Hump day writings

Fat clothes.

We all have them. For me the fat clothes represent so much. At there worse, they represent defeat. I didn’t win the battle of the bulge. In my kinder moments, the represent new goals.

Last year, thanks to the chemo diet, i lost a ton of weight. I think it was close to 40lbs.  Clothes were falling off of me. I could walk into the GAP and not dread finding a pair of pants. Internally, i would mock the plus size catalogs that i still came to the house. As i revamped my wardrobe, i spent a lot of time thinking about what to do with my fat clothes. Do i keep them? Is keeping them sending a signal to the universe that i wanted them back one day? If i donate them, then will be annoyed if i need them? Back and forth. Keep. Get rid of them.

I believed that i would never get fat again. Here, G-d gave me a free pass to get healthy and all i had to do was maintain it.

A funny thing happen. It turns out when you don’t eat (near the end of treatment there was so little i could tolerate without having stomach issues. I missed food so much) as soon as you can tolerate it, you lose all control. Like so many times in the past, i would have this line of thinking

“Oh, just this pig out today. One day isn’t going to hurt anything.” And then i would have the dreaded thought, “Tomorrow,i’ll be good.” Oh, and i still would have stomach issues. For some reason, despite my body saying STOP IT i was able to ignore it. Maybe it was my way of being pissy towards my body. With each binge, perhaps i was saying, ‘dude. YOU turned on me. YOU forgot to do YOUR job. Screw you.” Well guess who has the last word?

I am fourth months since my last treatment. My weight is basically back to were it was before i got diagnosis. I gained it all back. Fuck.

I thought that, since i was going to be weighed every 3 months at my check-ins that would be motivation to keep me honest.

So, here i am. Back to hating my body. Back to feeling my thighs rub together when i wear a skirt or a dress. Back to saying the little prayer ‘please fit, please fit’ as i put on a pair of pants. Back to feeling like i’m to fat to sit in a chair and wondering if those around me notice. Back to being so fucking angry at myself. How did i do this? I keep on saying–to myself and to anyone that will listen (mainly the husband) –i need a plan. Endlessly, i talk about how i want to eat better. I want to follow the micheal pollen approach towards food. Yet, have i read the book? Have i just started to do it? Yes and no. It’s all very half-ass.

I toy with the idea of doing a program like Jenny Craig or the like. I know the weight will come off (if it isn’t clear, this is not my first weight rodeo). The husband and i even talked about it. And i always get back to wanting to do it on my own. I don’t want to diet.  Maybe i’m in some weird denial, but i feel in my gut that diets don’t work for me. I mean, look at me. If diets worked–i wouldn’t be at this weight. Or is that just some fucked up logic, because i don’t want to do the work?

I do know this. I don’t want feel deprive. I don’t want always be thinking about food. The monkey chatter that occurs regarding food–it’s just exhausting. I want to live my life and food has it’s rightful place.

Early this week i listened to Isabel Fox’s vlog. In this vlog she invites viewers to ask themselves, what are the fat feelings really about. Duh. But, what stuck with me was that she posed this question: What else could you be thinking about right now? She followed that question with this: is there something going on that is making you feel anxious, nervous (and there is a third one which i can’t think of…)

Since then, i have started to adopt these questions. Particularly, the first one. When i am finding myself obsessing about food. “what to eat. i shouldn’t eat that. oh for fuck sake, i’m already back in the fat clothes, for dinner you will just eat a salad and on and on” i just asked myself, what can i  think of right now, instead of all of this. By asking myself this, i feel a awareness. Will it be the road to thin? No idea. Frankly seems to easy. But, it feels like a better start.


My wants

I want…..
*To have a following, although that means writing. And I’m not doing so swell on that. Need to fix that.

*To accomplish

*To do at least 2 writing prompts a month

*To start writing my blog ideas down–like an ed cal–so the writing isn’t so daunting.

*to embrace the fear and the ugly thoughts

*to have a practice (why can I never spell that word correctly??)

I think that is it for now….

to early

It’s 3.13 am on tuesday. i.m 3 days out from my second infusion and likely 2-3 days from getting my period.
i’m a mess.

i want to be fixed. i want people around me to stop asking me questions and just make things so. i don’t want to feel the port on the side of my neck or the strange tingling that hurts so much if i come into contact with cold.

i want it to be ok to have my mom here and know that won’t cause extra stress. Or not have to confront my father about asking to borrow money from us. i want to be able to call my mom and tell her what my dad did.

i’m exhausted and wide awake at the same time. I’m hot and cold also at same time.

i’m a hot mess.