Counting one's blessings

So day before yesterday when I went for my walk around the call center, I started getting heart palpitations. I forged on through, figuring it would pass. I tried again at lunch, same thing. Second break, I stopped halfway because it started to scare me.

So now I'm being very careful and trying to do stuff other than walking, because honestly?  I don't feel like keeling over--mostly because I don't think Genghis will do what I ask and play "Goin' Back to Cali" and "I Love LA" at my funeral. For that matter, I don't think he'd even so much as try to get me in the family plot in Chatsworth--but of course, I could be wrong.

Anyway. I have a feeling that part of the issue is caffeine intake. So I've been moderating that more heavily, and I'll have to talk to my endo about this on Tuesday when I go see her. That should be a big ball of fun, right there.

But on the upside?  I can make it to the mailbox with no problem now (a far damn cry from when I started, yo). Coming back is a pain though--fuckin' hills.

Hitting the wall

Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this, really. Pain has been a constant companion lately--which some would say is weakness leaving the body, but to me it's just something that I want to be quit of, something to fight through...even though it would be easier to just give up. But I took the easy route before, and all it brought me was pain.

I don't know that I'm ready to give up--I don't know that I'll ever be ready to give up. But I wonder why I'm doing this--who I'm doing this for. I'm to the point where I want to quit my job so I can devote myself to other goals, but I know that I need money. Since I don't think I'll be winning the lottery anytime soon, I guess I kinda have to lump it.

Note to self: buy a scale.

Ego Spikes and Sugar Drops

My back is KILLING me today. KILLING. ME. This made walking difficult. I couldn't go to the 'mill like I planned last night, which pissed me off--so I busied myself cleaning house and taking out trash instead. Blood sugar spiked at 159 at 10PM, which freaked me out. Made myself a turkey sandwich, and about an hour and a half later blood sugar was down to 107. This morning when I woke up, it was at 96. I had to explain to Genghis this morning that if I skip meals, it spikes the blood sugar because my body goes "OH NOES NEED ENERGY" and tells my cells to release a bunch of stored glucose into my system in an attempt to compensate.

You would think that a guy who was a quarter shy of becoming an RN would know something like this. But no, he didn't get it.  As I've told many people, he's not malicious. He's just clueless.

So this morning I had a large bowl of Special K, and I've been snacking on trail mix and had a packet of nabs to keep the blood sugar from spiking and then crashing (it's at 88 right now). That's my fault, because I didn't even think to pack a lunch today--and I even got my favourite wholegrain bread for sandwiches at the store last night! Go team me. If it gets any lower, well I have an Emergency Dum Dum I can suck on.

Had two co-workers and a sup come up to me at work today and comment that it's becoming very apparent that I'm losing weight, and give me attaboys. Encouragement like that means a lot to me, because it confirms what I already know: that I'm doing the right thing.

Now, if I can just keep from falling out because of my own damn foolishness.... *reaches for the Emergency Dum Dum*

Thanks Eostre Bunny!

The equinoxes proceed according to precedent, and so I wish a happy Eostre to you all. May the arrival of spring bring you luck.

Breakfast this morning was 2 cups grapes, half a bagel with 1 oz cream cheese, and a couple swigs of 2% milk. I've been snacking it all day with unsalted trailmix (almonds, peanuts, sunflower kernels, raisins) from the vending machine downstairs, and meandering briskly around the floor with help from my iPod (today's playlist is "I Have The Touch" by Peter Gabriel, "Take California" by Propellerheads, "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Tomoyaso Hotei, "Forty Six and 2" by Tool, and "Ready Steady Go" by Paul Oakenfold. When I get home I'll throw on some more Tool before I go hit the treadmill).

I felt rather proud of myself today when my sup came round with cookies and I politely declined--because honestly?  I don't miss the sugary stuff I used to go nuts for. Perhaps it's because I've started satisfying my brain's need for carbohydrate energy with stuff that I also go nuts for but is better for me (like the pork lo mein that I had last night for dinner). If my blood sugar for whatever reason takes a nosedive, I have a Dum Dum pop at my desk that I can suck on. The better choice of course would be to get a packet of nabs* from the vending machine downstairs, but if my blood sugar is dropping then there's no way I can get down there before I fall out and they truck my happy ass off to WakeMed in the back of an ambulance.

Tonight's dinner is beef fried rice and greens dressed with a spritz of olive oil and some montreal steak seasoning, followed by walking through all of "10,000 Days". Maybe I'll push it and try to get through "Aenima" too. Doable, y/y?

*:for those who are not from the South, "nabs" are those little snack crackers that you get from the vending machine, like six to a pack.

I'm a Nightside Girl in a Dayside World

Breakfast: 1 bowl Fiber One w/oatmeal raisin clusters, 8oz 2% milk

Lunch: 1 piece fried flounder
Snack: Bagel w/2oz strawberry cream cheese, 1 pkg Karr's trail mix (peanuts, sunflower kernels, almonds, raisins

Dinner: TBD

Did two circuits of the 2nd floor on break, did the same outside over lunch and I'm planning to do three on second break. It's kind of a pain in the ass sometimes, because I get stopped by co-workers with questions and so—but at least on lunch I have an hour. NO PRESSURE, RIGHT?

This morning I basically had to get up and get right in the shower, and then I had five minutes to get dressed and get out the door so I could get to work early. Fortunately, this morning I had no blood sugar issues that I knew of, but of course dumbass me not only forgot to check my blood sugar, but I left the glucose meter at home. Err...oops?

I told Genghis that for Yule I want a stationary bike—preferably one that I can camp in front of my monitor so I can watch hockey while pedalling gods only know how many miles. If I could figure out how to rig it up, I'd be able to play WoW while on the bike too. I'd do everything on the bike. I'd even do my work on the bike, but then my customers would be all “Damn, woman—they got you running laps or something there?” I love cycling and hockey. The first day of the Tour de France is a holiday for me, as is the first day of hockey season. Years ago, I had a bike and would ride it everywhere. Then I fucked my knees up and had to stop riding. Hockey was different—there, I kinda had to watch. Not easy being one of only four hockey fans in a tiny-ass town of 1500 in the middle of damn nowhere.

So my goals are thus:

Drop to 190
Start skating
Start cycling (again, and over the objections of Genghis, who is convinced I'll get pasted by a truck or a city bus)
Play hockey

I am the AcidQueen, and I am a defenceman like my Harry before me.

Back In The Saddle Again

I recently started on an heroic quest to lose all of the weight I gained over the last 17 years of marriage...and then some.

Hi, I'm AQ and I'm trying to get right with myself.

Here is my most recent photograph (from 2006, after my beloved Hurricanes won the Cup):

My goal is to get down to 190--from there, everything else is gravy. The hard part was starting. I've already started modifying my eating habits so that I'm eating more of what I like (greens, fruit, nuts, other stuff that's good for a body), and no more of what my husband likes (TV dinners, nasty Kroger chicken, fast food, and so on).

For so many years, it was easier for me to just shut the fuck up and eat what Genghis put in front of me rather than bitch and wind up having to deal with drama about "spending money" and raving about how "we need to eat cheap food", or put up with insane jealousy every time I even so much as said hello to a guy on the street. I knew it was bad, I knew that the fact that I have PCOS made it far far easier to gain than to lose, but I did it anyway because it was the only way to avoid getting shit on by somebody with his own set of insecurities.

I complained (oh man did I complain) to my friends, my friends said WTFHUSBAND? (and a few said WTFDIVORCE?) to me--my best friend on the whole planet flat told me he was afraid I'd wind up dead if it didn't stop (I believe the phrase he used was "fatted to die")...and that was 13 years ago. I think that when the two of us re-established contact after so long, he was surprised to find out I was still 1) breathing and 2) ambulatory. Even my family practice doctor and my endocrinologist at Duke U. said something to me and to Genghis...and he just didn't get it, even after Dr. Brown (my endo, not my best friend or the dude from the Back To The Future movies) told him that I fit the criteria for Type 2 Diabetes and things had to change immediately.

I'm still surprised she didn't slap him when he flat out said "Well, we don't have a lot of money and we need to economize. We need to eat cheap food." Hell, I'm surprised I didn't slap him.

I wanted to stop for years, but didn't find the strength to cut loose with my Voice of Appropriately Righteous Indignation until about a month ago, when I finally stood up to Genghis and told him that at long last I was through getting fat for him; that I was going to lose weight or die trying. I told him he basically had three choices:

1) Get on the bus
2) Get out of the way of the bus
3) Get run the hell over by the bus

And I would start spending my paychecks on stuff that I prefer to eat, whether he likes it or not. I talked to my family practice doctor about the LAP-BAND and getting in with a nutritionist, and I've also started taking antidepressants (but that is another issue that I've been dealing with since I was a child, and solving that will only help with everything else). And I started walking everywhere again.

Oh gods, the walking. That was where the gravity of the situation was piledriven home to me. I couldn't even get to the mailbox at my apartment complex (which is roughly 1/4 mile away from my apartment) without feeling like I was going to fall over. Now the only trouble I have is getting back to the apartment--hills still kill my legs and back, but at least I can get there without feeling like my heart is going to explode from my chest by the time I'm halfway. Breaks and lunchtimes at work see me walking laps around my office building, both inside and (at lunch) out. Sodas, gone. Junk, gone. Nasty Kroger Chicken, gone. Stouffer's dinners, gone.

And by Yule I will have a Hammer tattooed on my collarbone to remind me that I can overcome my own messed-up orlog through this heroic effort.