was doing really well. Not at my goal weight, but not far off and maintaining nicely. Then, in January, I got walloped. Spent two weeks in the hospital barely able to sit up for major abdominal pain. I haven't been moving much since, and need a walker for the movement I am capable of. Also put on two hormonal medications that cause "a buildup of fat deposits" in their side effects (both of them). And finally, not being able to stand up to cook for myself led to a stunning amount of delivery pizza.

So at least one out of every three pounds I'm lugging has arrived in the last 7 months, and they've worn out their welcome. I'm going to have to be kind to myself on days that involve too much pain to eat perfectly, but at least I can eat better. I can order in a chicken ceasar salad, instead of pizza, or a shwarma platter with tabboule replacing the potatoes instead of poutine and fried chicken.

My surgery is in February. I want to be 200 lbs by then, and have the habits in place so I don't regain too much in the recovery afterwards. Then I want to get back to my goal weight and stay there, like I know I can do. Like I've done before.

Being 37 and needing a walker is one thing. It's another to have people think it's just for the weight. That might be vanity, but I'll take what scraps of pride I have left where I can find them.
Weigh-in: 250.0 lb lost so far: 0 lb still to go: 100.0 lb Diet followed N/A
   (9 comments) steady weight

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