And I Was Full

The last few weeks have been a struggle. For months I would start each week with that high ambition of making it "the week" that I get back on the wagon of watching what I ate religiously. And by about 3 p.m. Monday afternoon, there would be a bag of gummi bears on my desk.

For some reason, I just couldn't feel satisfied. I don't want to blame it on stress or being busy because I can't think of a person on Earth, who doesn't have those two words and all the feelings around them to justify any poor behavior. Something felt off and different. I didn't seem to be eating all that much more, but weight kept creeping on and for about three weeks I lost the feeling of fullness. It seemed like I could push myself to eat steadily without that feeling that prompts me to stop.

But the real motivation came when I was in the bathroom and closed a drawer on my stomach while leaned over the counter to do my makeup. It's pretty embarrassing to admit. I mean, I have typed a novel with my boobs without even knowing it (busty women out there can feel me on that one), but I've never closed a drawer on my stomach. Here's the scary part: I didn't feel it or realize it until I leaned back. I probably shouldn't admit that but let's just put you all in the frame of mind that I was dealing with when I decided enough was enough.

I knew I had to get a handle on things quickly. I didn't want to end up where I was at about seven years ago when I started my first weight loss adventure. I couldn't wait until I was well over 200 lbs before I righted the ship.

Plus I had enough encouragement from Chef telling me that he thought I had a slow metabolism because I wasn't eating that much. Maybe I wanted some validation, so I decided to go to a doctor and see what I could find out. I had a bunch of tests and it turns out the news was reassuring but also kinda crappy: turns out my metabolism burns about 450 calories less per day than it should.

The doctor asked if I had tried Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig or anything else. In fact, WW was the last thing that I had tried about 2 years ago and it wasn't really effective--because even at the lower calorie intake, it wasn't low enough to overcome the 450 calorie deficit that my metabolism was bringing to the table.

I'm now working to "reset" my metabolism and am on a protein and plant-based plan to help drop some lbs again. I know and always know that battling the bulge will be a lifelong struggle for me, but knowing that doesn't make it suck any less.

Wish me luck. . .again.

Things that Don't Get Easier The More You Do Them

Some days deserve a French Fry
happy ending.

There's a big myth that I used to subscribe to that things get easier the more you do them. The older I've gotten the more I realize that this blanket statement relates to a LOT of things in life, but certainly not everything. So I started thinking. . .what are things that don't get easier the more you do them:

• Doctors appointments
• Bikini waxes
• Writing a novel
• Colts and/or Hoosiers losses (particularly in the playoffs, Super Bowl or NCAA tournament)
• Bathing cats
• Pitching stories to journalists that your client/co-worker/sponsor expects to see place and you know you don't have a shot in hell (clearly, that's PR specific)
• Exercise--yes, technically it exerts you less the more you do it, but it's still hard to want to do it. AND if you skip a few days, it's almost like starting back at square one, which doesn't seem fair.
• Diets-duh
• Calculus- this could just be me, but I despite my B, I never did get Calculus. 
• Watching bad stand-up comedy--particularly in person

What would you add to the list?

** Despite the fact that I'm not advertising McDonald's, I am required to mention that I work with the brand. They are a client. (Yes, I'm very lucky). I will also testify, which MANY people can back up, that my love of the McDonald's french fry goes back longer than my current job. Because they rock my socks off. 

I Wore My Good Underwear to Get My Hands X-rayed

Not so much my hand

Sometimes I've been known to not think things through the whole way. Yesterday would be one of those times. You see a few weeks ago I visited a new rheumatologist. I've had some progressively aching hands to match a hip that aches every now and again, and my dermatologist recommended it. I could deal with my hip hurting because it's just a hip. But my hands?!? No way. I use them too much.

So I went in for my appointment and because it was just my hands, I didn't expect the exam to be too invasive. But she's apparently a very thorough rheumatologist (plus she's a HUGE college basketball fan, Kansas, but I'll forgive a little rock chalk jayhawk for someone who at least knows where Indiana is). She talked through my family history, and then had me strip down to a gown and my undies for the rest of the exam.

I had not expected this and as I'm apt to do on occasion was not wearing undies. So there's that.

I vowed never to let this happen again. She ordered a bunch of x-rays on my hips, wrists and chest and I was well-prepared. So when I got called back in for my hands x-rays this week, I was ready. I went back to the radiology lab and was jumping into the room that I'd been in the week before. I put down my purse and started to take off my clothes when the tech just looked at me.

"You get to keep your clothes on today. We're just x-raying your hands."

Between the no undies and the strip down, I'm pretty sure my doctors all think that I'm an exhibitionist. Oh well, I have a gynecologist exam soon and I know they need me to be naked.

Ouch.

For the last week or so I've been making an incredible transformation. I go to bed as a 32 year old and wake up as a 70 year old. It's quite amazing.

Sadly, not all of me is 70. Or should I be thankful. There are days that I would debate that. But mostly I'm thankful.

So why am I feeling so old? Because for the last week I have woken up with the world's worst neck crick. Actually, it's probably more than a neck crick. It's horrendous. It's what Chef thinks is a seized muscle. My neck (and subsequently my shoulder) are so taut and painful to move. There's a strip of muscle and tendon that run down the length of it. Chef's theory (and probably a right one) is that that muscle is refusing to move and tightens up because it's trying to immobilize my neck. It wants to prevent further damage.

Sadly there's really no medicine for that. No form of Aleve or Tylenol: Muscle Seizure that can help. I've tried warm showers to loosen it up and Chef has probably sprained a hand from massage. But still no use. And to make things more complicated, the pain is probably related to my sleeping with one arm under my head of my back.

I think this might be the one that sends me over the edge to doctordom. I've got to visit because at this point, I'm thinking muscle relaxers sound like a hell of an idea. And for the last trick, I've got to torture Chef by sleeping on my back. Hope I don't snore too loudly.

Not that, in the end, I'm looking for much. Just to wake up and feel like a 40 year old.