I always wonder about the villains in stories.

Heroines are boring. Just another perfect paper doll, here to save the day and have an adventure. Gotta defeat the ugly and evil witch, rival, queen, whatever.

I’d love to find a story where the blue-eyed paragon of femininity and obedience is cast down. Why are these attractive women always the ones who have the “power of love?”

If you’re not hot or lovable enough to be the heroine, be the wicked witch. The evil queen. I’ve come to understand that’s my place in life. Not that I particularly wanted it, it just seems to be the case that if you look a certain way, you are shoehorned into certain roles.

Now I guess I’ll own it.


Good Enough (Older)

I like getting older. I like that I am finally unlearning the toxic teachings of society and childhood. I like that I am finally beginning to like myself, as I am. I like that I am beginning to care less about the approval of random people. I like that I am becoming truly more self-sufficient, rather than pretending that I was while still desperately seeking the approval of others.

Toxic teachings. Society teaches that it’s okay to have masculine interests, as a female, as long as you’re still feminine in the ways that make you attractive to men. My stepmother taught me that it’s not okay to have masculine interests at all. For too long I’ve tied the approval of others to being overtly feminine, and felt distress at the lack of it in me. However would anyone like me? As my stepmother said to my face,”You will never have a husband or boyfriend.”

She tried so hard to transfer her insecurities to me and to some degree, succeeded. The agony of the last 18 years since puberty is proof of that. She saw that I wasn’t being harmed by advertising and my peers at a pace she approved of, and made sure to inject that internalized venom into me. So that I could be broken in the way she was broken. But some part of me has always resisted. The part of me that my stepmother hated. The part of me that understood her disgusting message and refused to submit.

Maybe I would have fewer issues with playing feminine if I fully internalized that message: You’re not good enough.

I ask these questions, assuming a female audience. How closely do you align to the ideal woman? Are you “woman” enough? Do you practice “hygiene” by buying and applying expensive cosmetics? Doubting your value even through powder and cream armor? How long would the beauty industry last if we were all happy with ourselves? What kind of world would it be if women could achieve the status of “real woman” without having to buy a product?

Tying the identity of “woman” to pricey clothes and beauty products is an insidiously evil thing.

Society and advertising will never stop with that message. It’s too profitable. I will encounter people every day that will be put off by me, unable to gauge my adherence to norms at a single glance. It really is their problem, not mine.

I find my feeting more and more each day as I reject the path laid before me. My time and money are my own, and I won’t give it to artificial insecurities any longer.

Getting older, to me, means getting better. Knowing, rather than trying to believe, that I *am* good enough.

Bump In The Road (Down with the Sickness)

Thursday I woke up with a tickle in my throat. Friday I woke up with a sore throat and light coughing. Monday, I called off work. Last night, I got closer and closer to sleep when the uncontrollable urge to cough yanked me out and away.

Today, I feel like a shambling zombie with abs sore from coughing.

Saturday and part of Sunday I went off of Keto, but have been back on it since. I haven’t weighed myself, though I have a feeling I am back in ketosis. My pants are super loose today and I keep pulling them back up, which is promising. I rolled with the punches and immediately transitioned back to keto Sunday night.

Upper respiratory infections suck. I went to urgent care on Friday, where I was told I likely had a virus. That means no antibiotics, just cough syrup and a weird lidocaine gargle liquid which has a disgusting consistency.

My throat isn’t sore anymore. I’m just coughing nearly 24/7.

Wugh. Yesterday didn’t seem too bad. It’s the poor sleep I got last night that’s killing me today. Protip: If you take extended-release mucinex before bed, don’t be surprised when the DM portion of the meds (suppresses cough) doesn’t take hold for hours. No more of that, just cough syrup.

Good news everyone. I just checked my cabinet at work and instead of the doctor-prescribed cough syrup, which makes me super drowsy, I have an old bottle of non-drowsy cough syrup. Today just got better.

Maybe a weight update tomorrow. These pants being loose is so awesome, though it means I need new pants.


Another Obsessive Weight Loss Post

Barely a week on keto and I’m fixated.

The nicest thing about weight loss is feeling your fatty fat begin to loosen up, becoming more squishy as it disappears.

I also look forward to being able to see my hand tendons and collar bones again.

Another nice thing, I have boxes of clothes to re-open and try on as time goes by.

A note to potential weight-losers: always weigh yourself after the daily deuce. I weighed myself today, only to be disappointed, then an hour later I used the bathroom. Oh well, maybe tomorrow I’ll get a number I like.

I do this. I get so excited at the weight loss process. What’s my number today? Are my clothes starting to feel loose? I always want these things to happen so fast that I forget about what I have to motivate me when I reach my goal weight.

That’s why I gained back the weight the first time. I was so fixated on the weight loss I gave no energy to the thought of maintenance.

I’ve got to remember my primary goal: don’t feel like sh1t anymore. That is a goal that can stand the test of time, I think.

Last night I did my two mile walk and I sailed through it, even the quarter-mile slope of doom. My heart rate was far lower than the previous walk, on Saturday. I may need to start intermittently jogging. Not too much, because this weight bouncing up and down on my joints isn’t good. Small transitions to more and more speed and distance.

I need to get on the squat rack at home. I’m not looking forward to the DOMs, the soreness that lasts days for me. But I’ve put it off long enough. I’ve got powder protein drink that is keto safe. Time to keep that lean mass while the fat disappears. The first time I lost weight, I was lifting and running regularly and I kept all of my lean mass, which tends to decrease along with fat on a diet.

The body fat analysis I paid for at my lowest weight (155) indicated I had 122 pounds of lean mass. Anyone who likes to tell me I don’t have a large frame, there’s your flucking evidence. There’s no fat in that number, just skin and bone and muscle. My body, without ANY fat, weighs as much as an average, slightly built female.

It will be extremely difficult to go below 155lbs, because 155-122=33 lbs of body fat. 33/155 total is about 22% body fat. That’s on the lower end of the “fitness” body fat percentage, getting close to “athlete” level body fat. I tried to go that low. I stalled for quite a long time at 155, though, and my body was happy at that weight. I was fit. I miss that, and I’ll go back. And I’ll stay there, because being fit, for me, means not feeling like sh1t.

I could easily go, “waaah, waaah, I won’t ever have the socially-coveted “120lbs or below” weight that a woman is supposed to have.” In fact I did whine about it, in the past. Not any more.

I’m going to make a promise to myself: When the weight comes off this time, I’ll get the excess skin taken off once I’ve kept the weight off for two years, minimum. I will get surgery, and I will not pay attention to idiots who tell me “excess skin is fine, don’t get surgery.” It’s my goddamn body and my goddamn money, and I will modify it as I please. Can you tell I’ve had this conversation before? Because I have.

Garbage-Eating Misery Sloth

The Saturday sleepover with highschool friends went better than expected. My fears of being mocked were unrealized. Whoo, that was nice. Seems like the punches come when I’m not expecting and prepared for them, most times.

Diet is going well. I couldn’t keep to it on Saturday night and my weight has remained steady since I checked on Friday. I’ve done this before, though, and tomorrow I will probably be down another pound of water weight.

Exercising has been making some difference there, too. I’ll go hit the treadmill at the tiny work gym after I get done helping a coworker.. Some time before 3, I guess.

On the sleep front, holy hell I didn’t sleep much this weekend, but I feel fine today. Weird!

I don’t have too much of a rant in me today. Must mean the diet change and trying to exercise might actually helping. My goal is an ongoing goal: don’t feel like sh1t by being a garbage-eating misery sloth. It’s important that I stick to this goal, every day, for the rest of my days.

It’s weird to feel this way. That I have a blog post open and I don’t have any inner venom to release. Is this what the alleged “normal” feels like?

Guess I’ll type up a big old to-do list.

Gather and sort laundry.
Wash all laundry.
Question Husband about his random piles of clothes on the floor in the bedroom. They stinking it up in there.
Go through workout clothes drawer and find what fits. What doesn’t fit can return to the drawer once 5-10 more lbs are lost.
Vacuum everywhere. Keeps the house smelling nicer.
De-cat-hair-ify the couch and the cat towers.
Change the bed sheets.
Make up a keto-flu broth to keep the cravings down.
Purge the cabinets of old and stale food I can’t eat anyway.
Locate all keto foods and centralize location.
Once the deck dries up from the constant rain, blow off the leaves.
Wipe down the walls and blinds in my office

Aww yeah. This blog is exciting. /s

Keto, Loneliness, and Supplements

I forgot an anecdote from last night while I was shopping for keto food. So I’ve got bacon, cheese snacks, spinach, celery, you name it in my cart, and I began to head down the frozen meal aisle to pick up some convenience Atkins lunches. (Keto and Atkins are not the same thing, but close enough.)

As I get closer, I see a couple standing in front of the freezers and discussing the contents.

The guy asks, “Atkins? What’s that?”

The woman responds,”I don’t know, some stupid diet that doesn’t work. It’s bad for you.”

At that exact moment, I said,”Excuse me” and they politely back away from the freezer. I started pulling out frozen Atkins meals and put them into my cart. Behind me, I could hear the guy backpedaling. “Oh, maybe something changed and it works now.”

I didn’t acknowledge them in any way but internally I was split between laughing and resignation. I’ve heard a lot of ignorance from people who rely on 70’s nutritional science that they learned in 1st grade. /iamverysmart

I’m sure people are like,”Yeah, that happened.” The timing was just great. I walked up right as they started shit-talking. Awkward.

Ugh. Today’s Friday, and while I’m happy that it’s Friday, I feel so isolated. Husband’s barely been home the last few days, staying late at work to finish up a customer’s deliverable due today. And today he’s too busy to even chat a little. Guh.

I spend a lot of time watching Husband and Husband’s friends (the Goody-Goods) interact on a chat board I have access to. It’s nice. Makes me feel like they’re friends for a little while. Only, I can’t say anything or chat with them. Too weird, too scary, too un-likeable, too.. unwholesome? Buh.. I just want to talk about cats, tv shows, anime and memes with people. Need to keep busy, find something to do..

Oh, right, supplements. I can talk about supplements I’m taking. Super interesting. /s

I started taking a baby aspirin, four Elysium capsules, and four sulforaphane tablets a day, two of the latter with each meal.

I’m pretty excite about the sulforaphane. It’s some kind of wonder-molecule that primarily comes from broccoli sprouts, and has been touted (with scientific backup for much of it) to help with metabolism, slowing the pace of weight gain, diabetes, autism, you name it. Google that shi7 because I don’t have time for sources. My life is too fast paced, obv. I got a sulforaphane supplement that comes with an activator to increase bio-availability. Meaning I’ll absorb more of it then pee it out. Vitamins typically mean expensive pee. But you just have to find the right vitamins that create less expensive pee. The more you absorb, the less costly your pee is. Pee.

The Elysium? It’s useful, I think, but more useful for older people. Ah well. I really like the whole body-hacking thing. Body-hacking isn’t the right word for this.. Using substances to improve the working of mind and body, improving cognition and longevity. Nootropics covers the mind, but I don’t know if there’s an umbrella term for tackling both.

And now… END POST

Diet Diet Baby. Word to your Nutritionist

Ahh, the ketogenic diet. There’s something exciting about seeing the scale go down three pounds after the first day on it. Of course, it’s water weight at the beginning. But it’s definitely a psychological booster.

This isn’t my first rodeo. I’m good at losing weight when I put my mind to it. In a year I took off nearly 100 lbs. I let that all go to waste and languished back into my misery pit.

I’m done proving I can do things to other people. I enjoyed the praise and admiration of others when the pounds were flying off before. Now, I just don’t want to feel like shit. I don’t care about the aesthetic appeal of it. I barely care about the health appeal of it, mainly because I often feel like a weirdo that shouldn’t exist, but maybe I’ll care more as the pounds come off.

There’s something that I want. That I crave. I’ve always been obsessed with superheroes, elite athletes, you name it. Muscularity, power, fitness, I am so attracted to it, always have been. I want it for myself, as well. Which is pretty funny considering I’m a living bean bag chair. I can only have so much of it, as regrettably I am female, but I want to have as much power as my babymaking frame can give. I’m going to get fit. I’m going to get scary fit. I’m already intimidating to Husband’s friends? Well, guess how much more scary I’m going to be as a powerlifting kickboxing rock climbing Amazon. Muhahahaha.

That’s right, powerlifting, not bodybuilding. Bodybuilding for women is.. eh.. I mean, if you want to, do it. If you like it, more power to you. Men or women, I’m just not into it, unless the bodybuilders are lightweights/very lean. The more extreme they get the more I don’t like it. If you can’t fit through a door because of how much bulk you have, or can’t put on a shirt by yourself, that’s too much. That’s way too much. I think what bothers me about bodybuilding is that it seems like the focus is more on aesthetics, not strength.

Ahhhh. Tonight I think I’ll go home and restore the home gym to its splendor. Husband redoing the floors down there means our garage is now full of about 50% of the gym stuff.

Don’t have much else to say, but… POWER, GET POWER! GIRIGIRIĀ genkaiĀ made!

Sick and Tired

I called off of work yesterday. Until around 6:00PM, I spent my time surfing the internet, obsessing over my husband’s friends, and feeling paralyzed. As usual. My mood got worse and worse, getting to a tipping point where I was walking around the house and talking to myself, savage, mean things. Then I had a breakthrough moment: I decided I was sick of it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

So I got my ass up and took a two mile walk. The first time in months, maybe a year, that I voluntarily chose to exercise.

I can’t think that just lazing around feeling sorry for myself helps in any way. It doesn’t. Doing something over and over and expecting different results is insanity. Barely feeding myself, and when I do, overdoing it, leads me to feel like shit and increases my weight. Not going to bed at a sane hour and then sleeping in makes me feel like shit. Not showering because I’m just going to be dirty again very soon (from housework) makes me feel like shit.

It’s important for me to realize that I’m not helping myself when I let everything go. The only way to recharge my mental energy is to DO things, not by not doing things. I’m getting better at telling when I’m putting myself into a slump. I need to practice realizing it and getting up and doing something, whether it’s exercise or housework.

The important realization for me is that regaining control over sleeping, eating, and exercising is important for both mental and physical health. After I took my walk, I stretched and took a shower. I went out and got my hair cut, finally. I’ve been more and more afraid of leaving the house. Afraid of other people’s judgemental eyes. But I did it. Then I bought more water and low carbohydrate meal bars. After that I went to Wal-Mart (ugh) and bought some cheap, cheap workout clothes. A side note: If you’re looking to lose weight, don’t be ashamed at shopping somewhere you don’t like to get affordable workout clothes. I bought a couple of men’s 2x and 3x shirts that were baggy and loose. The worse thing about exercising around other people when you’re obese and have a pannus (stomach that hangs down) is that pannus flopping around in tight, fitted clothes. It’s extremely observable and gross. Hence, the baggy shirts.

After clothes shopping, I started to feel ill, and I realized that I had gone on that two mile walk and then didn’t eat anything afterwards. No doubt I am pre-diabetic, because I knew right away from the feeling that it was a blood sugar drop. I felt so bad that I knew if I closed my eyes I might pass out. Stopped at a gas station and bought some beef jerky, and after about 10-15 minutes felt well enough to drive home.

I have to take control. I have to take control of what goes into my mouth. I can’t eat to make the feelings go away any longer. I feel exhausted at all times. I feel ill. The only way to make that go away is to feed myself right and to exercise. Yesterday, up until 6PM, I felt wretched. Absolutely wretched. Hating myself, hating my body, hating everything and everyone.

I don’t deserve to feel this way. Time to do something different.

I’m not sure if anyone really reads this blog, if they do, it is almost a martyrdom. I don’t have much to say, besides endless self-analysis and mentally-ill rants. But if I gear this blog towards actually helping myself over venting, I’m sure no one would mind.

Yesterday’s two mile walk took about 36 minutes, 46 seconds. Let’s get that time down.

Four Letter Word

Social anxiety colors every thought. Though more lately, anger and suspicion supersede it. Feels better, that way.

I’m supposed to be going to a friend’s this weekend. One from high school. J, I’ve talked about her before. She’s a professional costumer, desperately wants to be a rich kept woman from the Victorian age. To say we have very, very little in common nowadays is an understatement.

The things she says to me.. The way she looks and talks to me. I can tell she has very little respect for me as a person. It’s like I’m her Chris-chan. She’s supposedly on the autistic sprectrum, so I wonder if she isn’t upset I left the box she placed me in. The pathetic, sad, impoverished single Queen Legbeard box. But then I got married before her, and I will never have to worry about money. How dare I leave the box? She can’t adjust to that, she literally can’t.

I suspect her quite a lot. She doesn’t seem to have any qualms about saying borderline nasty things to me all the time. Hell, my long-time friend Q doesn’t seem to mind doing it. Both J and Q will be there this weekend, and I need to be prepared for when they start making comments about me. Maybe I will just leave.

I stupidly outed myself as having gender dysphoria on a private group we’re all a part of. J likes to make a show of support online, then show her real, snarky colors in person. It’s like she doesn’t really think I’m a person. Most people I’ve known seem to have problems with thinking of me as a person with feelings.

So, that stuff is going to come up this weekend. And J is going to talk about it in her fake, syrupy, sarcastic voice. She really can’t tell how transparent she is to me.

If I didn’t cling to the friends of the past, I’d readily dump her as a friend. She looks down on me for not liking PERTY DRESSES OMG DRESSES. When I lost weight back in 2013, she saw me for the first time and said,”Oh QL, you’ve blossomed!” She said it seriously. Like what the fuck, am I a flower? Am I suddenly more feminine now because I’ve lost weight, and you approve? Ugh.

Ya know, despite all that, I’ll go over to her house and assume the best. I’ll give them a chance. But the second they start derisively talking about how “QL wants to be a dude” I’ll get the fudge out of there. I don’t really have a sense of humor about this yet.