I did not write about last week’s Reality Check weigh-in because I got scared and did something on my no-no list.

No, I did not gain weight. I lost just enough to land on a “new” low number, which pretty much explained why an oh too familiar, deep throbbing ache had settled into my spine.

Some numbers are just bad. I assume it is a distribution thing, how the body carries itself as a weight loss or gain can change the stress factors on the spine. All I know is I hurt and it was not the “normal” bull from doing too much. I push my limits to the edge of pain all the time, back off, pay for it with “hobble days” and do it again. That’s how I have improved bodily function, increased mobility, etc. Oh geez… I am already saying too much.

Perhaps I should explain?

SHORT VERSION: I live with disability. In the best of times, it is no big deal. The worst? Pure unadulturous torture. I will do anything to avoid “killer” spasms as I am a big ol’ chicken-wuss, a little-wittle baby when it comes to pain that rocks right off the frikkin charts. No joke. Killer spasms make me scream involuntarily.

So you see? I can deal with the normal bull, but the kind of ache that pre-curses horrid spasms scares the hell out of me.

Desperate times call for drastic action. After weighing myself for the Reality Check last weekend, I made the harsh decision to put myself on a diet even though dieting is my number one binge trigger.

So far, so good… that bad ache is starting to fade. It is no longer constant throbbing, just comes and goes, so maybe diet one more week? I just want to get as far below that bad number as possible ASAP, then I can go back to doing the intuitive eating thing.


LATER: I saved this as a draft, walked away debating between posting or deleting. I must be wacked in the head as it is so bizarre to be willing to talk about the messed up secret world of binge eating disorder but unwilling to talk about disability. I think it is the pity factor. It pisses me off when people look at me with sad eyes. I don’t have time for other people’s self pity directed at me because that is precisely what it is: people saddened because I can’t do whatever it is that they like to do, going weird on me imagining how they would feel if they couldn’t do it anymore, and most of the time it is something I would never have taken a notion of doing anyway. So what if it takes me longer to do some things, if I stand crooked, or come off looking like a frikken cartoon now and then? Life is what it is, roll with what comes, play the hand as dealt. What’s my choice here? Wallow in misery or find the humor? I prefer to laugh.

Tell you a twist on something my grandma Goldie used to say: “all you get out of this world is what you eat, drink, or smoke…” and if you are really lucky, you might just get to love someone along the way.

See, that’s it. Simplistic view of life, what really matters. Love, peace, art, laughter… I feel blessed.