Recipe: BBQ Turkey stuffed Sweet Potato

Some nights I just crave something different.  This recipe uses a couple of staples that I eat all the time but adds a bit...

Ingredients

• Large sweet potato (about 1 pound)
• Onion
• 1 pound lean ground turkey
• 1/4 cup barbeque sauce (I use sugar free)
• Shredded cheese (I use part skim)
• Olive oil
• Salt and pepper

Directions

• Preheat oven to 400
• Microwave sweet potato for 4 minutes
• Carefully cut sweet potato in half
• Rub cut side with a little olive oil place on cookie sheet - cook for 45 minutes
• Carefully scoop insides of sweet potato out and into a bowl
• Rub skin side of potato with olive oil, add salt and pepper, put empty side down on cookie sheet and bake 10 minutes more
• Cook ground turkey and chopped onions together
• Mash up sweet potatoes in the bowl, add the cooked turkey and onions, barbeque sauce and some cheese - mix up well.
• Divide mixture between the 2 sweet potato skins, top with some cheese and put back in the oven for 3-5 minutes

And then?  ENJOY!!!

Yeah, it’s MY issue!

Today I had a busy morning.  It was cold and extremely windy, plus I was incredibly sore from yesterday’s run outside – my body has to get used to the impact again – so running was a no-go.  Instead I went down to the basement and did a Les Mills Combat DVD during lunch.

I then started working on a project.  About an hour before I was off work, I had to go to another floor to talk to someone about a client.  My timing SUCKED because just then I saw a transaction go down. 

Yes, I witnessed someone buying one of the most addictive substances known to man…

(Ominous music plays)

GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!!

And the buyer proceeded to immediately OPEN the box and happily shoveled a few into his mouth.

Of course it couldn’t be Thin Mints or another flavor I don’t really care about – NOOOOOOOO.  It had to be Tagalongs – you know the delicious peanut butter with chocolate covering it…

Given my bordering on pathological addiction to peanut butter, I almost stroked out.  Especially when he offered me one and before I could barely shake my head no, he took about 5 more and happily began plowing through them.

I practically ran for the stairs.  If there was any justice in this world – the simple act of refusing these crack like substances from hell should have made 5 pounds immediately drop off of me as I climbed 2 flights of stairs.  But we all know there is no fucking justice to be found!

I lamented what had just happened to my co-worker.  And before anyone thinks that I am judging the cookie eater, let me assure you that I am not.  I realize that this is my issue and it’s about total and complete jealousy – pure and simple.

Not because he got to eat some Girl Scout cookies.  No, but because in his world having a few cookies is no big deal.  He wanted some and he ate them.  I lived in that world once.  But it didn’t work out so well for me!

Me, I drank some hazelnut coffee.  While visions of Tagalongs danced in my head…. 

On top of the world…

Ok, not really, but I’m holding my own.  I ran outside today.  It is still fricking COLD here.  But the sun was shining brightly.

Marc asked me if I was really going out in the cold and I told him I just couldn’t bear the thought of doing a long run on the treadmill today.  He told me not to run then – do something else, he suggested.  I asked him if he has noticed how incredibly fat I am getting again.  Which pissed him off.

I headed out and straight into the wind.  So the mental negotiations began.  Only 6! I told me.  6 became 8.  Around mile 7 the song “On Top of the World” by Imagine Dragons came on.  And I listened to these lyrics:

“I’ve tried to cut these corners
Try to take the easy way out
I kept on falling short of something

I coulda gave up then but
Then again I couldn’t have ’cause
I’ve traveled all this way for something”

And I told me that I have traveled all this way for something.

I ended here:

Which isn’t very long.  Or very fast.  But considering this is the longest run I’ve done outside since DECEMBER?  I’m taking it.

I’ve eaten well all weekend.  Marc and I did a yoga last night and I really pushed myself.  Many downward dog poses gave me the opportunity to stare at the new and improved “Defy Gravity” that is displayed on my foot.

This week I go to see a new doctor for my annual checkup.  I am prepared to be scolded for my weight.  It will hurt.

I am also prepared to start April right!!

Been there, done that!

Did you guys see Mike and Molly this week?  Sometimes this show is so spot on, it actually hurts!  We had recorded it and watched it last night.

Last night’s episode focused on Mike, who has now lost over 50 pounds.  First he squeezes himself into these jeans he hasn’t worn in ages and – even though he can barely walk – claims victory when he gets them on and buttoned  (Been there, done that!)

But then he is feeling so good and congratulating himself for having lost weight, and being “good” for 6 months and he decides that he is due for a treat – so at the diner, he has a piece of pie with some ice cream on top.

The next morning he gets on the scale to discover that this one indulgence has resulted in a 5 pound gain on the scale – OMG I have SOOOOOO been there, done that!

So he does something stupid that many of us, including me, has done – totally overreacts and decides that he has skip breakfast and lunch to even the score.  By the end of the day, he is tired and starving and short tempered.  And insanely jealous of his friend who stuffed himself silly all day, but will lose it all by the time he goes to bed that night.

Just then, a co-worker comes in and starts mocking him and his weight.  You know the type – we’ve all had assholes like this in our lives.  The ones who make fun of and judge us, but do it in a “joking” way.  And then, when we blow up, they try to  turn it around that it’s our fault that we can’t take a joke.

Mike loses it and punches the guy.  He is suspended and is required to see a counselor.

Later, after initially lying, he finally comes clean to Molly, and laments to her what many of us have said – either out loud to another person or just in our heads.  He asks when it is going to stop being so hard.  He wonders when the time will come that he doesn’t have to analyze and worry about every single thing that goes in his mouth.  And he says that it is not fair.

I can’t help but be surprised that this issue was tackled realistically and sensitively by the writers.  Because the only ones that will truly “get it” is those of us that are fighting this battle.  And fat people?  They seem to be the only ones left that can be made fun of and disrespected and berated – in real life and on tv, and it’s ok. 

In the end, Mike and Molly both go to an overeaters anonymous meeting and he talks about how life should be about happiness and being loved by those around us and not about scale numbers.  He says that most days that’s enough.  But for those of us who have to fight this battle on a daily basis – we know that it’s not always that simple…

A bit of a touch up!

It was 2010.  I was at the very beginning of my journey and I was motivated and enthusiastic,  I decided I wanted a tattoo to symbolize what I was going through.

I chose the phrase Defy Gravity from the musical “Wicked” and I wanted to be surrounded with musical notes.

I checked out a couple of tattoo shops and got reviews and went out to one.  I told the girl what I wanted and she did a design.  I liked it, but turns out I didn’t scrutinize it carefully – just blindly (and STUPIDLY) trusting the artist - and had her slap it on.   I read a book while she was doing it.

When she was done, it was good, but not great.  And there were some mistakes and the phrase that meant to much to me?  Well, you could certainly tell that’s what it said, but only if you knew the words.  And it wasn’t nearly as colorful like I had requested.

Again, my own mistake but I never went back to see if it could be changed or altered more to what I wanted.

Fast forward.  Yesterday we had graduation.  Before the ceremony as people were milling about and we were waiting for people to arrive, someone pulled out his guitar and began playing and singing.  I couldn’t resist and was pulled over there by the force of my own ego. 

“What do you want me to play?” he asked me.  “Wanted: Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi?” I asked.  He smiled and began the guitar intro.

And we sang.  I sang loud and without reservation.  And then we sang another song.  And one more for good measure.  We got applause, and people that apparently didn’t know I have a musical background were quick to tell me how awesome we both sounded and how they thought it was so cool. 

Afterwards it came to me how much fun that was and I realized how much I MISS music and performing.  Now look, I was never good enough to be a professional singer, but as a hobby?  I’m a decent singer and I enjoyed it A LOT.  And standing there singing my heart out?  It as like I found part of me again.

I’ve said many times that this journey requires a ton of sacrifice.  And I’ve sacrificed many things.  But as I reflected on yesterday today, I realized that my life has become pretty centralized on diet and exercise and lots of things I enjoy have disappeared. 

That’s a small price to pay for this new life I have, but still…

So today I “should” have gone outside and ran 6 miles like I planned.  But I didn’t.  Instead I went to a tattoo shop.  I told the guy what I liked on my tattoo and what I didn’t.  He was literally just finishing up another guy and had nothing booked.  He told me what he could do – what he wanted to do.  We struck a deal and 5 minutes later he was working on my tattoo.

We started talking and – believe it or not – his father is a counselor and we worked in the same building 20 years ago when I was pretty fresh out of college.  SYNCHRONICITY? 

He went above and beyond what I expected.  He hated the lettering and told me to trust him.  He covered it up and re-printed.

So I sit here with my leg throbbing, but pretty happy.  It turned out great, in my opinion.

I already had a tattoo there – it wasn’t new, just improved.  And I am so HOPING that this translates to me journey.  I don’t need to start over, I just need a touch up!

Head forward…

I am so anxious for this month to end!  This year has not started out how I’ve hoped for with the terrible weather and my inability to get my shit together.

Today we actually got into the 40’s.  I ran, but it was so windy that my time sucked and I had to walk some of it.  But the warmer temps almost made up for it.

Tomorrow, I will celebrate the success of people who once saw their lives falling apart and now are happy and productive.  If statistics are right, unfortunately this change won’t last forever for all of them.  But since the future isn’t promised to any of us, I won’t be making any predictions or worrying about what will happen 2 months, 2 years down the road.  I will simply hug them in happiness, appreciate where they are now, and the rest is up to them!

Tomorrow is also cause for another celebration of sorts.  Marc’s dad will have his last immunotherapy treatment.  Remarkably, the last 5 treatments have had NO side effects and there’s no reason to think this treatment will be any different. 

The treatments he has had  drops his chance of the cancer recurring to very low.  We don’t know how many more years we will have with him, but for him to have had the treatments without having to suffer vicious side effects?  That’s pretty fucking awesome.

So, I can see some light, some hope in front of me.  I wish that the thoughts of my weight weren’t consuming me right now – I know it’s unhealthy and not in any way helpful, but I can’t seem to get out of my own way right now.

Once I can get out and about consistently, I think, at least I HOPE, things will get better all around!

A delicate balance…

I was talking to this guy yesterday.  He is extremely bright and has a lot of varied interests. So he historically has had these huge lofty future goals.  He would be thinking about things years in the future and obsessing about how to get there or if he was making the “right” choice.  The future forward thinking became almost so time consuming that he couldn't focus on the present.

But, after some reevaluation, he is now making a concerted effort to change this.  He still has goals, but they are more short term, concrete and realistic. And guess what?  He is much less anxious and more peaceful.  AND he gets shit done and has better relationships with people.

Most recovery programs suggest that addicts take things one day at a time.  And there is huge advantages to this philosophy.  Because when we get too ahead of ourselves we sometimes fail to accomplish the first step because we are so intent on looking at step 5!  And looking far into the future can be daunting.

I have to say I was really good at keeping things in the present when I was actively losing weight.  Because I didn't have this "pie in the sky" idea that I was going to lose 200 pounds!   No, I just focused on good decisions day to day and succeeding more days then not, and the weight took care of itself.

But living that way is dangerous, too.  Because I now find myself thinking "Fuck it, I could die tomorrow - I should eat whatever I want!!"

This goes not just weight loss but other life choices.  I am in the deferred compensation plan at work.  Which will help me tremendously in retirement.  If I live to see retirement!  A part of me HATES seeing money taken out of my paycheck every week that I hope I live to see but I might not.

Remember, I am a child of a man who saved and talked about retirement plans and died far from being able to use it.

This is such a tricky balance for me.  I continue to struggle so hard with my eating right now and as I just keep gaining weight there's a part of me that wants to surrender - live for today and fuck tomorrow.  But when tomorrow comes and I’m still here, what then?

Time...

Time warp!

Logically, I know that there are 24 hours in a day.  And, of course, each hour passes at a scheduled pace whether we are sleeping, in pain, bored, drunk, or having the time of our lives.

Why then, does it seem that the week drags and the weekends go by way too fast?  

Here's a pic of my boys today - it was taken just as we finished a 6 mile speed walk.

Speed walk, you say?  Was that due to me wanting to burn as many calories as possible?  Well, yes. And nope! It might have had something to do with it being about 13 degrees with a "feels like" temp of 4.

Will this freaking winter please die a fast and terrible death?  Please?  Pretty please with a mother fucking cherry on top!!!

I am holding it together mentally but just barely.  This week is graduation week where we celebrate everyone who has graduated from my program over the last 6 months.

So wonderful, but a TON of work and tremendous stress leading up to it.  I've been dealing with it over the last couple weeks and it's only going to get worse for the week.

And it's not like I stress eat, right?  I am so screwed people!!!

Forever fat...

I ran into an acquaintance today.  She is someone I worked with many years ago and we see each other once and a while.  So she knew me when I was fat and then when I lost weight, but it's been at least a year since we've seen each other.

She immediately told me that I was still "looking great".   She then said that she has no willpower and "I've come to the conclusion I'm going to die fat and that's all there is to it!". She paused, shook her head and then made some comment about me and how much willpower I have and how she has none.

I smiled weakly and told her that I know how hard it is and that I fight every day.  She then changed the subject and I kind of moved on.

I never know what to say in these situations.  Should I have told her that it's not about willpower, per se?  Should I have told her that she can do it?  Was she looking for advice - encouragement?  Did she want a magic answer?  Would she want to hear any of it?

I never want to come across as preachy or smug or disingenuous.  If I told her that I am so unhappy with myself right now, would she be disgusted?  When I was fat and saw people that I believed were thin, I wanted to punch them in the face when they said that they needed to lose weight.  I was so envious of what I perceived as a perfect life - how dare they pretend that their bodies weren't ideal!!

Even though I feel horrible about my body right now, I also know how much better off I am - physically and mentally - then when I was obese.  And I know for sure that because I did it ANYONE can.  She doesn't have to resign herself to anything.  But how to share that - I don't have it figured out....

What’s in a number?

I've talked before of thinking of calories like money.  So if you only have a certain amount to spend in a day, you have to decide how to spend it.  There is no science or right or wrong to this, but you have to find what works for you.

For me, it's important to get VOLUME - I can eat a small amount and feel SO HUNGRY a short time later even if it has the same calorie count of something that is much larger.  My belly wants to be full.

I also find that protein fills me up.  Because I lift weights, it's important to get that protein in to build muscle.

So the numbers - I was thinking about them today.  For our morning meeting someone brought in a box of macaroons from Walmart.  I don't even care for macaroons that much - but when has that ever stopped me from wanting to stuff something sweet in my face.

As I often do, I grabbed the box, flipped it over, and looked at the calories.  Seeing the cold hard numbers usually helps me say no.  Serving size - 2 cookies.  140 calories.  That helped me throw the box back down.  That price was to steep for me.

At lunch I pulled out what I had packed and surveyed it.  Here is part of my lunch.

It's kale - 90 calories worth.

And here is a 70 calorie macaroon.

Let's see what they look like hanging out together.

Things like this, unfortunately, don't make me not WANT the cookie, but it does help me make the better and smarter CHOICE.

OK, then, who am I?

http://www.niashanks.com/not-your-diet/

I ran across this late yesterday and boy has it given me something to think about.  I want to thank the author.  I've read it now 3 times and will no doubt be reading it more.

I'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Don’t kid yourself!

I think I’ve told you guys before that I work with a lot of really young, very fit men. 

It’s pretty cool in some ways because no one else that I work with is into working out as much as I am.  And that is especially  true about lifting weights.  But these guys are all into that, so at times I’m able to have enough time in the day to take a few minutes and chat with them about our common interests.

In some ways, though, working with these guys SUCKS.  Because these young little fuckers – well, they eat like there’s no tomorrow.  Protein shakes and loads and loads of food – mostly healthy but not always – they can get away with that being men in their 20’s.  Obviously I’m totally jealous.

So yesterday we’re talking about running and lifting and this one young guy is talking about running and doing 6 minute miles.  And he has a video he wants to show me of him back squatting 325 pounds. 

And I start to get anxious.  And I instantly start mentally comparing myself to him and thinking about what a LOSER I am running 8 minute miles.  And how I can’t lift anywhere near what he is lifting.

Seriously??  I am a 42 year old woman who was morbidly obese most of her life.  Forget that morbidly obese part – I am a 42 year old woman who is – (insert serious crying here) – starting to show early signs of menopause. 

And I’m comparing myself to a 24ish year old man?  But I do it all the time.  I do the P90X and other workout videos and lament that my abs don’t look like the women in the videos.  Or the guy in the back is using 15 pound weights and I am struggling using 10.

It’s foolish, right?  I’m not a professional athlete.  I’m not someone who gets PAID to stay in shape.  I don’t have hours and hours to work out and I don’t have a personal trainer. 

So I did a reality check on myself.  And when I get undressed tonight to go to bed and I look in the mirror – as I do every night while desperately trying to see shrinking stomach fat and the emergence of abs – - I’ll remember the reality of who I am.  And hopefully I’ll appreciate her….because the reality is – I’m not so bad…

Accountability and sanity…

Accountability is so so important in this journey.  That's why I think it's important to tell at least one person you trust of your plans - preferably it is someone that wants to also take on a lifestyle change along with you.  If you can find someone to workout with - even if it's a nightly walk - that's awesome.  Or how about a friend who shakes their head when you stare longingly at the donuts in the morning meeting?

I've said before that I don't think I could have ever done this without Marc.  He kept and still keeps me honest by encouraging me to workout when I don't want to.  It also helps me to eat healthy dinners when we make the dinners and grocery shop together.  We help keep each other on track.

I also think technology is a fantastic way to keep yourself accountable.  Having a Fitbit or other wearable device telling you you've only made 3,000 steps when your goal is 10,000?  That encourages you to maybe park further from the store - or walk to the bathroom that’s urther from your office - or walk up and down the stairs a couple of times.  Every little bit helps!

Another tool – a big one - is the scale.  That is a constant accountability tool.  And for me, what worked my whole journey was climbing on the scale every day and seeing my progress or lack thereof.

But now?  I haven't been on the scale in like 2 weeks.  Because I know what I see will devastate me.  And I've been so depressed this winter and I feel like I'm just coming out of it and I don't want to destroy that by knowing a number.

It's so stupid, because knowing the number won't mean I'm any fatter then not knowing.  But somehow, mentally, I seem to think that it does.

So everyday I look at the scale knowing that I need accountability and I need to get my ass on there and see the numbers!  But I also want to relish feeling good, feeling SANE for the first time in way too long.  So am I right or wrong in just hiding from the truth?  I really don't know...

Trying my best!

Shamrock Run

Today was the Shamrock Run.  A 5 mile run that ends near our state office building where they hold the annual Irish Festival.

Last year was my first year running it and it was a miserable experience.  It was cold with sleet raining down, high winds and the roads got icy. 

As you know from yesterday’s post I was having anxiety about running this.  But last night we were watching the series True Detective and Woody Harrelson’s character was talking about life and one day looking back and realizing your life had slipped through your fingers like sand.

It was an ah-ha moment for me.  I suddenly was asking myself why I had anxiety instead of being joyful at the opportunity to get out and have a fun time.

I slept easy – which never happens to me before a race.

I woke up to grey skies, but temps in the upper 30’s and, blissfully, no wind.  The rain would hold off, I was sure of it.

I got ready and headed out.

I got there and saw many runners from other events – who recognized the tutu, I’m sure and not me!

I was the most serene and relaxed I have ever been at a race and when the horn sounded I took off at a relaxed and easy pace.  There were 323 runners so we were packed in pretty good.  I concentrated on NOT pushing myself.  I was not wearing headphones and tried to listen to my body. 

The first mile went quickly and when my Garmin beeped, I saw that it was an 8:22 minute mile.  Not too bad.

Mile 2 was ok, but from there to 2.5 was a steep uphill climb – “Dude, do we really have to run that hill??” the teenager running near me and his friend as we looked ahead to it looming in front of us.

But as we rounded the corner, I said “Ah!  Now the downhill starts!” and a few near me nodded.

Mile 3 I felt a side stitch hit me.  This could have either been leftover effects from the viral infection or that I was running much faster then I have been on the treadmill.  Or maybe both.  I ran both mile 2 and 3 at a sub 8 minute pace.

So mile 3 sucked pretty bad, but at the end of it, there was someone with a megaphone yelling “1 more mile!”  The stitch disappeared.  I was happy and still relaxed.

And then, there the finish line stood and I pushed to get across it coming in at 38:31. 

I came in 82nd overall.  And I won a 3rd place medal for my age group.

Not amazing or wonderful, but satisfactory.  I feel pretty good tonight. 

Under pressure....

I have been able to run quite a bit this winter.  Unfortunately it has been exclusively on the treadmill.  Even though I put an incline of 2 the treadmill it's just not the same as running outside.  

As I found out on Tuesday.  I got outside amd began running.  It felt good to be outside and running - but it was HARD.  Hard on my body and hard to breathe.

And tomorrow?  I have a race I signed up for.  The Shamrock Run - a 5 mile run.  

And I am so worried about running it!  I told that to my friend today and she asked me why I was so worried.  I told her that I was afraid of humiliating myself.  By running slow or - worse - having to walk some of it.

She told me lovingly that I am fucking crazy and to get over myself.  She also reminded me that I was just in the ER with an IV in my arm.  And if I have to walk some of it, big deal.

I laughed.  And went back to obsessing.

Wish me luck!!

The land of the living…

I almost feel like I’ve been zombie-fied these last several weeks.  The trudging into work in the freezing cold.  Being cold to my BONES constantly. 

The drag of an unrelenting routine and running mile and after mile in the basement.  The lack of sun.  No wonder I’ve been miserable.

Then getting sick and being in agonizing pain.  I started to wonder what I had done karma wise!

And then today dawned.  For the first time in days I didn’t have intense pain in my abdomen.  I wasn’t back to normal, mind you, but I felt so much better!

And then I saw the best therapist one could possible ask for:

Yes, the sun actually made an appearance!  And the temps were ABOVE FREEZING!  I could have cried.

I walked at lunch.  And came home, changed my clothes and RAN OUTSIDE.  It was my first run outside in over 3 months!  And it was UGLY.  How something can feel HORRIBLE and MAGNIFICENT at the same time?  I know some of you must get it!

Back home I actually wanted something healthy to eat.  I wasn’t craving sweets and processed food.  There is NO WAY that what I want to eat isn’t dictated by my mood.

Having been inspired by Panera Bread’s broth bowls, we made our own – with the Soba noodles, broccoli and ground turkey in a spiced Asian broth.

SO. FREAKING. GOOD!

And not something that afterwards I feel guilty for having eaten!!

I can feel peace and happiness returning.

Here’s the rub my friends – and something I ruminated about as I walked today.  I seriously – seriously – don’t think I can take another winter like this.  How many more years can I spend at least 1/3 of my life completely miserable living here? 

And yet?  How do I give up what I have for a scary and uncertain path? 

Fast food flashback

You guys know that one of the first things I gave up at the beginning of this major life change was soda.  I drank a lot of soda, specifically Mountain Dew.

I also gave up fast food like burgers and fries.  I know my last soda was in May 2010.  I don't know when my last serving of fried French fries was, but it had to be around the same time.

Before that I was pretty much a Wendy's gal.  I even worked for Wendy's at our local mall the summer before I started college.  It was awesome because it came with a wonderful employee discount - SCORE!

Last Sunday, Marc and I got new cell phones.  We were in the mall and it takes a while to do all the paperwork, and I got really thirsty.  The thought popped in my head that Wendy's was right next to the cell phone place, I should just run over and get one of their huge cups of Mountain Dew.

Um....WHAT?  It was such an unexpected and out of nowhere thought.  I mean almost 5 years later that would come into my mind was baffling.

The phrase is "old habits die hard" and that is for sure!  I wasn't bothered by the thought, even Fat Jen made no attempt to convince us.  It was just striking the way the past creeps up on us, and I can certainly see how it would be so easy to get sucked back in to unhealthy behaviors if your guard isn't up!!!

I think that this is especially true when you are weakened – by sickness (like I was), stress, fatigue – any of these can make us vulnerable.  Just another reason to stay healthy!

Monday, crappy Monday

You guys know what a pathetic drama queen I am.  But one thing that I am NOT overly dramatic about – and never have been – is my health.  I don’t get worked up over colds.  I rarely take ibuprofen or other OTC’s.  I go to the doctor’s when I have to and I don’t run there all the time looking for meds.

So after my visit to Urgent Care on Saturday, I woke up Sunday feeling pretty good.  My stomach was still off,  but the pain was lessened.  I got in a good morning workout – 27.5 miles on the exercise bike.  And then I ate lunch which didn’t upset my stomach.  I was sure the tide had turned.

We ran some errands which included delivering some very disgusting body fluids, per doctor’s orders, to the local lab.  Then we got home and my stomach started bothering me.

I ate dinner which was a HUGE mistake.  Starting at about 8PM last night it felt like there were a dozen very tiny, but angry men, using pick-axes to try to cut their way out of my stomach.

By 4:15 AM, I was sitting on the toilet for about the 12th time that night, quite certain that I was losing all internal organs and might die because of the pain.

When my alarm went off to get up for work, Marc looked over and asked how I was.  I admitted I didn’t know how I was going to work with the pain I was is, plus running to the bathroom frequently.  Marc reminded me – in his gentle way – that the doctor at Urgent Care had directed me to go to the Emergency Room today if I was not better.

I reluctantly agreed.

We arrived at about 7:15 AM.  I had blood drawn, an IV inserted and was handed a cup to give a urine sample.  The doctor pushed and prodded, but there was no acute pain when he did that.  Over the course of an hour I was directed to drink 2 cups full of disgusting fluids.  And we waited…and waited…

Every time I had to take a bathroom trip I had to be disconnected from the IV.

Then it was off for a CT Scan.  I was injected with contrast and another scan.  And then we waited…and waited and WAITED.

At 1:15 the doctor FINALLY returned with the news.  They found NOTHING.  Diagnosis?  Probable severe viral infection.  No meds – wait it out.

Now you would think that would be good news.  And I think it is, but I also feel like SUCH an idiot.  All that wasted time and all that money because I have a simple viral infection where the biggest risk is dehydration.

I am angry at myself and I feel like a big crybaby.  Come hell or high water it’s back to work tomorrow – I’ve got shit – no pun intended – to do.

And hopefully this will be my last post about my latest drama!!

A long strange trip…

Ok, not really, but where the hell have I been, right?

When I got approval to attend the conference I wanted to go to, I asked Marc if he wanted to go with me.  I told him that he would have to entertain himself while I was at the conference itself, but it would give him a couple of days away and I would have someone to keep me company on the long drive there and back.

His sister was awesome and agreed to watch the dogs while we were gone.  The conference didn’t start until Wednesday night but I took the whole day and we took our time getting down to the hotel.

We then relaxed and hung out.  I used to love going out of town to conferences because it was still a “work day” but I would sleep in and then arrive downstairs in the meeting room right at start time.  Instead on this trip, I got up even EARLIER then I normally do in order to get downstairs into the exercise room.

I repeat – who is this woman??

The exercise room had 3 treadmills.  I can’t imagine how much they cost because they were state of the art and running on one was like a DREAM!  Seriously – we have a pretty nice one, but it is TRASH compared to the deluxe one at the hotel!

Weirdly, the treadmills and ellipticals face the windows rather than the 2 tv’s that are in the room.  Marc said that while he was running on one later Thursday morning, a woman came out and was smoking and glaring at him through the window.  It provided some comic relief.

The conference was actually fantastic.  Relevant and I learned a lot, which doesn’t always happen at these things.  But it was ALL DAY.  They fed us lunch, but we worked through it.

I was spent by Thursday night.  Marc and I went to a local mall but didn’t spend an awful lot of time there before picking up something to eat at Walmart and heading back to the hotel to eat and watch TV.  We are PARTY ANIMALS, people!!!

Friday was another early morning and once again I was on the treadmill, but I only felt a little sorry for myself.

It was a half day but a lot of work, and I was grateful that Marc was with me to drive home so I could just relax on the drive.  I also wasn’t feeling very good, which I thought was due to overeating on this trip.

I was downright exhausted last night, but not as much as the dogs.  Marc went to get them and they came running in to greet me and then went to bed and didn’t make a PEEP the rest of the night!

Apparently Marc’s sister wore them out completely!

Last night I continued to deteriorate and felt totally sick most of the day today.  By evening I had a shooting pain in my abdomen that hurt bad enough that I went to Urgent Care fearing appendix or gallbladder issues.

I was issued an all clear on that front, but they still don’t know what it is.  Maybe a stomach bug?  That made me feel so stupid for going to see a doctor for a stomach bug??!!  You might think food poisoning?  But Marc is fine and I feel sick to my stomach but I haven’t puked.

So I am totally off right now, but I’m sure I will live.  I am not feeling like myself right now, though, and losing an hour tomorrow won’t help my state of mind as we “spring forward”.  I can only hope though that this SPRING forces Mother Nature to get the frigging hint!! 

I give it a 10!!

10 years!  That's how long Marc and I have been married as of today!

We met, as many of you know in 1989.  Our first official date was to see the movie Pet Semetary - romantic, huh?  We have been together – virtually inseparable – ever since.

When we got married we were met with dire predictions about how getting married would change our relationship.  I kinda believed it.  But it didn’t happen.

And then 5 years ago – without words – we embarked on a major life change together.  Even though it was a positive and healthy change, it could have destroyed us.  A complete change - both good and bad - often destroys marriages.

I think this is true for many reasons.  Some of it could be jealousy - I didn't exactly have tons of men checking me out when I was morbidly obese!  I'm still not exactly a looker but I do get more attention then in the past. And Marc is not upset or threatened at all by this like so many men I know.  He trusts me completely as I do him.

He is the most non-controlling, supportive husband I could ask for.  If I didn't know it before, it became evident by how he had to wait on me and care for me after my surgery!!

I think we have lasted so long due to doing this together.  I don't think I would be as committed to eating healthy or to exercise without having him right by my side.  And we support one another without judgment or criticisms.  In fact, I would say were are closer now then we have ever been!

We are certainly not a perfect couple, and what works for us wouldn't work for everyone. But the best part is being with someone who makes you happy and encourages you to grow as a person.

We are not together because it is easy or convenient like many other couples I know.  We stay together because neither of us can imagine life without the other person.  We are deeply and passionately in love with one another.

I am feeling very lucky today!

I'm not normal...

Those are the words that someone said to me today.  He relapsed after a relatively long period of sobriety.

He was in tears and told me that he tries SO HARD.  He said that he does well and even excells in acting "normal" - but underneath is that demon - that addiction - that is always there waiting for the slightest crack in his armor to POUNCE.

My heart ached for him.  And I told him "I get it!". And I really do.

So many people have commented to me that they are shocked when they hear it is hard for me or that I still have a fucked up relationship with food.

It's like they think that by learning to modify my behavior it made the root of the issue go away.  But just like a drug addict, this is a forever disease.  At least that's my opinion.  I am still a morbidly obese woman - I just don't behave that way if that makes any sense.

I told this person that he can never, ever let his guard down.  That he can never ever allow himself to believe that he's not a drug addict.  

I wonder if my weight gain is because I have forgotten this?  Maybe I've tried to fool myself that I am normal when I am NOT.

Something I will be thinking about...

A strange day…

My father died of a massive heart attack on a Sunday.  He was 3 months and 2 days shy of his 43rd birthday.

Today is Sunday.  I am 3 months and 2 days shy of my 43rd birthday.

The thought of this day has been renting space in my head for a long time – especially since turning 42.  I’m not sure why that is.  I haven’t been fearful that there is some kind of curse or that I would die today.  That’s not it.

After all, even with my really bad lifestyle in the past, I did make some good choices that didn’t put me in as high of a risk category.  I have never smoked and I don’t drink.  And certainly now with my exercise and healthier eating choices, I imagine my heart is in pretty good shape.

I knew, of course, at the time that 42 was extremely young to die of a heart attack.  But I was 18 then.  Being the same age today – when most days now I feel like I have a hell of a lot of living left to do – to think that his life was over at this time….

It’s a weird feeling that I can’t exactly put into words.  It’s one of those melancholy “what might have been?”

A friend suggested to me that today is not for mourning my father but instead celebrating my life and health.  Because I was certainly digging myself into an early grave.  Maybe I wouldn’t have died today, but my recent choices have without a doubt extended both the quality and quantity of my life.  (Barring being smushed by a passing car later today!!! )

So I ran this morning.  13 miles.  And I hugged my dogs.  And I told Marc that I love him.  And I told myself that I have overcome what was a mental hurdle for me.  It is now March 1st.  A time to think about rebirth.

That’s what I’m going to try focusing on.