Week One Status: Optomistic

Hit a plateau yesterday, where the fog lifted and I felt normalish.

Today, I encountered an issue with short term memory problems (I couldn't recall the names of the two movies I saw this weekend).

On schedule, I'll be doubling dose tonight.

WITH trepidation.

This Ring Reminded Me of A PolyCystic Ovary (Click it to go to the Etsy shop where I found it):

BMI: What Is It Good For... Absolutely Nothing

Lowest BMI, 1982: 17
Highestet BMI, 2007: 41

Classified as "extremely obese."

The twisted thing here is, my mother, who is easily tipping in at an extra buck (100 lbs) than me, falls into that same classification.

And THAT, THAT! That pisses me off.

Day Three

All I want to do is sleep.

No erratic behavior.

No out of ordinary change in appetite (to my knowledge).

Mild case of dry mouth.

Day 1: Roughly 10 Hours In

Took my first 25 mg dose this a.m. at 2, before I went to bed. About a half hour after taking, I noticed, in the mirror, my pupils doing a weird dilation thing.

Sleep Observations:

Slept soundly. Woke up fitfully. As usual. No out of the ordinary complaints from the husband about my snoring.

Dietary observations:

I cannot tolerate drinking my beloved low sugar cran-grape juice drink. It was totally foul. Putrid even.

However, my life's blood, COFFEE, remains pleasantly neutral on my tongue. No adverse taste problems.

Same thing goes for peanut butter.

Mental State:

Neutral. Pensive, yet not necessarily in an anxious way. Slight problem with typographical errors, but I'm at least aware of it. No difficulties recalling personal or workplace passwords.

Midday Analysis:

Optomistic. So-far-so-good.

Prelude: "Dope"amax

Tonight will be the first dose.

I'm approaching this experiment with great trepidation.

It's All In The Subtext

Redux
Side effects: "Spontaneous lung collapse or death."
Subtext: It's better to be dead than alive and fat.

Xenical/Meridia
Side effects: "Greasy stools, anal leakage."
Subtext: It's better to wear a diaper or shit yourself at work than be fat.

Gastric Bypass*
Side effects: "Dumping, and 10% risk of dying during surgery."
Subtext: It's better to shit yourself or risk dying an early death on a surgical table, than be fat, alive, and die a natural death.
*Believe it or not, I'm not fat enough. One has to be over 300 lbs to be considered a candidate.

Topamax
Side effects: "Dulls the personality, hair loss, et al."
Subtext: It's better to be a medically induced balding moron than be fat.


I went.
I saw.
I've got a starter pack of topamax (against my gut instinct).

I've got migraines.
I need a mood enhancer.
I'm fat.
Hell, by actuarial schedules, I'm obese.
Perhaps "morbidly."
Just for edification and extrapolation, TWENTY POUNDS overweight is the threshold for obesity.
At this point, I don't know what my BMI is.
At this point, I don't care, as it's some abstract thing in my head related to futile, unattainable goal.

Monday is going to be my mental Funday, as I'll be starting my titration schedule.

This may very well be the last cohesive thought I will have for a while.

Today's Email To The Specialist

I have an appointment with a neuro tomorrow to follow up regarding my migraines. Although I doubt if the neuro will do anything other than take an assessment tomorrow, I still require something for my mood. I am managing well with my Lexapro.

Although I do not take it every day, I'm averaging every other day at this point. I believe I don't require a full dose at the low dose. I experienced this a few years ago when I was on Celexa, as well.

My question to you is, how seriously do you think topamax will help me? I have been using the last month or so to give a lot of consideration to this. The bottom line is, I don't want my brain to suffer on topamax the way my colon and my pride did when I was on Xenical.

As it stands, I feel I'm on entirely too much medication, and it's getting tricky for me to space things out to avoid interactions etc. Just as a reminder, I believe I am passing some of my metformin pills out, undigested.

I do not know what to say other than I'm not looking for a miracle pill to make me dump off scads of weight--because I know there is nothing out there to help me. Arrogant? Perhaps. Is it my depression speaking? Perhaps. I can't help but view the whole weight loss thing as an exercise in futility and failure.

Metformin was supposed to help with my weight and it hasn't.
Xenical was supposed to help with my weight and it hasn't.

I just don't know what to say or think at this point. My depression (and joint and back pain) is keeping me from being more active, and my fat is keeping me depressed (among other things).

Received in the In-Box, Re: Xenical/Meridia/Alli

"Miracle": Weight loss drug Alli delivers more than you bargained for (diapers optional)

by: Mike Adams

When people ask, "What can I do to lose weight?" what they're really asking is, "What can I do to lose weight that doesn't require exercise or giving up all the junk foods I eat?" When it comes to weight loss, consumers are looking for a magic bullet -- a miracle pill that eliminates the responsibility of having to actually make adult decisions about their own health. GlaxoSmithKline has delivered the pot-of-weight-loss-gold at the end of the rainbow in the form of an over-the-counter drug called, "Alli."

Alli is bound to be a huge market success. Consumers are rushing to buy the latest fad drug in a desperate attempt to lose weight without having to give up their Krispy Kreme donuts or -- God forbid -- engage in physical exercise that might actually cause them to sweat (there is a great fear of exertion in America today). But while Alli will no doubt be a huge commercial success, it will prove to be an utter weight loss failure. Even in clinical trials, the drug only produced a few pounds of weight loss per year. You could lose more by walking five minutes a day, or drinking half a can of soda less than what you do now. As a serious weight loss aid, Alli falls short. Very short.

Speaking of shorts, Alli has some very entertaining side effects. The drug can cause explosive oily stools to involuntarily eject from your bowels. While that may sound like fun if you're at a frat party, it's certainly not an enjoyable experience when commuting, driving, or hanging out at the office. Dirtying your britches is bound to make the gossip rounds in mere minutes, earning you new nicknames and a repulsive, date-spoiling reputation that will be difficult to overcome. The manufacturer of Alli actually recommends that consumers "carry an extra pair of pants" with them at all times, just in case the side effects kick in. Why not just wear diapers?

Alli takers who brown their britches are the lucky ones, by the way. Imagine what happens when these side effects kick in while you're in the hot tub! Better yet, see the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7JMzDjIkVc (it's called "Hot Tub Mishap").

One mishap like that and you'll literally have to move to a new city and try to make new friends who hopefully haven't seen your video on YouTube. Yep: All it takes is one Alli accident + some creep at the office with a web cam mobile phone, and your ass is all over the internet in a very humiliating way.

If you don't believe me, check out "Karate Guy Craps In His Pants" at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZLq90YeNNg

Just think, this could be YOU!

I find it interesting that this weight loss drug makes adults need to wear diapers. It's quite appropriate, actually, since people who take these weight loss drugs are acting like babies about their own health. Americans just need to grow up and start acting like adults for a change. Put down the ice cream, turn off the TV and go bicycling for goodness sake. No, your mommie isn't around to MAKE you do it, you have to do it all by yourself. (And take those training wheels off the bike while you're at it.) Tie your shoes! Clean up your room! Don't eat the entire box of ice cream! Jeez...

Nutritional deficiencies

The dirty-your-britches side effect isn't the only thing about Alli that makes me wonder what kind of desperate weight loss newbies are going to pop these pills: I'm also concerned about the fact that the drug interferes with the absorption of essential fatty acids. Given that most overweight people are already extremely deficient in omega-3 fatty acids, DHA and other healthy oils, this Alli drug is likely to put them in an even worse state of deficiency.

The drug works by interfering with the digestion of dietary fats, you see. That may sound great if you're eating a diet of fried foods, hydrogenated oils and processed meat products, but even if you block the absorption of those obesity-promoting fats, you're still left in a state of deficiency concerning the healthy oils like omega-3 fatty acids. And if you eat more flaxseed or take fish oil capsules, guess what? Alli will interfere with those, too, causing you to miss out on at least some of their benefits.

What an incredibly genius idea for a drug! Transform adults into diaper-wearing little children, then leave them in a state of nutritional deficiency. Only a drug company could have thought of this one! (And only a desperate, gullible public could actually believe the hype on a drug like this...)

If you're considering taking Alli, you can save yourself the money by following these three simple steps: 1) Sit on the toilet. 2) Do NOT pull your pants down. Leave them on. 3) Go to the bathroom anyway.

Like magic, you will experience the same side effects of Alli, which will gross you out so much that you won't even feel like eating for several hours, which means fewer calories! Repeat this each day and in a year, you'll lose weight! Be sure to stock up on extra undies before attempting this miracle weight loss recipe, because you'll need lots of spare laundry.

Alli is the only weight loss drug I know of that causes you to lose more self respect than body fat. Maybe it should be marketed as a "self image loss" drug instead of a weight loss drug.

Apropos of Something

Haven't and won't weigh myself for a few weeks.
Why ruin the afterglow of a fairly enjoyable vacation?
I mean, even Aunt Flo made it a point to not
darken my doorstep until two days after I returned from sea.

Day 7 of a 9 Day Cruise

I ran low on metformin, thanks to the EFFing insurance company who wouldn't allow me to refill it a few days earlier. So I'm left to titrate down, just so I don't go completely cold turkey without it. Titrate down = from 2500 mg daily (the norm) to 1K mg daily (if that!). The moment we dock in Brooklyn, two days from now, I'll have to call the pharmacy from the boat and see if they'll refill it for me THAT DAY.

Today was the first day I felt like I was slightly spiralling down, mood wise, despite the sunshine and L*xapro. Don't know if it's exhaustion or something emotional/hormonal, but since I have run low of metformin, it's not too much of a stretch to think the mood shift is hormonal.

And thanks to having to titrate down, it'll take a week or two for me to recover from this mishap.

OY!~

I'd Gladly Lance My Own Boil Than...

...Deal with these cramps.

Wish this happened before my visit to the endo.

5 lb Gain

Without fanfare, I went to my specialist. I don't know why I hardly told anyone where I was going... didn't even mention it to my folks when I visited them. The appointment didn't go too hot, or at least from my point of view it wasn't good.

The doctor was alarmed at my response to the query of, "tell me honestly how are you feeling?" I replied, "I'm a big, fat, EFFing failure." He said he didn't want me to talk about myself like that, and I replied, "Why not? It's as authentic of an emotion as any. I could understand gaining weight if I were eating bucked upon bucket of fried chicken, or pizza or bagels or anything else which I'd prefer." Imagine what he'd think of my mood/emotional state if I actually told him, "No, no. Today's a good day. Most days, before my feet hit the floor, I think to myself, "Oh shit, I didn't die in my sleep."

Plan of action: We're going to explor Topamax for my migraines/obesity/depression. I am a bit concerned though, considering it is an Rx also given to epileptics. Needless to say I've got to Google it more thoroughly.

Question: Is this a fair enough trade-off? Possible kidney stones and foggy mental state, rather than having an extra 100 pounds on your frame? Kinda reminds me of the early 1990s when a doctor wanted to put me on Redux. When I read the pamphlets for the drug, some of the side effects included "Spontaneous lung collapse... or death." Quite the message received. Better dead than fat.

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...