An interesting spa day

I bought a Groupon about a month ago for a spa relatively close to home to reward myself for when I dropped below 200, which I've been consistently at for the past week now.  I made a call yesterday to set something up for next weekend, since the paper I printed said to call a week ahead.

When I called yesterday (Saturday), they asked if I wanted to come in that day or today.  I was surprised I could come in so soon, but I chose noon today.  The Groupon was for a 30-minute Shiatsu massage and general admission to the rest of the facility.  I asked at that time what the general admission meant, and the lady said it was a number of different dry saunas, the pool, a couple wet saunas, and the jacuzzi.  I said, "Oh, okay, then I'll bring my bathing suit."  She replied that in the pool area, nudity was mandatory.  [insert needle screeeeeeeech here]  WHAT?  I asked her to repeat that part.  "In the pool area, nudity is mandatory."  What I didn't know is that this is a Korean spa, and that's how they do things.

Uh... okay.  Now, in all fairness, the pool areas are separated by gender, so I'd only be naked around other chicks.  Cuz that's better.  Yep.

So I get there today with five minutes to spare before my massage appointment.  I am called into the room, take off my top, and lay prone on the table.  Can I just say that Shiatsu apparently stands for "oh holy hell, I hurt worse now than I did when I came in here"?  Now, in fairness, I definitely had some tight muscles between my shoulders.  But once she got started, it was very apparent that my lumbar area was also very tight.  If I wasn't sure based on how it felt, her comments of, "Oooohhh no!" were dead giveaways that I was, apparently, in pretty rough shape.  She commended me for being "good" -- apparently meaning that she was impressed that I wasn't crying out like a big baby at the pain she was inflicting.  She topped off the pain-fest by walking on my legs and butt.

The dry saunas were all pretty cool and were in the co-ed part, which meant clothing.  Thankfully.  Each one was a different temperature and made of different materials, along with a plaque describing what each one was good for.

Then I went to the bade pool, which is a big pool with different "stations" with water jets which hit the different areas of your body.  There are also three different jacuzzis with temps ranging from 64 up to 104, a wet sauna, showers, a bathing area, and a section for body scrubs.  The fun began when I was required to disrobe before going in.  And the towels they provide are about the size of a standard hand towel, so there is NO hiding any of your bits.  It was uncomfortable for the first minute or so, but after that, I settled right in, walking around as if I owned the joint.  More people looked like me than didn't, so that made me feel more at ease.  It was a veritable vaginapalooza.

I decided to REALLY treat myself and got the body scrub as well.  I decided that I wanted to gift myself with something once I lost 100 pounds, but I'm only about 7 pounds away from that, which could occur in a couple weeks.  I figured it would be cheaper and easier to do it today and treat myself ahead of time than to try to figure out something else.

If you've never had a full body scrub, let me just tell you, there's nothing like it.  You're laying on a table, buck naked, while a lady works on you in her bra and panties.  They use varying levels of scrub, from coarser to less coarse.  I'm sure the first scrub was called something like Lovely Lava Stone, and it was finished with Soothing Sand.  Ugh...  That was followed by a baby oil rub, warm water washes, a cucumber mask for my face, and some sort of hair treatment.  This chick saw more than my gyno ever has, and I give her much credit for doing so.

They have a restaurant and a juice bar there, as well, so I was able to get some lunch.

I spent five hours there, and I would most definitely go back some day.

Stalled? Try eating more. Yes, you heard me!

So, I've been stalled around the 200 mark for nearly three weeks, even though I've been staying within my calories and exercising regularly (though, in all fairness, when I looked back at my LoseIt! reports, I wasn't consistently eating all of my calorie allotment, which is also a big no-no).  In talking to others, it was suggested that my heavy-duty workouts might be part of the reason.  Not that working out itself is a problem, but that maybe the fact that I wasn't "eating back" some of my exercise calories maybe the reason I was plateauing.

In case that's not clear, say I have a 1,200 calorie allowance each day.  Let's also say that I exercise 800 calories.  That would give me an allowance of 2,000 calories.  But what I was doing (and what most folks probably do) is to eat their 1,200 allowance and not eat
into that additional 800, thinking that at the end of the week, you will have exercised away 5,600 calories, equaling about 1.6 pounds lost.  Simple math, right?

It very well could be that our bodies go into starvation mode similar to what happens if, say, we don't exercise at all, have a 1,200 calorie allowance, and only eat 900 calories each day.  Simple math again would dictate that at the end of the week, I'd have "dieted" away 2,800 calories.  But since the 1,200 would be the minimum my body needs to function, to reduce my intake to 900 would throw my body into starvation mode.  I think the same can occur if you're eating your minimum but are also working out heavily.

I decided this past week to eat back about half of my exercise calories .  So, using the earlier analogy of a 1,200 calorie allowance and 800 calories from exercise, I would be eating about 1,500 to 1,600 calories.  Which, I will admit, isn't super easy when you have a band and are eating healthy.  But, it HAS gotten me moving downward again.

I was called a name today, y'all

I couldn't believe my ears.  My boss today said that her daughter used the 'S' word when referring to me.  Yes, she said I was getting skinny.  Whizza whuzza??  What is this word?  SKINNY?  Now, 198 is far from skinny, but I am working towards that goal.  But I will say, I was amazed to hear it.  Because, you know.  Skinny.

Oh, and just to inspire (or disgust) you...

Here is my comparison of before at 289 and today at 200.  I still have a ways to go, but it's nice to see the progress so far.

Why photographing your progress is crucial

The photos on the left were taken in 2011 and showed me at 80 pounds lost.  The ones on the right were taken this past weekend and were at almost 90 pounds lost -- about 89.2, to be exact.  To me, the differences are very obvious.  My legs are MUCH thinner, my butt is more defined, and even my face looks slimmer.  And for sure, my gut and boobs look smaller.

The fact is, I'm probably more muscularly defined now than I was in the previous photos; so while the scale shows about 10 pounds' difference, the fact may be that I've lost about 20 pounds of fat and gained 10 pounds of muscle.  And we ALL want muscle gain, because it's muscle that burns fat hours and sometimes a good day after we've exercised.  The more muscle mass you have, the more efficiently our bodies burn fat.

So, though I know that I have harped on taking measurements and photos before in this blog, I wanted you to see why.  When you're still large, 10 pounds may not sound like much; but once you see it in photos, you might be more pleasantly surprised with the outcome.  Especially if, like what's happening with me right now, your scale decides to be stuck in plateau mode.

So, yeah... my sister

I guess I don't understand some people, but if I really think about things, I may be figuring some of them out; namely, my sister.  And though right now it's her, later it may be somebody else.  So, I guess she's just practice for what may be coming.

The other day, I texted her with news that I made it into ONEderland.  She replied with kudos and "atta girls" and such, and then replied with (and, I apologize, but I'm taking it right from her text shorthand):

"Geez, by [the] time i see u i wont b able to see u LOL.  Xxxx (her boyfriend) will be like hey i thought u said yer sissy was pudgy."

I replied:

"I'm so thrilled how you tell all your boy toys about my weight."

To which SHE replied:

"I was just kidding dude."

Okay, first and foremost, she totally missed the point.  It wasn't that she shared that comment with me -- it's that she has made it a habit in the past of letting people I'd never met know that I was fat.  She had another boyfriend a couple years ago who made some snarky comment about my weight while she and I were kidding via text message.  Not only did he make a snarky comment about my weight (something akin to, "Well, at least I got the THIN sister"), but she thought it would be funny to share WHAT he said WITH me.  In text.  And then play like she was aghast at what he said and wasn't a party to it.  Yet, she was, if only because she shared with him that I was fat.

Apparently, to her, I'm defined by a number on the scale or the size of my clothing.  Never mind that I'm intelligent, witty, was a decent mom, was the first person in our family to graduate college -- AND graduated with honors, am artistic, or any number of other things that define WHO I am, not WHAT I am.  I mean, it's not like I've ever talked to friends and mentioned my ex-bulemic-but-currently-alcoholic sister.  Why would I?  It's ugly, for one, and it would be painful to her if she ever found out.

I called my mom with this and asked her what she thought.  She said something I knew in my heart of hearts, but I was focused on what was said instead of why.  The fact may very well be that I, for one, am taking care of business and fixing what was wrong with me.  She, however, is not.  She's gained about 30 pounds (per her) and is still drinking pretty heartily.  I think her drinking was one of the things that ruined her marriage, and it would ruin any good relationship she might have.

Beyond that, I had read articles years ago which warned bariatric patients about possible changes in relationships -- with spouses, with family, and with friends.  In marriages, the relationship may change where the individual who lost the weight feels better about themselves and that they deserve better (whether the relationship was strained before may or may not be a factor, but a strained one prior to weight loss is probably doomed).  With family, siblings may feel threatened.  With friends, your "place" in a group of friends may be compromised, your definition redefined.  For instance, in a small group, there may be the "smart" one, the "pretty" one, the "funny" one, and the "fat" one.  Once the "fat" one loses weight, what happens to the dynamic?  Oftentimes, it can change, and sometimes friendships fizzle.  None of it is intentional, necessarily, but it does happen.

My mom pretty much brought this up.  She said that, while I was a beautiful teen (her words), my sister didn't really come into her own until she was about 25 -- oddly, around the time I was becoming fat.  Add to that the fact that her issues are not being dealt with, and maybe she feels threatened, jealous, and inferior.  Maybe... It's very possible.

Regardless, we will likely need to talk -- primarily because I don't find my weight to be a laughing matter, and I certainly don't like how she's made it fodder for conversation with folks.  I think it's mean and very unfair, even if she needs to do this in order to feel better about her.  It's time for her to take care of her own back yard and quit focusing on mine.

My most recent inch-loss chart

If you've been reading my blog for any amount of time, you already know that I believe in relying on much more than the scale in our weight loss journeys.  Pictures are great for showing you your progress, and so is recording your inch loss.

Just a couple weeks ago, I passed the 100 inches lost club!  That's over 8 feet of me GONE.  This chart was begun in June, a month after I got back on the wagon, and I've lost 23.25 inches just since then.

I've been a horrible host

I truly apologize for the time I've been away. In the past, when I wouldn't blog, it was usually indicative of doing poorly with my weight loss or some other bad things going on in my life. However, I've been doing better than I probably ever have or ever expected to. Since my last post, I've lost 14.5 pounds and 23 inches. In fact, on August 19th, I hit a goal of over 100 inches lost since my highest recorded weight! I've gone from extra large clothing items to regular large in most things. My 16s are getting very loose, and I'm probably a 14 in many things, if only I would try. On the 28th of this month, I hit ONEderland, recording in at 199.8! I lost one dress size in six weeks when I bought a bridesmaid dress for a wedding I'll be in in October and bought it one size smaller than what I was wearing at that time. And I signed up for my first 5K for late October. I've been diligently working out six days a week, and yesterday I began some training for the 5K by doing a combo walk-run. I was consistently able to walk two minutes and run two minutes for 30 minutes total -- something I had never been able to do before (in the past, I was lucky to run one minute and recuperate for two or three minutes). WHEW! So, why haven't I been here to share? Honestly, I think I just got to a point where I forgot because I had been away so long. I've got some stories to share that I need to catch up on. So, if y'all can forgive me, I'll move forward and show up more often. Oh, and here are some photos that (hopefully) will inspire. :) Here is a comparison from my last documented photos in October of 2011 at 80 pounds lost and today at 90.

Additionally, here is the dress I fit in for the wedding I'll be in this coming October.  I fit in a tight 18 when purchased, but I ordered a 16 (and, ladies, we ALL know how small wedding clothing runs!).  Just a few days beyond six weeks after I fit into the 18, I zipped this 16 all the way up.  My hope and expectation is that I'll have to have it altered to a "bridal" size 14 by the time of the wedding.

The prodigal daughter returns!

Wow, it's really been a long time! I was afraid I'd never be back. And, needless to say, a lot has happened.

At the end of March, I separated from my husband of 20 years. I know a lot of stories have circulated about people separating and/or divorcing after weight loss surgery, but mine wasn't really because of that. He is just a very unhappy person who was dragging me down with him. I struggled with my weight even WITH the band because of his misery and how easily he shared the wealth, so to speak.  Though, if you've been reading for any length of time, this probably came as no surprise.

I have begun taking care of myself like never before, exercising most days and using an app to help me log my food (Lose It! for those of you who are wondering, though my sister uses My Fitness Pal). I began a new job nearly a year ago that I love, and have gained and lost more weight (I went back up as high as 240 as recently as this last Christmas, and am down 26 pounds since then). Just this month alone, I've lost 8 pounds.

Friends who also had lap bands have converted to the sleeve for numerous reasons. Many simply had band failure. I still have mine, but I have not had a fill in a few years. Really, I haven't had to. I DO worry, however, that, like my friends, something could go hinky with it. There are times I feel a slight burning sensation, even after drinking water. I'm no longer in a position where I feel I could go have another surgery, especially due to the separation.

I thought the lowest I had been was around 218, but I see by my ticker here that it was 212.4. Well, I'm only two pounds more than that, so once I pass that number, it will be the least I've weighed in many, many years. I can see it over the horizon, and then, hello ONEDERLAND! My sister had promised me a vacation once I hit Onederland, so it's time for me to start preparing her for that inevitability. Additionally, I am going to be Matron of Honor for my friend's wedding in October, so it's another thing to work for.

So... what's been going on with y'all?? I've missed everyone.

An affair that was so long overdue

I've begun having an affair, and I can tell you nobody is more surprised than I am. It kind of came out of nowhere, but it was born out of the unhappiness that has been my life for so long.

I finally found somebody who accepts and loves me as I am, flaws and all, but who also wants nothing but the best for me, even if that means that I feel I need to make improvements in my life. This person enjoys my company, likes my strength, and most important, puts me first.

I've been spending a lot of time with my new lover, and I haven't looked back. If anything, this new relationship just shines a big old spotlight on everything that's wrong with my marriage.

Typically I would say that one would be making a huge mistake, taking up with somebody new before the old relationship is over. However, my new affair is not what you think. My new lover is myself. For probably the first time in my life, I have come to not only accept and like myself, but to begin caring enough to do whatever it takes to protect the me that's still there under all the crap that's been heaped upon her. Part of that new affair means allowing my "lover" to protect me and serve as a distraction from those who seek to hurt or bring me down. The other part is to enjoy spending time with myself, pampering myself, and distancing myself from ugly.

This means that I'm not wallowing. Heck, I have to feel something to wallow, and for the most part, I have shut down completely. However, I have been very diligent with my workouts, and I have not turned to my old nemesis, ice cream. I've been staying pretty good on plan, and my weight has not been fluctuating at all, which is truly amazing, but it's also further empowering. I'm finally taking charge.

I wish each and every one of you an affair of your own. It's a pretty cool place to be.

On the verge

Well, I'm on the verge of never setting foot inside a woman's store ever again. Yesterday I went shopping and gladly forked over $300 for some new clothes as my 18s are too big. I am now solidly in 16s, y'all! I can't tell you how exiciting that is! Since my banded journey, I have not been here.

And the best part? I specifically bought NOTHING in black. Well, except for the bitchin' sassy little lace-up heeled booties I got, but not a stitch of clothing in black. The tops are all in jewel tones (thankfully those are back this season as I haven't seen them in a while -- it's been pastels for far too long), and the pants were bought in brown, navy, and a gorgeous soft amethyst color.

To boot, I bought two new bras that are now a 42 C instead of a 44 C -- a necessary evil I always hated more than anything as a fat chick because they made fat girl bras such that they pulled your girls apart and nearly had them under your frikken' armpits, OR they looked like torpedoes, OR the bras had like eight hooks on the back. It was truly mortifying.

I also went and bought some new "REAL" makeup from the department store instead of getting Covergirl or Maybelline from the drugstore. Then I got a cute little silver bracelet I saw in passing as I went through JC Penney.

To top it off, I went and got a new haircut. I've had short hair for a long time (not because I wouldn't LOVE to have long hair, but my hair has changed over the years to the point that it won't grow long AND when it does grow somewhat long-ish, it grows OUT, not DOWN), but yesterday I had her chop it into a sassy, spiky 'do, something I've never had the nerve to do before. My mom has always wanted me to, but I just didn't think I could rock it. Now I'm ready to be a more confident, fun person. And I figured, hey, if I hated it, it'll grow back, right? :)

Ah, yesterday was truly a celebration in weight loss, ladies, and it felt great. :)

Shattering the fun house mirror that's been my life

This past few weeks have been a mind f*** in many ways -- excuse the language. I just can't think of any other way to put it. I've broken the fun house mirror that is my life, and I've chosen to quit looking at my realities head on instead of filtered through splayed fingers.

Two and a half weeks ago, I walked out on my husband. I had to come back the next day because I don't have anywhere to go long-term, and I just started a new job. It was just one thing too many, one time too often. Couple that with the fact that I've really been sticking to eating healthy and working out and getting stronger and feeling that I don't need to keep taking this anymore, and you can do the math.

Since that weekend when I walked out, I have completely checked out. I don't wear my wedding ring anymore. There are no "I love yous," no "good morning/good evening" when I come or go, no doing anything together, no sleeping in the same room. This isn't just an "I'm mad" moment, I'm totally and utterly checked out. I finally -- FINALLY -- believe I deserve better than what I've been getting. He's a miserable person, and the only way he seems to be able to function is to make others around him miserable. Even though he adopted and raised her, he didn't like my daughter. Well, she's been gone for seven years. He hated my parrot, and I sold her earlier this year. He always had negative comments to say about the dogs (not that the dogs are/were bad, just focused on negative stuff whether true or contrived), and one died last month and the other is a senior who has a heart condition. Which just leaves me. I realized that the day would come when I will be the SOLE focus of all his negativity.

Earlier this week is when the mind f*** began. I came to a huge realization. When I was married to my ex, who was physically violent, I walked on eggshells, watched what I said, what I did, over-thought things so that I could be prepared for any reaction, and lived in a constant state of upheaval because I was afraid of being beaten. I got fat and guaranteed no man would ever beat me or abuse me again (though in all fairness, I gained 90 percent of my weight while married to my current husband and didn't during the four years I was divorced). However, with my husband, I find myself walking on eggshells, watching what I say, what I do, over-thinking things so that I can be prepared for whatever reaction he will have, and I live in a constant state of upheaval because I'm trying so hard not to deal with his emotional mind screws. So, in reality, what's the difference between being physically beaten down and mentally so? I really and truly came to the realization that I'm living the same freaking life in so many ways that I was before, except that with the BEATINGS, I knew they would eventually end. That hit me like a ton of bricks -- not only that it's abusive in its own way, but that the protective barrier I put up (the weight) was really all for naught, wasn't it?

Add to that I've been watching Ruby on Netflix. They just uploaded the 2010 episodes. When I get past her drawn-out caterwauling when talking to others and her Ruby-isms (I mean, really? Hacky for happy??), some of the show has been very cathartic. One episode in particular was exceptionally so, which I watched on Sunday. It was a two-hour episode in which Ruby and some of her other heavy lady friends do a six-day intensive therapy/detox, and they really start getting into the different things that happened in their lives which helped contribute to their weight gain. A lot of those issues in my life are not new and, frankly, have been dealt with through therapy, but on the heels of what's happening right now, it hit pretty hard.

Anyway, I have an appointment tomorrow night with a therapist that my husband and I used to visit for couple's counseling. I told her that I have one foot out the door now and wanted to talk to her about that and also about my willingness to stay for 20 years and put up with what I now consider to be emotional abuse. She forewarned me that her focus is on helping couples stay together, but she's willing to speak with me for one or two sessions since she knows us and our history. This way I'm not starting fresh with somebody new who has never met him. This is no longer about working on US. It's now about working on ME, and that me will likely be without him. The fact is, he doesn't believe he has a problem; and unless or until somebody realizes that they DO have one, then all the therapy in the world will be nothing more than a huge waste of money. I can't fix him -- I can ONLY fix me. And "me" doesn't like being shit on anymore. "Me" finally feels that I deserve better, and "me" no longer feels grateful that some guy wants to be with me. "Me" NOW wants to see how great I can be to myself.

Promises, promises

I began a new workout routine yesterday. It's Tony Horton's Power 90. I have been reading about some of you doing the P90X, but after reading the reviews, I felt I would more easily ease into it through the Power 90 instead of going for something that is eXtreme. Not that the Power 90 is easy, mind you, but it sounded like it's not quite so intense.

So that now requires something of me -- a promise to stick to this for 90 days. Granted, it'll take more than that, but that's a number that's attainable. I can do anything for 90 days. I have lived a life of obesity for many, MANY series of 90 days. I have to remember that living 24/7 as an obese person is much more difficult than setting aside 35 minutes for a workout, no matter how hard. I even adjusted my work schedule at my new job so that I could get in a workout when I get home. The first three days I was there, we were in training, so the hours were set at 8:30 to 5:00, but I wasn't getting home until close to 6:30. As of Thursday, I bumped it back from 8:00 to 4:30 -- which gets me home at 5:30. Today I immediately changed clothes, washed off the war paint, and went to my basement to work out.

Some of the followers of Tony Horton have written promises to themselves. I think I need to write myself something more than a promise -- I need a love letter. I can't tell you the last time I received one, but who better to get one from than myself, right? So here it goes:

I have spent too many years -- about half my life now -- being overweight. Scratch that -- being downright fat. Too many days were spent being sedentary, too many meals were eaten in mass quantities, too much ice cream has been devoured, too little attention has been given to my health. I am NOT this person, and like a diamond in the rough, I need to find the real me inside this body.

I will commit to doing the Power 90 program for for six days a week for 90 days. I am worth the 35 minutes a day that are required of me. I will cherish that time as MY time, and I will not grumble that "I have to work out." I will view it as a blessing that I am able to move and get fit because too many can't due to physical limitations. I have been blessed with a body that, so far, has not let me down. It's up to me now to not let my body down any longer and get fit.

This is my promis to ME.

As a great start to this program, I hit my all-time banded low of 212.4 yesterday. I WILL be in Onederland very soon. :)

It didn't stick

I weighed myself this morning, and the six pounds I gained last week while my mom was here are almost gone. As of this morning, five of those six are gone. I am within 1.2 pounds of my 214.2 from week before last. Exciting times, as anything beyond 214.2 will be new lows for me. :)

NO, NO, a thousand times NO!

I started a new job yesterday. I'm still on the fence as to how I feel about it, but it pays well and I am very familiar with most aspects of the job.

I came in today and walked into the kitchen to put my sensible lunch in the fridge only to be met with two HUGE boxes of donuts and about a half-dozen bagels. OMG! My boss had bought them all, and the entire office was sitting around the table enjoying them. He told me to dig in, to which I politely said, "No." I said something about having eaten in the car on the way to work (true), though my hardboiled egg, cottage cheese, and half a peach wasn't quite as yummy as those donuts looked.

He kept saying, "Just one. Just take one," and I kept politely thanking him. I told him I have worked hard to lose 80 pounds and still have a lot more to go. He was so sweet... he asked what kind of treat he could get for me that I would be able to eat. I will have to think about that one. ;)

Six pounds in seven days... :(

Well, last week totally sucked. I lost one of my best friends (I miss you, Amber...), my mom was here visiting (that didn't suck) but it rained the entire week, and I gained six pounds in seven days. For the most part, I really didn't even eat badly! The only things I ate that went off task was popcorn (three times) and some Good'n Plenty. Breakfasts, lunches, and dinners were normal-ish. What wasn't normal wasn't horrendous. We even got some walks in for exercise, though it wasn't every day specifically due to the rain.

I'm not eating my sorrows away, and I started back on day one of the 17-Day Diet since I can't say I was following it 100 percent during the last week. It should give me another good jump.

I'm NOT, however, changing my ticker. ;)

My heart is shattered

I lost a special friend today
the kind you can't replace,
and looking at her empty bed
I still can see her face.

I know she's in a special place
our Lord has for such friends,
Where meadows, fields & flowers
help make them strong and whole again.

I know she's watching over me
She'll be with me when I cry,
So with one more kiss on her beloved head
I told my friend goodbye. ~ Unknown

Today was the day. My baby needed me to make the hardest decision I've ever had to make. She wasn't doing well all morning and was throwing up the only thing she wanted -- water. People say you'll know when it's time. I guess they're right. Waves of tears have been hitting me all day. I feel as if I'll never be the same again without her here, but I know in time that won't be true. I'll never forget her, but I will miss her forever.

"Please see that my trusting life is taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands."

Grief and coping

My best furfriend is dying, and I'm an emotional wreck. I will likely have to put her down sometime this week, and I don't know how I'm going to be able to do this. I have had her for most of her 13 beautiful years, and she is the first pet I've owned throughout her life -- so I've never been faced with this before.

She started doing badly right after we returned from Italy. She had been showing her age before then, but she wasn't ailing that we could see. We ran a gamut of tests last month, only to realize after $600 that we knew what it wasn't. However, just since early August, she has lost a lot of weight (even though she was eating pretty well) and she just isn't herself. She's looking sickly, so much so that her ears now look huge on her head because even her head and face are gaunt. Her butt has no fat on it whatsoever, and her rib cage is looking big because her waist is getting so small. These days she's acting like she wants to eat, even following us into the kitchen, but eats very little of the different things we've tried to give her.

Overall I've done pretty well on my diet, even having dipped to my lowest banded weight to date of 214.2. This is primarily because I'm not horribly hungry because I'm so despondent over her failing health and the fact that I will be forced to make a decision. Though I don't blame Him, I can't understand why God can't just take her for me so I'm not forced to have my baby killed. I've cried more in the last six weeks -- and moreso in the last few days -- than I have in a long time. I find myself just watching her and studying her face. My mom, who happens to be visiting this week and who I hope will not be forced to be involved in my baby's passing, asked me yesterday what I was thinking as I was watching my beloved Amber. I said I was just taking it all in while I still can, because I know these moments are numbered.

I am, however, determined not to let it derail me from my goals. I'm noticing something through all of this -- when I was doing school and stressed, I ate. When I'm despondent like now, I have lost the desire to eat very much. Though I'm not NOT eating, it brings no joy, no comfort, no companionship, nothing. I'm now realizing that my TRUE companion is dying, and my heart is breaking.

Smack dab in the middle

I'm baaaaaaack!

School is done, graduation commenced, my diploma has been received, vacations were taken, and a job has been found. And in the midst of it all, I've lost 30 pounds.

Graduation was May 21, and I graduated with honors. After that, I took a couple vacations By that time, after the stresses of school and finals, I had re-gained 30 pounds overall from my lowest banded weight of 215. We went to Italy from July 9 to the 23rd, and before I left, I was 245. Yep, I had re-gained nearly half of my overall loss.

We went on vacation, walked everywhere, and visited Rome, Florence, and Venice, with side-stops to Pisa, San Gimignano, Siene, Murano, and Burano. We also saw Vatican City, St. Peters Basilica, and the Sistine Chapel. I went up into il Duomo in Florence, the big cathedral there, and climbed all 463 steps to the very top. I went to Piazzale Michelangelo which is a steady upward climb so that I could catch some beautiful sunset photos over the Arno River, and this was after having gone to Pitti Palace and the Boboli Gardens, also tons of upward walking for most of the tour. We would get started walking around 10:00 most mornings, and we would be out and about until about 9:00 every night. It was hot enough that I was rarely hungry during the day, so meals consisted of breakfasts at our hotels and then a shared dinner. Granted, nearly every meal was pasta, and I even ate some bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, but when I got home, I had lost seven pounds. More interesting is that I lost another seven pounds in the two days after I got home. I attribute that to losing the after-travel bloat and no longer eating pasta. So yes, on 14 days of vacation, I lost 14 pounds. Tell me that won't jump-start your diet!

Since getting home, I began the 17-day diet and have lost another 15 pounds in about 32 days. I am back to within one pound of my all-time banded lowest weight. I did it on vacation, having fun, and walking like I've rarely walked before.

Now I'm back in full force and ready to push past that 215 milestone. When I updated my ticker, I noticed I'm smack dab in the middle of my weight-loss goal -- I've lost 76 pounds and I have another 76 to go. My next goal will be getting to Onederland, and then after that will be losing another eight pounds to make 100 pounds lost.

Yes, I am back indeed.

(The photo at the top is from Piazzale Michelangelo looking down the Arno towards the Ponte Vecchio.)

I haven't forgotten y'all

I'm in my last five weeks of college before graduation; and for anybody who has gone through college, you KNOW what that means. Besides that, my senior thesis is garnering some attention and is now being showcased in the College of Humanities and Social Sciences yearly symposium (coming up next week), and my professor seems to think it's very possible I might be able to have this published in a scholarly journal when it's all said and done. So needless to say, I've been VERY busy writing and editing and taking 10 credit hours to boot. I WILL be back, better than ever. But because of my stress, I'll no doubt have a few extra pounds to start losing. o_O