I was feeling dizzy and crappy so thought to check my blood sugar, which was scary bad!  So I weighed and seriously cleaned up the carb intake for a few days.  Granted, I was feeling sick and also sleep deprived, so that could also contribute to the bad bs numbers. A healthy bout of interval exercise one day did wonders for the morning numbers the next.  I was too sore to repeat the scenario, and then more days went by.  And with them, the inspiration to continue.

Meanwhile, I started zoloft again.  Plus, I’m weaning.  Oh, all these ups and downs.  I chopped my pill into 4-5 bits, so am only getting 10-12 mg doses, in hopes that it will help.  I don’t want to take much.  Just the minimum possible to achieve some stability.  And I’m hopefully over the hardest emotional part of the weaning.  It’s been sad for me.  I should be finished by the end of this month, I think, and maybe even sooner.  I’m down to one pump a day, and only about 7 ounces.  The hard part was going from 40 oz to 30 to 20 to 10.  Mercy, what a ride.

There are some financial stressors as well.  Social too.  I don’t know why this aging gig is such a downer for me.  I don’t remember ever having so much stress and anxiety when I was younger.  But again, I do remember this broken-record of an emotional cycle, so maybe I have, indeed, been this way all along.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and think that if I were of a normal weight, everything would be better.   I don’t want my life to be spent chasing that as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and never actually just simply revel in the beauty of the rainbow itself.  So many of my friends try one diet scheme after another, and the years go by.  I don’t want to be one of those women in my 50s and 60s, still dieting, still loathing my body.  I just want to find happiness with what I have, and do what I can to gently restore it.  Not beat myself up over having let it get to this condition.  But just take care.

I wonder if I felt better in my head, if I’d feel better in my body.  Surely.  And then I wonder why I don’t feel better in my head.  How can I feel better in my head?

It’s such a vicious cycle.  I know that exercise would make me feel better in my head, but the ambition and inspiration to actually get going is like trying to stir the gallon of Adam’s old-fashioned peanut butter that’s been sitting, settled, in my cupboard for the last umpteen years.  Not an easy thing!

My thoughts turn to wanting or hoping for an external force to motivate me.  Why can’t or won’t my husband?  Why can’t we make healthy living a family effort?  He’s just not interested.  Bah.

And I’m back where I began.  Nowhere.

Going the wrong way!  It’s birthday week and we went out to eat twice, plus had cake.  Other than that, I’ve actually eaten well.  Emotionally, I even considered that I’m ready to embrace a love of small portions.  Or at least consider it.  That said, yesterday I did a stellar job of eating great foods.  Sure, there was some fat involved, but overall, it was a good day for food.

Check it out…

Egg-beaters with bacon bits and cream cheese for breakfast, two lattes, two or three flagons of tea, mixed greens with ranch for lunch, mixed greens with ranch again for dinner, plus broccoli and a 6oz portion of chicken breast.  See?

This week is anniversary week, and we’re probably going to go out to eat once more, plus take in a movie (or two).  We’re so romantic.  But if I continue to maximize the veggies and minimize everything else, I should come up okay.  I think I need to lose 6 lbs in two weeks, to meet my goal.  It’s do-able.  The leftover birthday cake in the freezer is calling to me, though…

I suck.

Really must get some incentive and do something about this.  Sigh.

Same old story. This week featured donuts, cookies, pizza, and gallons of tea laced with cream, honey, and cinnamon.  I need to research that internet email about the benefits of cinnamon and honey, because I went hog wild with it and my taste buds were very very happy this week.

I did lose over 200lbs of STUFF this week, though.  I sent 97 lbs of books to a friend, and donated another 50-60lbs along with boxes and bags of toys and clothes and blankets and other miscellaneous household items, so in the great Karma of the universe, it was still a good week.

Same story, but I did do DDR last night, so got an eensy weensy amount of exercise.

No exercise.  Too many froot loops.  No surprise.

I tried to measure myself for a bra, then ordered one from breakoutbras.com.  42J.  I could even be a K, but it would take two people to get a proper measurement.  I can hold up these old floppy boobs or the tape measure, but not both.  Besides, I didn’t see any Ks under $50, and I’m sorry, I’m just not ready to spend $50 on a bra.  Yet.  Anyhow, I’m actually looking forward to the new trial bra.  I recently went through this very exercise with Cacique, and ordered a couple of 42Hs, to test out this measuring technique.  H was as high as the ones I was willing to buy went, and I’d been wearing 44 and 46 DDs and DDDs until then.  I was skeptical that I could actually be an H, let alone a J or K.  I have to say, though, when I got those 42Hs, they felt amazing, and they really did support me.  All of my life I never thought I could ever jog, but it could actually be possible if I could find a bra that fits.  Not that I’m planning to get out there and jog, but pendulous boobs flapping in the wind have kept me from any long term attempts.  And to my surprise, my boobs pooch out of the 42Hs, so I’m willing to admit there may be something in that measuring technique.   Thus, I am looking forward to experiencing the fit of a 42J.  I’m also looking forward to the end of lactation, and wondering if it will cause some shrinkage.  I surely hope so, even though these orbs seem to be the same size they’ve been for years and years.

Okay, enough about boobs.  On to moods.

My moods are more fickle than the weather.  Or as fickle.  I installed frosted film on my office windows, at my sister’s suggestion, to provide privacy yet allow natural light.  The thought being that natural light will help boost my mood.   I’ve kept the blinds closed because of all the hours I spend at my desk, attached to my breast pump, so it feels a bit like a cave, and yes, it does get depressing.  Now I have natural filtered light.  It helps.

I’ve been going in and out of a mood of general discontent.  Discontent with my home, my body, my marriage, my mothering, my self.  I pondered this and realized that the only area of my life in which I feel content is my work, and in wondering why, some friends pointed out that at work I am valued and respected and those sentiments are reinforced frequently.  Whereas…

I’d like to find a way to lock my thoughts into contentment when it comes to home, body, marriage, mothering and self.  I left the house as soon as my work day was finished and went to Costco, just to get out.  It felt great.  Then it started pouring rain, and I love a downpour, so that made me feel even better.  Funny, drizzle can sap the energy right out of me, but I find a downpour to be energizing and invigorating.   I coudn’t bring myself to buy the Versace cream and sugar set I had gone to gaze upon, but I did find a book for my son and a garden bench storage crate for my husband.  Shopping makes me feel good too.  I felt so good that I decided to rush home and tidy up the house and take a quick shower before everone else got home, giving myself a head start on the evening.  All these things help to make me feel good.  I had a sensible salad for dinner, and so far have eaten reasonably all day.  Hooray for me.  Well, I say that as I suck on a butterscotch candy.

Hope.  Hope seems to go hand in hand with mood.  When the mood slips away, I find myself feeling hopeless and desolate.  When I feel good, I feel full of hope and promise for a bright new day.  I don’t know which is the cause or which is the effect, but I wish I knew how to hold on to hope and stay bright and cheerful.  I eat better when I feel happy.  I have more energy, and think more pleasant thoughts.  If only I could stay that way, the long term effects could be wonderful.  I might actually find myself at a naturally healthy weight.  If only.

I had to eat celery all day in order to squeeze in, and I mean squeeze, under the finish line.  And all the froot loops I just couldn’t stop munching on tonight are certainly not a good start for this week’s attempt.

Must. Do. Better.

Again, by the skin of my teeth.  I had 2 pieces of cake one day, 2 donuts another day, and nearly a bag of Doritos by the end of the week.  Only went for a walk once.  Apart from all that, I generally ate well.  Lots of celery.  Lots of salad.  Lots of tea.

One good thing I noticed about the Doritos consumption.  As usual, it’s hard to eat just one, but after I finally put the bag away and what I’ve ingested sloshed about in my gut for a little while, I felt icky.  Very technical word, icky.   Anyhow, I’m theorizing that when my body and brain make an association that Doritos make me feel icky, I may not have any further desire for Doritos.  It works with things like alcohol and cigarettes.  But those things are gross to begin with.  There was a time when I liked a nip of cognac or a hot toddy, and there was a time, one time only, when I drank myself stupid.  Ever since, I have no desire whatsoever for strong drink.  Hence the basis of the theory.

Something I noticed about the cake consumption.  I love cake!  I wanted more!  It was hard to stop thinking about it.  Clearly it’s a super trigger for me.  I will have to find a way to reduce it from an obsession to something manageable.

This week’s goals:  more exercise, less Doritos.