Weighty woes

The unthinkable happened today.  I was at work.  Sluggish as usual and feeling like shit.  I didn't think it was anything serious (just the usual run down self I've become accustomed to...that doesn't necessarily get excited about going to work anymore.)  When I walked in a couple minutes behind schedule, before I could even check the voicemail to find out how many call outs I was looking at for the day, my cell phone started ringing...it was my least favorite Ops Manager--seriously this dude is a complete dill hole and I have no idea how he's in his position. But at this point it's irrelevant.  He's freaking out because he had about three people not show up and was short staffed in one department.  I got on the phone and began calling all ten people that were told to not to come to work today because they weren't needed, only to ask them if they were available for work that day.  Fucking ridiculous.  Piss poor planning and well long story short my not feeling well in general got worse. 

I called my boss and told her I felt like shit and wasn't sure that I'd be able to make it much longer.  By this point I was having hot flashes and feeling sick to my stomach.  I just wanted to go home and sleep the day away.  Then it dawned on me that I had just vented to my boss, off the record of course that I was so fed up with the way things were at work and that I no longer jumped out of bed to come running into work... I didn't want her to think that I was just bailing, because in truth I really didn't feel well.  I wanted to cry, scream, punch the next dumbass who stepped in my path...I needed to get out of there...even if it meant losing out on potential overtime for the week and not even making my forty hours... (I don't get sick time...I didn't care today...)

I went to the doctor with no specific symptoms, in search of a note...to excuse my absence and because lil man had been throwing up (I felt this was probably stress related, but wanted to be sure since we already had someone in my town die of the H1N1 flu crap... I'm not normally a germaphobe, nor do I give second thought to sickness because I just hate going to the doctor...but with a new baby in the picture, I didn't want to risk anything)

I fell asleep in the exam room waiting on the doctor, who I could hear outside the door in the nurses station discussing lottery tickets and the office raffle or some bullshit... glad to know I'm not dying and not a serious case.  My blood pressure, temp, and weight were all checked prior to my arrival in the exam room.  The results, 118/72, 97 degrees, and JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME...

From this point to the doctors arrival and in between my cat naps I had had plenty of time to focus on and freak out about my weight.  I flashed back to the time I went to the crotch doc for my normal annual violation and the scales tilted at 223 pounds.  After leaving the office I cried the entire way home as my mom drove...I couldn't believe my weight had reached that point.  Today, about five or six years later I've hit an all time high and I was devastated. Devastated to the point of tears when trying to talk to the doctor.  I had to take ownership in the fact that the reason I feel like shit all the time is my weight.  I have heartburn all the time it seems, even from drinking water--WTF?  I'm tired no matter how long I sleep, I'm slugglish, I never want to do anything, I've isolated myself from friends and social gatherings because it means people seeing me. 

I was mad at myself for crying. I cry at the most random times.  I went from answering the "could you be pregnant" question with a chuckle and explaining that I'm a lesbian and I don't do guys in rebuttle to the doctors usual, well how do you know....to trying to explain how I feel with no symptomatic description that would help in diagnosis at all.

I told the doctor that I felt like stress had a lot to do with how I felt and my weight in general and when I revealed to him that my current weight is at an all time high I fucking lost it.  Cried like a lil bitch, while Dr. Dickhead just watched...baffled.  It was determined that there was no need for labs, which I agreed with because they always come back the same, nothing is wrong with me, I'm just fat... He suggested I look into Weightloss centers of america or another doctor or two that specialize in weight loss medicine, and/or surgery.  When I made the comment, I'd rather just do it on my own...he quickly said, "that's going to be tough" with a face that said, I don't think you have a concept of just how fat and unhealthy you really are. (mind you he suggested something that insurance isnt' likely to cover after he went through the computer and pulled up my information, discovering that I had been to see an endocrinologist earlier in the year for treatment of PCOS, but quit because it was too expensive...I'm still paying those fucking bills and they couldn't get my levels adjusted right so I'm still a hormonal mess and FAT)

I gathered my composure for him to explain to me that I'm 28 years old and that if I continue living with this excess weight on my 5 foot 3 and half inch frame, i'm going to never get rid of this slugglish feeling, I'm going to have health problems that get progressively worse, arthritis in my joints from carrying this weight around, among other things that could potentially lead to early death.  I was done talking to this guy.  Not because I disagreed, but I needed to cry some more and needed to get out while I had the chance.  I grabbed my doctor's note and bolted.  I hit the parking lot in time for the tears to start pouring...I cried all the way home.  I still felt like shit so I decided I was going to take a nap...(naps are not exactly going to solve my predicament, but they generally help buy me time to come up with a plan)...

Jen called me, she had to go and pick up lil man from school because he was throwing up and she was worried about me because of the vague text I had sent her after leaving the doctor's office.  I said somethign about beign fine, just fat.... I started crying on the phone and just didnt want to talk about it...I went down to grandma's end of the house since it was 11 am and she wasn't down in the kitchen yet, I was making sure she was alive.  She was.  I'm not sure what part of I don't feel good I'm going to lay down she didn't understand but thirty minutes later she was still talking, asking me to do stuff and telling me all about everything she's planning on taking on her trip (she's leaving this weekend to see her sister, her brother is picking her up) I finally cut her off and explained, Grandma, I don't leave work often at all because I don't feel well, I've already been to the doctor and I need to go lay down...it finally registered.

I slept for four and a half hours when my mom called and I told her about leaving work early and being fat.  She did the normal, Tommy...stop beating yourself up and I near tears explained to her that I'm at my all time high and just can't fathom how I keep letting this happen. It makes no sense NO SENSE at all.... I came to moms house because she, my sister, and my aunt, plus the baby have all taken a road trip to leave baby daddy in Radford, where he lives, and plan to leave from there in the morning and head to Kentucky to visit my mom's parents so tehy can see the baby--they'll be back Monday, minus baby daddy so I have dog duty.  I get to watch my sister's dogs plus mine, but since Gma is leaving Saturday, i'll probably just load the dogs up so that I can be at my house with them plus mine and get my own shit done...

I went online and finally ordered my stuff from lil man's school fundraiser, I had been putting it off for whatever reason.  Then I went to weight watchers online to check it out.  I've gone to weight watchers meetings before but quit because the leader's voice and CAMEL TOE were equally annoying--plus it was counter productive because everytime I had a good week, I'd go to McDonald's and reward myself with a vat of death... fuck.

I signed up, I paid for one month and got one month free...I have a few meetings to choose from in my area, that aren't lead by camel toe lady and for the first time ever am doing this on my own. I'm not relying on my mom or my sister to do things with me...this is my fight and I'm the only one that can do it for me.  The first meeting will be next week because I've missed the meetings this week already.  I'm excited about this new venture. It's not going to be easy, but I've gotta do what I've gotta do...I can't continue on the same path that I've been headed down.  No room for excuses. 

I will be using my new blog (eventually) to vent, track, etc my progress so that I don't bore anyone with the details... I'm coming clean, I'm going to be honest...blunt even. I have never openly admitted to my weight or pants size...but I am tonight...just because I think it will help me in this process (though I'm not sure the logic behind using humiliation as a motivator)... It's hard when I have such a wonderful woman in my life who looks at me and doesn't see fat or disgusting but beautiful and fabulous...but I have to face the facts....I don't see those things when I look in the mirror and I'm the only one that can do something to change it.  I'm tired of being the chick with the great personality, or being told wow...you carry your weight really well...I'M TIRED OF FUCKING CARRYING IT.

I generally wear anywhere from a 22 to 26 in women's pants depending on who makes them.  My cargo shorts are a guys 46 or 48 (I have a couple in each) and I generally wear men's XL tops which I stretch out at the bottom to keep them from clinging to my gut....2Xs are too big so I'm technically in an in between size kind of girl.... Everything cute is meant for little people and anything past a size 16/18 is like old ladyish... unless you have money fore  Lane Bryant or Torrid or some other fashionable women's clothing stores which I do not.

So here it is, the scale today read 273 pounds.  Ridiculous.  Tomorrow is a new day...I'll be in a better modd and I have a plan.... Weightwatchers is the way to go for me in theory because I can still count points and have a beer when I want one lol.

My brother just stopped by mom's house...I open the door and my nostrils immediately filled with the smell of Pot.  I swear...i would love having a job where I could get high and not have to worry about random drug tests or getting hurt and having to pee in a cup... Don't judge me... I'm anti drug (but I'm a supporter of pot in many situations...since it's natural and all) I don't want any man made shit from some chemical flunkie's kitchen that's goign to potentially kill me.  Fuck that.  But alas...not weed for me.  I have to be responsible and can't risk not having a pay check.

I'd like to lose 123 pounds on this journey...it's not going to happen overnight...so here goes nothing.