Friday, September 30, 2005

Here's hoping

*** Warning: possible trigger ***

I've been gone for a while, but that's not the whole reason I haven't posted. I'm a monster procrastinator, especially when it comes to disclosure and authenticity. I wanted/intended to put this post off till *after* this weekend, when I'll be seeing people who may well read this before I see them next. I'm such a freakin' scaredy-cat. But not a total one, 'cause here I go!

As of the end of August/beginning of September, I started doing Weight Watchers - the Core plan. This is my first serious attempt to lose weight in several years, and my first REAL attempt to deal with food in a healthy way in over a decade. The beauty of the Core plan is that they have a list of foods I can eat without measuring. A BIG list. I also get 35 "free" points each week to spend however I want on food, and I can earn more by exercising. This is perfect for me because I can NOT control my eating. I have no "Off" button. I don't have the discipline to do Flex - I'm too lazy and impulsive to weigh and journal everything that goes into my mouth, and I can't do portion control.

I'm bulimic and have been for 12 years. Once I start eating, I have a hard time stopping. It's so hard to explain what goes on in my head when I eat, but what follows is the best approximation I can give. In the past (and still in the present sometimes), whenever I ate *anything* my mind immediately told me "that will make you fat", so I knew I had to purge to get rid of the fattening food. And since I *already* had to purge, I might as well make it "worth the effort," so I'd pig out and maximize the binge. I didn't start out this way, and never intended to get to this point. I don't think anyone does.

Core works for me because it's a *proven* weight-loss plan, and there are tons of foods on the list that I like. I can eat till I feel full, and if my mind tries to go to the negative "fat" thoughts, there's a rational and real way to deal with them. The foods I'm eating *won't* make me fat, since so many people have lost weight and kept it off by using this plan. If I eat a big bunch of grapes, or 2 pieces of chicken, it's ok because they're on the list of foods I don't have to measure. I can silence that first negative voice/impulse. I can stop the binge before it really starts, which makes it that much easier to talk myself out of purging. Because I DO still have to talk myself out of it. It isn't something that can just be switched off, though I wish it were. But with Core, logic trumps the irrational unhealthy thinking and urges, and it's a HUGE weight off my mind.

I'm by no means abstinent yet, but just having the daily impulse removed is SUCH a huge relief, I can't even begin to describe it. I have the control I entered into my ED looking for, and I feel like I might get a handle on my ED. I honestly didn't think that would ever happen. For the first time in YEARS, I feel like I might actually be able to get the bulimia under control, and that is an amazing feeling. I wish I had done this sooner.

Aside from all that (which is wonderful beyond belief) I've lost 6 pounds that I don't ever intend to gain back. I need to get a good digital scale so I can keep better track of my weight, and be able to track the small losses and gains better. But 6 pounds! That's 12 sticks of butter! And that, my friends, is a great start to healthy living.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Violents in the media

Yes I can spell. Go read a Xanth novel :~P

I watch too much tv. This is a fact that has been verified by assorted experts and documented in peer-reviewed journals. In my defense, it's my parents' fault. I'm a child of the 80's, and we got our tv when I was 4 or 5. A formative age. I got to watch such awesome shows as Voltron, Thunder Cats, Snorks, Smurfs, Doctor Who, and (when I was EXTRA lucky and my parents let me stay up past my bedtime) MacGyver. This childhood bliss lasted until I was 7 or 8, when our tv broke. And my parents decided not to get it fixed. Or buy a new one. Ever again. That's right friends - at this tender age, the joyous bond between a girl and her tv was heartlessly torn asunder. I never developed the ennui that most people of my generation have towards television due to the decade or so of shows like Blossom and Full House. I love tv and could watch it all day every day. This is my burden, which I shoulder happily.

One thing I often read or hear about is the glamorization of crime on tv. I agree that this is indeed a problem, and one of the major misrepresentations of the lives of criminals is in television depictions of strip clubs. Not that I *want* to see the reality of those places when I watch tv, but here's the deal: if you DON'T want kids to grow up and become meth-dealing motorcycle gangsters, then spit the truth. A strip club in a backwater town that is run by drug-running bikers is NOT going to have Vegas-quality ass dancing the poles. An honest glimpse of these venues may just be enough to scare a few kids straight. The entertainers will not have cellulite-free tushies on ballet-dancer legs, topped by perky breasts and a pretty face. There will be cellulite, and droopage. If the legs aren't stick-straight, they'll be triangular, with the apex at the bottom. And the dental situation shouldn't even be pondered in the broad light of day.

Just North of my hometown is a lime-green building that clearly was once a house, probably a farmhouse. It isn't *quite* dilapidated, but it verges on being so, and has ever since I can remember. Attached to this is a U-shaped group of buildings, clearly added on years after the house was built, with no attempt to blend the architecture (or color even – it's white) with the original construction. The addition is also not-quite-ramshackle and has been so for ages. Together, this conglomeration is known as Fairways Inn, and attached to the green building is this sign, which pretty much says it all:

I've never been there, but my husband (in his misspent youth) has, as have several of my girlfriends (on a lark, with male friends). Putting it as delicately as possible, the one-eyed dancer was one of the prettier ones. I wish I was making this up.

My point is, THESE are the places that should be shown on tv! Don't show the biker ringleader with a hot blond on one side and brunette on the other, both with tight bodies and well-coiffed hair. Put Toothless Tawny and Cellulite Cindy on the screen. Give those wayward kids something to think about.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

I just want to start things over

It's been a while since I posted anything, I know. That bitch of a hurricane who stole my name has also drained my emotions, and made me hesitant to write because I didn't know what might come spewing out.

My hope/plan for today is to sleep as much as possible, to try to rest my mind and heart. They've been jerked around enough lately.

Friday, September 02, 2005


Well, after my overwrought post from last night, Harley decided to do a 180 for the THIRD time in his life. I think he delights in causing us emotional turmoil. Copying & pasting my update post from MUA because I'm feeling lazy and have stuff to do:

Last night when I talked to the vet, she basically told me that it didn't look like Harley was going to make it. His bladder was still producing icky fluid, and his prostate is enlarged and definitely cystic, if not cancerous (according to the ultrasound). She said that IF he made it through the infection, he'd probably need surgery (which he might not survive) or serious pharmacological management (which might not help and might cause nasty side effects). But the hardest part was that it was iffy he'd even survive this infection b/c he was so dehydrated and his bladder was just releasing the gross fluid. So I had to call Chris and tell him this over the phone b/c he's in Chicago, and we were both bawling our eyes out and trying to be positive, though her prognosis made that insanely difficult. We knew we couldn't put him through another exploratory surgery, and that we may not be able to afford the medications they said he needs.

So I went to bed emotionally and physically exhausted, and only got up about an hour ago. There was a message on my phone from the vet. Never have I so clearly heard surprise in another person's voice over the phone. Harley has been urinating on his own, and when the nurse expressed his bladder this morning his urine was completely normal. He has been eating and drinking on his own, and he's almost fully alert again. AND (since Chris and I aren't going to go with surgery, at least for now) I can go pick him up in a couple hours!!!

He's already had the one Lupron shot, and she'll send him home with antiinflammatory meds and antibiotics, so we don't have to decide on further medical management for another month, assuming he makes it that long. I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but he HAS done this to us twice in the past (near death and then an insanely fast, surprising turnaraound). At the very least, we can have him here with us as long as possible. I'm pretty much numb at this point from all the emotional upheaval, but I'm SO relieved that we won't have to make the euthanasia decision it looked like we'd have to make today. And my little old man will be home when his daddy gets back from Chicago!

So there are no guarantees, but my baby is coming home in a couple hours!

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Tragic Math

What's worse than having to do a cost-effectiveness analysis?

Having to do one for a dying pet.

Having to face the fact that no amount of money will guarantee that he will live.

Having to face the fact that the treatment options may themselves kill him.

Having to face the fact that the treatment options will definitely diminish his quality of life.

Having to face the fact that very soon you will have to say goodbye to someone who has meant more to you in this life than most others have, and that your decisions are what will determine the specifics of this departure. Someone who has been the closest thing you and your husband have had together, for the past 6 years. Someone who, 1 year and 8 months ago was given (optimistically) 1 year to live by the surgeon who saved his life. Someone you can't imagine living without.

Having to do all of this today.