Uncomfortable

Un-comfort-able.

I am in a "i can't be consoled" mood. For the last two days, I have been particularly prickly. The driver dropped me on the left, not the right side of the street, someone who had approval to charge my Amex didn't call me to tell me he was going to, I keep asking for everyone's manager/supervisor, "don't you know who I am" etc etc.

I am a total princess. A prickly prickly princess.

Today-- I walked over to the tasti-delite which has fat free fro-yo. And got a small. And then got a couple sugar free chocolates. And ate three, and then got sick on the subway. Prickly princess got pissy when the cute boys that were talking moved to rating celebrities. One comment too many and prickly princess, rather than shutting up and getting off at her stop, ate another sugar free chocolate. Then gave them to her diabetic landlady "look what I bought for you".

After eating a reasonable meal, and then the fro yo, I sat in the living room thinking I was uncomfortable. Not a feeling, physically, but emotionally. I am uncomfort-able. No one can comfort me. Nothing can comfort me. Food-- no-- sleep-- not really. Walking around-- not really.

Hmm.

I'm giving myself through this vacation to shake it off. And after, I am back to water, workouts, vitamins and meals on schedules. With none of this extra holiday crap.

Overall, I ate pretty well. Protein first. Some salad/veggies. Vitamins. But the peanut brittle and the toffee. "For the kids" as my mom said. In the kitchen. In Connecticut. The kids are in North Carolina.

There is so much anger there. "I'm going to slap your hands if you eat another piece". Then don't put it out. Don't tempt me and then punish me for eating what is terrible for me. Don't think that baking is going to bring this family together, that the perfect meal will make things all better, that I will be good, he will start listening, she will be less vindictive and he will be less angry. Don't think for one second that if you do it perfect, it will all come together and it will be perfect.

Because it never was. And it never will be.

It's scary to think my mom is one of those WLS'ers that has woken up to her life and has a husband who has been right there for her all along and she is disappointed and critical of him. "He's an old man". No, you married a 21 year old 38 years ago. Who has been patiently waiting for the last 27 years for you to want to be active and love him, and he you, and to do things together-- travel and dream and dance and show each other off. And you have gotten incredibly uncomfortably comfortable with each other. And now, give him a chance to catch up, because he will.

And the idea of my parents breaking up kills me. And I don't think it will happen, but it's all right there-- right? People fall out of love. People move on. And if they break up, I can't pick up the pieces of my broken father without weeping. Without hating her more than I do for her putting roadblock after roadblock up. Stop giving me your clothes that are too big. And making me try them on. And I don't want anything from you.

Except I want my mom. And I want you to want to hug me, and stop trying to buy me. Just love me. I may never get skinny. This is not a fucking competition. Stop treating like such. It kills me that you won't show your vulnerable side. That's the squishy-ness we keep trying to remember that's underneath the prickly thorn throwing darth vader you show to us.

Just fucking let me love you. Let him love you. Slow down. Take a breath. Stop worrying. And really, if you smack my hand, I swear to Christ, I may punch you square in the mouth.

Christmas is for giving. Forgiving.

I'm sitting here listening to Christmas music on one of the local stations that play Holiday music from Turkey day till that baby is born. And I just had the coolest flashback.....

Two years ago I was head over heels in love with this guy. And planning to move to, of all places, Buffalo. Thank god for small small favors, I didn't and have my perfect job, a really great life, but that's not this post.

This post is about opening eyes to something new.

At the end of December in 2005, I took this guy to his first concert. It was an interesting thing to be an adult, over thirty, and taking someone to their first concert. Because all that kid stuff comes back-- the excitement, the anxiety, the noise, the fanfare. So it wasn't the coolest concert-- we are not talking Guns and Roses or Motley Crue, or even RadioHead or the Dixie Chicks, or Garth (ahh, Garth-- I love you). It was the Trans Siberian Orchestra. And it was just after Christmas, and it was perfect.

We had floor seats, we were dressed appropriately. The lights dimmed, and he started to move in his seat, wiggling back and forth to see the stage better. The first riff of the guitar, and his eyes lit up. "This is the coolest".
At some point, there was snow over most of the audience on the floor. Like a kid he stuck out his tounge. "Soap".
Then the lasers started. "This is so amazing. Thank you."

The music was good. It was Christmas music, with that guitar and rock opera feel to it. It was awesome to see couples of all ages enjoying a concert in that huge stadium. We held hands, we smooched, and we were transformed into a little coccoon of wow together. Like two little kids discovering Santa. I knew at that moment that we would be forever linked. And we are.

I miss you but not in the way I should. I miss seeing the soft underbelly of your vulnerability, of me showing you my vulnerable side, me being able to put a smile on your face without taking my clothes off. I miss those first wow moments, and wouldn't ever give those up, regardless of the other wow moments that lead to the disinigration of us. Every time I hear that Christmas guitar riff, no matter how cheesy I think it to be, my heart warms up a little bit. Because I know you are still a little kid inside all that other stuff. Wherever you are.

Merry Christmas. Thank you for opening my eyes to something new and completely unexpected. For-giving. Forgiving. Forgivness. Which turns around to joy for the holidays.

I can only say this.....because I need you too.

This seems like the best forum to do this. I have a varying group of friends that for whatever reason are stuck in different areas-- work, career, job, relationship, love, housing, life, etc.... and I want to say something to each of them, but collectively. And when they come to this place to read it, it will be like a little note just for each of them, something that they would normally find on their windshield, under their doorstep, on their desk chair, or in a discarded Christmas card.

Here goes.

Hi. I know it's really scary right now. Things are dark, and you really don't want to look at them, don't want to shine any light on the situation, because knowing how big the problem is right now is scarier than anything you have or haven't done about the problem. But consider this, it's not really a problem. It's just your life. You choose every day how to live it.

My darkest day was realizing that I might die from obesity. That because the way I've been going, I might get sick, have a heart attack on my couch and no one would be able to help me. That no matter what I would never be something different than what I have always been. And you know me, I would lose a couple pounds, and then put it back on with a vengeance, become comfortable yet again with the old habits. But those old habits destroyed me, my hope, my adventure, my spirit and were very close to destroying my life. I may have had 20 years left to live a life of great phone conversations, internet surfing and solitude, hoping that something might show up on my door.

Here's what I have to say to you. I love you. I really do. I want you to be happy. Stop looking for happiness as if it exists outside yourself. Get real with your situation, shine some light on those dark corners of whatever problem or anxiety you may be facing. I will be right there holding your hand, not judging but loving you. I remember letting myself feel scared and sad and alone, and then I took myself into action about it. Let yourself feel the emotion, the pain. I promise you, you will not shatter, you will not break. You will not step over into crazy to never appear again. You will be strong, you might be overwhelmed, but you will have the ability to tackle whatever it is you need or want to tackle.

I promise to keep having conversations with you that make you mad, that have you want to run away, that get you upset. I am not judging you. I just can no longer be the Kim that soothes everything with food. I can no longer get ice cream or treats or late night sammiches, or cocktails over problems. I've changed, and I can't be numb anymore. I want you to have the life you want, and whatever that is, I am standing for your ability to have it. In doing so, those difficult conversations are going to come up and it's going to suck sometimes, and truly, you will probably not like me because I will keep mentioning it over and over. Because if it's weighing on your mind, why not tell me, your friend, your sister, your confidant about it? You do not have to go through all of this alone.

Repeat.

You do not have to go through this all alone.

Now repeat it until you understand and feel it.

Now I love you. Now I love you and forever I love you. Tied together like three-legged racers, lean on me, let's find a cadence and speed we can work together on, and I will lean back. Because I need you too.

The Kim that Ate Tokyo

It seems my hunger has returned. Waaaahhhh!!!! I was hoping I'd be one of those "I'm never hungry again" people who dump on sugar and fat and milk and cheese and everything but protein powder and fibersure. However, I guess I am one of the lucky ones.

Lucky-- but how? Well, I can have two bites of cake. I can eat one cookie (or seven, depending on how long it takes). I can have a ground hamburger, no bun, and not feel like I am going to die. I can eat a piece of pizza and not feel like I am being deprived at all. Here's where the tools of this being WLS comes in.... I get to choose.

Wait, choose? No no no-- no choosing. We want our food to be spooned to us by a nurse for the rest of our lives, with punishment handed out and with shock treatments when we drink water too close to having eaten. We want big brother over our shoulder. Choosing is equivalent to death. Choosing is what got us here in the first place. I chose Wendy's and Del Taco (mmm, del taco) and cakes and cookies and pies and bread and jam and all the things I love. I chose to have dinner parties for three, invite no one and consume the entire meal by myself. Usually in one sitting. In front of the TV. Wanting more.

Oh oh oh, here's a sneaky trick I used to do. When I obviously ordered enough food for Ethiopia-- (do they like Italian?) I would say to the non English speaking delivery man-- hang on, my boyfriend has to get the money. Then I would close the door, and pull money out of my wallet and say "Honey, dinner's here!" and then pay the guy. I wonder if the delivery guy saw that before as he was making his tour of lonely fat girl specials (extra cheese, more garlic, one coke), or wondered why that lazy boyfriend never helped with the meal collection (an entire pizza, pasta and a salad balanced precariously on my hip as I paid). Obviously, there was never a boyfriend, because really who would date this scrunchy bunned, flannel jammied, ice cream dripping mess that was me.

There's the good bit. It was me. Was. So I ate Tokyo. Like D said, it needed to go. But I came back a pound and half lighter. I didn't totally over indulge. I make choices that I make. I now know, when I am tired, it is not time to eat. When I am hungry, I need to drink water, because it's not hunger, it's thirst. I have to get all that water in every day. And since my hair is leaving a trail all over mid-town, eat 70 grams of protein a day.

And choose to do it. Choose. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll really see collarbones and a size 20 pant by Christmas.

Oh, and it's time to go to the gym and work off Tokyo. And sleep for jimminy crickets. I have TERRIBLE jet lag!

Godzirra

I ate like a fiend in Tokyo. I ate my way through tofu, seafood, chicken and some not so sweet sweets. I drank cafe lattes like they were on a fire sale.

I only lost 1.5 pounds in a week. Because I ate my way through Tokyo. I am so close to being in twosville it's painful. So stinking close.

I feel like Godzirra. More on that later.

I ate this temple right after I took this picture. I finished it off with some sugar coated fried rice snacks. And ate the photographer.

Then I had some miso soup and a nap. Ahh, Godirra!