Three months… doc said that he tells everyone to give it three months. Now those three months are up and I am still ye mostly blind in my right eye. I had hoped to be one of the lucky ones. The retinal specialist straight up told me, when pressed at my last visit, that most people don’t get it back.
I might just have to adapt… I get frustrated when I cannot do what I want to do, having a hard go working with little pliers, accidentally reaching next to the object I’m trying to hold, and such. I can no longer read a fast paced book cover to cover in one sitting, and some people like to take advantage of my lack of peripheral vision on that side to sneak by me (mischievous grandchildren) or up on me (playful vet) for their own personal amusements.
I tried to tell the vet what the doc said and got chewed out for thinking negatively. I should put it out of my mind, never speak the words out loud, have faith and flat out refuse to believe the vision loss may be permanent. Why, docs don’t know everything… just look at him. If he listened to VA docs, he’d still be unable to walk. Determination and sheer will… as if I can will my eyesight back.
Speaking of will, that man has decided to police the brownies.
OH. MY. GAWD.
I have binge eating disorder… the last thing I need is someone trying to “help” me lose the few pounds I gained over the holidays. HIS doc wants HIM to drop 15 by June… so when he says, “babe, June is coming… what are you doing with that brownie?” after HE just ate one, I’m like flabbergasted.
He doesn’t know what restricting my diet can do. Deprivation is an on ramp to the binge highway of hell. My goal has always been to eat like a normal person. People do eat brownies. They eat one… one now and maybe one later. It’s okay. They don’t wait and sneak a brownie when their man is gone, then freak out, eat the rest and bake another pan, then eat it down to exactly where it was before they removed the first brownie just so it looks untouched when he comes home. I am so NOT going to go there, so this policing the brownie shit has to stop.
Yes, I did ask him to be okay with me saying no to food now and then… like if he’s hungry and I’m not, don’t be upset with me if I opt not to eat. Or, when he fries four pieces of chicken for two people, be okay if I only want one… it doesn’t mean I don’t like it, just means I only want one. That’s what I meant by asking him to help me… I don’t want nor need anyone policing my food.
This may sound goofy, but it is a serious problem.
Since the brownie incident, I catch myself wanting to buy things that I can hide and eat in secret so he won’t know about it. Not necessarily bad things… raisins and nuts, like a frikkin squirrel. That’s really stupid. I can’t do this. I have to be free to eat like normal people.
I tried to talk to him about binge eating disorder but he related what I was saying to his own “sweet tooth” and it was obvious that he doesn’t get it, has no clue on how insane the behavior can get. It’s like trying to explain depression to someone who will tell you to just shake off the blues.
Thanks for reading!
March roared in with subzero chills on the kite wind. Winter stalked the Midwest all the way down south and up the east coast like a jilted lover who refuses to let go. The ides passed without a word. I did not make a March Res as the resolutions made for February kind of spitter spatted and stalled. (Spellcheck tells me “spitter” and “spatted” are misspelled. We can “spitted” and “spatter” and but not the other way around? OH WELL. Everyday lingo does not always sync with dictionaries.) Now where was I before red squiggly lines interrupted my train of thought? Oh yes, February.
I finally got wet. In March. Last week, to be precise.
After gathering up my courage and swim gear, I walked over to the YMCA to do some deep water walking and learned that my Y-PASS card had been deactivated. I had changed insurance companies, got a new Silver Sneakers card, so I’m guessing the Y dropped me during the transition. (Silver Sneakers is a perk offered by some insurance companies to old and/or disabled people.) She let me in anyway, and I was the only person in the shallow pool, which was not deep enough to keep my feet off the floor. I was also the only person in the locker room so I got a good look at myself in the full length mirror. The Y called me latter in the week to let me know that my Y-PASS works again, so now I am good to go.
The two piece swimsuit purchased to replace the baggy suit does not look nearly as cute on me as I thought it did.
To tell you the truth, and this may sound bizarre, my body actually looked better when I weighed 80 pounds more. I told my sister and she was all, “oh no… you look better now” but she’s seeing me with clothes on. Everything that used to just be big and rounded is now saggy and lumpy. I have folds where I never had skin folds before, lumps where they don’t belong. And it is going to get a lot worse and that scares me. I am afraid that by the time I am done, the skin on my tummy will hang to my knees and the skin from my knees will sag like capris. The bat wings will be so long that I will have to flip the skin around my arms a few times and secure it with scrunchies. I have this mental picture of how it is going to be and sometimes having a vivid imagination can dramatically exaggerate things, but I knew when I looked in that mirror that reality is not too far off. It scares me because I have heard horror stories of nasty sores, which thankfully I don’t get but then again, I take extra care to pamper that excess skin.
I am seriously thinking of putting myself on a diet. My weight has been stagnant, the needle barely moving up or down a pound or two for months on end now. I think the fear of excess skin has got me self sabotaging to maintain where I am as I don’t dare gain back any weight. My imagination goes extreme that way, too. It never goes on or off the same. If I gained weight, I imagine it would go to those lumpy areas and turn them into monstrous things attached to my body. Yeah… gaining weight is not an option. My best bet is just get through this as fast as I can, get it done and over with. I still have a lot of weight to lose before I would be a good candidate for skin removal surgery.
Ye gads… it leaves me with one question: Are navels optional?