Week 3 - Day 3

The gym went well yesterday, although I am still not getting in as much cardio as perhaps I should. My legs were killing me from Monday, so I'm not going to worry too much about it. It feels like most of October has been incredibly stressful and I am looking forward to my program changing next week as well as something of a reprieve between then and Thanksgiving.

We did arms and I felt so weak, but I worked to failure and I went up on weight in everything except the preacher curl which is the bane of my existence. I guess muscle failure is the only kind of failure that I can cope with.

Food was awful yesterday. I noticed that I'm not as hungry as I think I am. I have become so used to packing away food that I think I'm overstuffing myself. I had a protein shake for breakfast, which was a good choice, but then it was downhill from there. We did Cici's for lunch (4 slices and 2 of dessert pizza, plus root beer) and Panda Express for dinner. I realized at Panda Express that 2 entrees and a side is way too much food. I need to do the bowl from now on, but I like to try new things, so that's why I want 2. My curiosity is what gets the better of me. Still, one entree and one side is more than enough, I now know. I threw some of my dinner in the trash because I was so full.

On the bright side, there was no snacking yesterday. I did think about making myself throw up after dinner, but I didn't do it. I also had a cupcake . . . Ugh.

I am so tired of hating myself. I liked it a lot better when I was taking a pill that made me not care about food. But I also think that not taking pills is a better choice in the long run.

I wish I had written about it yesterday - I was having some kind of thought about skinny people. Maybe jealousy that some people can seem to eat whatever they want with minimal consequences and here I am. I know there are skinny people who live off garbage all day every day. And they don't exercise. I know it catches up with them, but it's still annoying.

I will be so happy when I get a crock pot and no longer have any excuse for eating out all the time. At least by Saturday morning my kitchen will be clean. So there's that.

I feel like I'm being really whiny. It's no one else's fault that I have no self control. :-( I have no one to blame but myself. I guess I can feel good about the fact that I am getting stronger, even if I'm not getting skinnier.

Week 3 - Day 2

Yesterday was That Sprout's birthday, so I forewent the gym in order to buy supplies for her party. I didn't want to take her to the store with me, you know? I had hoped to get to the gym in the afternoon, but since j^C was only going to get to come home for a little while to have dinner with us, I decided I had better be at home when he got off. We spent a lot of time outside playing which was nice because it tired her out. The weather was perfect. If everyday was like yesterday, I would go outside more.

Not that it began that way. On the way to pick up the cupcakes for That Sprout's school it was pouring. I could hardly see the road. I'm so glad that it cleared up.

I had an orange cranberry bagel for breakfast, a #1 from McDonald's for lunch, and a 2 entree plate (Black Pepper Chicken and Teriyaki Chicken with brown rice and mixed veggies) for dinner. And a cupcake. And a Coke Zero. And a Diet Dr. Pepper. I wanted to throw up the McDonald's. I should have had a salad. Or not eaten the fries. Ugh. I was also super dehydrated by the end of the day. I have got to start making better decisions. I wouldn't call yesterday a binge, but it was a certainly a day full of bad choices.

But you know what? It was fun and I think That Sprout had a really great day. So there's that.

Week 3 - Day 1

I ate leftover pizza and wings for breakfast yesterday morning and that was a very bad idea. But we will get to that in a minute.

That Sprout and j^C were not yet back from SC so I was able to get to the gym early and put in about 20 minutes of cardio. That's the most I've done since last week, and I've noticed that I don't feel like I am improving on my time, but I can go faster than I used to for longer and I can recover quicker. Maybe I'm just not pushing myself. I think I'm just tired all the time and still recovering from the plague. I hope the cardio starts to improve soon.

As for the weights, I went up in everything this week. We were doing legs and I lifted to failure on several of the exercises. I wanted to cry once, but I did not. (Note: I can handle this kind of failure.) Mostly, I wanted to throw up because pizza and wings are a lousy breakfast. I tried to throw up after my workout, but I just gagged a little and felt sort of better. Then I had a protein shake which also kind of helped.

I don't remember a lot about Monday. I cleaned the house and felt sort of like eating ALL THE THINGS, but it wasn't as bad as Sunday. I didn't get as much cleaning done as I wanted to, but what are you going to do, right?

I had chicken soup and crackers for dinner.

Week 2 - Day 7

We went to breakfast yesterday morning at a place called Lindy's. It looked as if it had been around since the 50's. A drive in type place. I had a corned beef omelet that turned out to be a bunch of stuff scrambled into some eggs. It was okay, but not really what I would call an omelet. Also, grits and a biscuit. And Dr. Pepper.

After breakfast, j^C went to SC to retrieve That Sprout and I went shopping at Kroger. I finally found yahrzeit candles and I bought some Rugehlech. When I got home, I started eating the Rugehlech and watched Peaky Blinders. I feel like all I did yesterday was eat. Very bingy. At one point I thought about making myself throw up.

But then I order pizza and wings. Because that makes sense.

I have gotten to the point where when I eat anything I feel guilty about it. Like I shouldn't have eaten it. This is no way to get along, is it? It's very frustrating. I think about throwing up quite a bit. I don't like it. I'd like to think that if I were to make good choices, this feeling would go away, but then I keep making bad choices, so I have no idea. Also, it seems like I'm not allowing myself to have any slip ups or any . . . decadence? Even really healthy people eat unhealthy food sometimes. It's just that I don't feel like I get to have my sometimes.

I wonder if I'm trading one type of eating disorder for another.

Week 2 - Day 6

Did not get to the gym yesterday.

I have been feeling like I want to eat less physically, but I have been wanting to eat MORE in my brain. We had lunch at the El Salvadoran restaurant and I had 2 pupusas and we split some plantains. I could have done with one pupusa. I should start ordering less food.

I was so tired all day. I thought I would go home and watch a little tv and get to work on the house. I did not. I slugged out on the couch and wound up passing out and going to bed early. I can't believe I fell asleep in the middle of Shadow of the Vampire.

I had soup for dinner, which was very good and did not leave me feeling like I had binged, so that's good.

Week 2 - Day 5

Yesterday was a very emotional day tacked on to the end of a very emotional week. I woke up hacking up a lung - a great start to any day. I coughed so much that I started gagging and threw up. Or at least dry heaved. Because of this, I did not eat breakfast before I left. I was feeling lousy after the spouses coffee anyway, and when I got to school I committed a faux pas by handing out That Sprout's birthday party invitations to only the girls. I know better than to do this, but how am I supposed to mail them when no one fucking talks to me? I wish I had not invited the whole class in the first place. I am really hoping that they don't show up. Meanwhile, Miss Amy let me know that in the future my method would not be acceptable, and I walked back to my car fighting back tears. A wonderful state to be in on my way to the gym.

At the gym it was shoulder day. I didn't do any cardio because of my coughing fit, so after a short warm up, we dove right in. It wasn't long before I was crying. I already felt like I had made a mistake that morning with the invitations. I don't feel well. And now I was having difficulty with my workout. Because it's hard. And I was still thinking about the night before, where I realized that as an Army spouse, I am a non-entity. Needless to say, there were a lot of emotions racing through my head during my workout.

I don't even have anything bad to say about the trainer. She offered me the same cliche and hollow platitudes that anyone else would have "You just need to stop caring. Fuck em."

. . . Which is a great sentiment if it were not for the fact that I am already trying to do that. But I crave approval SO MUCH that it's not that easy. But Lou Reed is my ersatz father figure and HE figured out how to do it (and if you don't think that he did, I invite you to listen to Metal Machine Music). I need to make my own Metal Machine Music, build a bridge, and get the fuck over all of this.

However, that's easier said than done.

I'm realizing that I will not allow myself to fail and when I do fail, or make a mistake, I don't view it as a learning opportunity. It's something that I cannot cope with. It is a moral failing. I don't like it's safe for me to fail. I don't feel like I am allowed to. It's a crushing feeling. I don't like it. It makes it very hard to feel good about myself and not care about what other people think. I'm sure that other people's opinions of me are far less harsh than my opinion of myself. It's really hard to feel good and to not care what other people think when what you think is the most damning opinion of them all.

In other news, after being very miserable for the rest of the day, I wound up at the beer and wine store on Raeford Rd and met a person who seemed to be about my age who was on the same page as me. She was reading the "The Life and Death of Bunny Monroe" by Nick Cave. Her name is Kasmin and I hope that I will see her again and that we can be friends. It's like God heard my plaintive cry for someone I could relate to. And after the terrible night at the spouses' coffee I was beginning to feel like there was no one in this whole town I could deal with.

So, thank heaven for small favors.

Week 2 - Day 4

I did not go to the gym yesterday. I spent my morning at a very neat upscale consignment store looking for something to wear the the General's house last night. It was a 2 hour process, but I came away with 2 very nice outfits. I wore a black pencil skirt and a purple blouse to the coffee event, with my pewter ruffle shoes. The other outfit was a black and pink zigzag striped maxi dress with a black bodice. Very stylish.

I spent the rest of the day getting ready. I over-plucked my eyebrows . . . and I made the mistake of trying to get dinner before I took a shower and got dressed and wound up being almost late. I had to park very far away, so I had to walk in those heels for what felt like miles. By the time I got to the front door I was sweaty and my feet were killing me. I think I didn't sit down once the whole night.

I didn't really get to talk to Ashton, but I did get her number and we are supposed to take That Sprout for tea next week on her birthday, so that will be fun. I wish I had been able to talk to her, but she is a lot more gregarious than I am. I was very overwhelmed by all the people and I quickly realized that the event was not what it was advertised. I thought we would be networking and getting to know one another. Nay Nay.

"What does your husband do?"
"What was his MOS before?"
"Where were you stationed before?"
"Do you have an children?"
"What made him want to join Civil Affairs?"

And on and on and on about our husbands. I spent at least 30 minutes yesterday afternoon writing some notes about what to talk about if I was asked questions about myself. Where I went to school, where I was from. What my interests are. My hopes and dreams. All worded so as not to give too much information but to show who I am. Just like Emily Post and Michael Jasek taught me. No one even asked. The most that came up was that I am from Crescent City. I feel sort of conceited to be so complainy about "What about ME?" but really, I don't know or care about what my husband does. It's nothing to me. If we're supposed to be making friends and forming a support network isn't it more important to figure out who we all are as individuals rather than as extensions of our spouses.

Apparently not.

And then there was the "Protocol Presentation" that seemed to go on FOR-EV-ER. First of all, I didn't really learn anything I didn't already know. Secondly, I was galled that there is apparently this expectation that I'm supposed to be Martha Stewart. It's not that I don't want to be Martha Stewart - it's the expectation. If I were to try to do some kind of fancy party and no one was expecting it of me I could feel free to do it my way, and if I didn't do it perfectly it would be okay because no one would know any different. But if there are these expectations already in place, suddenly this thing that I want to do feels like a competition. Everyone will be expecting things of me. They will know if I don't do it right. They will know that I don't have a full place setting. They will know that I don't know what I am doing. I will be exposed as a fraud.

The General's wife was nice enough, but I came away feeling like an outsider anyway. I don't want to just be an accessory to my husband's career. I want to be known and appreciated for something I did on my own.

Also, on a weight loss note: I felt very self-conscious about my weight, but thankfully I felt confident in my outfit, so it wasn't so bad. I wish I looked like everyone else. It would be one less thing to worry about.

Oh, and one more thing: There was a woman there and her husband was a higher ranking officer. A Major maybe? She was talking about how you have to go to all these events and you have to wear a different outfit to each one. I said half jokingly that I would buy one dress and wear it to every event of the season. She's all like "Uh, no. That's the exact opposite of what you want to do." Very snippy. I was thinking "Lady, the Army is not buying me all these new dresses. Just because you said that, watch me do it. Try me. I dare someone to say something."

This is why I didn't make the cheerleading squad. This shit right here.

Week 2 - Day 3

Yesterday morning was arms where I learned that I had been doing several of the exercises wrong. Preacher curls are no joke. I think I cried a little. I was feeling over-wrought, knowing that this Army wife coffee thing was on the horizon. I don't really remember a lot of what happened at the gym, because of what came after.

When I picked up That Sprout from school, I took her to McDonald's for lunch. On the way out I checked my email on my phone and saw that I got an email from the Army lady about the coffee. There was all this talk about "protocol" and how to dress and act and I realized that I had been duped. I had no idea that this was the sort of thing that one needed to brush up on one's Emily Post for.

So I had a mini panic attack and called my point of contact. She did not assuage my fears. I realized that I would need to go shopping for something to wear. I realized that I was woefully out of my depth. I was very stressed.

I talked to Mojo JoJo for a little while and he said that I shouldn't be worried and that this event was basically putting on airs. I felt a little better and we decided that I would try to find something in my closet that would be appropriate to wear. Long story short, I went to get my nails done, I picked out a nice outfit, and later I cried because I felt fat in said outfit and I was terrified of going to the coffee.

On an unrelated note: I learned today that my body fat was 44%. I looked up what a woman's body fat should be to average. It's 25-30%. Mathmatically speaking, that means that if I were to weigh 176-192 I would be an average healthy weight and percentage of body fat. I'm not buying it. I think that I want to go get a real percent body fat test. The kind in water. They do it in Wilmington for the low low price of $50. Maybe after the new year?

Week 2 - Day 2

I went to the gym at 9:30 last night. I the gym closed at 11, which would have given me plenty of time. It did not. It closed at 10. I rushed through my workout, thinking that I would do cardio at the gym when I got back to the apartment. It was a shoulder workout, and all through it I felt really good. I went pretty fast, but I added weight, so that's good. I felt like I was awesome.

Then I left. And I hacked up a lung while standing next to my car. I gagged. I threw up a little. I peed a little. It was scary. Also, my back tensed up almost immediately after I did the hyper-extensions, so I bet I'll be feeling that later.

I am unsure as to whether or not I did an effective workout. It all felt too easy. Was I over confident? Was I doing the exercises wrong? Did I somehow over do it? No idea.

Now, why did I go to the gym so late?

I spent my morning at a pumpkin patch with That Sprout who couldn't have cared less that I was there. This was annoying as I could have been at the gym or working on my book in a week. But no. I was sitting on some hay in a wagon all by myself while That Sprout was glued to her teacher. I'm not bitter . . .

Some thoughts:

• There are not enough hours in the day. I have too much to do and with this child only in school 3 hours a day, not enough time to do it. :-(
• I feel like my hips look less wide. Could be my imagination, but that means I am feeling better about myself, right?
• I am going to do the bottle of lotion challenge, focusing on my arms.
• I have been so hungry lately, but I don't want to eat. Should I be worried?
• Weights are a lot more fun now that I have figured out how to use the I-pod while working out.

Week 2 - Day 1

Yesterday was legs. I increased weight on several of the exercises and yet I felt horrible. I was still sick and very tired. Before it was all over, I was crying  a little, mostly because I felt weak and lousy and angry at myself for being weak and lousy. I had to stop, breathe, and tell myself more than once "you are not weak, you are sick and you are tired. You are not weak."

I wonder if part of the problem had to do with the fact that I only had a protein shake for breakfast. I was hungry but I did not want to eat. Because I was still sick, I guess. Also, I only did 15 minutes of cardio. I am going to be happy with that. Because I am still sick.

Also, I am 237 as of today, so that's good. I am not eating great, but I'm not overeating either. I need to get back to taking photos of what I am eating. Baby steps.

Blah. 

Week 1 - Day 7

I ate queso and chips.
I ate pizza.
I ate ice cream.
I ate Twizzlers.
I watched The Boxtrolls.
I coughed a lot.
I drank a lot of water.
I did not work out.
I cuddled my sprout.
I spent time with my husband.
I did not hate myself.
I did not gain.
It was a good day.

Week 1 - Day 6

Yesterday we got up early and went to the Autumn Fest in Pinehurst, NC with a couple CPT Snicklefritz knows from his school. John and Ashton are both lawyers and they are both beautiful. I kind of hate them, but they are just so nice, it's hard to really hate them. Thankfully, John has a small gap between his two front teeth which is the one thing I can't get over in someone looks wise, so I'm not in love with him. Despite his fabulous jet black hair, pale skin, and very smart tattoos.

Anyway, we spent a very nice morning with them in spite of the fact that I was intermittently hacking up a lung. I felt terrible by the time we left, but I am happy to report that I did not succumb to fair food. I had a small Italian Ice for my throat and then waited to have lunch at a local restaurant. It was BBQ Brisket sandwich with sweet potatoes and cole slaw. And it was awful. But I didn't eat other things, so that's good. The restaurant was terrible too, for the record.

After the disappointing lunch, we went back to the festival so that That Sprout could play at the park. I spent a lot of time looking at all the beautiful people, having fun together while I sat there with CPT Snicklefritz feeling like I was all by myself. I was feeling very sick at this point, so I am not going to beat myself up too much about the fact that I started crying on the way back to the car. I said something about "Even Antonin Scalia is friends with Ruth Bader Ginsberg. They rode on an elephant together."

It probably did not help anything that I was feeling very frumpy, very ugly, and very fat. We ran into a couple of other people CPT Snicklefritz's class who had run the 5K with their girlfriends. Who were skinny and in shape. I am pretty sure that these people probably aren't judging me, but I feel like they are. This is probably just me judging myself.

On a bright note, when I am all by myself I feel a little better about the way my body looks. I think I can already see some changes. This is likely a result of being proud of my accomplishments at the gym, but feeling good is feeling good.

And I think I've lost about 4 pounds. So there's that.

Week 1 - Day 5

I recovered enough to make it to the gym on Friday. God Bless Vitamin C and Cold-Eeze.

We did shoulders, and I really pushed myself. I have noticed that I neither look at myself in the mirror or the trainer while I am working out. I focus on something - anything else.

The workout was fine, although since I was still sick I did not do any cardio. I plan to finish up over the weekend.

The only other thing of note was that when I was finished with my workout we got to talking about how I hadn't met anyone yet and I wound up crying because I miss my old friends. 

I am very tired of the twee responses I have heard about my lack of society. It's so hard to explain to someone why I have such a hard time. I don't just want shallow friends. I was to have relationships with people. I want to feel like I am a part of something. 

I was reading George Carlin and he said something about groups and why you should be an individual instead of part of a group. Well, I guess Uncle George will just have to be very disappointed in me. All I want - all I have ever wanted - is to be a part of something. I find it very lonely being apart. 

:-(

Week 1 - Day 4

I caught the plague from That Sprout. I did not exercise today, which is bad because I needed to do legs and cardio.

Hack.
Cough.
Death.

Week 1 - Day 3

I saw the trainer again yesterday, and I feel like I approached the situation with an improved attitude. I also ran farther than I have yet (0.36 @ 4.0. mph) so maybe that contributed to my mood. I was also very interested in being efficient as That Sprout was in the daycare at the gym and I didn't want to leave her there for too long. She cried when I left. Little did I know that she would cry when I came to take her home too. Transitions are not her strong suit.

During my workout, I learned that hyper-extensions seem easy to begin with, but by the end, they are no joke. I did not want to cry at all, so that's good. I also have a very hard time making eye contact with my trainer. This is similar to my relationship with certain other women in my life. I wonder if a male trainer would have been better? I guess having female forces me to work on my woman hating though.

I didn't do any cardio because after the hyper-extensions I could not. I was done. Trainer said that I only had to do it one more time this week, so I have a few more days to knock it out.

Late in the afternoon I had something of a carb binge. That Sprout finally mustered up and appetite and she wanted pancakes. I had more than one. Then I decided that I was going to try making star shaped French Toast. And then I ate all of that too. I refuse to be too upset by all this though because I did not eat dinner. I choose to believe that the calories worked out.

Now, for something that I have been thinking about a lot as of late: I need a good playlist for my cardio. Here is what I have been considering:

• Nine Inch Nails - Head Like a Hole
• Matchbox 20 - How Far We've Come
• Backstreet Boys - Larger than Life
• Harvey Danger - Flagpole Sitta
• Kid Rock - Bawitdaba
• Duran Duran - Rio
• Motion City Soundtrack - Everything is Alright
• My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade
• Duran Duran - Planet Earth
• My Chemical Romance - I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
• Nelly - Batter Up

Week 1 - Day 2

That Sprout woke up with a fever yesterday morning and as such, was unable to go to school. I didn't want to take her to the gym with me and risk her being "Patient Zero" for some kind of outbreak, so I didn't make it to the gym until about 5:30 last night.

I had been afraid that the place would be packed, but I was pleasantly surprised. It was no more populated than usual. I did 30 minutes of cardio (17 minute mile on the treadmill and 15 minutes on the bike). Then I did my workout for the day. Arms, specifically triceps. Mine are weak. The exercises sucked, but I did them.

I had two thoughts during/after my workout.

1. A year is a long time. A lot of change can happen in a year. I could be someone I don't even recognize a year from now. And that would be pretty cool.

2. I have long entertained the fantasy that "when I get to where I need to be" I can "maintain" by running and doing yoga. This fantasy works under the assumption that underneath all my bad habits there is a manic pixie dream girl who loves to run and do yoga. This notion is part of a larger fantasy about "who I want to be." But the problem is this: I can want to be a tiny thing like Christina Ricci or Thora Birch, but wanting it ain't gonna make it happen. I will probably have to continue a rigorous training program for the rest of my life. Now, maybe that means that I get serious about some yoga and running. I don't know. But the idea that I can hold a pose and eat bon-bons at the same time - that shit doesn't happen in real life.

I don't like who I am. I want to be someone else. Maybe that's what I'm hiding from under here.

Week 1 - Day 1

I have no idea how to add a photo from Instagram. Rest assured that there is a photo and that it is on Instagram.

Yesterday was my very first actual workout with the trainer. I did not cry. There were a few moments when I wanted to. There were are few more moments when I wanted to pass out. But for the most part, my jaw was set and my head was down. I was there to get it done and I was not going to wimp out. Every time she asked if I wanted to try more weight, I said "Yes." This was not because I was wearing my ovaries on the outside, but because I wanted to keep challenging myself. Also, because I think she was trying to go easy on me to gauge where I was. I wanted to be sore today though, and I achieved that goal.

My treadmill is the one farthest from where this photo was taken.

In addition to my work with the trainer, I ran 0.35 miles at a 4.0 mph pace. This is the farthest I have run continuously since 2007. Aside from that, the only thing that was remarkable was that while I was doing these walking squats (which SUCKED!) I caught sight of this woman who was working out in the gym and minding her own business. She was much thinner than me and she was lifting weights and when I started to really hurt from the squats I heard a voice hissing in my head "I hate you."

BUT! I immediately checked myself. I said, "You don't hate her. It's not her fault you are in pain. You don't hate Captain Tesla and you don't hate HeyBates for being in shape. You admire and respect them. And you can get there to." And then the squats were over and I didn't think about the woman for the rest of my time at the gym, which was substantial as the squats were the first thing I did.

I am in this to win.

The Vinaigrette

Here is a recipe for the dip/vinaigrette I have been using lately. It is easy, healthy, and SO GOOD.

White Bean Vinaigrette 

1 can Cannelloni Beans
Fresh Basil
Balsamic Vinegar
Salt
Pepper
Olive Oil

 Drain beans and reserve the liquid. Place beans, salt, pepper, basil (use as much or as little as you would like - I like a lot!), and balsamic vinegar (same as basil - I like a lot!) in blender, food processor, or magic bullet. Blend until smooth. If too thick, add liquid from beans or olive oil. For dip, you want it thicker, for salad dressing, thinner. Don't use too much olive oil.

See? Easy. And so good you could drink the stuff.

This morning is my first real workout with the trainer. I have not decided if going to the gym at my apartment and running at 5 am is a good idea or not. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess.

The Trainer

I'm back. Just like South Park. Not that I would know anything about that. I digress.

At this time last year, I was 215 lbs and I felt really good about my weight loss. Then the holidays happened and I never recovered. I am now 240 lbs. I have decided that meaningful weight loss will not happen for me without some help. I considered weight loss surgery and medical weight loss options, but these things are not covered by my insurance and out of pocket they are very expensive.

So, I have chosen to use all of my monthly allowance to employ a personal trainer. Yesterday was my initial visit with her. I thought that I was going into the gym with a good attitude. I am here to make changes. I am enthusiastic. I refuse to whine about the whole thing like the contestants on a certain weight loss reality show.

But I am a self-deprecating person. And I am averse to insincerity. I am not going to act positive if what I am really feeling is anything but. That's part of what got me here in the first place.

No, I'm not upset about my dad dying at all. I got over it a long time ago. Before it happened. I'm fine. Really. I'm just going to go make out with my much older boyfriend after I eat these 5 Little Debbie cakes. kthxbai
Because that approach worked so well. I think it's better to feel what I am feeling when I am feeling it and to work through it in the best way I can. So, when she asked me "Are you nervous about getting measured?" I said, "No, I am well aware of the problem." She asked me what problem and I motioned to my body. This resulted in a lecture on how she does not tolerate negativity. Fine. But just because we are not calling my obesity a problem doesn't make it any less of one.

Then there was the fitness test, which in hindsight I think I did admirably on. But in the moment, when my muscles were hurting and my heart was pumping, I felt like the biggest failure in the world. I hated myself for being in pain after such a seemingly easy task. At which point I cried. And she wanted to talk. And how do you even begin to explain to someone you just met

Look, I hate myself for a number of reasons, many of which have nothing to do with my body. I hate myself for being easy when I shouldn't have been. I hate myself for looking for love in all the wrong places. I hate myself for stopping every time something got hard. I hate myself for trying to eat away my problems, but I'm sorry, at least food doesn't talk back. I hate myself for not knowing how to achieve this on my own and for letting things get so out of hand in the first place. Then there's all this deep seated psychological stuff that makes me so afraid to fail that I am afraid to even try. And, also, daddy issues.

?

You don't. So I just motioned to my head and said that it was self talk. Or something. I don't know. If I talk when I'm crying it just gets worse. This is not a good thing when it comes to communication. This whole discourse resulted in her putting a kabash on crying. Not helpful. But I don't guess I can be too mad. I am basically paying her to tell me these things. I think that it would be more helpful to just get it out though.

Then there was the epiphany of the day. It's really hard to explain how I got there, but I'm guessing that through garden path of my brain I got from "too fat to be sexy" to "your need to be sexy comes from your daddy issues" to "Duran Duran will never love you because you are fat." Which is a really irrational thought, but what is mental illness, if not one irrational thought after another?

But thankfully, I read an article the other day that talked about Simon LeBon's daughters being overweight. And I already knew that Nick Rhodes' daughter was less than willowy. And then it came to me: FATHERS DO NOT WANT TO FUCK THEIR DAUGHTERS. When I had that realization, I just wanted to scream it over and over. It was very motivating. (I did not, because I do not care to look like a crazy person.)

Simon and Nick love their daughters no matter what size they are. A father's love should be unconditional. It should not matter to a father whether or not his daughter is sexually desirable. Therefore, being found sexually desirable by men (husband or otherwise) does not equate to the love and acceptance I crave. And Duran Duran would love me, if they knew me. I am lovable.

And even as I wrote that, I kind of wanted to cry. It's hard for me to believe that I am lovable. I don't understand lovable. I only understand fuckable. Which I know that I also am not. Meanwhile, apparently my ersatz father figures are now Simon LeBon and Nick Rhodes. One could do worse. And Lou Reed. Always, always, always.

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