The Finish Line

Tonight at midnight, I will have successfully completed something I didn't think would be possible. I have gone one entire year without a single carbonated beverage, though I specifically targeted soda. My intention wasn't to go an entire year. I can't remember for sure, but I think I wanted to stop for a month. A month turned into two. Next goal was 100 days. One hundred days was close enough to four months. Which was close enough to six. And then I was afraid to have a soda. I had such a good streak going that I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. Six months led to seven and so on and so forth. I thought I would falter earlier this month when I was in Orlando, but I held strong and made it through without a sip. Along the way I've had many, many soda related dreams. The most recent was a couple nights ago in which I drank a can of Diet Coke even though I knew in my dream that I was only days from completing my task. Now the pressure is off and I can have a soda if I want. I've had a Diet Dr. Pepper sitting in my desk drawer at work since last September. I'm sure it's going to taste nasty if I try it. Tomorrow may be the day I can throw it away. I'm really proud of my accomplishment.


Last Sunday Of September

Today we planned on driving over to Massachusetts to spend the day with Ken's mother. Haven't seen her in a while and we were going to do our favorite activity with her.... Breakfast Brunch! Plans changed last night when she called to postpone until next weekend. Someone came up that she needed to do. I'm not complaining, either. I needed a day to do nothing. Really bad. Last weekend was with my family and I'm still recovering from that! What I should have done was sleep in. Instead, I set the alarm for 6:30 so that I could get up and go walking before the rain started. By 9am, I had not only walked for an hour, but I went grocery shopping and read the paper. I felt accomplished. I spent the rest of the morning playing online, even though I swore today was going to be a computer free day.

I really wanted to do two things this afternoon, and neither really happened. I wanted to make a dent in the pile of recent comics on my nightstand that keeps getting bigger and I wanted to take a nap. I only read two books and I managed to fall asleep for approximately ten minutes before Ken woke me up. So I don't think either goal counts as accomplished.

For dinner tonight we decided to find a place we've never been to before. We found a place online in Chatham, NY that looked interesting called Jackson's Old Chatham House. It was weird. We walked in and it was what looked like a redneck bar. At the back was the dining room. It looked like I had just walked into my mother's house. Flags and eagles and that kind of shit adorned the dining room, as well as taxidermied deer heads. A lot of them. But we didn't let that stop us. The menu featured entrees ranging from $15 to $30. I chose a seafood sampler plate which had a lobster tail, shrimp, scallops, steamers, muscles, scrod and something else. The plate was massive. Ken got one of the biggest plates of chicken parm I've ever seen in my life. The food was simply awesome and more than made up for the fact that I felt at any moment the rednecks from the bar were going to come back and beat the shit out of us. It's nice trying something new. The last new place we tried a couple weeks ago we've already been back to twice. Ken suggested we do this more often, rather than going back to the same old places over and over again. Plus it gets us out of the house, which is always a good thing.

Two nights ago I had my most vivid soda drinking dream yet. I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something. In the dream I had a can of Diet Coke and I didn't care.

Since it's Sunday, it's weigh in time. Second week in a row I scored a 193. I fought long and hard this week to try to drop a couple of pounds. I think I suceeded. Sure, I scored the same weight as last week, but for most of the week, I was higher than that. I'm so desperate to see that pre-vacation weight that it's completely consuming me and that's bad. It's funny, but my depressed rant about weight from the other day is completely insane. I'm more insecure about my weight now than when I was 300 pounds. Hell, I was completely content with myself when I was 300 lbs. Part of that may have been because my scale couldn't handle 300 lbs and lied to me, telling me I was 290. I'm kind of sick of being so hard on myself. I'm not going to let up much, but I need to realize I'm driving myself insane with the way I'm thinking. I need to be just hard enough on myself to keep myself on track. That's not asking too much, right? I'm still feeling rather full from dinner. I'm sure I'm going to see a number that will make me rage when I weigh myself before climbing into bed. Need to not rage too hard. And need to hope I see 197 (or less). Keep your fingers crossed.

Man, this is boring, isn't it? I feel bad for you if you made it all the way through this.

Survivor Gabon

For those of you who may have missed it on this week's episode of Survivor, here's the one thing they forgot to blur out.

Survivor: Gabon - Marcus Penis Flash Video - video powered by Metacafe


I'm Falling Behind....

I don't know where the time is going, but since vacation ended, I don't seem to be able to find enough time to do everything I need and/or want to. This is the second consecutive weekend where I've run out of time. I don't like it. I need a day of beauty and I need one now!!

I've got more chores I need to take care of, but before I do that, if you're reading this and I had your phone number in my phone, would you mind dropping me a quick email with your contact info again. I had to bring Oracle, my iPhone, back to the Apple store. My phone got super hot while talking on it today and I know that's not normal. I have a brand spanking new iPhone (suck on that, Eric. Now MINE is the newest again) but it doesn't have any contacts in it. Here we go again. So anyone sending me a text message, I'm not going to know who you are right away.

Alright, more chores before bedtime!


Well, It Didn't Kill Me...

I survived the visit to my parents' house. I knew I would, but I always dread it. The visit was fine, my brother actually showed up and we got along fine. I don't know if he's coming to my house on Saturday or not yet. I need to find out from him. But getting any info out of him is like pulling teeth. *sigh*

I've been having trouble shaking this vacation weight. Vacation pounds are supposed to melt off, right? Sunday I scored a 193 on the scale. I was thrilled by that and it was a huge surprise, too, because I've been mostly a steady 196 since getting home. Today, in fact, I was 195. I know it's foolish, but I'm not going to be happy until I can hit 190 again. It's crazy that I have so much self-worth locked up in seeing a specific number on the scale. I don't like this bit about me and I'm trying to work my way through it. One of the things I've been using as a tool in working through this is this picture (originally posted a couple days ago.)

I have a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that this is how I look now. I look at the man in that picture and I see someone who is thin. Someone who is of normal size. Someone I wish I looked like. In my head, I still look like this:

It's not right. I don't know why I can't revel in my accomplishment full-time. I don't know why I am continually so hard on myself.

I came up with an idea and I didn't prepare properly to carry out the idea. I wanted Ken to take pictures of me at Disney this year similar to ones in past years. Consider this before and after..

Or even this one from last September and this September:

I really hate the way I'm standing in the 2008 picture. I look retarded. Not severely, but retarded nonetheless. But I'm astounded at how different I look in the two pictures. But that's nearly a 40 pound difference.

Okay, enough whining and pissing and moaning. I'm thin, I look good and I just need to get over that and not care that the scale is telling me something other than what I want to see.



I'm a bad person. I already know it and I don't need to be reminded about it, though I often am. Case in point, my mother calls today. Whenever I know my mother has called, I do the same thing. I cringe and then wonder what she wants. Then I call her back and realize that I really don't have much to say to her. I know that's really bad, but it's true. Talking to most anyone in my family is painful for me. We are not great articulaters and communication is something we are poor at. So image what a phone conversation between us would sound like.

Anyway, Mom calls today and tells me my brother is on his way down from Canada to spend the week. I find this odd because the conversation I had with my brother last week was a different story. In that version, he was on his way down shortly and would be leaving this weekend to go back home, not coming this weekend. He was going to spend the week with my parents and then come up here tonight, stay the night and head home tomorrow. This pisses me off because the plans we had for this weekend had to be postponed until next weekend. Now I guessing he still wants to keep his plans of staying here. I don't know if that's going to be possible now.

So back to Mom's call. She calls me today to ask if I want to come to dinner tomorrow. Again, this is me being a bad person, but I hate shit like this. If you want me to come to dinner tomorrow and you knew this version of the travel plans, why are you waiting less than 24 hours to spring this invitation on me? I hate last minute plans like this. Hate them. I don't like surprises. Now my Sunday afternoon of leisure is shot to hell. Instead I'm going to be socializing with my family and I'm still not convinced my brother is even going to show up. He's got an infamous history of making plans to come visit and then never showing up, no matter how many times he promises this time is different. Apparently he's coming down here with someone he and his wife have taken in. A ward of the state or something. I have no idea who this person is. The wife is staying home.

So think good thoughts for me tomorrow while I'm in the smoky den called my parents house. And just imagine how much more I'm going to sound like Brenda Vaccarro after I leave there. (Seriously, they smoke so much that I'm going to have a sore and scratchy throat for two days after leaving there.)



It's been a long day. I don't know why I'm not curled up in bed with a pile of comics and bad reality tv right now. I got up extra early this morning. I wanted to be in to work by 6:30. I normally start at 8:30, but I had stuff piled up on my desk I wanted to get done. Plus, Thursdays are the beginning of our work week and if I'm going to get in any overtime, I like to try to get as much of it in on Thursday as possible. Just a pattern I have developed over the years. I wasn't going to be able to stay late tonight because I told a co-worker I'd help her move tonight. Turns out that I could have stayed late tonight. She ended up not needing me. I know this probably sounds terrible, but I was relieved. As much as it's the right thing to do, I really didn't want to do it. I'm a selfish fuck, but I know I am. I don't know if that makes it right or not (I'm sure it doesn't), but she knows I'm a selfish fuck, too. So I stayed just a little while later and then headed home. And writing this just makes me remember that I was supposed to go do something for her at work before I left and it totally slipped my mind. Dammit. Tomorrow's another day.