Is It October Yet? – Part 1

“It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear,
When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year” – The Rembrandts

Sharp people will notice that I’ve quoted the theme from Friends up there.  Though I’ve never been a fan of Friends or its theme, I’ve always remembered this lyric. Sometimes it does feel like everything is against you.  This is exactly how I’ve felt all September.

Let me back up.  It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything so I’m going to try to get you up to speed.  On August 30, I’d gotten to a total weight loss of 27.1 pounds! It felt fantastic! Shortly after, September began and my life seemed to fall apart.

My birthday took place in the first week of September.  As you may know from past posts, I’ve been thinking a great deal about a guy-friend who I’ve known for years, who lately has just not been paying as much attention to me as before.  I was really hoping that he’d surprise me and write on my Facebook wall for my birthday, but that didn’t happen.  Needless to say, I was very disappointed for several days, it still bothers me, but I’m not thinking about it constantly.

During birthday week, I took the opportunity to eat what I wanted because I would be having cake anyway.  And believe me, I took advantage of that!  I ate tons of cookies, french fries, burgers, ice cream, cake, you name it.  Because I treated myself, I skipped Weight Watchers that week.  Not a bright idea, let me tell you.  I continued my feeding frenzy into the second week of September and skipped out on Weight Watchers this past Friday.  I continued to make poor eating choices over the weekend and I avoided tracking up until today.  I did fine today.  But eating all that junk definitely caught up with me.  I weighed myself at work (a hospital, so we have pretty decent scales), and I’ve gained nearly 10 pounds! Ten freaking pounds! I’m proud to say though, that I plan to follow the plan and track for the rest of this week and finally attend a meeting on Friday.

Also around a week and a half ago, I started to question my faith.  I’m Catholic, but I’m not religious.  I haven’t been to church probably since I could drive, way back in 1998.  I could drive myself and I had freedom so I chose not to go to church anymore.  Truthfully, I found it boring and I didn’t feel as if I got much out of it.  But I’ve always believed in God.

As I mentioned above, I work in a hospital.  We get patients with general medical concerns, people who have fallen, who’ve had mental status changes, who need to detox, etc.  But the main specialty of my unit is oncology so 95% of the time, cancer patients come to us.  Because we are the only unit in the hospital that treats this demographic, we see certain patients frequently and we get to know these patients.  I don’t know the patients very well as I’m not involved directly with patient care, however, I do recognize the names and have a general idea of their condition.

There is one patient in his 60s who was coming to our unit about every three weeks to receive chemotherapy.  He was at the unit so frequently and everyone on the floor got to know him and like him.  When he first came, around February I think, he did not have a great prognosis.  He had always been active and in great shape for his age, but the chemo had wiped him out.  He couldn’t go home because of his condition, so he’d cycle between our unit and a rehab hospital.

Soon though, changes began to happen and he could move around freely, he began to look healthy again, he was in good spirits.  It was a miraculous change over several months!  We stopped seeing him so often but we were kept abreast of his situation.  Then, about a week and a half ago, I heard that he now has two months left to live.

It was shocking and devastating to me.  As I said, I don’t really get to know many of the patients but this man seemed to be making such a miraculous recovery, that I was affected by the news too.  This is where my faith comes in.

I’m not sure now how to feel about God.  Should I continue to believe in Him?  God is supposed to be this forgiving, loving, caring being, who watches over us.  What kind of a God would give this man hope and then snatch that hope away from him?  Why would God do that?  I’ve been so angry and sad about this since I heard the news.  Why bother to pray when this is what happens?  Why put my faith in God?  The idea that this God could make someone believe that he will be cancer-free and then snatch that hope away, it just sickens me. I’m not sure what to believe about God anymore.  If there is a God, why would he be so cruel?  I want to witness a miracle, I want to be proven wrong.

 

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One Down, Two to Go

I spoke of goals a while back.  I’m proud to say that I’ve achieved one of my long-term goals for 2013. I am signed up to take classes this semester! It is my first step towards my future career. I decided to do online courses because it’s just easier for me. I’m only fulfilling some prerequisites right now, but it feels great to know I’ll be learning again! I have every intention of getting an A in each math class so that I can apply to a certain prestigious school when I’ve completed my prereqs.

In my post about goals, I revealed that I really want to swim again. I haven’t started swimming yet, but I have a pretty good idea of how I will get into that. I’ve recently learned about Masters Swimming. I am looking forward to being part of a team, as well as competing. There are just two things preventing me from swimming: smoking (because swimming can leave me breathless), and my boobs (because I’m afraid they will escape my swimsuit). I hope that I can stop smoking and start swimming. Nothing makes me feel more empowered than swimming.

Back At It

Hey, long time, no see. I haven’t abandoned the blog, I just got sucked into a blog-related project. I’ve been trying my hand at graphic design so that I can change the appearance of this beast. I really want Little Resolutions to look somewhat professional. Through this process of transformation, I’ve become hyper-aware of little quirks that distinguish me as obsessive-compulsive. For instance, I’ve been so wrapped up in perfecting my redesign, that I totally neglected the most important feature of any blog: posting.

You’re probably wondering what I’ve been up to since I started my little project.  I’ve continued to attend Weight Watchers’ meetings. I’ve lost more than 26 pounds and it feels great! I’m hoping to reach 30 pounds by the end of August. It’s taking me a long time but I think thirty pounds by the end of this month is do-able. Four more pounds to lose, wish me luck!

I’m hoping to lose about 45 pounds by early October. I think this number is achievable. Why early October? Well, I’m going to a concert for a band I’ve loved for eons. There will be boys there! Most importantly though, Steve might be going! Of course, I’m not certain that he’s thinking of attending the show. I do know, however, that he is also a fan of this band, as well as being a fan of live shows. My fingers are crossed!

I fantasize about seeing him there. I do this every time I’m excited about something. I imagine intimate conversations in which the perfect dialogue exists. I imagine all my dreams coming true and living “happily ever after.” I’m not psychic, so these fictional events never become reality.

What I’m hoping for this time, is for him to be at this concert. I want him to see me and remember me and miss me. I want him to notice that I’ve lost weight (over 20 pounds since I last saw him!). I want him to tell me I’m beautiful again.

On top of all the desires I’ve listed above, the thing I want the most is, to hurt him, really hurt him. I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me. I want to make him feel ignored and undesirable. I want to make him feel damaged. My tried-and-true solution is The Silent Treatment. I know from experience (from both sides), that it works. People hate to be ignored, the receiver is left wondering what he/she did to deserve it. I shouldn’t be so vindictive, but it brings me such sweet satisfaction.

 

I’m a Picker and a Puller

As I wrote out my title, I was singing that Steve Miller song, The Joker, in my head.  However, this post is not about music.  It’s about some issues that became clear this week.

I see both a psychiatrist and a psychologist.  They work out of the same office, but unfortunately, due to health insurance restrictions, I can’t see both on the same day.  On Monday this week, I saw my psychiatrist.  On Tuesday, I saw the psychologist.

Patients at this office fill in a sheet prior to each visit.  The sheet has a list of symptoms, (depression, anxiety, hopelessness, etc.), and a ratings scale.  At the top of the sheet, is a code representing the patient and some numeric codes, corresponding to the patient’s diagnoses.  So, imagine my surprise, when I picked up my sheet on Tuesday, and there was a new diagnosis.  My psychiatrist had added obsessive compulsive disorder to my list.  It was a surprise to me because although I have been showing some O.C.D. symptoms recently, I didn’t think these symptoms (which I shall soon discuss) would qualify me for a diagnosis of O.C.D.

Have you ever heard of Tweezerman tweezers?  They’re super sharp and are hand-filed. When you purchase a pair, the company promises that you can send the tweezers back to them and the company will sharpen the tweezers for free.  They are pricey ($22), but in my opinion, totally worth it.  They are fantastic and I won’t buy any other tweezers.  TweezermanBut this post isn’t about tweezers, or beauty tools, or beauty of any kind.  This post is about what led to my newest diagnosis.  About two weeks ago, I began plucking again.  When I was in middle school or high school (I can’t quite remember when), I would use dull tweezers to yank out the hairs on the inside of my lower legs.  More recently, my mother told me that when I was in pre-school, the teacher told my mother that I would sit and scratch myself until I bled.

Approximately three weeks ago, I pulled out my tweezers and started yanking out ingrown hairs on the inside of my lower legs once again.  This time, it’s a combination of dermatillomania (compulsive skin-picking) and trichotillomania (compulsive hair-pulling).  You may find the next part gross, so I’ve hidden it, but you can read the text if you select it.   I can’t explain it, but I get such satisfaction out of digging into my skin with the sharp point of my tweezers, finding the dark line of a new hair, and yanking it out.  It is especially satisfying for me, when the hair I pull out has a wet bulb attached.  And of course, once a scab has covered the wound, I just have to pick it off.

It’s crazy, I don’t know why I do it. I can become so fixated on getting those hairs out. I’ll be sitting, maybe in front of the computer or the TV, and I’ll just grab my tweezers. And once I start, I keep telling myself that I need to stop because I’ve made such a mess of my legs, but then, I’ll see another hair, and I just have to dig and pluck. I’ve found that I lose track of time doing this. The other day, I did it for 45 minutes when I could have been doing something productive.

I’ve linked to the picture of my legs, because I realize that some readers will be disgusted. And I agree and understand, my legs are disgusting.  But I promise, I’m not posting this to gross readers out, I’m posting this because I want to find people with similar experiences.

The Skank/Self-Esteem Connection and What Determines Attraction?

Before I get into my topic, I’d like to first make a statement.  Do you know how certain words can be nearly synonymous yet have very different meanings in context?  For example: slut, hoe, whore, and skank.  I choose to use the word, “skank”, as opposed to the more vulgar- sounding “slut”.  Have you ever noticed how much anger and hatred is behind “slut”?  From this point forward, I vow to never use the word “slut” in any posts.  If I do use it, call me out on it, please.

Now on to the topics at hand.  In my previous post, I wrote briefly about my mistake of gauging a man’s date-worthiness based upon his appearance.  And what a mistake it was! To bring you up to speed, I recently received a message to my online dating profile from a good-looking, hot-bodied man.  I had my doubts in this man but I chose to ignore them because he was attractive.  Against my better judgement, I gave him my number so we could text. Mind you, this was after we’d exchanged around five one-sentence messages between us.  Hence, my first error.

His second text to me, after the obligatory “hellos”, was “Are you thick with big boobs?”  This was my second indication that he wasn’t such a nice guy.  However, I continued texting him, (mistake #2) although I did write that he didn’t seem to want what I want (a relationship), to which he responded something along the lines of, “you don’t know me, how do you know what I want?” His angry comment made me feel like a jerk, so I apologized for doubting his intentions. Thus, my third error.

After texting for about two hours, (which was mostly him asking about my boobs and my “booty”), he suggested conversing via webcam.  I agreed to this, making it mistake number four.  I put on a little makeup, signed in, and we connected.  He asked me to show him my cleavage and I complied, error #5.  But when he asked me to take my top off, I finally made the right decision and told him that I didn’t feel right doing this and our conversation was kaput.

Now that little story up there does have a point and is relevant to my title.  After the interaction with this man (I’ll call him James), the first thing that came to mind was “How do I always meet men that don’t want a relationship?”  This question led to my next question, (as well as part of the title) “What determines attraction?”

Maybe it has happened to you, you tend to meet people who share similar personality traits, goals, flaws, etc. like they are all cut from the same cloth.  This is my case, I often meet men who aren’t interested in anything more than hooking up.  But why does this happen?  What about me attracts a man who isn’t into a relationship?  And of course, what is it that attracts me to men who aren’t into relationships?  I don’t have the answers and I’m not quite sure where to find them.

This leads me to the other portion of the title.  As mentioned in the last paragraph, I tend to be attracted somehow, to men who aren’t into anything serious, despite the fact that I desire a serious, loving, long-term relationship.  I am ashamed to say that in my dating past, I would give into my partner’s needs, while ignoring my own.  I would jump into bed too fast hoping for a relationship to happen. I’ll admit it, I could be skanky.

Over ten years ago, I lost my virginity on a first date.  I told myself that I just wanted to not be a virgin anymore.  Never in my life had I imagined this monumental event to happen like this. I pictured romance and “I love yous” being declared.  I don’t regret it, I’m just ashamed to admit that I behaved in this way.  This was the beginning of my skanky lifestyle (or so I thought).

I didn’t hook up with a new guy every night.  My number isn’t high, it’s less than ten.  But I did tend to rush into things with several men.  Whether it was a one-night-stand, making out with a stranger at the bar, or letting some guy I just met touch my boobs.  I did all sorts of things to get guys to like me.

This is where self-esteem enters the picture.  I’m not sure what other women would think, but I believe my self-esteem is connected to my intimate behavior.  I need to feel wanted and I need to please a man to get that adoration from him.  It’s reassuring to know that a man is interested in me and oftentimes, its his attraction that makes me feel worth it.

Though, truthfully, the majority of these men weren’t interested in me.  They preyed on my vulnerability and most-likely, could sense my need for validation.  I hate the fact that a man’s opinion of me can still hold such high-standing in my life.  I hate the fact that I can’t respect myself enough to not go too far with a new man.  But I must say, that I am proud of myself for not showing my breasts online to James the Jerk.  And I suppose it’s a start, it’s showing that I’m headed in the right direction.

For the future, if I ever do get a date again, I want him to earn my sexuality.  I want him to get to know me first, to really appreciate and care about me and my feelings.  I want to respect myself and I want my partner to respect me as well.  Most of all, I really want to experience sex and love together.  I’ve never had that pleasure and I am so intrigued about the connection that must be felt when making love to a man who cares as opposed to a man who just doesn’t want to leave the bar alone.  With any luck, I’ll be able to experience my dream.

I Am So Disappointed in Myself

Guess what I realized today?  You know in cartoons, when a character has a light bulb illuminate over his/her head?  Well, today it came to me.  I don’t need to lump all of my ideas from one day into one post.  It is possible, and makes more sense, to separate posts by topic. Whoa!  My mind is blown!

On to the topic at hand.  I have a confession to make: I’m shallow.  I had always thought of myself as open-minded. A little over one week ago, I realized that that is not the case.  Against my better judgement (I intend to use that phrase frequently and from now on, will abbreviate it as AMBJ), I have been visiting a couple of free dating sites.  I got a notification on my phone last Friday that someone had written to me, and I was surprised to see that he was a good-looking guy with a great body!  Guys like that never message me!

After seeing him on the mobile app, I decided to go to the full site and check out his message.  He had several punctuation and spelling mistakes (a big no-no for me), but AMBJ, I decided, “Oh, what the Hell? He’s cute”, and so, I responded to him.  Thus, I am a shallow, shallow person.

You see, I would never tolerate English language abuse from anyone mediocre, but because this man was attractive and built, I figured, these traits will make up for his grammatical issues.  Lo and behold, it wasn’t just grammar issues that plagued this man,  but I’ll discuss that experience later.  This article I read, especially point number four, really sums it up.

One point that the article makes, is that online dating prevents you from actually being able to interact with someone face-to-face, and maybe get to know him/her before passing judgement.  The sad truth is, at least when it comes to online dating, looks do matter.

For instance, I will not look at a profile without a picture.  I can remember, probably in the early 2000s,  when online dating sites had the option to send in a photograph to the company and the site would scan and post your photo to your profile.  With so many technological advantages occurring within this young century, surely, an online dater can figure out a way to post a picture of himself to his profile.  There is no excuse for a person not to have a picture.  So it always makes me wonder, if he doesn’t have a picture posted, what is he hiding?

It’s awful to think like that, but truthfully, I’m left wondering why.  Is he severely disfigured? Is his picture a mugshot? Is he underage?  Looks matter, physical appearance is the first thing one sees when scoping out a partner.  Unfortunately, looks don’t indicate a man’s trustworthiness, sense of humor, intelligence, and all of those characteristics that add to a man’s appeal.  It’s a shame that we can’t see those traits immediately when browsing for a date online.  I guess I need to look deeper.

 

 

This Upcoming Week Is Critical to My Success

Today I weighed in.  I gained 3.8 pounds.  In one week.  I feel gross.  After my disappointing weigh-in, I immediately imagined my trip to Super Walmart post-meeting, and what kinds of junk food I could purchase to binge on.  And earlier, I did just that.  I binged on a pint of Ben & Jerry’s “Mint Chocolate Cookie”, homemade tacos, and Smooth and Minty Melty Mints (or whatever they’re called).

The fact that they’re pastel makes them taste even more delicious!

This is classic behavior for me.  I put so much effort into my weight loss and then I get hungry or I feel deprived, and my effort all goes to shit.  It’s why I’m fat.  I was really off to a good start this time around.  I’ve lost more weight than I have in 5 years and I was getting compliments and clothes were fitting better and I just gave up.  Now, I’m back to having lost less than 20 pounds.  It was so important for me to lose those first 20 pounds.

That’s why it is so crucial that for the rest of this week, I really stick to the plan and do my tracking and exercise, even if it kills me.  And it is going to be tough.  I’m very certain of this.  I’m working tomorrow evening and after that, I have two weeks of freedom.  When my life isn’t structured (ie. when I’m not working), it is so much easier for me to forget the big picture.  I have no set schedule for anything, including dining.  When I’m not working, I can reach into those cupboards whenever I feel like it and grab something that may not be the best choice.

I am so worried.  I can’t give up.  I’ve done it so many times in the past.  I have all these dreams of what life will be like when I’m not an ogre.  Of course, I really don’t know if anything I picture will come true, but I do believe that if I’m normal-sized, certain scenarios will be more likely to become reality.  I like to imagine that when I’m normal, I’ll have more confidence, I’ll be able to have a relationship, I’ll be able to shop in the misses’ (or possibly, juniors’), department.

I’m 31, I’m running out of time to achieve my goals.  I hope I can survive and thrive during this week.