Category Archives: Nonscale Victories

One Year After…

As promised, this post is for my pals who have been emailing me lately, struggling with diabetes and/or prediabetes.  A little bit of hope, if you will.  It’s been approximately 1 year (give or take a few months) since I’ve “cured” my type 2 diabetes through getting the heck up off my patookus and doing something about it.  The real test once you’ve been off of diabetic medications, though, is being able to maintain that control so that you don’t end up right back at diabetic hole square one.  This past Friday I had my quarterly doctor appointment… and the vampire doctor took approximately 89 gallons of my blood to do pretty much every test in the book and also to make some blood pudding for a shindig later that night… don’t quote me on that part.  I’ve always wondered why in the world medical folks think it’s a smart idea to take so much dagnabbed blood from an anemic person… for serious!?!?  Aren’t you adding to my problem?  Here’s an idea… go get a male… any male will do… take 89 gallons of his blood and call me with the results in the morning.  Tangent… moving on.

So, he took half of my body’s supply of blood and then called me yesterday with the results.  Here’s a little comparison of before numbers and one year later numbers:

Hemoglobin A1c (a measurement of your blood sugar over a 3-month period of time):  Normal range in a person with no trace of diabetes:  4.5 to 6.
Before:  11 on 4 kinds of insulin and 5 kinds of oral pills    Friday:  5.0  on no medications

Blood pressure:  Normal range is equal to or less than 120/80
Before:  160/110    Friday:  110/69

Resting heart rate:  Normal range 60 to 100 bpm
Before:  110 to 120 bpm    Friday:  61 bpm

Total Cholesterol:  Normal range less than 200
Before:  280    Friday:  165

I’m definitely not throwing these numbers out there to be all LOOK AT ME AND MY BURGEONING EYEBALLS!!!!!  I’m putting these out there to show my pals who are on 8000 medications and in the depths of despair that it is possible to turn it all around… and you don’t have to be at what society deems as a normal weight to do it.  Just some hard work (it IS hard work… put down that magazine telling you there’s an easier way… NOPE… there’s not!) and persistence and you got yourself a dagnabbed page of laboratory values worthy for some refrigerator hanging time.  Tell your kids to move one of their sloppily drawn masterpieces… you got something to hang up… preferrably NOT with the free Pizza Hut magnet.  As if!  Do it, my pals!  You got this!

Question of the Day:  How have your lab values changed since losing/gaining weight?  

 

 

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I’ll Take The Biggest One You Have…

The saga of the pants continues.  If this keeps up, I’m going to have a whole dagnabbed pants soap opera to pitch to the networks.  As The Pantyhose Turn… Days of Our Pants… General Pants-pital… all destined to be major hits, don’t talk back to me!  Since I haven’t liked really any of the pants I’ve tried on in stores around town (they all fit… it’s just I am super self-conscious about the bane of my existence… no need to focus more attention on that sucker), I decided to go the online route.  Old Navy was my first stop and I got this huge-mongous box full of pants in the mail last week.

I have a history with clothing and sizes.  For several years I’d just have to order the largest size they had (in the extended sizes… which is one up from the plus sizes which is one up from the misses sizes which is one up from the people who wear sizes 0 through 3 which is one up from the invisible people section).  I just ordered the biggest size they had without thinking and without measuring and then crossed my fingers that it would fit.  Sometimes it would… a lot of times it wouldn’t, which is a horrible feeling when you can’t fit into the biggest size the catalog offers in the extended sizes!!  Not that many stores even offer extended sizes anyway, so I always had to purchase from specialty stores who specialized in making tents on the side.

Shopping Old Navy online a few weeks ago, I went right back to my tried and true, buy the biggest size they have in the pants section… truly not optimistic that I’d even be able to pull them up past my knees.

That just goes to show me how skewed my perception of myself is… and how I’m still stuck in the land of 530-poundville.  The pants, all of them, were too big… all of them were the regular jeans/nonstretchy pants that I’d never ever  been able to wear in the past, but I still couldn’t fathom that I’d be able to wear them… even 230+ pounds later.

I don’t know if a change in the way I see myself will gradually come as I get smaller… and I hope that it does… but at this juncture I still can’t see the changes in my body when I look in the mirror.  I think I’m a special case in that I had so much to lose that a lot of my bulk is hanging skin (TMI ALERT… oops warned you too late, didn’t I?) and so there is no real way to see any body shape under all that hanging flabness… which is frustrating on one hand… but on the other hand, I just need focus on the fact that I am lighter than I used to be.  I finally went and did my measurements for the first time in a year… there were inch to inches lost in pretty much every area… most notably the 5 inches off of both my waist and the bane of my existence… it’s shrinking… slower than a turtle at a Tar Convention… but shrinking nonetheless.  Sit down, shut up, and be patient…  Meanwhile, guess I have to return these pants and think about ordering smaller.  Brain space… work with me here!

Question of the Day:  What is your dream pants size?  The size you’d be happy at?  

Happy weekend, friends!  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… in prison!  😛

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Jean-Tastic…

It turns out I’m still wearing the exact same pants I did nearly 240 pounds ago… EXACT same.  No joking around.  I have about 8 bajillion pairs of the same exact black, stretchy, elastic waist pants.  Dead serious.  They’re the same size I wore when I weighed 530 pounds.  Part of it has to do with the fact that they come with built-in elastic… there’s a LOT of give in elastic… you can wear them at pretty much any size and save moola in the process.  The other part of it is I have this really annoying bane of my existence apron extension that seems to require mucho camoflaugization… and if I wear a tighter pair of pants, I might as well just tape a fluorescent pink sign on my bane that says… LOOK AT ME… I”M GROTESQUE AND ANNOYING… and I GET JIGGY WIT IT WHEN SHE MOVES.  That was totally a disgusting description, but it’s the truth… and now I’m going to have 8 bajillion blog readers discretely trying to check out my stretchy pants/bane next time they see me in public.  Look away from the apron… I ain’t afraid to call the bane police!

Now it’s just getting ridonculous.  I have a hard time keeping the suckers up even with the built-in elastic and I usually end up pulling them up to my neck region just to give them enough time to inch their way down throughout the day.  Thankfully, they’ve never inched all the way down to my ankles in public.  I usually have a good grasp on how to pull the suckers up when they hit mid bane.  I’ve even resorted to safety pins and wearing tight undershirts just to give them something to hold themselves up with.  I think it’s time I find me a new pair of elastic-waisted black pant uniforms.  Durrrr… you think?

Last week I tried on a bunch of pants at the store… my least, least, LEAST favorite thing in this entire universe to do… LEAST… 2nd would be kidney stones… and 3rd would be getting beat up by Bieber Fever.  Of course, all the ones I tried were elastic waist and stretchy… but just for kicks and giggles, I also threw in a pair of jeans just to see how far up my thighs I could get the suckers.

I’m trying to remember the last time I wore jeans.  Jeans with an elastic band waist do NOT count… I’m talking jeans with no elastic whatsoever in any form on any orifice.  Just plain jeans.  I’m still thinking on how long it’s been… wait for it… I couldn’t tell you it’s been that long.  It had to have at least been 14 or 15?  Maybe?  I sat in the dressing room with a big ole silly grin on my face after I pulled on those nonelastic waist pants, buttoned, and zipped with no problem at all.  Of course, there was no way in Richard Simmons’ fanny pack I would have ever worn them in public… we’re talking about jumbo muffin top AND flashing neon arrows pointing to my bane.  Just the fact that they fit me was good enough for me.  Last year I tried on a pair just for fun and I couldn’t even get them on… even if weight isn’t being lost as fast… inches are coming off in some places… and that lights a fire under the rear for me to want to keep on moving forward… as if I had a choice anyway!

Question of the Day:  Do you have a favorite pair of jeans?  What brand is your favorite? 

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The Land With Sugar!

I haven’t been to any concert concerts this year.  There was a time when I attended them ALL… all of ’em… but then it got too difficult with the bane of my existence making seating near impossible… and the fact that venues do not let you pick an aisle seat on the floor in a chair without arms just made me give it up completely.  Take that, you overly priced concert people!  Me and my bane will just sit on the couch and eat us some Pizza Hut and watch us our stories on the Food Network (yes, they have stories on the Food Network… that one about how the pizza married the calzone… that was so touching)!  And all the Pizza Huts are mourning the loss of my weekly calling sessions.  Take that, you greasy deep dish heart attack!  Oh, I still have it on occasion… just not once a week with my slice being circular instead of triangley.

Oh good gravy… this topic is NOT about pizzas, Whitney.  MOVE ON!  So, anywho… my first concert in a while was Sugarland in Salt Lake City on Saturday night.  I measured the stadium seats with my butt when I broke into the local football stadium earlier this year and even though I found I could fit into them, I still bought myself 2 seats so I wouldn’t squoosh the person next to me… and okay, I admit it… I’m dagnabbed PARANOID!  That’s also not counting the 4 other seats I “accidentally” bought when I realized that the “Sugarpit” is a standing only thing… heck if I’m going to stand for 4 hours straight in my rocking horse shoes.  We eventually sold 3 of the 4 other seats to a random girl from the Internet… which left us with one (and my extra butt seat).  Thanks to Holly for coming along… I know it couldn’t have been easy living around these 3 jacked up folk with brain issues for so many hours in a row.  It was fun, though… we should do it again!

Holly, Madre, and Lindser chillin' between wind and rain gusts.

Turns out, I fit into the dagnabbed seat just fine, so didn’t need the 2 seats… though I’m still convinced that Lindsay and Madre, sitting on either side of me, were a bit scrunched… even if they kept saying they weren’t.  It didn’t really matter in the long run because when you be sitting in a concert that serves beer, you don’t actually get to sit in your seat for more than 35 seconds at a time.  There’s a secret circle amongst concert goers… goes a little bit like this… shimmy through row for beer run, make EVERYBODY on the row stand up so beer dudes can get out, come back to row with 2 beers, make everybody stand up so they can get back to their seat… and then when they’re done drinking their two 24-ouncers, they have to make a potty run, so then EVERYBODY in the row stands up again, and then they come back with… you guessed it… 2 more beers in each paw.  It’s like a neverending cycle of ridonculous!  On the upside, I did get aquainted with a lot of people’s hair follicles as they tried to drunkenly shimmy past me.  I should have asked to sit in the nondrinking section… it was a sign when I sat behind a girl who was wearing a tank top that said VODKA in big letters on the back of it.

Sara Bareilles was the opening act and she was cute as a button singing all of her hits like Love Song and King of Anything and my personal favorite, Gravity.  Which almost did not get sung until I telepathically sent her a message that she could not leave the stage without singing my favorite song and she got right to it on her way off.

Sara Bareilles singing with Sugarland's, Kristian Bush...

Then there was a big ole intermission while they set up the stage for Sugarland, which was pretty much bare bones seeing as all of their equipment, set, and instruments got crushed in the aforementioned tragedy.  We took this time to make the people at the end of our row do what we had been doing for 2 hours now… stand up so we could go get us a beer!  We settled on some roasted nuts and a show by a lady wearing a silky slip dress in 50 mph wind with polka dotted boxers on underneath it.  At least she was wearing the boxers… GLORY HALLELUJAH for that.  And by the by… if you were curious, no I did not ask her to lift up her dress so I could see her boxers, the wind did that for everyone else in the vicinity.  Two shows for the price of one!

Lindsay and Madre posing by the star of the show!

I went for the cashews with the happy dude on the front of it:

Then it was time for the main attraction… the two 65-year-old stylish women in the Sugarpit.  I swear to you they were dancers on the original Solid Gold dance show (that was a show right?)… SWEAR!  They were busting up a drunken move… and probably a couple of hips in the process.  I done recognized some of their dance moves… since most of them were from my 90s aerobics classes… the famous touch the elbow to the knee move, sway drunkenly back and forth leaning on some other drunken stranger move, climb over people’s heads to dance with random other drunken people 5 rows back moves.  They had them ALL down.  Jennifer Nettles (of Sugarland) even pointed them out one time, saying, I see you 2 crazy women.  Despite having no fancy set like the last time we saw them and no costume changes, Sugarland knows how to put on a show.  It was a fun concert and I’d go again… despite the beer run shuffle.

Sugarland sugaring it up!

I’m mad at myself, though.  On the way home, Holly, Madre, and I ran into the Asphalt Moses… seriously!  I ain’t joking you!  Ask anyone I know.  He was a construction worker (apparently it’s hard times since Biblical days).  He was wearing his head wrap with band tied across it and was holding his shovel up like he was about to part the dagnabbed road with his staff.  And he had a beard!!!  I was mad because I didn’t get proof with a picture… Madre was in no mood to be embarrassed by her daughter asking some random construction worker at midnight if he’d give me his Mose-agraph (that would be a Moses autograph)!  Such a shame too… I could have had my real copy of the Bible autographed.

Question of the Day:  What’s the last concert you went to?  If you haven’t been to a concert recently, who would you like to see perform live and why? 

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Who The Crap Is Tony!?

Tony… Tony Grove that is.  My evening adventure tonight included a jaunt up Logan Canyon to spend the evening/night at Tony Grove Lake and do my version of a “hike.”  Not all this straight up the mountain crapola on a biscuit.  Stop the insanity, Yogi Bear!  Just a nice little trail walk around naturey stuff… a few inclines… a few declines… a few rocks… and beauty a plenty!  Bring me that, please!  I didn’t even need my hovercraft invention for this sucker.  Madre came with me and of course where there are flowers to be stolen, Madre will steal them… I tried to be the flower-stealing police, but she still walked away from the place with a huge armful of illegally gotten goods… case in point…

She was also on this kick of complaining that we did not bring a pic-a-nic, which reminded me of my sweet Gramsy Berger, who loved herself a good pic-a-nic… especially if it included her favorite feeeesh.  I had to stop Madre from horning in on everyone else’s picnics on several occasions… she even went so far as to ask some fishermen/women if they were having any luck with the feesh, in hopes that they’d be all like, sure and why don’t you come on up to our campfire and partake of our feesh and loaves!  Instead we had to make due with blueberry rice cakes, water, and an apricot which just so happened to be stowed in the car trunk.

Back to the adventure.  I hadn’t been to Tony Grove since I was a teenager… even thought it’s about a 45-minute drive up the canyon.  Bad idea, Whitney.  I’d forgotten how beautiful it was up there.  It has surpassed the beauty of any of the other hiking/day trip adventures I’ve been on this summer.  Bear Lake is pretty, 2nd Dam is pretty, Spring Hollow is pretty, Green Canyon is pretty… but Tony Grove was breathtaking!  I think I broke my camera taking so many crapified pictures.  It was also freeing.  I hiked me that trail with no problems whatsoever… no complaining about sweating or feet issues or it getting dark, etc.  I survived crossing a broken bridge:

Climbed up a rock and sat my receptacle on a fallen tree trunk… never would have had the confidence to do that before… can’t heft my weight up that rock… I’ll totes fall off the tree… etc., etc., etc.

 

But mostly, we just took in the nature… total spirit booster, mood lifter, and all around good thing!  There was a quote I snapped a picture of on one of the signs around the trail… pretty much sums it up:

You said it Bob… even if you did pass on tragically young.  We’re already planning our next venture up to the lake… pic-a-nic in tow this time… I’ll take a pass on the feesh, though…

Question of the Day:  Where’s the last naturey place you went to?  Any recommendations? 

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A Perspective Is Worth A Thousand Gremlins…

Pictures, pictures, pictures… why do you peeve me off so?  Not pictures of other people… no… never.  But, pictures of myself from the shoulders down about throw me into a dagnabbed conniption.  I try to avoid them at all costs, but I happened to look at a recent one this morning… one of me all smiley and hallelujah-ey standing next to skinny folk and I wanted to bawl.  I look like that!?  STILL!?!?!?!  Really!?!?  I look in the mirror.  I look in the mirror every dagnabbed day and while I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror, I don’t think I look that bad.  But pictures… pictures are 25,000 times worse and this one made me pissed off.  Pretty sure a beached whale looks smaller than I did in that picture.  And then I get that stupid gremlin dude that lives up in my noggin jabbering in my ear about what a failure I am and that I should probably go buy a cake from the bakery and down the whole thing to soothe my sorrows.  223 pounds lost should look frigging amaze-balls!  Instead, I’m stuck wondering how many whole watermelon, rind and all, I can fit into my gut with overflow in the bane of my existence.  I think too much… I need to remove my brain and try to sell it on the junk-to-treasure section of eBay!

It’s not like this has never happened before in my LONG ole journey to the land of normal-sized clothing.  It’s happened many times along the way, but I always seem to freak out and think that I’m going to turn back into that one chick who didn’t care.  She just let herself go, quit counting her calories, and took up residence on the elected couch cushion for days on end.  It’s low self confidence that causes this.  If I was a more confident person, I could just brush it off as the lighting was bad or I wasn’t standing up straight or that camera SUCKS… and move forward.  So, we’re going to have to get some perspective here… ignore me while I smack myself in the head.

Type 2 Diabetes… Gone… I was diagnosed when I was 16 years old and I went from insulin shots at least 4 times a day (with several different kinds of insulin) AND countless oral pills, to half of a pill… and that is just for precautionary purposes.

Sleep Apnea… gone… went from wearing a nasal cannula oxygen mask with an oxygen machine that sounded like a freight train was passing through my room to NO oxygen.

Car Seat Belts… can wear (most of) them now… no extender necessary.

Walking… can do it… Used to be after 5 minutes I was ready for a nap… and my reserved bed in the intensive care unit.

Tying shoelaces…  done… I used to have to stand up and put my foot on a chair to tie them… and even then the whole time I was gasping for breath.  Now, I can actually sit in a chair, bend over and tie my shoelaces.  People… you take that for granted… it is a glorious feeling!

Shirt size… am fitting into a 2X now (depending on the brand and fabric)… used to be a 6X.

Biking for the first time as an adult.

Chairs with arms/Booths… Can fit into most of them now.  Most… not all.  I will get you, you freakishly small Eccles chairs!

Brain just fell out, so I’ll stop here.  Whitney… listen up, pal… next time you decide to look at a full length picture of yourself… do yourself a favor and don’t… unless you want to add another watermelon to that gut of yours!

Question of the Day:  What are your list of accomplishments?
What topic would you like to see more of in this blog of mine? 

Also… have a fantabulous last weekend in July (and tell the summer to slow down… it’s going wayyyyy too fast!)

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Do You Wanna Hang Out and Watch Paint Dry?

I would describe myself (especially in the past) as somewhat socially awkward.  Pretty sure it stems from the fact that I had absolutely zilch confidence or self esteem, so why the heck would anyone want to hang out with me?  Nothing I had to say was worth hearing.  At one point I actually felt sorry for the people who had to spend time with me… what a boringly uninteresting individual!  That would explain why in social situations I would keep to myself, have a hard time making eye contact with anyone, and if I wasn’t making some sort of lame joke, I wasn’t talking… especially about myself.  I HATE talking about myself (which is quite ironic since I seem to have diarrhea of the mouth or fingers, in this instance, on this here blog).

I’ve gained a LOT of confidence over the last 2 years as I’ve been losing weight… A LOT!  I would never, ever venture to invite someone to do something with me before.  I didn’t want them to have to “be nice” and say yes just because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings.  The last few months, I’ve been busy socially.  Busier than I have ever been in the past.  I’ve met blog readers for the first time (what up Bridgett, Katrina, and Dorothy), attended family events (howdy Aunt Deanna, Uncle Max, Seth, Jen-Jen, and fam), been to several dinners and movies with friends (yo yo Tia, Karrie, Rachel, and Amy), had actual conversations with neighbors, and just have shown my big head (no matter how much weight I lose, I will always be big-headed… it’s in the genes) at places it never would have graced in the past.

I’m sure I’m still as awkward as one of them 3-horned potatoes on a turnip truck, but I think it’s good to have practice… and I find that I’m not as frenetic and always-thinking-of-the-next-joke-to-get-out-of-having-a-serious-conversation-because-I’m-not-bright-enough-to-say-anything-smart way of thinking.  So, friends… thanks for putting up with this ole broad.  I’m a work in progress, but give me approximately 32 more years and I should have it down pat!

Question of the Day:  On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you grade yourself socially?  Why do you say that?

Picture Note:  Tonight’s dinner with MFP pal, Dorothy…  It was so dagnabbed good I almost ate the pineapple shell…. Vegetable fried rice in a pineapple shell… who knew how tasty that would be?

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