Hi nice person,
It’s good to see you. It means a lot to me that you read my words. I met a brand new friend (and kickass comedian) this past weekend; the warm, red-heel wearing, blessed-with-dimples Katie-Ellen (I’ll hold off on the last name in case she wants to remain anonymous. Trust me, there are thousands of dimpled comedians named Katie-Ellen Humphries in Vancouver. Gasp. I’ve said too much). Shortly after we met and I foisted a hug on her, she said, “I read your blog.” I preen-squealed, which is similar to Jeff Toth’s ‘scream-puke,’ but just different enough that he won’t be annoyed with me. Jeff has a new and wonderfully written blog you should read. Now he can’t be annoyed.
So, I got super angry about a Facebook comment last week. I eventually posted a response, but it was after I had a little curse-filled fit alone in the living room. It was an innocent comment with no negative intention. I know this. I asked via status if anyone knew where I could find Sugar Free Coffee Mate French Vanilla Liquid Creamer. As my nearest and dearest know, FV creamer in my coffee is a big deal to me. It’s my warm, comforting, start-the-day-with-bliss ritual. After I broke up with Fat Free FV (because duh, sugar is Beelzebub), I tried milk – not creamy enough – and Starbucks sugar free vanilla syrup – not quite the same, then eventually ended up using real cream because at least I know it’s just that – cream. Oh, and a dash of Splenda.
The response to the status that angered me was along the lines of, “You’re trying to lose weight, you shouldn’t put that chemical cocktail into you?! Just use cream.”
1. To me, this felt like an explanation; that my fat brain didn’t already know this. This triggered defensive feelings because fat people are often stereotyped as dimwitted or slow. That stereotype filled me with hurt, then anger. In a nutshell, I ALREADY *#&@^% KNOW THAT!
2. I felt judged. It’s as though because I’m losing weight, I should have no food flaws. I got defensive again. Food has been my issue since birth in my estimation. So that’s 47 years of addiction. FORTY-SEVEN. Did I mention I’m FORTY-SEVEN (and thank you for saying I look younger; your wad of cash is in the mail). I am not going to be perfect with my food habits, nor am I striving for anywhere near perfection. Not now, not ever! I’d prefer to be gorgeously flawed than perfect, whatever the hell ‘perfect’ means.
3. I’m sitting here willing myself to be ‘over it’ and to be soooo incredibly mature and healthy that I’d say, “You know what? I’m glad that person said that. I’d like to thank that person so very much for evoking a response that I analyzed. This analysis made me a better person and since then, I have adopted 19 Third-World orphans.” But I’m not quite over it and I’m not quite that mature and healthy. Gorgeously flawed wins again.
I spent the weekend in Vancouver gigging with an absolutely beautiful murder of comedians. That skinny bitch, Darcy Michael, was a show-mate all weekend. In the last 2 years, he’s lost 120 pounds. Our first road trip was last year. He sat in the car knitting a scarf and generously shared his dill pickles with me. Come to think of it, dill pickles have bonded me to more than one friend.
It’s just a treat getting to spend time with someone who has had another person stuck to them, you know? I used to hate that my old Weight Watchers leader had lost…. get ready for it… an entire, whopping 17 pounds! SEVENTEEN POUNDS! Whatever, bitch. Good for you, but you don’t have a clue. You haven’t been anywhere near where I’ve been. Having Darcy there was like having a handsome, snarky, yet understanding, pseudo-psychologist on call. And he gives me the best intros ever, e.g. “I have to work with THIS BITCH all weekend and she won’t stop touching me… please welcome…”
This past week, I continued with the low glycemic eating and not counting calories. Counting calories has been so ingrained in me that NOT counting them feels like someone just took the training wheels off my bike. “Um… whooooa, are you sure this is a good idea? [wobble] Gah!” Eating low GI feels really good. I need less sleep. My legendary naps are shorter. I’m still getting used to the idea of ‘you can eat as much as you want of low glycemic foods – within reason.’ I’m enjoying it though. And to my astonishment, any cravings have faded away.
I went to Psych yesterday. I mentioned my bitchy inner voice to her. We discussed. She then mentioned a song and I decided I would dedicate it to my Cruella the Bitch (thanks, Angie). Do feel free to have a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rl8avTLMK_Y&feature=related
Let’s see if this GI eating worked for a second week, shall we? Well, well… 1.4 more pounds slid off. It kind of boggles my mind that I didn’t log my food or count calories and the weight still came off. It’s a good boggle though, almost as good as the game itself.
Lawdy, I’ve babbled on! Thanks for hangin’ in with me. Some people say they read this blog with their morning coffee or on their break from work. Well, that just effing rocks. I’m giddy that you make me a wee part of your day (because I’m so wee – get it? Heh? Hello?).
Pounds lost this week: 1.4
Total pounds lost: 36.5