Thursday, February 16, 2006

One day you'll see the clear blue

Beyond the gray sky

(Poignant little ballad by 311)

It’s funny to me how the simplest things can snap you back into reality just in time to keep you from completely giving up. Things you take for granted any other day may mean the world to you on a day (or a series of days) that, in your current state of mind, couldn’t possibly be worse. The laughter of a child, a sunny day after months of rain, a song that couldn’t possibly have struck a bigger chord, or the kisses of a dog that recognizes your world is crumbling (though she doesn’t quite understand how a toss of her tennis ball doesn’t make everything better). Sometimes you just need help seeing beyond the gray sky.

I knew that one of two things would happen if I ever got out of bed. I would either quickly eat my way to 400 pounds or I would take a stroll over to the opposite end of the spectrum and finally start losing some serious weight. Good news…I’ve lost 14 pounds. Ten of that is in the last couple weeks. I opted not to console myself with pint after pint of Ben & Jerry or the like. I didn’t wallow in Grilled Stuft Burrito after Grilled Stuft Burrito. Instead I kept so busy that meals almost slipped my mind half the time. I didn’t even think I was doing well until this morning when I discovered that my new scale isn’t just off by 3 pounds. It’s off by 5 one day and 8 the next and I’m pretty sure it’s starting to develop horns and a spiked tail. It’s being turned over for an exorcism and then I’m getting rid of it. A couple pounds is one thing but EIGHT POUNDS means the difference of a middle digit and that is psychologically colossal.

My self-esteem is still shot and I don’t think I’ve felt worse about myself but last week a new friend that happens to be fond of girls of my size told me that I was the prettiest he’d seen and didn’t think I’d give him the time of day. That, in essence, it took him 6 months to work up the gumption to actually talk to me. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be the “pretty girl” that “thought she was too good”??? I’m so NOT that way but I at least wanted to qualify for the option to be. How great would it be to know that men aren’t talking to you because they are intimidated by your beauty not because they are intimidated by your size.

People don’t realize how much the things they say to someone can affect them. You never know how bad a person’s day is. They may create the illusion that everything is fine when in all actuality they are using every last ounce of strength they have to just keep it together. One small criticism or well-intended bit of advice can cause a person to crumble whereas one seemingly inconsequential compliment may help a currently devastated girl, well, see beyond the gray sky.

Tuesday, February 7, 2006

Pity? Party of one?

Now that my depo drama seems to have subsided, perhaps now would be a good time to assess my over all state. As of a few days ago I'm the owner of a new all time high...yay me. 362. Yep. I know. At the rate I've gained weight over the last month, I'm bound to reach 400 by summer. Now, my new scale has me 3 or 4 pounds heavier than my old scale but anyway you slice it, 362 or's still an all time new high weight. I'm going with 362 because that really helps sink in the fact that I'm a complete failure.

I've been in bed for days now. Last Friday I was having an exceptionally rough day and then one of the principals of the company came up to me and told me about a diet book I should read. My heart sank. After weeks upon weeks of intense self-esteem issues due to that very subject someone sees me, clearly ponders my hugeness for a moment, and then feels compelled to pull me aside to "help". After a "Wow, that's great." and an "I'll be sure to look into it." I sat at my desk and could not keep from crying.

But wait, there's more. After finally gaining composure the aforementioned individual emailed me to inform me that he's been made aware of the fact that he hurt my feelings and that, in a nutshell, he is devastated that that happened. GREEAAAAATTTTT! Could this day GET any better? Now I'd gone from wanting to crawl in a hole to hoping that another "helper" would come along and shovel all the dirt back in on top of me. I emailed him back assuring him that I never thought he was trying to hurt my feelings and that, in all actuality, I was just oversensitive that day. I then quickly shot an email over to his informant letting them know that not all my problems are theirs to solve and went home and crawled in bed.

After a nice nap I went to Taco Bell. Did I take this catastrophe and turn it into a new found sense of motivation? No. I ate...and I ate...and I ate. Then I slept. The next day I spent a portion of the day with my sister and then I got a pizza. Then I slept. On Sunday I finished the pizza for lunch, laid on the couch to watch the Superbowl, ate Burger King for dinner, and then I slept. All that food is probably why I woke up Monday not feeling all that well. I called in sick, and aside from nature calling for me and Lola, didn't get out of bed until 1:00. It is now Tuesday and I haven't been back to work. Though I really DON'T feel good...chances are high that it's all in my head and I just don't want to face anyone. It wasn't until yesterday that I started eating better. Although most of my meals were skipped, at least the ones I had were healthy. Today, well, it's noon and so far I've only had an apple as I type this.

I thought I was doing better emotionally until I got into a conversation with someone and I realized what a complete basket case I truly am. I was pointing out flaw after flaw and they were countering with how untrue it all was. So, since this was a conversation being held online and the only pictures he had seen of me were strategically cropped...I led him to my blog where, as you've noticed, there is the most appalling picture of me. I thought, "Oh yeah, I'll show you!" After a while he said he had to go because of an appointment and would call me in a few minutes. I was like "Yeah right! Told ya." Well, he did call. He called to inform me that it made no difference. That yes, now he understands what I'm struggling with, but it still makes no difference to him. This is when I said I had to go, hung up, and balled so hard it threw Lola into a complete and utter frenzy.

I'm so tired. Tired of waking up every morning disgusted with myself yet putting on a front so that everyone thinks I'm A-OK. I'm tired of trying to blame the dryer for shrinking my clothes when it's just me getting fatter. I'm tired of repeatedly failing every time I try to lose this weight. I'm tired of spending all my time alone, in my apartment, just because that's the only time I don't feel like people are judging me and where the only one who is happiest just being near a dog. I'm tired...of being ME.