i'll come back swinging.

Oh, my dear Patrick Star, HOW FUCKIN RIGHT YOU ARE.

I would cut a bitch for two scrambled eggs with pepper and ketchup right about meow. All the whining I did about not being able to workout and my fears about my weight hitting yet another plateau must have reached the ears of the weight loss gods because not only am I down in poundage, but I'm also starving.

Like, seriously, I knew this would be hard. But do you seriously have to test my resolve in this manner? Seriously.

I'm going apeshit at work because I WANT EGGS. Shit, I'll take ANY protein. I don't even want carbs, I need a cow. A whole freaking cow. Shit, give it to me alive and hand me a steak knife. I'll MacGyver my way out of this.


My pretend friend, Liz, at One Twenty Five issued a challenge in June of last year -- 5 pounds and/or 5k in one month. Obviously, I'm nine months behind... judge me. But seeing as though tomorrow is conveniently the first day of March (ps where the fuck has this semester gone?) I feel like I should partake in this challenge.

So.... I'll be celebrating le poisson d'avril being (at least) 5 pounds skinnier and having completed 5k on the treadmill. It's official.




PS - the cut a bitch feeling subsided after tearing into an orange and a cup of green tea.

stand a little taller.

Everyday is a battle. Every single day I fight with myself, I fight for all kinds of reasons. Right now I'm fighting myself to finish the breakfast that's sitting in front of me right now. I know I should eat it, but I just don't have any interest. I've been fighting my body this week, every step I take is a fight against giving in and taking a nap. I hurt all over, but I'm fighting the urge to take Tylenol. Mostly because I got myself in this IIH mess to begin with by ignoring the signs and masking the symptoms with pain killers. I wholeheartedly understand the idea that pain is a warning that something's wrong but I'm afraid I've taken it too far in embracing the constant feeling of pain. Now I fight with the idea of how much pain is too much?... I fight the urge to run more, to eat more, to sleep more, not entirely sure if these denials are for health reasons or because I feel like I don't deserve a break.

Everyday I fight.

Today I conceded a small victory to mother nature and her stupid laws of physics by taking 1000mg of Tylenol. I'm not going to lie, I feel so much better, but this worries me because I don't want to get in the habit of reaching for pills to get through the day.

I've become best friends with ace bandages, my rolling pin, and electric heating pad. The smell of muscle cream is oddly calming to me. Sometimes I feel like a fraud for identifying myself as a runner when I can only do 1-2 miles at a time, but the pain in my calves and my floor stretching ninja skills tell a different story.



I have to tell you all about yesterday. I'm beaming with pride.

After work I went to the gym (duh). I was waiting for my friend to come meet me (because she's supposed to be my workout buddy) but the last few months have been excuse after excuse after excuse as to why she can't do this or do that. Whatever, I'm so over this shit. I did my stretches, then warm up, then I set myself to running on the treadmill. Two things happened:

1. I realized the speed I've been running at is too slow. I am practically running on top of the monitor and I have to make conscious efforts to slow it down and take a few paces backwards. The reason I didn't increase in speed was becaaaaaause
2. I increased my distance! I've been running 1.00 mile + 0.25 mile cool down for the last couple of weeks, but my last few runs have been 1.25 mile + 0.25 cool down, and yesterday I took it alllll the way to 1.5 mile + 0.25 cool down. The truth is, I know I can run more, but I'm thinking long-term here so I'm taking it easy on the time/distance I spend on the treadmill so I don't run myself into an overuse injury (I'm already having enough soreness issues as it is).

The last time I trained for a 5k was in 2008 and I was in decent shape until I pushed myself too hard and ended up with a raging case of tendonitis. I would like to avoid similar injuries at all costs. After my run, I did 2.25 miles on the elliptical. It was brutal, but absolutely necessary. I feel like my legs hurt a lot less (and therefore I'm less inclined to go home and crash) if I incorporate a different post-run exercise. After the gym I went directly home to stretch, roll, and massage the soreness out of my legs. I planted myself on the couch with the heating pad until I got strong suggestions from boyfriend to make dinner (he's been having to cook for himself a lot lately and I think he resents me for that).

The problem I have with cooking these days is that I've largely cut out meat and so I pretty much only eat things raw, but boyfriend is die-hard carnivore and I have difficulties justifying the long and messy process of cooking just to meet his needs. [Yeah, I know... I'm selfish] Plus, I'm tired ALL THE TIME, last night being no exception. I had enough energy to toss some chicken tenders in bread crumbs and bake them, it was quick and simple and above all HEALTHY. And then I did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Can I get a WHOOOOAA PRODUCTIVITY! Naturally, after dinner I passed the fuck out. I didn't even shower... eeeeew.



Call me a condescending bitch if you must, but it makes me super sad to see overweight people who don't give two shits about their health. If anything, it just makes me so fuckin thankful that I got my wake-up call when I did.

what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Boyfriend got me some new tunes for the iPod last night. He kindly had Adele's 19 (no offense, but... 21 isn't so fresh these days) and Kelly Clarkson's Stronger at the top of the list waiting for my sexy butt to dance to.

No joke, I might spend the entire time at the gym listening to "Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)" on repeat. POWER SONG LIKE WHOA.

Despite only getting around 5 hours of sleep last night, I'm feeling FAN-FUCKIN-TASTIC. I might have a different opinion on the matter in a few hours, but for now I'm enjoying the feeling.

In addition to today's all around awesomeness, I had three very pretty numbers staring up at me from between my toes on the scale:

253.0

HANG THE FUCK ON WHILE I GET MY SWAG ON.

I was really starting to think this was impossible. Yesterday felt like all kinds of awful, but it just goes to show how much can change in a matter of hours. New day, new start.

The other day when I was rolling the shit out of my hip flexors, boyfriend and I were discussing exercise methods. I told him I felt like I had hit a wall, and he said that there's no reason why doing 45 minutes of ANY exercise wouldn't lead to weight loss. We had an interesting conversation about intensity and what it means to challenge one's self. I won't lie, it's been on my mind all week.

When I woke up this morning my right hip flexors were aching more than usual, but my friends on Google were kind enough to provide me with stretching exercises to make it feel better. Stretching + a minute of upper leg massage and I was walking around LIKE A BOSS.

Can't wait to run today.

PS - I am a salad-making pro. Cranberry, mandarin, feta, balsamic on spinach. BOOM SHAKA-LAKA.

i know i'm right where i belong.

I was freaking out, like on-the-verge-of-tears upset, when boyfriend called. I told him about what the doc said and he talked me down. I was still upset and frustrated, but he said "hey, at least you have a doctor that cares."

And it's true. It's so fucking true.

I'm a straight-A student. I don't like failing. I don't like disappointing people. When I set my mind to something, I DO IT. So you can imagine how insurmountable this health challenge feels -- to dedicate myself to getting better every single day in every single aspect and I'm not seeing results. I really need to see results. But boyfriend had a good point when he said I can't worry about the numbers. He said I can't worry about what's going on with my bicarbonate levels or what my potassium reading is, that's what I pay the doctor for.

I'll keep doing my thing, and she can do her doctor thing.

And I have a really good doctor.


My appetite made a reappearance about an hour ago but I didn't want to eat so I made a tall mug of green tea. How's that for BOO YA.

Also, I pounded out a killer powerpoint for my presentation tonight. ON A FREAKING ROLL.

lately i'm sorry i can't hold a smile.

Fuck my fuck.

What I didn't mention in my post twenty seconds ago was that today sucks. I want to gym, but my leg hurts and I'm seriously fucked on a presentation I'm supposed to do tonight at 6:00pm on globalization in developing markets. I haven't even started.

All I want to do is run.

Doc called just now. My bicarbonate levels are better since going on a lower dose of Diamox, but to compensate I'll have to double up on the Lasix. I really don't like Lasix.

She asked if I had been having any headaches or visual problems which I found to be kind of weird. I didn't get the impression that my IIH was that bad.


I'm so frustrated I want to scream.

I know this isn't bad news, but it's been so long since I've heard anything good that I'm starting to feel like this is going to be my constant reality.

Blood test in two weeks. Goal: rock the shit out of the next two weeks.

the rise and fall.

I skipped the gym half of last week due to a pain in my right leg that's been plaguing me for a few weeks now. I finally figured out last night that it's most likely a hip flexor strain (more specifically, rectus fermoris... the green one in the pic above).

Yesterday I did a new Pilates video! Boyfriend had given it to me for Christmas but I just never got around to trying it out. It's only half an hour but it is INNNN-TENSE. I was so energized by the new challenge that I'm dying to do it again, but I know I need REST REST REST.

Ugh, health.

Not working out all week has been driving me nuts, I felt pent up and cranky despite the ass kicking delivered to me during my Pilates sessions this weekend. I went to the gym late last night with every intention of running just a few minutes before moving on to the elliptical. I got to 1.25 miles and the only reason I stopped was because I knew I would be in a world of hurt if I continued. It didn't actually hurt to run but I could feel the stiffness creeping in. I did two 2.25 miles on the elliptical (it sucked balls, but I finished) and hobbled home.

I had the genius idea to take a rolling pin to my leg when I got home, after 20-30 minutes I was almost pain-free. I spent the rest of the night with a heating pad on my leg to stretch out the muscles and I went to bed feeling GREAT. It was exactly the opposite this morning. Another session with the rolling pin, heating pad, and some floor stretches and I am at least able to hobble around now, here's to hoping it gets better soon.

I was feeling so freaking good in my Vibrams last night that I didn't want to take them off to change into my Adidas shoes, so I left them on and tried them out on the treadmill. It was strange at first but now I'm totally addicted. Not sure how I feel about them on the elliptical, but that could just be because everything about the elliptical sucked last night.

I've had no appetite today, which is a shame because we grabbed some fresh produce at the store yesterday. I was awake for two hours hoping that I would get at least the tiniest bit hungry (never happened), and then I forced myself to eat. I made a salad: turkey, tomato, feta, on spinach, tossed in balsamic. It was good, but I feel gross and I wish these stomach issues would just go away.


Scale said 255.5 and my blood pressure is doing weird things. I think it's the machine.

how did you know that I would play the part?

I don't like social situations which is a big problem for my socially-needy boyfriend. But last night I bit the bullet, put on my best dark jeans and black shirt, and hit the bars.

Conclusion: I drank too much.

I had 3 long islands, 1 vodka cranberry, and 1 big ass coors light in 4 hours. It was barely enough to maintain a buzz and I drove home at the end of the night, but the point remains that it was just too much. I don't understand drinking anymore.

Yesterday I did an hour of pilates and today my leg is hurting. I don't understand what's wrong and I'm really frustrated. I feel like I'm in a funk and I really really don't want to spend two months trying to lose ten pounds like I did in Dec-Jan (for the record, I logged 258.0 on 2/09/12), I could use a change.

I could use a change real bad.

I feel like I'm losing my grip on things. I'm always behind on school work, I'm always in over my head at my job, I'm always tired, there's never enough money and never enough time. [HAHAHAHA side note, "I Got Nothin' Left" just started playing on iTunes. Ironic much?] I think they call this depression? I'd really like to suspend reality for like... one week. I think that's fair.

I'm mad at myself for the drinks I had last night, and even more mad at myself for the batch of rice krispy treats I made just now, and for the spoonful of ice cream I stole from the freezer when I was making said rice krispy treats.


I'm so upset about my leg and the fact that I haven't been to the gym since Tuesday that I NEEDED a pick-me-up in dramatic fashion. I turned to spring cleaning, I only got as far as cleaning the bedroom when I decided to tackle my closet. I had this grand idea to go through my clothes and do a massive purge. Instead, I rediscovered all the beautiful dresses I've been stupidly hanging onto for the last three years. I'm sitting on at least ten little black dresses that I totally forgot I even owned. Half of them fit as-is, the other half need some work. But it was incredible getting to put on a fashion show for boyfriend and in the process getting to congratulate myself for the progress so far.

I was feeling defeated, but then I remembered that I'll always be successful until I officially stop trying. [Oh gag me, that was really sappy.]



ps - BP was 127/75 today. don't know wtf is up with that 127, especially since I'm normally at 115 and I'm on a bloody hypertension medication. smdh.

somehow i forgot how to ease my pain.

Sitting steady at 256.0

I should probably mention that I haven't exercised AT ALL since Tuesday. I'm still having that thigh/leg problem so I'm playing it safe. I totally intend to go to the gym today, by the way.



Went in yesterday for some bloodwork. I didn't notice that the doc had scribbled "For 2/23/12" on the top of the order page, she had told me to go "in two weeks" and that's when I last saw her on a Friday so I got it in my head to go on Friday. My bad. Also, she never marked any tests on the order page which somehow COMPLETELY escaped me, so I showed up to the lab with a blank order. Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb. The lady at the lab paged Stern who in turn called back, confirmed the tests, then asked to speak with me. Who, me? Really? Umm... why?

I guess she was worried about my potassium since starting the Lasix, but I am Potassium Queen. I eat entirely too many bananas, oranges, and avocados to not have this covered. She didn't have my chart with her so she asked for my digits and said she might be calling back later to make changes in my doses, but I never got a call last night (which seriously disturbed my sleep... no joke) so I assume all is well? Ehh... I suppose I'll hear from her at some point, if I was dying I would know.

I took my blood pressure twice just now... I got 134/77 and 142/73. Pretty sure that's not right.

but i stand tall to get by.

Late night at work last night... it was busy and I was exhausted and in all the confusion I plain out forgot to eat. Straight up, it happens more than I'd like to admit. The good thing about being a stress eater is that the pendulum swings in both directions -- when shit hits the fan, stress seriously suppresses my appetite.

I did, however, make time to eat an orange and drink plenty of green tea (I'm rocking a new flavor this week... Raspberry Gardens by Celestial Seasonings). And after work I had enough sense about me to peck at some deli turkey for protein.

I volunteered (don't ask me why, it was a really stupid idea) to come into work this morning, so I dragged my sleepy self out of bed after two measly hours of sleep. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper. The late night turkey threw my routine off and I didn't eat breakfast until 9am (bran flakes, vanilla yogurt, banana).

[Side note, I really don't know where I'm going with this post]

For lunch, I had some deli turkey and half an avocado on a whole wheat tortilla with a generous heaping of salt (muchos gracias et un gros merci to my diuretics for throwing off my electrolyte balance) and I cut up half a cucumber with fresh cracked pepper as a side dish. Here, let me translate this for you: I've ran out of produce again, so I took all the green shit I could find in the fridge and threw it together. Oh, and I had a can of V8 and a fuckton of water.

I've been trying to be really good about eating lately. But when I say "really good" in relation to eating, I'm not talking about avoiding the bad foods. What I really mean to say is that

• I'm taking care to remind myself to eat, even when I'm not hungry
  
• I'm eating good and healthful things when I do bother to eat, I make the best use out of the prime real estate in my GI tract
  
• I'm aware that not eating is a problem, so I'm doing what I can to move this train in the opposite direction

It really does feel like I'm pushing up against a moving train sometimes. Boyfriend asked me how I could forget dinner... he says he understands forgetting lunch, but dinner? And the truth is, there are days when I forget BOTH. It's the stupidest thing, too, because I used to love food, and I know damn well that my blood tests don't hide anything and it's really in my best interest to take care of myself.

But... shit happens? (Is that a fair evaluation? I think it is.)

chick things.

I've been anxiously awaiting my period for the last week (no joke) for several reasons. Let's start at the top:

- Ever since that one voicemail disaster I have severe anxiety regarding my childbearing abilities. I'm allergic to babies, no joke.
- My medication has been messing with my menses and I spend about two weeks of every month being a hormonally imbalanced psychopath. I'm a nightmare to be around.
- Despite being on TWO prescribed diuretics, my body hangs onto every drop of fluid during this time and it plays tricks with scale.

It's very discouraging dealing with girl issues when trying to lose weight. I've been eating nothing but lettuce, tomatoes, and the occasional avocado for weeks and in the span of three (THREE!) days, the scale went from 254.5 to 259.0 even though I exercised every day.

I'm on the brink of starvation, my body is broken and I'm having to hobble around like a cripple because I'm exercising so hard, and one stupid useless organ (I'm looking at you, uterus) wakes up from its monthly nap to fuck things up. WHORE.

Like losing weight isn't already hard enough without becoming temporarily psychotic, bloated, having the world's worst cramps, and having to make frequent trips to the ladies' room. FUCK YOU, UTERUS. FUCK YOU. But no one talks about it, because it's unpleasant or unladylike or inappropriate. So screw you and your freaking etiquette, I'm going to say it: having a period sucks. For (as long as) two weeks, I have to work even harder at fighting my own body just to see that I gained a fucking pound?! Are you f-ing kidding me? Yeah, I'm sitting at 256.0. FML.



Other chick things:

There are things in my closet that I avoid on principle, but they stay in my closet for a sunnier skinnier day. Somewhere along the last thirty-seven pounds I guess I forgot that I've lost thirty-seven pounds. I still avoid that polo shirt because it's snug around the arms and that cami that's too short and the blouse that's too tight. It's just a matter of habit.

If there was ever a time that I needed a pick-me-up, it would be this week. This week I'm fighting the bloat, I'm fighting a running injury, I'm fighting my own mind as I debate having another bite of the chocolate cake that's currently sitting a foot away from me on my desk (dear guest, thanks a million, but you're a jerk). Encouragement this week is coming from silent screams in my closet: the new pants that I bought just a few weeks ago... baggy; the ruched navy-and-cream polka dot blouse I got on Black Friday... beautifully drape-y; my favorite pair of blue satin panties... dangerously close to falling off my ass.

I was hoping to break into the 240s by the end of this month, but I need to be real with myself. I don't consider this a failure, just a realignment with reality. But it's important to remind myself of where I'm going and how phenomenal the road has been so far. So... to put things in perspective:

Today, Thursday 23 February 2012, I have lost 37 pounds to date. I currently weight 256.0 (AND MY PANTIES DON'T FIT). On this day, I am 11 (ELEVEN!) pounds away from a sig-fuckin-nificant number of 245.0, which will mark the sexiest skinniest that my boyfriend (and most people I know these days) has ever seen me.



I am so worth it. (PS - living off green tea and rabbit food = great for my wallet)

you'll wanna look just like me.

I'm loving the Vibrams. The truth is, I spend so much time barefoot that making the change to "barefoot" shoes seems a little... stupid. But it works for me! The soreness from the pinky toe stretch that I was experiencing at first is largely gone (yay!).

Yesterday I tried to run but I only got five minutes in when I just had to quit. Two things happened:
1. The slight pain in my right mid-inner thigh has gone from a fleeting pinch to full fledged soreness. That's a lie, I'm in excruciating pain. Even walking sucks. The remedy: no running this week.
2. I was in so much pain while running that I went straight from a fast jog to a complete stop. My blood pressure spiked and I felt really terrible for several minutes. Note to self - don't do that again.

I'm exhausted all the time, and these bursts of hormones are doing nothing to help my condition. I'm so frustrated that I'm exhausted, and I feel my body fighting against me. I try to do so well with food and then I feel an unavoidable rush that undoes all my best efforts. I feel bloated and insane (like, seriously insane) but time seems to go by soooooo fucking slow. I just want to punch something.

I just want to punch something. ALL THE TIME.


The scale read 259.0 last night, but I refuse to believe that since I had just eaten, I hadn't pooped all day, I'm bloated, and life sucks this week. Bah humbug.

questions, i have these questions.

I'm pretty sure if I lost 25 more pounds, I would go fuck lot faster than 50 seconds.

For the second day in a row, scale says 257.0. I'm about to bleed soon, so I'm praying to Jesus that it's nothing more than bloating. Definitely not cuz of the TWO Snapples I had yesterday or the big ass bowl of chips I had no business eating at 11pm. Or the fact that I never exercised yesterday. Shut it.

Operation: break in the new Vibrams is going swimmingly, minus the pinky toe on my right foot. I don't know why, but these damn shoes pull my pinkies in the wrong direction and it hurts.

I made a chart of my weight loss and it actually looks good! A lot better than I had imagined, anyway. I bought a camp shirt from Target during black Friday two years ago and it didn't fit despite being XXL. Like, it wasn't even close, I couldn't put my arms into the sleeves much less worry about getting it to button. Today, it slipped right onto my arms and I snugly buttoned myself in. Still have some work to do, but it's screaming PROGRESS.

every time I close my eyes.

254.5

and then boyfriend suggested we go to a chinese buffet for lunch. yeah, fml.

happy medium: sushi.

gym time.

i know it aint easy giving up your heart.

I know how the story ends (or at least, how it's developing so far) but I've been diligently reading One Twenty Five from the beginning in hopes of finding something that would inspire me.

Things I have learned:
1. She has an awesome life.
2. She cares waaaay more about superficial things than I do (and that's saying something, because I'm hella shallow myself).
3. Thank Jesus I have a boyfriend.
4. Thank Jesus I don't have a chocolate habit.

I've been a little brokenhearted at the realization that I read her story for inspiration on what not to do, which I have to admit is a pretty easy feat for me. Firstly, I don't have much of a social life so drinking/drunk eating isn't a problem. Secondly, I have a boyfriend and he isn't going anywhere so the only person I'm trying to impress is myself. And thirdly, I just don't care about cupcakes that much. Or chips, or cookies, or any food for that matter.

I'm not trying to build myself up for having conquered my addictions, that's not the point of why I write tonight. What brings me back to this chick's head is the fight she has for running.

I hate every damn minute of running. Sometimes I get a nice runner's high and I think to myself "o hey, this isn't so bad" and then I notice the time and realize that the thought didn't even occupy my mind for thirty seconds before I was bored again. Not to mention, my timing SUCKS and my distance SUCKS and everything about having to run JUST SUCKS.

"...“the only real way to take time off, is to be lighter,” as I looked down at my eggs Benedict brunch in front of me, I felt fat and stupid."

I'll probably never run a marathon (because I think running is THAT stupid) but these words from the mouth of a person in her running group literally stunned me and made me realize that my measly 10 miles per week are not insignificant and that true success comes from NEVER.GIVING.UP.

I'll probably never run a marathon. But that's nothing to be ashamed of, because just a year ago running wasn't even on my radar, and now I'm sitting forty pounds away from the person I used to be knowing that it started by putting one foot in front of the other. So what if my pace is 14:00. So what if I've never run more than two miles without stopping. THE POINT IS THAT I'LL GET THERE.

No one is born a runner. Every single person on this planet has had to fight at some point in their life to learn to put one foot in front of the other. It's definitely a fight, and it's definitely not easy, but I'm doing it.

slow motion for me.

255 on the scale and new vibrams on my feet make for a wonderful day.

i wanna sex you up.

The essentials:
I had a not-quite-ripe banana first thing after waking. 1.00mi on the treadmill plus another half mile in warm-up/cool-down. Two miles on the elliptical plus a quarter mile going in reverse. After the gym I came home and tossed together a quick salad consisting of two types of lettuce, grape tomatoes, half an avocado, can of tuna, and some balsamic with a pink of parmesan cheese to top it off. It was an incredible salad. Also, my inner thighs burn from the reverse quarter mile.

For a snack at work I cut up a vine ripe tomato and the other half of the avocado and sprinkled on some salt and pepper. For dinner I have a small container of leftover whole wheat pasta with some spaghetti sauce and a pinch of parmesan. Water and green tea to drink.


Now, onto business:
I never pooped yesterday. The stress from work plus going straight from the gym to my night class didn't give me much opportunity to do my business. It took two trips this morning but I felt IMMENSELY better (also, in case you really wanna know... it weighed about two pounds). Yeah, gross.

It pisses me off that fitness experts and other people obsessed with weight loss spend SO MUCH time taking about what goes in to the body without much regard for what's coming out. Take it from me, what comes out is REALLY FUCKING IMPORTANT.

I'm sitting steady at 256.5, which is a relief considering how not invested I've been with my eating habits lately. I made a snack after dinner at 10pm last night... bad choice. I even knew that I would regret what I was doing but I did it anyway. Plus the fish taco extravaganza from Tuesday and the ice cream over the weekend... ugh. Gross, just gross.

I can't remember the last time I had beef. Also, I'm pretty limited on the chicken these days. For convenience purposes I have an interesting dependence on deli meat but we're careful about only buying lean turkey and it's always secondary to a meal anyway. I don't exactly miss meat, but I had a moment today where I could just feel that I needed protein.

I'm ashamed to say that I've never really had my body speak to me like that. Aside from the obvious rumblings that yell I'M HOOOONGRAYYY, I can't say I've ever felt like I needed (as opposed to craved) an item in particular.

It's funny to me to realize that my weight is in the 250s. You would think it would be familiar territory because I spent a lot of time here from 2006-2008, but I think about it and it just makes me laugh. So surreal.

Yesterday I zipped up a hoodie that I could never zip before. Today, I pulled out a shirt that I haven't worn since 2008 (because that's the last time it fit me) and it fits. I've been so narrow-minded in my quest to reach my goals that I forgot to take stock of where I am.

It feels good. It feels real good.

this is why i'm hot.

Exactly why I workout alone.

Sure, sometimes it sucks going at it alone especially on those days I'm craving companionship. But I've done the workout with friends and with boyfriend and I can tell you that shit is distracting.

My hour in the gym is for me. It's quiet time (ignoring the blasting iPod earbuds). I don't think about work or school or food or anything, really, when I'm working out. I focus on my breathing, how my body feels, how much time is left, what hurts, what needs more stretching, what needs more work, what my goals are and how I plan to get there.

At the end of a workout, I feel refreshed (yes, even though I'm in puddles of my own seat) AND I NEVER LEAVE THE GYM IN A BAD MOOD. NEVER.

i've got my mind set on you.

Some housekeeping:

My new heart rate monitor works with the machines I use! I was super seriously excited about getting to run with my fancy new pink watch (true story: I don't wear or even OWN a watch) but about a minute in I could already tell that the sweat around my wrist was going to cause issues with the rubber wrist strap. Good news though, the chest strap alone is compatible with my favorite equipment WHICH IS FUCKIN AMAZING. It's a little jumpy on the treadmill (probably because my boobs are knocking it out of place) but it was super seriously amazing having constant feedback without having to stop to grip the heart rate monitors.

Fun fact of the day: my heart rate spikes when I take a drink of water.

My new compression pants = AH-MAY-ZING. Hot damn, though... they really compress. I don't know what the hell I was thinking taking them straight to the gym with tags on because my abnormally large ass made it impossible for me to run without flashing crack after a minute or two. Part of the problem was that I hadn't stretched them to the shape of my bum yet, but mostly it was due to the fact that I was wearing silk panties in a size too big so everrrrrything downstairs was slipping, if you catch my drift. But straight up, my legs have never felt better. I took yesterday's run as a gift from baby Jesus and I enjoyed all fourteen minutes and forty seconds of it.

True fact: It feels fucking incredible being able to say that my clothes are too big.

The fridge lately has been shades of empty, not quite as desperate of a situation as I've experienced before but definitely a sad, sad state. After a wonderful dinner date with my valentine, we went grocery shopping for the "essentials." And by that I mean I bought out the entire produce section. It's incredible how much $57 buys you when the things in your cart are giant vats of various lettuce, ten pounds of apples, and more grape tomatoes than any one person really needs. My indulgences these days are flavored yogurt and balsamic vinaigrette. AND AVOCADOS. I've been working my way through One Twenty Five from the beginning, I'm in early 2010 right now and Liz seems to be stuck on spinach salads with tuna and avocado. I can't exactly get behind this tuna movement, but I can do avocado. I'm learning to embrace the fact that I'm doing this on my own, which is not to say that boyfriend isn't supporting me. He is, very much so; in fact, I would say beyond any doubt that he is my biggest cheerleader. However, for reasons that are personal to him, he's just not able/willing/ready to join me on this path. And that's perfectly okay! I have to admit that I love knowing that my things in the fridge and pantry will go untouched -- I will never have to worry about him stealing my bran flakes or vanilla yogurt or taking a spoon to the half avocado I left behind this morning. I find a kind of solace in knowing that there are foods in our place that are just for me, and others that are just for him.

True fact: Snack Packs last WAY longer in storage than any food has any business being stored for that long.

I'm tired all the time. And apparently I'm cranky all the time, too. I don't mean to be, but this lifestyle really wears on a person. The weight loss process, in simple terms, is essentially starving the body. Whether or not I'm actually hungry doesn't seem to be the problem, it's a matter of being overworked and exhausted. The many changes in my medication doses over the last couple of weeks hasn't helped either. Boyfriend has expressed concern that I've become too wrapped up in my physical appearance, but these days it seems like that's all I have to cling to. Being this constant weird mix of tired-hungry-cranky-sore can be pretty defeating at times so if I spend extra time in the mirror noticing that my thighs are slimmer and my panties are barely hanging on to my hips... just do me a favor and fuck off.


True story: if it was easy, then everybody would be doing it.

all you need is... love?

I've gotten so caught up in my health developments this weekend that I've forgotten what this blog is about.

Saturday
I ate five chips (Doritos, I think), for dinner I had a giant plate of penne with vodka sauce with strips of Italian ham peppered in. There was a monster amount of chicken breast in the dish too, but I donated most of that to boyfriend. I had one slice of garlic bread, water to drink. I shared an ice cream with boyfriend (the website says I took in about 340 calories if split evenly, but he ate more so... you divide it how you see fit) and then I further indulged myself with an ice cream cookie sandwich with sprinkles at 480 calories. Shove it, we were celebrating Valentine's Day.

I ran 1.00 mile, plus another half mile in brisk walking with the warm-up/cool-down. Two miles on the elliptical plus a quarter mile cool-down.

Sunday
I had a small burrito of huevos con chorizo with a side of breakfast potatoes. For dinner boyfriend made chicken tacos in grilled corn shells, and I sliced two small vine tomatoes as a side dish. Plus the last ice cream cookie sandwich.

I ran 1.00 mile, plus another half mile in brisk walking with the warm-up/cool-down. Two miles on the elliptical plus a quarter mile cool-down. Hour of Pilates at home.

Monday
I ate a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. It was mostly broth, I was careful to pick out most of the chicken and focus on the carrots and celery instead. Same for dinner.

No time for exercise, I had a long day of catching up on school work and I spent most of the night in class.

Today
breakfast: Special K vanilla almond cereal with skim, ate a banana mid-morning. For lunch I have packed a turkey sandwich with leafy greens and a slice of pepperjack cheese on whole wheat. Baby carrots on the side. Two oranges and green tea for snack.

The plan is to run 1.00 mile, plus another half mile in brisk walking with the warm-up/cool-down. Two miles on the elliptical plus a quarter mile cool-down.



I think calorie counting is stupid. For me, it makes me obsess about everything I eat and every bit of activity I accomplish throughout the day. It's the fastest path to an eating disorder, in my opinion. I stay consistent by using the same tupperware everyday and taking good notes on how much I eat and how I feel after eating. Also, I should mention that I've broken the habit of eating everything in sight. I tend to overpack my meals for work because I would rather be here with too much food that goes back in the fridge than to not have enough and spend the whole day obsessing over what I could be eating.

Speaking of habits, I think of everything in terms of habits. EV-ER-Y-THINGGG. I had to condition myself to be consistent with my meds, with my workouts, with waking up for work, with eating right, with grocery shopping. There's almost nothing I don't look at and somehow try to turn into a habit. Writing/reading blogs, weighing myself, saying au revoir to alcohol and late night trips to the fridge... all habits. If I can get myself to stick with something for 21 days, I can rule the world MUWAHAHAHAHAHA.

I rely heavily on incentives, because I'm a material person. But I also think of it as making investments in my health. For example, I ordered new shoes this week. While I probably won't have them until my possession until Thursday or Friday, I still use it for motivation. I tell myself on the treadmill "just think of your new Vibrams!" and it helps me run longer/faster/harder. This week I'll be rocking new compression pants and a PINK heart rate monitor, BECAUSE I'M WORTH EVERY PENNY. Also, these items serve as reminders that my money will have gone for nothing if I don't put them to use AND if I don't give it my all. People who have heart rate monitors aren't the kind of people to half-ass it. Duh.

just stay here, close my eyes.

I ate too late last night. Somehow I managed to eat all my cereal just now, but it's making me very uncomfortable. Gastrointestinal issues suck.

Five things for lovers (you know, cuz it's Valentine's Day)

• I GOT NEW RUNNING PANTS! They're suuuuper thick and they feel like actual compression pants as opposed to just stretchy fabric.
  
• MY VIBRAMS SHIPPED TODAY. Scheduled delivery is for Thursday, which means I'll have to pick them up from the post office on Friday because our mail carrier sucks like that.
  
• I GOT A HEART RATE MONITOR. AND IT'S PINK. Boyfriend woke up early with me this morning to give me my vday gifts. Here, let me gush about it. I GOT RED ROSES, AND RUNNING PANTS, AND A HEART RATE MONITOR, AND THE MOST STUNNING GOLD/DIAMOND EARRINGS. I love him.
  
• I eat entirely way too much at work.
  
• I eat entirely way too little at home.

Pursuant to my conversation with Dr Stern yesterday, I had some anxiety about dropping the dose on the Diamox. It just feels wrong only taking one pill a day. So last night I took three out of habit as a final goodbye so that I could start fresh today. 21 days to a new habit. I can do this.

She didn't say anything about this, so maybe I'm taking matters into my own hands a tad too much, but I've decided to become more active in my own treatment. Bring on the mineral water and bicarbonate-loaded foods. I read something about oranges being a good source, so I brought two with me to work.

Considering the huge role Diamox (and now Lasix) have played in my weight loss, I would consider it a tragedy if I had to stop taking them now. I'm 30 pounds away from the next milestone and 70 pounds away from my ideal weight and I know beyond a doubt that I can do this. I.CAN.DO.THIS.

i heard it screaming out your name.

Some good news and some other news.

First and foremost, results from the EMG came back normal. Doc still thinks it's hereditary neuropathy but nothing that requires any action or further testing. So I have unusually high arches and decreased sensitivity to temperature, as long as I'm pain-free I'm good to go. SO YAY! This also makes me really happy I went ahead and bought those Vibrams yesterday

Secondly, the results from last Friday's blood test came back. My bicarbonate levels have dropped even lower than a week-and-a-half ago (when I had my regular follow-up with Stern). I was supposed to be at 1500mg of Diamox daily, but following this pair of results I'm now down to 500mg daily. That's one pill in the morning, one at night.

This is not at all how I anticipated things to go.

I desperately want off my meds, but I want off the right way. I want to know that I've worked myself off them, that I'm a completely healthy person who doesn't need pharmaceutical intervention. It hurts my soul slightly that my body is fighting against itself because I know given a little more time and a lot more effort, I can do this my way. Doc says cutting the Diamox in half and taking Lasix at the same time should be "enough" (ps I really hate that word) to give me a cushion.


I'm annoyed. Thankfully, it's good inspiration for the gym.

we could have had it all.

I would like something potato, deep fried, and smothered in salt. Mostly, I'm thinking of Taco John's for which I have acquired a taste after a nasty hangover two months ago.

I like to say I'm not on a diet, because I'm not really. I eat whatever I want (case in point: last night, I had an ice cream cookie sandwich at a whopping 480 calories, the night before that I wiped a plate of pasta CLEAN). But I would be lying if I said there were no restrictions.

Lately I've been missing food, but not in the hunger sense. Believe me when I said I am well fed. Despite the four (!!) months of hard work and dedication I have put into myself, it's still incredibly hard breaking certain habits, and by that I am referring to my habit to indulge. Funny thing is, the less I indulge the more weight I lose.

I am really enjoying the way my body looks/feels these days. Can't give it up.

Today the scale read 256.5, was was shaking in my panties thinking of how fan-fuckin-tastic that is. Next thought: oh, how I miss fast food.

I am 4.5 pounds away from enjoying a 40 pound weight loss victory, and about 11 pounds away from being the hot piece of ass that I was when I met boyfriend. These are REALLY important milestones. At 245, my next goal will be 220 which is where I started in college (one of the hottest times in my life). After that is completely uncharted territory.

I can't believe I've stuck it out this long, I can't believe how fast it's happening. But dammit, I'm hungry!



Sometimes when I'm running on the treadmill I get depressed at how difficult it is for me to run a mile. And then I remind myself that I just started running two weeks ago, and I still weigh quite a bit, and suddenly it doesn't feel so hopeless. The frigid Iowa weather is giving me an excuse to hide my running inside the confines of a fitness center that I share with no one, but deep down I know eventually I'll have to take my efforts outside.

(Still no call from Dr Stern...)

My ADIpures have treated me well and I know I couldn't have accomplished this without them, but I took another bold step this weekend and order a pair of Vibrams for my future running endeavors. They'll be delivered on Thursday. I'll keep you posted.

you're my favorite mistake.

Oh, Lasix. Even at 20mg a day (split between two doses), you suck.

Upset stomach and fatigue are the only symptoms I've encountered so far.

I'd happily take the upset stomach if I was able to live my life normally, then it might actually help my weight loss process. But the fatigue is killer. I was up for ten hours yesterday before I was overcome with the most extreme exhaustion.

It's nowhere near as bad as when I started on Diamox, but I'm not happy about this at all.

Either the doc had a serious oversight, or she's blessed me with some undercover good news: I only have 2 months of Lasix and my dose of Diamox has been lowered.

Note to self: call her office about this tomorrow.

merci à vous tous.

Lots to write about, so little time.

EMG went... umm, it went. Gotta call back for results on Monday.

Lasix is kicking my ass. It's not quite as bad as it was starting Diamox, but I know I'm in for a loooooooong journey trying to acclimate myself to this new adjustment.

Rough ass day at the gym yesterday, it didn't help any that my eating habits were shit. Scale said 260.5 this morning but I refuse to believe that. There's NO FUCKIN WAY I gained two pounds, I haven't even consumed enough calories to gain two pounds not to mention my physical activity has been through the roof.

How is it that I'm on two diuretics and I'm still having to account for water retention? Fml.

I stepped up my game on the treadmill today. It was horrible running (pretty sure this is from the Lasix) but I moved my speed to 4.1 so I've broken my mile time below 15:00. 14:47 to be exact. Slowly but surely.

I had a WHAT THE FUCK moment on the elliptical. I finished two miles in under 22 minutes. I averaged 10:50 per mile, which officially matches my fastest EVER at LEVEL ONE. I'm at level four.

So even though the scale is fighting with me, all the other machines I've used today are not. ROCKSTAR. It's frustrating having to be careful knowing that Lasix is well on its way to ravaging my body after only a day. The solution: I did an hour of pilates today too.

I haven't eaten anything today except for five chips in anticipation for the massive bowl of pasta I'll be ordering at dinner. Somehow I think it's perfectly justified.

this love isn't rational it's physical.

I am STARVING. I don't know wtf is up but I feel like a bottomless pit right about meow. I cut up half a mini watermelon and ate that after the gym, then I cut up an apple, ate a turkey + lettuce + cheese sandwich, now I'm halfway through a bag of baby carrots and I'm not the least bit satiated.

I would really like this feeling to go away. Now.



Because I took yesterday off from exercising, I was feeling especially refreshed today (albeit a little tense in the joints). I spent a tad longer than usual stretching which reminded me how happy I am that I was ever introduced to Pilates. I take that shit with me EVERYWHERE and it makes a difference. Standing still for long periods? Thank you Pilates. Loosening my hips and knees so I can run an extra quarter mile? Thank you Pilates.

I got to 1.00 mile just as "Electric Feel" started to play on my iPod and I just HAD TO keep going. I couldn't waste a good song like that. I ran until 1.25 even though I knew I could have pushed harder and longer. But I'm getting a little concerned about how quickly the weight is coming off these days and I'd much rather slow it down a notch to make sure I don't hurt myself.

You totally read that right.

With the warm-up and cool-down, I spent close to half an hour on the treadmill, plus ten minutes stretching, plus another 27 minutes on the elliptical... these gym dates are really starting to add up. I remember a time when I couldn't last twenty minutes on the elliptical and now I'm rushing out after an 1:20 thinking "damn, I should have come in earlier so I could have more time." Go me.

There was a front desk meeting at work which I didn't have to take part in and I was VERY thankful for that for two reasons:
1. Free pizza
2. Free cake.

I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place these days because people think that if I refuse food I must be starving myself, or if I refuse food it's because I'm trying to save calories because I'm fat and that's what fat people do. Today it was neither. It took me three days to get over the quesadilla incident from Monday and today is the FIRST day this week that I'm feeling good and I'd like to ride this feeling for a while longer. Pizza and cake just don't fit into my life the way that they used to. Unfortunately people don't understand it the way I do so I have to duck awkward situations like this and hope that no one notices.

Someone noticed. Fuck it.


I'm thrilled to be going in to see Dr Stern tomorrow being four pounds lighter. I'm thrilled that this weeks is pretty much over. I'm thrilled because I know boyfriend got me new workout pants for Valentine's day and we're celebrating on Saturday (YAY FOR SMALLER SIZES).

Also, hooray for green tea. Just one cup and the bottomless pit feeling in my stomach is gone. BANISHED.

even I know this aint smart.

TWO
FIFTY
EIGHT
POINT
FIVE.

Holy mother of Christ.

My BM has been off since Monday and I had an educational crisis that kept me from the gym last night and I was feeling especially blaaaah about things, so imagine my surprise on the scale today.

I've lost 3.5 pounds since last Thursday, for a total of 33.5.

Gonna celebrate at the gym :)

i'm bringing sexy back.

Most days I step on the scale wearing only Chanel and Victoria. Mostly, just Chanel. So it goes without saying how immensely disappointed I am in Karl Lagerfeld's comments regarding Adele's weight.

In case I haven't made it abundantly clear by now, I would go gay for Adele. And Celine Dion too, but that's a different story.

The point I have in mentioning any of this is that I'm having difficulty navigating the very awkward world of weight loss. I've found something that works for me and I'm sticking to it; however, this is not the problem of which I speak. What I find astounding is the reaction I get from people around me. "So when are you going to stop?" and "How much have you lost? ... oh, that's not a lot" are rude and unnecessary, but they're also things I hear regularly.

I can't help but feel like my dedication to myself is something that makes other people feel uncomfortable with themselves, and that I should be conducting this life experiment in the confines of a well hidden basement only to emerge after a year with a dramatic before-and-after reveal of myself (complete with life-size cut outs). It seems to me like no one wants to see the process. Everyone expects me to lose weight, but no one wants to stick around for the ride.

This is not something I can or will do privately. I have tremendous amounts of respect for the people who can be shut-ins in their own home for a lengthy period of time only to re-emerge victorious. Sadly, I lack the attention span and financial backing to accomplish such a lifestyle. That means for the people around me, I'll have to eat in public and sweat in public and contemplate the necessity of eating the banana that's currently on my desk in public. I don't mean for it to be such an awkward process, but it is a process and for the sake of my health and sanity I would prefer to keep it at a steady pace.



A few weeks ago I read an article in the NYT about some bullshit scientific explanation about why it's so hard to lose weight. The real explanation, to put it simply, is that people aren't willing to do what's necessary. For example: over the weekend I was walking through the hallway in the hotel that I work at on my way to use the fitness center (un gros merci to my bosses for saving me a gym membership) when one of my favorite housekeepers literally laughed in my face and said (in Spanish) "look who's back again." Apparently it's quite the laughing matter among our housekeeping staff that I am literally there EVERY.SINGLE.DAY, even on my days off. Believe me, there are places I'd rather be and things I'd rather be doing than to have to spend every bloody day in the gym. I like naps, I MISS napping, but these are the sacrifices I make. Then yesterday, my favorite maintenance guy said to me "I wish I had your dedication." I thought it was a very sweet way of complimenting me until I started thinking: he could have the same level of dedication, it's his choice not to that makes all the difference. I found my motivation in the fact that I'm sick: I hate doctors, I resent being on medication, and I understand the science of my condition enough to realize that losing weight is the best thing I have going for myself. I realize not everyone has a built-in motivator such as a debilitating brain condition, but the truth is all it takes is a tiny spark to get the ball rolling.


This week's spark: black jeggings. I've been playing with the idea for a while, but I swear to god I have body dismorphic disorder and I don't see myself objectively so my brain keeps repeating "you're too fat for jeggings." NO.SUCH.THING. Black jeggings THIS WEEKEND.



When things get really tough on the exercise machines, I tell myself "THIS is where you've wanted to be ALL DAMN DAY. MAKE THE MOST OF IT." I pretty much mentally yell at myself to remind my brain that the hour I spend in the gym decides how I get to live the rest of my day. It's harsh, but true (and effective).




I had an exam in class last night which threw my entire day's eating off a bit. I had a banana first thing in the morning before the gym, a turkey sandwich with cheddar, lettuce, and tomato slices for lunch with a handful of kettle chips and a stalk of celery, a can of V8 and a green apple for snack, and for dinner boyfriend made me a grilled chicken quesadilla. It was much bigger and cheesier than I would have made for myself and I felt like he was watching to see if I would eat it all (spoiler: I did) because he has this wild idea that I'm starving myself. It really fucked me up to go to bed with such a full stomach last night. No BM last night or this morning which threw off my breakfast today too. I struggled through a bowl of Special K Vanilla Almond with skim and I skipped my morning banana. I feel really off today, if I don't poop soon it's going to fuck up my run later.

You totally need to know this.

life is a mystery.

I woke up with a severe bout of anxiety this morning.

I think part of it has to do with the fact that my work schedule changed, and I really don't like change. Also maybe because I skipped a class last week and now there's an exam in said class tonight. Oh, I should mention I haven't studied. I'm also seriously behind on the exam I am to have completed by tomorrow (well, technically Wednesday but I won't have time then).

I was also worried that my Super Bowl binge of hot wings and cheesecake make have unraveled my diet, especially considering that I spent yesterday doing weight maintenance instead of a full blown workout. I suppose that's what I get for running eight days straight, my body couldn't take anymore.

I should probably mention that before bed I was googling everything I could find on EMG and nerve conduction tests and neuropathy. The things I read were not pretty. I think I remember Dr Stern saying something about doing the EMG herself and it takes three hours, and if this is indeed true then I feel highly comforted by the fact that she'll be there with me. But if I end up having a technician instead, I might just lose my shit.

I like to keep the number of people who see me in my panties to a bare minimum.


Two wonderful things happened today:
1. I found compression pants on sale online (no tax and free shipping, yahoo!)
2. The scale read 260.0

Let's explore.

Boyfriend didn't know what to get me for Valentine's Day. Last year our gifts got REALLY ridiculous in their magnitude so we decided a while ago to scale things back a bit. I don't exactly want or need anything that I wouldn't buy for myself which puts us in a pickle. Untilllll... the compression pants I have now started to fall off my ass. It's been happening for a while but I wanted to put off buying another pair until I was comfortably at the next size (or maybe even two sizes) down. The shitty part about losing weight like this is that I'm at the point where a large majority of my clothes are starting to not fit. But I also don't want to rush out and buy new clothes because it'll only be a matter of time before those clothes don't fit too.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE shopping, but I'm not exactly prepared to buy new wardrobes at every 30 pounds lost. Not in the cards, babes. Boyfriend had his AHA! moment over this topic and he told me he wanted to take me to the store so I could pick out new workout clothes that actually fit. Mucho thank yous to eBay daily deals for saving me a trip to the mall, and 50% off a pair of good compression pants.

The Vagiants won, Tom Brady lost, all is right in the world. Except even our low-key Super Bowl Sunday was a threat to my weight loss ethic. I devoured countless chicken wings in the name of protein loading, then I helped myself to a 300 calorie piece of cheesecake for the sake of satisfying a craving. It wasn't until a few hours later that all this food was sitting like a rock in the bottom of the stomach that I started to think perhaps I overindulged. I was totally expecting bad news on the scale this morning.

Instead, I awoke to a happy little surprise: 260.0! I didn't believe it, so I walked away and weighed myself again. Still 260.0. To recap: I started running 9 days ago clocking in at 265.5. Yeah, I'M A ROCKSTAR.

This totally gave me the push I needed this morning to get me to the gym. Maybe I can run some of this anxiety out of my system (and discover the 250s in the process!!!).

now I know you're mine.

261.5. Holy cow.

Running.makes.me.SO.HAPPY!!!!!

boom boom boom boom, i want you in my room.

I get a lot of looks when I wear these. Mostly snide comments about how my feet look like those of a gorilla's. Clever.

I've never been able to properly break in a pair of running shoes. Not for running, or sports, or even walking. I hate having my feet restricted in shoes, thus my obsession with flip flops and slip-ons. Yesterday's diagnosis of hereditary neuropathy is opening my eyes up to a new world of explanations that is finally accounting for a life filled with foot-related issues.

And suddenly it all makes sense.

I like the cushioning of running shoes, but they're too thick and my feet are too arched so my poor toes get smooshed in the front of the shoe. I've tried wide soles, going a size up, going a size down, suffering through the very difficult process of "breaking in" a pair, but alas I have had no luck. I don't do trainers.

I tried Vibram Five Fingers once. All the reasons they're so popular with their loyal fanbase are the reasons why I can't wear them. To thin, no arch support, I hated the velcro strap. I'm not looking for a barefoot experience, I'm just looking for a not-shitty experience. Enter the ADIpure.

The sole is noticeably more rigid than that of the VFF, but nowhere near as restrictive as a regular pair of trainers. And the fact that each toe has its own little pocket means that my toes aren't being smashed into anything. It's like a foot glove on top of a very fine trainer sole. My feet have been in heaven since November.


Naturaly, VFF fans have to be their bratty selves by assessing the ADIpures as nothing but knockoffs. I know a knockoff. These shoes are not it.


Pending the confirmation next Friday, this (potential) neuropathy sufferer has nothing but wonderful things to say about these shoes. I look forward to running in them in the morning, and I'm looking forward to buying my next pair in the spring. *Note to self: mention this next week during the EMG.

when i'm a billionaire.

If there's anything you need to know about me, it's that I always let phone calls go directly to voicemail. Unless it's my mom, because she leaves really nasty voicemails if I don't answer her phone calls (I usually get put in time-out. Yes, I'm 25 years old and I live 2 hours away).

I'm sitting here at work sipping on the most delectable green tea when all of a sudden my phone rings. It's Dr Stern.

Dr Stern joined the club of "phone calls to always answer" back in November when she left me a pair of voicemails that seriously led me to believe that I might be pregnant. It was horrible.

Naturally, I jumped to answer. But, not too quickly... don't want to seem too desperate now, do we? I let it ring three times and then I answered with a calm, cool, collected, "Hello? OH HEY!" The results from yesterday's bloodwork came back and she called to inform me that my bicarbonate levels had dropped since November. Since she increased my Diamox to 1500mg yesterday, she didn't feel comfortable having me at that level and told me to rip up the new prescription and return to the 1250mg dose. She said I would get a new 'scrip for Diamox during my appointment next Friday, along with a "very tiny" dose of Lasix.

Oh, Lasix. I was wondering how long it would take before that got mentioned.



In case you can't tell, I'm pretty pissed off. I felt like I had been doing SO WELL. No worries, I'm going to channel this anger into something productive.


10% by May 3 -- Goal weight: 236.5. WHOA.

put your favorite perfume on.

Today I had every intention of running 1.25mi on the treadmill.

Fuck that, I went for two. 2.00 MILES!

Including my 5 minute cooldown, it took 36 minutes which is a horrible time, but the point is that I did it. At 1.67 miles I told myself to do the whole 5k but then I took a look at the clock and realized I was going to be late for a lunch date.

Goal for tomorrow: 5k on the treadmill, nonstop.

Because of my badly timed lunch date, I didn't have time for the elliptical but I wasn't especially bothered by this since I did almost 3 miles on the treadmill between the warmup, actual run, and cooldown. I WAS ON FIRE.



For lunch, boyfriend and I went to Chili's for the Bottomless Express Lunch. For some reason, people think of "bottomless" to be a challenge. But for a mere $7.99 I was perfectly happy with one salad, one bowl of soup, and picking at the basket of chips and salsa. Our server was strongly suggesting I "take advantage" of the bottomless and order more, but for some reason she couldn't comprehend the fact that I was both financially and gastric-ly happy with my amount of consumption.

It's also the same reason why I hate going to buffets, because skinny people think of them as playgrounds for fatties. I SAID NO THANK YOU.



I hit my runner's high at 8:48 in the middle of "Electric Feel" by MGMT. I seriously could not have timed that better. Also, going from Britney Spears to old school No Doubt to Lady Gaga sent me into a happiness seizure.

Sitting pretty at 262.5. I'm afraid to buy clothes now, I feel like things are about to change really quickly.

whoa sometimes i get a good feeling.

"How were you in sports as a kid?"


BAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Clearly my neurologist gives me more credit than I deserve. Me... sports...? Yeah fuckin' right.


It's obvious that my answer was polite and informative. And by that I totally mean that I chuckled in her face and said "yeah... no sports for me."

smh.

feet don't fail me now.

After the scale gods gifted me with my 10% present, I went to the gym to celebrate. I purposely use the word "celebrate" because it was a celebration. And by that I mean I wore sequins. A year ago I would have rewarded myself with a milkshake, but today I'm better than that. Rewards these days hang in my closet. True story.

I did a quarter mile warm-up on the treadmill, then ran steady for a mile (15:22!), followed by a 5 minute cool down. Then, two miles on the elliptical at level 4 (22:47) plus three minutes spinning backwards for a cool down. As I was walking through the hallway, I overheard two of my favorite housekeepers talking about me. No worries, it was all good. It was in Spanish, but from what I could gather from my super extensive vocabulary, the one lady said to the other "She's lost weight, you can tell."

Between the 10%, the sequins, and that comment, I'm surprised my feet made contact with the floor at all. WALKIN' ON SUNSHINE.





I am so... confused?

I've been waiting for my heart to stop racing for the last two hours but alas it has failed and I am still slightly freaking out.

Two months ago I met with my ophthalmologist who said I was making remarkable progress, but she did note that I had minor swelling in one eye which was to be expected since that was the eye that presented with the more severe swelling to begin with.

Today, I was totally expecting to have no swelling in either eyes.

Nope, Grade 1 papilledema in the right eye. This bothered Dr Stern and she increased my dose of Diamox to 1500mg a day (her explanation was that she wanted to see the swelling gone entirely before we could discuss coming off the Diamox).

This makes me super duper sad, because three months and thirty pounds later I'm still having problems. I'm not too upset about my dose being increased because I take great pride in being an exceptional patient. Doc said I'm responding well to treatment and I have an unusually high tolerance for Diamox and for that reason she felt comfortable putting me at a higher dose. For other people, this would be bad news. But for me, I was beaming from being pointed out for my exceptionalness.

Yes, I just made up my own word.

So I have a brand new 'scrip for 750mg of Diamox twice daily, I had a basic metabolic blood panel taken today and I'm scheduled for another in two weeks to make sure my kidneys aren't dying a slow death. Overall, good news.

While I conveniently had a neurologist sitting in front of me I mentioned a minor problem I've had with my feet as long as I could remember: I can't feel temperature in my feet, there's a very distinct line around my ankle where my temperature sensation starts. It's never bothered me, in fact I always thought it to be funny -- one of those random things I mention when I first meet people as a conversation starter. It's a great conversation starter. This problem bothered my chiropractor and he insisted I see a neurologist but at the time I thought it was a stupid thing to seek out a specialist for; now that I have a specialist, why not mention it? Doc asked me to slip off my shoes (true story: regardless of the time of year, you will ALWAYS catch me in slip on shoes or flip flops) and she poked and prodded and asked me a few questions. Her initial diagnosis was hereditary neuropathy, and based on my description of my foot lifestyle it's not inherently a problem but she did stress the importance of undergoing further tests if I planned on having children.

Firstly, I don't like the topic of children. Secondly, more tests?! Really?!

I'm scheduled for an electromyography (EMG) test next Friday morning and perhaps genetic testing after that (no joke). The thought of spending more time with my neurologist excites me because I like her and she's awesome, having to sit through an EMG sounds like fun and I can't wait to blog about it, but going through all of this for the sake of the kids I haven't even committed to having yet... kinda bothers me. I really don't care much for children.

OH OH OH! The best part:

Doc says to me, "So how are you doing with your weight?" and I happily responded "I'VE LOST THIRTY POUNDS" (actually, it was more like I screamed at her). She had such a positive reaction that I thought my heart was going to burst! She gave me her sincerest congratulations and told me that losing weight was the best thing I could have done for myself, and it almost made me cry to realize that she gets it. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I am eternally grateful for everyone at Mercy for not once mentioning my weight during the course of my treatment. I have a learned aversion to doctors because every time I've stepped into an office I get comments like "that would get better if you lost some weight." I've even heard that from a dentist. A dentist. Okay, great. Thanks, jackass. But in the mean time, can you be a professional and help me? Kthnx.

Back to my story... it's hard being treated by my neurologist in particular because she's attractive and obviously very smart and she's this tiny little thing... not to mention, she saw me in my panties on my fattest day ever. In real life, girls like that aren't my friends for a reason. But she's my doctor and she's the best, so naturally I HAVE TO have her. But since we broke through the very awkward barrier regarding weight early on, she's already seen me at my worst so now I get to show her my BEST. I had no shame sharing my weight with her today (I would have happily jumped on a scale, too, if she had asked) but I was absolutely shocked at the lack of "Good for you"s and "Way to go"s (I find both to be horribly condescending in almost any context). Nope, nope. She just had to knock me to the floor with her reaction.

The problem with losing weight is that people around you start commenting. Things like "Wow you look SO much better" suggest that I looked horrible before and don't do much for my self esteem. Even the tamer "Wow you look great" is still highly suggestive because looks are relative, so if I look great now what did I look like before? I ignore most of the comments these days because I'm pretty solid in the way I feel about myself, it's just best if I keep other people from entering my thoughts. But seriously, "That's the best thing you could have done for yourself" is a new one, even I hadn't thought about it that way.

I'm doing this because it's the best thing I could do for myself.

It fits in perfectly with all the other mantras I chant to myself every day. I trust my doctors with the medicine, I trust myself with this. Love.

today is gonna be the day.

That asshole groundhog predicted more winter. But you know what? I'm okay with that. BEST WINTER EVER. Thank you, Iowa and sweet Baby Jesus.

Today is the day I meet with my neuro for my three month check-up. I'm nervous. It's a good thing I was exhausted last night, or else I would have been up all night in a nervous sweat.

Two good things happened this morning:
Sex, and the scale.

263.0!!!!!

I didn't believe it, so I weighed myself twice. Still 263.0. I freaked out, screamed at my boyfriend, then ran to get my phone to take a picture to commemorate this occasion but when I stepped on the scale a third time holding my phone, it read 264.5. Which is obviously a lie. LIAR. So I can't take a picture of it myself and I'm home alone, soooooo... fuck.

But the moment happened and I'm blogging about it now to remember it forever.

Today, Thursday February 2, 2012, I have lost 10% of my body weight (starting date: October 10, 2011).



DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!?!?! Gym time.

yellow diamonds.

"There are things that are delicious that you can splurge on. There are things that are delicious that aren't a splurge at all. And then there are some things that you know aren't that good for you, but you do it every now and then because there's some kind of emotional attachment or there's some kind of historical perspective or some kind of celebration."


Too bad Mario Batali said that. Or else it would make perfect sense and I would tattoo that on my ass.




Super TMI PS - having to spray Chanel perfume on the southern hemisphere of your anatomy because you forgot to set your alarm earlier to take a shower because the gym wasn't very forgiving in the sweat department... yeah, not attractive. But I find it endlessly entertaining getting a whiff of Chance Eau Fraiche every time I go to the bathroom. True story.

we can do anything.

I was feeling reeeeeally sore yesterday pretty much from the moment I woke up. I spent the whole day at work reading beginners' guides to running feeling pretty confident that I got this under wraps, minus one thing: the rest day. The great thing about elliptical training is that it's low impact and I never feel the need to rest since my body handles the workout pretty well. But with running... ugh. Not so much.



I stepped up my speed to 3.8 and I finished a mile in 15:50! I've shaved almost a minute off my time from Monday. I know timing is a matter of belt speed when running on a treadmill, but to put things in perspective my first run was on Sunday and I can already do 32% of a 5k non-stop. GO ME.



I thought a large part of my soreness was due to the increased resistance on the elliptical (I'm now working at level 4) but yesterday's two miles were a walk in the park. I seriously contemplated going up to level 5, but since I'm not taking a rest day from running until this weekend I'm going to chill it on my zeal for the elliptical.

This is motivation. This is what gets my blood flowing. I know for other girls it's having a boyfriend (I already have one... a GREAT one at that), or fitting into nice clothes, or that really cute two piece for the summer. But for me, this is it. LAS FREAKIN' VEGAS.

When I'm about to make a bad decision, I think of Celine Dion in a mini dress. I have an entire playlist on my iPod devoted to Las Vegas inspiration (seriously, it's called "Workout Las Vegas") and it's entirely Celine Dion songs. Live, up-tempo, concert recordings of course. When I think about what I want for my life and how I'm going to motivate myself, it's Vegas that comes to mind.



After leaving the gym yesterday, I ran some errands and picked up boyfriend from work. I convinced him to make a mid-week grocery run because the sad status of the fridge was going to put me in serious food trouble if I didn't get some greenery soon. The truth is, I could feed boyfriend for WEEKS based on what we had in the freezer and pantry, but his severe dependence on processed food is a path I just can't follow.

I spent $90 on food, at least $10 of which went to chips (no joke, he bought like 5 bags of chips). But it was such a treat to open the fridge this morning to see the beautiful rainbow of fruits and veggies waiting to be eaten! I get so excited the day after we buy groceries because everything is new and fresh and it feels like the opportunities for amazing food are limitless.

For breakfast this morning I am rocking a bowl of bran flakes, vanilla yogurt and a frozen berry blend (blackberry, raspberry, blueberry) and chunks of banana. It's the sad, unfortunate reality of my medication that bananas are a staple of my diet but today I think it'll do me well (yay muscle!). For lunch I made a turkey sandwich with a slice of pepperjack cheese and lettuce on 100% whole wheat bread, with a shit load of baby carrots as a side. For mid-afternoon snacks I will be nomming an orange and a red apple and 5.5 oz of V8.

In addition to my morning food goodies, I got another surprise I wasn't expecting. The scale gods decided to have mercy on me today. 264.5. This is the first time in WEEKS that it hasn't be 266 or 268. I've been teetering around those numbers for such a long time that I was starting to believe that my scale and/or my body was broken.

Side note: caloric restriction as a diet plan will never work for me, because things like Endless Shrimp at Red Lobster are pretty much a holiday in my world.