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
lb

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
lb

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
lb

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
lb

Cut the crap.

Emotional/stressful bullshit is going on in Thuseyland. I'm not going into most of the details because it's lame. The other shit has to do with a return trip to goddamn bone doctor happening on Friday to see what the fuck is going to happen to the rat bastard Frankenankle. I think it's pretty clear that I'm not happy at the moment.

Now that it has been established that I've been in emotional/high stress bullshit zone this week, let's get down to fat camp business:

It shall be known from here on in that I'm an emotional non-eater. This entire week, I couldn't have cared less about food or eating, despite my emotional upheaval that could have prompted the year's takings for the Curry Garden in one night flat.

That being said, I want it noted that despite this lack of appetite or interest, I still made myself eat three meals a day plus snacks whenever possible. I didn't avoid my food and eating responsibilities, even though my poor stomach wished i would.

All this shitty week, one for the record books, I did not cry and I did not starve.

And I lost 2.4lbs, putting me at 269.2. yes. the 260's.

It took over 6 months to get out of the 270's. I may make another appearance there due to my close proximity to them right now, but for now, I am out of them and going in the right direction.

Suck on that, 270's.

xo
lb

This is why I have a day job.

It's "Family Day" here in Ontario (I know, isn't that the lamest fucking name for a stat holiday?) so I have the day off. So far, I've sat through 2 talk shows, I walked away from "the View" (because I'm smart) and I've nearly finished the sweater I've let sit for too long.

Just now, the phone rang. Understand this: the phone rarely rings here, because I'm a hermit. Of course I'm going to answer it, because it could have been a family member (it is FAMILY day, after all) or my favourite person, or friends looking to avoid talking to their families, so they'd like to talk to me.

Or, despite being registered in the government's "Do Not Call Registry", where I am registered through 2013 (I checked), it will be a telemarketer.

I hate telemarketers. That is why they are, by law, not allowed to call me. That's what that registry is all about.

Today, a telemarketer called me. Here's how that shit went down:

LB (me): Hello? [echo...pause...] HELLO? (annoyed!)

Telemarketer (TM): hello ma'am, I am calling from Annoying Window Replacement Company Who Shouldn't Be Calling You Because it's Against the Law. How are you today?

LB: How did you get this number?

TM: We have done work on [Bleep] Street in the past, that is how we got your number.

LB: That doesn't make sense.

TM: Yes it does. [Sorry, what? did you just fucking say that to me?!?]

LB: No, replacing windows on another house on my street doesn't result in you getting my phone number.

TM: I'm calling today to tell you about...

LB: No, you're taking me off your list. That's what you're doing.

*CLICK*

Alright window company, consider yourselves reported. You stand the chance of being fined for dialling the 10 digits it takes to make my phone ring. You asshats.

I want to put the following in the phone book beside my listing: this person does not need her ducts cleaned, windows replaced, tickets to the circus, carpets cleaned, a better internet connection, a better cable package, or tickets to a sporting event she doesn't give a shit about. She doesn't believe for a second that she's won a cruise, a car, or a barbecue. She will not call in regard to a credit card account she does not have. She will report you. Find a better job.

Oddly enough, this is the most family-related thing I will do all day because I know, somewhere, my step-dad is laughing his head off in agreement.

xo
LB