of being fat again.
I said it.
Hopefully that's the first step towards my recovery.
Ever since my Lapband appointment last week, I find myself in this very odd place.
A place I haven't been in well over 2 years.
I mean....I only gained 2 pounds.
And, for all I know, those visiting pounds might be gone already.
But, since I swore off the scale until February 1...how would I know?
But, let's be honest....I don't think it's the 2 pounds that are making me this way.
I am pretty sure I'm going over the deep end over the fact that my band is filled to capacity.
Now, this is very bizarre.
When the rest of my Lapband friends are trying to get to the holy grail...aka THE SWEET SPOT...I am freaking out about the fact that I am at the sweet spot.
Yeah, I need to get a grip!
I'm doing nutso things.
Like waiting for my pants not to fit.
I mean....literally waiting.
As in--thinking they will get tight at any moment and then never fit again.
As if it will happen over a 24 hour period.
Or indulging in a little bit of ice cream--all the while thinking "there I go, sinking back into my size 22's"....
Or panicking that the dress I bought for my Godchild's wedding in July won't fit in July.
Wondering what the hell I will wear. That damn dress is just too perfect.
Feeling like I want to cry.
I'm so scared.
And, Carmen is not helping the matter much.
The gloom and doom fella that he is.
When I told him about the 2 pound weight gain--what did he say?
"I guess this means you are putting it all back on."
Couldn't he just say something like "what's 2 pounds over the holidays?"
No. Not my beloved.
He doesn't say much about the weight loss but he sure can kick me when I'm down.
Now I want to hide from him when I eat.
Should I be sticking my fork into his eyeballs instead of in my food?
Thank God I didn't tell him what has really been scaring the beejeebies out of me--the fact that my band is filled to capacity.
I can just imagine what he would say if I told him that---
Instead of telling me that I am crazy to worry and remind me that I still have my Lapband...he would increase my fears by getting all spastic on me.
He's not exactly a good person to have around when you need a rock to hold you up.
But, really.....this is not about him or what he says or doesn't say.
It's all about me.
I'm the one going crazy.
Is this ridiculous or what?
I mean....really.....it's all getting a bit out of hand.
My mind is racing with all these thoughts.
Crazy behavior is exhausting.
You know, it's very tiring being so consumed by weight.
No wonder it's so easy to throw in the towel when you are constantly worried about the next pound.
Pretty soon you are so tired of worrying about 1 pound or 2 pounds or 10 pounds, you just quit worrying.
And, you give in.
You just say enough.
Enough. Enough. Enough.
There's too many other things to worry about.
You don't want to worry about losing and gaining and losing and gaining.
Totally and utterly to-the-bone-exhausting.
That's why I always loved my band so much.
I didn't worry.
It was so freeing and felt so good.
Sure, I had to do the work.
But, I had this amazing tool.
Which I still have.
I know that.
I don't mean to talk in the past tense.
It's just that I have this fear..... And, I can't shake it.