Lupus Strikes Again.

Sonofabitch. I was doing GREAT last week: walking every day, eating well, gett'n stuff done around the house. Then Sunday hit, the weather changed, and BAM! lupus struck.

It's infuriating!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!

!

Seriously, all of a sudden it feels as though I was hit by a Mac truck. Tired (soooo, soooo tired), depressed, feeling utterly hopeless, headachy.

I hate being told what I can and cannot do. Especially by my own godforsaken body. Et tu, Brute?

Starting Weight: 250ish Pounds of Gorgeousness

When I first began (again) this journey towards better health, I was not what one would typically think a morbidly obese person would be like. I've always been blessed with high self-esteem (or... delusional narcissism, either way it works for me), so even at my highest weight I didn't see it. You know what I'm saying? Sure, I knew I had gained weight, but I was still figuring out the Lupus, the uterine issues, and dealing with the emotional upheaval of it all, so I gave myself a little leeway.

My weight didn't affect me the way it should have. If I were in my right mind, I should have been pissed, angry, or scared that I had allowed myself to become that unhealthy. I think over the years I'd become so p.c. that I no longer recognized what having the excess weight really meant. I had been conditioned to love people for who they were, not the color or shape of their bodies. So, in essence I ended up screwing myself over because I loved myself for who I was, warts and all.

Therein lies the problem, if you completely accept yourself for who you are right now, sometimes you don't see your flaws. I think that's how I lived for a very long time. I didn't recognize the unhealthiness of my ways - both physical and emotional. Don't get me wrong, I'm not meaning to generalize or say that you shouldn't totally accept yourself, I'm just talk'n about my experience.

<-- Take a look at this photo right here. I'm adorable, right? RIGHT?! *said with glaring eyes, one twitching slightly* My huge, sparkling personality really made up for my huge butt. I still had people giving me a lot of attention, my husband loved me unconditionally, and even though I was tired and sick, I was blessed.

There was only one friend of mine who actually said anything to me about my weight. He wasn't mean about it: he was just concerned, but when he said something it was really painful. I was pissed. How dare he? Doesn't he know what I've been going through? He has no idea how I've suffered!!

But really, I was embarrassed. He had called me out. In true Emperor's New Clothes fashion, he basically screamed out, "Dang girl, you nekkid!!!" I could no longer pretend that something wasn't wrong and that other people didn't see how big I had gotten. It still took a little longer before I did anything about it, but it got the wheels in motion.

A few weeks later, Elle and I joined Weight Watchers and started Fat Camp. We began at the end of July 2012 and I weighed in at 250.6 lbs (BMI of 44). Yeesh. From September to this February, I managed to maintain the loss through the increasing pain from my fibroids and endometriosis (was not fun). When I recovered from the hysterectomy, I began again.

What's different now is that I am starting to recognize the harm that the fat can do. It's not just "oh yuck, fat," it's really fucking up my organs and the inside of my body. Like, really. Seriously, I've got to give props to the Biggest Loser and the education that they provide on that show. When they would do the health consultations and explain how fat was hindering the body's natural state, it made an impact on me.

They talked about how obesity was similar to other horrible types of diseases and they constantly ask, "If you had cancer, wouldn't you take 2 hours a day for chemo?" Of course, the answer is yes, but most people don't see fat % as being as dangerous as cancer. In our society, we're fucking ourselves over with the shit we're putting in, on, and around our bodies and we just keep consuming.

Well, I, for one, am waking the fuck up. And I'm pissed at my ignorance.

The crappiest picture of me. Evar. Highest weight: 250 lbs.

Steel Cut Oats.

Today's adventure is all about steel cut oats. "Adventure?!" you might say. "ADFRICK'NVENTURE!!!" I would retort. For me, stepping into the kitchen is a miraculous and awe-inspiring thing. For the longest time, I've either been too tired, to sick, or too recovering-from-surgery to attempt anything other than a microwave dinner.

Luckily I have very high self esteem and don't let my inability to feed my family affect my woman-hood-ness. Damnit. With much rejoicing, though, I now have increasingly more periods of energy and have been toeing my way into that linoleum wonderland.

This morning I tried steel cut oats. First I had to spend 20 minutes searching the internet and reading about the difference between steel cut & rolled oats. I learned that they're basically the same thing except that the steel cut is less processed: the steel cut are just chopped up while the rolled are steam rolled for faster cooking time. Since my friend Elle had graciously donated a container to our home, I decided to try the steel cut.

I don't know about you, but it freaks me out when I cook anything that creates a film or light, airy, floaty bit that waives at me from the stove. That's what happened when I got to the 30 minutes of simmering. I tried to remove the excess layer, but it would stick to the side of the pot or evaporate or disappear into another dimension... I don't know. It just made me very uncomfortable. At this point I was thinking how in the world does cooking oatmeal rock me to the core?! Oh gahd... ooooh gaaahhd...

Anyhoosies, I assembled the ingredients that are all the rage when making steel cut oats: "milk", raisins, almonds, flaxseed, cinnamon, sugar. Typically I only have some stevia and soy/almondmilk, but this time I figured I'd go all out. I was, after all, a new chef... creating... exploring...

Exhibit A.

I added the ingredients with fervor. I sprinkled bits of goodness to and fro. I felt an inner sense of accomplishment that, YES I TOO CAN DO THIS! I'm not gonna lie, the cinnamon did fight with me. But as you can see here (Exhibit A), I splashed its guts all over the bowl CSI style. SCREW YOU CINNAMON!

Overall it was a great accomplishment. It was tasty, but a bit sweet. I think next time I'll take out the raisins and sugar and add just a scoach of honey.

The most interesting thing that I learned from this experience has nothing to do with oatmeal. It turns out that I have been duped by the advertising. "Sugar in the Raw" is just plain ole crappy-for-you sugar that has been sprayed with molasses.

And "raw " sugar is no better, Nonas added. "People are very susceptible to marketing. And just because something is natural doesn't mean it's particularly healthy for you," she said.
Raw sugar isn't even really raw. It's just slightly less refined, so it retains some of the molasses. But there's no real health real benefit from it. "There's no more nutritional value in raw sugar than there is in white sugar or brown sugar," Nonas said. 

The Raw Facts on Sugar, ABC News 

Sonofabitch. *sigh*

And another thing, Weight Watchers (and every other diet guru) always says that oatmeal makes you feel fuller longer and that it's supposed to hold you over forever and ever and ever. I find that that's not the case with me. I'm frick'n hungry right now. I think I may have to go back to my eggs, cheese, and Ezekiel bread slice.

Extreme Makeover Weight Loss & Big Ole Stanky Lie Edition

I really want to like this show. Even though he's lipless and full of cheese, there's a part of me who just wants to adore Chris Powell for the innocent beefcake that he is tries to portray. But... this show is getting annoying. When I first started watching it, I happily ignored the lies (there's no way in hell that Chris stays with the contestants for 3 months, pft not even three days) after all it was entertaining and it did inspire me to... well, not really do anything in real life, but I thought about... one day... getting off my ass.

You can tell that the contestants never see him. And if you're reading this and overweight, you know that there's no way that these folks are losing 200+ lbs on their own. I'm not saying that it's not possible to do that in a year healthfully, but I'm just not buying that most of them are. I know that one of the early contestants, James Garrison, was talking smack about the show on his blog. He's since had to remove his sass, but excerpts can be seen here.

I think we all know (at least I hope we all know) that these types of shows are... massaged, let's say... to be entertaining. That's coolio, if it gets me to start thinking of my health enough to make a change, you can take me for a ride baby. I just wish that Chris et al. would give the audience some credit and make the show a little less liar-liar-pants-on-fire-y. And tone down the cheese... oh gahd... the cheeeese.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about:

:*(

Bad Lupi day (again). What people don't know about Lupus is that when you flare you get really emotional. I've been really sad today. :(

Living With Lupus.

Living with Lupus sucks balls. On top of all of the pain and overall crappy feeling, you have to deal with the social aspect as well. It's an "invisible disease" which means that there's no obvious outward sign that you're sick. The average person just doesn't know how to process the information; especially without a wheelchair, cane, cast, eye patch, sling, mechanical leg, whatever, to draw reference from.

I get it. For the longest time I bought into the "lazy" theory or the "if I just ate better and worked out" b.s. that everybody parrots to you when you mention the word "tired." Right before I turned 30 I remember telling my boss that I was feeling run down recently. His response was that I should hit the gym, implying that my overweight was the cause of my fatigue. I agreed with him until a few weeks later when I had a stroke.

We were able to joke about his advice later, but it dawned on me then that people don't know what the fuck they're talking about. Yes, I choose to believe that, in general, people are coming from a good place, but for the most part they really are just spouting shit they heard from magazines and TV shows.

Sorry if I'm all over the place. I don't feel well and when that happens, my mind doesn't work so well. Right now I'm feeling sad and angry. It's frustrating to have to deal with this shit. Pain. You know when you have the flu and your body is inflamed and you feel like sore all over? It's sorta like that. My hands feel like they're on fire and someone has run them over with a steam roller. I'm fucking tired. Like I haven't slept in weeks.

It's so fucking frustrating. I want to believe that I can control this disease, in tiny ways I can, but really it's got me by the ovaries (well, one ovary now). My life is being held captive by Lupus (I hate that bitch).

From San Diego Lymer

Tired.

Lupi day. Tired. So tired.