Weighty Matters
I didn’t lose any weight last week, but as of yesterday (and today) I’m once more heading downward. I’m surprised and pleased that I didn’t totally crash last week, and I expect I’ll reap the benefits this week. Probably.
Today I weighed in at 81.3. Once I get below 80, I’ll take a “maintenance break” for a week or two before tackling the last few kilos into the healthy weight range. I’m confident I’ll make it.
In other news, I’m not pregnant. I need to keep mentioning that, since I look, act and feel pregnant (nauseous, moody, clucky and large of belly). But I do plan to have two kids in the next five-ten years – and that’s a relatively new thought for me.
Last week I read the Bible-sized “What to expect during the first year” from cover to cover (well, I skipped SOME of the disease chapters).
CJ and I plan (“plan” is a four-letter word, I know) to start the process of buying a house when our first child is a year old. We think, for us, that’s the perfect balance between “saving more money for a house deposit” and “biology/rent=waste/this is a small flat”. I read the book to get a better idea of what that first year of motherhood would look like, and how much punishment our rental flat would have to take.
At first the detailed descriptions of yucky baby skin conditions, icky and/or fatal baby sicknesses, and gut-wrenchingly horrible breast issues were slightly difficult to get through. (Although hypercolour poo sounds like a blast.)
Eventually, however, I grew immune. From that point on, reading the book was a lot like playing pretend. I now know roughly how big my kid will be at a certain number of months, and how much mayhem he/she will be causing.
In summary, it’ll be all about breastfeeding, sleeping/not sleeping and poo for about six months, then we’ll be working on solid food at about the time that we’re able to regularly sleep well (so that makes it one challenge at a time). Towards the end of the year there’ll be some ability to move around, but not much. So yes, we need to empty out the lower bookshelves – but putting an armchair in front of a power point will be safe enough.
I’m not well enough to work more than three hours a day (unless it’s writing work), but if I understand my psychological makeup, a baby won’t count as work in that sense. (I am able to do almost anything if I see it as meaningful – so I can’t stand even half an hour as a manipulative salesperson, I CAN do several hours of tutoring work, I can write for ten hours without a break, and I can handle 24-7 baby care about as well as anyone else.) But I have an advantage over most new mums, because I already know what it’s like to be literally driven mad.
So basically, I can’t wait to get started. But I will wait, because I’m going to try to get this one thing right, at least at the beginning 🙂 First of all, I’m going to get healthy and stay there before I start anything.
Gandalf ate something!
Thirty seconds ago, Gandalf managed to eat a food pellet. . . his first this week.
(Jesus roasting breakfast by the lakeside, anyone?)
Pretty sure this makes Gandalf the most Messianic fish ever.
I also now think he will actually recover. Which is great, because he’s an unusually good-natured fish. And yes, I know that’s an odd thing to say. It’s still true.
Thus far, the new fish plant is not dead. It’s possible my water is no longer poisonous to life.
The “Farting my ABCs” publisher has not responded. It’s like I’m psychic. Here are some translations of publisher speak (for educational reasons):
Publisher talk: “I’ll get right back to you on that.”
Translation: “Call me again in three months.”
Publisher talk: “We’re very excited about your manuscript.”
Translation: “Since you ruined our expectations by using correct spelling, we will punish you by waiting another six months to reject you.”
Publisher talk: “I know this must be difficult for you.”
Translation: “Get used to it.”
This is a picture of “Stormhunter” which has been at a publisher (a different one; they all mean so well and all fail so badly) for eleven months and seventeen days.
C’mon, make a new record! You’re so close! (The current record is eleven months and twenty-nine days, at the “Farting my ABCs” possible-publisher, but it was divided into two visits whereas “Stormhunter” was sent in full from the beginning.)
Gandalf isn’t really dead after all!
Who saw THAT plot twist coming?
It’s faintly, faintly possible that Gandalf will survive. He’s still alive now, but hasn’t eaten since Sunday. Each day I put food in, wait a bit, and then take it out again.
But just now something amazing happened – he attempted to eat. The food fell straight back out of his mouth (twice, because I tried twice), but he TRIED.
He is a very, very sick fish, but if he starts eating again he may actually recover.
I oh-so-cunningly broke the main tank (Gandalf is now in a cleaned rice canister) while cleaning it, and I had a look online today and discovered it can’t be fixed (there’s a high likelihood of a sudden tank explosion due to water pressure). This is the second tank I’ve destroyed in a month (the first one was my parents’ old one, after I put it briefly and carefully on the hood of the car while I got the mail. It fell).
This morning I thought about giving up, but then committed myself to a new lot of fish by going and buying a new tank. And a plant. If the plant lives through the next week, I’ll get more neon tetras (while leaving Gandalf in his canister until he either dies or fully recovers). Plus the girl I talked to at the Belconnen Markets pet shop said that if I bring in a water sample, they can tell me if anything is wrong with it.
No more danios for me, though. They’re just bullies. Also, it’s possible they were sick before I bought them (fish will bite a sick fish, and they were biting one another from day one).
My own health is starting to improve, right on schedule. I foolishly weighed myself each day, and didn’t get good results at all, but I assume that’s because my body is just screwed up by the medication, and it’ll start behaving properly in the next few days.
Shiny new addiction
The receptionist at the doctor told me to buy Movocol (a powdered laxative) for bowel impaction (at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what she said I had). I read the instructions carefully and noted that a normal dose is one sachel, and people with bowel impaction need to have eight sachels over a space of six hours – for up to three days.
And I wanted to be sure I’d get better.
So I finished my twenty-fourth laxative sachel a few hours ago. The weird thing is I grew to love the taste. It’s a little like orange tang. And I seriously wish I was drinking another eight sachels tomorrow. (While also looking forward to a recovery from the last three days, presumably to full health.)
It’s possible it’s altered my brain.
But it tastes sooo goooood.
Life after death
Everyone except Gandalf is dead (I should probably mention for new readers that Gandalf is a Siamese fighting fish).
I’d already moved Gandalf to a different container, so this means I can clean out the fish tank of death, get closure, and start thinking about how I would have set up the tank if I’d known two weeks ago what I know now. I’m quietly excited about doing it right this time – taking my time to sift through the incredibly conflicting advice that caused me so much trouble. A part of me feels that I should never be allowed near fish again, but it’s pretty easy to tell that one bad experience shouldn’t define me. So I won’t let it.
I spent yesterday watching the lingering deaths of creatures under my care. (That’s almost certainly Gandalf’s fate, too, although it’s hypothetically possible he’ll get better.) Today can’t help but be a better day than that. Plus it’s a weekday, which means I just might get a reply from a publisher today (it’s two months yesterday since I was told that “Stormhunter” was getting discussed by the two heads of the children’s department of a big publisher).
My official weekly weigh-in is tomorrow, but I see friends (and thus chocolate) on Mondays, so it’s likely I’ll eat too many corn chips to compensate (I’m allowed to eat corn chips, cheese, nuts, fruit, etc in whatever proportions my self-control can manage) – so I weighed myself today, just in case things go horribly wrong tomorrow morning. I now weigh 81.9 (I ate a LOT of cheese on Saturday, but exercised for twice as long on Sunday). This means I am no longer the heaviest I’ve ever been. It also means that if I lose .4 today I’ve lost two kilos this week (something that’s only ever possible in the first week of dieting, so I’m definitely going to try with all my heart).
I’m at the point in a diet where I do feel faint and hungry and I still instinctively reach for chocolate before remembering I’m not doing that at the moment – but I feel good. I know I’m getting somewhere, and I know that everything I eat will taste twice as good as usual. And eating vast quantities of chocolate certainly isn’t good for anyone’s self-esteem, so I feel better about myself each day I eat properly.
I’m trying not to think about how far I have to go. Hopefully I’ll be in the 70s by the first week of Term 2 (two weeks away, so perfectly plausible). Then I’ll decide whether to continue being strict, or to take a couple of weeks to eat moderate amounts of chocolate before another push into the mystical Healthy Weight Range.
I’m getting some cramps etc, so I’m still sick – but my metabolism is back, so I don’t care. Three cheers for Fel’s metabolism!
PS I JUST received my latest test results, and apparently I’m massively constipated (and that’s why I have diarrhoea? Whatever. . .) So I’m to go on a laxative for a week, and drink a lot of water and eat a lot of fibre. I won’t blog about the process (you’re welcome), but I’ll let you know in 1-2 weeks if it worked. The cool part is that it confirms my notion that this illness was causing weight gain, especially in the belly area.
Death
Two more fish have died, and the rest are sick. I’m too upset to write more.
I’ve bought medicine, plus yet another thing to treat the water. But I bet they all die in the next twenty-four hours.
Substitute Addictions
I have a problem with chocolate. I know that. I always will have a problem with chocolate. I know that too. All I can do is keep it under control.
Probably the main reason for my chocolate problem is that I need some way of expressing how angry I am most of the time. People who know me will know that I don’t swear (except ironically) or lift my voice or slap them for no reason. That’s all thanks to chocolate. For me, stuffing my face with chocolate is the healthiest thing to do. But rumour has it there are better options.
Yesterday was a reasonably difficult day. I had to fast until about midday, I had to go to an unfamiliar place for expensive medical tests (and expose my giant belly to the nice lady, not that she commented), I felt responsible for the death of another living being, various people owed me hundreds of dollars, and when I weighed myself (hoping to get something encouraging) the results were ominously underwhelming.
So I bought more fish. And a heater. The fish shop confirmed my notion that buying more neon tetras was the right thing to do (and in fact if I’d done it sooner instead of being cautious, Frodo1 might still be alive), and the heater also helped to assuage my conscience. I now have five neon tetras, and have also been able to observe that I was wrong – Sam’s colouring was just fine all along.
The tetras in their bag were very interesting to Sam (the original tetra) and Gandalf (the fighting fish).
The danios reacted by running laps around the tank, and by returning to their old habit of attacking their reflections. But they haven’t bitten the tetras, so it’s all good (they have chased them a bit, but that’s okay). Fish aren’t known for behaving in a cute manner, but it WAS cute to see all the tetras interacting through the clear plastic. Once I let them into the main tank, it was as if I’d scattered a handful of glitter into the water.
I also felt much better for playing “Dance Dance Revolution” yesterday as my Daily Awesomeness (“Unusual exercise”, which I plan to post this weekend). I thought I might be sore today, so I also rode my exercise bike for five minutes yesterday evening. The bike faces the fish tank, which makes it slightly less boring, and I’ve found that five minutes of riding makes me feel good without making me stink.
So my three potential new addictions are:
1. Buying new things for the fish (tetras like plants, and almost all fish like filters).
2. Buying. . . anything. Because only powerful people spend money, so it feels good every time.
3. Exercise. (Hilarious, I know.)
I also read a piece of advice on Donald Miller’s blog that was very interesting. The advice was given to men who want to attract women (yes I read the whole article, why do you ask?), and it was that you should build your self-esteem by being good at something.
I really like the idea of having some concrete way to feel better about myself, even though I recognise that actual skill takes a LONG time. I’m good at writing, I speak Indonesian with 90% fluency, I’m good at solving unusual problems, I’m good at Daily Awesomeness (I’ve always been the person who hears someone say, “Gee I’d like to. . . ” and then does whatever it is on their behalf), I’m good at tutoring, and I’m good at running a household. My focus is on writing, Daily Awesomeness, and running a household. That’s probably enough to do, but if I change my mind I think I’ll start getting good at playing acoustic guitar.
PS Today is fabulous – I have no work except writing, I’m basically at home (except for fun grocery shopping related to the cheese party I’m hosting tomorrow night) and I weighed myself and found I weighed 82.6 – that’s almost a kilo less than on Tuesday, and it proves that I AM now able to lose weight at my normal rate (2 kilos the first week, and 1 kilo after that, except sometimes when my cycle messes things up). Two of the three people who owed me money have now paid, and I should find out today (a) how much repairing our car needs, and (b) the results of yesterday’s tests.
Frodo is dead
Sad but true. I think his death was mainly caused by bullying from Sam and the rest, but it’s likely (since he died at night) that he was cold, too – so although the others all seem fine, I’ll get a heater soon (not today or tomorrow, because we’re getting our car serviced tomorrow and it’s likely to reveal that urgent and expensive work is needed).
Today is my third day of balanced eating, and I hate it. Life is simply frightening, without chocolate to lean on.
Today I had an X-ray and ultrasound of my belly to see if they can show up any reason for me to have been sick so long (about three months now). I don’t remember the last time I had an X-ray, and I’ve never had an ultrasound. The X-ray was pretty dull – just another way of getting a photo taken – but the ultrasound was pretty cool. I could see my insides on the screen. I have lots of floaty bits in various shapes. Hopefully the next time I have an ultrasound one of the floaty bits will be a baby shape.
The results will be sent to my doctor this afternoon. If it’s anything interesting, I’ll blog again. I suspect they’ll show nothing, and I’ll have to have more invasive tests. That’s the worst case scenario. (Other than, I suppose, “You shall die within a week, and so will CJ, and everyone else you’ve been in contact with.” That’d be worse – but I suspect I’d feel sicker if that were the case.)
Day Two
I have four hours’ work to do today (my usual maximum is three plus writing, or I risk uncontrollable rage, swearing at children, car accidents and the death of innocents), and it’s raining. Perfect. On the up side, none of the pets have died.
Yesterday I ate:
Breakfast: Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes with milk and a square of plain chocolate.
Morning tea: One piece of lemon slice.
Lunch: Helga’s pumpkin five seeds bread with plum jam, cold ham and havarti cheese.
Afternoon tea: A glass of diet coke and two unadorned sour cream and chives corn thins.
Dinner: Lasagna and freshly-made salad.
And I rode the exercise bike for half an hour (in three segments in the morning).
Today I’ll eat:
Breakfast: Vogel’s nut clusters with milk.
Glass of diet coke.
Morning tea: Small quantity of peanuts.
Lunch: Helga’s pumpkin five seeds bread with avocado, plum jam, cold ham and havarti cheese.
Afternoon tea: One piece of lemon slice, and one square of cadbury chocolate.
Dinner: Tuna Mornay.
After dinner: Probably a glass of milk with Frangelico.
And I’ll do fifteen to thirty minutes on the bike, starting now.
Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may diet
Yesterday I watched the entirety of “Lord of the Rings” (mmmm) and this week is the last week of Term 1 (which means I have very little work next week and the week after). So I think it’s time to man up and stop eating masses of chocolate. Metaphorically, this is exactly the same as leaving my green homeland to do mortal battle with a giant flaming eyeball.
“There is always hope” – Arwen.
“Let it go! What are you waiting for?” – Sam (to Frodo in Mount Doom)
*chomping noise* – Gollum (to Frodo in Mount Doom)
I began doing small amounts of exercise last Friday (on my exercise bike), and although I still don’t think I’m safe for public pools (normally my main source of exercise) I mostly feel fine, and can now handle doing a proper amount of exercise.
All my blood tests came back showing nothing unusual at all, but I have a stomach X-ray and ultrasound this Thursday. I’ve been sick about three months now.
Right now I weigh 83.5 kilos – the most I’ve ever weighed. It’s roughly what I SHOULD weigh if I was nine months pregnant. I am glad to finally be at the point where I can watch the kilos go down, instead of up.
Felicity Banks 