My Prayer Tuesday, Mar 30 2010 

Dear God,

You know I’m mad at You.  Have been for 10 years.  But I still love You.  We have talked about this a thousand times, so I won’t go on about it.  But please do something about it soon.

I love therapy.  It is the most wonderful thing in the world to converse with someone who understands me.

You know how tactile I am.

You did good sending me Irene.  Thank You for that.

She is the most wonderful therapist.  She gets my neuroses.  She understands why I need to be obsessed with people who hate me, why I can eat 3 bags of fast food in one sitting and then starve for 3 days, and why I start 100 projects at once that never get finished.  She just smiles when I talk about the addictions, the meaningless relationships, and the closet binge-eating.  She nods her head when I say I don’t eat because I’m hungry.  Every part of her being seems to just understand and accept the fact that I really am a nut job.

This is something I know You’ve always understood.

When I talk to Irene, it is much like talking to You.  Just peace and acceptance.  No judgement.  I appreciate the words of guidance You give me through her.  I can tell her anything, and it’s like she already knew what I was going to say.  I can’t explain why, but this makes me feel waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay less nuts.  I mean, don’t get me wrong.  I know I’m a hot mess.  But it’s been so good talking with someone who understands my innate need for all eyes to be on me.  And that I focus my energy on the eyes not looking at me.  She gets that if I want someone to like me who is aloof about me in general, I make it my mission to win them over.  She knows how I thrive on the challenge of making a man fall in love with me.  And that the ones who resist, are the ones I want the most.

I don’t want to be like this anymore.  I want to change.  I am tired of the drama, the tears, the punishment, and the guilt.  I am begging You, please give me the strength to change.  I can’t survive like this.  I am tired of being this highly toxic person who attracts negative, unhealthy people.  I want to change my heart, my attitude, and the way I deal with loneliness, pain and frustration.  I realize this may take months, even years of behavior therapy, but I’m willing to do that and more, if that’s what it takes.

Lord haste the day that I am free of the demons that cause me to shield myself with fat.  Free me from this prison so I can have a healthy relationship with a man I deeply love.

Amen.

Ouch Saturday, Feb 27 2010 

Lately I have been looking at my relationships.

My children.

My sister.

My parents.

My friends.

My men.

And my food.

Food?! 

Yes, food.

Yes.  It is a love/hate relationship.  But this is the relationship I have with food.  But here is what hurts:  My real relationships are love/hate as well.

What an ugly and painful truth.

This was actually brought to my attention by a male suitor around Christmastime.  We spent some time getting to know each other, and right when things could have gotten serious, I wanted out.  So I started causing problems to drive him away.  But he wouldn’t be driven away.  So I just told him to go.  Which he did.  But before he did, he said “I think you love making men fall in love with you, just to tell them to f$%@ off.”  I was appalled.  Amused.  Mildly annoyed.  I told him he was nuts, and moved on.

But here’s the thing.  He wasn’t nuts.  He was right.

I love to be loved.  When I feel love from an outside source, I treat myself well.  You can see that through every gain/loss pattern in my life.  If you see me losing weight, sparkling, and glowing like a firefly, I promise you that someone in my life is showing me love.  That can range from a strong camaraderie with a friend, to finally feeling a connection with my son, to receiving the attention of a man worth having.  On the contrary, if you see me listless, grey, and bulking up like a sumo wrestler, then I feel unloved.  It is actually sickens me how important it is to me to feel loved.  But once I feel loved, I start having this horrible resentment toward the person who loves me.  And I start to get mean and closed off.

The odd part of this equation, as if that weren’t odd enough, is that when I feel unloved, I “love” myself with food.  Food can be a fabulous high.  There’s a certain rush I get from eating piping hot, well made food, in enormous amounts, late at night, in complete secret.  It’s like a one night stand.  It feels glorious and I’m so caught up in it at the time.  But then I wake up the next morning next to empty wrappers, and I want to shoot myself.  The end irony in all of this, is that the food relationship is creating this shell around me that is making it impossible for anyone to actually get in and love me for real.  I hide in here.  And I know it.  The question is, what the hell am I so afraid of?

There was a comment on my blog yesterday from a reader who also binges.  She has a sister who is bulemic.  They went to the store together to buy “binge fare.”  My reader wanted the tray of 6 large and expensive cookies, while her sister wanted the 10 pound bag of animal crackers.  Later at home her sister wanted one of the nice, pricey cookies.  But my reader told her that if she ate it, she couldn’t purge because it deserved to be digested.

Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally?

This struck such a cord with me.  The difference between binge eaters and bulemics.  Please feel free to disagree, because obviously I’ve never had Bulemia.  But Bingers use their food as love.  Bulemics use their food as punishment.  As a Binger I would much rather have 6 big delicious cookies, than a huge bag of bland crackers.  Because it is the actual food I am feeling.  The bulemic doesn’t feel love from the food, but is satisfied through stuffing, feeling filled up for a short time, but then letting it all go before there are consequences.  Ie: digestion and getting fat.

The bottom line is that I am “loving” myself with food, instead of fully experiencing real relationships.  And God Almighty, that has to stop.

It hurts me to read this.  It hurts me to say that I love my children, but resent them for loving me.  It hurts me to say that I love my mom, but resent her for not being harder on me when I was young.  It hurts me to say that I fall in love with men who don’t reciprocate, but then I turn into a cornered raccoon when they do.  It hurts me to say that I can easily eat 10,000 calories in one sitting in secret, feel the greatest high in that moment, and then completely hate and loathe myself the next day for indulging .

Threadbare and naked here, I know what the solution is.   To break the cycle of this unhealthy relationship with food, I need to always feel loved.

But the person I need to feel that love from is myself.

Clueless and the Teepee Thursday, Feb 25 2010 

I have a very vivid memory of a cartoon I saw as a child.  I looked for it this morning on the internet.

All I can say is I wish I had the last hour of my life back.

In the cartoon, a man sees a beautiful Native American woman poking her head out of a teepee.   He is taken by her beauty, until she steps out of the tent and reveals her humongous, fat body.  He runs away screaming.

I don’t even want to talk about the images I just saw on You Tube, Hulu, and the like.  It is amazing to me how oblivious people can be to the hurts of others.  For some reason, as human beings, we have the need to humorize painful situations to make them palatable.  I am here to say there is nothing humorous or palatable about being 100 pounds (or more) overweight.  For most of us, it is a daily, self-loathing and self-depricating battle that ends only when we’re laying passed out in a carb coma amongst empty bags of progressive fast food eating and empty cartons of ice cream.  We are binge eaters, locked in a world of self-inflicted fat jail.

Aint a damn thing funny about that.

Yesterday at work, I was sitting at the computer charting some patient vitals, when this man walked up to the desk and asked for directions to the cafeteria.  I told him if he’d wait a few seconds, I’d finish my charting and walk him there.  He thanked me and smiled, and flirtaciously asked if I escort every clueless man to the cafe.

Of course my first thought was……hmmmm, that’s redundancy at it’s best.

But I didn’t say that.

He was goofy.  Overly confident.  And honestly, the last man I would have ever been interested in.  I was kind, but not overly so.  And made as little eye contact as possible.

I finished my work, and stood to escort my new friend to his destination.

Only something changed from when I was sitting, to when I stood.  He wasn’t my “friend” anymore.  There wasn’t the same friendliness.  Or flirtaciousness.  Or familiar and weird long gazes.  And it hit me.

Ohhhhhhh, I am the woman in the teepee.

I learned two things about myself last night.

  • #1 is that though I use this fat suit as protection, I am still hurt when a man reacts that way to me.  I have never been attracted to obese men, yet I get upset when men aren’t attracted to me?  What’s that about?
  • And #2…all of the sudden, when his reaction changed, I became very animated.  Overly expressive.  Flirtacious.  In short….overcompensating.  And trying to win over a man in whom I had zero interest.

Not my proudest moment.

I know, I know.  I’m calling my therapist.

Poisoned by Fairytales Monday, Jan 18 2010 

Boy.  This detox has stirred up some serious crapola.  Headaches.  Shakes.  Zits.  Sweats.  Now strep throat?

Good grief.

I spent the weekend curled up in the chair, sipping antibiotics, and watching movies.  It has been a while since I just got to sit down and watch a good grown-up movie.  So I stocked up.  I also picked up some tomato soup, raspberry sorbet, and more green tea.  Put on my fleece jammies, memory-foam slippers, pinned my hair on top of my head, and sacked out in the double-stuf with a super-soft wubby.

Strange way to spend my gargantuan-tonsilled vacation from work and kids, but hey, it worked.  I am feeling a bit better.

And that is due, at least in part, to the movie The Holiday.  It is a total chick flick, but I now want to travel to London, befriend an elderly man, and marry Jude Law.

So as I’m watching this movie for like the third time this weekend, I start listening to this insane monologue going on in my head.

“Your house is never tidy like that.  This place is a dump.”

“You’ve never been loved like that, and never will.”

“Only women who look like Cameron Diaz know that kind of happiness.”

Damn girl, with schizophrenic friends like these, who needs enemies?

I turned the movie off.  I stood up, walked into the bathroom and washed my face.  Took my hair down, shook out the curls, and let it hang.  I rubbed cocoa butter all over my face.  And then I stood and stared at myself for several minutes.  Then I saw something that made my day.

My smile.

And I said to my reflection, “That movie was a fairytale, not reality.  This house is a sanctuary, you are loved like that and more every single day, and Cameron Diaz herself has never seen one moment of hair like that, girl.  You are blessed, treasured, and beautiful.”

I’m learning.

Lesson Learned Sunday, Dec 13 2009 

I have been writing this blog now for close to a year.

The past couple of days I have been looking back at my blog entries from the past year.  I am currently 20 pounds below my weight last December.  Now I can sit here and beat myself down, if I choose.  Or I can be thankful that it’s 20 pounds lost, not gained, and focus this year on doubling that loss.

I have learned more about myself this year than I thought possible.  I made some excellent choices.  And some pretty freakin stupid ones.  But I’ve learned.  And I’ve grown.  And now I see myself for who I truly am.

Here are some of my favorite blog entries from this past year:

Diet of Champions

Hasta Nunca

See Ya’ Later, Alligator

Beautiful People

Winds of Change

Sixteen Candles…plus 20

Evanescence

Personal Jesus

Plus sized clothes = hideous

Simplicity

My best writing was done the first 7 months of this year.  This doesn’t surprise me at all.  July was about the time I accepted I was never going to get any reciprocity from the man I loved, and I shut down.

Come on now, baby girl.

Now that I’ve climbed out of the dating pool, and shaken off like a dog, I’m so much better able to focus.

Greatest lesson learned in 2009?

I haven’t fully learned to love myself, so I’m not ready for anyone else to.  Yet.

Viva 2010.

Happy Birthday my love Sunday, Nov 1 2009 

I just survived an incredibly exhausting, fun-filled weekend.

This is what life is all about.

My daughter.  The little rat.  When I wasn’t paying a bit of attention, she took all of her 18 month old chubby cuteness, and sold it to this wild, bubbly 7 year old who now lives in my house.  What the hell?

Zoe decided a month ago that she wanted to have a birthday blowout.  She planned the entire thing.  From the food, to the dance contest, to the sleeping bag placement at the slumber party….she planned every last detail.  And while it was a good deal of work, it was a total blast.

By 8 o’clock Friday night, we had 2 dozen people in our house.

Mostly children.

We ate walking tacos.  And huge pieces of birthday cake.  There was a dance contest to Thriller.  And a makeover session, complete with manicures.  And tons and tons and tons of laughter.

My daughter and I planned a hum-dinger, if I do say so myself.  Our best friends, all together in one house, for a night we’ll always remember.

Zoe told me that her favorite part was her Aunt Carrie being there, because Carrie’s birthday is the next day and it’s something they always share.  (What 7 year old says this?)  While I have to agree with Zoe on the amazing, everlasting coolness of the Aunt Carrie, my personal choice for best moment was when Tenderoni walked in.  Because my ex was sitting right by the door.  Mwa ha ha…

Did I eat too much this weekend?  A-duh.  Yes I did.  But I also went for a nice long walk, did Hip Hop Abs with one of my dearest friends and our kids, and chased 7 year olds for 6 hours.  That’s gotta count for something.

Special occasions are worth the splurge.

The trick is not doing it every day.

Back to moderation today.  Because I’m worth it.

Baby Girl Thursday, Oct 8 2009 

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I am so proud of my daughter.

Ever since Zoe was born, I have been very careful about creating a healthy relationship for her with food, water, and exercise.  It is during our youth that we develop the majority of our thought processes, and it is very important to me that both of my children, but especially my daughter, have healthy eating habits.

This can be tricky.  If I create a list of forbidden foods, if she’s anything like her mama, she’s only going to want them more.  If I force her to eat greens at every meal before she can have a cupcake, I’m creating the ideas in her head of good food/bad food.  It really is a constant battle for me to make sure that I don’t comfort eat in front of her.  I also have to make a mental note to use food as nourishment, not a reward.

I’m forever overanalyzing.

Overthinking the menu for dinner.

Micromanaging her lunchbox.

Secretly manipulating her choices.

Am I afraid she’ll be overweight?  Of course I am.

This is a cross I wouldn’t cast on my worst enemy, let alone my own precious angel.

But I’m more afraid that poor choices will lead to self-hate.  Self-harming behaviors.  And that self-loathing we all know so well.

So do I let her eat McDonalds?  Of course I do.  But 6 years of excellent parenting have created a child who makes strong choices.  She’ll order the cheeseburger, with apple slices, and some juice.  Not perfect, but pretty solid for 6.  There for a while she would make a choice, and then say “Was that a good choice, mama?”  To which I would answer, “You tell me.”  Sometimes she already knew the answer, and would change her choice.  Sometimes not.  But in my opinion, this kiddiepoo has struck a pretty fantastic balance.

This past weekend we spent Saturday night having girl time with my best friend and her daughter.  We went to a street festival.  Land of fried Pepsi and funnel cakes.  The first thing we did was make a b line for the corn dogs.  She ate about half of hers, and said “Mama, I’m done.”

I beamed inwardly.

We walked on, got a balloon dog, looked at some knick knacks, and walked some more.  She stopped and looked at a sterling silver dolphin necklace.  She asked if I would buy it for her.  And I did.  She put it on immediately, and displayed  a huge grin.  We walked some more, hand in hand, until she spotted the elephant ears.  Her eyes lit up.  As did mine.  We ordered just one, and shared it with my friend and her daughter.  Finally, there was about a quarter of it left, and everyone was done.  Zoe thanked me for buying it and simply said, “I’m done, mama.”

Dang, I love that little peanut.

On our way out of the festival, we bought a big bag of cotton candy.  She quickly ate a couple pulls, and then set it aside.  It sat most of the week in the back seat of my car, until yesterday when I threw it away.

So the little peanut makes her own choices, and does a pretty darn good job at it, if you ask me.

The night before last, Zoe and I were doing our nightly stretches and exercises.  We chose Hip Hop Abs.  This is our girly time after Zion goes to bed, and it is a real hoot.  As we were giggling, she said “Mama, this is way better than watching a movie and eating popcorn.  I like having fun with you.”

Me too, boo.  And I couldn’t be more proud.

Curlforming my way to FABULOUS Friday, Oct 2 2009 

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So yes, I admit that I took this photo of myself.  With my cell phone.  In the stock room at work.

But seriously, my hair was looking so fabulous that day that I had to take a shot of it.  525,600 people had commented on its’ gorgeousness.  And I wanted photographic proof for my fabulous blog reading divas.  Now, before you get your panties all in a wad, and think that I spring forth from the bed with my hair looking like this, take a deeeeeeep breath.  I assure you this is not the case.  It takes preparation.  But it is well worth it.  What do I use?

Curlformers.

The following is a 10 minute tutorial which I snagged off of youTube.  Now, no one expects you to watch the entire 10 minutes.  But the first 60 seconds will show you how these are used, and the secret to my luminous and luscious locks.

Disclaimer:  I do not know the freak in this video.  I am not endorsing her, any of her Curlforming methods, or the strange Euro-porn synthesizer music playing in the background.  This video is simply for informational purposes.

I’ve done this so much, that I can Curlform my entire head in 15 minutes.  If I am going to use these, I plan my day accordingly.  Let’s say I have to be somewhere at 5pm.  I put the Curlformers in my hair at noon, and leave them in for about a half an hour while I pick up around the house.  Then when I sit down to check my email and write my blog, I pop a hood dryer on my head for about an hour.

I can already hear you…..”I don’t have a hood dryer, those are expensive!”

Down girls.

The one I use is an attachment for my regular hair dryer.  It cost $10 at Sally Beauty Supply.

Once the curls are dry, I allow my head to cool for about 15 minutes, and then remove the Curlformers.  I pop some Paul Mitchell Skinny Serum (generic available at Sally’s, $5) on my hands, run it through my curls, and spray.

Yes it takes over an hour.  Yes the hood dryer gets hot.  Yes I have to reposition the dryer so as not to scald my head.  Yes it is more time consuming than a quick wash, dry, spritz, and sizzle.

But most things worth doing are.

Exercise.

Proper diet.

Vitamin consumption.

Water intake.

Great hair is just another step in being the fabulous woman you already are inside.  Sally’s Beauty supply is my secret weapon.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

Connect the Dots Monday, Sep 28 2009 

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Yours truly, yesterday about 5pm.

My most recent store of choice?

Dots.

Their clothes are trendy, fun, and budget-friendly.  The shirt I’m wearing in this photograph was $10.

The jacket, $20.

Necklace, $7.

Sunglasses, $4.

Size 18 jeans that you can’t see, $19.  (Notice how I worked in the jean size there.  Tee hee….)

There is no reason anymore to be “plus-sized and frumpy.”  You don’t have to buy, let alone wear, the trash bag looking t-shirts with a huge tweety bird on the front.  It is no longer necessary to wear elastic waisted, peg-leg, or high-water pants.  There are many stores like Dots that can help you be the fabulous, albeit still curvy woman that you are, without breaking the bank.

Listen up chicka-teetas.

Life is not about finding yourself.  Life is about creating yourself.

You are fabulous, gorgeous, and full of worth, simply because you exist.  Do not ever let any person tell you otherwise.  It doesn’t matter what you look like or how much you weigh.  Your diamonds are on the inside, and that’s where it has to start, or even at 125 pounds, you’re never going to be happy.  This weight loss journey is just part of who I am, and what I am doing to better myself.  My weight does not define me.  I am not wearing it spray-painted across my chest.  I am a curvy, confident woman, and I don’t need anyone else to validate that for me.

 

Eggscellent Wednesday, Sep 23 2009 

Oooooh boy, I love me some eggs.

And somehow I eat them every single day, and my cholesterol is fine.  Woot!

My latest hobby is finding new ways to fix them.  My favorite?  Poached.  I also love Huevos Rancheros.  If you’ve never had this Mexican delight, please come over for breakfast this weekend.  MAN that is some good stuff.  (Corn tortilla+fat free refried beans+sunny side up fried egg+spicy ranchera sauce over the top. YUMMO!)

I find that when I eat a breakfast high in protein, I feel much better throughout the day.  I have more energy, I feel full longer, and I don’t get that crappy carb crash at 10am.  Here are two examples of how food fueled my day:

Friday, Random, 2009.  2 eggs scrambled, 2 ounces grilled steak chopped and sprinkled on top, 1 oz white Mexican cheese, salsa and 1/4 avocado.  And black coffee.  Now granted, this is 13 WW points.  But I also ate it at 8am, and wasn’t the least bit hungry until 2pm, and I was running around all morning.  I did have an apple and some cucumbers at 11am just to keep the metabolism regulated, but like I said, I didn’t actually feel hunger until after 2pm.  And at that point I had a turkey sandwich and some yogurt.  I noted that between the hours of 8am and 2pm I was constantly moving, I didn’t get sluggish, and I had a smile on my face.  I am not a carb hater.  I just try not to eat them in the morning.

Monday, Random, 2009.  Grape Nuts, Banana, Light Vanilla Soymilk, and black coffee.  I had this meal at 8am.  This was another busy day for me, and I was completely out of energy by 10:30am.  I was sluggish, grouchy, and empty.  Complete sugar crash.  The crash and extreme hunger hit my trigger and I continued to eat like a teenage boy the rest of the day.  This is what I call setting myself up for failure.

So eggs, while cholesterol-rich and straight up good ammo for some stinky gas, are really quite good for you.  If, of course, they are consumed responsibly.  Sort of like tequila.  Oh wait….

So here is my challenge to you, my readers.  Via the comment section here, leave your best egg recipe.  What I’d really like is a quiche type breakfast that contains spinach and cheese, but doesn’t taste like donkey fazoo.  And don’t even think about leaving that Atkins Diet quiche recipe on here or I’ll have you banished.  Ew.

Have at it kids.  And I wasn’t kidding about the Huevos Rancheros this weekend.

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