Down with the Sickness

I have been quite out of sorts the last five days or so. You know that feeling when you're not really sick-sick but you feel like you're coming down with something? That's been me. I didn't have to worry about eating poorly on Thanksgiving because I was scheduled to work and my husband took the boys to his step-dad's family dinner. I ended up getting a call when I was half-way to work and they told me I HAD to be flexed/on-call because the hospital bed census was down. (Quick explanation: bed census=number of patients currently admitted. Low bed census=need for fewer nurses.) Although I usually don't mind being flexed (would YOU mind your job calling and saying, "Hey, want to get paid to stay home tonight and NOT get in trouble for it or have to make up some lame excuse for calling in?") I DID mind that night. Spending Thanksgiving alone was not my idea of a good time. Plus I missed out on the bonus money. (Insert frowny face of your choice here) The next night I went in to work and ended up being sent home after six hours for the same reason. Note to self: find job at busier hospital when move to California. By then Black Friday was in full swing and I did not want to deal with the crazies so I went home to let the hardcore shoppers get their 42" tvs for $238 at Wal-Mart. Later that morning I did go out with the boys and the husband but it wasn't for gift buying. I just wanted to take advantage of the sales to get some necessities. I took the boys to Burlington to get their winter gear (Two 3-in-1 system jackets, two pair waterproof gloves, two fleece-lined winter hats, and one pair of Addicted jeans = $130. Thank you very much.) Then I took my husband out to the too-tall-and-muscled-for-regular-clothing-stores store, he's 6'6" and worked construction before he became a chef, and picked him up two shirts and two pairs of jeans for buy one get one free. Then I went to Lame Bryant and got a nice pair of jeans for %50 off. They're a bit dressier than I usually wear but I have Christmas concerts and pageants coming up and my kids refuse to let me wear my scrubs to them. It's raining here today so even though I'm feeling better I don't foresee me doing much aside from running out to escape the children briefly and pick up the new copy of Interweave Knits. I might go to church with the hubs and kids this morning since I missed last night but we'll see. That's a long story.

I Watch Workout Shows

Okay I admit it. I watch workout shows on TV and don't do the workouts. Loser, I know, but hear me out. I've been "on a diet" as long as I can remember. I didn't need to be until after two pregnancies, but my mom was a very overweight child, who became a very overweight teenager, who's parents tried to make up for their horrendous parenting with horses, cars, and lots of food. Then they were embarrassed by my mom's weight so they signed for her to have an earlier, less severe version of a gastric bypass, and she lost a ton of weight. She'd already met my dad who was blown away by her beauty (and my mom has ALWAYS been abso-friggin-loutely GORGEOUS), and after three weeks of dating he decided that he would not re-up for a new tour in the Army, but would instead marry mom, go to college, and go back in the Army as an officer. So that's what's he did, but I digress. In the midst of all this goodness my mom was completely miserable over her weight and since she was underage, my grandparents had to signed for her surgery. After her surgery she married my dad and has been on a diet for the last thirty-three years. My earliest memory related to my weight was when I was in kindergarten. I was supposed to play a bumblebee in the school play and I told my mom I didn't want to because I thought the costume made me look fat. I did NOT have a weight problem as a child. In fact I was on the scrawny side until puberty gave me some curves. My mom thought it was cute that I was concerned about my weight (don't blame her, she didn't know any better). She never realized that her constant obsession with HER weight and HER constantly being on whatever diet was in fashion at the time, translated to ME being obsessed with MY weight and being on whatever diet was in fashion at the time. Consequently I've been on every diet that there was ever an infomercial for, really popular book for, Oprah toted, or that ever appeared on Phil Donahue (remember him?!?). Even in my rebellious teenage years when I decided that I wasn't going to obsess over my weight and conform to society's idea of "beauty" (translation= wild hair colors, piercings, tattoos, and really funky clothes) I secretly obsessed over my weight. I ditched hanging out and partying with my anti-establishment friends, washed off all that goth makeup, took out the piercings, pulled the purple hair up under my Nike running hat, threw on my Asics, and hit the treadmill or the gym. I never worried about running into them there because, let's face it, there'd be snow in Hell before they'd even think about working out. Oddly enough, my mom would frequently join me in my workouts and I was okay with this. Another thing we did was watch workout shows together. We never did the workouts. Just watched. Usually it was just motivation to us both to stay on our diets and stick to our workouts, but it was also time we spent laughing together (c'mon, most of them are funny to watch) and we didn't have to be the bitchy teenage daughter and the domineering mother. Today I got up, turned on the TV and soon found myself watching Gilead. I told myself it was only because he was on before A Baby Story, but I know that's bunk. I wanted that extra motivation for my workout this morning, and later I'm going to call my mom and we'll laugh about me watching it. My mom has always had to battle her weight, even with the surgery and recently got back down to a healthy weight and a normal BMI after losing over seventy pounds in a year. She's my best motivator and my biggest fan. Every pound I lose is important to her and she loves to cheer me on. I also told her that I'm not moving to California until I reach a healthy weight so she has LOTS of motivation to cheer me on. My treadmill is fixed again so my plan today is pretty simple. I'm going to do a couple of miles on the treadmill. Do my stretching routine. Do a simple upper body weight routine.  Then I will probably knit, nap, knit some more and eat healthy. Sounds like a pretty good day to me!

Idle Hands

While this blog is not meant to be only a weight loss blog, I have found that like most people my weight and my journey to slim down and get healthy impacts every area of my life. It takes me longer to get going in the morning (well, morning for ME, which is afternoon for everyone else). The decision to go out is more involved because I struggle with what to wear that will minimize the appearance of how big I am. Work is harder for me because I have to do the same stuff as everyone else and do it carrying around an extra 175 pounds. My co-workers don't care that I get tired more easily or that by halfway through the shift my back is aching. They just care that I get my work done so they're not doing their work plus mine, and there is nothing wrong with that. My weight is not their fault, nor should it be their responsibility. Being a good mom is harder because I can't keep up with my kids. I just don't have the energy, even after losing some weight. My marriage is affected because I constantly feel like I'm unattractive and therefore feel like I could lose my husband to someone thinner and prettier at any moment (though he repeatedly and vehemently denies this). He has told me he wants me to lose weight because I'm not healthy and he's been honest about finding me more attractive at my pre-baby weight, though at the same time he is afraid I want to lose too much and will be too skinny. Men, go figure. I believe I have finally gotten the whole mindless eating thing under control by just keeping my hands and mind busy. I used to just read all the time, but I've found that reading alone is too conducive to eating. Now I do things that can multitask. Like knitting. I've been a knitter for five years and I'm fairly accomplished. I've fair-isled. I've intarsia-ed. I've felted. I've steeked. I've designed and knit sweaters, socks, hats, and mittens. I have a lovely stash that continues to grow. I love my knitting. I now pair my knitting with audiobooks and podcasts and have found that I can go hours without eating as long as I have plenty of Diet Cherry Coke and water. About four and a half years ago I learned how to spin and now have not one but two spinning wheels. Spinning is great too. Between the two you'd think I'd never get bored, but after a lot of either I need a break (and my hands do too!) so my brother introduced me to World of Warcraft, an online game that allows me to keep my hands busy and also have some human interaction since it's multiplayer.  People make fun of people who do all of those things because of common misconceptions but they've been a life saver for me. Your whole day can't be just about what you're going to eat and when you will work out. You work out, you eat right, and then you (well, I) have to find ways to amuse yourself that don't involve a lot of driving around (my husband has the car most of the time), eating, or watching TV.  My house stays fairly clean because I'm a veritable Nazi about the kids picking up after themselves and since they're old enough, they contribute to the household by doing things like light vacuuming, doing the dishes, and folding and putting away their laundry. So that's what I do to keep myself busy. Moral of the story? Meh, I don't have one. I just had to keep my hands busy.

Arrrgh

Arrrgh. That's how I feel because my treadmill STILL is not fixed! Boo! I have not had a workout in a week because of this. Yes, I have workout videos but they do not motivate me or satisfy my need to sweat like my treadmill. I have a long and deep friendship with my treadmill. I don't think of it as a "dreadmill" because it offers me it's soothing hum of stress relief and weight loss whenever I want it. I never have to worry about the weather, my clothing, or the time of day. Maybe I don't mind the treadmill's monotony because I'm not training for a race and I've been a runner for a LONG time (regardless of the pounds I've put on and my not-so-steady running/walking schedule). I don't get bored because once my body gets past the initial "settling in" part of the run, my mind is free to go all stream of consciousness and sort through whatever needs to be sorted. Without talking to a single person or settling on a specific plan of action, this streaming is ridiculously helpful in relaxing me. I usually listen to music but I'll be honest, sometimes I get through half my playlist before I realize the music's on. So I've backed my hubs into the proverbial corner and threatened the withholding of sex if my buddy's not fixed PRONTO. I predict it will be fixed tomorrow. ;-p

So Tired

Today I woke up exhausted. I slept long enough. It wasn't solid sleep because I woke up every few hours, but that's pretty standard for me and when I wake up it's usually just to roll over and I go right back to sleep. I love sleep. I love TO sleep. I am one of those people who could spend a rainy day sleeping and not feel a bit guilty about it. But I digress. I woke up exhausted and not in the mood to get up and get going AT ALL. I don't have a work out planned for today or tomorrow because I have to work so that's at least one thing I don't have to get motivated for. I know when I get going I will actually have more energy but on days like today it's really hard. Does anybody else have this problem?

Strive for...Something

So I have this pet peeve with well meaning people who, after they find out I'm on a mission to get healthy, ask me how much weight I want to lose and then balk when I tell them. Well, YOU asked. Sometimes it's followed up with, "I'm sure you can do it." More often than not I get, "Don't you think that's a bit much to lose?" or "I wouldn't set myself up for failure like that." Uh...thanks. Wasn't planning on it. I know they don't realize what they're doing, but I want to smack them. My goal weight is 125lbs. I currently weigh 300lbs. My starting weight was 312. I'm 5'5in tall and I actually have a small frame (no getting away with saying I'm 'big boned' because at 312 I still only wore a size 7 ring and a size 8 shoe) so according to the insurance charts, 125 is my "perfect" weight. That being said, I am NOT hung up on the number. I'm a nurse for goodness sakes. I know all about body composition and fat distribution, and let's not forget that I'm going to have some excess skin when it's all said and done. I say 125 because it gives me a nice, concrete goal to work towards. I will most likely settle at around 135-140 because I like having muscles and when I was a size 10 last, I weighed 175lbs. I'm not going to feel like a failure if the scale never says 125 while I'm on it. There are people who can make goals like, "I just want to feel better" or "I want to be comfortable in my body" and that's enough for them. I have those goals along with "I want to wear a size 4 jeans" and "I want to wear size small Koi scrubs" because I am someone who NEEDS concrete goals. When I ran cross country I had days when the coach would say to us, "Go run until you think you've run far enough and then come back." Those days sucked for me. I was never able to relax and focus on the run because I was constantly worrying if I'd run far enough. Tell me to go run five miles and do four splits, and I'm happy. Tell me to lose enough weight to make me happy and I'll fail. Tell me to shoot for losing 175lbs and if I get close I'll be satisfied. I know it's a little OCD and Type A (which I'm not, really), but it works for me. I never make fun of other peoples goals or assume they will fail because they aren't concrete or they're terribly different from mine, because as long as they work for that individual they're good goals.

A No Good Very Bad Day

Really!?! That's what I've been wanting to scream at the top of my lungs ALL DAY. For starters I had to be up at the ball crack of dawn to take my dad to the airport so he could fly back to California (where I SHOULD live because that's where the rest of my family has migrated to), and because they had a two hour delay, I had to take both my boys with me (I had already dropped my husband off at work). The airport is a forty-five minute drive from my house and I was two thirds of the way home when I started hearing a loud grinding sound coming from my car. Not one to trifle with strange car sounds, I pulled over immediately and found that my tire was blown out. No, not just flat, there was a huge gaping hole the size of a half dollar in the OUTER layer of the tire. Fix-a-flat was SO NOT going to help this one. I called my husband and told him to which I get the response, "Well what are you going to do?" *blink, blink* "Uh...I just called you. THAT's what I'm going to do." Now I've never been the damsel in distress type. I was raised in a military household by a man who STILL can't talk about what he did while he was in the Army because those missions are still classified, and well, he didn't raise some cry-baby little pansy who can't figure out how to use a jack and a tire iron. I know how to change a tire and I've done it multiple times. The problem was that my husband had removed the jack and tire iron from the boot to make room for groceries and he'd forgotten to put them back. After reminding him of this fact (as sweetly as I was able to manage at that moment) he informed me that I'd have to "hang tight" because he wasn't able to get away from work for "a bit." Well alright then. I didn't really have much choice now did I? Had we been in California I could have just called my mom or my brother and one of them would have been able to come and help, but since I'm still stuck in Ohio I was screwed. All my former close friends disappeared during the time I was working two and sometimes three jobs while going to school full-time trying to get my degree. My husbands family? Busy. Although his youngest sister was willing to call around and see if she could borrow someones car to make the two hour (one way) trek up to help. He told her thanks, but we'd make do otherwise. So there I was, sitting on the side of a back country road, with a blown out tire, two very bored and fidgety boys, and now I had to pee. Since I knew it was going to be awhile I packed up the boys, locked up the car, and began to hoof it to the nearest place with a bathroom. We made it to a gas station with a minimum amount of complaining from the boys (really, I'm the overweight, out of shape one, and they play soccer and they're the ones complaining about a forty-five minute walk? unreal) and thank God, it had a public restroom. After that we walked a bit farther and found a Burger King. By this time I had heard from my husband that he wasn't even close to being able to leave so I bought the boys some lunch and myself a soda and we waited. And waited. And waited some more, until finally my darling arrived and we were rescued. At least, somewhat.  One hour and two hundred dollars (OMG! REALLY!?! ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?!?) later we had a new tire mounted and we arrived safely back home. I was very strong through the whole thing and avoided the temptation to eat poorly but when we got home I did what any normal person would do...I locked myself in my room, screamed into my pillow for a bit, and then cried a little. Then I logged on to World of Warcraft and took out some frustration on the game. I would have gotten on the treadmill and walked, but my husband needs to tighten the belt because it was sticking a bit the last time I was on it. As a result of today, we have decided as a family that we will be pushing the move to California a little faster than originally planned because I have had ENOUGH of this shit. Thanks for letting me vent internet friends. I hope this hasn't turned you off from my blog. I promise I'm all better now.

I'll Never Weigh 589lbs

I'll be honest...I've been in a slump lately. I get that way from time to time and when I do my general attitude is, "Screw it." Then Sunday night the slump went away and I was all set to set my mind back to working out and eating right. I packed my lunch, went to work, and three hours later I was ready to scream and head for the vending machine. Thankfully I got a call from the ER that I was getting an admission so the vending machine had to wait. When my patient got up to the floor I was glad I'd waited. My patient weighed 589lb (267kg) and had every complication that you can possibly have (almost) from obesity. It took six people, including me, to transfer the patient from the ER gurney to the bed and then it took me another hour to get the patient settled and medicated (including the anti-fungal powder I had to apply to each of the patient's skin folds because they were all red and irritated due to the yeast infections in each one). After all that I had to call a special company and order a different bed because the patient didn't fit into the largest bariatric bed that the hospital had. It was two hours before the bed was delivered and then another six person move. The whole time I was thinking, "Thank you God for showing me yet another reason I just HAVE to stay the course." I know it's a far stretch, and I would think I would never let it get that far, but that could be me if I don't take care of it now. So I stayed on track. Two hours later another severely obese patient stopped breathing and I was running around grabbing stuff, throwing stuff out of their room to allow for all the people and trying to get my compressions on their chest deep enough to actually pump their heart, which is really difficult on a five hundred pound person. They stopped breathing because they threw a clot that went to their lungs. They had clots because they were so big that they didn't move around enough. It was a giant flashing sign, "Hey! You need to make sure you think about THIS when you're tempted!"  I went home absolutely exhausted but with a renewed sense of determination and motivation. Last night was trick or treat in my town and my husband, dad, and I took the boys around for an hour and forty minutes. I didn't eat a single piece of candy. =)