I'm not very good at keeping up a blog, or a journal, or anything, really, that takes more than about 5 minutes to accomplish. I have had three different blogs: this one, my journal-type one, an academic one, where I've written some things about education and my role there, and a fitness one that I started on Sparkpeople.com. I've decided to consolidate and move all of my blogging efforts to one place. So, the next few posts are copied over from the other sites that I used to use. I have done a little editing, and included the dates, so, hopefully, I can keep them in order.
This is the first blog that I ever posted on Spark: Friday, January 13, 2012
So, you can blog on Spark? I don't see this going well for me. I already have two blogs that I don't update more than 3 or 4 times a year. But I will just start by telling all the complete strangers who care to read this all about my sad, sad life. Oh, "whoa is me" and "my life sucks" right? Well, it a little bit does, and while I'm mostly to blame, it's a little bit not my fault. First up, I'm fat, duh, if I wasn't do you think I'd be blogging on a weight-loss site? I'm not just a little overweight, nor chubby, nor even "pleasantly plump" no, I'm fat, 341 pounds of fat to be exact, I just weighed myself about an hour ago. I think this is the fattest I've been in my entire life. There are two main reasons for me being so fat: I like to eat, a lot, and I don't like to exercise, at all. However, this is turning into a painfully deadly combination. Painful because I have arthritis, everywhere, and the heavier I get, the harder it is to move. Deadly, because I am now pre-diabetic, whatever that's supposed to mean (apparently doctors have decided that there's now a step in between not diabetic and diabetic), and my blood-pressure has started going up.
I have been overweight since before I can remember properly. I don't ever remember being small enough to wear my friends clothes. But I really ballooned in size when I stopped swimming, which is what my mom made me do when the pediatrician said I was too fat for my age. When my parents divorced (don't even get me started on the emotional trauma there, but believe me, the divorce was a good thing), my mom couldn't afford swimming clubs anymore, so I got to quit! But I didn't quit eating like I was swimming for two hours a day. When I graduated from high school, I weighed a cool 220 pounds. I was proud of myself for that, because junior year was spent hovering around 260. When I went away to college, I dropped to almost 175. I was poor, see, so the freshman ten didn't apply to me because I couldn't afford to eat, I had to make my roommates' moms' leftovers last a week! Smaller portions and walking on campus, the weight came off. Then I switched schools, and went on a scholarship that included a meal plan. So junior year I put on the freshman ten, and the sophomore twenty, and the junior thirty. When I graduated from college, I was the heaviest I'd ever been: 320 pounds. I went to Taiwan for a couple of years, dropped down to 280. But when I had to come home and take care of my mom (she became disabled after a staff infection from a surgery ate away most of the muscle tissue in her legs, and caused her to have several strokes), the depression that I'd been fighting for years, since before the divorce, set in, and I was overcome with an emotional need so strong that it became a physical need. There was nothing and nobody to share my needs with. I was alone, I was lonely, nobody understood what I was going through. I thought I had finally escaped the nightmares of my past, but here I was, living in the same house where most of those nightmares had taken place. I couldn't take it.
At first I tried to stick with the routine that I'd come up with for myself in Taiwan. But fresh vegetables and fruits are so much more expensive here. Also, I can't walk outside when the temperature is below freezing, especially if there is ice on the ground (all I need is to break more bones, and get more arthritis pain). I soon gave up and didn't do anything to further my health. The weight piled back on, and more so. To add insult to injury, I can't seem to be in any good relationships. Not just with men, although that's what I wanted the most, but I don't get along very well with anyone. People are always saying they need me to do things for them, but gues who never gets invited to parties? And don't give me that "well, why don't you have your own parties and invite them?" crap. Really, you think that never occurred to me. After a year of throwing parties (all sorts, holiday, theme, last-minute get togethers, you name it I tried it), it was too depressing to try anymore. I was tired of spending all day making treats, or cleaning house, just to find myself alone with enough food for 10-20 people. So, you know what? I ate that food, usually in one sitting, and the weight kept coming.
Well, pretty soon, because I had no friends, I began to turn to food for comfort. When I'm bored, lonely, scared, tired, sad, or angry, one of the first things I do is think about what I have in the kitchen. One of the first things I do when I come home is open the cupboards to see what I can eat. Well, now I'm 341 pounds. I have some friends now, a few teachers that I work with are really very nice to me, and even invite me to do things with them. So that's good. But I still can't tell anyone about my nightmares. And I'm still living in this house. I am working on this problem. I know that I can't truly escape my past until I am not having nightmares practically every night. I am buying a house that will allow me freedom from the past, but still keep me close enough that I can take care of my mom. In the mean time, I have set some very simple goals for myself that include drinking enough water every day, and walking 10,000 steps every day. I even got myself a pedometer - woot! One of my friends turned me onto this site over a year ago, and I never did more than "check it out." (This is the sparkpeople.com site, it's pretty awesome, I just don't have the time to keep it up.)
Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time I'll be able to stick to it. Maybe this time I won't quit on what I want because I'm afraid of the consequences. Did you know that some people are afraid to lose weight? Yeah, that's right, afraid to lose weight. Well, I knew that, because I'm afraid. What if I lose weight, and I still can't get a date, and I still don't get invited to parties, and I still don't have very many friends? What does that say about me? Deep down I know that I'm a good person, and I have a lot to offer, but I'm afraid that people won't like me. If I lose the weight, then I don't have the shield. Now I have an excuse that throws all the hurt on the other person: they're a jerk because they don't like me only because I'm fat, if I was thin, they'd treat me differently. But if I don't have the fat to protect me, how will I deal with the rejection. I don't even know. All I know is that I don't want to hurt every time I move any more, and I don't want to die before I'm old enough to retire. So, now is the time to do something about it.
This is the first blog that I ever posted on Spark: Friday, January 13, 2012
So, you can blog on Spark? I don't see this going well for me. I already have two blogs that I don't update more than 3 or 4 times a year. But I will just start by telling all the complete strangers who care to read this all about my sad, sad life. Oh, "whoa is me" and "my life sucks" right? Well, it a little bit does, and while I'm mostly to blame, it's a little bit not my fault. First up, I'm fat, duh, if I wasn't do you think I'd be blogging on a weight-loss site? I'm not just a little overweight, nor chubby, nor even "pleasantly plump" no, I'm fat, 341 pounds of fat to be exact, I just weighed myself about an hour ago. I think this is the fattest I've been in my entire life. There are two main reasons for me being so fat: I like to eat, a lot, and I don't like to exercise, at all. However, this is turning into a painfully deadly combination. Painful because I have arthritis, everywhere, and the heavier I get, the harder it is to move. Deadly, because I am now pre-diabetic, whatever that's supposed to mean (apparently doctors have decided that there's now a step in between not diabetic and diabetic), and my blood-pressure has started going up.
I have been overweight since before I can remember properly. I don't ever remember being small enough to wear my friends clothes. But I really ballooned in size when I stopped swimming, which is what my mom made me do when the pediatrician said I was too fat for my age. When my parents divorced (don't even get me started on the emotional trauma there, but believe me, the divorce was a good thing), my mom couldn't afford swimming clubs anymore, so I got to quit! But I didn't quit eating like I was swimming for two hours a day. When I graduated from high school, I weighed a cool 220 pounds. I was proud of myself for that, because junior year was spent hovering around 260. When I went away to college, I dropped to almost 175. I was poor, see, so the freshman ten didn't apply to me because I couldn't afford to eat, I had to make my roommates' moms' leftovers last a week! Smaller portions and walking on campus, the weight came off. Then I switched schools, and went on a scholarship that included a meal plan. So junior year I put on the freshman ten, and the sophomore twenty, and the junior thirty. When I graduated from college, I was the heaviest I'd ever been: 320 pounds. I went to Taiwan for a couple of years, dropped down to 280. But when I had to come home and take care of my mom (she became disabled after a staff infection from a surgery ate away most of the muscle tissue in her legs, and caused her to have several strokes), the depression that I'd been fighting for years, since before the divorce, set in, and I was overcome with an emotional need so strong that it became a physical need. There was nothing and nobody to share my needs with. I was alone, I was lonely, nobody understood what I was going through. I thought I had finally escaped the nightmares of my past, but here I was, living in the same house where most of those nightmares had taken place. I couldn't take it.
At first I tried to stick with the routine that I'd come up with for myself in Taiwan. But fresh vegetables and fruits are so much more expensive here. Also, I can't walk outside when the temperature is below freezing, especially if there is ice on the ground (all I need is to break more bones, and get more arthritis pain). I soon gave up and didn't do anything to further my health. The weight piled back on, and more so. To add insult to injury, I can't seem to be in any good relationships. Not just with men, although that's what I wanted the most, but I don't get along very well with anyone. People are always saying they need me to do things for them, but gues who never gets invited to parties? And don't give me that "well, why don't you have your own parties and invite them?" crap. Really, you think that never occurred to me. After a year of throwing parties (all sorts, holiday, theme, last-minute get togethers, you name it I tried it), it was too depressing to try anymore. I was tired of spending all day making treats, or cleaning house, just to find myself alone with enough food for 10-20 people. So, you know what? I ate that food, usually in one sitting, and the weight kept coming.
Well, pretty soon, because I had no friends, I began to turn to food for comfort. When I'm bored, lonely, scared, tired, sad, or angry, one of the first things I do is think about what I have in the kitchen. One of the first things I do when I come home is open the cupboards to see what I can eat. Well, now I'm 341 pounds. I have some friends now, a few teachers that I work with are really very nice to me, and even invite me to do things with them. So that's good. But I still can't tell anyone about my nightmares. And I'm still living in this house. I am working on this problem. I know that I can't truly escape my past until I am not having nightmares practically every night. I am buying a house that will allow me freedom from the past, but still keep me close enough that I can take care of my mom. In the mean time, I have set some very simple goals for myself that include drinking enough water every day, and walking 10,000 steps every day. I even got myself a pedometer - woot! One of my friends turned me onto this site over a year ago, and I never did more than "check it out." (This is the sparkpeople.com site, it's pretty awesome, I just don't have the time to keep it up.)
Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time I'll be able to stick to it. Maybe this time I won't quit on what I want because I'm afraid of the consequences. Did you know that some people are afraid to lose weight? Yeah, that's right, afraid to lose weight. Well, I knew that, because I'm afraid. What if I lose weight, and I still can't get a date, and I still don't get invited to parties, and I still don't have very many friends? What does that say about me? Deep down I know that I'm a good person, and I have a lot to offer, but I'm afraid that people won't like me. If I lose the weight, then I don't have the shield. Now I have an excuse that throws all the hurt on the other person: they're a jerk because they don't like me only because I'm fat, if I was thin, they'd treat me differently. But if I don't have the fat to protect me, how will I deal with the rejection. I don't even know. All I know is that I don't want to hurt every time I move any more, and I don't want to die before I'm old enough to retire. So, now is the time to do something about it.
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