There’s a new chapter of Risk over here. Thirteen chapters up, eleven more to go. The cool thing about this is that it’s inspiring me to continue to write. When I die, I will have a trunk full of stories and novels and I will be famous and if you’re still alive, you can say you knew me when I was just an obscure blogger. I know you’re looking forward to that.

I haven’t been working on Nanowrimo (although I will this week). I know where I’m going with it, but I had to figure out how I was going to get there. Probably I should have thought of that before I started writing, but I’m a last-minute, impulsive kind of girl.

I’ve also made a few more life decisions this weekend. I was supposed to start back with my Phoenix classes next week. I only have 39 credits left, just a little over a year and I hate to put it off again. But I have to start looking for a job because my mother will let me move in, but she will also make me leave Indy outside on the balcony. So. I’m going to bury myself in the Cisco world and try to take the exam in mid-December.

In other news, Jo AnnE (with an E!) had puppies a few weeks ago. Wait. Her dog had puppies.  MoC and I are going to see them in December, when they’ll be 7 or 8 weeks old. I think. If I did the math correctly. Anyway, they’re bundles of fun and I’ll take lots of pictures. If I time it right, the visit will be just after I’ve passed the exam – or just after I’ve flunked it. Either way, it will be time for a break.

I’ve stolen a picture Jo AnnE sent of the latest puppy pile:

… or week 354.

I should be studying, but I’m not. I should be writing my 50,000 word novel, but I’m not. I should be doing any number of constructive/productive things, but I’m not. I’m actually thinking of taking a nap and it’s only 9:30 am.

Let’s play a game. Maybe a round of Unconscious Mutterings will snap me out of it. Either that, or I’ll take a nap and have weird dreams about all the words in the list. If you answer before I go to sleep, maybe I’ll have weird dreams about all of your words. You could be famous.

1. Alarm ::
2. Guest ::
3. Worm ::
4. Puppies ::
5. Honor ::
6. No! ::
7. Stomach ::
8. Counter ::
9. Waffles ::
10. Plates ::

1. Alarm :: bells
2. Guest :: speaker
3. Worm :: farm
4. Puppies :: PUPPIES!!
5. Honor :: Guard
6. No! :: Way!
7. Stomach :: acid
8. Counter :: productive
9. Waffles :: Belgian
10. Plates :: juggle

In April 2007, I got disgusted with myself. I had just lost (and regained) my job and I was thinking about changing careers and getting my act together and meeting people and dating and having a real life with real friends in it. Then I looked in the mirror and discovered something.

I discovered I was fat, the fattest I had ever been.  I have never been skinny, except maybe when I was 7, but I wasn’t ever fat, either.  All of a sudden I went from not fat to needing to lose 80 lbs. 80 lbs. That’s a whole person. A short person still in grade school, but still a whole human being.

So I went on a diet and I lost half the weight and I got stuck. I couldn’t lose any more. The diet program people gave me a “plateau buster” that basically consisted of parsley and an orange for three days. That’s when I went a little ballistic. I couldn’t do much damage, though, because I was weak from hunger.

After that, I lost faith and quit. I did manage to change my eating habits, but I could never get rid of that other 40 lbs. It’s possible that there is a thyroid issue, but that didn’t occur to me until recently. On the other hand, maybe I was voluntarily (but accidentally) starving myself and so my body started storing fat again. Either way, I got that 40 back, plus another 5.

Tomorrow, I’m starting over. I am using one of their methods as a jump-start because I know it works. And then I’m going to be very careful. I’m not going to have a Saturday breakfast of two biscuits topped with an egg, smothered in sausage gravy with 4 strips of bacon on the side just because I’ve behaved all week. I’m not going to have a cookie (or four) just because I lost 3 lbs.

This time I mean it.  I can’t even look in the mirror anymore because I can’t stand the double (almost triple) chins.

A few weeks ago MoC and I went to a restaurant and the hostess seated us in a booth. I don’t know why all booths are not created equal (at least in the same restaurant) but they aren’t. I started to wedge myself in and stopped. For the record, I could have made it, barely, but I wouldn’t have been able to breathe. I’m also claustrophobic and I would have felt trapped the entire time, which would have led to panic. So I got the waitress and told her I needed a table. It was humiliating.

Last week I went to lunch with a friend of mine. While I was waiting, two men came in. One was very large, and was carrying a small portable oxygen tank in a bag.  The hostess said, “Table for two?” And I thought, I bet he hates hearing that question.  I could see myself in another twenty years, being enormously fat and carrying around an oxygen tank.  My lungs are iffy anyway, but the extra weight means I can’t walk 30 yards without feeling it. When I lost the weight two years ago, my breathing improved. (For the record, Archie and I got a booth and I fit in it just fine. Still … ya know?)

Avitable posted something back in July that really struck home with me. He talked about his weight and all the problems that came with it. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever read because it was incredibly brave and honest. He even posted a picture of himself – naked. I can’t go that far, but I did take one fully clothed (you’re welcome). It was so embarrassing that I had to make a face and give myself rabbit ears, but … this is what I look like. Every single day.

And I’m over it.