What's this place called?

I am numb. I went to therapy twice yesterday. Once, by myself, the other time with my husband. I don't know what to think, or do, or say. Writing this my be pointless, as everything I write is just the same things I keep replaying in my head day after day. Last night, my husband kissed me and I became more aroused than I can remember. I am ashamed of that. Yes, I am ashamed that my husband kissed me and I wanted him. I am incapable of being pleased right now. He has been too pleasing lately, too contrite: jumping up to get whatever I ask for, holding doors open, trying to anticipate my desires. I honestly can't remember if he was like this before I found out he had been cheating on me. I think he was, but now it seems false and just makes me uncomfortable. I told him to just be normal, how he always was, but when he talks and tries to joke around with me, I think how can he act like nothing has happened? I want him to touch me, but I can't stand to look at him. I can't stand sleeping in the same bed with him, yet can't bear the thought of him not being here. I am just so full of anger right now. Everything I feel is because of him and I shouldn't be feeling these things. Right now, my life sucks. Later today, or tomorrow, maybe things will be different. For right now though, I have lost my sense of normalcy.

Deposition To My Husband

I never imagined having these feelings. Never. Not with you. The one thing I was always sure of was your love for me. And it’s not that I don’t think you love me. I know you do, but now your love for me seems tainted somehow. With every new thing I learn, I become more convinced that there was something going on between the two of you. Do you not realize that sometimes you tell me the most mundane shit? Of trips for work? Of conversations you have with people I will never meet? I know you tell me things because we are sharing our lives. My point is, sometimes you will tell me in detail, line for line, things that happen during your day. That’s why I find it so hard to believe that never, not once, would you not tell me about going to her house and giving her money or running errands for her. Also, you say you went to her house three or four times to loan her money and twice to run an errand. You also said she paid you most of the money back, which would lead me to believe that you had seen her more often than the times you said. Because, when did she pay you back? And, what the fuck do you mean that you like talking to her because you felt needed? This whole time I have been asking you if there was any kind of attraction or attachment and you said no, absolutely not. In my opinion, you received emotional satisfaction by talking to another woman behind my back. I have to question everything now. I must. You have hurt and betrayed me. I told you that cheating was the worse thing you could do in a marriage. I have been here for six long, emotional years, staying with you despite reasons others might have left. I have loved you from a place inside myself that I never knew existed. My meeting you changed me forever. And now, this. What to do? I doubt anything physical happened between the two of you. But your calling her so much is what tears me apart. You called her numerous times a day until you finally got a hold of her. You called her when you were out of town on business. You called her when we were visiting my fucking family. You called her at seven in the morning. You called her on your way home from work. You called her every day for a week, several times throughout the last three months. You called her as soon as I walked out the door. You called her from work. You sent her text messages that said things like, just let me know babe or baby. You asked her, “r u mad at me”. How cute. I am so angry right now that I am blaming even this zit on my forehead on you. How dare you? To me? Remember how you told me that the one thing you were supposed to do in life was protect me and take of me? Yeah, neither do I.

Something Different

Tonight, I am feeling a little conflicted. So, I have something different to talk about. Last night, some time before midnight, I smoked my last cigarette. Now, I have tried to quit many times past, but I have a four week break in between class that just ended this past Thursday and the beginning of fall semester. I always have excuses for not quitting:

"It's too cold[up here in Michigan], I need the warmth of a cigarette."

"In between taking one class a semester and doing absolutely nothing else, I'm too stressed to quit."

And my personal fave: "I will kill you before I quit smoking and no one wants me to go to prison, right? "

Well, now I have four glorious weeks of nothing, or almost nothing to do. I have lost five pounds thus far and am in a highly agreeable mood. Wow, I am almost happy. I know a lot of people get pissy, because I have a good life. My husband has a good job, which pays well and has excellent benefits. I only go to school full time. I do attempt to clean every once in a while, but usually, I just end up moving the dirt and funk to different places, hoping that A) the cats won't rat me out and B) that my fairy godmother and /or magical cleaning elves will come and whisk all the dirt away. I think our house is being visited by Mr. Clean's evil twin brother, Mr. Not-So-Clean. Mr. Not-So-Clean swoops into houses (okay, mine) and rescatters dirt that has been artfully hidden under stoves and couches. He also dirties all the dishes, making one think that he/she (okay, me) had had a munchie fest at 4 a.m. Dude, who ate the doritos and the HoHo's? I am a highly negative, sarcastic person. It would be foolish for me to argue otherwise. But (ah, gotta love those but's) I do appreciate every single thing that makes my world. I love my husband, who is very good to me. And aside from physical things, he is everything a woman could ask for in a man. We have a place to live. It's not great, but it's not that bad; and a bonus is that every once in a while some trashy people will move and create some drama suitable to Lifetime tv. You know how I love me some gossip. We eat. Very well. All the time. Without end. OK, I guess that's enough to get the point across. All in all, I feel very lucky. I'm not happy, but eh, that's just me. I also think I have been doing quite a lot of talking out my ass. A nicotine patch and an entire pack of deliciously orange-flavored 4mg nicorette will do that to me. Toodle-loo. I'll be back if I survive these first few days.

Global Warming Is Bad. Very, Very Bad.

I hate this heat. I'm sure I'm not alone in this sentiment. We only have air conditioning in the bedroom, so I have to suffer any time I visit another part of the house. Last night, I actually had to go to bed because I was so hot. I was sitting here in the computer room, a fan blowing directly on me, and only the sickly blue light of my monitor bathing me. And I was sweating in places I didn't know humans could sweat. This heat really makes me aware of how big my body is, how clothes stick to me when I sweat and creep into crevices they ought not. My stomach has been hurting me lately. It's like I can actually feel how much weight I carry around my waist. I am uncomfortable in everything I do right now. I have been eating better. Actually, I haven't been eating that much. (Yeah, cause of the heat). By the time I get done cooking I am so hot, sweaty, and disgusting that eating is the last thing on my mind. So when we do eat it's been things like salad or sandwiches. Yesterday we had Asian salad with grilled shrimps and other yummies. Of course, we had a sugar-free/no added sugar sesame dressing. I have been thinking about taking pictures of when we cook something fancy. Maybe some recipes too. Eh, that sounds like a lot of work. Oh by the way, I am taking applications for a fan boy/girl. You know, one of those svelte aesthetically pleasing things that fans me with a giant feather while I lounge? No? Fine. Be that way.

Guilt and Shame! Only $22.95 a month! (plus tax)

I can't believe it's been this long, but over two years ago the husband bought me a three-month trial to a women's only gym. At that time, I was heavily invested in the low-carb diet and losing pounds quickly. I dreaded going to the gym. I dragged my feet,whined, cried, then quickly admonished myself. And, once I got there, it wasn't so bad. I never graduated past the stationary bikes: those ellipticals looked dangerous, and I figured I would definitely injure my clumsy ass. I would grab a trashy women's magazine, turn up my mp3 player and walk three miles on the treadmill to the beat of The Violent Femmes. I felt good afterwards. Three miles in an hour is a marathon for me. I felt so good that upon the end of my trial membership I signed a three-year contract. Signing my name 15 times on the dotted lines pretty much insured that I would never step foot in that gym again. And I haven't. That is so indicative of how highly I value my health. What is it going to take to realize this mass of fat surrounding my heart is going to kill me someday? I rationalize by saying I don't have any health problems, yet. I'm only 26. I've got plenty of time. But, my knees ache walking up and down stairs. I have to walk two flights of stairs to get to my class. I have contemplated taking the elevator. Would that be the last straw for me? Having to take the elevator because I'm so obese that I ache and get winded? I don't know. I do know that my motivation from last week is fading. I'm tired of thinking about food, what to eat or what not to eat, when to eat, where, how much. I want to get up and move around, sweat and ache from physical exhaustion, use my body as a physical machine, instead of just as a host for my sparkling charm and witty intellect. Only six more months and my membership will be over. So too will the guilt and shame. But hey, since I'm semi-human it's safe to say that somewhere, somehow, I will fuck up again. At least I never disappoint myself in that regard.

Willpower? No Thanks.

I think that one of the reasons I haven't been able to lose weight is because I have an abnormal view of my body. I know I weigh 245 pounds. I know I am grossly obese. When I look in the mirror though, I see how my body should look, not how it actually looks. My husband took a picture of me recently. I saw it for the first time tonight. I didn't know he was taking the picture and you can tell. It's the most unflattering angle, my head tilted forward, a mound of flesh where my neck should be. Two years ago, along with a lot of others, I started the low carb diet. When I started the diet, I weighed 275 pounds. I lost seventy. I never did see below that 200 pound mark, but I went from a size 26/28 to an 18. Needless to say, I slowly started slipping back into my old comforts, having a cheeseburger here and there, then back to eating fast food for lunch everyday. I know food is my drug. What makes it so hard for me to lose weight is that unlike other addictions, I have to eat. I know that when I run through a drive-thru, I'm not trying to stave off hunger... I eat without tasting. I take huge bites and swallow without chewing. I eat hunched over like someone is going to take my food away. I don't like to eat in public (I do, but I don't like it) because I am afraid I am going to eat the way I do when I'm alone. One of the things I'm doing right now, and had done for two weeks before the road trip, is making a menu for the week and shopping only for the food on my list. Most of everything has to be cooked to be eaten, so I don't have a lot of junk to mindlessly snack on. I haven't had any fast food since we returned from our trip. Ugh, it's going to take a lot of work. No willpower. I don't have that. When I do have willpower, it usually dissipates in a couple weeks anyway. Nope, just hard work and time. Huh... Whaddya know? I've got lots of time.

City of my Girth

My husband and I traveled to the city of my girth, pardon me, birth, over the weekend. Before that he was gone four days on business. Those first few days of being by myself usually result in several binges, fast food and sweets. The first three days, I did great. I cooked a healthy lunch, mostly stir-fry, before class and had leftovers for supper after class. But by the fourth day, I had eaten everything in the house, had spent hours upon hours writing a paper for class, and I was hungry. Starv-ed, some might say. So I went to Wendy's. Ok, not bad. I had a freschetta, supposedly healthier than, say, nuggets. But I had the fries. Still not that bad. But, um, I had Arby's for supper. Who can pass up 5 for $5.95? And.... (you knew there was an and) when I picked my husband up from the airport, he too was starv-ed. SO.... I took him to Wendy's and ate again at midnight. Yeah, I feel sick just thinking about it. The next day, my body was in Hell. I thought my body was in Hell before, but, nope, that was just Purgatory. That's still not the end. As I said before, we went to my hometown, which consisted of a six-hour road trip. Ahhhh, fun times. At least we rented a car with AC. But you know what I do with a six-hour road trip? Two of my favorite hobbies: irritate my husband and eat. Continued stuffing myself at three hour intervals the entire weekend. Got home Sunday evening and ordered a pizza. That was it. I decided that I need to prepare ahead next time, take along cooler full of healthy food or a g-tube. I made a delicious spinach salad for supper yesterday with a low (almost non-existent) sugar french dressing. If anyone ever reads this and would like the recipe, I would love to share. Tonight we are having slaw with an Asian dressing (sugar-free, but yummy), tons of veggies and grilled steak. I have discovered through my hilarious weight-loss adventures that even when I stuff myself on healthy-food, it's a different feeling than when I stuff myself on carbs. Because you know, if I can't stuff my face I wouldn't know what to do with myself.