Last week I signed up for Weight Watchers. I realized that I had finally gotten to the point that I couldn’t pull myself out of this weight spiral without help. I had reached 230lbs. Or 229.2lbs according to the meeting scale. Weighing that much in front of the leaders of the meeting was the most humiliating experience of my life. One of the ladies working there saw my distress and said something that really struck home with me. She said, “Think about it this way. This is the last time you ever have to see that number. And we’re here to help make sure that is the case.”
That is one of the things I loved the most about WW when I used it before. I lost nearly 85lbs when I was in high school and kept it off until I got into my first real relationship when I stopped using the tools I was taught. He didn’t work out, and since he didn’t, I didn’t want to be away from him for 2 hours a day, so I stopped. I then started the cycle of what I call “happy fat.” Any time I am in a relationship, it is inevitably with a man who doesn’t work out or have to watch what he eats, and so I stop taking care of myself and start eating the same crap he eats because I don’t want to cook two meals each time we eat at home. It’s food I have no business eating and it’s a pattern I need to break if I am ever going to have a healthy relationship with men and food.
In a true testimony of how well this program works, I lost 4.8lbs this week 🙂 And that on top of having my monthly visitor, and going over my allotted points the first two days of the week. I’m hoping that next week I’ll have at least some gain. might even get my first 5lb sticker! However, now we come to the No Way portion of this update…
Last Friday, I went to the Veteran’s Hospital to visit my grandfather. He had had surgery earlier in the week to release 3 trapped nerves and had developed a nasty infection in the incision on top of his foot. They thought it was recurring phlebitis, and so I thought nothing of touching the foot and cleaning the wound when I was there, because phlebitis is apparently passed through open wound contact only. Meaning I would need an open wound to come in contact with his wound in order to contract the infection. I found out on Monday that my grandfather had MRSA, not phlebitis. Great. They warned that if any of us who came in contact with him got any strange lesions, that we should go straight to the doctor and let them know we were exposed to MRSA. So on Tuesday, I noticed a large and disconcerting lesion under my left breast that had not been there on Monday. Again, great. I dropped everything and went straight to the ER. The doc took one look at it and said it was MRSA. I got a tetanis shot, 2 intra-muscular antibiotic boosters and a round of IV antibiotics. They also gave me an antiseptic wash that I have to use everyday, an antibiotic nasal ointment and 2 oral antibiotics. I am completely doped up. And to boot, the doc said that because the wound was somewhere no one would come in contact with it and because I caught it early and am completely innoculated, that I don’t even have to take time off from work. So, possibly life-threatening infection and I don’t even get permission to call in sick. Perfect.
Needless to say, I had to think about my kids. Some of the disabilities my students have include hyper-susceptibility to infections and illnesses, so I stayed home today to give the meds an extra day to work. Tomorrow will be my first day working on these meds, and I have to say, not really looking forward to it. I kind of feel like I’m walking through a peanut butter river with my head stuck in jello. (Food analogy. That’s the diet talking. Lol)
I don’t have a weigh-in on Monday since it’s a holiday, but I will be attending the Tuesday meeting. I’m ready to shed this extra weight and finally let people get close to me again. I’m tired of using my fat as a shield to protect my heart and perpetuate my self-loathing. I’m talented, capable, intelligent and worthy of love and affection. It’s about time that I start treating myself like I am 🙂
The hurdles & hopes of a modern day mess 
