First of all I want to say YAY to the FFPers readers who met their goals and WON this first challenge of 2010. You guys are inspiring. I love reading that some of you have gone even FARTHER into healthy territory than the challenged asked us to. Not to be all sappy, but if you mended one habit and/or lost even two pounds of fat, then you won.
And that means I won too. If you tilt your head sideways and squint.
Generally, I’m nothing if not determined. Except that I apparently WASN’T these past ten weeks. While I had some really great reasons for not trying harder:
1. A broken toe.
2. Feet became too ruined to walk around much.
3. Hands became too ruined to handle weights. (Typing has become difficult and painful, And I’m even having trouble playing computer games. A great tragedy. I have four usable typing fingers and only two of those are pain-free.)
4. Chronic pain that MADE ME over-eat towards the end of the challenge. I’m completely faultless in this matter. Please pass the bacon.
Those are excellent reasons but I think that if I’d really MEANT to win, I would have won. One can be paralyzed from the neck down and still lose weight through better food choices, yet I did not. I own my unshed pounds.
I kept saying to myself “I’ll do better when I’m feeling better.” But that day didn’t come. And what if that day NEVER comes? It didn’t the whole time I was taking Humira. I still have to do something to protect my health and future, right? Stelara might not work, either, GOD FORBID.
So aside from eating leaves every day because I like them a lot, I’ve also been denying myself what I DESPERATELY NEED to feel better about all of this discomfort, what I crave every second of every day, and what I CANNOT eat as my blood sugar would rise to unhealthy levels. Namely, cookies, cakes and candies. There was a small incident with Girl Scout cookies (FAMILY, DO NOT BRING THEM HOME) but other than that, I’m doing well.
But the result of just saying no to myself while I am miserable is this: I HATE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING. I am on a knife tip of rage almost every second of every day while full of self-loathing due to my lack of significant weight loss. I am convinced that the entire world wants me to be fat, particularly the Girl Scouts of Amercia. Those sirens and their fancy THIN MINTS that pave the way to hell.
Getting in the car the past couple of days has been especially challenging given that I’m eschewing profanity for Lent. I am currently one additional inconsiderate driver from an aneurysm. By the way, in the middle of writing this I got up to get some tea and found that some DOUCHEBAG apparently drank the last of it last night and now I have to MAKE MORE with BLEEDING FINGERS OF WOE.
Yeah, I was that douchebag. Shut up. I just like drinking vinegar and water, ALL RIGHT?
Everything in my life is wildly out of control and needs cleaning and ordering. For the March challenge I’m going to have to impose upon my husband and younger child for assistance. It still counts toward my own achievements, as I’ll be the field marshall and they’ll be the grunts following orders.
(A few minutes ago I showed the same daughter my shredded fingers to prove that she would have to help, and she suggested that I use a paper and pen she provided to draw cathartic pictures of angry monsters. I am surrounded by smarty-pantses. ALSO, did you know that if you google “I hate everyone and everything” you get about eight hundred billion hits? Do you ever just google odd phrases to see what will come up?)
Despite being a Big Hot Mess, I have dreams of great success. Not pie-in-the sky dreams, but FOR REALS plans that include a specific walking schedule, a lifting plan, menus, and, of COURSE, new pink running shoes. I’ve been building a new play list for my ipod and think I may have to get more Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer. I used to wear Estee Lauder Eminance but I got a free sample of the LM from Sephora and really liked it. Yes, I wear makeup while running. Stop judging me. It has an SPF of TWENTY, thank you. As does the lip gloss. That’s all I wear, I swear. Anyway, this kind of talk makes me very happy and excited about hitting the road. And eating more leaves.
I KNOW I can do this, I lost fifty pounds last year before I had to go off of Raptiva, caught pneumonia, and started this psoriasis flare. I refuse to accept disability or illness as my new “normal.”
My Stelara arrived at the doctor’s office late today, Esther, the nurse, called me and told me to hie myself into the office FIRST THING in Wednesday morning (I’m typing this this on Tuesday night.) I love her. SHOUT OUT TO ESTHER AND DR. PASLIN AND TALISHA AND EVERYONE!
Some injectees say that they don’t feel too great the day after, but I don’t care in the least. I just want it to work. And I want to win at everything.