Thoughts on reaching goal

I officially reached it in the last month, haven’t thought too much about it.  The goal moved, before I even got here.  So now I’m about 15 pounds from new goal.  At my current rate of  around 2 pounds/month, it’ll take over a year.  This is how it goes when you want to lose weight, but aren’t willing to restrict very much, it’s just slow.  I’m trying not to care at this point, I’m getting interested in other things, looking for job, trying to find my way dating after a long break, figuring out who I am and what I want to do.

My whole life I’ve been so obsessed with weight, and weight loss.  That’s all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever been.  This is the first time since I hit adolescence that I’m not overweight, let alone obese.  Most of all, I mourn so many years spent obsessing and hating myself and my body, so that now I am a middle-aged woman whose biggest accomplishment is losing the weight.  Now I have to keep it off, and lose a bit more.  I’m not going to try to rush it now.

I am size 8, but I am keeping everything size 10 and smaller.  I hope that since I am not really a restrained eater, and mostly eat intuitively (or mindfully/normally), I will be able to roll with whatever life throws at me, and not regain much.  I haven’t binged in years, and don’t really overeat, nor undereat, very often.  I’m flexible in my eating in every regard, have no set anything.  Sometimes I eat two meals a day, sometimes 4 or more.  I’m not really scared of any food, not HFCS, MSG, gluten, dairy, saturated fat, white bread.  Some of these things I don’t eat very often, just because of the type of food that I eat, such as HFCS, trans fat.  I eat a lot because I exercise a lot, and I like it that way.  At this point, I’m only in the gym 2-3 days a week, I don’t think I’m overexercising.

I’ve quit smoking cigarettes, hardly think about them anymore.  I still smoke too much weed, will likely tackle that next, as soon as I decide what should be done about it.  Since most of the work I have left is mental/emotional, that’s really gotta go, at least habitual use.  It numbs me, so I feel little, don’t mind the emptiness of my existence as much.  Not sure where I’m going from here.

This is from a hike my neighbor and I did yesterday, to see some winter waterfalls.  Mt. Diablo, again, way out in the suburbs.

Too tired to be #*&^% with!

Tonight I went to a panel about Jewish delis, and if they had a future at all, let alone an environmentally sustainable one.  Two of the panelists ran a deli around the corner, one was Michael Pollan (he lives here), one had a radio show and a recent book, and one was an urban farmer in W Oakland, one of those very poor areas that they call food desserts, I think, all liquor stores and barbecue joints and churches, but no groceries or produce markets.   It wasn’t all that interesting, didn’t learn anything new, and I don’t like pastrami, corn beef, or huge meat sandwiches, grass-fed or not.  Just bacon, pepperoni, kielbasa, hotdogs.  Not a good Jew, apparently, which may be ok for an atheist.

Yesterday I finally went on a date.  We went hiking, then ate pizza/beer, then I seduced him.  All I’m going to really say is that it’s a whole lot better for stress relief and peace of mind than exercise.  Maybe I’d do better cutting back on exercise if I could do that regularly.   I got up and went to the gym anyway this morning, full autopilot, didn’t even occur to me until I was halfway there that I didn’t really feel like the gym.  I always go on Tuesdays at 11, kickboxing then strength training, and since I already paid bridge toll, I went anyway.

Walking back from the panel tonight, I am walking on the empty side of the street.  I notice a voice behind me, been there a while.  I don’t have the best hearing, and I can’t tell what she’s saying, though I hear a word occasionally.  I cross the street, she does too.  It sounds as if she’s about 10 feet behind me.  I start to speed up, and she does too.    I probably appear mildly drunk, I’m too tired to fully pick my feet up, and I stumble over raised sidewalks occasionally.   Every muscle in my body is buzzing from the gym, I don’t feel like walking fast, may not be able to outpace her, and don’t feel like hearing her anymore.  I turn around 180, walk back towards her.  She’s wearing a blanket over her head, can’t tell much about her.  She stops, looks really startled.  I scream right in her face, she takes a step back, and screams too.  For a second, I think she’s going to hit me, then she looks as if she thinks I’ll hit her.  “Look, you damn *%^#$, quit *(%^)))&Y&  following me.  And shut the hell up.”  She starts talking very loud about Berkeley bitches, but no longer follows me.  As I shuffle away, I still can’t understand her.

Today I weigh 147, even though I had a heavy breakfast, and hadn’t gone to bathroom yet.  The number is dropping again, maybe faster since I started cooking at home more.  The scale really isn’t sensitive enough to tell me what works or not, and I’m not consistent enough in anything.  But whatever, I’m officially not overweight by BMI, and I’m still losing.

Thanks. Please shut up now.

How nice of some of my friends to tell me how fat and disgusting I used to be.  OK, maybe not exact words, but I’m kinda stunned and a bit hurt to hear some of this stuff.    The first I actually heard a while back, when I was whining about never getting laid.  He now considers me acceptable, as his perceived cutoff limit is 20 pounds overweight, and I am within that range.  I’m only down about 10 pounds since writing that post when I was still unacceptable, but as I get closer, the weight changes are small, body changes are bigger.  I don’t know what my excuse is now, I’m still not getting any.  Apparently, there something besides weight going on.  Dammit, I was afraid of that, and I’ve suspected it for a while, though hoping it wasn’t true.  Damn damn damn. Never mind.

And then, there’s the ex-boyfriend.  He says he’s not really attracted to skinny women, though I’ve never known him to date anyone as big as I was.  He had a brief fling with a very large woman friend of his who was between girlfriends, but otherwise he’s into mildly chubby.   I don’t remember the context, but he said I should have no trouble dating, as I’m cute now.  Now that I’ve lost the weight.  Sigh.  I suppose I appreciate that he never claimed to not be attracted to me when I was big, but it’s weird to find out that he was lying the whole time.  A little big, but not too big.  I’m disturbed and irritated by this, not quite exactly sure why.  I’ll get over it, soon, maybe I’m just moody.  He quotes to me Bernie Mac “Hey black women-stop messing with your hair.  Hey white women- stop losing all that weight!”

As for that guy who thought I was good looking even at a higher weight, he just disappeared.  I thought the proper way to do this would be to disappear after he got me into bed, not before.  I don’t understand, but I’m not going to pursue him.  If he’s that dysfunctional, just as well.  Or maybe he just didn’t like my company in general.  I don’t know, though I’m disappointed.  Though maybe now that I don’t go everywhere with the ex, maybe I’ll meet someone else soon.  Or try internet dating.  Or figure out why I’m so screwed up.

In other news, over 3 weeks off ciggies.  I still have cravings, and then there’s the really nasty psychological part of the addiction.  This tells me that life isn’t worth living, the only thing that’s consistent and will make me feel better is a smoke.  I ignore this, but it is still very upsetting.  In theory, I feel I should be able to smoke occasionally, but reality shows that I just start again.  Quitting is physically uncomfortable and hugely disruptive to my life, I can’t stand doing it over and over.  So I ignore it, and I cry because I miss my cigarettes, but I don’t smoke.  I had a drink or two a few times in the last week or two, but I don’t dare in this stage.  Nor do I hang around with smokers.  I smell it all the time, but am indifferent, it’s no worse than car exhaust, crappy weed, b.o., or crack, better than dog poop, human poop from someone with digestive issues and no bathroom, or that nasty ammonia reek of old stale pee-pee (not so common with all the rain).    Oh Mission St, how I love thee-though you’re nasty.

I enjoyed a break from the rain, went to Pt. Reyes.  These elk were a lot more disturbed by me than the bobcat was.   That bobcat is probably used to ignoring people, it’s a lot more isolated on this end of the county.