On Tuesday, after months of gentle but increasing pressure to stand on the scales, I had my long-awaited weigh-in with the dietician.
We did it first, to get it out of the way. After drawing up Wii vs Her Scales comparisons with her the week before, I told her that I'd weighed 47.9kg on the Wii this morning, and just before we left I weighed myself in the same clothes she weighs me in, and I was 48.4kg
On her scales, I stood facing them, fearless but terrified, as the little red numbers flashed up.
I groaned "Oh, I don't like that..."
"I don't think you ever will."
I'd been feeling bloated, the scales hadn't been moving that week, and I was pretty sure I was carrying some extra food/water weight, which is likely considering I'm already down another kilo from Tuesday. I thought about putting it of for a week, but what good would it serve?
We'd figured a 1.2-1.4kg difference, between my morning weight and the clinic weight, and this was much the same. I know I should really adjust the Wii to line up closer to her scales, but at the moment I don't know if that would be a good idea or not.
When did weighing become so complex? I miss the days of waking up, peeing, stripping and weighing each day. It seems so perfectly simple, looking back.
So, a bit of an overview.
- I was 43.7kg (BMI 12.6) when I last weighed in at home, early last year before returning control of the scales to the dietician.
- Then, due to the whole ridiculous 'misunderstanding' with the dietician, I saw in this New Year around 53-54kg (BMI 15.3).
- This year, I've been dropping pretty damn consistently, even if not quickly, and am currently around 47kg (BMI 13.6), give or take.
Which is still too much. But at least I have a better idea of where I am.
I'm still not ready to face the real bathroom scales, first thing in the morning, naked and void. Like I said before - when did weighing become so complex?
She congratulated me for looking at the scales. In the three years I've been seeing her, every weigh-in has been blind, simply because the weight wouldn't be my true weight (naked, void, AM, you know the deal) and would serve no good. Now that I think about it, it did serve no good. Seeing the number has only triggered a push to lose more. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure its something worth congratulating.
The dietician asked me to have a think about how often we should weigh in.
"Whenever GP pushes it?"
I was only half-joking.
She suggested monthly, adding that it'd mean I might be given some slack with blood tests. I was thinking more like 3-monthly, and to try to fill her in on any losses/gains I'm aware of, but I don't know if that's a reasonable situation at all.
Any input here? I know there's been a lot of discussion lately regarding how often we should weigh ourselves (both in recovery and not). What's a reasonable time frame for weigh-ins that I really don't want to do?
Mum ended up being away for an extra day last weekend. Basically, she was picking up a new car from some friends, and began her journey home, but after not even an hour on the road, it just kinda... stopped. When she called to fill me in on the details of when it'd be fixed and when she'd be back, I couldn't help but laugh when she said the mechanic, being in the middle of woop woop, wouldn't have the part until 4:30 the next day, meaning it could be 6 or 7PM before she gets home.
A full extra day would be perfect, thank you very much!
After I blogged (at which point I was expecting her home that night), I spent most of my Sunday and Monday beng a couch potato. Monday was a totally lost day. I took full advantage of the extra time, and pushed everything productive down my to-do list so I could spend one more day on the couch, smoking and dozing in-and-out, with my Disney & Pixar favourites marathon in the background. I know that's no existence, but it's all I feel up to right now,
And now, it's back to the daily grind, with tension hanging thick in the air and two Taurens like bulls at a gate. That's what we are. Today we got into an argument, crying, full on break down. I've taken to locking myself in the laundry when I want to be alone. Took a few too many PRNs, and one that isn't supposed to be PRN. Right now, I just want to sleep.
"Two lorazepam. One seroquel. One bright orange,
so hopefully I may sleep. Four more lorazepam.
It's like candy.
'Swallow, and you will be happy'"
I only really realised after, that the only times I really ate over those four days were when my brother prompted me, whether to join in take-out, or just eating something for dinner in general, or to have a piece of the Vegemite toast he makes in the middle of the afternoon. The first day when he was at work and I was completely alone, my intake consisted of an egg & toast, plus a small tub of light choc mousse (200 total).
My dietician's parting words of wisdom this week was to be kind to myself, to take care of myself, to just get through each day one step at a time, but at the same time it makes me feel so selfish.
She suggested trying to get in contact with "that one friend" who I might actually see a few times a year, and that it might provide a break from the hellfire currently raging at home. I would be nice, but I can't initiate contact with people. I haven to wait for them to come to me. Even with some of you guys, I can't start a conversation, because I'm so worried of being seen as annoying or weird or I don't even know what.
I think I'm gonna have to call it a night. This has taken so long, and my head is not in a good place. Imma hurry to finish this up, and hope that tomorrow isn't so hard. Sorry for any typos. I simply