Fun fact – Jan and I moved in together a year ago today.
Google photos sent me a reminder. I needed it.
When I was probably ten or eleven, I volunteered to help clean the kindergarten room with my friend. She would go in every day for a few minutes to help the kindies finish up, and give the teacher a hand.
On this particular day, I joined her. I soaked my sponge and came over to the table. I thought to myself, if I just had a little extra water on the sponge, I could spread it around further and I could clean the table faster without having to make repeated trips to the sink.
I was pretty proud of myself.
From the desk, I I heard the teacher – with a bite of food in her mouth – scoff and say, isn’t that a bit much on the water, Carrie?
I froze. Everyone heard her. I felt so small. Like, inches off the ground. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t even explain why I’d done what I had. I just blinked away the tears, finished mopping up the table and didn’t go back for days and days.
When I finally got the courage to step back into the classroom to help my friend, the teacher – again in that faux sing-song, I’m about to make fun of you tone – said across the room: Oh, you’re back, Carrie. I didn’t think I’d see you again, since the last time you were here, you didn’t like what I said to you.
I was humiliated. I thought – hey, wasn’t it obvious that you embarrassed me, and now I’ve left so to collect the crumbs of my dignity? And wasn’t my absence the last several days pretty clear that I did not want to address this in public?
There are many, many instances like this from my life that I could turn to and say: this is that time someone embarrassed me. Like, when my teacher stopped an entire presentation to ask why I was having friends and faculty sign a card instead of staying in my assigned seat to listen to the lecture? I was too embarrassed to explain I was assigned to have the class sign the card. I just sunk further into sadness.
Or the time where the class clown turned the spotlight on me during my piano recital during the talent show, cascading a zombie-like figure of me on the wall where everyone laughed and laughed. I never played in a talent show again.
Today, I was – again – scoffed at for my lack of dedication to the weight loss program.
It doesn’t matter who these people are. It doesn’t matter what brought on the situation. What matters is me trying to put back the pieces of my dignity, shake off the naysayers and get back to who I was.
The problem is that I haven’t had a fragment of a moment to even remember who I was, much less who I am inside these intense, emotionally-charged encounters. I’ve cried enough to raise a river. And I keep taking hot showers, warm face cloths over my eyes, pleading with my face to lessen the swelling. And yet, I’m wearing each scrutiny like a scarlet letter over my heart.
What has me concerned about my program is my work days, and having enough food to sustain me. I’ll be very frank. This was the message I was sending to the Coaches today.
I am eating breakfast at 6:30am, and then not getting to lunch until 2, or 3 in the afternoon. One time, it wasn’t till 5pm. Once, I missed lunch entirely. And it’s not so much about wanting to get to lunch sooner – I can make a concerted effort to take care of that break – but rather that when I do get around to eating something, it isn’t enough. 2 scrambled eggs with 3 tbsp of cottage cheese at 6:30am is just not enough to make it to lunch. And 4 ounces of protein, and a cup of veggies, and a carb is not enough lunch to get me to the next meal. Not while I’m on the floor from 8:30am, till 6:30pm at night. Not while I’m an hour drive to and from work. Not while I’m getting up early to facilitate the commitments to my small business. Staying up late to get the last of the Care posts out.
Not while I’m trying to be a Mom. Or a wife. Or a friend.
Many, many people work ten, twelve hour days. But I can’t speak to their eating habits, I only know for me that having breakfast at 6:30am and not eating dinner until 8:30pm or later, is just not working. Not right now.
And the emotional and mental duress I’m sustaining adjusting to requires energy. Energy I could be getting from food if I could have more to eat. Over the course of the next few weeks, my objective is to get a new eating plan, in conjunction with the supplements I’m still taking. My not being able to eat at objective times, or being super busy that it impedes on my availability to eat the food sitting in the lunch bag at my feet is not a dig at the dedication I have to the program. It’s a mere adjustment to a new job and a new routine.
I’m getting worse at taking pictures of my food. But today, I’m enjoying one of my faves – a chicken Caesar salad, made with low-cal Kraft Caesar dressing, some light pepper, cottage cheese, and parm cheese. Arrowroot cookies on the side.
My TikTok Tuesday returned this week on the EWYN page of my Sliders. (So good, try ’em.)
And as for weight. Well, I did a triple side x side of this dress.
As for today – as I wrap up the last week of month 4 – I’ve put on a half an inch everywhere (thanks stress), but I’m down to 185.2lbs. I think it might finally be safe to say that with honest work and dedication to myself, I’ll never be over 200lbs again. That would be a tremendous feat. Oh – and I dyed my hair blue. Like Joy from Inside Out. We all need joy.
You can if you want to.
— c ☆