Hooray! I am Obese!

Back in May of 2007, I blogged about the fact that I was morbidly obese.

Today, I am happy to say that I am just obese.

Now I'm just barely obese, because my BMI calculated at 39.9, which is just one tick below the threshold of 40, which is considered morbidly obese.

I know it seems like a weird thing to be happy to be obese, but given that I've now lost a total of 43.6 lbs, that's a victory.

I've been staring at the cutoff for a few weeks now, hovering in frustration.  Now, I finally made it, which feels good.  My next goal, of course, is to get down to 163, which will put me in the overweight category.  That's another 55 pounds from now.

It seems like a long way off.

I have finally seen some measurable results of my weight loss, which makes me feel very happy.  A few days ago, I noticed that I could fit into some pants I was never able to wear.  Those pants were two sizes smaller than the ones I had been wearing.

The jeans I had been wearing were getting pretty darn loose, so I ordered four pairs of jeans and they came a couple of days ago.

Guess what?

They fit!

I didn't even have to do the extreme gut-suck to get them on!

So, I'm now wearing pants that are two sizes smaller than the ones that I could barely wear at my high weight.

That's progress.

New Pants

This morning, I stepped on the scale and saw 219.8 lbs.  That's the lowest I've been since December 2010.

Yay me.

The two pairs of jeans that I've been wearing pretty much constantly don't really fit anymore.  I can put them on and take them off without unbuttoning or unzipping them.  They still stay up, just barely, without a belt.

This morning  decided to try on a pair of pants that a friend bought me years ago, but that didn't fit when she bought them.  This particular pair of pants was two sizes smaller than the pants I've been wearing.

When my friend bought them for me, they were way too small.  I couldn't pull them up over my hips.  This morning, I put them on and zipped them up.  They fit, albeit a little snugly, without major contortions or gut-sucking to get them on.

Another yay me.

So this morning, I went online and bought four more pairs of jeans identical to the ones I've been wearing, but in the size of the pants that fit this morning.  I hope, since sizing can be so different between manufacturers, that they'll fit.

If not, maybe they will serve as motivation.

The place I ordered them from has a generous return policy.  If they just don't fit at all, I can send them back.

.2 Away

This morning, for the second day in a row, I weighed 220.6 lbs.

When I saw it yesterday, I thought it was just a fluke.  This morning, though, seeing it the second day in a row, made me think that it's a real weight.

Sometimes I'll see a weight I like on the scale and it will disappear almost immediately.  I often don't trust the numbers it gives me, unless they stick around are seem to be part of a trent.

But this morning I was 220.6.  That's just .2 away from my lowest weight.

It's just 2.6 lbs away from falling into the BMI range of obese, rather than morbidly obese.

Will I make it this time?

I sure hope so.

Feeling Pressure to Lose Weight

For the first time in my life, I feel real pressure to lose weight.

Now sure, I've felt pressure at times when my mother nagged me about my weight when I was a teen, or when I went to my doctor and was given a lecture.  For the most part, though, the pressure only lasted as long as the lecture.  Once it was over, I didn't worry about it so much.  Sure, at any given point in my life I might or I might not have been on a diet, but I didn't feel all that pressured by it.

Now, I feel pressured.

In roughly 18 months (perhaps less, given the way things are going with the STBX right now) I will be back in the dating game.

I need to do something about my weight, because most people want to date those that are HWP (height-weight proportionate) or slim.  I'm neither of those two things.

As my relationship with the STBX has unraveled.  I've given a lot of thought about what I'm going to look for next.  Though I haven't contacted anyone, I've been trolling the personal ads just to see what's out there.  It seems like all the ads for people that sound interesting are also those who insist on skinny women.

I've been really making a concentrated effort to eat less.  I hope I start seeing some better results soon.

Of course my biggest frustration is this: despite having lost as much weight as I have, I still haven't shrunk out of my clothes.  The pants that were once tight are now very loose, but I'm still not small enough to fit into the next smaller size that I've found in my closet.

I'm trying not to have to buy more clothing.  I'm trying to make do with what I have.  Then I'll buy more when I'm finally at my goal weight.

A Quick Status Update

So this morning my weight was 222.8 lbs.  I'm still tantalizingly close to my low weight, but I just can't seem to budge things.

I'm trying not to worry about it too much; I've got a lot of stressful things going on in my life at the moment.

It dawned on me a couple of days ago that I have less than a year to master a set of job skills that took the STBX probably 25 years to get to the level she's at.  I'm feeling overwhelmed, because I know that's not possible.  I'm trying to pick off the most important things and the low-hanging fruit, and I keep telling myself that her skill set only amounts to about 10-20% of the total workload for my main client.

I'll be okay.  I really will.

I keep telling myself that.

But boy, is it tough to believe it during my low points.

I did get a small spot of good news, though.  I just found out that the contract for my main client has been extended for another year.  It's a huge relief knowing that I won't have to be going through a divorce and worrying about finding a new job or client around the same time.

It's all good.

It's the Little Things that Really Hurt

Although the STBX and I do fight, and sometimes quite a lot, I find that it's not the big blow-ups that really hurt.  Now I'll be the first one to say that I don't like living in a situation where screaming arguments bubble up like a volcano in the middle of our living room.  However, it's not the really huge fights that seem to really hurt.

Big fights tend to clear the air.  Pooled resentments are vented and issues are addressed head-on.  I don't like the fight, but sometimes I feel better afterward.

What hurts more than a fight are the tiny, ego-crushing moments that happen on a daily basis.  These are the things that sting.  These are the things that do more damage to my psyche and to the relationship than anything else.

Today's ego-crushing moment:

In addition to my day job, I am also a writer.  One of the few things left that is still good with The STBX is my writing.  When I finish a piece, I'll share it, and The STBX will give me feedback.  Even when we are fighting, even when we are hurt, this is still one thing that has always been good.

Until this morning.

This morning, I asked The STBX if she wanted to hear my latest.  She said yes, so I began to read.  I got to a part in my manuscript that I thought was very funny, and she didn't laugh.  It surprised me, because we tend to share the same sense of humor.

I stopped reading, mid-sentence, and waited.

After what seemed like the longest time, The STBX said, "Mmm-hmm."

I pulled my eyes away from my screen and I looked over at her.  What did I see?

She was reading a magazine, and hadn't been listening to anything I'd read.

Wow.

A Countdown to Divorce.

Oh good grief.

It's the middle of October already.  How did that happen?  Last time I posted, it was the end of August. How did so much time go by?

Well I'm still wrestling with the same few pounds I was in August.  Down 2, up 1, down 1, up 3.  Frustrating.  I'm hovering in this 6lb window that I can't seem to get out of.  Up, down.  Up, down.

Quite a bit has happened in the last few weeks.

The Wife and I are getting divorced, though I think you already knew that.  She told me this in July.  Then she told me she didn't want a divorce.  Then she did.  Then she didn't, but she couldn't see any alternative.  Two weeks ago, in our therapy session, she took off her ring.

Then she put it back on.

So here's the reality: We are waiting until The Kid's 18th birthday and then one of us will be filing for divorce.

Now I want to say that I don't think The Wife is a bad person.  What I will say is that she's done a great many things both recently and over the years, that make me realize that this relationship isn't sustainable.

So now we are on a countdown to divorce.  Unless something dramatically changes, I expect to be filing for divorce on October 14, 2013.  That's exactly one year from today.

From now on, this blog will be about a great deal more than just weight loss.  It's going to be about transforming my life so that I can be successful and happy.  It will be about living with my STBX (soon-to-be-ex) for a year.

And once the divorce is done, it will be about trying to find true love in my late 40s.

I'm taking a very deep breath.

Friday Weigh In - Argh!

Well, here is is another Friday, and I'm reporting my weigh-in results.  As of this morning, my scale reported that I weighed 223.6.

That's better than last Friday (which I didn't report on) but not as good as my recent low.

I'm feeling frustrated right now.  I haven't been eating much at all (yesterday I only had a small portion of dinner) because I haven't had much in the way of appetite.

On the divorce side of things, The Wife and I signed an agreement that discusses payment of certain debts that we will likely incur between now and when we file for divorce.  It makes me feel better to have the agreement signed, but it just drove home the point that in 13 months we will be done.

Although The Wife did acknowledge that there's a possibility we could reconcile, as theoretically anything is possible, the chances aren't good.  Although The Wife didn't come right out and say so, a snowball has a better chance in hell.

Trying to Hold on to Optimism

It's been a rough few days.

This morning, I spent a good while crying.  I'm sad for a whole bunch of reasons, most of which are connected, directly or indirectly, with my upcoming divorce.

I am finding that it is hard to be in a lame duck marriage.

Nothing has changed, really.  We are still doing everything as we once did.  The Wife still cooks dinner.  We eat together.  We still sleep in the same bed, though now separated by a gulf on separate sides.

From all outward appearances, nothing has changed.

And yet, everything has changed.

It's hard.

I am trying to hold on to optimism.  I keep reminding myself this too shall pass.  I know that everything will work out for the best.  I've had many bad things happen to me in my life, and this is a lot less terrible than many of them.

Still, I feel like a part of me dies a little each day.

I want someone to love me.

Is that so much to ask?

Apparently so.

Mounting Frustration

I didn't post my Friday weigh-in results because, frankly, I was just too pissed off to do so.  Last Monday, I was at the lowest weight I'd seen in quite some time, and almost as soon as I hit it, my weight jumped up.

By Friday, I was up to 225.  I was pissed.  I've really made an effort not to eat crap, and for no explicable reason my weight had jumped.

Maybe the lower weight was just a fluke on the scale.

On the plus side, if there was a plus, I discovered that I can squeeze into a pair of size 20W pants I was given a few years ago.  A friend had tie-dyed them for me, but I couldn't pull them up over my hips, let alone zip them up.

Now I can pull them up and zip them, though they really are still somewhat on the tight side.  The pockets pull open, which is something I really hate to see on fat women.  They'll probably look better when I lose another ten pounds or so.

If that ever happens.

Now I suppose I should point out that I'm currently wearing size 24W.  I'm hoping I can actually fit into a smaller size, soon.  Right now, I own two pairs of pants that fit, but they are both getting loose.  One is a pair of very worn jeans that is so threadbare I expect a blowout any day.

I tried to buy some new pants at the Mart of Darkness a while back, but couldn't find anything that fit, even in the size I'm currently wearing.  After trying on several pair, and not wanting to go to a larger size, I gave up.

The pants I'm wearing, by the way, were purchased right before The Wife and I got married back in 2008.  (Can you tell how much I love to shop for clothes?)

With regards my eating habits, I've been taking to doing something I'm calling The Rule of Half.  Basically, when it comes to serving up my food, I take half what I would usually put on my plate.  When I'm finished, I wait a while to see if I'm really still hungry, or if I've had enough.

This morning, for example, instead of eating two packages of instant oatmeal, I had one.  I will say that one really doesn't feel like enough, but I've also been trying to be really cognizant of how hungry I am. If I'm a little hungry, that's okay.

Knowing that we will be filing for divorce in just under 14 months makes my weight loss efforts seem even more important.  Assuming we file on schedule, in 20 months I'll be single and dating again.  Although I'm not actively looking, I have taken a quick look on a few dating sites to see what's out there and what people seek.

One of the over-arching things I've seen is that most people are looking for HWP (height-weight proportionate) dates.  Although there are a few ads looking for BBWs (big beautiful women) the majority say that's not want they want.  Weight loss is clearly mandatory if I want to open up my dating options when the time comes.

A Pound From My Low

This morning I stepped on the scale and discovered that I was a pound away from the lowest weight I can remember recording on this blog.  It made me happy to see that number, but I was a little disappointed I didn't see the lowest number.

Maybe that will happen later in the week.  It would be nice.

I've been eating precious little of late because my appetite has been off.  I know some folks tend to drown themselves in food when they are stressed.  If I'm slightly stressed, I'll admit to having the urge to munch.  If I'm really stressed, my insides just curl up and rebel at the thought of food.  It doesn't matter if I'm feeling genuinely hungry, my stomach rolls up into a ball and gets queasy at the idea of having to digest something.

I suppose it's bad for my overall health, but great for the diet.

This morning it took me over 30 minutes to choke down a bowl of yogurt decorated with a handful of blueberries and raspberries.

What's wrong with me?  Normally I love this breakfast.

I guess the truth is that it's all stress generated by the thought of my upcoming divorce.

Now The Wife has backed down from her earlier deadline.  She had said she would give things until the end of the year.  Now, we've worked out an agreement to where we'll stay together the remaining year and a bit until The Kid turns 18.  That will certainly make things easier, as divorce with minor children involved gets very complicated.  This way, we'll be able to write our own divorce settlement and get the entire thing out of the way as quickly and cheaply as possible.

The Wife also says she's willing to work on things, but I am not sure it's possible.  I think we've reached an epistemological abyss that cannot be bridged.  It's not that The Wife is a bad person.  It's not that I'm a bad person.  It's just that we are disagreeing on some pretty fundamental issues, and finding that there aren't positions of compromise.

Basically it boils down to the fact that The Wife wants to do x, where x is something to which I have some pretty significant moral objections.  I don't want x in my life, and she does, and there really isn't a way to meet in the middle.

Now I should point out that x isn't anything illegal.  Perhaps if I were a better person, I wouldn't object to it.  However, it's something that makes me feel emotionally and physically unsafe, and I don't want it in my life.  The Wife does.

Of course x isn't the only problem in our relationship.  There are a great many others, including an absolute lack of a sex life.  In years past, it didn't matter, because my hypothyroidism had so completely squelched my sex drive.  Now I'm interested, but I don't have a partner who is all that willing.

I don't want a divorce.  Unfortunately, I also don't see any alternatives.

I suppose in my mind I am becoming more accepting of the idea of ultimately going our separate ways. A few days ago, I found myself drawn to several online (free) dating sites, where I scanned the personal ads.  I didn't sign up for an account, and I didn't respond to anyone, but I did see a profile of one man that made my heart go pitter-patter for a moment.

I had to remind myself that I am not single, I am not free to date, and if I'm meant to be with any particular man, he'll still be single and I'll find him in a year and a half from now.  I somewhat reluctantly closed my browser window.  I found myself looking for the same man again this morning, but I didn't find his profile before I was asked to sign up.

I'm not signing up on a dating site until I really am single.  Still, my libido-gone-into-hyperdrive has had me fantasizing about a new boyfriend/lover almost non-stop for days.

When I was younger, I never understood why people cheated on their spouses.  I thought they were scummy, weak-willed people with an equal measure of no morals and no sense of decency.

Now, though I still think infidelity is still absolutely wrong, I understand why some people are driven to cheat.  The absolute loneliness and despair I feel in my marriage right now is overwhelming.

Friday Weigh In - Internet Creeper Edition

Earlier in the week, I hoped against all hope that I'd once again be back at my 12/13/2010 low weight.  I was so tantalizingly close.

I didn't make it.  For some odd reason, my weight jumped up a pound and a half from yesterday, so I ended the week at 222.2 lbs.  Not as good as the hoped-for 220.4 lbs, but not so far off that I want to cry.

I didn't bother to measure my percentage of body fat.  I'll start doing that again when I cross the line into obesity.  Maybe I will reach that goal in the next couple of weeks?

It sure would be nice.

So this Friday's weigh-in is definitely the Internet Creeper Edition.  Remember the guy I told you about yesterday?  He texted me again to ask if I had any friends into what he was looking for.

I ignored him.

A few minutes later, I got another text.  He apologized and said he'd delete my number from his phone. He also said that it was fun chatting with me, and that I seemed like a "really cool" woman.

If I was so cool, why didn't he think my boundaries were worth respecting?

More on Guys Who Chase Fat Chicks

Earlier today, I wrote about Guys Who Chase Fat Chicks.  Well, now I have more to add to the story.  I've been going back and forth on whether to post this, and I finally decided, oh what the hell.  Maybe this will give someone a laugh.

Maybe it will make someone cry or shake their head...  My response has been to do all three.

As I mentioned earlier, I recently posted an ad on Craigslist seeking new platonic friends.  Now, just in case folks are confused on the concept, I included a link so you can look up the definition yourself.

Craigslist uses the following definition:

platonic: transcending physical desire

Okay, so if you looked either of the definitions, you probably understand that I'm looking for just a friendship.  I even went so far as to put down in the ad that I wasn't looking for no-strings-attached sex, a friends with benefits situation, an illicit affair, etc.

I made it pretty darn clear I was not looking for sex in any shape or form.

I also mentioned a list of my likes, once of which included going for a drives in my car.

So, yesterday morning, I got an e-mail from a 32-year-old man who said he was looking for friends.  If I was interested, shoot him a text message.

So I did.

In more or less sequential order, he told me:

1. He's attracted to older women.
2. He's attracted to fat women.
3. He'd like me to take him for a ride in my car.  (So far so good, right?)
4. He'd like me to take him for a ride in my car naked.
5. He'd like to come to my house and get naked.  (Whoa, buddy, didn't you read the memo about the fact that I'm in a relationship and not looking for sex?)
6. He'd like to watch TV naked with me, but I could keep my clothes on.  (As if this makes it any better.)
7. He'd like me to take pictures of him while he is naked.
8. Would I mind terribly if he pleasured himself while I took those pictures?
9. He liked my long hair.  In fact, he liked it so well it made him aroused.  (Okay, he didn't say it that nicely.  Instead he described the state of his organ at that moment.)

I wasn't trying to turn this guy on.  I kept hoping against all hope that he was just being silly or something, so I kept giving him opportunities to straighten up and fly in the friend zone.

The denouement of the conversation?  He sent me a naked picture of himself.  He'd used some sort of photo editing software to paste the phrase, "Waz Up?" across his privates.

Now I will say that this might have had a certain appeal if said 32-year-old was a smooth, hard-bodied stud.  If I were single and he was that stunning, I might have (briefly) considered abandoning my sanity and agreeing to such nonsense.

Sadly, he was not smooth or nicely-muscled.  He was overweight and hairy, sporting a beer gut and a nice set of moobs.  (Man-boobs, for those unfamiliar with the term.)

Umm, yeah.

At the end of the conversation, he tells me he's completely aroused and has to go to work.  He promises to text me in the morning.

Which he does, at 5:17 AM.

It happened that I wasn't asleep, so I texted him back, thinking perhaps he'd settle down a little.  I was wrong, very wrong.

He asked me to send him a picture of my long hair draped across my tits.  I declined, not wanting to become his masturbatory fantasy.  I was already regretting that I'd sent him a picture before realizing what  he was after.

So I again remind him that I'm not interested in a sexual relationship.  

His response?

I know, but would watching me get off be that bad?

I was still polite at this point, even though he probably deserved a slap upside the head.  I told him that it was fine he has his little fetishes, but I didn't want to be the object of them.  Then, I told him I had to go.

His final response?  He apologized saying that he had just thought I could help make some of his fantasies come true.

Gah!

Guys Who Chase Fat Chicks

About a week ago, I put an ad up in the strictly platonic section of Craigslist, looking for new friends.  I wrote a post saying that I was open to male or females, listed some of my interests, and made it clear that I was not looking for any sort of sexual adventures.

My motivation is to increase my circle of friends.  I've never had many friends to begin with, and over time those that I did have moved away.  Knowing that a divorce may well be in my future, I need to create some sort of social network for myself.

I've received a few replies and I've responded to a few platonic ads as well.  I'm finding a trend, though, that I'm not sure what to make of.

First off, it seems that a lot of people don't really understand what the word platonic means, even though they are posting and responding to ads in that section.  I've received a few replies that really seemed to be thinly-veiled and not-so-thinly-veiled solicitations for sex, which I ignored.

Even with the friends I'm starting to make, it seems that sex is not far from anyone's mind.  A few days ago, one of my recently-found texting buddies started drunk-texting me in the middle of the night and wanted me to come over to his house.

I've never met him, I am in a committed relationship, I am morbidly obese, and I'm probably 10-15 years older than he is.  If he was beeping me at one o'clock in the morning, it's pretty clear that he only wanted One Thing.

As bad as it might sound for my character, I don't fault him for wanting that One Thing.  He is, after all, young and male.

I didn't discover his texts until the following morning.  For a moment, I wondered what I would have done if I had been awake.  I'm sure I would have just texted back and forth, teased him a little, and gone back to sleep.

Talk is cheap, and I'll probably never meet this particular texting buddy in person.

Still, I'll admit to briefly imagining running over there.  I would never actually do it, but it was fun to think about for all of about 30 seconds.  I wouldn't follow through because I hate infidelity, and all of my first-time experiences with a new sexual partner have been less-than-wonderful.  They've been awkward, embarrassing, and unsatisfying, so I want to reserve that activity for someone who I know and care about, and who wants something more serious than another notch in his bedpost.

I do have to admit to feeling flattered, though.  The man is gorgeous.  He's tall and fit and oh-so-incredibly-nummy-looking.  In real life, I can't remember the last time anyone (male or female) flirted with me.  Even when I was young, I wasn't pretty, and no one noticed me.

I was a plankton long before I was over 40.

I do wonder if the reason Mr. Gorgeous (and men like him) go after fat women is simply because they are hoping for sex.  If you look on the personal ads, most men are looking for women who are HWP (height-weight proportionate).  I've seen ad after ad where guys say things like, "Sorry, I'm not attracted to overweight women."  If you are a heavy woman, you just don't have all that many choices.

So I wonder, is Mr. Gorgeous looking for thick chicks because he really likes them, or is he looking because he knows that heavy women aren't being asked out by good-looking guys?  If they aren't being asked out, maybe they will be a little bit more likely to put out in the hopes that they'll be able to keep their beautiful date.

I have another long-time male friend who has never wanted a relationship.  His interest in women is confined to FWB (friends with benefits) arrangements.  I get the impression that he's slept with a great many ladies in his day, and he's told me that there isn't a great deal of difference between them when it comes to the actual physical act of intercourse.  He's done it with fat women, thin women, old women and young women, and at the end of the day it's all the same.  He chooses ladies with whom he can have some sort of friendship, and takes it from there.

So if my friend is right and there really is no difference, perhaps Mr. Gorgeous is also aware of this and hopes he'll get luckier quicker with fat chicks because they have fewer options.  Of course he could very well be sincere and looking for a long term relationship.

I don't know.  How do you know what anyone's motivation really is?

Another one of my recently-found Craigslist friends I met in person.  He's a few years older than me and is pretty heavy himself.  He is in a long-distance relationship with a woman.  He was interested in a platonic friendship because he doesn't have much to do after work.  One evening we were texting (I think about weight loss and health) and I made the comment that I was fat.  His response was surprising.  He said, "Fat is beautiful."

I didn't say this, but I thought, "No, it's not."

If I Could Lose Five Pounds

So I've been here before.  I've been to the point where mere obesity is just a few pounds away, but I've never managed to cross the line.  I've come tantalizingly close, but each time I get there, things change and the goal slips ever more elusively away.

If I could lose just five pounds I would no longer be morbidly obese.

Will it happen this time?

I don't know.

I will say that my worries about divorce are big enough that my appetite is unusually low.  I've skipped dinner several nights this week for various reasons, but I haven't been particularly distressed about it.  Usually, going to bed hungry is my worst nightmare.  I find it hard to fall asleep, and I'll wake up at 3:00 AM starving and unable to drift off again.

But lately?  Last night The Wife made dinner, and I just didn't have the stomach for it.  I couldn't even finish my lunch.  I felt hungry, but my stomach was flipping and rolling like and I knew that if I ate anything I would end up feeling sick.  The day before, I ended up forgetting to eat my lunch and didn't eat until almost 4:00 PM.  By the time dinner rolled around, I wasn't hungry.  A few days before that, I met a friend for coffee (I ordered bottled water) and didn't get home until late.  I figured it was just too late to eat, so I went to bed.

Surprisingly, I haven't had much trouble being unable to sleep because I'm hungry.  Sure, I've been awake thinking other things, but my stomach has not been one of them.

So I see that goal of being simply obese floating ahead, tantalizing me.  It's so close, and yet it seems like it is a million miles away.

Another Long Absence

There are times in your life where things take a turn and you just don't know quite what to say.

I am there now.

It seems that, after being together for 13 years, The Wife and I are on a collision course with divorce.

And yes, we have to get a divorce because we are legally married.  We are one of the 18,000 couples that married in California during the short time that same-sex marriage was legal.

At the moment, I live on a unique island.  Once I step off, I won't be allowed back on, even if I wanted to re-marry the person I am with today.

At this point, I don't know what's going to happen.  Things came to a head last month, when The Wife told me she wanted a divorce.  Coincidentally, the day happened to mark the exact anniversary of the date we temporarily separated 12 years earlier.  We managed to get back together then.  I'm not sure it will happen now.

In fairness, I should say that The Wife's desire for a divorce is not a total surprise.  We have been having problems for a while, and we've come to the point where we both recognize that we have reached an epistemological abyss.  We have some differences that seem irreconcilable.  She wants certain things in her life that I do not, and vice versa.  On some of these issues, there isn't a compromise position or a halfway point where we can meet in the middle.

I see a divorce as inevitable at this point.  It's not what I want, and The Wife has said it's not what she wants, either.  Unfortunately, the irreconcilable differences remain, and they aren't of a nature that we can simply agree to disagree.

The Wife is now looking for a job.  She's agreed to postpone making her final decision until the end of this year.  I wish she would wait for a full year.  By then, The Kid will be 18, and we won't have to deal with the headache of visitation, support payments, etc.

Sure, getting it over with now would probably hurt less, but it would create a whole lot of disruption for The Kid.  She has been a profoundly troubled child, so I know that a divorce will only make things worse.  Sadly, her troubles have included suicidal thoughts, violent rages, and physical assaults against both The Wife and myself.  As much as it pains me to say it, we are looking forward to the relief that will come when she becomes a legal adult and we are no longer responsible for her.

There's only a year left...

But that doesn't really matter.  That's the unfortunate part to no-fault divorce.  If one party wants it, the remaining spouse can do little to stop the process.  I see the wisdom in the law, as it isn't right to trap people in marriages they don't want, but it seems sad that a union created by both parties can be ended by one.

So now I'm faced with all the worries that face most divorcing couples, though our situation is slightly different.  Most couples fight bitterly over what they want to keep.  Our disagreements are over what we don't.  We own a home together, with an accompanying mortgage, and the real estate slump has left us in a position where we owe more than it is worth.  The house is old and run-down, in a neighborhood with increasing crime, so neither of us want to stay.

Although the possible end of a relationship and all the accompanying financial difficulties are on my mind, the issue that looms even larger is this question:

Will I find myself alone for the remainder of my life?

My relationship status is complicated by the fact I've never really identified as lesbian.  I've considered myself queer, because I've been in a unique relationship with The Wife that I'm not sure I would want to repeat.  Although I'd be content to remain where I am if there were a way to resolve our differences, I don't see myself as being interested in dating women in the future.

I think most people are probably bisexual given the right man or the right woman.  Certainly it was the case with me, as I've been living with a woman for the past 13 years.

I know, call me a traitor to the lesbian community, but there it is.

So, here I am, almost 47 years old, morbidly obese, and interested in men.  I fear I am going to end up like Plankton, the UK woman who would very much like to have a man in her life but has been so far unable to do so.  She, at least, has the advantage of being HWP (height-weight proportionate) which I clearly do not.

My mother and father divorced more than 20 years ago when she was in her 50's.  She has never found a partner, though she has claimed she didn't want another.  I can't imagine spending the the last decades of my life alone and lonely, which is what I know I am facing.  The odds aren't good for single women pushing 50, and I'm sure they are even lower for ones who aren't pretty.

And the sad thing is, even if I were thin, it wouldn't fix anything.  In objective terms, even when I was very young, I was never pretty.  After I graduated from high school, I was rarely asked out, or even looked at by anyone of the opposite sex.  And now, with a history of being a lesbian, guys will want me to do threesomes.  No thanks.  I am so painfully monogamous it hurts.

When I found myself single at age 30, I was dateless and celibate for almost three years.  Finally, I cast myself into the online dating pool.  I managed to go on quite a few dates, but they were all disasters.  Some of the problem, I can fairly blame on my weight.  At the time, my BMI teetered right on the fine line between being overweight and obese, and many men just don't like fat chicks.  On one particularly horrible date, I had a man actually berate me about my size over dinner.

The dates were bad.  One guy spent our date complaining about his terrible life.  Another just turned and walked off, leaving me speechless, in the middle of the date.  Another bluntly told me he wasn't physically attracted to me and didn't want to see me again.  (He did get points for honesty, though it still hurt.) Another met me for dinner at a Mexican food restaurant, but decided he didn't want to eat.  He stared at me like I was a hippo, while I nibbled on the chips.  I was starving, and I didn't feel right ordering dinner when he wasn't eating.

There was only one man who asked me out on a second date.  He was much older than me, but I thought he was charming and sweet, and we shared some common interests.  It was on that fateful second date that he told me he was a sadist looking for a slave.  His idea of a good time, he told me, was to give his woman a sound whipping.  I ended up in tears by the end of the evening.

Now I am open-minded, and I do have friends who participate in various fetish communities, but I'm not into receiving pain.  Needless to say, I passed on his offer.  Interestingly enough, we did remain platonic friends for quite a few years.  For a sadist, he was a heck of a nice guy.

It was at that point I decided to give up.  I figured I was doomed to be forever single.

I ended up meeting The Wife online one evening.  I made an offhand remark in a chat room that I needed a wife, and the next thing I knew we were off sending private messages to each other.  I had to instantly confront what had just come out of my mouth.  Since my relationships with men (I'd been married once and in two other long-term relationships) all seemed to end with failure, it occurred to me that I might try switching teams.  What started as simply a stupid, offhand joke, turned into a relationship of 13 years.

So after my nightmare dating experiences in my 30s, I'm not sure I can expect anything better now that I'm in my 40s.

The idea is terrifying.

Faced the knowledge that I will want to seek out a new relationship, the need to lose weight seems even more urgent.  On the plus side, a recent change to my thyroid medication has finally made it relatively easy to lose weight.  After gaining a bit from my low at the end of 2010, I'm now within two or three pounds of that weight again.  My jeans are loose, and by the end of the day the denim stretches and they are slipping down.

Sadly, I still haven't been able to get into any of my smaller pairs of pants.

The weight is coming off, and I'm not having to try very hard anymore.  No more walking around starving to death in order to lose half a pound in a week.  That's great, and I'm happy about that.

The last change in my thyroid medication has finally repaired my health.  I feel good for the first time in years.  The great part is that an end has been put to the weight gain, hair loss, lethargy and brain fog.  The bad part is that my libido has come back with a vengeance.

I suspect I have been hypothyroid for most of my adult life.  Certainly I've had symptoms, and my sex drive has always been extremely low.  It is only now that I understand why people do absolutely crazy things for sex.  I never understood the phrase, sex is a powerful motivator, until now.

Perhaps it's just karma coming to bite me on the ass.  In the past, when I was with my male partners, I just wasn't all that interested.  I frequently turned them down, which I know contributed to the problems we had in our relationships.  I wonder if I'm now getting to experience how my frustrated ex-boyfriends and ex-husband must have felt.  Sorry.

Is there really a cosmic payback for past bad behavior?  Who knows.  I just find it ironic, during the only time I've ever been really interested in sex, that I don't have an enthusiastic partner.

I should probably say, because I know some nice gent will offer, I'm not looking for a boyfriend until my divorce is final.  I may be a lot of things, but I'm definitely not a cheater.  I figure I've earned plenty of bad karma for the stupid stuff I've done over the years as it is.  I don't need to go out and do something I know is wrong to earn more of it, even though I might be sad and lonely right now.

I really want to be in a relationship where I am loved.  I want a relationship where I can give love.  I want a relationship in which I can enjoy a satisfying and passionate sex life.  I want a relationship where I can live and grow old with someone,  I want a relationship where I can be intimate and vulnerable with another person, and where we know each other so well we can finish each other's sentences.

I am scared to death it will never happen.

Fashion Statement

Last year, when I was working my way through the Couch to 5K and Bridge to 10K programs, I managed to chafe my way through, not one, not two, but three pairs of sweat pants.

Yeah.

Okay, so I'll admit it. I am fat, and my thighs rub together when I walk or run. I guess ordinary cotton sweat pants aren't up to the task, and in a relatively short amount of time, the fabric starts to pill. Then it wears away, and eventually I end up with a hole or two in the crotch of my sweats.

At first, it wasn't a huge problem. When I was working my way through C25K, the longest run was only 30 minutes. The chafing didn't seem to be so bothersome. Unfortunately (for me) as I started doing the longer runs that approach an hour in the B210K program, the rubbing started to become really annoying.

As I started to lose a little bit of weight, my sweat pants started slopping around. Once they started slopping around, they'd drag my underwear along for the ride, and I felt like every few steps I was having to pick cotton out of my copious ass. By the time I'd finished B210K, I'd worn big holes in my third pair of sweat pants (my that last run did feel drafty) and I ended up with stinging red patches on my thighs where the outermost layer of skin had been rubbed away.

It didn't feel so bad until I'd got into the shower. Then those little stingy spots made me yelp.

It dawned on me that it was time to buy some Proper Running Clothes.

Yeah, right.

I figured the chances of anything fitting me were going to be about zero.

Still, we found the name and address of a local running specialty store, and we paid them a visit. I felt awkward and embarrassed there, because everyone in the store (customers and staff alike) were clearly fit runners. There I was, the obese middle-aged slob, trying to buy a pair of shoes, because my old ones were just about dead.

I found shoes. Then it came time for the tights. I told the guy to bring me the biggest size they stocked, and I found one style that actually fit.

I couldn't believe it. These pants were supposed to be capris, but because I'm so darn short they reached to my ankles. They were the stretchiest damn things I'd ever seen, and without too much bouncing or wiggling, they pulled up over my copious ass.

Wow, something that fits. I bought three pairs of the running tights (all they had) since I knew I'd be running commando in them and I didn't want to double-wear nasty running tights after I'd run in them once.

Commando, for my UK and OZ friends, means that one is going without underwear.

Umm, yeah.

So I realize that I'm making a serious fashion faux pas here. I am old, fat, and my ass goes on forever, so I really don't have the body for running around in public wearing stretchy running pants that don't leave anything to the imagination.

But, those pants sure are comfortable. They are stretchy, yet they provide a little bit of compression so my fat doesn't feel like it's slopping all over the place when I run. Best of all, they are made out of extremely slippery nylon and spandex, which means that my thighs (and other parts down under) aren't chafing anymore.

Still, I'm not really keen on being seen in this get up. I've been running with a sports bra and a t-shirt, which I try to pull down over my copious ass. Unfortunately, as I run, the shirt tends to ride up and my butt hangs out for all the world to see.

So, to avoid being spotted by too many commuters on their way to work, I started running in the morning, early. That worked for a while, but pretty soon I started noticing that the industrial park I have to run through to get to my favorite jogging trail is often occupied by early-morning truck drivers. These guys are driving big semis, and are mostly young and macho.

It made me want to hide.

So every morning I'd try to sneak through the industrial complex, and about half the time I'd get caught. One morning it was because a driver wanted to turn left into the driveway I was crossing. I suppose it's a good thing that he saw me, as I otherwise would have been crushed flat by his semi. The worst part?

He waved at me!

Yeah, he waved at me. I couldn't very well ignore him, as he was being courteous, so I waved back. Lucky for me, I was already red-faced and sweaty, so he couldn't see that I was blushing because I was so embarrassed. I honestly wished that the ground would have opened up a hole and swallowed me right down.

So this carried on for several mornings. I'd run through the industrial area, and I'd get caught each morning by someone different. Sometimes, it would be the semi-drivers. Other times, it would be some random guy in a pick-up truck waving and giving me the thumbs-up gesture.

The worst, though, was the young (and gorgeous) African American guy who had parked his truck in the middle of the street. He got out of his truck and was walking to the office warehouse as I huffed and puffed my way down the sidewalk. I was on the return home, so I was especially hot, red-faced and sweaty. In short, I looked ugly, fat, and out-of-breath.

What he did next, totally surprised me.

He stopped dead in his tracks, turned around and started walking back towards me. He stopped, and started clapping and shouting encouragement at me. I don't remember what it was exactly that he said, other than something like, "You are doing good momma, keep doin' what you gotta do!"

I didn't know how to respond. Dropping dead of embarrassment was at the top of my list. Instead, I mustered up a smile and thanked him (breathlessly of course) as I ran by.

And now, I figure I just don't give a shit if anyone sees my fat ass. Too bad for them if they don't like it. They can always turn and look somewhere else.

Long Time No See

So I realized, recently, that I haven't touched this blog in well over a year. I'd pretty much forgotten about it, because I was so busy dealing with other things. The other things mostly consisting of things like:

• The Kid, who has been downright awful. (Think out-of-control teen on steroids)
• The Job, which went thermo-nuclear busy last January and continued like that for most of the year.
• The Wife, who I finally got to take a solo vacation with between the Christmas and New Year's holidays.

The Diet kind of took a back seat for a while, especially since I've been fooling around for close to two years with my thyroid medications. I think I'm finally in a halfway decent spot with that, and I feel mostly human.

I didn't finish Bridge to 10K that I was writing about back at the end of 2010. Shortly after I wrote that post, I got a horrible cold, which kept me away from running for a number of weeks, and then I started with a new thyroid medication that wasn't working out very well for me until we got the dosage right. I finally did get back to the Couch to 5K and Bridge to 10K programs this year, and finished them exactly a month ago.

I can can now run four and a half miles in a single stretch, though I'm still terribly slow. Since I finished B210K, I've been running three to four days a week at distances between three and four and a half miles. Yesterday, I ran a measly two and three-quarters miles, because I took The Kid with me and she pooped out early.

As for my weight, it's been up and down. I'm about 19 pounds heavier than I was at my low in 2010, but the weight is finally trending downward again now that I'm back to running. I'll update those statistics in my sidebar later. I'm a little discouraged that I got so close to just being overweight back in 2010, but just never quite made it.

Maybe this year will be better, though to be honest, I've really stopped trying to lose weight. At this point, I'm just doing my runs three or four days a week, and we'll see where that goes. Just the fact that I can do it at all is a good thing.