No Ozempic, Thanks

Herself speaks.

I had an appointment today to follow-up with my primary care doctor about the 'POP' injury from a couple of months back. It took a while to heal, but it appears to have done so, and I’m getting back on the treadmill and into my regular activities. (It’s been very hard to be motivated to resume regular exercise, what with Mustache being dramatically ill, and Miss Kitty needing dental care, and life, and my general inability to prioritize my self-care, and all that….)

The doctor and I went over my current meds, and scheduled my annual physical for the end of August. And then we had a conversation – necessary, though horrid, as always – about my weight. I’m overweight. I know it, you know it, everyone who sees me knows it. There’s more of me than there should be, in order for me to be as healthy as I could be. And my doctor is the right person to raise the issue. So, time to address the metaphorical (literal-tiny) elephant in the room. 

She asked whether I need medical help to lose weight, and told me that there are a variety of pharmaceutical options, including two in pill form, and in two shot form (e.g., Ozempic/Wegovy). I’m not interested in Ozempic/Wegovy; those seem quite drastic, overused, and trendy at the moment, and I’m not sure of the safety of them, to be honest. That definitely would need a whole lot of research before going down that kind of road, and no thank you. The pill forms – stimulants that serve as appetite suppressants – also give me pause. Risky/safe? Effective? They are designed to be short-term. What happens long-term? Is it just a yo-yo forever? 

The bigger (haha sigh) issue:  inside my head, it seems like such a Moral Failing to resort to pharmaceuticals in order to lose weight. Wouldn’t just getting a grip on myself, eating right, exercising right, doing better, be enough? Shouldn't it be enough? Why isn't it enough? Clearly that’s not working for me right now. I must not trying hard enough. 

Maybe I should stop eating my feelings.

Maybe I just… suck.

So much self-loathing. I can tell myself all I want that fat is morally neutral. It certainly is for other people I see - I don't judge people for their size. But the truth of the matter is, in my head, for me, it isn’t. I judge me for my size. And, truth be told, other people do, too. I am treated a certain way by other people because of my size -- like a fat girl. 

No one wants to be treated like a fat girl. Trust me on that.

So many thoughts. What do I decide? Do I admit defeat? Do I do the shameful, easy-way-out, pharmaceutical aid to weight loss? Will it even help? Can I just bootstrap myself, actually TRY, and do better? Will I ever succeed? Is that just wishful thinking? Foolishness, in the face of so many failed efforts?

I wish I could talk to someone about this, in real life. I cannot talk to people I know, so many of whom have weight issues or food issues or orthorexia, or will blithely say “you’re not fat!” even though I am (fat is morally neutral!), or will bemoan their own "fat" even when they weigh approximately as much as one of my thighs, or who will not understand at all because they do not eat feelings and do not find solace in carbohydrates when their heart aches. And because I already feel as though I am physically repellent to others, to even bring up a discussion of my physical existence will only draw attention to HOW repellent I already am. 

I am alone, enveloped in my cocoon of muchness, and I am sad. Perhaps, if I spend time feeling that sadness, instead of feeding that sadness, I will get somewhere. Somewhere... smaller. 

All these thoughts in the space of the three milliseconds, while the doctor looked at me, expectantly, waiting for me to say, yes, please prescribe me something to go with my diet and exercise, or no thank you, let me try harder myself with diet and exercise alone. 

What did I decide?

Let's go for a walk. And we can talk about the whole fat thing. 

Anniversary/Lens

 Herself speaks.

My calendar reminded me that today is the wedding anniversary of my Daddy's brother and his wife, Uncle S. and Aunt M., who have both passed on. I hope that somewhere, somehow, their spirits are celebrating together. Such kind, gentle, and thoughtful people. Good souls. 

Thinking of them makes me think even more of my lovely Daddy. I have been thinking of him a lot lately.  There are things I wish I could say to him: things I didn't know I wanted to say -- until I had over a year of his absence from this world, and had time to reflect on all I have learned from his being gone.

Sometimes, Daddy, I think I understand you even better now. Or perhaps, I just understand myself better, through the lens of what I perceive parts of your life to have been like.

I miss you, Daddy. 

Rest easy. 

Thank you. 

Auburn

Herself speaks.

I've decided to move my hair color away from the brighter red, back into an auburn/brown. 

Not sure why. I used to joke that the red was my middle-aged-rage hair color, and that I wouldn't change it until I was less angry. (And at the time, it seemed appropriate, because I was nebulously -- and very -- angry.) 

In truth, I'm not as angry any more. It's not that anything has necessarily changed.  Perhaps, though, I've come to terms with the fact that this is the way things are. 

Anger is not usually a productive emotion for me, unless it causes rage-cleaning or other type of anger-induced activity. So the absence of anger might be more useful. Unless apathy sets in instead. 

Let's see if we can keep that from happening. 

Wristwatch Kitty

Miss Ma'am the kitty needed a dental appointment to try to resolve her ongoing mouth issues.  She mercifully did just fine. I am on kitty patrol to make sure she heals well and quickly. 

She has little bald spots on her front wrists (ankles?), which make her look as though she has been wearing her watch too tight. 

Feel better, kitty. Good girl. 

Hand-carved Daggers, and Achilles Heels

 A bit of vagueness ahoy. 

Those who know me well, or have spent time reading here, know that I have abandonment issues. (For purposes of this conversation, let's call them The Issues.) It's not a secret, really. I acknowledge The Issues honestly with certain people very close to me, and have even pointed them out openly (though carefully) when specific situations have arisen in which I wanted to explain that I was feeling a particular way because of The Issues. 

I've been doing better in handling them. I know The Issues are around, so I know to be aware of them and take remedial action with regard to my feelings and actions when they make an appearance.

And then there was a test -- and I passed, and I didn't know I'd passed, until later.

-----

I while ago had a conversation with someone meaningful to me, who told me they'd been deliberately distancing themselves. And my biggest concern in the immediate moment, was the reasons why they had been distancing. I focused on the person's concerns and needs, and on finding some kind of path forward.  

I did not, however, panic about what -- lightbulb moment, an eternity later -- looks like a hand-carved dagger, specifically designed to target my most vulnerable spot: abandonment. 

Deliberate distance. Withdrawal. Abandonment. 

What was once my worst fear, come to life, there in person. 

And it passed me by, with hardly a blip on my radar. 

-----

I once thought the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, would be another person choosing to step away from me. And when that moment finally came, it was terrible, yes, but it was no worse than anything else.  I still needed to address the situation, to remedy what I could, to accept what I could not change, to move forward however possible. And I did, and I am still whole, and I am still me. 

What was once my Achilles Heel, is no more. 

-----

I don't know if I am glad for myself, that The Issues are not as terrible as they once were; or if I should be concerned, in that it seems that my soul on some level feels that abandonment is inevitable (and therefore not to be feared). Perhaps I am a little sad, though. I would like some promise from the Universe that someone will always be there for me -- but the Universe cannot make that Promise. 

What I can do, though, is promise my Important People that as long as I am able, I will be there for them, when they need company. 

That's my promise to you. 

Protecting the Innocent

 Herself speaks.

One of the reasons that posts have been a bit sparse here, is because some of my writings of late, are not for public consumption.

I write in order to process. And, in fact, I can only fully process through writing. Verbal processing -- through conversation with another person -- is insufficient, and is, in fact, not fully reliable. It is far too prone to misunderstanding, interruption, gaslighting and historical rewriting, especially when there is an additional second person in a conversation who might perhaps like to reframe themselves in a better light or might import their own history or judgment into the mix. Foibles of human nature: we cannot, in fact, understand what is happening inside someone else's head -- and sometimes, we misinterpret.  

(I do realize that solitary writing is also subject to some of these deficiencies: we all, after all, want to portray ourselves in the best light, and it is hard to look at our own failings objectively. Nevertheless, it is easier when only one person's feelings at a time are subjected to scrutiny, in the form of the written word.)

There is an added consideration, too: the protection of other people. 

If I have a bone to pick with someone, that is between me and the other person. Or perhaps, even, in my head alone. It's not for public consumption.

Furthermore, sometimes calling another person's attention to what I perceive as their failing, would serve no useful purpose. I disagree with them: so what? Their knowledge of that fact would do naught but hurt them. I'm not in the business of hurting others, specially when I know that no good change can come from their knowledge of my sentiments. They do not need to see everything in print, out in the world. 

An additional goal: protecting the innocent. There is no reason for me to tarnish a good person in someone else's eyes just because I have a grievance. We don't tell our dentist that their favorite movie star doesn't floss -- the dentist would only be disillusioned, and it doesn't matter, really. Let people have their favorable opinions of other people. Life is short and full of disappointments already; we don't need to add more. 

The world needs more kindness. And sometimes, that means: the world does not need to see in writing, all the words that are bumping around inside of my head. 

Father's Day

Happy Father's Day, Daddy, wherever you are.