Memoirs of a Soon-to-Be Former Fat Guy

Or is it a sign of me starting to crack up?

I say this because I had another appointment with the dietitian today only to find that I gained five pounds. I hate the scale like nothing else. I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns. I want to beat every scale I see with a large sledgehammer. I feel that the scale exists to completely destroy any sense of accomplishment I may have.

I know… there are all sorts of theories why one scale weighs differently. and maybe that’s part of the problem. I don’t think that a five pound swing is likely.

I think the problem is plain and simple.

Stress.

It hasn’t been a good food week. I know that. Supportive Partner Woman (Liker of Mexican food!) and I have been eating out at a rapid clip, which is not good. There’s been so much going on that it’s hard to know which end is up, and sometimes, the best option is to grab something on the run. So, we wind up eating lunch out. I’m still eating my breakfasts at home and I take dinner with me, but according to the dietitian, I’m eating out too much. Couple with the reduced activity thanks to Wayne, well, I’m not getting as much exercise as I should. It all adds up… it’s not just because we’ve been to Chipotle multiple times in the course of a week.

See, the only part that doesn’t show results are the weigh-ins. I’ve been able to steadily increase the weights and workouts and my clothes fit better. In fact, I’m wearing a pair of jeans I haven’t been able to wear since the winter before last and they are actually a little baggy.  I can’t believe that the bariatric center didn’t take measurements when I started. I’d really like to know how many inches I’ve lost.

The other stressor for the week is thanks to my wonderful employer. It’s annual enrollment time again and that’s never any fun. Not only because of the hoops they make you jump through, but because every year they find yet another way to nickel and dime you. This year’s big surprise is not only are my premiums going up 12%, they are cutting the amount they pay by 5%. That’s really a 17% increase. And because it’s not complete without one more thing, they are also doubling the deductible. Basically, it seems that if you have a chronic condition, like the Beetus, you should just save everyone the trouble and off yourself before your next doctor’s visit. Couple that with the federal legislation that limits FSAs to $2,500 a year, well, it’s a complete shit sandwich.

As my late father would always say, “I don’t mind getting screwed, but at least kiss me first.”

I hope the next post will be free of the negativity… it’s just so frustrating to put in the time and the sweat and see that you gained five pounds. Makes me want to go and eat. A lot.

I’m not going to, though.