My Weekend War

My stumbling and crazy journey through weight loss, work, love and life

I am stalled at 47lbs lost. People who see me a lot ask if I’m still losing but I haven’t lost anything in about a month or so. That’s not quite to my halfway point and I am getting frustrated. I can’t say that I’m following my plan perfectly or even that it’s not my fault. I’m a cheater. Sometimes it’s something small like a cookie at an open house and sometimes it’s a tad bit bigger like the Golden Corral buffet. All of it. That dessert bar should be illegal. In all seriousness, if cigarettes come with a warning label chocolate pie should too. I know I shouldn’t but I’m a weekender. When Friday comes I’m hungry. Not just hungry, I’m like a zombie…one track mind. Only in my case it isn’t brains I need, it’s fattening food. Strangest thing ever. I think I have an addictive personality. I’ve never been an alcoholic or a drug addict. Well there was a time when some Chinese herb diet pills were my jam. My hand to God I could feel my hair grow and see sounds when I took them. Finally realizing that I shouldn’t need to have the energy of a squirrel on crack, I put them down and never looked back. I’ve been addicted to songs, sports, people, activities, routine and so on. Here’s a good one, I’ve been addicted to make up before. Not wearing it all at once, Tammy Faye Baker style, but owning it. Again, all of it. I wore nearly the same look every day too so that meant I had 35 of the same shade of brown eye shadow in a basket on my bathroom. I owned the same amount of brown eyeliners, nude lip pencils and every shade of nude and pink lipstick you could imagine. They were close to duplicates, but I had them. AHHHHHH my basket of beauty. Good times. But throughout my life my most pure addiction has been food. Sweet, sweet food. I use the denial of it as a punishment on myself for things going wrong and a reward for things going right. I crave sweet, salty…you name it. In my quest to find what won’t make me want to eat so much I believe I’ve found it. Thanks to my friend Kerie, I’m doing kick boxing 2 times a week and a strength class 2 times a week. It’s fun but punishing. The days of looking forward to basketball practice even though I knew there was a chance of running suicides until I puked are long over. I’m starting at level zero. My push ups are against the wall. I can’t do them on the floor yet because my arms have the strength of boneless hams. My burpees are so hideous, I pity the person behind me. Sit ups….ugh. They are hilarious. I have to try not to laugh at myself. I’m there though and fighting through. I am my own thunderstorm and I rain sweat while I’m there, but I’m present. Read more…