Day One... I'm dead

So I have made a commitment to my online mom's group and will be doing the 30 day shred every day in September (except for the first. I didn't find the DVD until late afternoon.). I did it this morning. I thought I was going to die. At some points in the workout, I wanted to. It was 20 minutes of pure fucking hell.

But I did it!! I threw up twice, but I did it! I went to 7-11 afterwards and got a banana and a diet pepsi. I figured I had EARNED that pop. And to be honest, I threw up once I was in the shower. I can't quite describe how proud of myself I am. Not just for getting through it, but for doing it at all.

I woke up this morning around 7:30, which was so nice. No one was up yet. I figured that the kids would sleep until 8, and Pat won't wake up until the bomb goes off, so I was going to get up and get it done. You know, start the day off really shitty and then it gets better from there.

But that's not what happened. When I was in the bathroom, Veronica woke up and Pat went to go get her. As he did, Nathaniel woke up. Everyone was awake and my I-only-need-20-minutes-to-get-this-done was gone. I know me. There was no way I was going to exercise in front of Pat. (I think it's a fear that he will realize just how fat and unattractive I am and leave, although I know that won't happen.) But I hate it. I want the acknowledgement of pride from people, but I don't want them to see the ugly part. I brought back tons of teen years angst and a feeling of never being good enough. So I now had the perfect excuse to not do it. And I knew it!

Fate intervened and Pat went out to mow the lawn after breakfast. For a while, I sat on my ass watching tv (food network, ironically). But then I thought, he's outside, he won't know. So I put in the DVD. Nathaniel exercised with me for a while, which made me happy. He was having fun. He liked the butt kicks. He cracked himself up kicking his own butt. I love that he was excited.

So, later today, I am going to have Pat take some pictures of me as my before, God help me. October 1st, I will have him take some more, for after pics. I'm really looking forward to it. (And if I'm to tell the truth, mid October I will be going to my old school and seeing the teachers. I'd really love to be down some pounds by then. I want to know that I look great and I want to feel that I look great and I want them to acknowledge how good I am doing without them.)

So simple, but...

It's such a simple concept. but so very hard to master. Portion control.

But I'm getting there.

Now, it's not for lack of trying before, When I tried before it always ended in failure. I was hungry. And then I got mean. And then I got ugly. But there was always more food so it didn't matter. I could go have more.

And I did. Always. After filling my plate and gulping down my food, I wanted more. Didn't matter that my stomach was already over full and I was bloated. Didn't matter that I physically hurt from eating more. There was more food available and I wanted it. First world problem if ever, right?

And then I grew up and became a mom. I swore that I would take care of myself, for the sake of my kids. But there was still food available. And I wanted it. It didn't matter to me that I am diabetic. That my clothes didn't fit. That my kids would probably get made fun of because their mom is so fat. That I was slowly committing suicide by food. It was there and I wanted it.

And then I left my job, and stopped collecting a paycheck. Suddenly, a scary thought came to me. What if there isn't always more food? And even worse, what if there wasn't enough to feed my kids?

And portion controlling is becoming my way of life. I'm not sad about this. I'm actually happy. I make a lot of casseroles now. But there's so much in a pan. Old me would've left it on the table and picked at it all night long, consuming at least 3 servings, if not more. Now, I put some on my plate, serve the kids their dinner, and either put some on a plate for Pat (for later) or let him get his. When everyone is done eating (including seconds, I put way less on my plate now) I pack it up. It does not sit on the table.

Tonight, for example, was chicken spaghetti (from pinterest. It was only ok.) We ate about a third of the dish. The rest has already been packed into a dollar store tin with a lid and is cooling off before it goes into the freezer. So for the price of one dinner, we have two. I've done this with several casseroles and recipes I've made the past few weeks. It's something I am actually proud of.

So why am I telling you about this? Because in the last week I have lost 6 pounds. Now, when you have to lose a entire person, 6 pounds may seem like nothing. But to me, it's a pretty big fucking deal. I intend to make the most of this. It makes me want to do more. I am going to try to exercise now too. I wish I could just ride my bike, but without a trailer I can't. (What would I do with the kids?) I know that sounds like an excuse, but it's not. It's fact. But I'm going to try.

Because soon I want to type that I've lost 60 pounds, not just 6. It may take a while, but dammit, I've lost 6 pounds!

Down in the Dumps

I feel really down today. The fact that I can't sleep is really getting to me. I stop drininking pop by 2 pm, yet I can't sleep past 5. That's a good day. Lately, it's been 4 am that I wake up. Today it was 2:30. Two fucking thirty. I kept flopping around until 4:30, when I finally gave up.

Speaking of giving up, I am quite angry with myself about my weight. I have gained several pounds since being off school. This was supposed to be the summer of success for me. I just feel like a gigantic failure. Seriously gigantic.

We got some good news yesterday about Pat's job situation. I thought it would be great enough of a relief that I would start sleeping again, but I guess not.

Everything should be going well, but it's not. I am hoping that when I go out this morning, I can shake the blues. I would also really like it if I could stop feeling nauseous in the morning if I'm not pregnant. I hate that.