It’s March 31st, and there has been no sign of my usual March Madness. I’m 95% out of the depression and feel considerably better about life these days, and the weather has cooperated as well for the most part, bringing us sunshine and the warmth I crave so much. I even wore sandals for a couple of days! But there isn’t the least hint of the insanity that often grips me at this time of the year, and for that I’m thankful.
One thing I’m NOT happy about, however, is the fact that I’ve gained back almost half the weight I lost in the year after Will died. It all started when my Zyprexa dose went up last summer, and it hasn’t leveled off yet. I don’t know exactly what I weigh right now, but my clothes aren’t as roomy and I feel fat and sluggish. My back and knees are definitely more painful than they were when I was lighter. And I don’t know what to do about it.
Well, I do know what to do about it, I just don’t want to do it. A couple of days ago I was sitting here eating a cheeseburger and trying to keep the barbecue sauce off the keyboard as I typed. I had absolutely no reason to eat a cheeseburger except I wanted one, and Ben was going out for food, and I had money. I couldn’t have a cheeseburger yesterday because it was a Friday and it’s Lent, so what did I do but buy a fish sandwich from Arby’s?
I have also fallen into the unfortunate habit of starving myself during the day and then eating a huge dinner. I don’t get hungry till around 2 PM so I just have a few bites at lunch, which means I’m ravenous by 5:30. Tonight I ate three slices of pizza and finished it off with cake and milk. I didn’t need three slices of pizza, two would have done the job, but I was so hungry I couldn’t help myself. I know better than that. But it keeps happening, and I feel powerless to stop it. Why can’t I crave healthy stuff like kale, and why can’t I make myself exercise (other than the fact that it hurts)?
Even a few minutes of stretching in the morning and a low-carb diet would help tremendously, yet I seem strangely resistant to change. I don’t want to gain ALL the weight back—I’ve got a cruise coming up in 356 days (but who’s counting, right?) and don’t want to have to use a wheelchair at the airport. Been there, done that, and it’s humiliating. People tend to regard you like you’re stupid or something, and if you’re fat, you can practically see the judgment coming off them in waves, even if no one says anything. I need to at least get back to where I was in 2017, when I could ride on theme park rides and not need seat belt extenders on the plane. I don’t need another tragedy in my life to spark weight loss, so I need to figure things out, and soon.
In the meantime, I’d better get the hell off the Internet and go to bed. That cake is looking awfully good again…