10kg Down!

So today is week 7 and I have cracked the elusive 10kg mark!! (22 pounds for the metrically challenged). I have booked a massage (my first 10kg reward) and cant wait! I still feel too fat to be rubbed and rewarded but I promised myself and I must keep that promise. For some reason posting a positive blog is not nearly as fun or entertaining as telling you all the bad things I do but here goes.

As we all know I am obsessed with scales and I very badly weigh myself almost every day except those days I forget and I eat or drink first and then god forbid I should weigh myself with food on (or in) my person! I then obsess all day about how much I may have weighed but its not all bad, I manage to think about food and crap reality TV in the middle of the obsessing so I do make it work. And I do happen to know that on Saturday I weighed 92.2kg but today its 92.6kg either way, its 10kg and just let it go. Let it go Shaggs, let it go. Let it go. No really its ok just thought I'd throw that in. Kinda not really obsessed with the numbers so much anymore. I think I am learning to trust my band and the situation and the reality that I am not eating anywhere near as much as I used to. I love weighing myself but more out of curiosity and the spectacle of it all. I stand on those scales and reel at the fact that I havent suffered (breakfast Sunday aside) and yet they keep on moving down. I know its just a matter of time now. I can believe I'm not going to sabotage this one. No matter how I feel the band is here to stay and this "diet" is going to just be a phase or a fad.

So how come I feel like Claudia Schiffer now when the last time I weighed 92kg it was a devastating travesty and I felt more like Dawn French? Why do we feel so slim and slender on the way down but so huge and swollen on the way up? Is it psychological or is it actually physiological are we actually swollen and puffy when gaining (do we retain water more or something) and are we actually smaller on the down swing? Who knows all I know is I'm feeling pretty good but it feels kinda normal now so I dont feel that much more fabulous. When I look at the pics I can see the difference and I do know the difference in now and 10kg more, so much more comfortable and able bodied.

You know what I love. Seeing people who do happen to know about this and they ask "so how's it going?" and I proudly announce that I have lost 10kg now and they reply "oh, have you?". Yep, 10kg and no one notices and they look at you as if you're completely pulling shit out of your arse. Should I print a Tshirt with an old photo on it? I guess its only 10kg its not 125 pounds like Mindy (skinny in Texas)!! Now thats some pictures to carry around with you! What a star! Part of me really couldnt give a toss about others comments but part of me cant wait to turn around one day and it all suddenly be noticeable and watch their stupid faces fall.

And how shitty do you get now at people eating? Like - "Do you REALLY have to eat AGAIN????" or "Do you really have to eat MORE????" Are you joking! Can you stuff more in your face? Isnt that shit of me? I'm a bitch. Me of all people knows how that one works and yet here I am miss holier than though judging people for how they eat. And how much food do you have left over in the fridge or the takeaway box now? Take at least 3 adult size portions out of every meal when I used to eat. Now I eat less than the kids.

So I think the brain is starting to catch up with things here. I'm trusting the band and I'm thinking about overeaters like a size 8 bitch scrag. Can you believe the maxed out gorger from last week is sitting here now getting snippy with people for wanting to eat? Noice. Blogging makes you so accountable. I guess you always hate in other the people the very thing you dont like in yourself.

My Friend, My Enemy, My Restriction

That elusive experience called restriction has entered my life and I am loving it! I woke up on Friday morning just knowing that something was different. I was rushing about and didnt have breakfast - now that is just a travesty of the worst kind in my life and I eat for a week to make up for the lost meal - but I forgot all about it. Had lunch at 2pm and then no dinner - thats TWO weeks catching up and a nervous breakdown - I will be anorexic in a week at this rate!! Had a few little cracker nibblies on Friday night and that was it - ALL DAY! How pure and gaunt do I feel? Actually, strange thing is, I dont feel empty, or weak or starving or "holier than though". I feel just normal. I like this normality.

So Saturday was a similar day - but with too much alcohol - nice combination - hardly any food and too much alcohol - FUN! Cue roaring dry horrors on Sunday and whats the best thing for the morning after - Mc Donalds. I attempted a sausage mc muffin and I knew after about 1/2 a bite where it was headed but I soldiered on. Only had not even half but, stupid stupid stupid girl, I had a swig of juice (very bad dry horrors) and man that muffin was stuck like a 14 year old in Supre. It hurt, it ached I sweat, I thumped my chest, I put my arms up in the air (thanks Nene) I had to walk around like when I was in labour I could feel a chuck coming on I bent over and that puppy dislodged and I was all over. The adrenaline rush of relief when that pain went was almost worth it in a sick "mummy cant get a buzz anymore" kinda way. But that was it for me. I had that tight achey pain in my chest all day and it scared me into submission.

I found over the weekend that I am envious of people swigging away on drinks while they eat. I have a new found obsession - drinking while you eat. I no longer crave massive big chewy, crunchy mouthfuls of bread and carbs - now I crave a fizzy cold rush of diet coke to wash a half chewed mouthful down. Oh to drink while I eat! I find myself choosing liquids over solids and not eating so I can drink. Half of me thinks thats just shit but I've always been a very thirsty person and have always drunk alot. I always stole my mothers drinks when I finished my own as a kid. Back in the 70's when you could smoke in McDonalds I had a swig of my mothers drink and yes, I drank ash and ciggie butts. McDonalds cups make great ashtrays. Yum! It seems now that if I eat and wait for half an hour after to drink there just isnt enough time in the day for me to drink enough. I have to ration the eating to allow the drinking. Where will this end?

All the while throughout my little, very minor but very memorable episode, I was thinking of all my bandster gals out there. Poor Nola who had this out in public with a Llama sniffing around, Nene out in a restaurant, the confusion of not knowing which "quiet corner" out in public is going to be the best place to let your innards out. I couldnt imagine the horror! I was at home and only had to hide the extremness of the situation from my husband who is A. Prone to lecturing and B. A bit of a worry wart. I just acted like I was going to the kitchen and had my seizure around the corner near the loungeroom (wooden floors, wipe clean society, dont care where the spew ends up). I didnt know whether to laugh or cry thinking about all you trippers out there who have paved the way before me - the words I would use in my blog to describe my episode - what I would say to my surgeon when my band slipped and I aspirated a McDonalds hash brown. Oh the things that go through your mind in a crisis! Its like a car crash, feels like an hour and everything's in slow motion. Its actually 30 seconds and your writhing around like an excavated worm on a hot day.

I do feel like part of the club now. Trust me to find the belonging in all the foulness. My PB experience was so lame but this was the real mc coy. I got stuck!!! And it hurt!! Why should I be happy about that? I guess it does keep you honest.

So I'm loving the restriction but it is a double edged sword. I cant be a slack arse anymore. I have to be careful with the rules - I now know the consequences. I am worried this will wear off that sometime the insatiable hunger will come back and then where will I be? I want to kiss the surgeon (no tongues) I so viciously bagged out last week for granting me the grace of restriction. I have seen the light and I am transformed. Until the next cherry ripe.

Ovulating and Oyster Sandwiches

Life is driving me f%^&ing mad! I'm so cranky and agro, EVERYTHING is just shitting me so hard core. I dont know if it my hormonal situation at the moment or the fact that I feel totally out of control with my eating and its getting me down. I have even tried to clean the house to get some feel good going on but to no avail.

Here's what I ate today: I need some advice on whether this is standard or ridiculous - I think its alot. Also - I am hoping by purging this day's worth of food in the blog I may be able to have a better one tomorrow.

Breakfast:
One mashed fried egg with a piece of shaved ham and some low fat grated tasty (a kind of basic omelette no oil for frying) fits a side plate (about 1 cup of food) I'd say a perfect breakfast
Low fat cappuccino

Lunch:
Starving by 12.3o so:
TWO WRAPS!! some chicken breast and beetroot and garlic sauce on a tortilla style flat bread (small size Old ElPaso) wrap but really? TWO?

Afternoon Tea:
Half an oyster sandwich (favourite food in the entire world)
Was that really necessary after that lunch?

Afternoon Tea II:
Some premium crackers and danish feta
Speechless

Dinner:
2-3 small size pieces of pizza
Dont feel like being in the kitchen after all that eating and this is the takeaway I never got after the fill

I think thats alot - dont you? I have my stomach banded and have had one fill and I can still eat all that!!! And I could keep going!???!?!? And I have CONTROLLED MYSELF!!!!!!!

If I am completely honest (once again - very hard for me to take my head out of the sand in order to do this) I have felt full and stopped eating accordingly instead of eating and having to stop myself before I felt full and then suffer the pain. And I do feel the food going down now - it can be a tight squeeze. But really, thats a lot of food. I may be having small meals but is having 6 of those meals still acceptable?

I really dont feel guilty either, its just like its out of my control so go hard. Or is that just a lame excuse (I'm good at those too). I think I'm at the tail end of the monthly eating binge (its ovulation time and my body thinks it needs to double its calorie intake to produce eggs - funny thing is I dont want to have sex when I've binged to the point of pain and discomfort so the eggs are pointless and they wouldnt fertilise anyway) that insatiable feeling IS coming and going. I dont think its here to stay (bloody better not) but it is horrible being a slave to it and its the reason why I got banded in the first place. Apparently third fill is the charm. I might also check out some herbal remedy or something for the extreme hormone experience.

Or maybe I should just have a drink - fixes everything else.....

First Fill and Damien - The Devil's Spawn

Well what a shitter of a day! First things first I ate like a horse over the weekend so I was not looking forward to weighing in with the dietician this morning. Second, no baby sitter for the four year old (we call him Damien and we're waiting for the 666 sign of the devil to show up on his body somewhere in the near future) Damien was already whingeing about going to the doctors with me (although he refuses to go anywhere without me). He knows how long we have to wait in that hellhole. And last, but not least, my first fill anxiety (kinda fear of the unknown kinda scared of the doctor - I'll explain that later) did I mention how much I have eaten in the past week in the name of ovulation and nervous anxiety at having to weigh in? Why do I eat like a horse before I have to weigh in? For the week after, I eat like Ghandi but no, the week before I shove in as much food as possible because I am a dog that shits in doorways. What does that mean I hear you ask? Well, the dog is allowed in the house and all is going well and just to f$%^ things up, the dog shits in the very doorway you just let him in and then whammo - out he goes - wasted the best opportunity of his life!

This kinda nervous eating started way back in my weight watchers days. I would be Ghandi up until Friday (the day before weigh in) and then I'd go beserk. So I'd change weigh in days but that just meant I changed gorge days also. I would sometimes try and counteract the gorge effect by having a chinese tea by the name of Ballerina Tea (named for its use by the slender dancers and also because if you can stand on your toes in wooden shoes then this foul tasting tea is akin to a creamy hot chocolate) Ballerina Tea would - dead set - liquify concrete. By the time I'd weigh in the next morning I would have lost all the gorged food and parts of my pancreas as well as 75% of my body's water so I would drag myself throbbing dehydrated head and all - onto the scales and be the same as the week before. ANYTHING is better than a gain I say. So yesterday afternoon (too afraid to drink Ballerina Tea in case part of my band comes out with it) I gave myself a dose of Benefibre. Didnt work unless you count the three pebbles I passed before I left this morning. I was hoping for an explosive drainage type experience but alas, it was time for complete weigh in honesty - once again - oh how I've grown up!

And once again the scale gods were with me - the scales only registered a gain of 400grams and no i didnt cry. I was relatively happy with that. Thats about the weight of the chips I ate yesterday. The dietician - god love the skinny bitch (you must have a BMI of 11 to work in my obesity clinic) was very pleased with that as it is a sign of needing a fill (I would have said a lobotomy but who's splitting hairs). Of course I had minimal breakfast (seems I can control myself the morning OF weigh in) so by this time I was getting violent with hypoglycemia. Cue waiting with Damien for over an hour to see the doctor and things started to go down hill rapidly.

Damien was whinging (goes without saying). The skinny bitches at the front desk think they're doing you a favour by booking your dietician on the same day as your surgeons visit (never mind the 3 hour wait in between) although you dont actually know what time your doctors visit is so just sit and wait. AND they let people through according to their appointment time so people breeze in and out, late and all and me and Damien are just waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting so I think its time to call in the big guns and I take Damien to the chip machine (conveniently located next to the operating theatre where they do the lap bands - noice). Damien's squealing for a milky bar and of course - my wallet - always full to the brim with change is dry as a bone so we take a trip to the kiosk which - for a really expensive private hospital - is a dirty little hole in the wall with no eftpos and nothing for $1.25 in five cent pieces. I have a moment of inspiration and realise there's change in the car and just as Damien's head is about to do a 360 and spit green slime I get the required Milky Bar and the beast is tamed. By now the waiting room is FULL of people who arrived after us and I walk in with a four year old eating an adult sized chocolate bar - once again - noice. I didnt know whether everyone wanted to tear shreds off me for feeding my child the exact thing that got me in this trouble in the first place or whether they actually wanted to crash tackle Damien for his Milky Bar. Either way, I feared for our lives.

Before you know it (1 hour and 15 minutes) we were in and I was getting jabbed from across the room by Dr Speedy Gonzalez and I was out and bleeding at the front desk. Hurt a tiny bit (emotionally I mean) but there is always something uncomfortable about being treated by a doctor who is about the same age and looks ratio as your good self - really feels like you should be having a drink at a bar not exposing your most stretch marked gut for pricking. Much more comfortable with crusty old doctors. Always seem to have good looking doctors at the most inappropriate times. After 36 hours labour with the first babe the nurses started to twitter that Prince Vince was on his way. "Prince Vince" I ask. Yes, the object of their desire was about to arrive and check out my parts that had been labouring for 36 hours. Had showered in that time but not with soap and metho (my husband recommends kero and a blow torch). So there's Prince Vince (ob and gyno) up my leaking jutsy with all the nurses reapplying lip gloss while I lay there, in all my 110kilo glory sobbing for a cesearean. And yes, Prince Vince had earnt his name! Fast forward ten years and there I am in Speedy Gonzalez's offices discussing morbid obesity with a man you'd only kick out of bed to do on the floor. Noice. (Just in case you read this hubby, I wouldnt actually do him but most would).

Did I mention in all this time that I promised Damien McDonalds on the way home? Good mum aren't I! I was also hanging for a chocolate thick shake (bit scared to do solids although could have hammered a Big Mac). I manage to wrestle Damien to the nearest McDonalds and can you believe - it was shut! Lunch time on a Monday and Mc Donalds was shut!!!!!!!! Have you ever in your life seen a shut McDonalds????????? McDonalds had a black out and had to shut. Thats the kind of day I had. If you cant have McDonalds on the way home from your first fill then when can you?

Damien and I made it home starving and screaming at 3.15pm (and that was for a 12pm appointment). I tried to have a cup a soup but I started to have a post op post traumatic stress situation so I gave it up and had Aldi Danish Feta (fabulously silky and yum) and a bread stick (went down well). Yes I'll take it easy but the lovely husband, so considerate he is, has said that tonight - its my pick - can you believe it! I get to pick whatever I want!! Pity I'm supposed to be on liquids. Oh well...

My Last Hurrah - Again.....

So tomorrow is my first fill and today is my last hurrah - again. How many last hurrah's have I had during this process? One before Opti, one before the op, one before mushies, one before solids, one on Friday, one yesterday and now today - and they're the ones I can count. So you're probably all thinking - its only the first fill you wont feel any different or any restriction BUT if I'm completely honest with myself and you (kills me to have to be - natural born denier here) I am already pretty restricted. I do quite often get around it with little sips of liquids to just "ease" things down and thats only when I am REALLY loving something. I am rarely actually hungry and even then its a mood slump not a hunger in my stomach. My capacity is still nowhere near what it was pre op but it is also not exactly perfect but I do kinda feel thats my fault (gee I wonder why?). So I'm thinking a fill now might just help me pull the reigns in a little tighter and hell, I've never had one so lets go! Always up for something new. And I am still dreaming about that initial post op restriction - now that was somethin' special! So maybe a fill is exactly what I need. I have noticed that I am starting to want a piece of bread after a meal like the olden days and I can even go for extra food (thats not with drinking) so I guess I am in a text book need of a fill. Thank God for blogging to sort out whats the truth and whats not and how we actually DO feel and not THINK we feel.

So, my last hurrah. White bread after lunch today - one piece just to wipe the plate (one of the world's greatest pleasures) I cant really think of what else I'd really like.... I've told you food is losing its power and now its losing its appeal too... I think bread and sandwiches are my biggest loss really. Oh and the odd piece of Sara Lee chocolate cake - nibbled a little piece last night to celebrate my dead grandmothers birthday but it does congeal like a brick in your band but it was worth it.

I am still convinced the band will slip or something is going horribly wrong inside me. Every little pain and twitch signals the end until I shove something down my gob and it goes down fine - no vomiting or burping or pain and then I'm back again abusing the band that is changing my life by the minute. I figured out on Friday night - my first social drink since op - that you cant keep drinking your alcohol if you're also going to partake of the nibblies. A handful chips and then you have a good guzzle of you bourbon and coke and whammo, chips stuck and you can feel every millimetre of them passing through you band infront of a wave of fizzy grog. Ooooh not pretty. Before the band bourbon and coke always gave me heartburn which is now gone and I have been very reluctant to try a drink but it all went down well BUT I did notice the next day (both yesterday and today - I didnt say I ONLY drank on Friday night) i have had alot of restriction especially in the morning. It may be the effect of bourbon and coke on my stomach or it may be all the shit I shovelled down with it, either way, I think I'll stick to sipping wine alone and not getting too swept up in the social aspects of drinking.

Its a learning curve! Cant wait for that fill though - I feel like tomorrow is the day I ACTUALLY have to start being a grown up and a big girl and get on with the whole "I am actually TRYING" philosophy. We'll see.....

Higher Power for a Food Junkie

I'm bored again. There's numerous things I could be doing but none of them really feel like a Friday afternoon thing to do. I'm at a standstill with the latest project (making an office and "ooger booger" room for readings) and I dont really feel like getting too actively involved in anything cause after all, it is Friday and I really should be kicking back with a drink and welcoming in the weekend. A slave to the stereotype I know. But I dont really feel like drinking (!#$%^& shock freakin horror!) I mean, why? Whats the point? I'll probably end up having one but really, why? Oh I know why, I got pleasantly tipsy last night! Anyway, I'm bored so I've been reading my blog from the beginning. I dont know if its just the pleasantly numb (and bored) mood I'm in but I feel like I've turned a corner on all the things that used to upset me no end. I remember pouring buckets of tears on some of the pages I posted, its a wonder the keyboard still works but now, those things kinda dont really conjure a terrible lot up?!?!? I know the things I wrote were true and meaningful and quite validly upsetting, but now, I think I've turned a corner.

Perhaps with each kilo melting away its taking a problem with it? Could eating have stopped me from getting through the problems in the first place? Of course I still have issues (massive, ginormous gangsta sized problems) but they're current, past ones kinda wash over me??!! I chucked a mega wobbly yesterday and it was funny, I wanted to eat, I wanted to sulk I wanted to in some way act like an emotional baby so I washed up. Yes, Shaggs of the "anything is more important than cleaning" philosophy cleaned cause she felt bad! (well f$%^ me!). Boy am I growing up! (nice change from growing out thats for sure!) In the end I even seeked out comfort and company when normally I turn into a recluse until the pain eases (or the mint slices run out). Of course I'm probably being cocky and tomorrow I'll have a meltdown about something that happened 8 years ago but for now, its all feeling rather good!

I am so glad that this band has happened. I could never have imagined the HUGE impact on my life it would have. I remember going through withdrawals both physical and emotional and I know it wasnt easy and I know I will still suffer at times and I know the physical pain was (and sometimes still is) hideous but really, I would do it all again 100 times over.

First fill is on Monday and its hard to get my head around the fact that technically, the band isnt supposed to be working yet.... freaky hey! Boy is it pulling its weight! Pity I'm not but its doing enough work for the two of us so far. After years and years and years and years of struggling and crying and eating and bingeing and hating and screaming and just pure hate I feel like (almost literally overnight - it feels like the blink of an eye) the cloud has lifted and something or someone else now has my problem cause it is not with me anymore. For want of better words and to not go all 12 step or evangelical on you all, (totally not religious I swear) my problem has been surrendered to a higher power and that higher power is my band. I am so grateful to that little piece of silicone, to my doctor (AKA Speedy Gonzalez beside manner of a meerkat but moves faster) to my husband for the money and time and energy and most of all to my cyber friends. Does this sound like an Oscars speech or what? Should I be on Oprah? And no, I havent had any mood altering drugs (not today anyway) I havent joined a cult or religion, I'm still a food junkie I will always be teetering on the edge of a tantrum and binge but now I can live too. Its not ALL about the food.

Now this conjures up feelings in me. I could have a little cry for happiness but I think I'll drown it out with a Friday afternoon beverage (or ten).

Cherry Ripes and Prettyland

Funny that I mentioned Cherry Ripes in my last post, I ate one on Friday. It was hard, it was a bit rough going down and I was full half way through but I struggled on (no one can accuse me of not being persistent) and managed to finish it off - it was tough - but someone had to do it. I also got myself mangled on Friday night (pleasant enough too) I also ate toast on Saturday morning and the list goes on I cant go into too much detail cause I'll get hungry. The point of the story is, there is no deprivation in my life in fact, yes there is. I may not be deprived of eating my favourite foods and going on a bender but I am deprived of the joy and the manner in which I go about these sinful pleasures resulting in them not being so sinfully pleasurable. I cant eat as fast, i cant stuff as much in, I cant fill up those emotional holes and insubstantial areas of my life with the spakfilla they call food. I have to proceed with caution, nibble, chew like a donkey and swallow tiny meaningless amounts and instead of pleasantly full (and fulfilled) I feel vaguely sick and usually extremely uncomfortable and in shit pain.

So there I was pre op thinking that I was saying goodbye to my old life and bad habits and having my last hurrahs when in actuality the party is not over. Kind of. Its kind of reassuring that yes I can enjoy "little" bits of what I like (although I'm yet to enjoy a "little" bit of a gorge) but is a little bit better than cold turkey? Who knows and now we'll never know. I do often wonder if I'd known what I know now then (?) would my dieting exploits have been more successful? Doubt it. I was a pretty messed up individual and I sometimes still visit crazy land when I graze on shit all afternoon and then eat a meal and then cry cause it hurts. There's nothing like the sound of my own cries of pain to remind me of a Saturday night of the past.

I still expect to wake up and be 102kg (I even saw over 103 at one point but it wasnt recorded). I have to sit and work out exactly how much I've lost and convince myself it is a significant amount. That I'm not as huge as I used to be and a bit of Saturday afternoon grazing will not undo it. That I'm not in denial and it is actually over 9kg - all the time - and not really 4.5kg but only after 3 days of gastro and completely naked when Jupiter is in the fourth house of Venus and the scales are pointing north west. When will that go away? Ever? When will I stop writing down what I eat just to convince myself that it wasnt as much as I used to eat? When will I stop associate being full with being an inadequate piece of human workmanship? When will I stop comparing myself to how good I could be if only I stuck to the rules 100% of the time? These are not overriding beliefs all of the time but when things get dark - and it aint all sunshine and roses here in Shaggsville - this is what goes through my head.

I was just thinking I'm not a food junkie anymore! Ha! After reading that little blurb its not quite as convincing. But its not as painful to be around food. I'm not pining all the time. I dont think the world is out to get me because they keep eating when I cant. I am not constantly stopping myself from shoving anything edible (and lets face it, sometimes inedible) into my mouth. I think I'm at the acceptance level of grief (for this moment in time anyway) I do still remove myself from food situations but only for my own good. The pain is an excellent deterrant and I really dont think I could do this if I didnt feel the pain. Am I becoming the lapband equivalent of a cutter? I dont like the pain and I dont seek it but it does do something to me that the food doesnt have to do anymore. It distracts me from the emotional pain I guess? From the reason why I eat in the first place? OK this is all getting too Freudian or Jungian or something for me, my education didnt take me past this point so my brain cant quite get through these ideas and make sense of them. Where's Germain Greer or Naomi Wolf when you need them? Out chasing wolves and rooting men 40 years younger I suspect.

My 7 year old gave me a hug the other day and noticed something highly unusal that I didnt notice, her hands met up behind my back. They'd never done that before and I'd never noticed. Very nice point. She's terrified I'm going to end up looking like Paris Hilton. I could eat Paris Hilton for afternoon tea! She also said that the band is going to kill me when I'm 40 (that better not be one of her freaky prophecies), she thinks I'm cyborg with a machine inside me. She's shed a few tears over it all but I think she's through it all now. F%^& what damage our behaviours inflict upon our children. If only the world were the perfect Utopia I create inside my head that makes me wear jeans that are too small and a top thats too tight. Ahhh Prettyland... where no child has to cry for her fat mother.... where no one hears you eat.... where the scales always read "gorgeous" no matter which house of Uranus they're in.

Did I mention I cant sleep? Could it be the copious amounts of energy I have? Every night is such a bad night that I cant wait for the next night cause I know I'll just flake (yum...) but instead, another shit's night sleep. I'm running on a few hours. I think I need to up the exercise thing and expend some of this energy or maybe I really need some food to get through the night. I've never slept well on an empty stomach, but then I never wake up and weigh well on a full stomach. Cant win.

This is all too much, Prettyland calls......