It should probably go without saying that I like things done. I like to cross things off lists. I like to shift things from the To Do pile to the Done pile with relative speed and efficiency. It’s one of the things that make me such a prolific writer, having completed 33 novels, 28 of those in the past six years. It’s one of the things that make me so good at my 9-5 job, a virtual task master of whipping my department into shape, by chasing after other departments to do the same.
I. Like. Things. Done.
Like Sheldon, remember?
Is it compulsive? Um, yeah. Do I become obsessed to the point of physical and emotional discomfort?
Even in projects where I know it’s going to take some time to get from Point A to Point B, I can be satisfied simply seeing progress in the right direction.
Hence one of the bigger challenges of weight loss, particularly as I’m getting older.
When I was young, I could drop pounds easily in the beginning. When I was 16 and my mother got us on Nutri-System, I lost 36 pounds in six weeks – with cheating.
Of course, most of that weight was in the wallet… hence why we didn’t stay on the program more than six weeks.
When I created my own fasting diet in 1987, I lost 40 pounds from July to November. In 2001, as I was preparing for my wedding, I lost about 30 pounds over a summer. In 2003, when I started my post-Dan desperation diet, I lost 15 pounds the first two weeks just eliminating carbs.
I was an expert, I thought, in losing weight. It’s one of the few benefits of being so heavy. It’s just simply easier to shed those pounds. At first, anyway, then it would slow down and frustrate me to the point of throwing in the towel and going back to the way things were.
This time? I’m not even getting the initial success.
As we get ever nearer to the end of Month Two, I feel like I’m in the exact same spot I was two months ago. In fact, I’d even say I feel worse. I haven’t cracked the ten pounds lost mark in two whole months, when it used to only take a couple of weeks to get that far down the trail. And I’m in even worse physical shape trying to get active. I don’t feel stronger or more conditioned. I’m crawling along over glass and it just seems like I’m stuck in the same place I was.
Even last year, after my health scare, it seemed I was seeing legitimate results right away from the intermittent fasting, dropping a size in a month. And that was without caloric restriction. I simply crammed all my eating into an eight-hour window, stuffing my gullet as much as I pleased – with healthier food, granted – but I never *ever* felt denied. And in no time everyone was telling me how great I looked, even when the scale hardly budged.
Now, nothing is budging. My inches are staying the same. My weight reminds + or – the same five or so pounds. If I didn’t have a scale that showed me that I was at least exchanging fat for muscle, I’d be a basket case that would be impossible to live with.
I’ve shunned dairy. I’ve eliminated sodas. I’ve cut down on sugar and cut calories. I’ve walked, even when it was physically painful to do it, and every step felt (and feels) like torture.
It’s very frustrating that the effort isn’t translating into results I can “see.” Even my clothes are still ill-fitting.
So… I’m at a loss of how to fix this – which is more upsetting to me than the not being done thing. It makes me feel powerless, and I don’t handle that feeling all that well. This is what lends to the binge-eating and reliance on stimulants in the food (sugar/caffeine) to make me feel, for lack of a better word, normal.
I’ve been studying somewhat on fibroid cysts, due to some other concerning symptoms affecting my daily life once a month, so I’ve made a doctor’s appointment next month to rule that out (or do something about it because I’ve no patience to deal with that either.) Surprisingly I found out that it could not only account for some of the more distressing reproductive issues I’ve been having, but could result in weight gain and back pain.
So rather than drive myself crazy, I’ve decided to take action.
Because I have no patience.
And two months is two months too long to see the results I know I’ve been working to achieve.
Thankfully I have a fancy schmancy scale that gives me more info than just a number for my weight, and I see that I’ve been gaining muscle, about four pounds this month alone. So that helps a little that the Big Number, the one by which all my value for some is based, isn’t budging.
But trust… though it looks like I’m not doing anything to anyone who passes me in the street, I’m fighting every goddamned inch up this mountain… through the pain, through the frustration… even when the person I fight most lives in my own head.
So I guess that means my detractors and critics are just going to have to have a little patience too.
Recalculating the only way I can, with knowledge/research.
Since my doctor’s appointment is July 21st, which puts me well into Month Three, I’ve decided to proceed following some of the health advice for PCOS/estrogen dominance/fibroid cysts anyway, since some of them are just general common sense approaches to a healthier diet in general:
- Cutting dairy. I’m going to have to make this one official now, though it pains me. I love cheese as much as the next person but every time I eat it, I feel it working against me. I’ve cut a lot lately, in regards to yogurt and cheese eaten as a snack, but I have to pull the trigger and just eliminate milk, added cheese and *gulp* ice cream. Lord be with me… (and my poor family that has to live with me.)
- Drinking more water. The advice I saw repeated throughout the research I did was 1/2 my body weight. So instead of the 64oz I was aspiring to reach (and often failing,) I’m aiming now for 147. If I slosh as I walk past, kindly ignore.
- Promote liver health with natural dietary changes, like more plant-based options, incorporating veggies like sweet potatoes and broccoli into the diet, using apples and lemons, and employing some turmeric/ginger tea I bought an age ago but haven’t yet had the motivation to “acquire” the taste of it.
- S-s-s-s-ugar. As you know from reading along so far, Sugar is my biggest vice. Given I live with someone who is underweight, who actually wants to gain pounds, I’ve used this as an excuse to indulge with desserts and goodies that, once they enter my house, conquer me on a weekly basis, even if – technically anyway – I can “fit” it into my plan. For my sake, and the sake of my husband, I’m going to have to find healthier ways to satisfy the sweet tooth. For this, Lord, I pray fervently for strength.
So this is my plan going forward until I can speak with my doctor and get better insight into what’s going on with my body. It’ll be my first doctor’s appointment in roughly 3 or 4 years, so I’m a little nervous. At my size, it feels a bit like Russian Roulette, where I’m just waiting to hear those diagnoses that everyone tells me I’m at so much more risk to get than my thinner counterparts. But I need all the help I can get. If I get to the end of July still teetering in the mid 290s, I’m terrified what it will do for my mental health.
I need help, y’all. Most of all, I need patience. I just wish it would hurry up and get here already.
Weigh-In: 294.6 (same as last week) Fat %: 64.2% – down from 66.5% last month. Muscle: 59.8 lbs, up from 55lbs last month.