Progress Report (without all those icky grades and stuff)

I came up with a plan for the next three months for the weight loss. I started it on the 22nd, and so far have managed to follow it without deviation. It pretty much consists of going back to avoiding dairy, eggs, processed foods, and refined sugars. Let's face it: I do and feel better that way. So the two month binging from my birthday on has come to a definite close.

But amid all the ridiculous instant self-gratification and gorging, I found out something: I didn't gain a single pound. I got my cake and ate it too. Unreal! How the hell did my over-30 and counting body manage that? Is it somehow the rule that sometimes you CAN do whatever you want and it still works out? Wow, have I been living in some sort of self-loathing bubble for the last few years.

To be fair, I was being pretty good most of the time. I didn't have milk, instead opting for rice milk with my oatmeal. I very sparingly ate items with egg in it. I checked the ingredients labels for the things I shouldn't be eating anyway. Go figure! Not a single pound! Even after that giant caramel-oozing brownie that Krissy, my lovely baking co-worker made for my birthday. I lovingly savored that baby for three days. If you're gonna fall off the wagon, better to go all out. It's the only way to make it worth the future self-resentment.

Forget self-resentment though. Not this time. Miracle! Angels singing in the background. The clouds part and a beautiful shaft of light illuminates the numbers on the scale. Not a single freakin' pound! How utterly breath-taking is that? I thought for sure I was going to have to suck it in and raise my arms and all that nonsense. Nope.

Back on the wagon I go. I raise my skirts, exposing my petticoat to the world (that's just how I roll), climb back in one leg at a time, sit on that ever uncomfortable bench, right the bonnet on my head, and begin that ever-so-long journey for the future body that will fit into the clothes I have already bought in my mind. God, I will look awesome in them. I won't even have to suck it in to button the jeans.

Another phenomenon has occurred: the jeans that I have been meaning to fit back into have either gotten bigger, or I've gotten smaller. On a whim, I took them out yesterday, just to see what the scoreboard had to say. Those bad boys went on. A little snug. But they went on. They buttoned. They zipped. They didn't rip. And most shocking of all, I could walk in them not at all like a robot. Amazing! When did that happen? I've been sporting way-too-big pants for a while because I've been in between the size I was and the size I want to fit back into. So, it was a matter of time, of course. My lazy ass hasn't even been working out. If I hadn't been there, I might not have believed it.

Now, dear readers, if you think I'm stopping with those jeans, think again. Still following the three month plan. Phase one has begun. For once, I'm micromanaging my weight loss. This will be so much more manageable. The next meeting with the scale is Sunday. God-forbid that number has gone back up. I swear, I'll smash it. It better not tempt me.

Sam-in-Limbo

Before I try to justify my long absence with a list of things that have been plaguing me to no end, I'll just say that I'm sorry. I've really needed an outlet too, but it seems that stress has this way of shutting me down to the point where I'm paralyzed, just existing as it were. So, no blogging, much less writing of any kind. That's horrible.

Well, some things have happened. After my life-changing decision to pursue veganism, I made a huge discovery about myself. It's really not easy to give up cheese. I love cheese. I love the different kinds of cheese - blue cheese, feta, cheddar, Parmesan, mozzarella, heck, even some swiss (okay, maybe not swiss). And while I was able to avoid it for a long time (months), I caved in about a month ago, and let's just say that it hasn't officially stopped. So, instead of calling myself vegan, I say I avoid dairy and eggs, not to mention processed foods and sweeteners. The result of that avoidance is 28 pounds gone (though I've got a ways to go). But I better get back on the ball. There's a cruise in my future, and this ass just won't cut it.

Apparently, my current financial state is as much in limbo as I am. A couple months ago, I was told that my position was being eliminated. Ugh. Really? They couldn't just leave well enough alone? They had to mess me up again, and leave me scrambling to find another position that probably would force a pay cut, not to mention the loss of my third-shift differential. Like the other madness that Walmart has been forcing on associates and customers alike (restructuring and stream-lining selection and store layout - even associates can't find what they're looking for),

I found myself in a bit of a predicament. If I'd been told a month and a half earlier, like I was supposed to be, I would've found something on third shift available. But they didn't, and I was stuck with some lame-ass bakery job. (No offence bakers everywhere.) I discovered two things when I did this. Firstly, the bakery at the store is just barely that. Here's what I mean: the product is purchased from other companies, shipped frozen, and then laid out to rise and baked in these really big ovens. I was seriously disappointed. I thought I'd be learning about different breads and donuts and cakes. I thought I'd be mixing stuff from scratch. Not a rotten chance. I learned how to pop a box open and throw some rolls on a baking sheet. Yay! Whatever.

Secondly, I learned to stick it out in this ridiculous waiting game. Apparently, the accounting office was left in this horrible situation with not enough people (two to be exact), and not enough hours to do what we do (an eight hour shift, as opposed to two and a half). So, Sam made her triumphant reappearance. Technically, I'm still officially a bakery associate until my over-worked assistant manager can fit in the official interview and make me an official accounting associate. Officially. I wonder if I'll get a raise. Hmmm...

What will happen next? I don't know what the future holds for this young plucky girl with a tentative hold on sanity, but I'm sure that the universe has a few tricks up its sleeve, and all will resolve itself in due course. But since I don't know what my employment future was going to bring, I knew I had to make some serious decisions about my horrid (and by horrid, I mean catastrophic) personal finances. Which leads me to the morning I found myself at the office of my bankruptcy attorney.

I remember going to Mapquest for the directions, but even just looking at them on the page, I found myself groaning. Drive through questionable neighborhood? Check.

Arriving a hair early, I found a taped note on the door to ring the bell. Strangely unprofessional setting? Check.

My attorney answered the door, and led me through the building to his office. The building itself was questionable in age, and had obviously been a house in a previous life, much like other buildings lining the street it sat on. The carpet (circa 1967) reeked of mold and cigarettes and the walls were paper-thin, worrying me that maybe everyone in the world was going to hear my business loud and clear. Potentially deadly or deadly embarrassing situation? Check and check?

Don't get me wrong. I knew I was doing the right thing, but in my head, I kept thinking, "Oh my God, what the hell am I doing here?"

Happily, my attorney was reassuring, and professional, and completely non-judgmental (at least not to my face, which is good enough). So the ball is rolling. I have my hearing with my creditors on the ninth, and after that, I have to wait sixty days for objections and then I'm done. That's not to say there won't be problems. But I need something of a clean slate. A do-over.

So, as the relief of it all hasn't exactly arrived yet, I'm feeling that the in-between stage of everything in my life at the moment has made some room for creativity, the kind I haven't experienced in a long time. And so, the idea that I will move on and become the person I really want to be is on the horizon, in view even. I'm just not there yet. But at least there is a promise of it.

Horror Show

So, I have to admit that I hadn't been on a scale for a while. A long while. And there's a reason why. If I don't know what that unholiest of numbers is, then I don't have to deal with it. I didn't deal with it for a really long time.

And now I know.

It taunted me. I think I looked at my toes longer than I should have instead of grasping what it was the scale was telling me. Really? That much? That can't be right. But it is right. It is. And now I have to deal with it. Damn it!

I'm scrambling. The mother and I have decided on a weight loss challenge. She has more to lose, so giving her a few days head start didn't seem so bad. But now I'm scrambling. Good God! How did I let this happen? Ugh.

Well, that's done. Oh well. Guess all that planning will go to good use. Let's commence with the life-changing veganism. (Somewhere, a nutrition fairy just got her wings.)

Revenge of the Blubber

Funny how I thought that I could just start working at the store again, and no one would notice that I had gained weight - a lot of weight.

Most people were polite - one of my managers said, "Oh, you look so different." My response: "Well, I just highlighted my hair." "That must be it." (I'll come back to the highlighting fiasco.)

But I forgot just how ghetto my store is. One of my co-workers decided to be oh-so-blunt: "Girl, how did you get so chunky?!" My excuse is the lack of activity, which is conveniently true, in conjunction with eating whatever I want (and I mean, whatever I want). Another was, "Man, you've gained a lot of weight." Thanks. I think I'd like to thank Ben and Jerry for that one.

I thought I'd be safe in my little office on third shift. No one would notice me. I'd be back, but without the excess hassle. Ugh. Totally wrong. So now, there really is no pretending that I didn't get fat. I have to accept the fact that people I have a history with are going to notice.

On the upside, I think all the added movement is working to my weight-loss advantage. Most people gain weight on third shift. This is due to sleeping issues more than anything else. (There's some statistic about this, but I've managed to forget it.) I don't have this problem. I get home and within a half-hour, I'm asleep. I might get up a couple times to pee, but otherwise, I don't seem to be having any trouble sleeping during the day. And I've been eating more after I get up, but I'm still adjusting to eating lunch at 2 AM. Suffice it to say, I've been eating less overall. With the comments by my "beloved" co-workers, it might be time to get serious about the treadmill. And the healthy eating.

So, now the highlighting. I haven't cut my hair since March, and it's driving me a little nuts. At the same time, I've been hesitant to go get it cut. (I have trust issues.) Anyway, the roots were ever-present, so I picked up a box of Colour Experte (from L'oreal - love the stuff). I did the overall dying first, per the instructions. The highlighting was more tricky. The last time I used this particular dye, the highlighter applicator was this wand that looked like a giant mascara brush. It worked out really well. They still have that, but they also have another applicator that I thought I would try. I have to say, it was actually harder to work with, and the highlighting didn't turn out as well. (Note: It doesn't help that I got caught up with something and had the mixture on a "hair" too long and then it was extra light.) This particular applicator made it harder to get close enough to the scalp, so some of it looks weird. But, now that I'm seeing it everyday, it's growing on me and I actually like it. I just do a pseudo-part to compensate for any strangeness.

So, the first week of work was fairly painless, only minute amounts of hurt pride. I'm re-learning my job pretty efficiently, and I think I'll be fine on Thursday when I go back and work by myself (which is still a scary thought so soon after coming back). I'm just grateful I survived relatively unscathed.

Back to square one, or how Sam defeated her bruised ego.

So, I have to admit something...

I'm going back to work for Wal-Mart. (I can hear the gasps and tongue-clicking from here).

It came time to be brutally honest with myself about the occurrences of the last couple of years, and it wasn't pretty.

I started my business back in 2006, not because I had a passion for it, though I do like to travel (it was a business marketing wholesale travel packages), but because I was mad at the stupid store. I felt betrayed at the time, not that it was anything personal.

Okay, here's the breakdown:

In January 2001, I was a junior in college, and I started working at Wal-Mart for no other reason than to make some dough. Back then, I was working another part-time job in school-age child care (which I really liked), and was going to school full-time. Then I picked up the Wal-Mart job, a full-time position. I was very quickly burned out, tapped out financially, and decided to use this as an excuse to quit school instead of the store (which, looking back, was the biggest mistake I've made yet).

By November that year, I was a department manager, which was another horrid mistake. I became emotionally involved with this place. It was definitely a disillusioning experience.

Every time I tried to step down from the position, my very persuasive and charismatic store manager would talk me off the ledge. This happened at least twice. Finally, I acquired a full-time job at a bank as a teller, and as the schedules conflicted, I was released from being a department manager.

I continued on at the store as a sort of "odd job" girl, doing this and that, staying busy because I could cover certain things for other department managers when they didn't have time and because that store is fairly psychotic on a daily basis anyway.

After being at the bank for about a year and a half, I got into the cash office (or accounting dept.). Finally, finally, I was in a position I actually liked. Soon after, I quit the bank. I was in the office for over two years when they switched the whole program and a number of people were going to be moved out to the floor. I was devastated. If I didn't take a part-time position, I would have to go back to the floor or as a cashier or as a customer service manager. Ugh!

This little opportunity came along around the same time to run my own business from home. Looking back, I was looking for any excuse to quit that place, and I took it.

Look, I liked the product I sold (and can still sell if I choose). I thought there was a lot of opportunity there. But the truth was that the organization I was with focused nearly all of their attention on network marketing (getting people to start their own business) instead of retail marketing. Even the business to business marketing was annoying. Then that organization decided to drop that product altogether and go with something else (a very quick way for the founders - with thousands under them - to rake in millions - and we're talking a matter of days). It was an unethical situation.

I tried going it alone for a while, and I tried and I tried and I tried. It was so draining, and I didn't want to admit some horrible failure. But that's what it was. So here I am, all this time later with nothing to show for it.

I shredded my 720 credit score (God knows what it is now). I ruined my work history. I lost my car. My relationships have been strained to the breaking point. And it ended up being all for nothing.

So, here's where I got honest with myself:

I finally asked myself what it was I really wanted. Absolutely positively. In very certain terms.

What do I want? What do I want?

1. I want to travel. That's why I started that type of business. So, that's definitely on the list. I want to go everywhere (I'm imagining Tina Fey saying "I want to go to there".) Here I am saying, "Let's work on that". Paris, Dublin, Goa, Buenos Aires, not to mention a ton of other places. They're officially on the list.

2. I want to write. Ever since I was a little kid, I knew that's what I wanted to do. I've been incredibly inconsistent with it (and that I will definitely work on), but ultimately, I keep gravitating towards that. So, I'm structuring a novel. In the works, so check.

3. I want to find a way to be of service. I'm coming up with little ideas that will hopefully sprout into bigger ideas. My mom mentioned a few months ago that she was disappointed in herself that she didn't instill a sense of duty when it came to volunteering. When we were kids, she was going through a lot, and I think we still turned out relatively decent. I don't hold it against her. But I think that I will feel a lot more fulfilled when I'm making a contribution to society other than paying taxes, voting, and showing up for jury duty.

4. I want to take off the depression weight. At least thirty pounds of it. Yuck! How did I let this happen? Oh well. I can do it. I've always noticed that when I'm happy, I'm smaller. I'm guessing this has to do with a huge number of hormones that I don't know the names of, but they all probably have at least six syllables.

So, after an extensive job search that was both depressing and disappointing, I think I found the right job at the right time. And ironically, it's at Wal-Mart.

There was an opening in the accounting office at the store I used to work at. Apparently they are having a hard time finding people who don't lose large amounts of money.

As much as I dreaded the thought of going back, after the interview process and all the anxiety that comes with applying for a job I left because I thought I had something better, the people I used to work with are welcoming me back with open arms.

I know. It's Wal-Mart. There can't be a huge lesson learned from there, and in all honesty, I don't plan on staying forever. But I feel very lucky that this happened. Is there some kind of cosmic force at work. I'm not holding my breath, but I am sighing with a sort of relief.

At any rate, I'll have plenty of writing material.

So, I'm starting at square one. This is Sam starting over. Better I got through my mid-life crisis now. I feel like the rest of my life awaits. And instead of being overly depressed, I'm ready to get going, wholly optimistic, and, I think, in a frame of mind that is finally being honest with me.

I don't know if my story will be one of those inspiring pieces that will spread by word of mouth until I'm relatively famous for being a prodigal Wal-Mart worker (God forbid). But I do know that I feel like a ton of weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

A late night secret post...

So, I have to tell you, I decided (mind you, very last minute and thinking I was fooling someone - who? I have no idea) to run out to Culver's for a little (itty-bitty-bit) frozen custard. This isn't any of that sweet-tooth savior-created pseudo-healthy stuff. Oh no. This is in-your-face-gonna-put-some-meat-on-ya frozen dairy heaven - er - custard. And instead of opting for the one scoop vanilla in a dish (which, I swear, was my intention), I got the two scoop sundae with hot fudge and Snickers.

Let the self-loathing begin. Okay, not really. You know what? I love it. I love it and I won't deny it. I won't hide it. I won't pretend that this stuff is quite possibly the best stuff on Earth (move over Snapple) - because it is!

Besides the secret rendezvous with the drive-thru attendant (and the point that I keep screwing around with this stuff), I noticed that the SUV ahead of me had that window chalk-writing on it. Random numbers followed by the date and some more random numbers. I had to giggle.

You see, dear readers, in Milwaukee, this means you've had your car towed. Probably for unpaid parking tickets too. (It's possible they do this everywhere, but I just don't know and never bothered to find out.)

What's funny about this is that the chalk-writing is an immediate indication of said event. You would think that people would be mortified to keep that on their car windows (please don't notice that I'm a slacker who refuses to buy the extortion sticker to park in front of my own house that I pay taxes on). You would think. But it turns out that people keep this on their windows for a long time - like some bizarre badge of honor. A scar from the war with the meter maids.

The SUV ahead of me had a date written on it from May. That's really not all that bad. My mom had one on her car for over a year. But that was just because she wouldn't take her car to the car wash (don't get me started on that one). And that chalk-junk-stuff doesn't come off with the rain. You have to physically wash it off.

Much like everything else.

Notes on fatness

Things I have learned in this experiment of gaining this weight:

1. Everything hurts more. Granted, I'm not in constant physical pain. But, my joints and back hurt more than I ever remember experiencing. What the heck? You'd think with the extra padding that things would hurt less. (Yeah, I get it, the carrying of the weight thing - this was a joke.)
2. There is nothing more terrifying than trying on clothes. With every pound, one cringes at the idea of having to buy more clothes to fit the added girth. But then you factor in the fitting room and then the dreaded check out (where, no doubt, there is some cute little thing - a size 2 - manning the register and eying the size, and then you, and innocently turning away as if she didn't notice). My most traumatizing weight-related experience to date was buying new pants at Old Navy. I was determined I wasn't going to spend a lot on the purchase of pants that wouldn't fit me long. I had to - horror of horrors - return to the sales floor three times to find a pair that would fit. Mortifying.
3. When you accept yourself for the size that you are, you realize a motivation unlike anything ever experienced before. Accept it!
4. When you naturally have large breasts, you really shouldn't get fat. They get big, big, big! The horror!
5. Any kind of exertion causes a scary reduction in ability to breathe. Gasp!
6. Food has a different meaning to you. I don't care what anyone says. When you are desperately overweight, the relationship you have with food changes. Instead of arming yourself with the nutrients and calories necessary to keep you alive, you experience this love-hate-love-hate-relationship with food. You want it all, yet you despise it. And then, you despise yourself for not being able to throw the crap out. Not to mention the inner debate you have in your head every time you hit the grocery store. It takes a serious f----ing grip to get past that.
7. Shoes. I don't think I need to explain this one. If you've packed on the pounds, you know what I mean.
8. Chafing and boob sweat. This, too, lacks explanation.

So, that being said, time to move on! I'm seriously determined to get back to the place I need to be. Who's with me?!

So much for that...

I'm kind of bumming over the departure of the DISH. It's still hanging out on our roof, but it's no longer functional. I'm waiting for the box to come to mail back the receiver. Let's see how long that takes.




On another note: I've been planning on doing this major diet lifestyle-change-overhaul-thing. And I went to the store (didn't think the farmer's market would cover it). Big mistake. Why did I come home with ice cream?! Yeah. So much for that, Sam. Are you ever going to make that concerted effort that you've been talking about?

There's the culprit.

A little back story for those who don't know: over the last three years, I've packed on the pounds. All I want is for those cute jeans that I used to wear to fit. Okay, I want to be smaller than that, but if I get to that point, it's like starting back at zero.

Hopefully, by the end of the year, I'll make it to the goal. We'll see.