Back in the Land of the Blogging and Things

So, I haven’t written in about, oh, two months? Let me give you a run down:

Things sucked. Things really, really sucked. I felt lost. I was dating a guy who was not right for me AT ALL. Things felt okay though, I mostly liked the attention. Then I got real with my self. Things sucked again. Things started to turn around. I’m dating someone new, we’re only about 2 weeks in, but this feels right and really, really good.

So things are good for the most part right now, some things still suck but I try not to dwell on it. I’m here, I’m alive, not much to complain about. Dieting is going well, exercising not so much, working on getting back into a routine. New things enter my life and everythings turns upside, I need to learn to accept change better.

I need to keep with projects that I start, which includes keeping this blog more up to date. If anyone even still reads it. Come back! I’m here… I promise to stick around and write at least once a week. Time to make things orderly.

Happy summer all!

So Tired

I hate being so fucking emotionally unavailable. I never really thought about it, but my dad completely fucked me up when I was a kid. I hated him. I didn’t want to talk to him, I hated having to give him hugs and kisses. At one point I completely refused and didn’t allow any contact for months. He was never around and I assume my 6 year old mind thought: why does he deserve my affection? I never expressed my feelings when he left, I’m still am reserved and suppress how I feel.

Then all through high school and middle school I didn’t hug anyone and I had some pretty affectionate friends who loved hugs. It was awkward, I was more often on the receiving end instead of giving them. I’m still awkward with guys and hugging, which really bothers me, because if you’re not a good hugger someone just automatically assumes you don’t like them. I wish I was able to be more open, both with being affectionate towards the ones I love and be able to express my emotions, no matter how I’m feeling.

I hate how things have ended up. I’m sick of all the fucking drama in my life. I’m so sick of the fact that my dad can’t grow up and deal with the shit that he alone got himself into. I hate caring and being concerned when it’s never returned. I’m sick of trying to help someone who won’t help themselves. I’m going to move on and I don’t think he’ll ever really understand the consequences of how he’s treated me until he is not invited to my future wedding or excluded from the family I will build. I may just disown my shitty, self-centered father. He lost me as a daughter long before now, the only reason he realizes it now is because I have to swear and holler at him to get him to listen. And he just blames it on my mom which frustrates and angers me to no end. He cannot own up that he did this. I’m just so tired of fighting.

How to Piss Me Off

The most irritating thing in the world to me is for someone to disrespect me and my family. I’m damn proud of the small northern town I’ve grown up in, it’s made me who I am. If there’s one thing I’m going to be “Miss-High-and-Mighty” about it, it’s how someone treats my family.

If the bullshit ground into the bottom of my boots is going to make you scrunch your nose, it’s probably not going to work out between us.

If you’re completely annoyed by the loggers talking shit on Ax Men then there is absolutely no way I’ll ever look at you with a grain of respect again because everyone of those guys mirrors a friend or family member. It doesn’t matter if it’s a dangerous job with crappy pay, those guys don’t work that hard just for the money. It’s about the tradition, usually carrying on the family name, it was how they were brought up. If you have to base your opinion on someone by the size of their wallet, you’re going to have a long, lonely life ahead of you.

The last thing I want to hear is a lecture from a computer geek who has no idea what a 60 hour week feels like and has never had a sunburn on the back of his neck. I grew up with sawdust in my veins, slivers in my fingers and shit kickers on my feet and I’m always going to have those traits ingrained within me whether I’m in or out of the woods. I’ll always be a blue collar workhorse because those are the kinds of people who I grew to admire, they made something of themselves. I’m always going to be hardheaded and stubborn. It’s really not worth it to argue with me.

I don’t like listening to people complain about stupid shit. I don’t complain. You get over it and carry on with your day. I’m damn grateful to have the job I do have and I don’t want to listen to you tell me my job isn’t good enough, because no matter what job I have, I’ll always have a better work ethic than you. Get over yourself and do something worth while with your life.

The Good, The Bad and The Thoughtful

Saturday morning I got up bright and early (maybe not so bright, it was still dark out at 6am) and headed to the gym. I was getting ready to head out of the locker room before a little old lady asked me how my workouts were going, where I was from and the usual banter. She was extremely nice and told me that I should be very proud of myself for being that dedicated to go to the gym that early on a Saturday morning. She also told me to keep up the good work. She was much kinder and welcoming than some of the other women in the gym. I do enjoy the weekend crowd more than during the week. It really gave me a better attitude going into my Saturday beatmyass workout.

Then heading out of the locker room, who was standing but five or six feet away? Cute Chevy Guy. He makes me melt everytime I see him and we actually said more than half a dozen words to each other, I floated through my workout, I was just seriously PUMPED. I love those kind of days, I love feeling rededicated to something I should have never lost sight of.

So, the bad. I’m hesitent to sign up for the Biggest Loser. I’m not sure what would happen with my job. The show is made during the summer, that is our semi-slow season, but I would still feel extremely guilty for not being here. Another thing that has made me wary is that every single person who ever called me a fatass will actually know just how fat my ass is. They’ll know my weight, my fears and insecurities and how nasty I’ll look in spandex and a sports bra. I’m really trying to wrap my head around what trying out entails. I’m thinking about sending in the application for the hell of it and see what happens. I can always say no I can’t, afterwards, right?

I’m just thinking about how well things are going. I’m back on track at the gym, I’m more confident with the guys and I don’t know if I want to leave. But then, if I don’t go, what if everything falls apart again? If I actually was on Biggest Loser I feel like it would be more permanent, everyone’s watching and waiting for me to fuck up and then there’s the allure of $250,000. Woah. There’s so much I could do with that, I could start my business and move on with my life. It’s a big decision, I want to, but then I don’t. Advice?

Reality TV Podunkette?

Recently, I’ve been thinking about submitting an application for the Biggest Loser contest. Actually, I’ve only been thinking about it for maybe a week now when I decided to check to see when the next season submissions would need to be in by: March 31st. The end of this month. Basically I have a week and a half to decide if this is something I would really want to do if I was chosen. Then I have to make a 10 minute video of myself and fill out a 10-12 page application.

The most daunting thing about the application is having to ask 7 people to be character references… which means I would have to admit to 6 people that I was trying out… and these seven people would know I did this even if I didn’t make it onto the show. Even though on the show I would have to expose myself both physically and emotionally, it’s scary to have to admit my weight problem to other people. Sure, it’s visible, but I don’t have to talk about it and if I go on the show I’m going to HAVE to TALK about EVERYTHING. I might even cry. I’m going to keep working out until I find out if I get on the show and if I didn’t get on the show I would still work out. I also need to find a video camera to borrow and make a DVD. Yea, not a very movie-making-literate person right here.

The person who I thought might be the most excited for me or at least supportive if they weren’t excited, definitely isn’t and makes me second guess submitting an application. I wish my heart wouldn’t get in the way of my head, because my head is excited but my heart wants someone to be excited for me.

I just really want someone to kick my ass. If I could afford a personal trainer I would totally get one. I wish I could get one, I’d have a reason to show up at the gym because I know someone would be there waiting for me, checking up on me, no one checks up on me now, so I can screw around all I want. I don’t want to be a screw off or a screw up. I think being a screw up is a really shitty thing. There’s no pretty way to say that, it’s pretty plain and simple right there.

Putting it all on the line

There was recently an article in my local newspaper discussing probably one of the biggest current health issues and I literally mean biggest: Childhood/Teenage Obesity and Bariatric Surgery. At first glance, I thought, what the hell? “What would school be without the fat kid?” But there are children and teenagers who are extremely over-weight and are ticking time bombs for diabetes, heart attacks and increased risks of cancers. Where were all these concerns when I was going through elementary and high school? Now they’re handing out lap-band surgery to kids as young as 14 years old. What does this teach them? They’re never going to be able to eat more than half a cup of food at a time, there’s certain foods they may never be able to eat because they can’t digest it. What did they and their parents do? They took the easy way out. The road I want to avoid. Kids like that need a kick in the ass and go through what all the other fat kids go through, get over it, you’re not special. Change your diet and exercise.

I’ve always been pretty active, just very overweight. I think I was a anomaly to most doctors, no diabetes, perfect sugar actually, no high blood pressure and good cholesterol, just about everything that should be off the charts according to the latest research was fine. I weighed somewhere around 200lbs in 7th grade at 12 years old. My senior year of highschool at 18 years old I weighed somewhere around 275-300lbs at 5′4″ (my current height). I’m not sure if anyone ever noticed I gained all that weight. I’m sure they did, but since it was steadily over 6 years and I seldom let people take my picture, it probably wasn’t well documented. My friends tried to help, I tried and usually ended up giving up. I had friends who were depressed and suicidal, being the fat kid kind of took a back seat. I never realized what I was/am doing might have actually been a death wish. I don’t think I got the attention I was looking to receive.

I started college right around 310lbs and lost 30lbs my freshman year, I was steady at 280lbs for the next two years, maybe even losing a little. At 21 I jumped back up to 310lbs, probably from the lack of serious activity and having become a culinary major, bagels and croissants were my new best friends. I’ve gained steadily since then. Last June, at 23 years old, I weighed in at a little over 350lbs. I’m not sure of the exact number, I’ve blocked it out. By October of last year I was at 320lbs and feeling amazing. I lost 30lbs in 3 months without really trying. I was going to the gym 4 times a week, changed my eating habits slightly, but kept up some of my old antics.

Today I weigh 338lbs. I haven’t been to the gym in 4 days. I gained back 18lbs in 4 months. I know partially how I did it, I stopped going to the gym for almost 2 months during the winter, I had some serious family problems that I dwelled on and I ate. I’ve never been a fast food junkie (like most fit people would assume) but during the month of January and a week or two of February, every Friday night I would get chinese food after work and completely gorge myself before going out with friends and drinking and whatever else the night would entail. I’ve never, ever done that. 8 chicken fingers, a dozen crab rangoon, maybe some boneless spareribs and 3 or 4 egg rolls. I love egg rolls. I did that one weekend. Skipped a week not really thinking about it and then did it again for 3 or 4 Friday nights in a row. It was easy, no one knew me when I went there, never saw anyone I knew, get my food and bolt. Hide the leftovers in the bottom of the fridge so no one knew and then hide the trash when it was gone. I probably wasted a good $150. I cannot believe I let myself sink that low. I’m not sure how to cope with being an emotional eater.

I’m going to get my gym routine back on track (I have a full year membership, not letting it go to waste), starting to eat better, I’ve already started eating more yogurt and cereal and trying to cut out bread. I eat a banana everyday. I drink at least 5-6 glasses of water if not more. I need to rearrange my life, I’m unhealthy because I’m unhappy and I’m unhappy because I’m fat. I know who I want to be and how I want to feel, it’s just going to be harder than I hoped. I’m not doing my best, but I will and I’ll be great.

Insecuity Rears Its Ugly Head

I think I stopped being insecure about my body when I was about half way through my freshman year of college. I might have lost some weight because I was missing out on all that home cooking, not to mention that I was hiking anywhere between 5-20 miles a week. Nothing drastic had happened to my body, I was down probably 20 pounds, but that certainly wouldn’t have changed my views toward my fat, lumpiness that hangs on a slight frame. (And I only know that I would be a slight young lady is that until I was about 3 or 4, I was a toothpick). Freshman year though, it could have just been that I was drunk enough to hump a giant road cone with a friend and flash a couple guys. The next morning was probably full of embarrassment and laughing between me and my best girlfriends, but later that night I know it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that I was fat. I dated a couple guys. Had two serious relationships while I was in college and my size never once mattered. I was active, I was happy and the attention I received from guys made me even more happy. The year after I graduated I was still receiving that attention, from some pretty great guys. I think the good attitude and vibe I gave off from college carried me through. Somewhere at the end of May, I’ll be going on two years without being in a relationship. Anyways, what this has to do with anything is that I’ve slowly been losing the confidence and pride I once carried. The other day I was at the pharmacy picking out cold medicine when a couple probably frat boys loudly whispered to each other at what a big gut I had and that I probably had cankles too. They had themselves a hearty laugh, they did. I completely ignored the situation, I didn’t run out of the store, I didn’t go get in my truck and cry, it just was what it was. I have to admit I was pretty damn surprised. As much as I wish it didn’t, it stuck with me.

I’ve been doing really well at the gym. I’ve been flirting with a pretty cool guy. I know I’m fat, were their remarks supposed to enlighten me? They actually accomplish the opposite, I want to say inside and sulk and eat cookies. I wish I didn’t feel so shitty about this. I wish that monkey “insecurity” didn’t find it’s way back onto my back.

Dieting

There are things I never thought I’d believe, such as that you can over indulge in your favorite fatty foods. Unfortunately, you can. I started eating healthier (i.e. no more delicious sweet chai or pizza), going to the gym regularly and then last Friday night I went out drinking. HUGE mistake. I drank too much (which I never thought could happen), stayed up too late (a 23 yr old stay up too late?) and splurged with friends to pig out on tacos, fried chicken, crab rangoon, egg rolls and peanut m&m’s. Apparently our drinking habits induce the cravings of a pregnant woman. The next morning I thought I was going to die. My stomach was in knots and as much as I wanted to puke my body refused me the relief. I think I made my bod mad at me and it rebelled to teach me a lesson for my stupidity. It was weird, I’ve never had that feeling before.

Changing is so difficult, what’s better to do with friends than to relax and have a good time with drinks and greasy food? I know I could have eaten/drank less, but it’s so hard to slow down when you start. The first drink leads to “one more” and “one more” leads to “ok another” and the more I drink, the more I drink. I don’t know what do besides feeling like I have to seclude myself from weekend funness with friends. I’m so very mixed up.

Not Gonna Settle

Last night I went a really bad date. I guess the date part wasn’t too bad, the conversation was decent and I probably had one drink too many and was a chatter box. So if the conversation was bad, I wouldn’t have realized. Anyways, on to the bad part of the date. We ended up necking a little and oh my gosh, what a BAD kisser. Seriously, I’ve never been kissed that badly. I thought the guy was going to suck the lower half of my face off and whenever I pulled way he’d pull my head back down. I was not winning this battle. I thought if I kept my mouth kinda closed and went for a small kisses approach he might back off or take a hint, but nope. His tongue was like an overly excited dog’s when they haven’t seen anyone in awhile, just slobbered my face. It was gross. I practically just walked out on the guy.

Got home, washed my face, brushed my teeth and thought good riddance. All I want is a good kisser.

Ready, Set, For What?

New Year. New Ideas. New Resolutions. New Revolutions. I guess this is that post.

I’m ready. For what? Not sure exactly, there’s just a feeling in the air that something good is going to happen. It needs to happen now. I’m not sure how I can say that since I haven’t been to the gym in 3 weeks. THREE WHOLE WEEKS. There’s lots of excuses I could go into, the ice storm and 3 snow storms we’ve had. Being completely exhausted from work and not wanting to get up in the morning. I have to go, I need to go. I’ve signed on for a year’s membership, I’m pretty disappointed in myself that I skipped that many weeks, almost a month, that’s like flushing $42 down the toilet. Not again.

Besides rededicating myself to the gym, I’ve started a food journal. It’s probably going to be the saddest thing I’ve ever written. So to get started I dragged my hungover ass out of bed (step one: cut back on drinking??) and went to the grocery store to stock up on breakfast and lunch items, the meals I have the most control over, dinner is another story. There’s so much to tackle, it’s a bit overwhelming. I’m hoping a food journal kicks my ass into shape harder than just working out. I’m just sick of feeling so lame.

In addition to jump starting my resolutions to pull myself out of Lameness Land, I will stop posting and/or responding to ads on craigslist just to go out on bad dates and make myself even more disappointed in my lacking love life. I am going to leave it be and let whatever needs to happen, happen. No more trying to force it. (Sidenote to the Cute Chevy Guy at the Gym: This is a not-so-subtle hint for you to ask me out).

I think podunkette is going to find her sassy side. Stay tuned.