Pseudotherapy

Avitable created a meme! And I just can’t NOT do it.

My favorite age: 49-50. Best time of my life, so far.

My best friend: Bret, also known as my lifeline.

My celebrity crush: Tim Curry. Also, Gerard Butler. And Matthew McConaughey.

My defining characteristic: I am notorious for my deep-seated insecurity.

My most evil moment: I tried to steal another woman’s husband. I tried really, really hard. There’ll be some karmic payback for that in some future lifetime, I’m sure.

My favorite food: Pizza in just about any form.

My grossest injury: I stripped the flesh off my palm down to the muscle while trying to open a drainpipe without a wrench.

My biggest hatred: Cruelty to animals. Despite this, I am not a vegetarian — which is mighty damn hypocritical of me, isn’t it?

My most illegal activity: I smuggled drugs across an international border in my bra. On two separate occasions.

My need for justice: The utter lack of separation between church and state in the Southeastern states appalls and disgusts me. Why are states and counties allowed to pass laws based solely on religious beliefs? 

My most knowledgeable field: Spelling and grammar, and incompetence with either is my pet peeve. Although I do feel some grammar rules are archaic and should be ignored.

My life’s goal: To see my novel on display at Barnes & Noble.

My mother’s influence: From her I learned unconditional love, the fine art of flirting and how to make a killer tamale pie.

My nerdiest point: Installing my own heat sink while helping Bret build our computers.

My oldest memory: Looking out a plane window and seeing vivid green. We were making a emergency stop at Shannon, Ireland so I could be rushed to hospital.

My perfect date: Indian food, followed by slow dancing and cigars over tequila at a blues bar.

My unanswered question: Why not me?

My random fact: I used to run a costume business out of my home. The costumes I designed and created won awards for my customers every year, but I never won one for my own costume.

My stupidest decision: Cashing in $55,000 worth of Tribune Company stock to pay off bills.

My favorite television show: Currently on air? Dexter. Of all time? The X-Files (seasons 1-4 only). Runners-up would be Firefly and Farscape.

My style of underwear: Boy shorts. They make even a fat ass look hot.

My favorite vegetable: Peas. Or maybe radishes. Wait, are olives a vegetable?

My weakest trait: I have a serious deficiency when it comes to self-esteem.

My X-men power: X-ray vision. I can see right through you.

My strongest yearning: That which cannot be spoken.

My moment of Zen: 4 a.m. on a rainy morning, working on my blog by candlelight, no one awake but me and Mouse and the coffee pot.

First, thanks to everyone for your congratulations and support for my weight-loss efforts. Believe me, they are welcome and needed.

Several people expressed interest in how I lost 20 pounds in 21 days, so I thought I’d explain. I haven’t mentioned anything about it until now because, honestly, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stick it out. I didn’t want to make a big announcement that I was embarking on yet another diet, only to drop the whole thing ten days later. I’m over the toughest part now, or so I’m told, so I feel comfortable talking about it.

At my last visit, my doctor (the same one who scolded me for spending too much time on my computer) told me that if I didn’t lose a significant amount of weight soon, I’d likely be dead within five years. I had several health pre-crisis-stage issues, all of which she said were being caused by my small body attempting to provide life support for way too many pounds. She said slow and gradual wasn’t going to cut it in my case, and I wasn’t healthy enough for surgery (which I don’t want anyway).

She put me on an extreme rapid weight-loss program called Medifast, which used to be available by prescription only. It’s changed a bit since then — instead of just six chalky shakes per day, now you have the option of doing five Medifast “meals” plus one “Lean and Green” meal each day. And the Medifast menu has expanded to include bars, soups, oatmeals, powdered eggs, and a couple of things they call “chili” and “beef stew.” All portions are one cup or less in volume. Basically, except for the L&G meal, you are on a post-gastric-bypass diet without the surgery. Including your L&G meal, you’re taking in 800-1000 calories per day. The idea is to get into and maintain a fat-burning state without veering into starvation mode, which actually slows weight loss as your body attempts to save itself.

It was living hell for the first two weeks. I hated this program like I have never hated any other. I love to eat, and suddenly I could only have one meal a day, and that is just meat and vegetables. None of my favorite vegetables either, like peas, carrots or corn — mostly leafy green stuff, UGH. No legumes or grains at all. And my beloved milk? Two tablespoons a day. I find that worse than none, so I don’t even use that extra. Shakes, soups and bars for the other five meals. The soups and bars are actually good, but the shakes taste exactly like barium. None of it is food you’d choose to eat. I was miserable. The one misery missing was HUNGER. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but if you space your “feedings” properly, you don’t feel much physical hunger. The mental hunger is what’s tough. And believe me, that was a battle.

I missed eating. I missed flavor. I missed the pleasure and joy of a delicious, filling meal. Most of all, I was struggling to survive without my sole source of pleasure and comfort and fulfillment. That emptiness inside me that I’ve always filled with food was gaping open, bleeding and raw. I felt like I was floundering in pain and grief with no anesthetic to turn to. Nothing to ease my stress. Nothing to brighten my day or lift my mood when things are tough. Nothing to look forward to. If nothing else, the Medifast program showed me how warped my relationship with food was. I hadn’t gotten so fat by being hungry all the time; those pounds were gained by making food my dearest friend and closest companion. Food was my medicine, my rewards, my security blanket, my recreation. And it was gone. I am not exaggerating when I say that I went through withdrawal. I also cycled through all the stages of grief within a three-week period.

What got me through it? Unwillingness to die was #1. I’m not afraid of death, I’m just not ready yet. My Health Coach was (and continues to be) a godsend. I am so thankful that my initial google of Medifast led me to her website, where I enrolled. Both times I was about to quit, she helped me focus on the positive rather than the negative. And she taught me how to “legally” enhance the MF meals so they are more enjoyable. The weight coming off so quickly was amazing and highly motivating. And above all, Bret has supported me every step of the way. It hasn’t been easy for him. One night he actually had to talk me out of a suicide plan. He quit smoking (after 40 years!) a week before I started Medifast, so you can imagine there were a few times it wasn’t pretty at our house. But mostly, we were supportive and encouraging with each other, sometimes even making jokes about the agony. I truly believe us breaking our respective addictions simultaneously helped each of us stay strong. We inspired each other to keep going.

We are now both into smoother waters, comfortable with the lifestyle changes. We’ve lost all desire to “cheat” or give up, and are enjoying the benefits of improved health. We are daily astounded at how much easier we can breathe already, and how much more energy we both have. I still have a long way to go in my program, but am thrilled and proud about my progress so far. I feel so different inside, both physically and emotionally. Who would have believed three weeks could make such a difference? I can’t even imagine how I’ll feel (and look!) in six months!

Definition of irony: In celebration of hitting the 20-lb. weight loss mark on Day 22, you put on a brand new outfit (smaller sizes!), with new earrings that accentuate your cute new haircut. Then you look in the mirror and discover you have a raging case of pinkeye. So much for the new eye makeup.

Sigh. Well, it could be worse. I could have gotten my period.

Sunglasses look cool indoors, right?

P.S. 20 POUNDS!!!

Apparently FaceYour Manga is so five minutes ago, and now it’s all about Yearbook Yourself. I tried the yearbook thing, and my pics were just dreadful. And not in a funny way. In a horrific way. However, I am here to tell you I’ve WORN some of those hairstyles, and they weren’t that bad. Well, with a couple of exceptions. As proof, I present to you now … 40 Years of SJ’s Hair! Shudder at hideous abuse wreaked upon innocent hair follicles! See her eyebrows shrink before your very eyes! Watch in morbid amazement as her face expands beyond belief! Thank all that’s holy that you never had hair shaped like a disco ball! Oh, go ahead and laugh. I am.

(click image to view larger)

1967: Total helmet hair, going to my first formal dance in 10th grade.
1970: All natural hippie girl.
1972: A shag cut, trying to look like a grown-up.
1976: Flippy bangs and over-plucked brows.
1978: It took 3 hours at the salon to achieve that ball of permed curls.
1980: One of my all-time favorites, a bi-level angled over my ears. I was pregnant with Juli here, and the prenatal vitamins gave me killer hair and nails.
1986: Newly divorced, newly redhead.
1988: Strawberry blonde after two years of double-processing. And I do mean straw.
1993: Back to my natural color, layered and lightly permed.
3/2002: I let my hair get long and gray, but usually wore it ponytailed atop my head. This was a portrait I had done for Juli’s birthday. She didn’t like it.
8/2002: Big change in 5 months! Reunited with my first love and recapturing my youth.
2007: Accidentally red and super-short.

What hairstyle nightmares are hidden in your past?

Just in case you really *are* checking up on me …

Today is Day 7 since my last visit with you. If you read my previous post, you know I really took our discussion to heart. I’m not afraid of dying, but I HATE knowing I couldn’t run like hell in the event of attack by zombies. I would be the first to get eaten, and that upsets me. Plus, I have a deep phobia about being left in a vegetative state by a stroke. So I am serious as a heart attack about reclaiming my fitness before it’s too late.

As you commented, I am very much a person of absolutes. Yes or no, not maybe. Black or white, not gray. Things have to be this way or that way, nothing in between. Hence my decision to quit blogging completely. Once I saw that pie chart thing showing how much of my time was actually spent online I knew I had to make changes, and being me, I went straight to the extreme. NO blogging. NO reading blogs. This past weekend, I actually used a timer to limit my computer use. I’ve also made a real effort to re-open communications with my family members and pre-bloglife friends. And we did get out of the house some this weekend, shopping at actual stores instead of online. See? I’m working on it!

However, since it doesn’t matter what I’m doing on the computer as long as I stay within my daily time limit, I’ve decided not to shut down Pseudotherapy completely. One of my friends recommended occasional posting as an alternative to disappearing altogether, and another suggested challenging myself to write posts within a specific timeframe. That one might actually help me to become less obsessive about “perfecting” what I write, don’t you think? I’ll have to see how those work for me, and how successful I am at policing myself.

The bad news is I couldn’t bring myself to do the gym membership, but I did get an exercise DVD to try (I KNOW, no social interaction, but also no public humiliation). And! I have actually remembered to take the lovastatin for four straight days, woo hoo!!! I set the bottle in front of my monitor.

See you in October, Dr. B!