Like many, many other Sparkers, I am about to embark upon Thanksgiving. Tomorrow, my husband and I depart for Manhattan, to have the meal at his parents' apartment. We'll return on Friday. I have no idea if/how much I'll spark between now and Saturday.
In the meantime, it's time to confront some demons. Well, maybe not demons. But to confront some different situations. Now, I have been on diets during holidays before, and the reaction of other family members -- despite how much I tell them that I am fine, I'm doing this for my health, etc., is often either a conscious or unconscious effort to get me to eat more or eat something I don't want, or to look at me with pitying eyes as if I were a starving child in Biafra.
Sheesh, people, get a grip.
I am eating as healthfully as possible. And after a lot of trimming and digging and requesting, I've gotten the meal down to under 1,000 calories and under 19 grams of fat. The fat grams are important because I am going to roll the dice and take alli. I hope there's no hidden fat lurking around. I don't enjoy treatment effects.
It's not an effort to sabotage me or anything. It's nothing malicious. It's more like a lot of details have to be attended to and I'm just another detail. I fully expect something to be forgotten or somehow altered. Again, this is not done to hurt me, it's more because there's so much going on and it's so overwhelming.
Oh, I will help as I can. But you need to recognize that this is a prewar Manhattan apartment. It doesn't have much of a proper kitchen with modern appliances. It's more like a toy kitchen, and the stove may very well be almost as old as my husband. Plus the stove is unreliable in terms of temperatures so cooking times are going to vary according to, I dunno, the phases of the moon.
The stove is so small that a good third of the meal is being prepared across the hall in a neighbor's apartment. As for where the neighbors are preparing their own meal, I have no idea. Perhaps there's some sort of Manhattan cultural exchange program, where everyone makes some of their dinner elsewhere in one cosmic, eight million-plus linked culinary daisy chain. Somewhere in Bensonhurst, someone is making their stuffing in the Bronx and their cranberry sauce is being constructed as far North as Poughkeepsie.
But I digress. It will work. It always does, although there's stress involved. I am bringing oatmeal, and flavor sticks for water, and my water bottle and some dried fruit snacks if I really get stumped. I've planned out my eats anyway, though it's possible that some of it will alter as we go along. I'm bringing the resistance bands and the small wristlet weights, and will hunt around for heavier weights while there. There is Riverside Park down the street. Columbia is close, too, so there are lots of places to walk (with hills!). The weather is supposed to be clear and somewhere in the 40s. My husband is psyched to walk around with me.
And, I have some major things to be thankful for. I don't know how many remember, but months ago I reported that a very close relative was ill. That relative has finished treatment and seems better. Doctors hesitate to use words like "cured" (and they kind of can't, as this was a second recurrence already), but everything is very optimistic, and no followup is scheduled until after the first of the year.
I am, of course, grateful to be so far along on this journey, and feeling so good doing it. I fret and I overanalyze and I rationalize but the truth is that I kind of like all of the mechanics of it and also am pleased with how seamlessly I think it will eventually work with Maintenance, although Maintenance is still many months from now. But it seems plausible and eminently doable.
I am grateful for the support my family has given me. My husband has been very good about not only walking with me but also about not pushing me to overdo it. This is a level of patience that perhaps was absent earlier. I don't know if it's that I've become more assertive in making sure that the pace fits what I need or that he's better at reading what's needed and responding to it but, either way, it works. My folks and inlaws have consistently cheered every milestone. Smaller clothes magically appear ("Oops, I bought this but didn't like it. Maybe you'd like it?") with all sorts of odd little pretexts but I accept them all gratefully.
I am grateful for my friends and their support. For M__, who listens and makes me laugh and keeps my spirits up. For A__, who asks her friends for clothes for me. For the other A__, who told me (at 246 lbs.) that I didn't even look like I was 200. For the other M__, who can't stop raving about how I look. For V__, who gets a little inspired to watch a bit for himself. For S__, who watches even more. For R__, who I swear was checking me out. For D__, who wants to walk with me. For the folks on my site who share their food journals and their exercise diaries and who encourage not only me, but each other.
And for all of you, you wily ole Sparkers. For the Scandinavian and Floridian connections. For the Pi Phis. For the Quirk Universe. For the Done Girls and Guys. For the 80s Music Lovers. For the Yammies. For the Sudoku folks. For the Bostonians. For Red Sox Nation. For the Kind Buddies. For the many sweet people who've commented on my page and blogs, and who have inspired and pushed and cared for me (and for each other) on their own pages and blogs.
Who knows what the weigh-in after will bring? Maybe it'll all pay off. Maybe it won't. Maybe I won't be able to stick to it. Maybe I will, but there will be something unaccounted for. Maybe I'll stick to it and it'll be exactly as advertized. Maybe the exercise won't happen. Maybe there will be too much. Maybe a lack of rest or too much rest or sunspots or whoever wins the big football game will decide on how that goes. Take it as it comes. It's all you can do.
Because, on balance --
It's either sadness or euphoria ...