Superbunny Wins Again!

I have bad health problems. I don't think it's because I'm fat, but rather the other way around. I have an unnamed, undesignated autoimmune disease that has caused all kinds of fun symptoms from anisocoria to extreme fatigue to dizziness to joint degeneration to headaches to muscle pain and now most recently to inflamed eyes and vision loss. I have a leaky heart valve and an arrhythmia. They found over twenty tumors in my breasts back in February, and though thank god they weren't cancerous, they are a concern.  My mother has/had breast cancer which spread to her lymphatic system, was diagnosed fairly young, and they want to remove my breasts. I am in pain every single day, some days to where I don't know how to get through. Just now I had a bout of arrhythmia which was really hard to shock myself out of and back into rhythm.  (I did, of course, before passing out or needing an ambulance, etc.)  But it scared me. I want to stay here. Even if it means

Oh, hi.  Remember me? I'm not a patient person. (I just got distracted.  Remember that song that starts out with the guy singing, "I'm not a perfect person... There's many things I wish I didn't do..."  How simpering does he sound?  He sounds so whiny and corny, right?  I love that song.  I actually do.  I wouldn't turn it off if it came on the radio because it's fun to sing, and it's all "AND THE REASON IS YOOOOU," and I believe in blaming or praising other people instead of taking credit or accountability, myself.) I'm kidding.   And kind of not. I'm a mess right now, because I'm sick and stressed out, and I've been trying this gluten-avoidance, low-sugar, low calorie, natural diet for almost three weeks now, and I've lost a grand total of four pounds, that's it. FOUR pounds. I'm swimming or working out every day, despite the fact that my feet hurt so bad some days I can barely walk.  (That's

A haiku: Two days gluten free. I dream of breakfast pastries; Do donuts miss me? Honestly, it hasn't been that bad.  I have actually made it through 48 hours without gluten, and if you think that sounds simple, that just tells me (1) you're allowed to have it and (2) you've never tried cutting it as a lifestyle. We started out bad (well, "bad") as the weekend came to an end, deciding to go ahead and have a "cheat" day on Sunday. Shasta D Zasta and I both had the day off from work, allowing us to go to the grocery store for veggies to prep food again. "Cheating" in this case meant spending money to eat outside of our home, rather than eating unhealthy food, though the two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive concepts.  I had not yet had even one full day of cutting gluten, and the boys were going on about Steak N Shake or Firehouse Subs, and I knew they were going to eat there.  There was no way I was going to sit and watch

When I decided to quit smoking, I had numerous false starts.  I eventually did give up the habit, though, and in time, my hair smelled great, as a rule. I say that in a sad attempt to make myself smell great now, because... man, I'm stinking at this. DAYS 2 AND THREE, in which our heroine treats food like heroin. It all started with a messy-haired squeak and a mad-dash hunt for my car keys on Thursday morning. Because I was so charmingly late to get out the door for work, I left my prepped food in the refrigerator and realized it about ten minutes into my commute.  Womp-Womp. So I'm starving and working and trying to debate whether it's worse to starve or just go ahead and eat something cheap and forgive myself for one day, when I decide that some sugar and caffeine will help clear my head.  Swipe that card for a coke can, yeah!  Hello, Darkness, my old friend... Coke is my coffee. I don't drink coffee for one very simple reason.  I don't drink coffee be

DAY ONE. I am 5'8.  I weigh 218 lbs.  I am considered obese.  I see pictures of myself seated and I am horrified. I am nice and funny and reasonably smart... and fat. Having spent all of my youth underweight and struggling to keep fat on my bones, I now can't shake it.   Bizarrely, I still think of myself as fairly thin or average, and when I see these photos, I am shocked and dismayed.  I despair at the cute clothes staring at me from my closet, clothes that no longer fit me. It's a long road, and I know, I know, I know that I have to think of these changes as a lifestyle rather than focusing on it as a weight loss project.   Sure. Fine. Sign me up for a new healthy lifestyle, but can we get to the part where I feel cute in little dresses again? Hold on. I'm going to call my son in here and ask him to take my picture.  I'm currently slumped over my laptop on a bed, with a gross tshirt on, my hair ends coated in conditioner, greasy-faced and dejected.   Ther

What if you pressed fast forward on your dvd, and you saw it squizzle by at high speed for a while, and you pressed play again, and you saw the exact same things happening on screen as were happening before you even pressed fast forward? WELCOME BACK TO THIS BLOG. First off, I don't even remember creating this blogger account, but I came here to make one and saw that it instantly logged into my old one.  Hmmm, that's strange.  What did I post? OH!  JUST THE SAME THING I COULD POST RIGHT NOW, EXCEPT IM LIKE THIRTY POUNDS HEAVIER. Okay, so let's start over. I'm going to start detailing what I eat (accountability), make up characters to match the food I ate, and post as that person (comedy? tragedy?), and photograph the food (art! just kidding. just self torture). Maybe having it seem more fun/silly will keep me interested, and on the off chance any of this works or makes me sick, I will have dutifully logged my food intake, so I can recount it tearfully to docto