Month: June 2015

One Pound, Baby!

This is not me 🙂

My original plan, after such an awful week, was to skip weigh-in on Saturday.  Why torture myself anymore than I’ve already been tormented?  But that’s a really bad habit for me to get into.  One skipped weigh-in turns into twenty, which turns into 50 pounds gained.  Okay, I exaggerate, but only slightly.

I tried to salvage something for the week by working out Friday night and again Saturday morning.  I got an email late in the week about a half-marathon training group starting in mid-August at the place where I take Spinning class sometimes.  We were advised to be able to run 3 miles several times a week before the group starts.  My first thought was “Yeah right, I’m too fat for this.”  Then I thought, “I have two months to work up to two miles.  I could actually do this.”

I printed a beginner’s 5K training schedule, and the first run was for 1.5 miles. So Saturday morning I laced up my running shoes and went to the gym with a mission: to finish 1.5 miles, no matter how long it took, no matter how much torture it was, and be able to cross off my first day of 5K training!

I did it, but it took me over 30 minutes.  Wow, I’m out of shape.  I used to cover 3 or more miles in that time.  It was a struggle, and I hated feeling how much I have let myself go, but I completed that first 1.5 miles and proudly crossed it off on my training calendar.  One down!

After that run, I decided to go ahead, face the number, and weigh in.  I weighed in at 210, down from 211 last week.  I’m sure it’s mostly water loss from the run, but it wasn’t a gain, so I don’t care if it was caused by aliens, I’m taking it and running with it and celebrating it!

I have to work two evenings this week at my second job, so I really need a plan this week.  I’m going to force myself to get to bed earlier each night so I can make myself get up for a morning workout on Thursday and Friday.  I have to work Saturday and Sunday (grrrrrrrrr), so fitting in workouts this weekend will be a battle.

My stepkids will be home Friday evening, and I always go with my boyfriend to pick them up, but I won’t even see them until at least 9:30 that night, after I get home from work.  I don’t like that at all, especially considering I’m working all weekend too.  Sometimes I seriously wonder if this second job is worth it.  I am trying hard to pay down debt, get us on better financial footing, move into a bigger place (we desperately need it), but the sacrifices along the way seem gigantic.

I will take this week one day at a time.  One pound down, and I’m taking aim at at least one more this week!

Broken Arm and Anger

This sums up Psycho perfectly.

I really just gave up this week.  Too much going on, too much stress, no excuse but I didn’t have anything left in the tank to deal with workouts and food diaries.  I got called into my second job several times this week, we had a board meeting and dinner event at work, and then the other night, the climax of the week: my boyfriend got a text that his 11-year-old daughter was in the emergency room, getting a soft cast put on her arm.

How this happen?  Glad you asked.  Psycho, his ex-wife and my stalker, thought it was a good idea to let an 11-year-old child outside to play on a skateboard, unsupervised, and with no helmet and no pads.  Predictably, my stepdaughter fell, and she fell so hard that she needs to undergo a procedure today to place the bone back in place before a cast can be put on.

I have so much anger about this.  Accidents happen, yeah, but they are guaranteed to happen when a so-called mother can’t be bothered to even strap a helmet onto a child, or bother peeping out a window when the kids are in her father’s pool, or perform any action or function that remotely resembles parenting.  I can’t even count on one hand how many ER visits the kids have had in the past year!  Let’s see: my younger stepson was in a wheelchair and neck brace while Psycho griped about him not finishing that football game; my older stepson ended up in the ER for a bump on his arm that never got cleaned or taken care of until it festered into a horrible infection; my younger stepdaughter just got a cast off her arm less than a year ago, which wasn’t her first trip to the ER either, since Psycho shredded the inside of that little girl’s throat trying to dig out a doughnut she was choking on for quite some time before Psycho decided to do anything about it.

When my boyfriend called his daughter the other night, she was still crying about how much her arm hurt.  In the background, Psycho snapped at her to not start crying again.  My boyfriend told his daughter to cry if it hurts, and if her mother had a problem with that, to put her on the phone.  Psycho refused to take the phone.  Of course she did.  She is a coward who bullies children and will not face someone willing to call her out on her bullshit.

Yet again, I have allowed the stress and anger and fury of fearing for the kids, and wondering why in blazing hell she is permitted to have custody of children, to derail me from taking care of me.  I get so angry, I can’t even think, except to keep coming back to: if my stepdaughter would have fallen on her head as hard as she did on her arm, with no helmet on…what then?

Breaking Point

The celebration was short-lived.  This past Saturday, I weighed in and just wanted to slap myself.  I gained back exactly what I lost last week, so back up to 211, for a gain of 2.2 pounds.

*sigh*

I am beginning to believe I will never get my act together.  I am the fattest I’ve ever been, my clothes don’t fit, I look terrible, I feel awful, I have pain in my joints and feet and back, and still I’m not motivated to keep at anything that will help me lose this disgusting extra weight.  What the hell is wrong with me?

Yes, I’m feeling very frustrated today.  I feel like a beached whale.  I feel frustrated, disgusted, angry, and ashamed.  How did I do this to myself, and how do I keep doing it?  I am not a stupid person.  So why am I acting so stupid in this one piece of my life?

It doesn’t help that this week, I not only have my second job to contend with, but also a work event in the evening later this week.  All of that means very little time for workouts, or sleep, for that matter. I’m so sick of not being able to do what I want to do, what I need to do, because of obligations I don’t even want to honor and things I don’t even want to do.  I don’t want to attend this work event, and I am sick to death of working two jobs.

If you can’t tell, I am not in the best of moods today.  I keep saying something needs to change, but nothing changes except my weight keeps nudging up.  Something has to give, before my sanity does!

Finally!

I’ve been steadily gaining weight each week and moving so far in the wrong direction, I was starting to think it will be impossible to find my way back.  So I was beyond happy when I weighed in Saturday morning to a 2.2 pound loss!  FINALLY!

I have a very long way to go, and that isn’t even the tip of the iceberg.  But it’s a start.  It’s the turnaround I needed.  It’s the U-turn from gaining to losing that I was having trouble finding.

Last week I requested a cut in my hours at my second job, so this is my first week not working most evenings on top of my day job.  No excuses this week!  I am going to work out and aim for two more pounds gone by Saturday’s weigh-in.

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