Weight at last weigh in: 133.7kg
Current Weight: 129.7kg
Amount of saline in balloon: 1905ml
Amount added: 100ml
Amount lost since last entry: 1.1kg
Total Weight Loss to date: 4kg
So, I've been working full-time now for a little over a month, closer to 6 weeks, and I'm loving it.
There's no more sitting at home, bored out of my mind, eating everything in sight. I am eating better and more regularly. In general I'm quite happy!
The bad news is that whenever you think you are happy something or someone always comes along to ruin it. That person for me at the moment is my ex's sister. K's Aunty and I have never gotten along, since the moment we met. We've fought like cats and dogs of the years, well it's usually her causing shit and me trying to ignore her. She's the typical narcasistic personality type. Thinks everything revolves around her and her feelings. If someone says something they are 'fucking with' her or whatever. I don't even understand half the shit that gets her into a tizzy and don't care to try.
At the moment there is a big feud going on between K's dad and his sister (T) over an incident that may, or may not, have occured around 12 months ago. Long story short, K's Dad (S) told me something that he'd heard his nephew had done, T's son's (B). It was fairly disturbing to hear, especially seeing as my son is B's cousin, but I assumed she'd be a good parent and get her child the help he needed, wasn't going to hold it against the kid.
Since then, she has been up with her children many times on holiday and all the kids have played together. I've not had a problem with this at all. As I said, I assumed she had gotten B the help he needed and all was fine with the world. It's worth mentioning also that I could have gone the opposite way and refused to let K have anything to do with B, and I could have held it against the poor mite. I did not, I feel I'm a bigger person than some for not doing so.
Now, they have moved back to our town and are living only a 20 min drive away. I felt it was necessary to tell K what had happened "a long time ago" with his cousin so that a) K could watch out for B and if K noticed any odd behaviour he could feel safe in telling one of us so B can get some help before it gets out of hand and b) to protect K, letting him know that something happened, and not to get involved if B started those behaviours again.
I felt well within my rights to inform my child about something and someone that could potentially be a threat to him. I also told K that this happened a while ago so he needn't mention it, B had probably gotten help and was perfectly fine now.
K, being how he is with his ASD, blurted what I told him out to T when at her house one weekend around 3 weeks ago. T went off at K, yelling at him telling him that her son 'would never do such a thing'..... now when I heard this I was furious for 2 reasons. 1) As adults we should never EVER take our anger for another out on a child. That was despicable behaviour on her part and I will despise her more from now on because of that and 2) She's either burying her head in the sand over the "incident" or I've been told big porky pies by S. Either way, it wasn't K's fault and should never have been taken out on him.
I came home from work on Friday night to find a facebook message from her in my in-box saying
"i dont care what bull shit u tell your son but let me make this very clear u ever go around talkin shit bout my kids again and i swear ill fuck u up. how dare u go around sayin that B had **************** wtf where would u get such bullshit from. im so pissed off and dumbfounded that u can tell such lies to kaleb about his cousins. your a poor excuse of a human being and an even worse mother"
**** I have removed the details of the 'incident' to protect B. He is a child and deserves as much, especially if this said incident never occurred
For starters you can see she's none too bright just from the way she types, now there's 'txt' typing (which I use myself, but rarely) and then there's sheer idiocy and laziness...not sure which best describes her but lets move on.
Needless to say I wasn't all that impressed by this message, I'd just come home from a long day at work and had thought the whole issues was in the past. As mentioned previously, her yelling at K happened 3 weeks ago (ffs build a bridge and get over it already, I did!)
I left it for an hour, went over it again in my head. Calmed down a little, and rolled my eyes a lot, then replied
"Have you ever asked yourself why violence is always your go to threat? When has it ever helped anyone or accomplished anything to be violent? Perhaps you need to asses the way you conduct your life, you don't seem to be setting a very good example for YOUR children.
Now as to the issue with B. I can only go off what S has told me, which was that there was an incident between B and another child, ***************, if memory serves. This was from your brother, T so perhaps the issue is with him not me.
I told K because he has AUTISM T, he doesn't have the same common sense as other children, he follows along blindly with everything, is basically 3 years younger emotionally than his age, and finds it very difficult to express his feelings or stick up for himself. I wanted him to be aware that something had happened and, if anything, to watch out for B, meaning if he noticed anything to tell a parent so B can get some help if he needs it. I was being a good parent in warning my son about someone he is close to being a potential threat to him, or B himself getting into more trouble and K getting upset by seeing B in trouble.
I don't lie to my son, he doesn't believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy or God. All I did was pass along information I had been told by what I thought was a reliable source.
Now if you want to have a RATIONAL conversation about this then feel free to get in contact with me, otherwise let me return the favour and threaten you. If you EVER yell at my son like that again, making him that upset over something that appears to have been a misunderstanding (and essentially taking your anger for me out on him) I will make sure you never see K again. If I have to do that by taking S's access visits away until I can get a court order I will. I will do everything in my power to protect my child, especially from those who don't, and aren't willing to, understand his condition and limitations.
Again, if you want to have a conversation with me you know how to contact me. I will be blocking you from my facebook now. The last thing I want to have to deal with after a long day at work is finding threatening messages from you.
Cassi"
T has now gone on the offensive and started attacking S, telling him he'll never see his niece and nephew again etc and he is blaming this all on me because I opened my 'fat mouth'. I don't see this as being anything I've done at all. If S has told a lie, then it's his fault. I had every right to inform my son about a potential threat to his safety, no matter who it is. If it did happen then T is denying it and she needs help to be a better parent coz pretending something never happened isn't healthy or helpful to anyone, especially not B!
I suspect though it's all been a big misunderstanding... he said, she said type thing.
S came very close to hitting me last night too, he's that upset about the issue, and I can tell you now if he had hit me then he'd never have seen his son again. A man hits me once and only once, I don't stick around to give him the chance to do it again. Not to mention I know my son, he wouldn't have wanted anything to do with his Dad any more either. S is upset at the wrong person. This is shit for him and his sister to sort out, but it's easier to blame me than it is to take responsibility and admit that either he's lied or that his sister is a crack pot.Shifting blame is just shirking responsibility.
I've written her a 5 page letter, explaining most of what I've written here, with a few more personal touches and details thrown in.
I'm letting the dust settle for a few days before I send it and hope they can sort their shit out. I will have done all I am willing to do to resolve the matter and I don't want to hear another word about it after that.
If I never see her again it'll be too soon.
Now after all that we come to the part about my bad habits rearing their ugly heads. With all this drama I've found I've been wanting to comfort eat more, but now that I've FINALLY made it under 130kg (applause please!) I've been trying to be 'good' about it. I've been substituting my normal sugary/chocolaty comfort foods with fruit, salad and veggies and I've been really enjoying it, especially the fruit! But tonight, I think I spent too much time dwelling on the issue and before I knew it I was leaving the supermarket with a packet of chocolate freckles!
I wanted to go for a long walk tonight, but circumstances just weren't in my favour. My son being a pain, me being cranky and my stomach being full of chocolate, which just made me feel guilty and more cranky so I had a small tantrum (half way around the block from home) and turned us around and came home.
I really need to get my comfort eating under control, it's something that kicks in with me, like auto-pilot. I get upset, I get chocolate and chocolate makes me feel better....until I realise I've eaten a whole block on my own and I feel guilty and upset again...then eat more chocolate to comfort myself! It's a big loop of emotional torture, and it doesn't make any sense either, I get that...you are probably all saying 'just don't eat the chocolate'. If you have the ability to do that then you don't have the same issues as I do and can't fully appreciate the magnitude of it. If you are nodding your head (either physically or metaphorically) to what I'm writing then you do can appreciate where I am coming from....any helpful suggestions would be GREATLY APPRECIATED! lol
xoxox Cassi
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
18 Month Clinic Check-up
Weight at last weigh in: 134.8kg
Current Weight: 133.7kg
Amount of saline in balloon: 1905ml
Amount added: 100ml
Amount lost since last entry: 1.1kg
Total Weight Loss to date: 18.7kg
So, today saw me back at the Clinic for my 18 month check up.
I've been unwell the past few days so I was not looking forward to leaving the house, but once I got in the car I resigned myself to just getting it over with so I could get back home and sleep some more!
I arrived in plenty of time, as usual, and took my seat to wait for my appointments. I usually expect to be kept waiting at least 20-30 minutes, so I always bring my iPod and my latest crochet project. Today I was finishing off a cute newsboy cap, in a lovely fluffy green yarn I scored on sale at Spotlight a few weeks ago, and ended up waiting so long that I was done with all I could do on it before I was even called.
Eventually though, Tarryn came out and called me into Warren's office, and followed me in. I very quickly grasped the idea that they were doing sessions together now...which they explained to me once we sat down. I had no problem with that at all, it seems a lot more efficient to me and I love efficiency!
We spoke about what more I can do, exercise and food wise, and in general were happy with me...they usually are. I hopped on the scales and found I'd lost 1kg since the last time they weighed me there. Taking into account the fact that I was wearing jeans and sneakers I reckon we really should have taken an extra kilogram off my weight for the weight of my clothes alone! But no, they don't do that...even though I secretly do!
Once I was done with them I went out and saw Michelle the nurse. She took all my measurements, asked me the routine questions about my medications, pain, nausea, reflux and food intake.
We spoke again about my fears that my balloon has moved and she agreed to ask Dr Layani about whether he thinks a follow up MRI just to check on it would be worth it. I'm hoping he does. I want to know how spot on my assumptions are, or completely off base (I'm not afraid to admit I could be wrong, I just don't think I am)
We discussed the fact that it might still be doing it's job, just moved slightly into a more comfortable position. I don't like this idea. I liked it better when I knew exactly where it was, and what it was doing because I could feel it whenever I consciously thought of it. Sure, it made lying on my stomach almost impossible but I knew where I stood. The Balloon and I had an understanding.
I don't like all this limbo, there's no communication between us unless I eat way too much, and then I fell like my liver is being restricted equally as much as my stomach. Not good people. Not good.
Michelle gave me a 100ml adjustment, to see if that helped any with my restriction. I hope like hell it does because now I'm only 20ml away from my maximum capacity.
Well, that was the highlight of my day today.
I came home and hopped into bed, haven't moved since. I write this to you, from my laptop computer whilst laying on my bed. It's only 8pm and I'm considering going to sleep!
I need to get well. One more day off work and I'm back to it, well or ill I will be there.
Wish me luck!
PS How are all of you going?
PPS Please feel free to ask me any questions at all...doesn't even need to be about the trial! I'll answer any and all questions with honesty.
PPPS I also did an update vlog for youtube today. Here it is
Current Weight: 133.7kg
Amount of saline in balloon: 1905ml
Amount added: 100ml
Amount lost since last entry: 1.1kg
Total Weight Loss to date: 18.7kg
So, today saw me back at the Clinic for my 18 month check up.
I've been unwell the past few days so I was not looking forward to leaving the house, but once I got in the car I resigned myself to just getting it over with so I could get back home and sleep some more!
I arrived in plenty of time, as usual, and took my seat to wait for my appointments. I usually expect to be kept waiting at least 20-30 minutes, so I always bring my iPod and my latest crochet project. Today I was finishing off a cute newsboy cap, in a lovely fluffy green yarn I scored on sale at Spotlight a few weeks ago, and ended up waiting so long that I was done with all I could do on it before I was even called.
Eventually though, Tarryn came out and called me into Warren's office, and followed me in. I very quickly grasped the idea that they were doing sessions together now...which they explained to me once we sat down. I had no problem with that at all, it seems a lot more efficient to me and I love efficiency!
We spoke about what more I can do, exercise and food wise, and in general were happy with me...they usually are. I hopped on the scales and found I'd lost 1kg since the last time they weighed me there. Taking into account the fact that I was wearing jeans and sneakers I reckon we really should have taken an extra kilogram off my weight for the weight of my clothes alone! But no, they don't do that...even though I secretly do!
Once I was done with them I went out and saw Michelle the nurse. She took all my measurements, asked me the routine questions about my medications, pain, nausea, reflux and food intake.
We spoke again about my fears that my balloon has moved and she agreed to ask Dr Layani about whether he thinks a follow up MRI just to check on it would be worth it. I'm hoping he does. I want to know how spot on my assumptions are, or completely off base (I'm not afraid to admit I could be wrong, I just don't think I am)
We discussed the fact that it might still be doing it's job, just moved slightly into a more comfortable position. I don't like this idea. I liked it better when I knew exactly where it was, and what it was doing because I could feel it whenever I consciously thought of it. Sure, it made lying on my stomach almost impossible but I knew where I stood. The Balloon and I had an understanding.
I don't like all this limbo, there's no communication between us unless I eat way too much, and then I fell like my liver is being restricted equally as much as my stomach. Not good people. Not good.
Michelle gave me a 100ml adjustment, to see if that helped any with my restriction. I hope like hell it does because now I'm only 20ml away from my maximum capacity.
Well, that was the highlight of my day today.
I came home and hopped into bed, haven't moved since. I write this to you, from my laptop computer whilst laying on my bed. It's only 8pm and I'm considering going to sleep!
I need to get well. One more day off work and I'm back to it, well or ill I will be there.
Wish me luck!
PS How are all of you going?
PPS Please feel free to ask me any questions at all...doesn't even need to be about the trial! I'll answer any and all questions with honesty.
PPPS I also did an update vlog for youtube today. Here it is
 |
| 1996, Age 14. What a tomboy and rebel I was! |
New job and food struggles
*** DISCLAIMER*** This post was written a while back, a few weeks actually. I didn't feel it was finished yet so didn't publish it, but I've come to realise it is done. I've published it so I can write another, more recent blog update. That is why it will appear that I've written both of these on the same day! Enjoy, comment and rate!
So, thanks to a good friend, I now have a job! It's been well over 10 years since I had a job that lasted more than 3 day max. and it feels good to be a part of the work force again.
There are many reasons behind my absence from working life, the main one being my son and his special needs. When he was 18 months old I put him into Day Care 3 days a week, with the intention of getting a part time job. Two weeks into looking for said job it became apparent that I wouldn't be able to work. The day care providers would call me on my mobile almost every day that he was there, asking if I could come and settle him down, that they couldn't handle him, or asking me to just come and collect him outright because he was too upset. I realised that it wouldn't be fair to any employer for me to be taking off all the time, or at the very least taking calls from the day care all the time, and I'd probably soon lose any job I acquired so I resigned myself to the job of being a single parent, trying to survive on what little money we got from the government.
Years passed and Kaleb was finally in school full time. This, I thought, was the perfect time to get back into the work force so I set out looking for a job. Everywhere I applied, however, would take one look at my resume, which then had a 7 year gap in employment, and wouldn't even consider me for any position. I got a lot of rejection from employers with the main reason sighted as 'you have no recent experience'. Now, would someone please explain to me how I am to get any recent experience if no-one will employ me? It was a constant catch-22 loop that I couldn't get out of! It was also very frustrating, and I will be the first to admit that I gave up completely for a while there. There is only so much rejection one can take before you give up entirely.
Long story short, I met T through this blog actually. He's told me that when he was at home recovering from his balloon implant surgery that he googled it and came across my blog, then proceeded to sit down and read it all the way through! He then found me through Facebook and added me as a friend. Now this is where it comes down to a case of 'that was lucky'. I don't usually add people on Facebook unless I already know them or they write me a note with their friend request telling me how they found me and why I should add them. T didn't fit either of those categories but for some reason I still added him. To this day I still don't know why, but boy am I glad I did.
At first we chatted a little via private message and I was very wary. I've been burned so many times by new people (and old friends) that I'm now very hesitant of letting anyone new into my life, so when early on T suggested myself and my son come over for dinner one night with himself, his wife and kids alarm bells were ringing in my head. I admit I avoided him for a little while after that, and I believe I even told him that I just needed time to get to know him a bit better first.
Long story short, 5 or 6 months passed and I finally felt comfortable enough to meet T and his Family. He arranged for us to be able to go to Australia Zoo for the day, which was awesome coz I'd always wanted to take K and never been able to afford it. We had an excellent day, hit it off and became fast friends. I love his kids & wife and kick myself often that I didn't swallow my issues all those months ago and just meet them sooner!
And now, I have a job working for T. As a friend he is awesome...as a boss....well he's also awesome but can be a hard ass. I understand that though, our work relationship is different to our friendship but some days it is hard to separate the two relationships.
I am loving working, but I don't think my body is loving me for it. Lately I've been picking up every little illness that crosses my path. First it was gastro and then some sort of lung/throat thing that I think I've managed to escape the worst of! It's even worse because I am already sick, and have been for the past 12 months. I got a really bad lung infection, that lasted months no matter what my doctor gave me to get rid of it. In the end it took two courses of heavy duty anti-biotics (the kind they use to treat malaria!) to get rid of it. My blood work though continues to mimic that of someone really unwell. My white cell count is through the roof and no matter how much iron I take I'm constantly anaemic. My doctor has not been impressed with my blood work at all for a while now, and every 6-8 weeks I get some kind of illness. Usually laryngitis/pharyngitis, lung infection or sinus infection. It then takes me 2-4 weeks to get over on my own, or 2 weeks if I take anti-biotics (which I don't like doing because it seems my immune system is already shot to hell!)
So I've gone about 10 weeks without getting any illness now, and I got 2 in one week! It sucks big time, coz I want to go to work! You find most people pull sickies to get out of work, where as I have to take sickies and hate it coz I do want to work! It's also not fair on my boss or co-workers, which makes me feel emotionally sick in addition to the physical sickness coz I know I'm letting them down and there's nothing I can do about it. I really wish there was a magic pill I could take to fix me, but sadly there doesn't seem to be.
My doctor has sent me for so many tests to try and work out what is wrong with me I'm not sure there are any left that she can do! I've had so much blood taken I could probably have saved 3 lives with it by now, I've had Xray's, MRI's and fluoroscopes ( these are in addition to the ones I have for the balloon trial! I'm surprised I don't glow from all the radiation!) and my doctor continues to monitor my blood work on a monthly basis. Every time it appears that I am on the mend, my white cell count goes back up! Half the time I appear completely well, apart from the occasional migraine, constant fatigue and joint stiffness.
Anyhoo, enough of my baffling medical issues ( heaven knows I've had enough of it!) and lets get onto my food struggles.
Since starting work I've been finding it very difficult to motivate myself to cook, well anything really. The last thing I want to do once I collect K from either his Dad's or Vacation Care is cook a meal. I envy most men and single women (childless) the fact that they can mostly just come home from work and do what they want. Me, I have to deal with Kaleb which is especially trying if he's in a foul mood, I have to do laundry, dishes, tidying up etc because you can't just leave it for another day when you have children, it needs to be done or 'they' take your kids off you!!! I don't get to kick off my shoes, sit down and do nothing. I have to organise dinner, showers, clothes, dishes, lunches and make sure we both have clean socks and undies! Most nights we have takeaway for the sheer convenience of it. I don't have to cook it or clean up the dishes afterwards. I don't have to listen to K complain about the food and I don't have to force feed him.
This also means though, that I've put on weight! Now that I'm working out of the house most of the day and not eating constantly (actually drinking a heap more water too!) I should, theoretically, be losing more weight right? Well, no. Actually I've gained 6kg. I can put some of that down to muscle gain, maybe, but the majority of it is from not eating right and not exercising at all. The very LAST thing I feel like doing when I finish work is going for a walk or a run. Usually my feet and legs are so sore and swollen that once I sit down of a night, I find it very difficult to get back up! Also, it's the last thing I want to do on my days off either! I use those days to get on top of some of my domestic duties and relax!
I do try to take my lunch to work with me, and most days it's something pretty healthy eg. salad wrap, left over stir fry or lasagne etc but there has been a lot of days where I've just bought my lunch from the cafe across the way. Now I do try and keep that healthy, a chicken salad roll etc but I LOVE their cheesecake and chicken burgers!
Heaven help me, but my sweet tooth is back...and she brought friends along with her!!!!
So, thanks to a good friend, I now have a job! It's been well over 10 years since I had a job that lasted more than 3 day max. and it feels good to be a part of the work force again.
There are many reasons behind my absence from working life, the main one being my son and his special needs. When he was 18 months old I put him into Day Care 3 days a week, with the intention of getting a part time job. Two weeks into looking for said job it became apparent that I wouldn't be able to work. The day care providers would call me on my mobile almost every day that he was there, asking if I could come and settle him down, that they couldn't handle him, or asking me to just come and collect him outright because he was too upset. I realised that it wouldn't be fair to any employer for me to be taking off all the time, or at the very least taking calls from the day care all the time, and I'd probably soon lose any job I acquired so I resigned myself to the job of being a single parent, trying to survive on what little money we got from the government.
Years passed and Kaleb was finally in school full time. This, I thought, was the perfect time to get back into the work force so I set out looking for a job. Everywhere I applied, however, would take one look at my resume, which then had a 7 year gap in employment, and wouldn't even consider me for any position. I got a lot of rejection from employers with the main reason sighted as 'you have no recent experience'. Now, would someone please explain to me how I am to get any recent experience if no-one will employ me? It was a constant catch-22 loop that I couldn't get out of! It was also very frustrating, and I will be the first to admit that I gave up completely for a while there. There is only so much rejection one can take before you give up entirely.
Long story short, I met T through this blog actually. He's told me that when he was at home recovering from his balloon implant surgery that he googled it and came across my blog, then proceeded to sit down and read it all the way through! He then found me through Facebook and added me as a friend. Now this is where it comes down to a case of 'that was lucky'. I don't usually add people on Facebook unless I already know them or they write me a note with their friend request telling me how they found me and why I should add them. T didn't fit either of those categories but for some reason I still added him. To this day I still don't know why, but boy am I glad I did.
At first we chatted a little via private message and I was very wary. I've been burned so many times by new people (and old friends) that I'm now very hesitant of letting anyone new into my life, so when early on T suggested myself and my son come over for dinner one night with himself, his wife and kids alarm bells were ringing in my head. I admit I avoided him for a little while after that, and I believe I even told him that I just needed time to get to know him a bit better first.
Long story short, 5 or 6 months passed and I finally felt comfortable enough to meet T and his Family. He arranged for us to be able to go to Australia Zoo for the day, which was awesome coz I'd always wanted to take K and never been able to afford it. We had an excellent day, hit it off and became fast friends. I love his kids & wife and kick myself often that I didn't swallow my issues all those months ago and just meet them sooner!
And now, I have a job working for T. As a friend he is awesome...as a boss....well he's also awesome but can be a hard ass. I understand that though, our work relationship is different to our friendship but some days it is hard to separate the two relationships.
I am loving working, but I don't think my body is loving me for it. Lately I've been picking up every little illness that crosses my path. First it was gastro and then some sort of lung/throat thing that I think I've managed to escape the worst of! It's even worse because I am already sick, and have been for the past 12 months. I got a really bad lung infection, that lasted months no matter what my doctor gave me to get rid of it. In the end it took two courses of heavy duty anti-biotics (the kind they use to treat malaria!) to get rid of it. My blood work though continues to mimic that of someone really unwell. My white cell count is through the roof and no matter how much iron I take I'm constantly anaemic. My doctor has not been impressed with my blood work at all for a while now, and every 6-8 weeks I get some kind of illness. Usually laryngitis/pharyngitis, lung infection or sinus infection. It then takes me 2-4 weeks to get over on my own, or 2 weeks if I take anti-biotics (which I don't like doing because it seems my immune system is already shot to hell!)
So I've gone about 10 weeks without getting any illness now, and I got 2 in one week! It sucks big time, coz I want to go to work! You find most people pull sickies to get out of work, where as I have to take sickies and hate it coz I do want to work! It's also not fair on my boss or co-workers, which makes me feel emotionally sick in addition to the physical sickness coz I know I'm letting them down and there's nothing I can do about it. I really wish there was a magic pill I could take to fix me, but sadly there doesn't seem to be.
My doctor has sent me for so many tests to try and work out what is wrong with me I'm not sure there are any left that she can do! I've had so much blood taken I could probably have saved 3 lives with it by now, I've had Xray's, MRI's and fluoroscopes ( these are in addition to the ones I have for the balloon trial! I'm surprised I don't glow from all the radiation!) and my doctor continues to monitor my blood work on a monthly basis. Every time it appears that I am on the mend, my white cell count goes back up! Half the time I appear completely well, apart from the occasional migraine, constant fatigue and joint stiffness.
Anyhoo, enough of my baffling medical issues ( heaven knows I've had enough of it!) and lets get onto my food struggles.
Since starting work I've been finding it very difficult to motivate myself to cook, well anything really. The last thing I want to do once I collect K from either his Dad's or Vacation Care is cook a meal. I envy most men and single women (childless) the fact that they can mostly just come home from work and do what they want. Me, I have to deal with Kaleb which is especially trying if he's in a foul mood, I have to do laundry, dishes, tidying up etc because you can't just leave it for another day when you have children, it needs to be done or 'they' take your kids off you!!! I don't get to kick off my shoes, sit down and do nothing. I have to organise dinner, showers, clothes, dishes, lunches and make sure we both have clean socks and undies! Most nights we have takeaway for the sheer convenience of it. I don't have to cook it or clean up the dishes afterwards. I don't have to listen to K complain about the food and I don't have to force feed him.
This also means though, that I've put on weight! Now that I'm working out of the house most of the day and not eating constantly (actually drinking a heap more water too!) I should, theoretically, be losing more weight right? Well, no. Actually I've gained 6kg. I can put some of that down to muscle gain, maybe, but the majority of it is from not eating right and not exercising at all. The very LAST thing I feel like doing when I finish work is going for a walk or a run. Usually my feet and legs are so sore and swollen that once I sit down of a night, I find it very difficult to get back up! Also, it's the last thing I want to do on my days off either! I use those days to get on top of some of my domestic duties and relax!
I do try to take my lunch to work with me, and most days it's something pretty healthy eg. salad wrap, left over stir fry or lasagne etc but there has been a lot of days where I've just bought my lunch from the cafe across the way. Now I do try and keep that healthy, a chicken salad roll etc but I LOVE their cheesecake and chicken burgers!
Heaven help me, but my sweet tooth is back...and she brought friends along with her!!!!
 |
| 2010 Work Xmas Costume Party . I went as a 'Goth' |
Friday, October 22, 2010
There are only 2 things you can do....
Weight at last weigh in: 133.1kg
Current Weight: 135kg
Amount of saline in balloon : 1800ml
Amount added: 190ml
Amount lost since last entry: 0kg, gained 1.9kg
Total Weight Loss to date: 17.4kg
There are only 2 things you can do if you over eat with a balloon....
1) Make yourself throw up to alleviate the pain/discomfort
2) Wait it out
I've never done number 1. Hell, I tried to throw up in order to lose weight once. I didn't much care for it. Plus it seemed a waste of good food and I've always loved food too much to waste it.
Waiting it out SUCKS!
Now I hear you asking 'But why did you over eat? You should have stopped earlier'
Yes, this is true. There are many explanations as to why I didn't. Most times it comes down to eating too quickly. You see there is a delay in the message from our stomach to our brain telling us we are full. We are meant to eat slowly so that our brain has a chance to keep up with the delay and tell us when we are full.
Another factor, for me anyway, is bread-type foods. Bread absorbs liquid, if you've ever made French toast you will know this well. Now if I eat a moderate amount of something with bread in it eg hamburger, pizza, sandwich etc and then have a drink the bread absorbs the liquid, swells and becomes more dense. I can't judge how much the bread is going to swell, nor can I judge how much space for expansion I have in my stomach. It's kind of a hit or miss thing. Sometimes I'm ok, I just feel well satisfied and don't get hungry again for a few hours, if not longer. More often than not though, I end up experiencing a large amount of discomfort for at least an hour or two.
Tonight, however, I can't blame either of the above reasons. Tonight is one of those 'I was bored and felt like eating' nights.
I spent 2 hours this afternoon cooking dinner and dessert. Lasagne and Lemon Meringue Pie. The lasagne was actually on the healthy side, for once. I made the meat sauce with lean lamb mince and added carrot, spinach and fresh herbs. The cheese sauce was made with low fat tasty cheese. I also used a paper towel to mop up the oil from the melted cheese once it came out of the oven!
The lemon meringue pie has heaps of sugar in it and lets face it probably a ton of fat too! But it was yum, a little on the tart side (maybe I needed more sugar in the end!).
So I had my moderately sized piece of lasagne, about the same size as my 9yr old has, and ate that. 20mins passed and we had a piece of the pie each, mine was perhaps 5cm wide at the base (cut from a circular pie).
Quite content with that belly full of food, felt a little discomfort but not too much, I went to drop my son at his Dads. When I came home I watched a few TV shows......and got bored! I remembered how absolutely awesome the lasagne had been and wanted more, whether I could fit it in or not.
So now I am paying for my crime by feeling quite full and sore. I'm trying hard not to move too much and I'm sitting up super straight. If only my 3rd grade teacher could see me now, she was always ragging on me for my poor posture! Sitting up straight like this helps take the pressure off my stomach. I think it stops me from squashing the balloon into my stomach more.
I'll be sitting like this until the discomfort passes. I hope it won't take too long.
I've stolen an idea from B, another blogger that I follow, who also has the balloon implant. She's been posting photo's of herself from her past at the bottom of her posts. I loved that idea, and whilst I don't have many (I've always avoided photo's, no matter my actual weight coz Bertha always said I was fat so why get in a photo!)
So here is another of me, and I hope you don't mind me stealing your idea B?! xoxox
Current Weight: 135kg
Amount of saline in balloon : 1800ml
Amount added: 190ml
Amount lost since last entry: 0kg, gained 1.9kg
Total Weight Loss to date: 17.4kg
There are only 2 things you can do if you over eat with a balloon....
1) Make yourself throw up to alleviate the pain/discomfort
2) Wait it out
I've never done number 1. Hell, I tried to throw up in order to lose weight once. I didn't much care for it. Plus it seemed a waste of good food and I've always loved food too much to waste it.
Waiting it out SUCKS!
Now I hear you asking 'But why did you over eat? You should have stopped earlier'
Yes, this is true. There are many explanations as to why I didn't. Most times it comes down to eating too quickly. You see there is a delay in the message from our stomach to our brain telling us we are full. We are meant to eat slowly so that our brain has a chance to keep up with the delay and tell us when we are full.
Another factor, for me anyway, is bread-type foods. Bread absorbs liquid, if you've ever made French toast you will know this well. Now if I eat a moderate amount of something with bread in it eg hamburger, pizza, sandwich etc and then have a drink the bread absorbs the liquid, swells and becomes more dense. I can't judge how much the bread is going to swell, nor can I judge how much space for expansion I have in my stomach. It's kind of a hit or miss thing. Sometimes I'm ok, I just feel well satisfied and don't get hungry again for a few hours, if not longer. More often than not though, I end up experiencing a large amount of discomfort for at least an hour or two.
Tonight, however, I can't blame either of the above reasons. Tonight is one of those 'I was bored and felt like eating' nights.
I spent 2 hours this afternoon cooking dinner and dessert. Lasagne and Lemon Meringue Pie. The lasagne was actually on the healthy side, for once. I made the meat sauce with lean lamb mince and added carrot, spinach and fresh herbs. The cheese sauce was made with low fat tasty cheese. I also used a paper towel to mop up the oil from the melted cheese once it came out of the oven!
The lemon meringue pie has heaps of sugar in it and lets face it probably a ton of fat too! But it was yum, a little on the tart side (maybe I needed more sugar in the end!).
So I had my moderately sized piece of lasagne, about the same size as my 9yr old has, and ate that. 20mins passed and we had a piece of the pie each, mine was perhaps 5cm wide at the base (cut from a circular pie).
Quite content with that belly full of food, felt a little discomfort but not too much, I went to drop my son at his Dads. When I came home I watched a few TV shows......and got bored! I remembered how absolutely awesome the lasagne had been and wanted more, whether I could fit it in or not.
So now I am paying for my crime by feeling quite full and sore. I'm trying hard not to move too much and I'm sitting up super straight. If only my 3rd grade teacher could see me now, she was always ragging on me for my poor posture! Sitting up straight like this helps take the pressure off my stomach. I think it stops me from squashing the balloon into my stomach more.
I'll be sitting like this until the discomfort passes. I hope it won't take too long.
I've stolen an idea from B, another blogger that I follow, who also has the balloon implant. She's been posting photo's of herself from her past at the bottom of her posts. I loved that idea, and whilst I don't have many (I've always avoided photo's, no matter my actual weight coz Bertha always said I was fat so why get in a photo!)
So here is another of me, and I hope you don't mind me stealing your idea B?! xoxox
 |
| ex bf N and I. 14.5 yrs, 70kg. |
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
If I move on, what will I have left?
Since my post yesterday, I've been thinking. If I somehow managed to move on from all the anger I have about my upbringing and life, what will I have left? If I magically work up tomorrow morning and all that crap was just neatly boxed up and put aside would I even have any emotions left?
I've come to realise that all the shit that happened, happened to make me who I am today.
I have an over active imagination, I'm always writing stories or playing out make-believe scenario's in my head. Sometimes I sit at my desk for a solid 10 minutes living out imaginary scenes/conversations in my mind, I'm not sure if this behaviour entitles me to a bed in the nearest Mental Ward or not, but some days I feel as though it should.
So one day I was sitting, somewhere, - I'm always sitting...it's never 'I was running and this idea came to me' lol. I don't run!....anyhoo. I was sitting and I thought to myself, 'Self, if you could go back in time, to any moment in your past and change one thing, what would it be?'
Going back to when I was 13, and deciding not to move in with my Dad. That's what I thought I'd change. Then I realised, that would mean I'd have been stuck with my Mum for longer and been even MORE miserable and probably never would have met my now ex, Shannon, and not have had my beautiful son. Kaleb is my reason for living, literally. If I didn't have him I know I would have killed myself by now. I'd have had nothing to live for, Bertha would have succeeded long ago at breaking me completely. Lord knows she's almost won before. I have the scars, both mental and physical, to prove it.
Ok, so maybe I do move in with my Dad but maybe I don't listen to him when he calls me fat. Maybe I ignore him and believe I'm hot and skinny. If only that were what I did at the time.
The possibilities are endless, but at the end of the day, the fact is that if I changed just one thing in my past, I wouldn't be where I am today. Things could have been a lot worse. So I try to appreciate that my past has made me who I am today.
I used to go to bed at night and pray with all my might, whilst crying hysterically, that I'd wake up and be skinny. God never answered my prayers, I've since realised this is because God doesn't exist. But that's for another entry, on a different blog.
I have done all manner of things to myself, looking back on which make me realise I really was hanging onto my sanity by a thread. I have written all over my face, in black eyeliner, disparaging words like 'Fat', 'ugly', 'worthless' etc (Re: Realisation).
I have burnt myself, cut myself, attempted to kill myself by suffocation, over dose, (considered) driving off a cliff and once I nearly stepped out in front of a truck. The only thing that stopped me from mangling myself on the front of that truck, was thinking about how the truck driver would feel knowing he was the death of me, even though I wanted to die.
I have scars up both of my forearms, inner and outer, from cutting myself. I have burn scars from matches and lighters, all self inflicted. I have a scar, just under my hairline on my forehead from where I bashed my head, repeatedly, into a glass sliding door until it broke my skin open.
I have hated myself for so long I'm not sure I know how not to hate myself.
Now that's not entirely true, I love myself as a person.
When my son was 16 months old I left QLD and moved back to WA, lured by my Mother's promises of more support and help with Kaleb than I was currently getting from Shannon. So off I went, and stayed just over 2 years. In the end it wasn't all my mother had promised. I was surrounded by my family, yet I'd go weeks, sometimes months, without seeing any of them or even getting a phone call from them. So in the end I was sick and tired of being alone and moved back to QLD, also so Kaleb could have a relationship with his Dad. Which is as important, if not more-so.
The point is, that being in WA did teach me something. It taught me that I only have myself to rely on. It also helped me to get in touch with the real me. For years I wasn't true to myself. I had what I call 'masks' that I put on for the different people in my life, different masks for what I perceived they expected from me. The real me would hide behind these masks, hoping and praying that the people in my life wouldn't see me for who I really was because I just knew they wouldn't accept me. They'd shun me and disown me. I have a very judgemental family. (Re: Realisation again, poem called 'Mask')
So I would pretend to be virtuous and Righteous (in the biblical sense) for my Dad. Manipulative and sneaky for my Mum. Demur, timid and obedient for Shannon and a myriad of other things for other people, but never my true self.
During my 2 years in WA I 'found' myself. The real me. I learned to love who I was and accept myself. I stopped caring if other accepted me or not. I learnt that I am funny, loyal, passionate, creative, caring, kind, bi-curious, open-mined and understanding. I have slight OCD and I'm controlling. I like to have things my own way. I'm impatient and restless. I like to watch weird porn. I have fantasies that aren't socially acceptable. I don't suffer fools well. I will be the best friend you could hope for, as long as it's an equal friendship. If you take advantage of me or piss me off one time too many I will cut you from my life without a backwards glance. I can put up with a lot of shit, but I will not be your door-mat.
I no longer care what people think of me. I discovered my new life motto which is;
"I am who I am, take me or leave me, don't try to change me coz you won't succeed. I have to live with myself everyday, not you, so I'm going be true to myself. If you can't appreciate me for who and what I am, then you don't deserve me."
Whilst I love myself as a person, and know I am awesome, I hate my body and my general lack of motivation to do anything about my weight. Bertha is constantly telling me I'm lazy and useless. She also loves to make excuses for me not to exercise. They vary from minor body aches and pains to the weather and which socks are clean at the moment. Oh and of course if my iPod is charged or not. There is no exercise without music.
Bertha does have a slightly nice side though. I know her 'nice' comments are aimed to hurt me elsewhere though, like she tells me I deserve to rest and relax because I expend so much energy dealing with Kaleb on a daily basis. But this is in lieu of exercise. I think to myself that I want to (or rather should) go for a walk and Bertha whispers 'but Kaleb was such a handful this morning, it took you 30 minutes just to get him settled enough to get dressed for school. You deserve to sit down for the rest of the day and just veg'. It's hard not to listen to her, especially when I really don't want to exercise. It's not my favourite activity, whereas sitting on my ass at the computer is! More and more I am realising I want a lap-band. So I can sit and bludge and still lose weight. Or rather, do a minimal amount of exercise and still lose weight.
Here's something that terrifies me. I have 54kg left to lose to get to my goal weight. And that's my goal, not the 'ideal' weight for my height. I challenge you to stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself you have 54kg to lose and not break down. This time last year I had 74kg to lose, now I acknowledge 54kg is a lot less scary than 74kg, but it's still daunting as hell.
I have to apologise, this post is jumping all over the place with my random thoughts. I'm in the mood to share today and it doesn't always come out in a smooth chronological order.
My eating habits have gone way off the charts of late. I'm quite disappointed with myself in that regard. For about the first 12 months after my surgery I wasn't at all interested in sweet foods. Whereas before I could consume a massive bowl of icecream with all the trimmings (mini m&m's, mini marshmallows and a thick coating of Ice Magic) I could no longer stand more than 1 scoop of plain vanilla icecream, and forget about chocolate. Pre-surgery a full 200g block of Cadbury's would reside in my stomach within 20 minutes of breaking the foil. Post-surgery I was content with 1 line of it and I'd put it away. PUT IT AWAY PEOPLE!!! That was seriously unheard of for me. Also Icecream would sit in the freezer for weeks, if not months. Pre-surgery Icecream was replenished weekly, if not bi-weekly.
Instead of sweets I craved spicy foods. Curry's were a fave and everything had to have sweet chilli sauce with it, or at the very least cayenne pepper. I was seriously using cayenne pepper in lieu of regular black pepper and eating jalapeno's by the jar. Nowadays my sweet tooth is back with a passion. I spent $40 at the confectionery warehouse in Brisbane just over a week ago and we literally have none of those lollies left. I bought a 1.3kg bag of Allen's Strawberries & Cream, among other things, and as of this morning, thanks in most part to Kaleb, they are gone. I originally went there to buy 2 things only, for a cooking project, which would have come to a total of $10.
I can't seem to stop myself eating sweets. I really, really crave them. I know it's only head hunger, and I've gotten better at ignoring it, but I am always searching for something sweet to nibble on.
I've also fallen off the wagon with buying low fat foods. Last week when I went grocery shopping I bought regular tasty cheese, instead of low fat, and full cream milk instead of lite. I switched to lite milk over 18 months ago, so I suppose it's not such a huge deal that I bought full cream this one time, but I plan to do it again. That's what scares me. I don't intend on going back to lite milk or lite cheese. I'm sick of crappy tasting food.
In my video blogs I'm always talking about changing my lifestyle, and I have/did. I changed everything I could over to the 'lite' version. I got in to the habit of exercising regularly, even if I hate it. I make better food choices when out. I always remember to ask for a skinny cappuccino/latte when having a coffee with friends. I'm just over it at the moment. I want to have a break. I want to eat normal food like it won't make me fat again. I'm avoiding the scales again too. I'm drinking at least 9L of coke a week, on my own. My skin is itching again as well, like it does when it's stretching and I'm going to get more stretch marks.
I know I need to get back to the low fat foods, and I will. Just not now.
My goal this week is to find and attend a Zumba class. I promised Warren I'd try. I promised myself I'd try. I think I've made Warren my surrogate. I use him to reflect myself. I don't see him as this guy who's pushing me to do things I don't want to, and have no desire to do. I see him as myself, telling me what I need to do to be happier, healthier and skinnier. So when I make a promise to Warren, I'm making a promise to myself and to not follow through on that promise would be to cheat myself. What person would knowingly cheat themselves?
I've come to realise that all the shit that happened, happened to make me who I am today.
I have an over active imagination, I'm always writing stories or playing out make-believe scenario's in my head. Sometimes I sit at my desk for a solid 10 minutes living out imaginary scenes/conversations in my mind, I'm not sure if this behaviour entitles me to a bed in the nearest Mental Ward or not, but some days I feel as though it should.
So one day I was sitting, somewhere, - I'm always sitting...it's never 'I was running and this idea came to me' lol. I don't run!....anyhoo. I was sitting and I thought to myself, 'Self, if you could go back in time, to any moment in your past and change one thing, what would it be?'
Going back to when I was 13, and deciding not to move in with my Dad. That's what I thought I'd change. Then I realised, that would mean I'd have been stuck with my Mum for longer and been even MORE miserable and probably never would have met my now ex, Shannon, and not have had my beautiful son. Kaleb is my reason for living, literally. If I didn't have him I know I would have killed myself by now. I'd have had nothing to live for, Bertha would have succeeded long ago at breaking me completely. Lord knows she's almost won before. I have the scars, both mental and physical, to prove it.
Ok, so maybe I do move in with my Dad but maybe I don't listen to him when he calls me fat. Maybe I ignore him and believe I'm hot and skinny. If only that were what I did at the time.
The possibilities are endless, but at the end of the day, the fact is that if I changed just one thing in my past, I wouldn't be where I am today. Things could have been a lot worse. So I try to appreciate that my past has made me who I am today.
I used to go to bed at night and pray with all my might, whilst crying hysterically, that I'd wake up and be skinny. God never answered my prayers, I've since realised this is because God doesn't exist. But that's for another entry, on a different blog.
I have done all manner of things to myself, looking back on which make me realise I really was hanging onto my sanity by a thread. I have written all over my face, in black eyeliner, disparaging words like 'Fat', 'ugly', 'worthless' etc (Re: Realisation).
I have burnt myself, cut myself, attempted to kill myself by suffocation, over dose, (considered) driving off a cliff and once I nearly stepped out in front of a truck. The only thing that stopped me from mangling myself on the front of that truck, was thinking about how the truck driver would feel knowing he was the death of me, even though I wanted to die.
I have scars up both of my forearms, inner and outer, from cutting myself. I have burn scars from matches and lighters, all self inflicted. I have a scar, just under my hairline on my forehead from where I bashed my head, repeatedly, into a glass sliding door until it broke my skin open.
I have hated myself for so long I'm not sure I know how not to hate myself.
Now that's not entirely true, I love myself as a person.
When my son was 16 months old I left QLD and moved back to WA, lured by my Mother's promises of more support and help with Kaleb than I was currently getting from Shannon. So off I went, and stayed just over 2 years. In the end it wasn't all my mother had promised. I was surrounded by my family, yet I'd go weeks, sometimes months, without seeing any of them or even getting a phone call from them. So in the end I was sick and tired of being alone and moved back to QLD, also so Kaleb could have a relationship with his Dad. Which is as important, if not more-so.
The point is, that being in WA did teach me something. It taught me that I only have myself to rely on. It also helped me to get in touch with the real me. For years I wasn't true to myself. I had what I call 'masks' that I put on for the different people in my life, different masks for what I perceived they expected from me. The real me would hide behind these masks, hoping and praying that the people in my life wouldn't see me for who I really was because I just knew they wouldn't accept me. They'd shun me and disown me. I have a very judgemental family. (Re: Realisation again, poem called 'Mask')
So I would pretend to be virtuous and Righteous (in the biblical sense) for my Dad. Manipulative and sneaky for my Mum. Demur, timid and obedient for Shannon and a myriad of other things for other people, but never my true self.
During my 2 years in WA I 'found' myself. The real me. I learned to love who I was and accept myself. I stopped caring if other accepted me or not. I learnt that I am funny, loyal, passionate, creative, caring, kind, bi-curious, open-mined and understanding. I have slight OCD and I'm controlling. I like to have things my own way. I'm impatient and restless. I like to watch weird porn. I have fantasies that aren't socially acceptable. I don't suffer fools well. I will be the best friend you could hope for, as long as it's an equal friendship. If you take advantage of me or piss me off one time too many I will cut you from my life without a backwards glance. I can put up with a lot of shit, but I will not be your door-mat.
I no longer care what people think of me. I discovered my new life motto which is;
"I am who I am, take me or leave me, don't try to change me coz you won't succeed. I have to live with myself everyday, not you, so I'm going be true to myself. If you can't appreciate me for who and what I am, then you don't deserve me."
Whilst I love myself as a person, and know I am awesome, I hate my body and my general lack of motivation to do anything about my weight. Bertha is constantly telling me I'm lazy and useless. She also loves to make excuses for me not to exercise. They vary from minor body aches and pains to the weather and which socks are clean at the moment. Oh and of course if my iPod is charged or not. There is no exercise without music.
Bertha does have a slightly nice side though. I know her 'nice' comments are aimed to hurt me elsewhere though, like she tells me I deserve to rest and relax because I expend so much energy dealing with Kaleb on a daily basis. But this is in lieu of exercise. I think to myself that I want to (or rather should) go for a walk and Bertha whispers 'but Kaleb was such a handful this morning, it took you 30 minutes just to get him settled enough to get dressed for school. You deserve to sit down for the rest of the day and just veg'. It's hard not to listen to her, especially when I really don't want to exercise. It's not my favourite activity, whereas sitting on my ass at the computer is! More and more I am realising I want a lap-band. So I can sit and bludge and still lose weight. Or rather, do a minimal amount of exercise and still lose weight.
Here's something that terrifies me. I have 54kg left to lose to get to my goal weight. And that's my goal, not the 'ideal' weight for my height. I challenge you to stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself you have 54kg to lose and not break down. This time last year I had 74kg to lose, now I acknowledge 54kg is a lot less scary than 74kg, but it's still daunting as hell.
I have to apologise, this post is jumping all over the place with my random thoughts. I'm in the mood to share today and it doesn't always come out in a smooth chronological order.
My eating habits have gone way off the charts of late. I'm quite disappointed with myself in that regard. For about the first 12 months after my surgery I wasn't at all interested in sweet foods. Whereas before I could consume a massive bowl of icecream with all the trimmings (mini m&m's, mini marshmallows and a thick coating of Ice Magic) I could no longer stand more than 1 scoop of plain vanilla icecream, and forget about chocolate. Pre-surgery a full 200g block of Cadbury's would reside in my stomach within 20 minutes of breaking the foil. Post-surgery I was content with 1 line of it and I'd put it away. PUT IT AWAY PEOPLE!!! That was seriously unheard of for me. Also Icecream would sit in the freezer for weeks, if not months. Pre-surgery Icecream was replenished weekly, if not bi-weekly.
Instead of sweets I craved spicy foods. Curry's were a fave and everything had to have sweet chilli sauce with it, or at the very least cayenne pepper. I was seriously using cayenne pepper in lieu of regular black pepper and eating jalapeno's by the jar. Nowadays my sweet tooth is back with a passion. I spent $40 at the confectionery warehouse in Brisbane just over a week ago and we literally have none of those lollies left. I bought a 1.3kg bag of Allen's Strawberries & Cream, among other things, and as of this morning, thanks in most part to Kaleb, they are gone. I originally went there to buy 2 things only, for a cooking project, which would have come to a total of $10.
I can't seem to stop myself eating sweets. I really, really crave them. I know it's only head hunger, and I've gotten better at ignoring it, but I am always searching for something sweet to nibble on.
I've also fallen off the wagon with buying low fat foods. Last week when I went grocery shopping I bought regular tasty cheese, instead of low fat, and full cream milk instead of lite. I switched to lite milk over 18 months ago, so I suppose it's not such a huge deal that I bought full cream this one time, but I plan to do it again. That's what scares me. I don't intend on going back to lite milk or lite cheese. I'm sick of crappy tasting food.
In my video blogs I'm always talking about changing my lifestyle, and I have/did. I changed everything I could over to the 'lite' version. I got in to the habit of exercising regularly, even if I hate it. I make better food choices when out. I always remember to ask for a skinny cappuccino/latte when having a coffee with friends. I'm just over it at the moment. I want to have a break. I want to eat normal food like it won't make me fat again. I'm avoiding the scales again too. I'm drinking at least 9L of coke a week, on my own. My skin is itching again as well, like it does when it's stretching and I'm going to get more stretch marks.
I know I need to get back to the low fat foods, and I will. Just not now.
My goal this week is to find and attend a Zumba class. I promised Warren I'd try. I promised myself I'd try. I think I've made Warren my surrogate. I use him to reflect myself. I don't see him as this guy who's pushing me to do things I don't want to, and have no desire to do. I see him as myself, telling me what I need to do to be happier, healthier and skinnier. So when I make a promise to Warren, I'm making a promise to myself and to not follow through on that promise would be to cheat myself. What person would knowingly cheat themselves?
 |
| Me, Far right 2000. 18 years, 112kg |
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The past is the past....yeah right!
It doesn't matter how many times my psychologist tells me that what's happened in the past should stay in the past, it's just not going to happen. Don't get me wrong, she makes a good point, and in a perfect world everything that has happened in the past will have a neat little bridge for me to cross over to the other side, the side of acceptance and moving on. I don't have such a bridge, not with most things. Emma tells me that I shouldn't let past issues effect me now. I have no control over them, they are gone and nothing can be done to change them, only my attitude towards how I feel about them can be changed. That's all I have control over, my own reactions.
That is brilliant advice, really it is. It makes total sense to me. Again, easier said than done. I am mad over so many things that happened to me in my past, most of which weren't of my own doing and I deserved better.
My parent's separating, for one, was not my fault (and really was for the best in the end) but it upended my life as I'd known it and divided my parents. From the moment Dad left, I never heard them speak another civil word to each other, or stand in the same vicinity without there being a glacier between them. Not to mention I became their gofer, the go between for messages, taunts and snide remarks. Great job guys! Put a young adolescent in the middle of your messy divorce and NOT expect her to be screwed up! Really, my parents were geniuses weren't they! *insert sarcasm, in case you missed it*
Now that was bad enough, what was worse was that I couldn't stand my mother. Never have been able to. At 21 I was more mature than she was at 45. She's had a lot of trauma in her own upbringing (if you can believe what she says, which one can't always...habitual liar that she is) but there are ways to get over that. She's never done any work towards it though, as far as I can tell. I, at least, am trying!
So that is why I see Emma, my psychologist, once a month or so.
I've always found my mother to be extremely judgemental and smothering which is stifling to a fiercely independent person such as myself. Growing up, there weren't a lot of 'I love you's' going around either or even talking about your problems. In my family, if you had a problem you NEVER talked about it. You 'got over it' and moved on. In other words you buried it deep down inside, never dealt with anything and just waited for all those feelings to fester, and in my case, burst out at the most inopportune times. Another reason I've done so much work with psychologists, to learn to talk about my problems. I believe this has also helped me become a person who is more accepting of others also.
As soon as I found out my parents were divorcing I said 'I want to live with Dad'. There wasn't even the hint of wanting to stay with my mother. So when the opportunity presented itself, I did just that. I was about 4 months shy of my 13th birthday when I finally escaped my Mother and went to live with my Dad.
For about 6 months it was great. I had him pretty much all to myself. He was a lot more lenient than my mother, allowing me to do things she wouldn't such as dye my hair, shave my legs and even ride my bike to school. Typical things a 13 year old should be doing!
It was also around this time that I started hitting puberty. I got taller, my C cup boobs flourished within 3 months (to my shock and horror!) and my hips widened giving me a more chunky, womanly look. This is when my Dad started telling me I was fat.
He'd take me clothes shopping and buy me the clothes I really wanted, but in a size smaller than I needed them to 'encourage me' to lose weight. He'd limit my food intake at meals, giving me half of what he'd give my sisters or himself and tell me I couldn't have any more than that.
I rebelled by midnight snacking. I'd also steal money from his wallet and go buy snacks at the shops to hide in my room. I'd binge whenever I could, yet despite this I didn't actually put on much weight. My body was still changing, as it needed to, but I put on very little fat. I was a size 14-16 in clothes at age 14. I had wide 'child baring hips' and was tall, 5'11" to be precise. Yet the fat remarks continued. My dad would even take me 'walking' with him and his girlfriend. I have, and probably always will, hate exercising because of these enforced exercise times. His idea of exercise wasn't a leisurely stroll around the park, it was a 4km power-walk along the foreshore. I was forced to do this 3 times a week.
In the end I just decided I was fat. I'd been told enough times so it must have been true right??
By the time I was 16 I weighted 90kg. I'd given up caring by this stage. I never noticed if/when I put on weight because I already thought I was fat. You aren't going to notice something if you already believe it to be so.
Now call me crazy, and many have, but I despise my father for this. I am screwed up in the head because of his treatment of me. I now have a serious health issue, morbid obesity, because of his actions and emotional torment.
You can sit there all you like and say 'you could have done something about it at any time, you LET yourself get this big'. And you would be right. But the fact of the matter is I didn't notice. I really, honestly didn't. Humans have the ability to lie, we are the only creature on the face of the earth that can do so, and we do it very convincingly, especially when we lie to ourselves!
I avoided scales like the plague. When I was forced to buy larger clothes, bras, underwear etc I TOLD myself that it was the clothing manufactures that were changing the sizes. 'They' always do that, who ever 'They' are (and I've actually since learned that there are no standardised sizing regulations in Australia!).
No-one I knew told me I was getting bigger. Whether they just didn't care or didn't want to hurt my feelings I don't know. I doubt I would have listened to them anyway. I'd have resented them and eaten more to comfort myself.
For me, losing weight isn't only a physical battle. It's an emotional and mental one too. I have to unlearn all that negative behaviour. I have to force myself to get on the scales. I have to force myself to notice my weight loss, and to be honest I still don't. It is a REAL struggle to do so. I have people say to me all the time 'Wow you look like you've lost more weight' and the first thing my brain tells me is 'They're lying'. I still haven't worked out how to make exercise an enjoyable experience. It still has a lot of negative emotion surrounding it for me. I'm working on it though.
The lightest I've been in my adult life is 76kg. I lost 40kg during my pregnancy with my son due to gall stones and was quite sick with them for about 6 months after having him also. Although I lost all that weight I still felt fat. I never noticed I was skinnier. Nor did I have anyone telling me I looked great. Not that it should be necessary, but someone saying something might have helped.
I really believe I have an eating disorder. Something like reverse anorexia. There is all this hype about bulimia and anorexia because they are so noticeable. People starving themselves to death will always get more recognition compared to people eating themselves to death.
I've read up on Anorexia and bulimia, and it is widely known that people suffering these disorders hear a disparaging voice in their heads, telling them they are fat, no matter what they look like. Telling them that if they eat that food they'll get fatter and fatter etc.
My 'voice' started out as a real life one that I could hear every day, in the form of my Father. Eventually, over time, it became internal also. But instead of avoiding foods, I turned to them to comfort me. My internal voice doesn't tell me I'll get fat if I eat that food. It tells me I'm already fat, so why not eat that food and enjoy myself. After all food makes me feel happier, even if it's only temporary.
My 'voice', aka Bertha, convinces me that I'm not putting on weight, but that the clothing companies are shrinking the clothes sizes. She tells me that the little child at Coles said to his mother 'wow Mummy look at that really fat lady' not because I'm overly huge, but because his mother is so tiny and skinny he's just never seen someone larger. She tells me that sure, I'm fat, but I'm not obese. And if I'm already fat, who cares if I become obese. No one is going to like me anyway coz I'm fat. No one is going to be attracted to me, because I'm fat. She tells me I'm not worth anything to the world, because I'm fat.
Ordinarily, you would think, Why listen to her? And I wish it were as easy as that, I wish I could just ignore all those nasty words. The fact is I have my life confirming every single little thing that Bertha whispers in my head.
I haven't been in a relationship in almost 10 years. Bertha tells me this is because I'm fat and fat=ugly. She tells me no one is openly attracted to a fatty, unless there is something wrong with them or they can't do any better.
I haven't had a job that lasted more than 3 days in almost 10 years. Bertha tells me this is because I'm fat and no one wants to employ a fatty, especially in the fast-food/hospitality industry, which are the easiest jobs to obtain. Who wants to be served their junk food at McDonalds by someone morbidly obese? It doesn't make good business sense, she tells me.
Bertha tells me the only thing I'm good for is raising my son, and even then I'm only just scraping through. She also tells me that those few men that have been interested were only so, because I'm their dirty little secret. It's not socially acceptable for men to be attracted to fatties, Bertha tells me, so they must have a secret fantasy they want to live out. That's all I'm good for, being the dirty secret fantasy that no one should ever know they harbour. That's why they don't want to date me, introduce me to their parent and friends or go out with me in public to the movies or dinner or even to have a coffee. Who would want to have to introduce YOU to anyone? You are an embarrassment, their friends would be asking them, behind your back, 'Why are you with that tub of lard?!'.
Bertha is loud. She is convincing and hurtful. She has evidence to back up her taunts. She is relentless and energy draining. On the days I fight her I feel happy but also exhausted, not only physically but emotionally. On the days I listen to Bertha I feel miserable and just cry. It's difficult to fight when you are crying and feeling down. At the moment I have more 'listening to Bertha' days compared to fighting days. It is evening out though. She has been having her wicked way with me for years, and years. It's going to take a lot more effort and time to stamp down her negative effect on my life and learn to fight her, and eventually ignore her. I hope one day that Bertha will be no more. I hope for the day that I no longer have to fight to ignore her, the day that ignoring her is no longer second nature. The day where she just doesn't exist any more. I don't know when that day will come, or even if it will, but I have hope.
Hope is all I have now.
That is brilliant advice, really it is. It makes total sense to me. Again, easier said than done. I am mad over so many things that happened to me in my past, most of which weren't of my own doing and I deserved better.
My parent's separating, for one, was not my fault (and really was for the best in the end) but it upended my life as I'd known it and divided my parents. From the moment Dad left, I never heard them speak another civil word to each other, or stand in the same vicinity without there being a glacier between them. Not to mention I became their gofer, the go between for messages, taunts and snide remarks. Great job guys! Put a young adolescent in the middle of your messy divorce and NOT expect her to be screwed up! Really, my parents were geniuses weren't they! *insert sarcasm, in case you missed it*
Now that was bad enough, what was worse was that I couldn't stand my mother. Never have been able to. At 21 I was more mature than she was at 45. She's had a lot of trauma in her own upbringing (if you can believe what she says, which one can't always...habitual liar that she is) but there are ways to get over that. She's never done any work towards it though, as far as I can tell. I, at least, am trying!
So that is why I see Emma, my psychologist, once a month or so.
I've always found my mother to be extremely judgemental and smothering which is stifling to a fiercely independent person such as myself. Growing up, there weren't a lot of 'I love you's' going around either or even talking about your problems. In my family, if you had a problem you NEVER talked about it. You 'got over it' and moved on. In other words you buried it deep down inside, never dealt with anything and just waited for all those feelings to fester, and in my case, burst out at the most inopportune times. Another reason I've done so much work with psychologists, to learn to talk about my problems. I believe this has also helped me become a person who is more accepting of others also.
As soon as I found out my parents were divorcing I said 'I want to live with Dad'. There wasn't even the hint of wanting to stay with my mother. So when the opportunity presented itself, I did just that. I was about 4 months shy of my 13th birthday when I finally escaped my Mother and went to live with my Dad.
For about 6 months it was great. I had him pretty much all to myself. He was a lot more lenient than my mother, allowing me to do things she wouldn't such as dye my hair, shave my legs and even ride my bike to school. Typical things a 13 year old should be doing!
It was also around this time that I started hitting puberty. I got taller, my C cup boobs flourished within 3 months (to my shock and horror!) and my hips widened giving me a more chunky, womanly look. This is when my Dad started telling me I was fat.
He'd take me clothes shopping and buy me the clothes I really wanted, but in a size smaller than I needed them to 'encourage me' to lose weight. He'd limit my food intake at meals, giving me half of what he'd give my sisters or himself and tell me I couldn't have any more than that.
I rebelled by midnight snacking. I'd also steal money from his wallet and go buy snacks at the shops to hide in my room. I'd binge whenever I could, yet despite this I didn't actually put on much weight. My body was still changing, as it needed to, but I put on very little fat. I was a size 14-16 in clothes at age 14. I had wide 'child baring hips' and was tall, 5'11" to be precise. Yet the fat remarks continued. My dad would even take me 'walking' with him and his girlfriend. I have, and probably always will, hate exercising because of these enforced exercise times. His idea of exercise wasn't a leisurely stroll around the park, it was a 4km power-walk along the foreshore. I was forced to do this 3 times a week.
In the end I just decided I was fat. I'd been told enough times so it must have been true right??
By the time I was 16 I weighted 90kg. I'd given up caring by this stage. I never noticed if/when I put on weight because I already thought I was fat. You aren't going to notice something if you already believe it to be so.
 |
| Me, far right, age 16 |
Now call me crazy, and many have, but I despise my father for this. I am screwed up in the head because of his treatment of me. I now have a serious health issue, morbid obesity, because of his actions and emotional torment.
You can sit there all you like and say 'you could have done something about it at any time, you LET yourself get this big'. And you would be right. But the fact of the matter is I didn't notice. I really, honestly didn't. Humans have the ability to lie, we are the only creature on the face of the earth that can do so, and we do it very convincingly, especially when we lie to ourselves!
I avoided scales like the plague. When I was forced to buy larger clothes, bras, underwear etc I TOLD myself that it was the clothing manufactures that were changing the sizes. 'They' always do that, who ever 'They' are (and I've actually since learned that there are no standardised sizing regulations in Australia!).
No-one I knew told me I was getting bigger. Whether they just didn't care or didn't want to hurt my feelings I don't know. I doubt I would have listened to them anyway. I'd have resented them and eaten more to comfort myself.
For me, losing weight isn't only a physical battle. It's an emotional and mental one too. I have to unlearn all that negative behaviour. I have to force myself to get on the scales. I have to force myself to notice my weight loss, and to be honest I still don't. It is a REAL struggle to do so. I have people say to me all the time 'Wow you look like you've lost more weight' and the first thing my brain tells me is 'They're lying'. I still haven't worked out how to make exercise an enjoyable experience. It still has a lot of negative emotion surrounding it for me. I'm working on it though.
The lightest I've been in my adult life is 76kg. I lost 40kg during my pregnancy with my son due to gall stones and was quite sick with them for about 6 months after having him also. Although I lost all that weight I still felt fat. I never noticed I was skinnier. Nor did I have anyone telling me I looked great. Not that it should be necessary, but someone saying something might have helped.
 |
| Age 19, 79kg. 2 weeks after my son's birth. |
I really believe I have an eating disorder. Something like reverse anorexia. There is all this hype about bulimia and anorexia because they are so noticeable. People starving themselves to death will always get more recognition compared to people eating themselves to death.
I've read up on Anorexia and bulimia, and it is widely known that people suffering these disorders hear a disparaging voice in their heads, telling them they are fat, no matter what they look like. Telling them that if they eat that food they'll get fatter and fatter etc.
My 'voice' started out as a real life one that I could hear every day, in the form of my Father. Eventually, over time, it became internal also. But instead of avoiding foods, I turned to them to comfort me. My internal voice doesn't tell me I'll get fat if I eat that food. It tells me I'm already fat, so why not eat that food and enjoy myself. After all food makes me feel happier, even if it's only temporary.
My 'voice', aka Bertha, convinces me that I'm not putting on weight, but that the clothing companies are shrinking the clothes sizes. She tells me that the little child at Coles said to his mother 'wow Mummy look at that really fat lady' not because I'm overly huge, but because his mother is so tiny and skinny he's just never seen someone larger. She tells me that sure, I'm fat, but I'm not obese. And if I'm already fat, who cares if I become obese. No one is going to like me anyway coz I'm fat. No one is going to be attracted to me, because I'm fat. She tells me I'm not worth anything to the world, because I'm fat.
Ordinarily, you would think, Why listen to her? And I wish it were as easy as that, I wish I could just ignore all those nasty words. The fact is I have my life confirming every single little thing that Bertha whispers in my head.
I haven't been in a relationship in almost 10 years. Bertha tells me this is because I'm fat and fat=ugly. She tells me no one is openly attracted to a fatty, unless there is something wrong with them or they can't do any better.
I haven't had a job that lasted more than 3 days in almost 10 years. Bertha tells me this is because I'm fat and no one wants to employ a fatty, especially in the fast-food/hospitality industry, which are the easiest jobs to obtain. Who wants to be served their junk food at McDonalds by someone morbidly obese? It doesn't make good business sense, she tells me.
Bertha tells me the only thing I'm good for is raising my son, and even then I'm only just scraping through. She also tells me that those few men that have been interested were only so, because I'm their dirty little secret. It's not socially acceptable for men to be attracted to fatties, Bertha tells me, so they must have a secret fantasy they want to live out. That's all I'm good for, being the dirty secret fantasy that no one should ever know they harbour. That's why they don't want to date me, introduce me to their parent and friends or go out with me in public to the movies or dinner or even to have a coffee. Who would want to have to introduce YOU to anyone? You are an embarrassment, their friends would be asking them, behind your back, 'Why are you with that tub of lard?!'.
Bertha is loud. She is convincing and hurtful. She has evidence to back up her taunts. She is relentless and energy draining. On the days I fight her I feel happy but also exhausted, not only physically but emotionally. On the days I listen to Bertha I feel miserable and just cry. It's difficult to fight when you are crying and feeling down. At the moment I have more 'listening to Bertha' days compared to fighting days. It is evening out though. She has been having her wicked way with me for years, and years. It's going to take a lot more effort and time to stamp down her negative effect on my life and learn to fight her, and eventually ignore her. I hope one day that Bertha will be no more. I hope for the day that I no longer have to fight to ignore her, the day that ignoring her is no longer second nature. The day where she just doesn't exist any more. I don't know when that day will come, or even if it will, but I have hope.
Hope is all I have now.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Tuna Patties
Just thought I'd share this recipe I came across on a 'heathy eating' website somewhere. I can't remember exactly where to be able to give credit, where it's due, but I've also altered the recipe somewhat so can share it without infringing on too much copyright law, at least I think!
Tuna Patties - Makes 4 patties (2 patties per serve)
Double the recipe if making for a family of 4.
Ingredients:
1 x 180g can of tuna in either springwater or oil (not brine). Drain well. If it's in oil drain it REALLY well. (I often place it in a small plastic sieve and use a spoon to squeeze the excess oil out)
2 tablespoons spring onions (shallots) diced
2 tablespoons of flaxseed meal (found at health food shops)
1 tablespoon of mayonaise
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 clove of garlic (cook slightly in a pan with a drop of oil, before adding, if you do not wish it to be overpowering)
2 tablespoons of parmasan cheese
salt and pepper to taste. I also add a small amount of paprika on occasion which is also nice.
Method:
Add all ingredients to bowl with tuna and stir to combine well.
Heat some olive oil in a fry pan over medium low heat.
Spoon mixture into heated oil. Smooth with the spoon to make pattie shapes
Allow to cook well and slowly until it becomes brown around the edges, then flip patties and brown on the other side.
Place onto paper towel to drain once cooked.
Serve with salad or these can even be used on burgers
ENJOY!!! and be sure to leave a comment if you tried them out and let us know if you liked them or not!
Tuna Patties - Makes 4 patties (2 patties per serve)
Double the recipe if making for a family of 4.
Ingredients:
1 x 180g can of tuna in either springwater or oil (not brine). Drain well. If it's in oil drain it REALLY well. (I often place it in a small plastic sieve and use a spoon to squeeze the excess oil out)
2 tablespoons spring onions (shallots) diced
2 tablespoons of flaxseed meal (found at health food shops)
1 tablespoon of mayonaise
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 clove of garlic (cook slightly in a pan with a drop of oil, before adding, if you do not wish it to be overpowering)
2 tablespoons of parmasan cheese
salt and pepper to taste. I also add a small amount of paprika on occasion which is also nice.
Method:
Add all ingredients to bowl with tuna and stir to combine well.
Heat some olive oil in a fry pan over medium low heat.
Spoon mixture into heated oil. Smooth with the spoon to make pattie shapes
Allow to cook well and slowly until it becomes brown around the edges, then flip patties and brown on the other side.
Place onto paper towel to drain once cooked.
Serve with salad or these can even be used on burgers
ENJOY!!! and be sure to leave a comment if you tried them out and let us know if you liked them or not!
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