Meh...

Blood drawn today.
Flo's late.
Specialist's appointment on the 14th (five days from now).
Feeling mediocre, health-wise. Status quo. No harm, no fowl.

Meh.

One More Week Til The Specialist

Groggy.
On the agenda: Plenty of dumping to artificially decrease my weight for my weigh-in.
Attitude/Mood: EFF U.

The Grass is Always Greener...

Click to go to the article devoted to this.

Milk

Isn't it amazing that something as simple and nuturing as a pint of milk can elicit guilt from me?

Sure my breakfast of sausage, egg and cheese on a poppy seed roll isn't the "healthiest" thing to consume, but it certainly is the most portable and convenient to eat at one's desk in a rush. But to drink a pint of milk with it... THAT is what made me feel guilty.

Two years of Atkins and being completely off drinking milk, has left me with a taboo feeling when I drink the occasional 8 oz, or in today's instance, a pint, of milk.

I'm of a primal mindset. If my body craves something, I'm assuming it knows better than my brain, what it needs. Vitamin A, D, calcium... the sense of well-being milk gives me... in a somewhat drowsy way.

I need sunshine!

Pictures "Before and After The Accident"

Neither of my two weddings could compare to my junior prom pic, May 1985.
That day, I felt truly beautiful, despite being a full-on anorexic and bulemic.
Say what you will about anorexia, it does make one a bit more "camera friendly."
So does having such yummy "arm candy" like I did that day.
Believe it or not, we were BOTH each other's "back up" date for the prom,
as both of our dates bailed on us at the last moment.

And here is my senior portrait for the yearbook.
What lies out of sight are my white cotton running shorts and bare feet,
as this picture was snapped while a friend and I were headed to do some
canoeing on Beaver Dam Creek.
I remember what I ate that day, as well.
Doritos with a grapefruit juice chaser.
I don't recommend that menu if you plan on canoeing on choppy water.

And here is what I refer to as the "After the Accident" picture, after
seeing such lovely pics, the ONLY surviving pictures of
my teen years.
This is the picture which serves as an epilogue to the other two pictures
featuring me as a healthy LOOKING anorexic and bulemic.

I can't help but think folks think of that joke:
"I am still a bulemic, I just am too lazy to puke anymore."
Only the joke isn't effective, as I never was one to binge,
then, or now.
Yet, here I am... weighing in at twice what I weighed
in those first two pictures.
And if need be, I can still vomit at will.

Remind me again, how or why I should NOT feel like a failure?

Even chubby, middle-aged gals have vanity and pride.

Photo from Leonard Nimoy's "Full Body Project."
Click picture to go to Nimoy's photographic webpage.

Still Depressed. Still Fat. Barely Functioning.

So if you read all of my blogs, you'd know I posted about receiving this DVD in the mail the other day over at my yoga blog, Chakra Blah Blah. Still have yet to break the cellowrap on it. I also ended up getting The Fiber 35 Diet book, too. Same thing. Haven't cracked the binding. What's the point? None of it's going to work.

Had a fight with the husband today about getting "in shape" for our cruise in June. I was fat when he met me. I was fat when he married me. I had no idea when I promised him before we got married that I'd adhere to a set weight loss goal, that I would be so challenged in getting my weight off. It seems so impossible. Some days I just sit at my desk at work and sob. Some nights when we are out to dinner, I have to excuse myself to go to the rest room to sob.

I don't know if it registers with him.

He claims he loves me.

I wish he'd just kill me. And no, he's not a physically abusive man. Every gray hair on my head were put there with each put down, with each argument we've had, with each tear he's made me shed.

I don't think he realizes how much I think simply not existing would be a fine substitute for what I am doing right now. I think he might view everything herein (assuming he snoops, which is a crapshoot at this point) as me crying wolf.

L*xapro only goes so far. I wish I were truly dead inside. I wish I were already zombi-fied. I wish none of this mattered to me anymore. I wish the tears did not come anymore. I wish I could make my peace with this.

I'm wondering how much of this emotional disturbance is due to the PCOS, or if I have something actually chemically wrong with me, or is my husband TRULY THAT disgusted with me.

I live every day of my life knowing how embarrassed he must be by being married to me. He claims he isn't... but I live every day of my life knowing what a fucking disappointment I am.

Normal people, they wake up refreshed, thankful for a new day to be experienced.

I wake up and my first thought before my feet hit the floor is, "Oh shit... I didn't die in my sleep."

I broke a promise.
So did he, he claimed to love me, honor me, cherish me...
The only time he truly acknowledges my presence is to use me like his own personal glory hole or to berate me about my fatness.

250+ Pounds isn't "Oh She'll Need a Piano Case for a Casket Fat." Yet somehow...that thought, that feeling is bubbling beneath the surface.

I am the one living with this extra weight on my frame. I am the one who worries about what kind of life will I have when I am older, because I see the writing on the wall. I see how my mother is, struggling not only with her weight, but also with the secondary problems of her obesity, primarily her Type II diabetes and her cellulitis (on top of her lymphedema and rheumatoid arthritis, et al).

Every day it's a struggle for me. I'm not a glutton, despite what my husband and others might think when they look at me. Had I known five nearly six years ago the level of disdain my husband would have towards me due to what he views as me breaking my promise to him, I doubt if I would have married him.

There I said it.

And couple all of this up with the fact that over 30+ years of my life, I had been trying to survive the swirling vortex of dysfunction that is my family and my own depression... then the disharmony in my workplace... struggling with my feelings of invisibility and suicidal fantasies... knowing that my home and my husband are NOT my sanctuary, what IS the point in living?

I don't do a damned thing about it because I am a coward, or I might just be as lazy as the husband claims I am.

I have stockpiled enough of my blood pressure medication... however, I don't know how much would be sufficient to do the job... assuming I weren't such a whimp about it. With my luck, I'd take enough to make me a vegetable, but not OFF myself completely. Just what I would want, right? To spend the rest of my life in a state hospital, drooling on myself as I sit in a shitty diaper with bedsores the likes of which you can ram your fist into.

Actually, I think there you have it. The REAL reason why I don't off myself, being in a "permanent vegetative state."

Not cowardice.
Not laziness.
Not fear of eternal damnation.

**Update, 10:09 p.m.**

Barely speaking to him.
Showered.
Went to Barnes & Noble to buy one of those Bunny Suicide books.
Self-medicate at the Chinese buffet.
Came home in time to see the Sopranos' season opener...

3/19/07

Menopause hasn’t even hit me, yet.
I’m 38; hopefully I’ve got a few more years
perhaps a decade or so more before I
morph into a different phase of my life.

Yet, somehow I feel obsolete already.
Invisibility is the best way to express
how I feel and how I think the world
perceives me.

Useless.
Obsolete.
Invisible.
Burdensome.

I spent the first 15 years of my life
adapting and conforming, to survive
my family environ. Be someone
other than who I am, just to fit in,
just to be noticed; and in doing so
my fleeting childhood and teen years
disappeared.

I spent the next 15 years of my life
floundering while trying to remain
attractive or magnetic for men. Men,
who in turn used me for their own gains.
Me, a need, to someone else’s end.

Impoverishing my bankbook and my soul.

Useless.
Empty.

The next 15 years should be, or should
have been years nurturing a child, my
child, and in doing so, repair my inner
child, and re-experience childhood,
experience things I should have
experienced in the first place.

Instead I am in a no woman’s land
Fertile? Infertile?
Menopause? Perimenopause?
Useful vs useless.

On the precipice of invisibility and oblivion.

And no one gives a shit about it, but me.

I can’t wait for the day when I just
surrender, when I just don’t care anymore,
because honestly, this struggle,
this fight, these demons
are the only things I truly own.

Alabama Vibrating Veggie Tales

On Being Criminally Fat

Inspiration for this post (which also was posted as a comment elsewhere): Obese child deemed victim of neglect.

Obesity = neglect = crime?

Let's bust up a loving family because their only crime is that their child/ren is/are fat.

Question: Why are more people not up in arms about the implications of this?

Genetics (MY Vast-Sweeping Over-simplification):

Face it. Some kids are (either knowingly or unknowingly) genetically prone to getting fat. Yes, skinny parents can have a fat child. Recessive genes anyone? Yes, fatness, just like blue eyes, are recessive, inheritable traits.

The Fat Man's Economics--The Cliff Notes version:

Let's take a look at the economics of it. Some folks who subsist primarily of fatty cuts of meat or carb laden foods because it's inexpensive, and they cannot afford healthier foods. (Freshman 15... Top Ramen... anyone?

I know from first hand experience what "government subsidized foods" are like. Gubm'nt cheese anyone? [ED: Oh and by the by, "da cheeze" is greasy, fatty and binding, and decidedly NOT health conscious!]

It's not a stretch to suggest that the same parents who could not afford leaner cuts of meat, or scads of fresh fruits or veggies, cannot afford gastric bypass surgeries for their kids. Hell, this article about a little boy who died because of a toothache/abcess and his family couldn't afford proper medical care is another indication of what's wrong with our society.

Add to the genetics, the economics and the environmental, you've got a health crisis on your hands.

Obesity---------->= crime?

As laughable or inconceivable as it may seem, Child Protective Services taking away children who are obese due to some perceived notion of neglect (let's face it, children can be willfull as all get out, despite the very best intentions of their parents), I don't like the message it's sending.

What about our Fourth Amendment to Privacy in our homes?

Ever see this "surveillance campaign" over at ACLU, where it uses the premise of ordering a pizza? It's only a matter of time before obese people are taxed or otherwise penalized* for their girth, and I am not implying merely higher medical insurance premiums, either.

*See Eugenics

The Fat Man's Future: MY Hypothesis

How is governmental interference and intervention on behalf of obese children not Eugenics? From that link on Wiki:

[...]Historically, eugenics has been used as a justification for coercive state-sponsored discrimination and human rights violations, such as forced sterilization of persons with genetic defects, the killing of the institutionalized and, in some cases, genocide of races perceived as inferior[...]

NOW! WITH MORE HYPERBOLE!:

What is next? Rounding up all the fatties, Stepfordizing the rest, and relaunch "New! And Improved! Soylent Green! NOW WITH HALF THE CARBS!

"IF"

Mental Health Day

Has anyone ever "Called In Depressed?" If I had balls, that is what I would have done instead of copping out and saying, "I feel dizzy."

Email Exchange With Sis

From Sis:

HEY HOW ARE YOU

I AM NOW WORRYING ABOUT YOU

I THINK YOU NEED TO EVAL ALL THOSE FINDINGS WITH YOUR PRIMARY, IREALLY THINK HE MAY BE OVERDOING IT. HE SEEMS TO BE TREATING THE SIDE EFFECT OF ONE MEDICATION WITH ANOTHER MEDICATION.

I JUST AM SO TIRED WHEN I GET HOME I CANT EVEN CALL, I REALLY MEAN TO I LAY DOWN WITH BABYGIRL AND AM SOUND ASLEEP EVEN BEFORE SHE IS NEXT THING I KNOW IT IS LIKE 4AM.

I MISS YOU AND SO DOES BABYGIRL, THE LETTER OF THE WEEK IS S SO SHE SAYS "LIKE AUNT S." I AM STILL RECOVERING FROM THE HERNIA SURGERY. I AM SO AFRAID TO DO CERTAIN THINGS, I NEVER WANT TO HAVE ANY TYPE OF SURGERY LIKE THAT AGAIN

WORK IS WORK, NOTHING NEW WITH THAT. NOTHIN NEW WITH [HUBBY]

ARE YOU COMING DOWN FOR EASTER PLEEEEEASSSSEEEEEE!!!!! I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE AN EASTER EGG HUNT, AND YOU CAN HELP BABYGIRL AND I MAKE A BUNNY CAKE..........

I HOPE YOU AND [HUBBY]

ARE DOING OK, I AM FAT AND OLD AND SLIGHTLY DEPRESSED

SO HOW IS YOUR DAY GOING?

SIS

From Me:

Why worry? The eczema hasn't changed, and I go for regular mammos, and nothing turns up with them, other than our lumpy boobs we inherited from mom. No change, no discharge, just an insane itch at times.

If you're fat and old... what does that make ME? I'm soooo relating to what you're going through. And the depressed, shit... I feel like a failure most of the time, and the rest of the time I feel like a loser who just wants to be loved and no one knows how to love me.

IS THIS WHAT MID-LIFE IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE? [I'm 38, She's 37]

I'm hoping that once I go thru a sleep study to address the snoring and what I suspect is apnea, and once I get myself properly oxygenated while I sleep, and hopefully start to get some restorative sleep... maybe I'll start feeling better.

I thought once [HUBBY'S] his parents went back home, I'd start to feel a bit back to normal, or at least "normal for me," and to be honest, I have no energy for anything. If I miss my Lexapro by a day or two, I start the crying jags all over again.

I am sure the bitter cold weather is not helping matters.

My specialist talked with me about how I'm feeling and especially the feelings of depression and failure... and he told me not to be so hard on myself. That PCOS brings a lot of emotional baggage, and for me not to be so hard on myself about not losing weight... it's an uphill battle.

I can intellectualize what he said, but still, I just want to spend my time curled up in a ball.

[HUBBY] doesn't really help matters either.

I know he loves me. (Why ELSE would he be with me?) Yet...

I know he's incapable of loving me how I need to be loved. If I think about this too long, I'll just start to cry at my desk here. I love him. He loves me. But ... there should just be "so much more." My life is really lacking. And I just wish there were a way for me to figure out what it is I'm supposed to be doing. I wish I could just gain some control of this.

As far as the overdoing it with medications... I'm really not on that many meds. I'm on my metformin (2500 daily), my quinaretic in the a.m., my quinapril in the p.m., and my lexapro. So he's changing me from the regular meformin to the XR, and adding something for the triglycerides because of his concerns of my fatty liver syndrome.

I know next time I see him, he's no doubt going to send me to a renal guy [due to elevated uric acid level], and perhaps back to Mt. Sinai for another abdominal ultrasound with their liver & pancreas specialist. I'm fairly confident I am going to the right guy for what ails me. And somehow... getting pregnant isn't that big of a motivator for me.

I can't seem to get motivated to lose the weight. I'm at a standstill. And honestly, I just don't have it in me to try the next great thing to see what works.

I just feel blah. Unloved. Lonely.

I better quit typing about it... or else I'll start sounding like dad...

Regarding Easter... I should be down. [HUBBY], eh... well you know him. It was a big deal for him to come down for the xmas party. And I won't force him. I just wish that one day he'd wake up and realize that his attendance isn't for others.... it's for me. I didn't get married to do things alone, and damnit if that's what I'm doing... being alone.

And I have just about shut down at home. All I want to do is sleep. I feel neglected in general, after almost six years of marriage I feel like I'm married to a stranger who doesn't know me, and I know he feels neglected by me.

And somehow I gotta keep everything afloat by myself... mercifully I don't have to worry about keeping things afloat financially... but still...

there's got to be so much more to this... isn't there?

Somehow I Have To Crap Out 10-15 Lbs, I Just Know It

Monday I go back to the specialist.

Been struggling with my depression and motivational issues.

Haven't been on any type of "diet."

Been laxe at times about my evening medications (regret this in the a.m., with the pounding headaches).

Don't know if it's the depression/blues talking, but I wonder if my lack of motivation, actual RESENTMENT about the notion of diet and exercise, is an indication that I simply do not have THAT strong of a drive to become pregnant. I'm very l'aissez-faire about it. "If it happens, it happens." What a cop out I've been feeding myself, no?

I need to schedule a sleep study. I hope getting what I suspect is apnea, diagnosed and treated (with CPAP), hopefully will help.

It's hard to be motivated to do ANYTHING. Bathe. Get dressed. Get out and do SOMETHING. When you do not wake up refreshed and renewed in the morning.

Fortunately, I have a job, and that's the excuse I convinced myself of, that is the impetus for me to get up, bathe, dress myself, and get out and do SOMETHING, to interact with others (even on a minimal level). The weekends however, are a crap shoot.

I am my own worst enemy.
Days like this, I feel like such a loser.
Doesn't matter what else I've accomplished prior to today. I feel like such a loser.

Post-Coital Tears

Dialogue:

Me: Did you remove your condom towards the end?
Him: Yes.

~Silence~

Me: Yanno in 23 years of my fucking career, I worried endlessly about getting pregnant...

~More silence~

*Tears*

Me: ... imagine that. Worrying endlessly for 23 years, for it all to be moot.

Sidenote: Time to take my happy pills...

Reprieve

Appt with specialist postponed from 1/15 to 2/19 (I think!). Washington's birthday, whenever that lands...

Fat Food... I MEAN Fast Food Nation

Fat Farms

12/18 Crotch-a-cologist Appt

Total poundage lost: 3
BP: 110/80 (I'd be happier if the 80 were 70)

Apparently, I've got a sourdough starter in my squishmitten.

Discussed babymaking.

AGAIN.

Discussed changing blood pressure medication to N*rvasc rather than Ald*met, and discussed that once/if I get knocked up, I have to go on blood thinners, to prevent miscarriage, due to my FVLM.

After having the in-laws in my home, as "adult children" as it were, and being frustrated with that, I'm beginning to wonder if having a child is really the best thing for me, OR the child.

Next Visit With Specialist, 1/15

Next visit: 1/15
Next time I'll be available to get my bloods done: 12/26

Perhaps it's cutting it close?

Honestly, I don't care anymore.

Mood: Ranging from ambivalent to belligerent.