Aside from realising that I haven't been taking my pills, I don't know why I'm so bad this week. All the fear and stress from sorting out Maine is getting to me, not to mention the constant bloody nightmares. I actually slept for 8 hours without dreaming at all yesterday, but then they came back last night. Not good. N thinks they're night terrors and that I need to tell the dr. He may be right. But I'm pretty sure the dr will just tell me I need counselling, which I already know. I'm waiting on an aassessment appointment to come through. My friend TA is of the opinion that there are medications available to block dreams. I dunno, maybe. I know I should go to the doctor, but that would involve being in control of my own actions at some point. It doesn't help that N is having his own episode at the moment. He was going to come down for the weekend just gone, but he woke up on Friday off the planet. Then he said he'd come down Monday if he felt better, but he didn't. I haven't spoken to him today, so I don't know if he's feeling better or not. I hope he is. I don't like it when he's off. It scares me. And I know it's not his fault, but when I have these episodes I like to be able to turn to my boyfriend for comfort, and right now he just doesn't care. Which sounds harsher than it is. He doesn't care about anything, it's the way his depression works.
In other news, I found someone to countersign my photo for the police certificate. I took it to Brownies on Friday for my district comissioner to sign (she's a nurse), but she's on holiday for three weeks. There is one professor at Keele who's known me two years and he is also on holiday. Stupid people, having summer holidays during the summer. How dare they?! In the end I managed to get my ex-boyfriend G to do it. G is an interesting young man, and a whole long story which I won't get into now. But we're still in a small amount of MSN-limited contact, and he's a civil servant who has known me for more than two years. He agreed to do it, in exchange for sexual favours next time I'm single. So that's been sent off and all I can do is wait for the police certificate to come through. That and start some history revision.
Finally, I have a new label to add. Weightwatchers. Little bit of background information for you.... For those of you who don't know me personally, I am fat. Huge. Humungous. Obese. Technically I think I'm beyond morbidly obese. I didn't used to be. When I was a young teenager I was ridiculously skinny.
GKL describes me in that period as looking like someone has stapled my feet to the ground and pulled on my head til I was all stretched out. I was about 13 or 14 in that picture. When I was 15, things went tits up in my life and I ballooned. This is me in summer 2007.
During that summer GKL (the other fairy) started Weightwatchers in Nottingham, and when she came back to Stoke I joined her. I'd tried on a Keele hoodie and the largest size hadn't fit me. I was so upset I was physically ill. After all the embarrassing things that have happened because of my size (including having two fully grown men stand on the harness to close it at Alton Towers - and that was in the fat person seat), and all the abuse I've recieved, it was not being able to wear a Keele hoodie that convinced me to lose weight. So we started Weightwatchers together.
At my first weigh in I was 25st 6lbs. Fun. The Weightwatchers plan is reasonably good though. You are assigned a certain number of points per day based on your height, weight, age, activity levels, etc. And every food has a points value. You can eat whatever you want, as long as you keep to your points allowance. I did pretty well at first. When you weigh so much it's easy to lose at first. Six months later I'd lost a coupla stone. It was good. But then things with N went all ass over tits, and I hit a wall. I'd lose a few pounds, and put them on again, and lose them and put them on again. It got depressing. I reached the point where I decided I didn't want to pay five quid a week to be told I was fat. So I took a break. I never went back.
I'm happy with my size. I'm comfortable with my curves. My issues come when other people aren't happy with it. When I get insults and abuse in the street, when doctors tell me that all my health problems are because I'm fat, when I can't buy that absolutely beautiful dress because it doesn't come in my size. I like my food, I get depressed when I diet. I didn't want to spend years trying to lose weight and being miserable.
GKL, meanwhile, reached her goal weight, after a LOT of hard work. She had planned to keep going to Weightwatchers to maintain that weight, but work and things got in the way and she stopped going. The weight came back, and she recently decided to go back to Weightwatchers, but she's been having trouble. I decided to go back too. For a few reasons.
1) I know full well that doing the programme with a friend means GKL will likely do better (why does that sound grammatically screwed?).
2) I have a few skirts in my wardrobe that are ever so slightly too small for me and it'd be nice to fit into them.
3) I am almost guaranteed to put weight on in America and if I lose some before I go, then it won't be so bad.
Let me just point out that I am NOT going back because I want to be skinny. I never want to be skinny. I like my curves. I'm going back to lose 'some' weight. I have no intention of reaching the goal weight that will be set for me. I have my own goals, which I'll list in a minute. I absolutely refuse to spend the next twenty years dieting and then die.
Last night was my first meeting, and my initial weigh in. I was curious to see if I'd put on everything I lost the first time around. I stepped on the scales, glanced at the readout and turned to GKL with a look of abject shock and horror on my face. I HAD put back everything I'd lost, plus another two and a half stone. My current weight is 27st 13.
It was shocking, and slightly humiliating, but it's a fact. I have a bit more weight to lose than I'd planned. The thing is that I do not look like I weigh 28 stone. I haven't gotten much bigger than before. I'm still beautiful. But, the weight needs to go down at least a little bit.
For my height and age, my weight should be somewhere between 9st 10 and 12st 11. If I plan to reach that weight I need to lose 15 stone. That's a whole fully grown man! Quite intimidating. But I don't want to reach that weight. Here are my goals.
1) To fit into the clothes in my wardrobe.
2) To be able to buy clothes in a shop other than Evans.
3) To be able to go horseriding again (most stables have a 20st limit).
Other than that, I don't really care. But I'll keep you updated.
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