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30 October 2002

I feel like I'm back in St. Brigid's Grammar School, lining up by height and being marched over to the church to stand in line and go to confession. The difference is that I don't think I'll pee on the floor this time.

Yes, it's Tuesday and that means it's time to confess my sins.

I knew I would have gained weight this week. There were two parties with big buffets, and atmospheres in which I was uncomfortable. I just don't do parties. And I always end up spending too much time at the food table(s) because it's something to DO and keeps me from wandering around aimlessly knowing I should talk to someone, but too shy to approach a total stranger and strike up a conversation.

But the buffets weren't the real problem. The real problem is I've come to "that part of the new plan" where it's all become old hat, the excitement about getting into the new habits, enjoying exercise, etc, is fading. I'm amazed that it lasted this long, as a matter of fact. This is precisely where I was back in 1985 when I'd lost....80 lbs. I was looking good, wearing "off the rack," and feeling good about myself.

Well, we can't let THAT happen, can we?

I can't let myself feel GOOD about me, can I?

So 17 years ago, I embarked on a program of sabotage that left me so chastened...and so fat...that it took me 15+ years to get to the point where I was willing to get serious about reversing the trend.

I am about a month into that same mindset now. It has been slowly creeping in. First I stopped reading message in Pointers, the group that is passionate about counting points. I stopped because there are over 100 messages a day in that group and we were going out of town for the wedding and I knew I couldn't keep up. So I shut it off, intending to turn it back on again at the end of the weekend, but then I got busy with work and thought I'd just leave it off till I get through the crunch...then I just kinda never thought to turn it back on.

Thank goodness I have a Pointers guardian angel in my friend Joan, who has been nudging me to come back. I turned the e-mail back on yesterday.

Then there was finding handy excuses not to exercise. Laryngitis (like I couldn't walk on a treadmill with laryngitis?), Journalcon, the trip to LA, yadayadayada. Again, thank god for guardian angels, in this case Cindy, who, as a dentist, has learned the art of being positive. She never nags. She just doesn't take no for an answer, so I've been continuing on with the biking, even when I didn't feel like it.

But the biggie is food. What is it with me and food? It is truly an addiction. It's comfort. It's fuel. It's relief of boredom. It's something to do to procrastinate. It's just always there, and unlike a bottle of gin that you can vow never to touch again, you do have to eat. My alcoholic friend tells me that it's the same thing. He has to drink too, but he chooses not to drink alcohol. I try to explain that while you can totally wipe booze out of your life, your body needs all those food groups. You can't give up bread and fats and sweets completely or you'll die. And as your taste buds start to change, you have new trigger foods. Who would have thought I--balloon bread lover that I am--could get turned on by whole wheat English muffins?

I said some time back that the key to this whole program is strict journal keeping. Writing down every morcel that goes into your mouth which gives you a gauge by which to know how much more you can eat during a day. If you stop weighing and checking points and journaling, you start guesstimating and then you forget so you guesstimate some more--and we all know that left to our own devices, we're going to guess low on points and high on amount. ("That's about a Tablespoon, isn't it?" Yeah right. More like 1/4 cup!)

And I haven't journaled in 3 weeks. Too busy. Not home. On the road. All the excuses. And that's what they are: excuses.

But in flies yet another guardian angel. My friend Diane, who started WeightWatchers strictly because of ME and who is doing fabulously, slow and steady, just the way that has been proven to be most effective. She keeps telling me how I've been her inspiration and how I can't quit. And behind her stand a whole army of reader guardian angels who have been cheering me on for the past ten months. If there's any good to come out of the embarrassment of never speaking your mind, this is it--I'm too embarrassed to quit. All of you guys have been just too, too, too supportive. I would not only be letting Me down, but so many other people. So it's back to the journal today, seeing if I still remember how to do it.

Finally, I have to remember the reason why I started this in the first place. I started this because I realized I had put my health at risk and it was very important to me to become healthy, because I had things I wanted to do and wasn't ready to face death yet. It's time to think about that once again.

So...bottom line? How much did I gain..... <cringing> 4.6 damn pounds. OK. I've said it. 4.6 lbs. That's scary. It puts me under 75 lbs once again, so I'm going to have to climb back up to that 80 lbs that I was so proud of. Watch me go...there will be a loss next week. I promise. Me and you.

But I titled this "A kick in the pants...a shot in the arm..." The shot in the arm came as I was slinking out of the WeightWatchers building and a woman grabbed my arm and said "Are you Bev?" I told her I was. She rambled on about how much she loved my letters to the editor, how she agreed with everything I said, how she appreciated my opinions, and then went on to say that her son was the president of the Gay-Straight Alliance at the high school and she really appreciated people who were supportive. She then went on to tell me what a fan of Paul's her son had been and how sorry she was about Paul's death. That was very nice, I have to admit.

So I've had a shot of self-esteem and a shot of reality and it's time to put one foot in front of the other and start back on the road again. And hope that I can at least get back to 75 by next Tuesday.

* * *

(And by the way, I want my mother to be very grateful that I did not write a journal entry yesterday entitled "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead." ....and all the family knows what I mean by that!)

Quote of the Day

A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good.

~ Steven Wright

Photo of the Day

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Believe it or not, this is a huge statue, one of a long line of huge statues, which adorns a new supermarket in town!

see Funny the Foto for today



One Year Ago
Sing Australia
When I left the office at 6:30 tonight, I was so tired I felt like I'd been running a marathon. But my work day was only half over. I raced home, fed the dog, grabbed a tape recorder and headed off to the theatre.

Two Years Ago
Look to the Rainbow
We were both having a very hard time holding back tears and the last thing we needed was to stand around prolonging the agony. So we unloaded the suitcase, I hugged her and started crying as I got into the car. I gave one final wave and then sped off.

(2 years seems like yesterday--
and I still miss her)

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Pounds Lost:  73.4
(this figure is updated on Tuesdays)

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Blue Angel 253.0

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Created 10/29/02