So this whole mess with Sam is driving me bonkers. He has missed 10 days of school so far this year, and has been fine all weekend, and comes downstairs with vomit. In a cup. To show me that he threw up. And has to stay home from school tomorrow. I said you have to go to school anyways, you don't have the stomach flu, we don't know what's wrong, it seems to be a random thing, blah blah. Well. He's desperately ill, didn't I SEE the vomit in the cup? Ugh. I wish I'd had the guts to smell it. Vomit has that distinct odor you know. I hate to say my son is faking when I know something is wrong but dang. He's known all weekend he was going to school tomorrow. He will be missing school on Tuesday so he can go have his eyes dilated and a comprehensive exam to see if maybe something is wrong with his vision that could be causing his headaches.
Headaches, diarrhea, insomnia, loss of appetite. Good gravy it could be anything. They tested his blood: everything's fine. No elevated white count. All organs working properly. If something horrid turns up on his cat scan I will feel like the worst. parent. EVER. I just feel in my gut that he needs to go to school, that if something big does show up, we will make arrangements through the doctor and the school for him to stay home and have a teacher come a couple of times a week to our home to keep him up on his homework. But until then. I have to do the best I can to keep the principal from calling me and telling me that it's 'policy' that no student misses more than 7 days a semester. Like it's the law or something. I went through this 2 years ago with Bekah when she had mono. Ugh.
Sorry to bore any unfortunate readers of this blog, remember, the blog is for ME not for YOU.
Thankfully my husband is in agreement with me that he needs to be in school until we figure out what's going on.
*********Done with the Drama in My Life********
So today was a good day. I had a HUGE chocolate craving. Actually, I've had it for a few days now. I found myself nitpicking little things through the days, a little here, a little there, and last night I sat and thought about what I REALLY wanted.
I wanted chocolate.
I mean, something good chocolate.
Like something I bake. So I decided to make my (world famous) peanut butter chocolate brownies. Yes, I had a taste of batter. Then I filled the bowl with water. Yes, I had a taste of icing. Then I filled the pot with water.
Then, tonight, after we got back from church, I cut 1/24 of the pan, nuked it 30 seconds in the microwave, poured my cup of milk, and MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM that hit the spot.
Funny, I haven't thought about chocolate--or any food--all night.
Food for the day:
cereal 120
milk 60
2 tostadas 300
1 serving queso chips 160
1 corndog with mustard 180
1 oz fries --I guess 50 calories? The package said 3 oz 150 calories, and I ate 1/3 of that.
1 luscious warm gooey chocolatey brownie 400 (I hope it's actually less and not more than that but I really don't care)
1 cup milk 120
Total 1390
I felt good today. Good in the I'm in the zone way. I turned down a second corndog, made the brownies this afternoon and didn't eat one until tonight, measured all my food. If I go backwards, eat the way I have for years, then I will look and feel the way I have for years. Which is awful. Discouraging. I'm tired of all that.
I'm tired of not liking what I see in the mirror.
I'm tired of clothes looking just not quite right on me.
I'm tired of flesh under my neck.
I'm tired of having huge, ugly legs, full of cellulite and pretty gross looking.
I'm tired of feeling tired.
I'm tired of the 'fat life'. I am so over it.
Man I can't believe I am 50, and I have struggled with this since I was 14! I never ever thought I would spend 36 years battling and never conquering this! This? I mean myself. Yes, sad but true, nobody held me down and threatened me with torture if I didn't eat more food. I did this to myself. I have no thyroid problem--even though I prayed for one. I even believed that if I ever DID get cancer, it would be the only kind that caused you to GAIN weight, not lose it. I have eaten myself to this hideous state.
Well then. The answer is not to remove certain foods from my life. The answer is not to add certain foods to my life. Actually the answer has nothing to do with food at all. The answer is I have to battle and conquer myself. And it's a daily thing.
Sometimes I do great, other times I feel like this out of control monster and that really knocks me for a loop.
Funny, I always thought I was weak. But I'm finding how strong I really am. If I can say 'yes I want this food I am going to eat it and nobody and nothing better stand in my way', then I can say 'okay, I may want this food but I am NOT going to eat it if it shoots me over my calories and nobody and nothing can change my mind'.
I can be strong and eat myself into Jabba the Hutdom, or I can be strong and control my eating. I like the idea that I am actually strong and not this weak helpless creature. That when the desire comes to eat more than I really want to, I can fight the desire. And win.
I win all the time now.
I am a strong winner!
Making wise winning choices through thick and thin,
Laura
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