Being semi-off a plateau, but not thrilled about that, and being less than happy when Summer begins, are two things that really should cause the universe to scream out and say, "Why, you ungrateful wretch!"
Well, yah. Duh.
I had over a month of plateauing, so three weeks ago I decided to change things up. The first week, I lost. Second week, I regained almost 2/3 of that (let's blame TOM). This week, I lost more, gained the ground from the first week and surpassed it. Lowest numbers yet!
Yet I was and am less than happy. Huh?
And then, well, today, I was getting dressed for work, and I figured, what the hell, and pulled on a pair of size 10 pants. Now, they stretch (thank you, Lee Jean/Pant/whatever company). And I have a mini-muffin top going on. But they fit, and I can tuck my shirt and not feel like I look like golfer John Daly pre-stomach stapling surgery (Google his pics, if you dare. Don't say you haven't been warned).
And I was okay with that, certainly not unhappy, but not turning cartwheels. Plus I got some lovely comments, here and on my site and on Facebook, about new pics, new milestones hit, etc.
I should feel fantastic.
Yet I am, well, I'm okay.
I guess some of it is just from it being still a tough slog. Or from it being, well, months away even if my current weight loss rate remains relatively constant. Or from having sent a note to a Plastic Surgeon, and wondering how all of that is going to go down. There is a finish line out there, and I can kinda, sorta see it. And it excites me and frightens me, all at the same time.
Everyone tells me I should feel amazing. And I do feel better. But it's not always perfection. There are plenty of down days. So I've started taking St. John's Wort again, something I thought I'd never do in the Summer as I love the Summer. But it's been cold as hell for weeks. I doesn't feel like Summer. It feels like gnarly, chilly, wet, stinky late Autumn. You know, when the trees are bare and the sky is the color of a battleship and you start seeing snow shovels and rock salt for sale? Yeah. It's felt like that. And I've gotten all of the attendent internal feelings that go along with it.
Not so easy to admit to myself that I am so affected, but I am. They call it Seasonal Affective Disorder, and it makes sense in January. But in June it just seems like so much ingratitude. Like my body and my mind don't know what the heck is happening but are dragging the me part along for the ride. And I don't want to go, but I'm strapped in anyway.
So forgive me if I am not turning cartwheels, and I seem ungrateful and strange, and aloof and remote, and even with an optimistic song -- for I do feel that as well -- some of it is also a slight bit of, well, believe it or not, sorrow. I have said before that I don't know who I am any more. And sometimes I don't, and that is hard to take. I identified in this manner, as an oh so big person, for so very, very long. It is hard to break out of that.
************ Quick Interlude To Talk About Numbers And Do The Month In Review Thing
151.4 lbs. off since January of 2008. Down from size 28 to size 10, more or less officially.
Measurements are decent, at or close to most personal best levels. Energy levels are good. Getting hit on, on occasion, which amuses me. Able to handle the hunger. Able to change things up enough to hack away at a plateau, even if the hacking is imperfect. Size 10 pants, size 7 panties, mediums all over the place. All systems more or less a go. ************
And now here's where I really show how strong my geek hand is:
In the book, _2001_ (not the movie!), Sir Arthur C. Clarke talks about the ape-men and the effect that the monolith is having on them. And he wrote the most extraordinary thing. He wrote, "The very atoms of his simple brain were being changed." And that's what is happening to me. On an atomic level, hell, let's go for broke, on the subatomic, quark and meson level, I am going through alterations. The electrons are being made to bang a uey and my consciousness is kinda losing its way a little. No wonder I've got identity issues; the whole shooting match is being changed up. Over, under, sideways, down.
I do hope that's coherent and I don't sound any wackier than, well, than usual.
I appreciate your kindnesses more than you may know. And I do feel good, mostly. But there's still that pain that comes from flipping around the neurons. All I can tell you is that I am sure that I do believe. Not just in plateau-busting and in Spark and in the powers of exercise and diet and positive thinking. But in that person who looks back at me when I glance in a mirror.
Whoever the hell that is.