What’s Going Through That Head of Mine…

Hey my friends! I promised to be more consistent with my writing, but that seems like another promise broken. Like cleaning my house. Like being a better mom. Like being a better wife. Like a million other things.

What’s up with that?

I’ll tell you; I am a slacker. A lazy, stupid f*ck. There are no excuses, no explanations other than that. Who’s to blame for all of that? ME!!!

I know you’ve read all this before, but everything I write is still true. Again? Still? It’s still.

I promise myself–every day–that I will go home and attempt to change my hovel into a pleasant environment that I want to show others. A house that will be a home and not a house. Every day I think this…I plan this…I strategize to make this happen. And what gets in the way?

ME!

I promise myself–every day–that I will not eat. I seriously tell myself that. I feel so accomplished when I successfully resist my urges and desires and weaknesses to do this. Sometimes I can and sometimes I can’t. I promise myself–every day–that if (OK, when) I f*ck up I will purge and make my body pure and feel so accomplished. Do I keep my control? Hardly. And the reason I don’t?

ME!

Are we noticing a theme here? Of course, my fantastic blog readers. I am a lazy f*ck. How can a grown adult (OK, that is so questionable) set a goal and do nothing to achieve it. It is not a matter of trying and failing. It is a lack of effort. A lack of control. A lack of discipline. And why is that?

ME!

Forgot My Snappy Title

My dear and faithful blog readers, I had a super awesome title and topic for today’s entry. I know you are thinking, “Momsgotproblems, ALL of your entries are terrific!” So my NEW focus today will be on forgetfulness. In my case convenient forgetfulness.

When I got on the scale this morning, it was evil, terrible, disgusting, horrible…you get the point. I’m not surprised why the numbers were beyond what any human being should weight, but it is painful to see anyways. Since I am bingeing out-of-control, one could argue that I am “forgetting” my desire to restrict/fast/purge (in several ways). I, myself, wonder about my motivation; am I intentionally forgetting what I want to do…need to do? Am I encouraging my lack of control for some subconscious reason? If you were my shrink or my therapist, you would probably say, “Momsgotproblems, of course that is what is going on.”

I look around at my house, and I realize that each and every room is beyond eyesore-ish and a huge, shameful embarrassment. And what do I do about it? Conveniently “forget” my self-imposed commitment to clean up. I plan during each day to do this, and yet when push comes to shove, I do nothing.

My control is non-existent. I wallow in my disappointment at failing to have control in any single aspect of my life.

I clearly “forget” what I need to do and kick my control to the curb.

Am I happy about this? No.
Do I do anything about this? No.

Pathetic doesn’t even begin to describe me.

Frustration!

Ok friends, I am seeking advice. I fasted all of Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday I broke down, was weak, and ate close to 600 cals. I figured the scale would not go up, but I lost NOTHING.

As in ZERO!
As in WHAT THE F*CK????????

Yeah, I know the deal with my body holding on to the calories and blah, blah, blah. But how the H-E-Double L am I going to accept it?

Really? Really!

HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Movin’ On Up! (And Not in the Jefferson’s Good Way)

For any of you that do not get my title, clearly you are not watching retro tv. For my dear readers who understand my entry title, you understand what I am going through right now. Let me explain so everyone is clear.

In the old series The Jefferson’s (and it is intentional that I did not punctuate the title of the show because technically shows get underline and every time I try to do that, I mess up my posts–remember, English teacher here), the Jefferson’s have “arrived” and broke the racial barrier of success. They moved from a less desirable neighborhood (they lived near the Bunkers, nuf said) and into a shwanky high rise building; as they say in the title song, “a dee-luxe apartment in the sky.”

And that is where I come in…I’m “movin’ on up.” No, I’m not proud of my relocation, if you will (and you will, right?) because the numbers are the things that are hitting the sky?

Whose fault?
Mine?
ED’s?

Is there a difference?

I like to blame ED and take the responsibility away from me. Nice try, Momsgotproblems; the responsibilty–are lack thereof–is mine all mine.

Lately I have not tried. Well I can SAY I’ve tried, but honestly, is a half-*ss effort trying? And yes, my friends, that question is rhetorical.

What is holding me back? My laziness. I hate my cow-like appearance and my gargantuan weight, but I binge like food will cease to exist tomorrow…ooh, my dream come true!

I was looking through the pictures stored on my phone and holy sh*t! I am a f*cking mountain. The images don’t lie, and without any touch-ups I resemble a big, horrible blob. (Resemble? Nah. AM!)

I am going to take action. Today is a fast day. An “off” day. I’ve tried this recently–like every day ending in “day,” and have failed miserably.

I am going to rely on the power of ED…hopefully the no eating part of ED. I want to channel that part of ED and demonstrate self-control. I am not an errant child; I am an adult–well currently it would be more appropriate to say I am two adults.

I am going to “move on up” and step up to be the best bulimic I can be.

And weight? You better move the f*ck down!!!!!

Happy New Year!

Um, Moms, New Years? I know what you are thinking…”Moms, we KNOW you have issues and are crazy, and well, you are, you know, oozing problems; now you can’t read a calendar? The official New Year starts January 1st at midnight. If you want to pop on a kippah, you could say the New Years starts…[pause as you consult the calendar app on your phone] starts at the beginning of next week.

“Momsgotproblems, What the f*ck are you talking about? Happy New Year?

Let me give you the skinny. (Ha, ha, HA! Like that is even POSSIBLE to put on the same page as me. I should say “Let me give you the big, fat, disgusting, cow-like, gigantic, huge, nauseating, obese.”)

I’ve been meaning to write to you, my loving (you ARE loving, right?) reader. I really wanted to write this specific entry seven days. The date was Tuesday, September 4, 2012.

And that date changes my life, Momsgotproblems, because…?

Well it doesn’t. Well I think it doesn’t change yours, but it signifies the possibility of a fresh start for me. The start of school.

All summer/Memorial Day/vacation/f*cking ______________(fill in the blank) I kept saying that I was going to start and lose weight. I was going to employ whatever tools that I had in my bag-o-tricks to have the poundage peel off.

Eat sensibly, exercise, get enough sleep, blah, blah. Ha. Like I’m going to do that.

Restricting, Fasting, Purging, Laxing (Taking laxatives to non-bulimics, but personally I think it is an easier and more flow-y way to say it), Rexing (Ok, that one I made up and I have never, ever heard anyone else use that abbreviation because it is…interesting. Personally if we can say “laxing,” why isn’t there a way to say taking diuretics. I tried other shorted versions that you will see just didn’t work–dieing, retting, wetting, ticking; hence rexing was born.).

Hello ADHD running wild!!!! Wait, let me re-read what the hell I was reading.

OK. All the sh*t I talked about above is my version of the blah, blah, blah people talk about as the “right” way to lose weight. Sure, if I wanted to spend the rest of the days with my own hair following a “sensible” plan, perhaps I would go from being a f*cking obese inhuman moose to a f*cking fat disgusting cow. (Well fat is better than obese, and a cow is better than a moose, right?) Anyway, you get the point.

Now if you have followed my wonderful, humorous, honest, and all-around best thing you have ever read in your entire life, you know that even though I want to stick with the “purging” stuff–whatever the purge du’jour is. But I screw up. Regularly. Always. In big, huge, mother-of-all mistakes screw ups.

I binge. (Betcha didn’t see that one coming.) I hate bingeing. More than anything. I feel weak and stupid and guilty and out-of-control, gutless, waste of space, fat, useless blob. I undo everything I had worked so hard to achieve!

But September 4, 2012 was my New Year; my fresh beginning. Have I been perfect? Yeah, right. Last week from Tuesday morning to Friday morning I was five pounds down! The only thing I remember eating was Thursday night my screwing up by eating pretzels and too many cookies, so by some kind of miracle I still lost the last pound, thus making up the total. I don’t think I ate the other days; I seriously can’t remember.

And then came the weekend. Can we say F*CK-O-RAMA???? Ate whatever. Didn’t really matter and I didn’t really matter. Well I did. A lot. But oh well. As soon as I took that first forbidden bite I had undone all of my fasting for the week. I deserved to be punished. And the best way to do that? Eat more. Binge.

Monday morning, get on the scale. I knew the numbers would not be easy to look at. I knew the weight would be so much higher than my pre-weekend weight; I just didn’t know how much of a disaster I caused. Bad, but not above where I was when I started my new year. Really, really close, but still down. Only by one. Still really sucked. Three days of starvation–well except for the pretzel/cookie screw up on Thursday night–to only lose one pound.

So we come to this week (be thankful I’m not going hour by hour!) and so far I’m down four pounds. Yes 4! I would be lying if I didn’t say I was psyched! Mostly fasted Monday but screwed up at night–ate dinner and then junk fooded it with a binged (how I lost is one of those crazy lunar-eclipse things). Tuesday I fasted; I can’t remember eating anything. And today I am sans food. Hopefully the scale will be nice.

Will it continue? Will I screw up over the weekend? Will I screw up before the weekend? Can I keep lying my way out of dinners? Is this the New Year that I really turn it around, lose the massive amount of weight I need to lose, and FINALLY gain a modicum of control?

I f*cking hope so!

Choices, Choices

So I’m sitting here, cruising facebook–oh, and speaking of facebook, all of you, my faithful readers, should get everyone on your contact list to read and follow my blog…I’m just sayin–so I’m cruising facebook and eating a plum. A really, really juicy plum. A mighty yummy plum. OK, so I’m not hungry, but when has that stopped me before? But here is the amazing thing:

I made a choice.

Um, Moms, you didn’t mention another option, ergo there is no choice. Hold on, my friends (at this point we are friends, right?), I’m getting the other thing that was equally within easy grasp.

See, in my kitchen I have two counters that are directly opposite each other. On one counter there is a bag of plums. On the other counter is a milky way candy bar, one of my favorites that I bought one week ago. (The one and ONLY reason I haven’t already eaten it was I left it in my husband’s car. Why he didn’t eat it is the million dollar question.) Anyway…

Candy bar on counter A, plum on counter B. I took the plum. The fact that I’m not really hungry is not the reason because that has never stopped me before. The fact that I’ve already eaten a ton today (surprise dear reader, I haven’t; maybe some alien force from the planet “Don’t Eat-A-Lot” has taken over my body) is not the reason because that also has never stopped me before. Yadda, Yadda, Yadda, I don’t know why.

Will it happen the next time?
Will I be good or bad?
Is the plum the start of a long-term relationship?

Or is it a one-night-stand?

I’m still Heeeeeeeere!

Hi blog readers. Miss me? Of course you did? Sorry I have been MIA. Does that mean nothing has been happening in my life? Hardly. Rather the opposite.

Too much is going on. So much I can’t keep up with my own life. “With what?” You may ask. May ask? You are asking. With dear old Mags, with Seth, with Double and Robbie (or was it Bobbie? Who the f*ck remembers). With visits to my therapist–oh, now I’m twice a week crazy.

And with ED. Sorta. Huh?

He’s kinda been leaving me alone. To binge. But by leaving me alone, he’s not. I’m bingeing. So here’s the question: Am I acting under my own free will and choosing to be self-destructive? Or is this part of ED’s master plan?

What is this disconnect between what I ultimately want and failure to do what it takes to achieve it?

Am I my own obstacle?
Or is it ED?

ED and Stress: Friends or Foes?

Ok, so my life is stressful. Yeah, yeah, I know what you are thinking. “Momsgotproblems, EVERYONE has a stressful life, so what makes yours unique?”

Well, I guess nothing. Lately however, I have reached my threshold of stress, and yet it keeps coming! I feel like I have fallen off a racing boat speeding through the Atlantic Ocean without a lifejacket. And as I spew salty water, gasp for air, and rely on my rusty tread-water technique that I learned in summer camp umpteenth thousand years ago, I see, off in the distance what looks like an old water-logged plank. Why there would be a plank in the ocean is beyond me, but there is! Anyway as I use some kind of crawl/doggie paddle/flailing stroke, I manage to reach the board and can just barely keep my head out of the frigid water.

And then I see the wave. Now we are not talking average, run-of-the-mill, ocean wave that naturally crosses the water. We are talking the mother of all waves. The wave that Poseidon unleashes when he destroyed whatever city he did in the beginning of “Clash of the Titans” movie starring Harry Hamlin. (If you have never seen that movie you SO have to see it!) Anyway… My trusty rotten board flies away from me and I am once again left sputtering. And then the ocean liner. Now on “The Love Boat” (What’s with me and the reference to old visual entertainment?) the cruise ship glides gracefully through the ocean barely disturbing the water. (Incidentally, on the cruise ship other things also “glide gracefully.”) Well the ship I encounter stirs up quite a wake that actually throws the life jacket off my body. And then the ship backs up again and does it again!

OK, once again, My metaphors have taken over this entry. But I hope you can connect the dots and show that the stress which is keeping me up at night and occupies my thoughts/feelings during the day is heavy. Too heavy to get into here, but let’s just say things with Margaret have gone from terribly horrible to unbelievably abysmal.

How am I handling it? Not well. Or well. I guess it depends upon how you look at things. Usually ED makes me binge. It’s a non-stop food fest in my own hands. I hate it, and feel weak, and out of control.

That is handling it not well.

This time around–the swimming, wave, “Love Boat” thing–I am not able to eat. Even when I want to eat I am manage to fight off the urge. Well twice so far this week I have given in and eaten. They were what I consider “mini-binges.” Not normal, still more than I want; hell, even “not normal” for me. But these mini binges haven’t caused any damage. Well today is Friday and I consumed food Monday and Wednesday. No. My goal is not to eat today.

Nada. Nothing. Nyet.
I have to fight off the hunger no matter what.

Now back to the question at hand (ya know, the one asked in the question): what is the relationship between ED and Stress?

I find in my usual bingeing self believing that ED and stress are FOES. Stress piles on top of ED and then ED piles on top of me in the form of food. FOES!!!!

But when are they friends? Now. Stress (and its neighbors: guilt, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and let’s not forget his new roommie frustration) is practically killing me. ED has decided to allow me a modicum of happiness. He is allowing me to restrict. Fast. Whatever you want to call it.

I call it very, very cool because I finally broke a “number barrier.” A what? Huh? A number something? In this case the barrier means that my weight has gone from 19,490 lbs to 19,489 lbs. See what I mean? I’m out of the “90’s” and into the “80’s.” Essentially every 10 lbs (but not from where I started). Get it? Of course you get it!

That is all thanks to ED. And Stress. And their (currently) sympathetic partnership. They are FRIENDS.
And if I have ED in my life (he’s in-it-to-win-it) and I must have Stress (and I mean crazy, hot-mess stress) I want them to remain FRIENDS.

I need all the friends I can get.

My Commentary on Gnarls Barkleys’ Song “Crazy”

Have any of you ever seen MST3K? What the heck does that stand for, Moms? That was one of the funniest sci-fi shows I watched in college in the mid-90’s. The acronym stands for Mystery Science Theater Three Thousand. Now let me fill you in on a little secret; well it’s not really a secret because a ton of people know this and it really doesn’t matter who on this earth (and since we are talking sci-fi, who in this galaxy or any other galaxy, knows), I really don’t like science fiction.

But MST3K was F*cking hillarious. There was a guy, and two weird robots that he built, I think. And they are in are alone in an empty theater. They are watching terrible science fiction movies. I’m not talking “B” films, but “K” films, or even “Q” films. I am talking Cheesy, almost painfully bad science fiction movies.

Throughout the movie, these three characters would make fun of the movie and crack joke about the actors/plots/everything going on. Think Rocky Horror Picture Show-esque commentary.

Ok, I lost my point altogether…Where the hell was I going with this?…think, think, think!

LA, LA, LA, DEE, DEE, DEE, DOO, DOO, HUM, HUM, LA, LEE, LA, LA, LA (Muzak, to keep you entertained while I try to recall my point)

GOT IT!! And this is turning into a really LOOOOONG entry but it is truly AWESOME, so read it!

I have the lyrics to the song “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley. I really like this song, and I think the lyrics fit me (and ironically my best friend who we frequently discussed who is more “mental” at any given time). And like MST3K, I am going to add my own commentary/interpretation of the lyrics as I feel they belong to me. To separate that actual lyrics from my thoughts and feelings, I will type the lyrics in plain font, and my commentary will be inside parentheses and written in CAPITALS.

So, without further ado, “Crazy”

I remember when, (I REMEMBER NOTHING)
I remember, I remember when I lost my mind (LIKE THERE WAS A DATE THAT I COULD MARK ON MY CALENDAR)
Even your emotions had an echo (MUST BE A LOUD FRIGGIN’ ECHO BECAUSE MY MENTALNESS CAUSES ME TO EXPLODE LIKE A BANSHEE ABOUT TO BE ATTACKED BY A RABID PANTHER.)
In so much space (ED KEEPS ME ON AN EXTREMELY SHORT LEASH, SO I DON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT SPACE.)

And when you’re out there, without care (WITHOUT CARE? ARE YOU KIDDING? HELLO SCALE. HELLO CLOTHING SIZE)
Yeah, I was out of touch (HELLO MIRROR, HELLO EYES)
But It wasn’t because I didn’t know enough (ED EDUCATES ME)
I just knew too much (ED again)

Does that make me crazy? (NO)
Does that make me crazy? (NO)
Does that make me crazy? (NO)
Possibly…

And I hope that you are having (AND BY YOU, I MEAN YOU, MY SUPER BLOG READERS)
The time of your life (READING MY BLOG)
But thing twice (ABOUT NOT READING MY BLOG)
That’s my only advice (I’LL SERIOUSLY BEG IF NEED BE)

Come on now, who do you, (I REALLY CAN SPEAK FOR YOU, BECAUSE YOU REALLY MEANS ME)
Who do you, who do you, who do you think you are? (I KNOW WHO I AM. I AM A FAT DISGUSTING COW)
Ha ha ha, bless your soul (YUP, MOMSGOTPROBLEMS, YOU ARE OBESE AND YOU KNOW IT)
You really think you’re in control? (NOT EVEN CLOSE TO BEING IN CONTROL. IF I WAS IN CONTROL. IF I HAD ANY SELF CONTROL, I WOULDN’T BINGE AND BINGE AND BINGE AND EAT HORRIFIC AMOUNTS OF FOOD WHILE ED STANDS BY ME LAUGHING. I WOULD TAKE ACTION OF SOME KIND.)

Well I think you’re crazy (AND BY CRAZY ED MEANS WORTHLESS, SPINELESS, WEAK AND TOO HUGE FOR WORDS.)
I think you’re crazy (ED WANTS ME TO BINGE–WHY WON’T YOU ENCOURAGE ME TO PURGE, ED?)
I think you’re crazy (ED CONTROLS ME)
Just like me (MOST PEOPLE HAVE SELF-CONTROL, BUT CLEARLY NOT ME)
My heroes had the heart (AND CONVICTION)
To lose their lives out on a limb (FOR ME, THEY WILL MAINTAIN A HEALTHY REGIMEN AND NOT EVEN THINK OF ED–AND FOR ME THE WHOLE “EAT SENSILY” AND EXERCISE DAILY IS AN UNATTAINABLE FEAT THAT IS THE STUFF THAT MAKE SUPERHEREOS)
And all I remember (AGAIN, NOT AN EASY TASK; I BARELY REMEMBER MY BREAKFAST THIS MORNING.)
Is thinking, I want to be like them ( THEY USED TO BE THE TYPE OF PEOPLE I WANTED TO BE LIKE AND WAY BACK IN THE RECESSES OF MY MIND, PAST THE GREY MATTER, THERE MAY BE A TINY TINY PIECE TO GET THAT PART FIXED.)

Ever since I was little (WAS OVERWEIGHT THEN)
Ever since I was little it looked like fun (OK, I WAS JEALOUS, EVEN THEN, OF THE KIDS THAT GOT PICKED FIRST FOUR KICKBALL OR CAPTURE THE FLAG, AND OTHER PHYSICAL OUTSIDE (ISH GAMES) BECAUSE THEY WERE FASTER/BETTER ATHLETESI was jealous, even then, of the kids that got picked first for kickball and capture the flag and other gym class games because they were faster/better athletes/in better shape/skinnier)
And it’s no coincidence I’ve come… (fatter and fatter and fatter and coupled with ED and bulimic)
And I can die when I’m done (I do not want to die when I am skinny, that would be stupid. But honestly, I would “die” to be skinny because it is f*cking depressing as hell to be a fat f*ck.)

But maybe I’m crazy (crazy means fat, YES)
Maybe you’re crazy (you’re means me and crazy means fat, YES)
Maybe we’re crazy (we’re means me and crazy means fat, YES)
Probably… (YES)

Sh*t or Get Off the Pot!

Ok, my blog readers, you must be wondering if I am using figurative language (remember, English teacher here) or literal language. At this moment I am speaking figuratively, but perhaps later today…

Yesterday I ended up bitching and without even looking back I know it was about a myriad of things, but I know the weight/size thing was a big part of it (ooh, pun!). That is ALWAYS consuming a huge (!!!) section of my mind and overtakes my thoughts. What do I do about it? One step forward, a hundred steps back. Clearly that is my MO. Bingeing is the behavior du jour and the one that I despise with every singer fiber of my being (and that’s a lot of fibers!!!)

So I need to Sh*t or Get Off the Pot!

Have you heard that expression? I’m sure you can figure out what it means if you haven’t, but just in case I’ll give you the ‘Cliff’s Notes’ version. Take action (that’s the you-know-what part) or get off the pot (stop complaining and just become as big as the planet and then take over the Milky Way–the part of space, not the candy bar!).

Well today, I sorta did both.

Huh? What? Momsgotproblems, you must be thinking, (have you ever wondered about my uncanny ability to read your mind?), how could you do both?

Well the “get off the pot” part happened first thing this morning, pre-work. I was a bad. I ate a banana. And I had a bowl of Froot Loops. And shockingly, it was a human-sized bowl. And while admittedly that is not a gargantuan amount of food, for me it sets the precedent. It opens the floodgates, if you will. Once I start–and it could be just ONE CHEERIO to be honest with you, and all bets are off. So, the fact that I had that early in the morning, I set myself up for eat-o-rama binge-o-rama. I hate me.

Did it lead to more? What do you think? Of course it did!

McD’s for lunch. But here’s where the “sh*t” part comes in; well to be accurate, I should call this the “purge” part. I decided before I grabbed lunch that I would purge it. I have made that promise to myself before and reneged on myself. Truly shows the “problem” part in “momsgotproblems” because if you can’t be honest with yourself… but I digress.

This time I kept my work. Lunch went in… lunch came out. I am glad. I am relieved. I am proud.

Today I acted rather than morosely accepting my fate as an obese lying failure. Is this going to be an anomoly or a daily ritual?

Please ED, allow me the strength to incorporate this back into my life! proud.