day two


Well, not only headache. I have a headache and I’m hot. It’s always warm in the office, I’m just having hot flashes.

Really body. Only 41. You can stop with the private summers. I don’t like this at all.

Headache. And queasy. But feeling good.

day one

Okay. Here we go. I’m up and awake. I’m showered and dressed. I have errands to run. I’ve had a glass of water and my green smoothie (which wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be).

I’m sitting here typing.

Day one is always daunting. We all have them, there are day ones happening all over the world right now. People are starting jobs, starting school. They’re meeting people. They’re starting blogs. They’re starting their lives over.

So here I am. Day one. My workout is set for 5:30. I’ve emailed the nutritionist (both the one at the gym and the one who works with my eating disorder). I haven’t written in my paper journal yet – but I figure that’s something I can do when I get back from working out. Kind of recap how I feel, so I can remember how hard it was when it gets easier then hard again (that’s what she said)

(I make a lot of dick jokes and use a lot of parentheticals. It’s a style choice.)

Okay. Doing the thing I forgot to do already– blood sugar, diabetes medicine, multivitamin. It’s a work in progress.


Here goes nothing

Well, here we are again. I feel like every year or so, I do something like this. I start a blog I’m sure will be abandoned shortly.

Somehow this is different.

A little bit about me and my current situation. I’m a wife – my husband is a brilliant and sometimes infuriating man (which I’m sure most women would say about their significant others). We don’t have kids, for a multitude of reasons – the biggest of which is that we didn’t want to be parents, but we do have a cat (who, much like her ‘mom’ is an emotional eater) and two dogs (who, also like their mom, are as cute as they are stubborn and stupid). I’m a full-time graduate student, working on a degree in Educational Leadership. Half the time I don’t use capital letters. I work full time at a university which is amazing, but also a garbage fire right now – it’s a state school in Illinois, Illinois has no budget, no budget means no funding, no funding means cutting things all over the place — welcome to my garbage fire.

I’m fighting an eating disorder. Mostly binging without purging, or just, not eating because I’m already heavier than anyone should be. According to all doctors everywhere, I am morbidly obese. At 41 years old and sitting at a hefty 330 lbs (which is down from my highest weight which hovered in the almost 400 range), I know things have to change.

Problem is, I don’t know if I love myself enough to change things.

I’ve been in therapy for the better part of a decade. The last year, once we started actually talking about my eating disorder and all the distorted thinking that goes along with it, it started being more helpful. Harder, but more helpful none the less. It’s depression and anxiety (both of which are dirty fucking liars), all of the negative self-talk and negative self-image. The constant waiting for my husband, my friends, my colleagues to realize that I’m a horrible fraud, and no one should love me or want to be my friend at all.  All of that for a million reasons, the biggest of which is the size of my ass.

330 lbs. More than football players and WWE Superstars. But it’s me. All of it.  330 lbs and diabetes. 330 lbs and still fighting a fucking eating disorder which makes me want to eat everything and nothing all at once.

Tomorrow is May 1st, and I will try and reset my life again.

I’m doing one of those 30 day bootcamp things. Now I know, this could be a horrible idea with the eating thing. I’m talking to my doctor (another new doctor) about it. I’m talking to the in-house nutritionist at the gym. I’m talking to my therapist about it.

I need to do something for me. I don’t want to fall apart before I turn 45. I’ve got so much more to do. People to see, friends to annoy, lives to change.

I just have to start with mine.