Actual picture of me scrolling through my Tumblr
As I mentioned in my previous post, I started both a Forensic Technician certification program and a medically supervised weight-management program a few weeks ago. There isn’t much to say about the forensic program, except that I Rule Ass. I completed and aced my first course, and start the next one soon. So on to the next thing:
The program that I am participating is an 800 calorie-a-day meal replacement plan that lasts about 20 weeks and has an average of 50-80lbs weight-loss for those who finish it. Every week you go to a place, give them money, they take your body stats, you get a blood draw, and they give you your food for the week. That’s it. No other food or drinks (except black coffee, tea, and diet soda). You eat 5 times a day and there are shakes, bars, and soup packets. It’s as exciting as it sounds.
Yes, I am bragging about my notebook, what.
You are supposed to lose about 3-5 pounds a week, and no more. I am losing 5 pounds a week. Why? Because honestly, as much as I love food, it has never ruled my life. Maintaining my weight has never been my problem and losing weight on my own wouldn’t even be a problem if only food were involved. I like healthy food. I am good at counting calories, points, etc. I was up to 5 miles at the gym, 5 days a week (a routine my doctor made me stop for the duration of this program, obviously). So what is the problem when I go it alone? I’ll give you one tiny hint:
Drinking adds calories, sure. But what it does, more than that, is make my choice of dinner go from shrimp ceviche or a veggie sandwich on whole wheat, to ALL OF THE NACHOS. It spikes my hunger and causes bad choices. I was using it as anxiety medication as well as my sole social activity, so my tolerance was through the roof and I was always tired. Simply cutting back was pointless because it took so much to relax me after a while that there was no point in a glass or two (unless they were the size illustrated above) because that amount had no effect on me- thus they were just wasted calories. No, it was more like 4 glasses (or in layman’s terms “a bottle”) before I even noticed its effects.
So with booze taken completely out of the equation (except Thanksgiving because oops), this hasn’t actually been very hard for me. Once I decide to relinquish control to a professional; I mean business. You tell me what to do or eat, and I do it. So yes, the weight is falling off and will continue to fall off me, which is great for my health, my vanity, and my blood pressure. But I expected it to be more difficult, day-to-day, as far as being hungry. That hasn’t happened. Fair warning, I’m about to get real here- as I spend more and more days sober and thinner, something else got switched back on, a lot more quickly than I expected. The Thirst: It has re-appeared.
Now please don’t mistake me, I have not been a total nun since my last breakup. But I have simply not sought it out. If it finds me: Great. I have felt so focused on myself- first on my misery and then on my progress, that there has been almost no room for sex and definitely no room for a relationship- and that has been A-OK with me.
[I would like to point out here that despite the weight gain that has made me feel barely human (THANKS, PATRIARCHY!) I have had no shortage of hot, smart, interesting men throwin’ the D my way… you know, in case any of you other ladies out there are curious whether or not this insecurity and the feeling of being undesirable because of weight gain is a bunch of shit lies we absorb because of societal pressures… It is. FYI the last guy I banged was not only totally fucking rad and threw DOWN in the sack, he also looked like a young, tall Martin Freeman.]
Excuse to post a gif of Martin Freeman? Don’t mind if I do.
But before all this, my sex drive was through the roof. It always has been, but between the anti-depressants, the weight gain, then all of the other setbacks, I literally stopped thinking about it unless it presented itself with a fucking bow on top (not literally, although that would have been pretty funny). But for the past few months, well… instead of day-dreaming about pizza as you might imagine one would when consuming only cardboard meal bars; instead I look at every hot guy I pass like he is a cartoon steak… plus I probably have more porn on my computer than a 16 year-old boy. I consider this to be a very, very good sign. With every step forward, I feel just a little bit more like Me again.
So I guess at the end this is just a post to check in, pat myself on the back, and note that I am killing it. Do I still have bad days? You bet your ass. But as I take my classes, and stay in the weight-management program, I always have this sense of progress and pride in the back of my mind to offset the bad days. I am getting a lot of reading and writing done since not drinking wine has freed up so much of my time. I just read Felicia Day’s new book and it is AWESOME. You come off that thing feeling like there is nothing you cannot do. She is an awkward unicorn and still manages to be a driven badass who gets shit done and she inspired the hell out of me. 10/10 recommend.
P.S. FUCK SUPERNATURAL AGAIN FOR FRIDGING CHARLIE, FUCK THEM WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND BURNING SWORDS UP THEIR STUPID BUTTHOLES
sorry, that was reflexive. ahem.
Anyway, I’ve only been at my current job for a year and I already have someone trying to steal me away to another program with a big, fat raise included (we’ll see). Regardless, if I stick with my plans I am about 6 months away from my happy weight and less than 2 years away from my dream job, and Heaven help anyone or anything that tries to get in my way now. Especially myself.
*puts myself officially on notice*
Besides this silly little blog and a few filthy (but I think pretty well-written) fanfics, expect a novel out of me soon. Instead of saying something super cheesy here like I really have the urge to, I’m just going to post this to say it for me… because no truer words.
And yeah- I was there for this.