This post? Not about teh sexy. If you come here solely for that, this is fair warning that you can safely skip this post.

I’ve been living in abject fear for the last 3 months. The occasional moment of relief and self-pride, but honestly…..not much of it. Constant fear……of failure. Fear of tempations I won’t be able to resist. Fear of self-sabotage.

Why? I joined Weight Watchers. After a few health problems cropped up that may or may not be weight-related, combined with the utter disgust in the plus-size clothes market, I decided to lose weight.

I never thought it would be easy. I knew going in that I have food addiction issues not much different from a drug or alcohol addict. Except….I can’t just avoid bars and get a new set of clean-and-sober friends. I’ve broken down in tears numerous times. I’ve completely lost my shit because I wanted something and knew I couldn’t have it because it was *just that bad for me*.

I take comfort in numbers, logic and science. I like knowing how things work, and why. I like numbers that keep tabs on things, give me comparison points, etc. In many aspects of my life. And with this attempt at Weight Watchers, I’m embracing the numbers and using the fact that I’m always online and at my computer to make the most out of their e-tools (I don’t go ot meetings). But when the logic and reason don’t add up to the numbers? I lose it. I lose my grip, my sanity, my “I can do this”. When I look at what I’ve eaten for the week, when I look at all I’ve changed in my diet, when I think about the exercise…..and then the scale doesn’t give me a proper hearty congratulations? I lose it. I lean heavily on my bestfriend R because he’s got the knowledge and intelligence to explain the why’s and the nonsensical to me so that even though I don’t *like* the answer, I can take comfort in having an answer.I keep trying to find a pattern between how many points I’ve consumed, how many I’ve earned with exercise, and how much I lost. I can’t find a pattern. I can’t find a certain angle to work to get the best weight loss numbers consistently (or mostly consistently) each week.

Right now I’m hovering in the 22-25 pound loss range. I’ve had two bad food weekends and despite now taking a water aerobics class, it’s not making up for the bad weekends. I keep coming close to giving up. I avoid social situations that revolve around food as best as I can because I don’t want to sit there and be grumpy because I can’t have what my brain and tongue wants.

And please….before anybody attempts a “helpful” comment on which diet/lifestyle plan might work better for me? Don’t.

Don’t worry, this won’t become a weight loss blog. I’ll mention it few and far between here. Can’t say the same for Twitter though, those who follow me hear a lot about it to the point of boredom I’m sure. But I’m writing about this more to explain my mental status as of late, and why this blog is faltering. I’m hard on myself sometimes…..really hard. And when I fail, and when I can’t have what I want, I get grumpy. And man have I been grumpy. Cranky. Irritable. Pissed the hell off. But I’m trying to get past that.  In the past, one of the reasons I ate (besides my love of food) was to affect my brain chemistry. A burst of dopamine, a calming bite of this, an energizing bite of that…..and I can’t do that anymore.