2:35 am

I went to bed early (for me) tonight. I must have been fast asleep before 11. I woke up starving. My stomach was churning, so even though I had all my points for the day, I had a small snack.

Today I have my doctor appointment with the OBGYN. I had my original appointment on June 1st, and I must admit that due to cramping from that biopsy and plain old fear, I haven't done a whole heck of a lot in the past two and a half weeks.

The waiting is finally over. I hate not knowing what the future holds, and today I will find out. I think.

I did get my results from the mammogram today in the mail: NORMAL. Yay to that. For the longest time, I honestly believed that I would have the same ill health that my Mom had. I believed it was my destiny. I had a shift in thinking, telling myself that I didn't have to accept that fate. Heart disease, breast cancer, diabetes were the biggies she had, accompanied by a whole host of minor stuff. Hopefully I won't follow in her footsteps, I'm taking the steps to avoid all that. You just never know with health what is going to happen, though, even if you lead a healthful lifestyle.

Anyway, what's it going to be: hysterectomy or ablation. Or something else. As much as I would love to never have to face another period, or any more pain, I know a hysterectomy has a 6-week recovery period. I have had a myomectomy and a C-section. Same incision, same muscles cut, so I know physically that it is hell for the first two weeks. Yet, that just sounds so appealing to be done with everything once and for all. Only real cure for fibroids is a hysterectomy.

I hope I can get back to sleep. My stomach is no longer growling. I know it's not good to eat in the middle of the night.

I'm going to admit a deep, dark secret here: I'm scared. At least I will know. Knowledge is power.

I Lied!!!

I just got a phone call. It was my library, where I volunteer, and they asked if I would make treats for a special function they were having Thursday night.

I lied. I told her I'd be out of town Thursday night.

Now I will have to get in my car and drive 3 miles to the city limits, drive out of the city limits and then go home. That way it won't be a lie.

And yes, I will really do that because I don't like to lie.

When I volunteered, I did not check the baking box. Nope, because I didn't want to bake for the library. This is the third time they have called and asked me to do so. Grr.

I don't want to bake now. I sat with a plate of brownies 2 feet in front of me when I volunteered at the library book sale awhile back and did fine. I don't think I could handle a pan of bars or brownies baking in my house, though. The smell would get me. My recipes would get me. I can't do that. Yet.

Besides, Thursday is a busy day for me. I have my doctor appointment that day. I may or may not be emotional. I may have hubby take me to dinner. I just don't know what state of mind I will be in. The last thing I want to do is come home from the doctor and bake. Not therapeutic, not gonna happen.

So I'm a liar. I could have told her the truth, but sometimes that's just TMI. I am known to be a little verbose. So I will drive out of the city limits so it will not be a lie, because that is easier than telling the truth. But I guess now it is the truth because I do plan to go out of town Thursday night.

I'm warped.

And so it goes.

Weighing in Crazies

This post could have different titles:

1) Weigh-in Rituals

or

2) Why I Don't Attend Weight Watchers Meetings

Either title would apply to this post.

In 2002, I lost over 70 pounds by attending Weight Watchers. I quit, gained it all back plus a few, and here I am again. This time I chose Weight Watchers Online.

The weigh-in rituals were bad. I had some stinking thinking going on.

I live in a small town. We have one Weight Watchers meeting on Wednesday nights. No others to choose from, no Weight Watchers facility, just the lovely church basement where the meetings were had.

I loved our leader. That was because I knew her outside of Weight Watchers. She has a son a year younger than mine, and we were in Cub Scouts together. She was our Popcorn chairperson (an unenviable volunteer position) and did a fantastic job. I was a den leader. We saw each other a lot, and I always enjoyed her company. Her husband was really nice, too.

I started dreading meetings, though. She was the reason I went, but my thinking got ugly. I started in with those stupid weigh-in rituals. Our weigh-in time started at 6 pm. The meeting started at 6:30. Right off the bat, that is our supper time. No way would I eat *before* attending a meeting. By the time I got home, I was starving.

Wednesdays were very unhealthy for me. I would eat a normal breakfast and lunch, but refused to drink anything in the afternoon, let alone have a snack.

I would force myself to pee. I was obsessed with getting everything out of my body. The whole afternoon, I would go into the bathroom every so often and try to get rid of whatever I could get rid of.

When it was time to get ready to leave, I would change my clothes. I wore the thinnest, most light-weight yoga pants I could find and a light-weight shirt. Not smart, in Minnesota in the winter. I wore slip-on shoes with no socks. If people at the meeting noticed me, they would think I owned only one set of clothing.

When arriving at the meeting, I would go to the bathroom. Gotta get rid of every last drop.

I would stand in line and watch the women. (There were only two men there.) I wasn't the only one with rituals. These ladies would undress themselves as much as public decency would allow. They took off their jewelry, even their rings. The took off the shoes. Some would even take hair clips or pony tail holders out of their hair. They would do this while standing in line, which means the person next to them often got an elbow. Then many would be standing there holding all this stuff and suddenly realize they had to go to the bathroom. Their stuff would be on the floor holding their place in line.

I was lucky in that I could do that at home before I left the meeting, otherwise I would have been the same as them.

When I would finally arrive to the scale, I would be hoping and praying that the scale on the right would be the one I got. See, I had a preference. It made no difference that those scales were put up after each meeting, and the odds were that I had weighed on both many times, I simply HAD to go to the scale on the right. If I was unlucky enough to have the scale on the left, I was really upset. Seriously!

When I started out, I kept my shoes on. I figured I'd have a bad week somewhere along the line and need to slip the shoes off for an added boost some week. Yes, that happened, and I became another who would take her shoes off.

The second I stepped on the scale, I would exhale--have to get all that extra stuff like air out of the lungs for the weigh-in.

As JackSh*t posted, I would also get haircuts on Wednesdays because, you know, a half-inch hair trim makes all the difference in the world. Oh, and I would clip my nails on Wednesday afternoons, too--fingers and toes.

I was absolutely obsessed with the weigh-in rituals.

It was insane.

The minute I got home, I was famished. Oh, let me set myself up for a binge here with this crazy thinking and the crazy rituals. I didn't actually binge ever, but I was in crazy "I need to eat NOW" mode.

Many of the women at the meeting would sit down and eat a WW 2-point bar after weigh-in. I suspect I wasn't the only one who had chosen not to eat on Wednesday afternoons.

I was one who paid as I went. I got smart and started going to meetings every other week, which would guarantee a loss-a bigger loss. Even when I did that, I still did the stupid weigh-in rituals.

NONE OF THAT WAS HEALTHY. It was bad physically and emotionally.

That is why I do not attend meetings this time. I know I would fall into that stupid trap again.

Now, I weigh myself every morning. My official weigh-in day is Monday, but I like to weigh daily as it keeps me on track.

Gone are the stupid rituals. Now my Monday-morning ritual is this: Wake up, go potty, strip down to my birthday suit, hop on the scale. Done. Some Mondays I wait a bit to see if, well, you know, if I could get rid of something else. Because something else is weight, you know. This morning I waited a half hour, but didn't have that, um, constitutional. That's about as crazy as my weigh-ins are now.

I was laughing at myself this morning. Not long after I weighed in and logged my info in on the computer, I had my morning constitutional. I was down another half pound. Damn! Had I only waited. I laughed because I knew better. I'm not going into that stupid thinking anymore. It is what it is. If I am truly down another half pound (which I believe I am, because Saturday and Sunday I had the same weight as my post-constitutional weigh in this morning) it will just have to wait to be recorded until next week.

While I would like to visit with Patty, my lovely Weight Watchers leader that I no longer see because our boys are done with Cub Scouts, I choose to put my health first. I am not going to get into that stupid thinking pattern any more. If I went to a meeting, that stinking thinking would be back in a heartbeat. So I choose to set myself up for health instead.

~~~
The toilet monster is a funny little joke my son played on me a few years ago. He knows Mom heads straight for the bathroom first thing every morning, and he thought he was clever. He was, it was funny, even though I almost peed my pants ripping the monster off and out of the way. He snapped the photo himself. =)

Monday Morning Weigh-In

253

-1 pound!

Yay, I am so tired of those .5 losses!

29.5 total loss

I really didn't eat my emotions! =)

Weekend Review

I needed a break. I have never gone this long without blogging!

Friday night: I had a cry from the bottom of my soul. I cried for a couple hours. I so needed to do that. The thoughts popping in my mind as I just let everything out consisted of more than I realized I was upset about. I cried for my Dad, I cried for the loss of family that his death brought. I cried over my son's diagnosis of epilepsy. I cried over my old dog that died a year and a half ago. I cried over my uterus that has given me grief my whole life after puberty. I cried because my husband just didn't understand (and darned tootin' I set him straight) that I was scared. I cried because I was sick of pain. There's more, but those are the biggies.

Saturday? I felt human again. I cannot believe what that did to restore me. Our town was having its summer festival. We went. I was in a lot of pain so the boys would go off and do things. It was so nice sitting in the sun, though. That night we went to the parade. I love a parade. I love that there is a 3M plant where we live and every year they give out awesome things from their float. I got six sponges and two stick-it notepads this year. Cool. I like that as much as kids like candy. My son got 3 pounds of candy. I weighed the bag on the scale. 3 pounds--wow. It was mostly Tootsie Rolls, so I know his dad will help him eat it. I'm glad I don't like Tootsie Rolls.

I have decided to not exercise formally until after I speak with the doctor. It was just too painful, and when there's something wrong, I think it's best to let it be. I did do a lot of walking Saturday, but rested when I needed to. It wasn't sustained like regular exercise.

I feel renewed. YAY

I have not read blogs for awhile--I've skimmed a few, but I just didn't have anything to give to anyone. I love to read and give comments, but I just needed to hibernate, become the recluse I am. So once again, I'm very behind.

I am in a better place now, back where I belong.

One NSV I had this weekend: We went to Subway for lunch. I think this was the first time ever that I got a 6 inch and not a foot long. And even though I could have eaten a foot long, I was satisfied with the 6 inch. Wow. My foot only swelled a little from that, which is another NSV.

I think I had a breakthrough. I talk about not eating my feelings, but I think I really experienced that this weekend. I mean I haven't been eating the feelings, but i hadn't really been feeling the emotions in depth, fully. Friday when I cried, I did. Wow.

Two steps forward.

Menu Planning Week 18

1-Crockpot Cheeseburgers (Always on the menu!), Salad, Baked Fries
2-Baked Ziti, Salad, Bread
3-Cola Chicken, Brown Rice, Salad
4-Steamed Chicken, Noodles, Salad
5-Nachos: refried bean, sour cream, ground beef, baked tostitos, small portion of nacho cheese, salsa...i just weigh and count what I want
6- Steak, Twice Baked Potatoes, salad
7-Burgers, Baked Fries, Salad

(In no particular order!)

Richard Simmons Caused Me Great Pain

Before I go off again about pain, may I just say thank you for all the support. It means the world to me.

This morning I woke up with the least amount of pain for three days. YAY! I decided to work out. That was a learning experience.

I can't do Richard Simmons workouts right now. Too much twisting. When you have an inflamed internal organ, you just can't twist. Even the leg lifts hurt, and the mild bending. I did the entire tape, but I modified painful movements. I still broke a good sweat, got my heart rate up, but it wasn't fun because I couldn't do what I normally can.

So, my plan of action is to watch my Walk Away the Pounds tape later and see if that will cause me pain. I don't think it's going to work for me right now. Then I might take a walk around the block, and see how that does.

Any other suggestions are welcomed. How does one get exercise when body movement causes pain? I hate looking at my exercise calendar. I was so proud of what I had accomplished. The lack of workouts depresses me as much as the pain I'm experiencing.

There has to be some way to get the blood flowing, the heart pumping, the oxygen circulating without upsetting my viscera. I do believe this pain is not just the uterus, but the bowels, and whatever else is down and around the area. Basically the entire area under my belly button is inflamed.

This morning I was at a pain level of about .5-1 which was wonderful. Now I'm about a 3. I took some Motrin, which should help soon. That just can't be good for my body.

Sigh.

Where there's a will, there's a way. My body may be telling me I need to rest, yet it's only one area. There's got to be something else I can do. I hate stagnating.