Progress, of a sort.

Alright, you can't pass up a kick in the ass from the universe, or even just a nudge. My aunt hooked me up with a free full-length mirror, something I have lived without for years. I realize that one can obtain such a thing for dirt cheap at any major retailer, but I just never got around to picking one up.

I realized a while ago that I honestly have no idea what I look like these days, with the weight I've lost gone. I know what I look like in my head, and from the waist up, but have relied on fleeting glances in shop windows for the bigger picture.

Now, I will now and now I'll see what's happening as it happens, which is nice.

Also, I've been tracking everything I'm eating. Good for me for doing something I should never have stopped doing in the first place. *eyeroll*

peace oot!
LB

Reprogram

once again, I'm dropping the ball on my blogging duties. Mostly because, well, I don't have a whole lot to blog about these days. Bo-ring.

The scale has barely been moving, which is fine, but it moved up a little too much this week for my liking, so it's time to cut the shit and get back to business, again.

I don't know why I let myself fall off the tracking wagon. I've been extremely conscious of what I've been eating and not going off any rails, but I'm in a food rut. I'm lacking in dairy and protein. I'm lacking in variety. And really, I'm lacking in results.

The depression i'm currently fighting is not making this any easier, but I am ready to get back to tracking and making my food a little more fun and worthwhile. It's gotta happen, I need to kick my own ass a bit.

How many times do I have to give myself this little wake up call before it sticks? I frustrate myself sometimes, I really do.

Alright, time to plan some meals and hit the grocery store. Woman can not live on oatbran and canned pumpkin alone. Actually, she can, but let's not miss the point here...

xo
lb

Another Sunny Saturday

This has to be my favourite time of year. The colours, the cool air, the donning of knitted garments....I was made for this season. The only downside is that I now have to dress in layers to go to weigh-in, and the proud institution of the Saturday Scale Striptease has once again returned.

I felt good going in this morning, I knew that most of the ladywater was gone due to remarkably good timing by mother nature, and I figured I had managed to at least stay the same. To my surprise, I was down another 0.4, so I'm finally down to my lowest weight in recent memory. Almost out of the 260's which kicks so much ass, I can't even believe it.

I also can't believe that I'm still not tracking. Shame shame double shame, I know, but I'm okay with it right now. I know what I'm eating and I know I'm definitely keeping it under control. I think I could do with a little more variety and a better balance, but overall I'm doing quite alright.

My walking ability is getting better and better, but I'm still pacing myself when it comes to walking to or from work. Sidewalk quality and grade isn't the greatest in this older part of down, and downtown is a freaking nightmare thanks to the genius who decided interlocking brick was a good idea for public walkways. Some sections of Richmond feel more like a funhouse floor than a sidewalk. Oh, London. I love your priorities.

Let's see...what else is shaking? Ummm....knitting up tons of stock so I can start selling my shit online. I can never complain as long as there's fun knitting to be done.

Also, I got my Knit to Win tattoo finished on thursday:
The camera in my phone super sucks, but you get the idea.

Roller Derby tonight, last home game of the season! I can't wait to cheer on the amazing ladies of the Forest City Derby Girls! They're amazing people and I absolutely love watching them do what they do best. I can't wait to whoop it up in the stands!

I'm off to make a fine saturday lunch and then knit my little heart out.

Peace oot!
xo
lb

It's prime time, baby.

Hey, two days in a row! YESSSS!

Meeting was alright this morning, the best part being down 1.4 on the scale. That eliminates the little bit that I had gained in the past 2 weeks. Soooo, back to 40lbs right on the nose. Sweet deals.

The topic of the meeting was boring (for me), because Hallowe'en ain't no thang for me. All about the struggles of having candy around blah blah blah. I don't give anything out at halloween, I never have. I can just afford to feed myself, I'm not going to shell out any money for a bunch of kids I don't fucking know, I don't care how cute they are. Does that make me an asshole? Sure, but that's no different from the rest of the year.

And at work, there's just 2 of us in the office and neither of us have any interest in sweets like that, so also problem solved. Even if someone did bring in candy of some sort, dudes, I go to the bulk store next door 3 times a week and I don't touch any of the candy there. If you can do that in the bulk barrel, you can do that anywhere.

While I recognize the fact that people do, in fact, struggle with situations like this, it's just not an issue for me. I can buy chocolate/caramel any goddamn day of the year, no need for halloween hysteria.

The only thing I love about Halloween is that my very bestest friend Part Mom - Part Nerd was born on that very day. Happy birthday tomorrow, JK!!!!

Peace oot!
LB

Delinquent

I know. It seems I'm not so good at the blogging these days. Seems like a lot of people are saying that. Not that that excuses my laziness, but it's weird how you can see certain waves pass through the blogs you read on a regular basis.

Things are good here. Nothing earth shattering or disastrous, which is always a plus. But at the same time, nothing super fantastic or crazy awesome. I'm okay with that, because I'd have a constant "okay" than oscillating wildly from one extreme to the other.

The last 2 weeks showed tiny little gains of 0.6 and 0.8. A drag, yes, but I would have felt a lot worse if those had whole numbers in front of them.

Still not tracking, but feeling okay about it. I'm very conscious about what I'm eating and when, nothing has pushed me over any edges or made me jump the track. Sooner or later I'll be in the 250's and that will be major cause for celebration. I'll make no estimate or time frame guess, because I'm always so awful at those.

My walking is getting a lot better, and after I finally conquer the strep throat I've had since last weekend, I'll feel like a million bucks.

Hopefully I'll remember to post tomorrow after I get home from my meetin'.

Peace oot, I've missed you guys!

XO
lb

Lordy, lordy, so long forty.

DING DING DING! Right on the nose, 40.0 lbs gone forever!

Today was a good day, I went to weigh in and got the great news that I had finally hit the 40lb mark square on the nose with this week's 1.6 loss. In itself, a 40lb weight loss is fucking major business, but it's also incredibly good news because that finally puts me at under 100lbs to lose.

It feels amazing. Not gonna lie.

Today was also a good day because I finally purchased these:Yup, the frankenankle finally got the footwear it badly needs, super awesome rocker soled Shape Ups. They feel so amazing, and they hid the fusion limp that I now have really really well. Here's hoping they can work some magic my heinie as well.

So what's poppin', ya'll? What's everybody sayin'? I am going to try and get back here more often, I miss my bloggy times, I just wish I had more exciting news to share on a regular basis. Blogging about work and being sick didn't seem too exciting this week. Good thing today totally kicked some ass!

Happy thanksgiving, everyone! Keep it real, keep it (somewhat) sensible!

xo
lb

Breakfast of the Future

Let me start by saying that I'm very interested in seeing how this post will turn out. A cold is hitting me like a freight train this morning, and I just accidentally dumped a bit of oat bran in my coffee cup instead of my bowl....and I made/drank the coffee anyway. Excellent start, yes?

Things are fine here, cruditude aside (this is going to be one of those colds that will knock me on my ass, I think.) Work has been UN. REAL. But still, I'm managing to get snacks and lunch in on a fairly good schedule.

The last three weeks saw loss, but thanks to a visit from everyone's least-favourite and reluctantly welcomed Aunt, I saw a gain this week. Only 0.8, though, so I'm not upset about it. Water is a mystery to me, I wish I knew how to control what can't be controlled.

This is also the third or fourth week that I haven't tracked a goddamn thing. I don't like that I'm not tracking, I just haven't done it. Laziness is all it really is. That and I've been eating basically the same thing every day. But still, I'm setting a horrible example for myself.

Ugh, I just took the last swig of coffee and met the oat bran that was laying in wait. Blech.

I think I need to go lay down now. Oh cold/flu, please just blow over, pleeeeeeease.

xo
lb

Wa-bammo!

Another 1.2 gone this week. YESSSSSSS!

I was hoping I would see a loss this week, but due to the fact that I didn't track and my eating schedule was skew-ha, I really wasn't sure how it would go. Oh yeah, and I also had a whopping 3.2 loss last week, so I was pretty sure my body was going to be all like "what the hell, yo? I had better hold on to all of this water so I can keep you alive. Glug glug glug..."

Now that I'm walking a lot better and feeling a lot better, I am getting more and more focused on the task at hand. This renewed drive was bolstered by the photos of myself that were taken last weekend. I felt great at the time but when I saw what the camera had to say about it....GODDAMN. I have a lot of work left to do.

But I'm gonna do it. I am doing it. Well, not "doing it", you know what I mean.

It's time to dig back into the trenches and finally achieve what I want to achieve. My ankle is fused and things are getting better every day. Changing my life, dudes.

xo
lb

Why, thank you.

Mother nature and I are back on good terms. The 2.2lb gain I had last week disappeared and I lost another pound for good measure. Nice!!

So, that puts me at 37.4 pounds of lard gone forever. See ya later, don't come back. I'm inching closer and closer to the 40lb mark, and that's a big deal for me because after that, I will have less than 100lbs to go until I hit my ultimate goal weight.

I feel great today. It was a hellish week at work, but I feel great. I was paid a very nice compliment by an unlikely source last night, and it has done a lot to bolster my efforts today. I'm trying to get better with accepting compliments, but it's still not easy for me. Is this a common thing?

Now, I need a nap. I went to see a band play last night, and I'm doing that again tonight. Normal life is coming back more and more, I love it!

peace oot, and keep going!

xo
lb

Uh-hunh.

You know, I wish Mother Nature had a weight problem. Then, she could witness first hand just want the monthly female aquatic condition does to your numbers. Perhaps she'd rethink her methods and make it a much more pleasant and less angerfying experience.

So yeah, 2.2lbs up this week. I don't need to see that, but oh well, next week will be better. It always pisses me off that it's an uncontrollable element, no matter how faithful I am to the program. SIGH.

Not much else is new around here. Still trying to get this whole walking thing down. I'm out of the boot cast and occasionally down to one crutch. Long, slow recovery is right.

Oh yes, and here's what I got up to on Friday night (the colour part):



More blocks of solid coverage. Boy howdy do they smart. Above this number is my big Mr. Wrong tattoo that has lots of solid black in it. I will never learn my lesson, it seems. Right now it's still very swollen and ouchy, but I shall survive. The colours will be a little more kicky once the healing process is done.

It's time for breakfast and to get to knitting, this is my first long weekend of the summer. Funny how it's the last for everyone else :(

xo
lb

Problem Solved.

I'm late with this, I know it. But at least it's because yesterday was super busy and I had very little time to sit down and blog it out. I know, I go from complete standstill to full steam ahead. Ridiculous.

Yesterday was awesome. I started out by flying completely solo to my meeting for the first time since before my surgery. Since I started back, my dad had been picking me up from my meeting and assisting with some grocery shopping. But since my sister Norah was back on the scene (my grocery source while I was down), I was able to take the bus both to and from the meeting and then do groceries separately with her. It felt good to get another step closer to normal despite the tiredness involved.

You see, walking on crutches with the boot cast really sucked because of some really awful shin pain that I was experiencing. This pain was a mystery and it was also seriously screwing up my progress in terms of walking. NOT HAPPY. This has been a good experience but I am SO done with it. But onward I go, attempting to have patience.

The meeting was good, I talked a lot and walked away feeling good about the 0.4 I lost this week. Awesome. The night before I had gone to see "Voyage to Betterment" with my pal Aimee and it is really helping with getting my head back into this game full swing.

Last night I got to travel to Goderich, Ontario to watch my local Roller Derby gals tear it up at the arena. I spent a lot of time on Lake Huron as a kid, and being able to say hi to one of my favourite areas of this world while I was there did wonders for my spirits. And it was some good goddamn derby too, those London girls are A-1 in my books.

That left today to do some housework and putter around. I woke up, put my boot on and started to move around. Knowing that this is the last week of wearing it, I was frustrated and worried that the amount of pain I was having was going screw up my recovery schedule.

I got to thinking. I wonder what would happen if I tried to walk with just shoes on both feet. Hmmmm. HMMMMMMM. I laced up some shoes, grabbed my crutches, took a deep breath, and started to move.

And whaddya know: no pain, and walking is a million times easier. So much easier that only one crutch is really needed at this point. You have no idea how good it feels to be that much closer to walking freely.

So long and thanks for all the fish, boot cast.

My little walking victory today relates to my weight loss process, too. Sometimes you have to push your own boundaries, and get outside your comfort zone in order to achieve what you really want and desperately need: positive change.

When you think of it, that stupid comfort zone gets us into trouble more often than we choose to acknowledge. Complacency, laziness, they all stem out of that comfort zone. We need to challenge ourselves, push ourselves, scare ourselves, in order to wake up to a new scenario. Even if it fails miserably, the effort you put into it shows you just how committed you are to yourself. Think about it.

xo
lb

You know we're krush groovin'

Another week, another weigh-in. You have no idea how much I like being able to say that again.

I was up 0.2 this week which is a bit of a drag, but definitely not the end of the world. I have been walking/hobbling more this week, as well as starting physiotherapy, so all of that combined with still adjusting to getting back to work could be to blame for that little tiny gain.

Now I have to go to physio twice a week to try and get the Frankenankle in decent shape. this week I had a lot of trouble with a constant shin splint which was not a lot of fun, but hopefully it will start to subside soon.

I managed to stay on plan with my food all week, and I was a faithful tracker. This renewed focus feels good, I'm just going to roll with it as long as possible :)

In other news: I just found $5 in my bra and I don't remember putting it there. Huh.

xo
lb

Back In Action

Today was the day I went back to my Saturday routine of getting up early and heading off to fat camp. It's been a long three months and I felt strong and mobile enough to go back.

This morning's journey also served as a test run of mobility-challenged me taking the bus, which made me nervous, but I was fine. So, dad can go back to doing whatever it is he does in the mornings as I can get to work on my own.

So, let's talk numbers, shall we? 3.8 seems like a good number to talk about, and it's appropriate since that's how much I'm DOWN. Yeah, that's right, 3.8 gone whilst sitting on my ass for three months. That puts me at an even 36 lost, and it's fuel for the fire. I'm hellbent on getting the rest of this lard off me, this was definitely a good way of hitting the reset button.

Now, I'm exhausted. Dad met me after the meeting and we did my grocery shopping. I did a lot of walking on those damn crutches and I suspect I won't be able to move my arms tomorrow. Fine by me. I just need enough motion to knit, and I'll be fine.

Time to go kick back and relax. Peace oot!

xo
LB

Game On

I've got my lunch packed, complete with snacks for morning and afternoon. My water bottle is at the ready, and my new tracker is front and centre.

Today, I return to work after three long months of convalescence here at home. My normal routine is coming back and it is definitely welcome. The only missing element is my beloved Y regime, but that will start again in September. Once I'm fully mobile, back to the pool I go.

I feel good, and I feel focused. And I'll finally be able to start writing about weight loss again.

thanks for hanging in there with me!

xo
lb

Inferno

Yesterday's jaunt to see my orthopedic surgeon was well worth it! I am now weight bearing on the good ol' Frankenankle and over the next couple of weeks I can wean myself off the crutches I have to use. I have to continue wearing the boot for the next 4 weeks and then I'm in the clear!

Taking some steps yesterday felt AMAZING. I'm finally feeling closer to normal, and it's such a relief. Later on in the day I had a tattoo sitting (looks SO good, can't wait to finish it on sept 3) and my artist gave me one of the new shop t-shirts. Proudly, I can say that I had to go with the Large instead of the X-large. I have no idea how long it's been since I've been in that position.

I feel great. SO great. Back to work on Monday, meetings won't be far behind! I'm totally renewed in my mission to make myself greater.

Yes, yesterday RULED.

xo
lb

All Fired Up

Here it is, the last week of my 3 months of housebound recovery. I've been on my butt since my surgery on May 10th. Let me tell you (even though I already have), that gimpin' ain't easy.

I'm getting really excited to get a move on and be able to walk a little bit. On Wednesday, I go see Bone Doctor who will (hopefully) be telling me that it's cool to be 50% weight bearing at this point. I'll be able to walk with the aid of my crutches, and within certain limits, but it's walking just the same. I'll also be finding out what kind of physio schedule I'll have to deal with, but any progress is good!

THEN, I get to visit one of my favouritest places on earth: the tattoo shop! Oh sweet mother am I ever excited about that. I finally get to mark the end of this part of the journey.

After I get through this week, I'll be able to consider getting back to my regular meetings and really start kicking out the jams to get back on the full time weight loss train.

I'm pretty proud of the fact that I've made a real effort to stay on the wagon despite being down for so long and not being able to really weigh in. Nothing disastrous, no hopeless feeling of "can't go home again". I haven't wavered on my plans to get back to meetings as soon as I could manage it and weigh in, I haven't deviated from my long term goals. If this surgery had happened before I'd gone back to WW, there's no way I would be thinking like this. I would have given up and completely screwed myself over.

With this motivation building up, I decided to see what three months spent sitting on my ass (literally, no walkies whatsoever) has done to my measurements. Of course, since I feel like Jabba the Hut these days, I was scared to break out the tape measure to assess the damage. Curiousity won out in the end, though. And man, it was worth my while to measure up.

I've managed to ditch some inches over the past 3 months, and I'm not even talking about the 3 that I've lost off my right calf thanks to the magic of muscle atrophy.

I've lost over an inch off my waist and hips! What the what?

How does that happen when I've been completely inactive all this time? Doesn't matter, I'm just so glad to see those two numbers went down a bit. I thought for sure that they would have gone up, sometimes it's good to be wrong.

This happy news is just spurring me on to get back to the normal routine, to keep eating well and just to keep going in general. What could have totally fucked me up has given me encouragement. All systems are getting back to go. This is a very good thing.

Alright alright alright!

xo
LB

Bearing Witness

I've always said that I like going to my weekly meetings because I can identify with what everyone in the room is going through, and that sense of community and shared experience makes a huge difference in how I get through this process. It's 100% true, and I miss those people dearly, but there's another part of identification that is heartbreaking and hard to watch.

Some of my closest friends are fighting this fight as well, and despite the laughter and self-deprecating humour that we all employ, it kills me to hear the frustration and see the tears when it comes time to really talk about the fact that we're not happy with ourselves and our physical appearances. The fatigue from physical strain, the clothes that don't fit, the waning confidence, all of it. At the time in our lives when we should be happiest, we are unhappy with ourselves.

Knowing what I go through, and what I had done to myself through years of self-neglect, is one thing. But seeing these women struggle and not be comfortable in their own beautiful skin kills me because I know there's no magic word or secret handshake that I can give them to alleviate their suffering.

It's an uphill battle that everyone, to a degree, fights alone. We make the food choices, we make the exercise choices, we call the shots. And the hardest thing to admit is that we're ignoring ourselves for the sake of others, even though it sounds like the right thing to do. I did it for a long time, because I didn't feel that I deserved that kind of dedication to myself. I should be working, I should be doing this, I should be doing that instead. I let myself get like this, did this to myself, how dare I be so selfish in trying to fix it?

The day to day lives of my friends are very different from mine. Different demands on their time and attention, different careers, different circumstances. But aside from rock solid friendships, we're bound by the desire to change and save ourselves, inside and out, whatever the motivation. The spark is in all of them, and I know that each and every one of them will absolutely succeed in making their changes when the time is right for them.

Some of them read this blog, and I want to remind them that they're not alone, and that they're beautiful and successful women through and through. I know so much of what you go through physically and emotionally, and even though I hate that you have to experience some of the same negative shit that I've had to slog through, I am glad I can be here to listen and truly understand.

Whatever path any of you choose, I will support you 100% of the way, because you've done just that for me. I fight this daily battle alone, but the support I get from my friends and family is a huge factor in my success thus far.

If I can offer one piece of advice, it is this: When you decide to make a change, however small, get excited about it. Don't think of it as a task, think of it as an adventure. Even if it's something that you've tried before and it wasn't successful. Get excited about it as if it's a new experience, because really, it is. Make it fun for yourself, not something that warrants an eye roll, a curse word or a feeling of dread. It's a positive change, keep it positive at every level.

In a week or two I'll be back in action and back at my weekly meeting. I can't wait. I've missed it so goddamn much. I have a renewed mental picture of myself going forward down the line, and I'm EXCITED. I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything, but I'll gladly share it with anyone who asks.

XO
LB

In which I reach my breaking point.

Tonight is garbage night.

My landlord has been putting my garbage out on the curb for me due to my current situation of being mobility-limited.

Not so, tonight.

For some reason they put their garbage out (they live next door), and put something at the end of my driveway, but my two bags of garbage and my recycling were still in here with me. 9:30 p.m. rolled around and it's now dark out.

Yay. I get to take my awkward garbage bags out myself. In the dark. On crutches. On my gravel driveway. Super.

It went something like this: get my lame ass down the stairs on my ass, toting the nasty garbage and throw it out the door into the driveway. Then proceed to throw each bag as far as possible, and catch up to them on my crutches. Lather, rinse, repeat. It wasn't quite humiliating enough, but luckily some strangers walked by and insisted on carrying the nasty garbage the rest of the way to the curb.

I appreciate their good samaratanism, but it was fucking humiliating. I felt so goddamn pathetic at that point, I almost started crying on my way back into the house. I am frustrated with this shit. My dependency on others is driving me INSANE.

I am sick of these fucking crutches, the walker and the wheelchair. I am sick of having to concoct ridiculous schemes to get everyday chores done. I am sick of having a foot I can't put any weight on. I am sick of THIS WHOLE SCENARIO.

Honestly, I just want to scream.

xo
lb

Tubby Tub

I started the day feeling like a total tub, but another journey to the centre of the basement helped lift that stupid mood a bit. Because, dudes, that is a process and a half. This time, I was toting the shitter litter box down to get scrubbed out because Team Goombah was starting to stink out the joint.

These are the culprits, clearly drunk:


It's quite a production getting anything physical accomplished when it's all being done on 1 foot and with some sort of assisting device (today's tool is: crutches!). Add to the fact that my basement has a super low ceiling and ducts running everywhere, and it's all comedy. Banging of heads, spider freakouts, exasperated sighs. Why there isn't a camera crew following me, I'll never know.

Calamity aside, my forays into more physical activity are definitely helping to lift my depression. The end of this part of my recovery is in sight, and I'm getting closer to being back in my normal routine of lard ditching and weight loss focus. With each new task (not that there have been too many), I feel like I'm helping my lazy ass out a little, and that will help when I'm able to kick this back into high gear later on.

Of course, all of this activity talk aside, I plan on planting my butt on the couch and knitting after I make some lunch. Whatevs, at least I'm honest.

xo
lb

The old new normal.

I've been sitting for almost three months. Not an exaggeration by any stretch of the imagination. The last time I took any normal steps was May 10th. Since then, life has been conducted from my wheelchair and my couch.

I don't like this temporary norm. I am dying to get back to the old new normal of self-transformation. I want to go back to writing about my weight loss victories and process. I want to go back to my talk of the war measures act and the insanity of going to the gym at 6:00 a.m. I want to get this show back on the road.

Bear with me, weight loss peeps (that's why a lot of you are reading, I know). I'll be back to my routine soon. I'll be back to kicking out the lard ditching jams and rambling on about it, swearing about it, come what may.

I've impressed myself already, actually. Three months off the official wagon would do some people in, it would be so easy to throw in the towel. My brain remains rewired, and the master plan has stayed in the back of my head the whole time.

Just gotta get through to August, back to the old new normal.

xo
lb

Journey to the Centre of the Basement

It had to be done. For more than one reason, it had to be done.

The sister that has been handling my laundry while I've been on lockdown hasn't been able to make it over for a couple of weeks, and the pile of laundry has been getting bigger. Mind you, couple the humid heat with the fact that I spend most days completely on my own and it results in my lounging around in my skivvies most days.

However, laundry needed to be done. And I needed to accomplish something.

The whole "screeching halt" of this recovery has been very difficult to deal with. I have a lot of trouble asking people for help. It's a pride and independence thing. I constantly feel like I'm imposing on people even if they offered in the first place. This whole process has done nothing to cure me of that problem, and if anything, it has made it worse.

Yesterday, I decided it was time to get my ass in gear. And I mean that quite literally. I packed up the laundry bag, the phone (I'm stupid, but I'm no moron. I don't want to wind up sprawled out on the floor until someone finds me), I corralled the cats so that they were not able to escape the apartment, and I headed towards the stairs.

Yup, I bummed my way down two flights of stairs toting my laundry and my walker, and despite the grossness of the spiders I encountered, I made it. I chilled out in an old lawn chair while the wash was in and that was that. Then, I had to crawl up the spidery stairs again and got back to my apartment. Let me tell you, as sad as it sounds, I was exhausted.

Beyond the dirt, the spiders and the sweatiness, it was worth it. I gained back a little bit of my independence and got some clean gitch out of it. Not bad for a day's work. AND I get to do it all again to get it all out of the dryer this afternoon. Oh god, the excitement of it all.

In a few weeks, this recovery will move on to the next stage: back to the life more ordinary. Back to work, back to WW, into physio. Not a minute too soon, either. I need to take back control of my life.

xo
lb

Jabba don't knit.

Do you have any idea how much I wish knitting counted as cardio, or some kind of conditioning? Like, shit. I'd be able to bounce quarters off of any body part at any given time if that were the case. And I sure as hell wouldn't feel so much like Jabba the Hut these days.

With every day that drags by around here, more and more I'm dying to get moving again and re-launch the great assault on the lard. I miss being in the pool for Deep Water Aquafit and busting out a sweat on some scary piece of equipment. There's so much I want to achieve, and I am feeling so stuck here right now while I want for my ankle to fuse properly.

Last night, I couldn't sleep. That's nothing shocking since it seems to be how things are now. I got to thinking about what I want to achieve once I can walk and do stuff again. I'm still super sad that I didn't get to put my skates to good enough use before I had deal with my self-destructing ankle. I read some research about post-ankle fusion activity and apparently skating (ice or roller) is still do-able after the ankle has been fused, which fills my heart with nervous joy because being a ref is something I still want to do so fucking badly. I don't know if I'll be able to, because every ankle fusion is different, but the study did make me hold on to whatever hope I had left for it.

Gah. I have to stop thinking about it for now, it's making me dislike the current state of things even more.

In the food department: everything rules. Good choices, good food. Lots of cooking effort despite the melty heat. It's raining here today which has taken the edge off. Good times, good times.

Peace oot,
xo
lb

PS: Oh yes! Be sure to take a wander over to Hot Across Buns! My pal Steff and her partner in crime are serving up some serious sass with their Ass-o-gram Derby Gitch and shirts! Hell, I'm ditching as much lard as possible so I can properly express my feelings...with my butt! Their stuff is super fun, and definitely worth a gander!

Hot child in the city.

The heat continues here in London-town, hot hot hot. Things are alright here in the Fortress of Solitude, very much the same as every single day of the past couple of months. I wake, I knit, I heal, I sleep.

Last night I busted out of the confines and sat on the porch. Hot as blazes, but I still managed to get a sock done in a couple of hours. My pal and tattoo artist Anthony stopped by to pick up my concept sketch for the new piece we're starting in August, thanks to the gift certificate my awesome and amazing graphic design pals gave me for my birthday in May. Lots of colour, lots of fun, I can't wait to get it started.

Food wise it's just been more of the same, except that I ate some kick ass points destroying pizza last night. Nothing to hide, here. And let me tell you, it was goddamn DELICIOUS. Back to the norm again today, though. A big pan of roasted veggies for supper tonight, despite the heat. Brussel sprouts, carrots, onion, sweet potato. YUM.

Back to the needles to finish sock pair #30. I honestly do not know what I would have done without the project I'm working on while I recover. I'm having problems with depression at the moment because of being house bound and mobility limited. I shudder to think about how I'd be feeling if I didn't have a productive task to fill my days, because this feels shitty enough.

Pass me that yarn, it's time to get back down to business.


xo
lb

Ain't no thang.

Saturday was a much needed tune up for me, and my concerns about screwing my brain over seem to be, so far, fading away. My focus remains on the two big tasks at hand: letting my ankle heal as it needs to heal, and keeping my food on the right path in order to ditch this lard.

That taste or normalcy, seeing both familiar and new faces, feeling the community lifted my spirits and really got my head back in the game. Next month I will get back to my regular life (with some limitation, true), and get back to functioning in the outside world. With my regained focus I know I won't be overwhelmed or panicked, I'll be cool like Fonzie. I just have to learn how to walk again (for the third time, actually), no biggie.

It's hot as shit around here, Southern Ontario really kicks ass when it comes to hot and humid summers. I was up at 2 this morning and the humidex was still over 30 degrees. Right now, it's registering at a lung-punching 40 degrees (that's 104 degrees for you american readers).

I'm hibernating in the air conditioned fortress of solitude, but still (crazily enough) considering going outside to knit. I'm sure I'll come to my senses soon enough.

Peace out,
LB

The second thought, the back to the first.

It occurred to me last night, what if going to my meeting today makes the next 5+ weeks even more difficult mentally? Should I have just gone for the burn and stayed away until I could go back every week?

The question sounds silly, yes, but I do wonder if I'm screwing my brain here. Saturdays without my normal and needed ritual have totally sucked, will I make it worse by going today when I know I can't go back until at least a month from now?

It doesn't matter, because I'm still going. I need to see the people, I need to hear them talk. I just need some of the good normalcy back. I need to get out of here for a little while.

I did manage to get on the scale the other night, but I doubt the number it showed me was accurate since it was me standing on one foot, but if it's true, I'm at the 39lb mark right now. That shows a 6 lb loss while I've been home. I'll keep that in my brain for now, until they can tell me something more accurate.

Off I go, to where I need to be today. I need it more than ever.

xo
lb

Unearthed.

I managed to dig out two very important components of this ongoing battle. Two items that have been heavily neglected while I've been off the books and off the radar. And believe me, in my current condition, digging any kind of shit out of anywhere is a challenge.

Today saw the resurrection of all my Weight Watchers print materials and my water bottle. I would say that, besides my tracker, these who things are the things that keep me on the wagon. And honestly, shame on me for neglecting them.

Drinking water is easy. Right? Sure. But I haven't been doing it. When talking about it with my sister Norah, we agreed that water drinkage is the the easiest thing in the world when you're at work because it's a matter of: "I'm so fucking bored, what can I do...oh yeah, go get some water!" but being a home, especially now that my mobility is a drag, is a completely different story.

I sit. All day. Really, hours go by before I realize that either I haven't moved, or that I've moved and forgotten to get something to drink. By the time I clue in, I don't feel like hoisting myself back into the wheels of steel to get myself a drink. I don't think to fill up any sort of water bottle to carry around with me. Goddamn ridiculous.

So, welcome back, water bottle.

The other essential element that is back from the depths of storage is the printed materials. For everyone who isn't involved with WW, for the first 10 weeks you get a new booklet covering the different aspects of losing weight through WW, mental attitudes, activity etc. They're amazing and I regret letting go of them for this long. I can't wait to sit down and go through them again to really get my head back into this game (albeit from the sidelines).

Regaining my focus is starting to help with the depression that has set in. I'm still climbing the walls and feeling low, but getting back on track with this process is helping. Saturday will go a long way too.

I'm off to load up on water and get to readin' stuff.

peace oot

LB

Refocus.

I started tracking again today. Over the past 6 weeks, I haven't been writing anything down, mostly because I knew that I was well within my daily allowance. Nothing crazy, nothing out of the ordinary.

But still, I was feeling removed and unfocused on the ultimate task at hand. I've already talked about missing my weekly meetings and weigh-ins, but after giving it a fair bit of honest thought this afternoon, I realized I was missing the whole deal.

So, I called pops and asked him to take me to my usual meeting on Saturday (I got permission to sit in on the meeting) and I started writing down what is happening food-wise.

It feels good that i'm back to taking action. Yes, I was towing the line, but half assedly. I may not be able to weigh in or go to the gym, but at least I'm doing something. It counts.

xo
lb

And I'm runnin', Police on My Back

So, I've managed to nail my head three times on my open bathroom window today, AND I managed to kill my camera. Dead dead dead. I also had a mishap involving a grain of cat litter and my eye, but I'm choosing not to tell anyone about that.

Yup, it's been a totally radical day so far.

On the great bone fusion of 2010 goes. I paid a visit to bone doctor last wednesday where the purple cast of awesome was FINALLY removed from my leg. Let me tell you: fibreglass casts and hot/humid Ontario summers do not get along well. Not one bit. When the nurse cut that mammajamma off my leg, what was contained within (besides 6 weeks of leg hair growth) was nasty. A splendid cast rash that still hasn't totally gone away, despite slathering it with that stuff you use on baby butts.

I'm still not weight bearing, I get to hop around for another 6 weeks, but the fact that I get to wear (and not wear) my removable boot cast is totally awesome.

Thank god I held on to my aircast from the initial shitshow seven years ago, otherwise I would have been out a nice $200. This thing is rad even if just for the fact that you can adjust the air pressure depending on how swollen or bombed out your ankle is feeling.

I think I need to sit in on a meeting soon. I am just missing it much too much. I need to calibrate my brain a bit and a meeting would do the trick for sure. Still can't weigh in, but I can't worry about that now.

I'll leave you with my favourite Clash track at the moment. I'm knee deep in Sandinista! while I knit, thank god it's a triple album.




Peace oot, all.

XO
LB

Spatula City

My handy helpful hint o' the day: if you're going to be spending 3 months cooped up in your home, especially if it's a small-ish apartment, make sure you have cable television.

I went into this shit thinking I'd be alright, that four years of only 2 somewhat clear channels on my ancient television had toughened me up. I was wrong. And now that the constant broadcast of soccer games on one of those channels has cancelled out whatever variety was left, I have confirmed that I'm a dumbass for not giving in.

Mind you, I have a shitload of movies and books here with me, but part of me needs the variety of flipping through the channels to either find something ridiculous to watch, or confirm that I'm not missing anything. I need that brain drain.

I'm not going to bother getting it hooked up now since I'm halfway through this deal, but I will make a mental note if this situation arises again down the line (oh god help me if it does).

Also, if you're gonna have your ankle fused, spend as much time as possible building up your leg muscles beforehand. This hopping around shit is killing me, and I'm pretty sure my left (uninjured) leg is just going to refuse to do any more sometime soon. Nope, sorry lady, you're on your own.

So, cable tv and killer leg muscles, that's what you need. Trust me.

xo
LB

If we cannot work it out, we're gonna have to fight.

jeez. You'd think that since I had all kinds of time on my hands, I'd be posting more often even if just out of sheer boredom. Doesn't seem to be the case.

I'm still under orthopedic lock-up, still healing, the usual. I'm almost at the halfway mark (ugh.)

I'm trying to switch up my menu this week and go for more meats and vegetables, less of the same old shit. Nothing bad has been happening here food-wise, I just need to get even more back to basics in what I'm eating.

Not going to my weekly meetings is a fucking drag and a half. Not being able to get on a scale is even worse because I don't fully know what's happening in terms of numbers. I can't even go with the "oh, it feels like I'm losing/gaining/maintaining" because all I'm doing is laying or sitting around all goddamn day. Honestly, I feel like stupid Jabba the Hut most of the time.

Hopefully this week they'll put me in the removable aircast. that will do a bit for my brain because it denotes progress. I won't be weight bearing yet, but that doesn't matter much, it is another phase of this recovery and I need to move forward.

On a side note: big ups to my best friend Julie over at Part-Mom, Part-Nerd. She's such a good friend that she couldn't let me suffer through broken bones and super cool casts by myself so she up and broke a small bone in her foot last weekend. I plan on preaching to her about the power and usefulness of a thermos and an apron with many pockets for food transport. Keeping your foot elevated all day fucking sucks. Solidarity, sister.

Not much else going on around here. A bunch of my pals that I went through graphic design with chipped in and got me a hefty gift certificate for use at my tattoo shop and I went and booked my time this week. Holy shit, how fucking exciting is that! YAYAYAYAY! August 4th is the day of days and I can't wait. The finished product will be ridiculous and fun, and will most likely hurt like a son of a bitch, but oh well. Ain't no thang.

Time to forage for some lunch, turn up Black Sabbath's "Never Say Die!" album and get to knitting.



Peace oot!

XO
LB

Voices from the War.

I'm dying to get back to the gym.

No, I never thought I would utter those words, but I just did. And brothers and sisters, word is bond.

I am missing the Y so much, I actually woke up and felt really and truly frustrated that I couldn't just throw on some gym clothes and boot it down there for at least a swim. This feeling stems not only from the whole surgery/recovery thing, but also because I stopped a month or two before my surgery. I miss it. I miss the benefits of it, and how it improved all aspects of my health.

Also, I miss the knowledge that I was physically improving myself. I miss being confident in the fact that I was helping my situation and working toward something I've wanted longer than I can remember. I miss being in the trenches and fighting the good fight.

I still have another 2 1/2 weeks in this cast, and then 6 weeks in the boot (still not weight-bearing). I'm doing what I can do while I'm still out of commission but it ain't the same. I am actually feeling the physical need for exercise and focus. I can feel the War Measures Act quietly shouting out commands in the back of my mind, reminding me that it's still there. Fucking right.

The day that I can get back to my meetings, back on the scale and back to the gym can't come too soon, even if it's just in the pool at first.

Come on, August.

xx
lb

Start wearing purple for me now.

Ladies and gentlemen, cast number two:

Yup, a big, purple fibreglass cast. This one stays on for the next 4 weeks, then I'll probably be moving into the air cast thing. That thing rules because it's removable. I dream of such things right now.

So, I have a big 6-7 inch incision, and I'm told I have 6 screws and a plate in there. I'm going to order a disc of my x-rays next time so I can gross everyone I know out. Isn't that what facebook is for?

I think I might have lost a bit of weight. I neglected to wear a belt today and the whole time my pants were hanging off my ass. Thank god I wore decent underwear.

So yeah, that's wednesday's funsies. Time for lunch and a nap. I thought I only turned 35 on Sunday, but apparently I turned 80. Oh well.

xo
lb

Driven to distraction.

So bored. SO very bored.

yes, I'm knitting and watching movies, but this whole orthopedic lock-up jazz has got me a bit down. I have a hankerin' to go for a walk or a swim or something. No freaking dice.

I'm blogging because I'm procrastinating. Pathetic, really, since I have all of TWO things I should be doing right now. One is getting the garbage together so my landlord can put it on the curb tonight and the other is shaving my leg. Yup, just one leg. But can I be motivated to do either of those things? No sir!

Instead I'm posting a blog instead of putting myself through the torture that is All My Children (seriously, could that show be any shittier and low budget?!?).

My weight remains a complete mystery to me since I can't physically weigh in. I've been eating pretty right-on, so I can't be too far off the mark. Ho hum.

Alright, so best laid plan avoidance gone to waste, my ankle is all swollen up due to the humidity around here (but I love this weather anyway) so off I go to balance precariously on one foot while I get shit done.

peace oot
LB

'Allo mate, 'ow ya keepin'?

See above for the reason I haven't been around much. That big white thing is cast #1 after having my ankle fused last monday. It's awkward and non-stylish, but it does a great job of containing my wounded paw.

Dude, not gonna lie, this shit HURTS. Being upright, defined as doing anything that doesn't have my leg elevated above my heart, causes the worst kind of cartoon Wile E. Coyote foot in the world, and gives me what I think is the equivalent to being pounded on the shin with a huge wooden mallet (you know, Kathy Bates in Misery style).

Apparently, the surgery went well, but I won't know much more until I head back to bone doctor's for my first follow-up appointment next week. That's when I finally get to find out what kind of hardware I'm packing these days. It's been 7 years since I sported 12 pins and a big plate in that ankle.

So yeah, I am doing my best to write when I can (note that it's 2:43 on a sunday morning, and the drugs are wearing off too early), but I'm here. I swear. And I'm eating, but staying on the rails.

I'll be back, most likely at some ungodly hour.

xo
lb

Strange Days, Indeed.

Not being at my meeting yesterday morning was weird, and something I didn't enjoy. It's the thing that I do on Saturdays, it's the one thing I always really look forward to. I didn't bother stepping on the scale yesterday here at home, because what my weight reads is probably the furthest thing from my mind right now (for real).

Tomorrow is my surgery and let me tell you: I'm fucking shitting bricks over here. I have to spend the rest of my day getting this pig sty sorted out so that I can be an invalid all summer. It's almost there, but I've been living in that state of moving crap, where everything you own is everywhere and nothing can move until everything moves.

I am stressed out TO. THE. MAX. The fear of what's happening to me tomorrow is totally kicking my ass. My pride and vanity are taking the brunt of it, since I really hate asking for help and will be losing something like a half inch of height off my right leg thanks to the ankle joint that's going bye-bye. I just have to breathe deep, roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation and keeeep going.

I'll catch you dudes on the flip side. I'm on my ass for three months, there will definitely be blogging involved.

xo
lb

Downtown Debbie Downer

The two focal points of my daily/weekly schedule are now on hold. Yesterday was my last day of work and this morning was my last weigh-in until August.

Not gonna lie, I'm bummed. And scared. Very very scared.

A week from Monday I go under the knife and then proceed to sit for the following three months. Not going to work every day and not going to my meeting every week is going to be rough because I will miss a lot of people that I like interacting with on a frequent basis.

Recovery will mean a lot of time alone, sat on my ass. The appeal of this will wear off in the first few days, I can almost guarantee. It seems strange to some, but a lot of fat chicks (and fat guys, too) aren't the sedentary sloths they are made out to be by the media and stereotypes. I, for one, do not sit around eating bon bons and shitty food while watching shitty tv night after night. I don't snack after dinner is over, and I'm not afraid of physical activity early in the morning (Dear YMCA, I miss you. Love, Lesley). Even with my stupid ankle problems, I still walked to and from work every day (except for one morning when I was seriously behind schedule). Half the time I needed my cane to do it, but I still did that 20 minute hike twice a day. Yes, it hurt, but goddamn it, I needed it. I miss my early morning workouts and can't wait until I can get in the pool again. And I will so miss my two walks a day while I heal up.

I am curious to see how the whole weight thing plays out while I'm down. It will be a pretty strictly controlled food schedule and since someone else will be doing my shopping for me, it's all public. I think this will be a good thing, because goddamn, that's accountability right there. My dad isn't about to load me up with shit food and turn a blind eye. No way.

The real kicker (no pun intended) is that I will have no idea what's happening numbers-wise. Thanks to zero weight tolerance and a huge cast on my leg, I won't physically be able to stand on the scale. I'll only have an idea by the way I'm feeling (and if you know anything about me, you'll know that's absolutely no help because I totally suck at interpreting my lose/gain situation week to week).

So, here we go. Off the books and onto healing and recovery next week. This should be a good read for all you regulars, because you'll be able to chart my descent into Colonel Kurtz madness. And when I get hauled off to jail for pinging off asshole cyclists riding on the sidewalk with my sling shot, you can shake your head and mutter with complete confidence "I totally saw that coming."

peace oot
LB

Two for Flinching.

You know that feeling when you know what's coming, you brace yourself but you still totally flinch and groan when it hits? That explains this morning's jaunt to fat camp.

I knew I was up because I had stopped taking my usual vitamins etc. in preparation for my surgery (as originally instructed). Of course, being the brain surgeon I am, I timed it wrong and really don't have to go off them until next week. But, my body wasted no time in reacting to this change and, despite staying on plan and tracking like a motherfucker, I was treated to a whopping 3.2 gain. Oh hooray. Whatevs. Shit will change.

In other news:

I chopped off my hair. I don't have a pic of it yet because not only have I misplaced my battery charger, the camera might be dead. It's super cute (my hair, not my camera) and I dig it. Much better than the ratty grown out shit I was dealing with. Plus, it's a little more obvious that I've lost weight in my face with this 'do.

Still knitting socks, and hopefully finishing a sweater this weekend (I say that every weekend). I want an apartment full of socks by the time my recovery time is done. Then I will ship them all away to deserving feet up north. It's my recovery mission.

I totally had cast envy today at my meeting. D showed up wearing a neat-o black cast boot. Infinitely cooler than my boring grey one. So jealous!!!!!! I need to plaster mine with stickers or something, make it more mine. I already have a Rollergirl sticker on it, it improves it on many levels.

Oh yeah, my surgery got pushed back to the 10th thanks to OR closures. PISS. ON. THAT. Oh well, it's only an extra 6 days, but my brain was ready for the 4th. Bleah

xo
lb

insert swear word here.

As if my stupid surgery got pushed back a week. Piss on that noise.

xo
lb

Winding down

Man, another little gain this week, which sucks. But, whatever, it's just a mere 0.8. No tantrums, no swearing (ahah yeah right, it'll happen, probably not about the gain though).

Two more weigh-in weeks to go before I fall off the scale radar (but definitely not the wagon). I'm so going to miss my weekly meetings. Three months is going to be hard to do when I haven't missed a weekly meeting in well over a year. I'm glad that my brain is thinking ahead to when I'll be able to go back and see those great people every week.

Notice the terminology used: WHEN I go back, not IF. There's no way in hell I won't go back. Despite the need for me to be laid up for three months thanks to the surgery, the minute I'm able to go back, I'll be there with fucking bells on. (Ah, there you are, profanity. Didn't take long...)

I'm at a plateau again, but I'm not freaking out at all. Mildly annoyed, yes, but not freaking out. Part of me is winding down to surgery time, where I know things are going to change a lot. I have no idea how this recovery period will affect my weight. I know that it went down a fair bit after the original big surgery because I was a starving student. Now I'm a starving professional, so not much change there. And, others will be doing me shopping for me (talk about keeping shit real, all public, all the time), and since I'll be limited to what i can carry to and fro, portion control will be a big deal. Of course, the scales of weight loss justice must be balanced, and that's where sitting on my ass not able to do much activity comes into play. Hand weights, yes, everything fun, no.

But I'll still be fighting the fight, which is most important. And leading up to the surgery, it's a real "que sera sera" attitude. I'm still in it to win it, but I won't beat myself up over the little gains or losses.

xo
lb

Now, lookit...

(You have to hear either my sister Jennifer or me say that title out loud, our mom used to start off everything warning and/or scolding with that. When she said it, she meant business.)

I just got back from the hospital for my pre-admission appointment. For the two or three people on the face of the planet that don't know, my screwed up ankle is being fused in a couple of weeks. That means Bone Doctor is removing my destroyed osteoarthritic ankle joint and replacing it with big screws and forcing all the bone to grow together. That results in a foot that has no range of motion and is permanently in a fixed position. Basically, I will always be physically ready to kick your ass.

Anyhow, they get all of the basics out of the way before the actual day, which is a good since I don't think I'll feel like doing this at my 6 a.m. surgery call on the actual day. Everything went swimmingly, got my vitals taken (their scale reads heavy, by the way.) and I was assured that my heart would not explode during surgery. That's always good to know. Very comforting.

Yes, everything was dandy except for the chat I had with Dr. Anesthesiologist. Second day on the job and there was a language barrier, but whatevs, I have complete faith in his abilities and he's very friendly. He wouldn't say anything that would throw me into a panic, right? Hmmm....

We were completely cool until he told me that they're going to do an epidural and a local anesthetic so I would actually be AWAKE during the surgery.

HAHAHAHAHHA, I said. NO.

I made him very aware that I do not want to hear, see or smell anything happening in that room that day. Mama said knock me out. Seriously. I woke up halfway through getting my wisdom teeth out and it scarred me for life.

He made a note that I can tell the sleep doctor that I want a general anesthetic on the day, and I can tell you, I will tell everyone I talk to that day that "MAMA SAID KNOCK ME OUT." I will dress up like LL Cool J if I have to in order to get my point across.

The promise of headphones and Propofol does not make me feel better. Give me the gas and tell me to count backwards from 100. Guaranteed I'll punk out at 96. I don't want to hear the conversations being had and bone doctor telling someone to pass him the mallet. I don't need to hear the bone drill and I CERTAINLY don't want to hear any part of me thunking onto any sort of tray so that it can be admired outside of my body.

My freak-out level has been elevated, I would suggest you all build some sort of rock solid shelter you can go hide in, because I'm 2 1/2 weeks away from the orthopedic shitshow and it's just gonna get worse leading up to the fusion bomb detonation.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

xo
LB

Where I always wanted to be, I never had to leave.

When I was little, I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up. Usually the answer changed daily. In fact, one day, when i was about 5 years old. I marched down the stairs and announced as I got to the breakfast table "When I grow up, I want to be an Indian." It took my mom a few minutes to really explain how that wasn't going to work out for me and the next day I announced that I was going to be a fireman. I can still hear my mom's exasperated sigh and the "You know, sweetie..." that often came after it.

As I got a bit older, my mind still drifted down the road, but it was never really about a career. I looked at the older people around me and how they lived their lives. It was a lifestyle that I looked forward to, not a career.

It dawned on me today, when I caught the glint of my sparkly grey hairs in the mirror at work, and then my reflection in a store window on my way home. I am what I always wanted to be. Grown-up but still me.

Walking downtown, headphones on, grey hair with a Bad Brains hoodie, big girl job but plenty of ink in my skin, worn down stickers on my cane, always a backpack, never a purse, thirty-four going on twenty-one, smarter than I think, smarter because I think, mistakes behind me, mistakes ahead of me, all of them mine.

I'm where the 11 year old me wanted to be. This is a success that can't be measured in gross vs. net. It can't be taxed or rated. It can't be discounted or disqualified.

And it means the world to me, and only me. Then and now.

xo
lb

multi-faceted.

oh blog. Poor, neglected blog. I am here, and I swear I'll be here more often soon enough. I think we need to expand our current relationship. I come here (almost) every week to blab about the flab. Chat about the fat. Bitch about the lard (hey, you think of a witty rhyme for "lard"). But there's more to me than that, and in turn, there should be more to you.

And really, i'm going to be housebound for three months, just try to stop me from blabbing about ankle fusion, knitting and cabin fever. there's a good chance I'll be living the Rear Window dream of spying on my neighbours in my invalid state. Fuck knows I won't be talking about weigh-ins each week since I have to put that on hold for a while due to healing and such.

I still be going on and on and on about weight loss and all that shit, but I'm bringing more to the table.

well, I'll get someone else to carry it to the table, do you know how hard it is to carry stuff around when you're all crutchy? that's right.

Yeah, blog. This summer will be all about us. Three more weeks until we can really get to kicking out the jams, homey.

(shit, I hope I'm not reading this in september thinking "oh yeah, that....")

Fat report: up 1.6 this week. Mother Nature is a mean girl. I swear.

Ankle report: shitty. The cane reappeared this week. Fuck that.

Knitting: yes. always.

Other: Whoever is dressing Tyra this season should be shot. I hate this 80's shit. Also, Gossip Girl is really going down the shitter. they should have stayed in high school forever. I am FAR too old to be watching that show. Oh well.

Oh god blog, it can only get better from here. I just talked about Gossip Girl.

xo
lb

the old college try

hmmmm. blog. blog blog blog.

I don't really have anything to say, but I don't want to let a week go by without posting something.

What.

Should.

I.

Write?

Ummmmmmmmm I could start out by telling them I was down 0.2 this week. Yes! that's a good start.

This week I was down 0.2. Nothing drastic, but down just the same.

Wow. That didn't take very long. Just one line. That's not much of a blog post.

Maybe if I just start typing the titles of CD on the shelf that's at eye level. Would they notice? I dunno. Road to Ruin by the Ramones. Pledge of Defiance by Total Chaos. Electric Aunt Jemima by Frank Zappa. Ill Communication by Beastie Boys. Wrong by Nomeansno. Everything Sucks by Descendents.

Okay, I'm pretty sure they'd notice that. Shit.

Party Time for Assholes by the Vindictives.

Yeah, they'd definitely notice that. Better not.

I wonder how long I would have to type before it was totally clear that I have nothing to say today.

Probably down to right about here.

xo
lb

I meant it when I said it.

Remember those 2 lbs I said could eff off last week? Well, I meant it. So much that 1.8 of them got the hell outta dodge this week. Good riddance. I realized late in the week that I had fallen back into my habit of not eating a good balance of my points during the day. I've been buying soup on sale that is only 2 points and chowing down on that almost every day. They're filling but shit dudes, that leaves SO many points for dinner. Gotta balance it out and get back to my 8 point lunches. Then some ass-kicking on the scale will happen.

I got to my meeting this morning anxious to see what kind of week D had (I wrote about her last week). While she was up on the scale, this time she knew exactly why it happened and was fine with it. Also, they had the final session of an extreme makeover program at her place of work and while she was dreading getting measured again, it turns out that she's lost 14 inches in 9 weeks. That did wonders for D, and it was so nice to see her back in the swing of things. She's a sweet lady and she came directly over to me to say thank-you for last week. I told her that's what the meetings are all about, and it was my pleasure. Which it was.

It really hit me this week, just how much I am going to miss my saturday morning meetings. Three months will be a long time not to sit in that room and talk/laugh about problems or victories. I'm glad that I know it's just temporary, and that come August, I'll be able to go back and stand on that scale.

I'm still getting ready for the orthopedic blitzkrieg. Getting my house ready, or "hobbleable" as I put it, training my replacement at work starts on Monday, going over in my head what I'll need to gather for the duration. I have so many amazing family members and friends willing to help me out while I'm down, it's incredibly humbling.

Man, I'm totally procrastinating though. I should be moving furniture. But....here I blog. Oh well, there's always tomorrow, and then there's a holiday on Friday due to Good Friday. Sweeet. I loves me a short work week.

Peace oot, doods.
LB

Witnessing a breaking point

You know, if you go to any kind of regularly scheduled, structured meeting, you know what to expect. You know when you'll arrive, you know what the usual motions are, you know when the show will get on the road, and more often than not, you know who will be there.

This rings true for my Saturday morning meeting. There are a few of us that are always there, never choosing to go to an alternate meeting time or location. I like that, because I get to experience this lengthy journey with some very nice people.

When shit happens, you know it. And yesterday's meeting was no exception. We were sitting around waiting for the meeting to start at its usual time, some people were still weighing in. A couple of us had whipped out some knitting (I actually uttered "there's nothing I love more than seeing a purse that isn't mine loaded up with yarn.") and we were shooting the shit about the week.

There's a lady who faithfully attends every meeting, I'll refer to her as "D". Every Saturday morning she sits down front so she can hear, and she loves loves loves our meetings. She has a fantastic husband who does all the cooking with her program needs in mind. Sometimes one of her daughters (also a member) comes with her, and yesterday I wished this had been one of those weeks.

D saw a gain on the scale and D got VERY upset. Not the usual level of frustration that we all tend to show (mine being "ah man, what the fuck?", others showing more class and less swears). She threw her record booklet across the floor and was near tears.

And would you fucking believe that none of the women sitting near her did a goddamn thing to help her out or see what the problem was? So, I put down my knitting, walked over, picked up her book and marched right over to her and did what I could to talk her down. It was a place we've all been to, especially the ladies sitting behind her who have been going to WW since the 1970's.

D had faithfully followed program all week to the letter, and she still went up 1.4. She's been at it for a long time and, in her words, "only lost 26lbs". I put my arm around her and I said "those 26lbs would still be on you if you chose not to make a change, and you know it". It helped her to know that almost everyone in the room gained this week, myself included with a whopping 2lbs. We joked that there was something in the air in that room that made us all heavier this week.

But D was still pissed off, and I told her that it's alright to be mad and frustrated, but you gotta take a deep breath and keep going. Fuck knows I've taken plenty of deep breaths in the past little while, and it's those deep breaths that keep us alive sometimes.

D will be fine. She will go back, do some fine tuning and get back on the path she wants to be on. She needed to vent, she needed a friend, she was at a breaking point (not THE breaking point, just A breaking point, there's a difference). She'll be down front next week, and I will be glad to see her.

We all have a million breaking points in us, some bigger than others. Sometimes those breaking points will change your life, sometimes they will change your mind, sometimes they affect a seemingly tiny change in your life. But they're all important, and we all need them.

Breaking points are always turning points.

And, by the way, fuck those 2lbs I gained. They won't be here for long.

xo
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Walk the line, or at least limp it

Well, I'm happy to say that I'm still alive and relatively unscathed after that bout with the Ebola Virus or whatever the fuck that was last week. Today, I expected a gain at the scales, and I wasn't wrong, but it definitely not as bad as I thought it would be. Only up 1.4, which is pretty rad. That brings the total to 39lbs of lard successfully ditched.

As my surgery approaches, I'm forced to evaluate what I do in everyday life that costs money, and I know that I'll have to suspend my WW membership sooner than later. I might keep it going until the weekend before my surgery, but honestly money is money and the more I have saved up before my medical leave, the better. But we'll see. It's one of the very few things I do every week, so I might allow myself my meetings right up until the bitter, arthritic end.

Two people have asked me if I'm worried about the 3 months I'll be spending off-program. Will I give up? Will I go off the rails? Is the year+ of work I've done going to go right out the window?

I can confidently say "No."

One of the main points is this process is that it's a lifestyle change. Not a whim, not a notion, it's an overhaul of mind and habit. I enjoy the way I've chosen to do this, no matter how frustrated I may get. If anything, my time off will help me even further in my progress because I will be telling people what to buy if they go to the store for me, I will be completely and publicly accountable for the food in my house. Plus, I'm going to be cooped up in my apartment, far from any food courts, fast food, or tim hortons. The safety margin is nice and wide, and I know I will be alright.

Once I'm well enough, I'll be able to start swimming again and getting back into physical training, but that will be a slow and crazy process. Tons of physio and learning how to cope with a fused ankle that forces me to move differently.

I thought it was a good question though, because it really wouldn't be surprising if people did use a situation like mine to say "oh fuck it, I'll start over again when I'm well, pass the ribs." But I know that I'm focused and on a FAR better path than I was just over a year ago. Just gotta keep going no matter what gets thrown my way.

Oh god, I sound like a fucking motivational speaker. Spare me.

xo
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It looks nice, for now.

Yes, looking at my ticker it says that I've hit the 40lb mark. In fact, my official stat is that i've lost 40.2lbs.

I know, there should be confetti, bells, whistles and an oom-pah band playing roll out the barrels. But, it's not an honest milestone.

I didn't lose 5.4lbs this week because I followed plan and worked out like a motherfucker. I didn't channel some supreme motivation or weight loss god to get me through. Those pounds came off as a result of a brutal flu I've been battling since wednesday. I've sweated and shivered those pounds away, not to mention some other methods of expulsion that needn't be detailed.

Still, it's nice to see for now. That .2 at the end of it means that I have less than 100lbs to go from here on in. I know that as I get better, my weight will go back to where it should be, and it might be a while before I hit the 40lb mark again, but since I feel shitty, the victory (however illegitimate) stays for today.

xo
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Ka-blammo.

As of May 4th, I will answer to the name "Fusion Bomb", I'm considering having my driver's license changed to reflect that moniker switch.

They're fusing my ankle. Yup, removing my ankle joint, jamming in some big screws and forcing the bones to grow together. My foot will be permanently ready for ass-kicking due to its fixed position.

I will be missing about 3 months of work thanks to this little excursion into orthopedic crazytown. I have so much to take care of between now and May 4th, I fucking hate money I don't have.

So yeah, that's my shitass week at a glance.

Oh, but I was still down 0.2, there's always that.

Goddamn. They're gonna fucking fuse it. At least I'll be pain-free.

xo
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