Thinner Body, Thicker Skin?

One of the internal things that I really need to work on is dealing with confrontations. I'm getting better, but most of the time I'm a complete wuss when it comes to handling sticky situations.

Take today at work, for example. I made a mistake on something. I miscommunicated when it came to getting across some information and told someone that something was OK when it wasn't. Now I have to go back and fix things. This isn't a huge mistake -- mind you -- it's more of an annoyance than anything, but the involved are going to rightfully be pissed off when I explain my blunder.

This shouldn't be a big deal, but I spent all day worrying about it and what I'd say. My stomach was tied in so many knots that I could barely eat lunch. I still don't have much of an appetite. And I still haven't corrected the issue because I was frozen with fear over facing the inevitable confrontation between myself and the person I'd wronged. I'm going to have to do it tomorrow because time is running out.

Anyway, the logical part of me knows that I'm making a bigger thing out of this than I ought to. Everyone makes mistakes and I'm usually on the ball when it comes to my job. The WORST that will likely happen is that the person will get huffy with me, chew me out a bit for screwing up and then let it go. But the emotional part of me just hates the idea of not being liked, of not being perfect, of being perceived as "bad."

I'm trying to get to the root of WHY I'm so sensitive about this sort of thing, why I so hate the idea of someone being angry with me. It's weird because I can take constructive criticism fine; when I was shopping a novel, I got over 100 rejection letters, but I was OK with that. I guess it's the idea of it being personal, of it being a measure of my character that gets to me.

This post may seem like it's not weight related, but in a way I think it is because disliking myself was a big part of what led to my eating disorders. These days, I'm pretty happy with myself and my life, but it's hard to break a habit -- like berating myself for not being perfect. I still do it from time to time, only I no longer starve myself or binge to gain control and avert my feelings.

The good news is that I didn't use food to comfort myself. I talked to friends, confided in my cubicle mate and am now blogging. It's actually kind of interesting that I LOST my appetite from the stress -- that's a new one for me! But I know that tomorrow I have to face the music and that the person will be upset with me. It won't mean that I'm a bad person and that she hates me; it will mean that she's temporarily annoyed and I will learn from my mistake.

I hope that as I become more confident with my body and feel like I can take on more challenges that my mind will follow. Being a wimp will only get me so far!

Singing The Truth

Had a great day today at the Tanglewood jazz fest in the Berkshires, MA. We spent the morning listening to two bands (one we loved; the other was a bit weird and experimental), then went to here an Afro-funk singing group called "Singing The Truth" this evening. They were amazing. They had everyone on their feet and really interacted well with the audience.

This made me think of how much I enjoy performing. I've always been shy, though less so in my adult years. My ultimate dream -- which is more of a fantasy -- is to have the lead in a Broadway show. I'm a decent singer, but I can't act or dance, and I'm probably too old at 37, so realistically, this isn't something that's going to work out.

Still, I've found other ways to satisfy my inner ham: I love doing karaoke and I played flute with a band. Being up on stage and having an audience cheer for me was the greatest feeling. I liked making people happy and it made me feel good to know that they appreciated my talent.

As much as I like performing, though, I often have trouble letting go, especially when I'm in large groups. I'm not what you'd call the life of the party, especially since I don't drink often. Even before I was diagnosed with diabetes (now I can't drink at all), I couldn't stand having more than one drink. Believe me, I tried. I tried in college like everyone else did, but after about two wine coolers, I'd get a burning sensation in my stomach and my entire arm would go numb. My dad is also unable to drink so I seriously think it's a genetic defect. So I'd have my one wine cooler and call it a night.

A good many of my close friends aren't big drinkers either, but some are, as well as some of my co-workers and I'll admit, I often feel left out. When they're sober, I fit in fine, but when they start to get drunk and they're all giggly over some inane thing, I don't get it. It's as if everyone were handed the rules to a game or some subcultural and I never got the memo. I envy them for being able to let loose -- and part of me gets angry with them for entering a "world" that I don't have a pass to, especially now. I have a great imagination and can act silly without much alcohol, but I know it's different when you've had a few.

Anyway, when I perform, this is MY chance to become that different person and to let myself go. As I was listening to these women tonight, I was thinking about that and how I really need to start some new project that involves performing. I'm thinking of maybe recording a new album with some vocal tracks. I put out a flute album a few years ago, but this would be a new challenge. I'd also like to sing live. It's one thing to do karaoke in front of a few friends, but it's different when you have to interact with a pianist and orchestra, and the crowd isn't necessarily friendly.

I have a long way to go until I lose enough weight to no longer be considered obese, but I can work on my confidence along the way. I may not be able to go crazy at parties, but I can still stand out in a different sense.

More Than Words

I just had the strangest, shittiest week and it only got more bizarre today. Not sure what it is ... maybe it's all of this rain?

Anyway, it looks as if my job is in serious jeopardy. We're being bought out by another company and the rumor is, about half of us will be out of work. Some reps from the new company had interviews with everyone over the past couple of days and I believe that I impressed them, but I'm trying to stay realistic. The good news is that Jon's work is going well so we're fine; if I lose my job, I'll find something else to do and it won't be the end of the world. But I'm worried not just for myself, but for my co-workers. I also know that a lot of people have already lost jobs because of this move and I feel badly for them.

This weekend, I prepared to get my mind off of things by relaxing and enjoying my friend's bridal shower. I arrived over an hour early so I went to the bagel shop next door to get some breakfast. It was nearly empty and very quiet, so I sat and read. For the first time all week, I was actually having some fun.

Then this man barged in right around the time that the two workers were in the back, checking on the bagels, I guess. This meant that I was all alone. I figured that the man was just a customer, but then he turned to me and growled, "Hello, FATSO." I knew that he was addressing me.

I tried to ignore him, but he went on a rant about how I was a fat piece of shit and a waste of space, and how I don't love God. Obviously, he was crazy out of his mind. Still, it scared the hell out of me. I just sat there, frozen, because I didn't know if he had a gun or knife on him, or what. He just kept screaming at me, taunting me about my weight and daring me to call the cops. Finally, the workers came out from the back and threw him out. They explained that he's basically the neighborhood Crazy and that everyone just ignores him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I went next door to the place where the party was being held, but the man's words kept echoing in his head. Yeah, he was loony-tunes, but his insults still hurt. It was like all I was to him was a fat person and that angered him enough to barge into the store and yell. I try not to be hard on myself, but having him telling me how gross and useless I am was kind of like a demon spitting all of my insecurities right into my face. It also occured to me while he was ranting that if he did have a gun and shot me, that the last words I'd hear would be someone calling me a fat piece of shit.

I like to find the purpose in things, a reason for why things happen, but I can't come up with any for this. I'm trying to stay positive and remind myself that he didn't have a gun and didn't hurt me in any way. Plus, he's crazy and has apparently fallen through the cracks of the system, while I have not. Maybe this was supposed to be a test -- a test to see if I could deal with insults coming from someone who doesn't matter? I don't know.

Now I'm home, snuggled into my bed with my cat and my book, as the rain hits our window. My husband is in the next room and that man is probably wandering the streets in the bad weather. I can't let someone like that take away my dignity. It's hard, but I'm going to talk myself into moving past this.

Mad At The World

Ever have one of those days where you just WANT to be angry with something? This is how I'm feeling today. I'm just angry -- and I don't have PMS so I'm not sure exactly WHY I'm angry, which is freaking me out a little.

For the most part, I had a nice day. PT went really well this morning and I spent the rest of the day at my friend Scott's house, where he hosted a wonderful party. The weather was gorgeous, the food was great and the company was friendly ... but little things kept nagging at me all day and the more I tried to not think about them, the more they bugged.

For starters, the elevator at the train station wasn't working, so I had to lug my walker down about 30 steps. No one offered to help and when I called Scott to pick me up at the station, he didn't answer (turns out he was in the shower). So now I was angry with him, with the elevator and with the passersby for not helping someone who was obviously struggling.

A few minutes later, Scot sent a friend to pick me up, so no big deal, and I know that the elevator breaking was just something that happens. I should've been grateful to Scott for getting me a ride when he could've just said, "Take a cab," and I should've applauded myself for getting down those stairs by myself ... but all of these feelings started to bubble up.

Once at the house, I needed to use the restroom, but the upstairs one was occupied and the grout was drying in the downstairs one. Again, I found myself getting angry over something that wasn't the end of the world. In fact, I wanted to throw a tantrum like a toddler (I didn't!).

Finally, I sat down outside and enjoyed a nice grilled veggie sandwich, somke veggie chips and salads. I had a few cookies, but stopped myself before I went into a full-on binge (remember, cookies are my weakness). It was peaceful and I started to relax a bit. Still, I was plagued with doubts about things all day. I was disappointed that no one, including my parents, commented on my weight loss. I found myself wondering if I was being social enough, since it was difficult for me to stand around and mingle with my leg still weakened. I was happy to see my oldest friend, Lani, there ... but she spent much of the time talking to other guests and I became angry with her for "abandoning" me because again, I couldn't really get up and follow her as she stood with people and chatted. I was angry with my husband for arriving later than he'd planned, and then giving my parents a curt hello rather than enthusiastically greeting them with a hug and a kiss.

Again, I'm not sure why I have so many negative feelings today. If I sit back and really think about things, nothing really bad happened. Lani and my friend Suzanne both made sure that I had food all day and the Lani gave us a lift to the station at night, so it's not as if she really abandoned me. It was a party and not her fault that I can't move well; it wasn't up to her to babysit me all night. Meanwhile, my dad told me that he wants to take my husband out to thank him for taking care of me after my injury. Yes, Jon's "greeting" to my parents sucked and was kind of rude, but he's a good man who's done a lot for me. As for me being social, I think a lot of other people were being quiet, too -- and many of Scott's friends came over to say hello. I mean, I was there for nine hours; it wasn't like it was going to be a crazy party the entire time.

I think that perhaps part of the reason why I'm feeling so low is because I pushed myself so much this week. Going out every night probably wasn't such a smart thing to do during my first week back at work. Also, I think that just losing the weight is affecting my moods. My body is in total shock right now with everything that is happening to it and I'm sure that my hormones are in overdrive. Plus, I'm now being forced to feel things rather than numb myself with binges. I recently read a great weight loss memoir called Hungry by Allen Zadoff where he shared that as his pounds came off, all of his pent-up feelings which he'd been "eating" away started to come out -- and though he was a grown man, he'd act like a teenager. I suppose this is what's happening to me; I'm experiencing every hurt and regret all over again ... so that a small thing like a friend talking to someone else at a party turns into a replay of me being abanonded my a friend for the cool kids back in high school. Or people not noticing my weight loss reminds me of how I always felt unattractive. Since I started gaining weight when I was about 18, I guess I'm emotionally stuck in high school, and I need time to catch up to being 36.

I know it's better to actually feel angry than to quell the sensation with food, but it still sucks. Losing weight is meant to be a healthy thing and this emotional roller coaster I'm riding is an awful side effect. I hope that I can get it together before my emotions completely spiral out of control ... because watching a 36-year-old fat chick kick and scream like a two-year-old would be a very scary sight to behold.

Game On!

So in about 10 hours, I'll be off to to work, ready to re-enter the "real world." GULP.

I'm now sure how mentally prepared I am for this, but I'm defintely prepared in every other way. My alarm is set, my Metro Card is packed away, my clothes are all laid out for tomorrow and the car service has been called (I'm going to take car service in the morning and then try commuting by bus in the evening). I also packed my lunch of rolls with low-fat cream cheese, bananas, grapes and cheese, and I even have my dinner ready for tomorrow night (roast chicken with steamed veggies) since I have a counseling session right after work. Now all I need is a little courage.

I'm not sure why I'm so nervous about returning to my office. I mean, I've been at this job for 12 years, almost 13, if you count the internship I did beforehand. I've been working for the past month at home. And I know that everyone is excited to have me back. But somehow the idea of going off into the "real world" when I'm still feeling vulnerable is scary. The last time I commuted, I ended up with a broken leg -- and I've felt protected being in my nice, cozy apartment with my cat by my side.

But I know that in the long run, going back to work will be good for me. I do miss Manhattan and am looking forward to being back there every day. I'm also looking forward to walking around the city when my leg is stronger and I can cover more distances. For a while, I was circling three miles around the city after work each day, and I really enjoyed it. It was a time for me to get in shape and have some space for myself.

Still, I can't get rid of these butterflies in my stomach. I hope I can sleep tonight! I'll be back tomorrow to give you an update on my latest adventure...

Happy Independence Day

I've always liked the Fourth of July. In past years, it meant barbecues, fireworks, family gatherings and memories from when I was a kid and would chase fireflies through the yard. It's a holiday that I associate with warm nights, days off and fun.

This year, though, things are different. It's hotter than hell outside. It's quiet as most of the people in my life are away. Jon and I will be celebrating with a night out at dinner and a movie rather than a barbecue or fireworks display.

It's a little depressing, but I do have much to celebrate aside from it being our country's anniversary of independence. Each day, I'm becoming a lot more independent as my mobility increases.

The PT exercises I've been given are killer, but they seem to be working. Each day, I've been faithfully going through them -- doing squats, marching in place, lifting my good leg out to the front, back and side as I balance on my bad leg (these moves are the worst) -- all of these being done as I keep a 3 lb ankle weight wrapped around my bad leg. To someone with perfect mobility, these moves might not seem like much, but by the time I'm through with my workout, which takes about 40 minutes, I'm dripping with sweat. I've never been into yoga or pilates as I've always preferred weight training and aerobic-type exercises, but I'm beginning to understand the value of strength and balance moves. It takes a lot of concentration and power to keep your leg elevated as you balance yourself, especially when the bulk of your weight is resting on an injured body part.

However, I do seem to be getting stronger. I can now stand up on my own without having to grab onto the walker and can walk a few feet before I need to do a balance check. I still need to "cheat" a little on some moves by leaning over the walker for balance, but I can do more reps in a row and hold my leg up at the various angles for a few seconds longer. And my back hurt a lot less today when I exercised. I made a point to stretch it out between each move and that seemed to help. I think that this, as well as my increased strength made things a bit easier.

The best part of all of this are the small things I can now do on my own. If I need to use the bathroom, I don't need to call Jon for help. If I want something from the kitchen, I can get it myself. It's amazing how just being able to move a few feet can open up your world.

Granted, I still have much work to do. My back is still sore and I know that it's because of my weight. I keep telling myself that if I'm pleased with how much I'm able to do just by getting around the house, imagine how much I'll be able to do if I can walk a few miles without stopping or am able to easily jump, run and dance. So I'm pushing myself to take every step I can and look forward to when movement becomes a second thought again -- though after all of this, I don't think I'll ever take advantage of it. What my body can do will always be appreciated.

That Loving Feelin'

A friend recently pointed out to me that I'm much more open in this blog than I am in real life. I suppose that's true. I do have a difficult time opening myself up to people, though I'm getting better at that.

Back in high school, I was so shy around guys I liked that I wouldn't speak to them unless they said something to me first. Great strategy, huh? I guess they could sense how uncomfortable I was in my own skin because I wasn't very good at flirting at none of the boys I liked ever liked me back. This definitely took a toll on me emotionally. What initially kicked off my starvation dietback then was that I was hoping to impress a boy whom I'd had a crush on for a long time. He was a total jerk and we had nothing in common, but well, I was 16 and clueless. When we were at a mutual friend's party, we were playing truth or dare and he had to name which girl in the room he thought was the most attractive. He picked this cute, pixie-ish girl who was extremely slender. I was so desperate to get him to like me that I figured that I just had to lose some weight.

The thing is, when I began this diet I wasn't even close to being chubby, let alone fat. I was 5'2" and weighed 115 pounds, which is right in my ideal weight range. My goal at the time was to lose five pounds, but I ended up losing almost 25. Thankfully, I managed to reel myself in before I became completely skeletal.

Looking back, there were other factors that contributed to me crossing into anorexia: I was in an extremely competitive academic program at school, so I was stressed out with work and exams. My music class had also become incredibly stressful because our conductor insisted on pitting all of the flute players against each other. What should've been a fun class was instead agonizing. Meanwhile, family was dealing with several crises at once, including my grandmother getting injured an uncle dying, so there was also a lot of stress at home. And then I had to deal with the typical teen stuff like friends and dating and hormones.

No wonder why I began starving myself -- this was totally about gaining control when everything else in my life seemed to be spiraling. Even though I managed to overcome that, however, I still didn't feel comfortable in my body and started bingeing and purging instead.

But my issues didn't disappear simply because I was able to wear the "perfect" size. I still didn't know what the hell I was doing when it came to guys and continued to be clueless when I got to college. There, I fell for two men, neither who reciprocated my feelings. Meanwhile, it seemed as it my roommates, especially my now sister-in-law, could get any man they wanted. I was heartbroken and felt so disgusting. As I listened to my housemates giggle with their boyfriends in their bedrooms, I comforted myself by dishing out huge portions of lasagna.

As I continue my weight loss journey and try to figure out WHY I'm morbidly obese, more and more of these memories are jumping out at me. I suppose that there are a million things that triggered my eating disorder in its various forms, but I definitely think that my ability (or lack thereof) to relate to people is a huge factor. Happily, I met my husband and we have a really good relationship, but I still have a lot of work to do. Like I said, I've gotten better at relating to people and am lucky to have the close friends that I do, but in general, I'm not very demonstrative. I'll hug my friends and family members, but it's usually kind of perfunctory and done as a greeting because it's expected. I rarely hug people (other than my husband) spontaneously.

I'm also not that comfortable saying, "I love you" to friends. I think it's because I take those words so seriously. I've actually only had three men (other than my dad or family members) tell me that they love me ... and two of them were gay. Since my only serious romantic relationship has been with my husband, I've come to truly value love and see it as something sacred. Some people can walk around easily saying that they love everyone -- and there's nothing wrong with that -- but I've always been very reserved about that sort of thing.

I'm beginning to wonder, though, if I need to relax about love and let more people in. Is that what my fat is -- a layer between myself and others? I've been hurt A LOT by people in the past, friends and family and unrequited romantic interests alike, but I now have a core group of people in my life who've proven to me that they can be trusted. Maybe it's about time I let down my guard and be the loving person I know I can be.

Seeing A Difference?

This weekend, I went out to dinner with a bunch of people and my best guy friend noted that he could see that I've lost weight. He's absolutely not the type to coddle me and give me a compliment simply as a means of making me feel good, so I know that he was sincere when he said this.

I'm not sure that I can see a difference myself, especially since these days I'm unable to stand in front of a full-length mirror. But I have to say that I do feel pretty good, broken leg aside. I don't know if it's because I've been away from my job, but I feel less stressed out and more energized. I also haven't had a sleep apnea episode in a long time. I even fell asleep on my back a couple of days ago and was okay, whereas a few months ago, I would've had breathing problems.

Of course, I'm still obese and have a long way to go before I'm remotely in the range of "normal." It's frustrating to not be able to do things, though I begin physical therapy this week, so that will be a start. Still, getting told that my weight loss is noticeable is very encouraging and means that I'm at least doing something right. So for now, I guess, I will continue following my "broken leg plan" of lifting weights, eating well and eating in moderation. Meantime, I now have an extra three weeks to lose some more pounds before I start walking, so maybe having to be off of my feet still is, in a way, a blessing in disguise.

Guilt And Other Emotions

I just heard from a co-worker saying how much I'm missed and asking when I'm returning. We're friends so I know that most of the reason he sent the message is because he really does miss me as a person. However, knowing him as I do, I also know that he's sick of covering assignments for me in my absence. He and I normally work together as a team, so I realize that me not being there has been especially hard on him.

That said, I'm still a little annoyed by the message, especially since similar ones have come up before, like when I've been on vacation. But in this case, it's not my fault that I broke my leg. It's not my fault that our company wouldn't let me telecommute, even though I offered to do so. I feel badly that my co-workers are having to do extra work on my behalf, though I've been told that several of my assignments have been put on hold, which definitely lightens the load. And to be fair, my salary has been seriously slashed since I've been out so it's not like I'm being paid to be "on vacation." Quite the opposite, in fact.

I hate the fact that I feel guilty about this in the first place. I like everyone at my job, but the job itself hasn't always been good to me. I've always worked really hard and I just want to be able to recover without having to stress about work. Now that my leave of absence is almost over, I'm having to think more about juggling things in the "real world," like physical therapy, doctor's appointments and well, my job. Frankly, my recovery comes first. If I have an assignment that needs to be handed over because I have physical therapy, then tough. My health is the priority.

I've been a wimp at work in the past, but I've already decided that one of the first things I'm going to do is have a long talk with my boss about my various concerns. This way, we can openly address them and come up with a plan for dealing before things get too crazy.

My therapist ended up calling me in the middle of my writing this post and suggested that my accident and everything following it will give me the chance to finally stand up for myself at work. I suppose it will. If there's one thing that this has taught me -- and I know I've said this before -- is that I'm stronger than I thought. I've dealt with pain, having my bone popped into place and surgery, and have lived. I can't say I've been brave because I've been worrying and crying at every obstacle, but I haven't had a choice in having to deal with these things. And yet, I've come out OK, and even better in most cases, once the pain was over.

Light At The End Of The Tunnel

This morning, I'm getting fitted for my Cam walker, which has been described to me as a "moon boot." Once I begin wearing it in June, I should presumably be able to walk again. Honestly, though, I'm a bit nervous about taking this next step; I'm a little afraid that at my weight, my bad leg will just snap and re-break as soon as I set weight on it. But then again, I've been putting all of my weight on just ONE leg for the past two months and it's held up. Anyway, the Cam walker is supposed to support it as it fully heals and I get used to walking again.

At this point, I have a lot more mobility in my bad leg. I can point and flex my foot and move it at the ankle. I've been told that when I begin physical therapy, one of the exercises they'll probably have me do will involve calf raises, so I've been trying to flex my foot as far as it will go in either direction so that I can stretch out my calf. Though I'm not getting the full impact as I would if I were to put weight on it, I'm hoping that these movements will strengthen my leg so that when the time comes, I will be in okay shape for therapy.

Meanwhile, I'm experiencing more and more benefits from my upper body training. The other day, my friend came over and took me downstairs to a nearby restaurant for dinner. I was a little apprehensive about having someone other than Jon take me out in my wheelchair because he's strong enough to push me and we have a whole system. Basically, I get into an office chair near my bed; he then wheels the chair into the hallway, where I switch into the wheelchair. We then exit through our building's basement and head up to the street via a very narrow and steep ramp. Along the way, however, are several obstacles: first, the office chair has to be pulled over two door moldings within our apartment -- through our bedroom entrance and then through the front door. We then have to contend with the elevator, which doesn't always line up. In fact, sometimes it's about six inches off the floor. And then we have to deal with the basement, which has bumpy, hilly and uneven floors. Finally, there's that ramp, which leaves Jon huffing and puffing by the time we reach the top.

Needless to say, I wasn't sure if my friend and I would be able to pull this off without Jon's help. She assured me that she's strong, though, and I do know our system inside and out. So we decided to make a go of it. To my surprise, I managed to get into the office chair and wheel myself over to the entrance of our bedroom without any help or support whatsoever. We then made a team effort in getting the chair over the door moldings, with her lifting the chair and me pushing it over with my good leg. Once in the hallway, I transfered to the wheelchair, again without assistance, and instructed her how to get me into the elevator and through the basement. And then it was time for the ramp.

My friend began pushing me and I could tell that this was going to be really tough for her. I then had an idea and grabbed the railings which are on either side of the ramp. Usually, Jon just pushes me up, but this time, I pulled myself along as my friend pushed from behind. Again, we worked really well as a team and we made it to the top. Needless to say, having the upper body strength really came in handy! My friend has some pretty incredible strength, too -- here's to girl power!

Last night, Jon and I went out and I showed him how I can now get into the office chair and wheelchair without his help. I'm getting better at negotiating cars, too. In the beginning, getting in and out of cars was a big procedure and I needed help doing it. But now, I can hop in and out of cars with the cast, no problem; I can even deal with curbs. The only time I felt a little shaky last night was when the cabby who was taking us home wanted to drop me off at the pot-holed corner where I initially fell. I refused to get out by what I call the "scene of the crime" and he understandingly took us across the street instead.

I'm glad that I'm feeling a lot more confident in moving my body and getting around, even if my mobility is still limited. It gives me some more hope that things will go well when I'm able to begin walking again three weeks from now.

Something Seems To Be Working

I worked out six days this past week, only taking a rest day on Saturday. Meanwhile, I spent a lot of time cleaning and moving around in my wheelchair, which requires me to use my arms and good leg. I've been putting in a lot of effort in building my upper body strength. And you know what? It seems to be working.

I don't know if it's because I'm getting used to only using one leg or because I am getting stronger, but over the past few days, I've had a much easier time lifting myself into a standing position without help. In the past, it would take several tries and some support from Jon for me to be able to stand up and move into my wheelchair or from the chair into the car, but now I can do this in one, swift movement. I remember that the first time I saw my orthopedist, it took three guys to help me out of my wheelchair up onto the examination table -- and I still had trouble getting up there. But when I went today, I was able to grab the table and hoist myself out of my chair without help -- a really big change.

Jon says that he can tell that my arm muscles have become more toned, but I'm not sure if he's just being nice. I can definitely feel a difference, though, when I lift myself. I feel a lot more in control, a lot more secure and a lot more balanced.

Meanwhile, I got my final hard cast today -- a bright, neon pink one that says, "I'm injured. Move the hell out of my way, fuckers!" I like it. It did hurt a bit when my doctor had to flatten out my foot to get it in the proper position, but not as much as I'd feared. And the good news is, when it comes off in three weeks, I'll be moving on to a walking boot ... and presumably walking again.

I'll admit, I'm a little nervous about the walking part. Before I broke my leg, I was having enough problems walking because of my weight and I'm afraid that I'll end up re-breaking my fibula the moment I step down on it. Still, I have three more weeks to continue losing some weight and building up my strength. Going through all of this pain has taught me that maybe I'm tougher than I give myself credit for. But trust me, with this bright, pink cast no one will stand in my way!

Great Expectations

One of the weight loss blogs I read frequently is Jennette Fulda's Pasta Queen (www.pastaqueen.com). The author weighed close to 400 pounds at one point and dropped down to about 180 through diet and exercise. Aside from the fact that she managed to accomplish this, she's a wonderful, witty writer, who is very honest about the ups and down in her weight loss journey. It wasn't an easy road for her -- and still isn't, even though she weighs less now.

Recently, she was featured in an article about the expectations that come with losing weight (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/36784702/ns/health-behavior//), and how many people are disappointed when their thinner selves end up not being so different from their fatter selves.

This has got me thinking -- what are MY expectations for when I'm thin? Do I really think that my life will suddenly be better and I'll be more confident and better loved than I was before?

Well, no, not really. Ironically, I'm actually much more social now as a fat person than I was when I was thin. I'm not the life of the party, but I do have a lot of good friends and an active social life. And come to think of it, I'm not sure that I even WANT to be the life of the party, because I have friends who are and it's a lot of work!

As for the confidence thing, I definitely could some more of that and think that losing weight will help. But it's not because I believe that being thinner will suddenly make me more likeable and desirable. The big thing that it will do for me, however, is give me more mobility. It'll be easier for me to run and jump and climb stuff and not have to worry about my body getting in the way. I've always been a fraidy cat, even when I was thinner, so I'm not planning to jump out of planes when I get down to my goal weight. I would love to do something like scuba diving, though, which I can't see doing at this weight because I'm not sure they'd have a suit my size. I'd also be nervous about being able to pull my body back up into the boat. Another thing I'd like to do is to be able to climb a glacier. We went to New Zealand before -- and this was after I'd lost quite a bit of weight -- but I still wasn't in good enough shape to go on a glacier climb, which is something I really want to do. We walked along side the glacier, but it wasn't the same.

These are the types of things that I feel like I'm missing out on -- having the confidence to try something new with my body without worrying about it getting in the way or me getting hurt. One of my friends is also an avid traveler and was able to climb a glacier, as well as hike through the Andes. Both were extremely difficult, she says, but she was able to do them, which at the moment, I'm not. Even without the broken leg, walking was getting difficult for me, so the idea of being able to hike seems almost impossible for me at this point in time.

That said, I do think that losing weight will drastically change my life -- not in a fantastical, "everything will be better," sort of way, but I'll be given more freedom and ease to enjoy life and do the things I want. I hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

Photos Finished

Yesterday, Jon and I had our 10th anniversary party. It turned out to be a really nice event, even though I had to attend it in a wheelchair. But the restaurant (My Kitchen in Forest Hills, NY) did an awesome job catering and everyone raved about the food. Plus, it was wonderful to be surrounded by so many people who love us. I think in some ways I enjoyed this better than our wedding because it was a lot more intimate and I didn't have to deal with all of the stressful preparations that come with planning a wedding.

The only bad spot were the pictures. I HATE having photos of me. I'm kind of like Chandler Bing from that episode of FRIENDS where he could just not smile well for his and Monica's engagement photos. It's also hard to look at a photo and see how fat I really am, especially when I'm surrounded by my normal-sized friends.

This is why I always take pictures of the sights on our trips, but Jon and I rarely get into any photos ourselves (even though he's not fat). This is also why I love to video people, but prefer to stay behind the scenes as the narrator. This way, I'm part of the action, but no one has to look at me. I'm kind of like Charlie from Charlie's Angels -- you know I'm there, but at the same time, I'm invisible.

Well, since it was our party yesterday, I gave in and let some friends take pictures of me. I wish I hadn't. It was exactly as I feared -- I resembled a huge, melting mound of flesh and looked so so HUGE. Plus, I haven't had a proper shower in weeks so my hair and skin weren't too great. I know that in my friends eyes, I was just me and they jut wanted something to remember the day by. But for me, seeing myself like that was a horror show.

I suppose seeing the truth isn't a completely bad thing -- maybe I need to see how I really look so that I'll do something about it and lose the weight. But the thing is, I have been trying to and would prefer not to look at myself until I lose some more pounds. I feel the same way about my broken leg; I refuse to look at it when the doctor periodically checks it until it's healed. I don't want to look at bruised flesh. I don't want to look at fat, melty flesh, either.

Now before you go on thinking that I suffer from some sort of body image disorder, I don't. There have been periods -- even when I was overweight --where I was fine with what I looked like. A few years ago, I trained for that 20 mile walk and though, I was still overweight, was toned and in decent shape. I looked big, but not all horrific and melty, and was OK with having my pictures taken. I went to Disney with friends that summer and posed for bunches of shots with them, even though I was the largest in the group. I even have one of those photos hanging in my office because I like it so much.

But for now, I don't want my oversized body documented. Perhaps when I do lose the weight (if I ever lose the weight, which as I get closer to 40 is seeming more and more impossible), I'll look back and appreciate these photos of me from when I was larger. Perhaps they'll remind me of what I've overcome and how I don't want to get back to that size.

While I'm at this size, though, I want to feel as normal as possible, especially since I can't even walk at the moment. I can joke about being in a wheelchair, but not having my legs back is slowly getting to me. Seeing myself looking larger than life AND in a wheelchair makes me feel even more like a freak than I already do -- and it gives me a sense of what my future could be like: me, ENORMOUS, stuck in a wheelchair because my weight is keeping me from walking. Ugh.

So for any friends reading this, I'd appreciate it if you'd respect my wishes and not take photos of me for now ... or at least strategically pose me and photo shop me so I look a lot thinner. I know that it's difficult to understand what I'm going through as a thin person, but this is a serious issue for me and I need to be heard.

Interesting Propositions

First, the bad news: I haven't lost weight this past week as it seems like the "sick and stressed" diet can only work so much magic. But I haven't gained weight, either, which is also important.

The good news is that I haven't had a breathing episode at night for about a week (knock on wood). It will be nice if that never happens to me again, so I'm holding out hope.

Because the weather has finally gotten warmer, I've been walking more. On Friday, I met up with friends for dinner and a movie, and even though it was rainy out, I walked around the city for about an hour before we met up. Granted, it was very slow walking, but I was proud of myself for not giving in and taking a cab in the bad weather.

This weekend we had a hurricane-like storm, but today the sun came out so I walked for a little while after work. I'm meeting friends for dinner downtown on Thursday, so I'm planning to walk again. I used to love just walking around the city, so I'm trying to get back into that.

Meantime, I've been given two very interesting propositions. The first is, a friend of mine and my husband's has invited us to go with him to Peru in 2011. I've traveled a lot, but haven't yet been to Peru and am excited to see Machu Pichu, which are the famous ancient ruins. However, our friend then started talking about hiking the Inca trail and I had to give him a reality check on the kind of shape I'm actually in. Thankfully, he was very understanding. It would be nice if I really could hike around the Andes, but I need to be realistic in my goals and take things slowly. I'd love to get into good enough shape, though!

Then my other friend invited me to join her for a girls' vacation in Hawaii for 2013. She and her friend will be turning 40, and though I'll only be 39, I do have a February birthday like them. I love Hawaii and they plan to go to some places I haven't yet been, but already they're talking about doing all of these active things like taking hula lessons and biking down a volcano in Maui. Right now, I couldn't imagine doing that, but 2013 is a long way away. Plus, the friend who invited me has lost a significant amount of weight herself, so if she can get in shape, I don't see why I can't.

For now, my big goal is our 10th anniversary party, which is at the end of April. I'm kind of disappointed in myself because I was a fat bride and I was hoping that I'd be skinny for this. My original dream was to wear the wedding gown I'd wished I'd been able to fit into back then, but well, that ain't happening. But I did see a cute dress I like and want to look as best as I can. And I figure that the friends and family members who are coming won't really care, as long as there's good food and alcohol.

It's so hard to stay motivated, though. It's hard to battle food at every meal. I'm doing pretty well in my plan to eat fewer carbs, though I've been saving them for dinner. Breakfast is cereal, skim milk and a banana, and lunch is a big salad with a lot of veggies and soup. Then for dinner I'm a bit more lax about having things like pizza or pasta (hey, I can't give up everything at once). I'm finding that I'm craving the salads more and have enjoyed experimenting with ingredients. My favorite combo, though, has been a salad with oranges, cranberries, red onion and a fat free raspberry vinaigrette. Sounds weird, but it's really good!

I know I need to get moving more to really see a change. Hopefully, we'll continue to have sunshine and I'll be spending even more time outdoors.

Get In The Pool

Earlier I wrote about how I'd been nervous about swimming while on our cruise, but I finally went for it after my husband and friend Scott encouraged me to "Get in the pool." Later that evening, I spoke Scott's words back at him when he was nervous about doing a karaoke solo and urged him to "get in the pool" (not literally in this case), as well.

I think that "get[ing] in the pool" is good metaphor for how I want to live my life: I want to take more risks and then (hopefully) enjoy the rewards that come with those risks. Just as it was when I literally got in the pool -- the water was cool and relaxing, and I felt as if I were floating. I hadn't gone swimming in years, but as soon as I hit the water, I realized how much I'd missed it. That said, I know that my fears are making me miss other things in life, as well.

One of my big fears still is flying. I've told my husband that I want to book another trip right away so that I can force myself to do it more often. I enjoy traveling so the risk (flying) would lead to a reward (seeing a cool, new place).

I also know that losing weight and being attractive again is a fear -- a deep-down fear, but a fear nevertheless. That said, I decided to "get in the pool" tonight and start walking again. I'd originally planned to do it this past weekend because the weather was decent, but I just couldn't get up the energy to get dressed and go. But today I ended up doing a walk during lunch for about a half hour. I didn't go far -- maybe a mile because I had to stop sometimes, but it felt great. The sun was out, the weather was warm for a change, and it felt good to get moving. I think I function better in general when the sun is out more so I plan to do more walking in the near future. I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's.

After work, I had my therapy session. Things are going pretty well with that. I told her about my "get in the pool" idea and she liked the imagery. She suggested that I think about it when I come across an obstacle in my life. She also suggested that I take a more "zen" approach to things and not worry about the details so much. That's a little hard for someone like me who has an overactive imagination, but I guess it can't hurt to try. So I'm being zen about this blog, and whatever I write, I write. It doesn't matter if it's not Shakespeare!

Meantime, I'm looking forward to more warm weather so that I can hopefully "get in the pool" again soon -- literally and figuratively.

In Sickness And In Health

I'm finally starting to feel better after battling that terrible cold for the past week. This evening is actually the first in a long time that I don't feel sick or tired. That said, I did 10 minutes on the BowFlex tonight -- not much, but I don't want to push it. I've had a lot of colds in my lifetime, but that was seriously one of the worst I've ever had. I'm wondering if it was really more than a cold, like the flu.

The uh, "good news" is I lost three pounds! So being sick does have some advantages!

I don't want to gain that back so I've been making a point to eat more greens. One thing the cruise reminded me of is how much I like pizza. This seems like a) a strange thing to forget that I'd like 'cuz it's nummy and b) a strange thing to associate with a healthier lifestyle. But pizza can be a great way to get veggies in, if you don't overdo it. The cruise had a nice pizza stand that made the pies just like I like - not too thick, but soft. The slices were small, so I'd get two with fresh veggies on top and I'd have a nice, filling lunch. Today I ordered a mini-pizza from the deli across the street. I got it with spinach and broccoli and they piled on the toppings. Even better, they didn't overcook them so the spinach was still crisp and the broccoli had some crunch to it. I ate half -- and was completely stuffed. Plus, I got about two servings of fresh veggies in the process. A win on all counts!

I've been trying to eat more salads, too, and am still in the process of concocting the "perfect" dish. I've discovered that artichokes don't work well because they can sometimes be stringy; I love olives, but they're a little too flavorful and drown out the other ingredients; mandarin orange slices, on the other hand, kick ass. It may seem strange to add them into a salad with chick peas and onions, but trust me, they work really well as part of a savory dish.

But enough about food -- what I'm really looking forward to this weekend is getting back into walking, even if it's just for 20 minutes. It's supposed to FINALLY be spring weather and I need to get out of the house. Between the illness and blizzard, all of the fresh air I took in during my vacation has long since been used up. Old Man Winter has seriously worn out his welcome!

Karaoke Night

I stayed home from work today, and while I'm feeling a little better, I'm definitely not 100 percent. I had what I thought was a hot flash this afternoon and realized that it was a fever. So I holed up in the living room watching movies (The Time Traveler's Wife -- eh, too many plot holes and Night At The Museum 2 -- silly, but fun) and relaxing.

With all this time on my hands, I've been thinking a lot about the cruise and the best moments. I enjoyed seeing Key West and Cozumel, and being with my husband and friends, but for me, probably the best time was when we did karaoke in the ship's Xanadu lounge (and no, I did not sing anything by Olivia Newton-John, though I was tempted).

Though I'm an accomplished flute player, I love singing. I sing in the shower, sing along to the radio and especially love singing along to TV themes. I'm not a great singer, by any means, but I have a decent voice and can carry a tune. I've considered taking voice lessons because I think I could probably turn my above-average voice into a good voice, but I feel that singing is for fun while the flute is something I take more seriously. So while my impossible dream is to star in a Broadway show, I realize that won't happen because I can't dance or act, and don't sing well enough, I can live out that dream by singing show tunes.

For this reason, I looove karaoke. I love performing in general, but with the flute, tthere's a certain amount of pressure on me because people expect me to be good. People don't invite me to play at their weddings or with their bands so that I can goof around. But with karaoke, I can do that. I can sing whatever I want and be as crazy and uninhibited as I want ... and people will still cheer for me and treat me like a rock star -- even if I suck.

I really don't suck, though, if I pick the right type of song for my voice, which is a really low song. I am an alto with a voice that's deep enough to almost be a male tenor. I always enjoyed hearing Dorothy sing on The Golden Girls because portrayer Bea Arthur's voice was similar to mine -- deep and kind of raspy. While I don't have the chops to belt out Broadway tunes that span five octaves, I sound pretty good singing smoky jazz tunes or other songs that go low enough.

Luckily, my travel companions also like karaoke so we went for two nights in a row. The first night, I did songs with Jon and then Scott, and then the three of us sang. However, the guys wouldn't really agree with me on songs so we didn't exactly do ones that were great for my range. Jon and I sang Africa and then Scott and I did Obla-di Obla-da (though I wanted to do I Wanna Hold Your Hand because I do a kick-ass harmony on it, but Scott refused). The three of us then did Scenes From An Italian Restaurant, which was a little too long and nearly put the audience in a coma. Still, we had a great time and it was fun listening to everyone else.

However, the next night I chose to go solo. My first pick, Upside Down, was okay, but a little shaky on the high notes because I hadn't warmed up my voice enough. But the next two I did -- These Boots Were Made For Walking and Fever -- I, dare I say without sounding conceited, nailed. They were just in the right octave and key for me, my nasal passages were clear, my voice was warmed up and I was feeling confident, so I managed to hit all of the notes. On those two songs, I actually sounded like an experienced singer. Everyone was looking at me and cheered me loudly when I finished, but the attention was welcome. I was being regarded because the crowd admired me -- not because I was the largest woman in the room.

I suppose you're wondering what on earth this has to do with my weight-loss journey, but I guess what I want to get out of this whole thing is that *feeling* I had while doing karaoke that night -- that confidence, that ease at being who I am, that sense of being able to let everything go and have fun and not care what people think ... but then feeling successful, anyway. I want to feel as free as I did that evening -- even when I'm not on the stage.