It’s been awhile since I posted my weight in bold. Did you notice? I did. I had a little setback and fell off the skinny wagon. I got all the way back up to 293 before catching myself (thanks to a new-hole-ripping by my doctor). I blame it partly on my knee and partly on work-stress – oh, and partly on me being hungry all the time. But, I’m back on the wagon, thanks to the previously mentioned hole-ripping from the good doctor. I’m back on the skinny wagon and am down to my lowest weight of the trip: 282.5, that’s a pound and half lower than my previous low: 284. That brings the grand total of fat lost from this frame to: 43.5 pounds. That’s like taking a Max-sized chunk out of my body.
How did I do it? The first thirty-five pounds came off through diet and a little exercize. I stopped drinking soda altogether, stopped eating my traditional bagel and cream cheese for breakfast, started eating salads for lunch, stopped snacking, and held myself to one serving at dinner. It was actually not that hard to keep up for the first four months or so. Then, as soon as the stress at work began, I started slipping. I didn’t go back to chugging Code Red and eating bagels, but I ate more. I snacked more. I ate more at dinner, and I stopped eating salads for lunch. I figured I “owed” it to myself. The pounds creeped back on, and I got angry with myself. Did I stop? No, the anger only made me hungrier – so I ate. I went back to the doctor and my blood pressure was back up. He prescribed more drugs, and well, here I am – duly humbled and taking more drugs.
For a couple days, I felt like a complete failure. After hurting my knee working out, and then the doctor, I was a wreck: depressed, insomniac, tired. Not only did I hurt myself trying to be good (working out), but I couldn’t keep the weight off. Now, the doctor had given me the ultimate insult – he prescribed an appetite suppressant. I actually cried on the way back from the appointment.
Now? I’m not so bad. I’m not a failure. Overeating is a disease, just like alchoholism. It’s an addiction like heroin. It’s hard to break, and next to impossible to overcome forever. So, I need a little medicinal help. I admit it. I’m not strong enough to conquer the entire mountain by myself. I did a damn good job losing thirty-five pounds on my own, finding my own bad habits, fixing them, and not cheating for a good four months. Now, I need help to go the rest of the way to 200. Eighty-two and a half pounds is a lot to lose without help. I’m already at a disadvantage with one twice-operated on knee and a weird ankle that’s never been quite right since that horrible sprain ten years ago. I’ll take whatever help I can get.