The Odds Are Against Me

Here's another explanation of why it is so hard to lose weight.  This is from CBS News:

Weight loss can be a battle for everyone. But a large new study says that for obese people, the odds of reaching normal weight are near impossible.

The study, published in the American Journal of Public Health, shows the odds of a clinically obese person achieving normal weight without surgical interventions are just 1 in 210 for men and 1 in 124 for women in a given year. Among the most morbidly obese, the chances were even worse.

If you would like to read the study, you can find it here.

1 in 124.  Those are some pretty shitty odds.  I'd like to think this time around I'll be successful, but I have to admit those numbers are daunting.

All I can do is to keep doing as I'm doing.  Today is day 9.  Optimistic me hopes I'll be able to drop close to 100 pounds in 100 days.

Realistic me thinks it will probably be much longer than that.

Levels of Obesity

Back when I started this blog, my first goal was to get myself to be obese.  At the time, I didn't realize there were multiple categories of obesity.

At 241.9 lbs, I am morbidly obese.

Based on new classifications of obesity I have found, I have updated my goals table:

If I reach...	BMI...	I will be...
218 lbs	39.9	severely obese
191 lbs	34.9	obese
163 lbs	29.9	overweight
136 lbs	24.9	normal weight
118 lbs	21.6	at goal
101 lbs	18.5	underweight

This means my next mini-goal is 218, where I will only be severely obese.

It seems like that is an odd goal to celebrate.  On the other hand, it is still better than being morbidly obese, right?

Nine Down

As of this morning, Sunday, I've lost exactly nine pounds.  I started my diet on Monday.

Not too shabby.  Not too shabby at all.  

Of course I realize that next week probably won't be so dramatic.  Usually the first week on a VLCD you lose a ton of weight, which is mostly water.  Still, I'm noticing that my pants aren't quite so snug in the thigh.  And, maybe, it looks like my big fat but is a little bit smaller.

I'm starting to notice some changes in my skin.  With the exception of my arms, which are almost always dry, everything else seems a little softer and maybe a bit oilier.  When I pointed that change out to The Boyfriend, he agreed that he could feel the change, too.

Now, here's a bit of TMI...

My boyfriend and I have a very busy sex life, but we don't often do The Deed.  We do other things, but The Deed (think peg in hole, here) isn't something that happens very often.  On the occasions that we do The Deed, we do it ride 'em cowgirl style, because he's got a bad back, and he likes being able to relax and enjoy his experience.

So we did The Deed this morning.  We hadn't done in in a while because a few months back I injured my shoulder and pushups have been painful.  My shoulder has been better recently, so we thought we'd give it a try.  Since I started the VLCD, I've been more interested in sexy time.

Ride 'em cowgirl was a lot easier and a lot less awkward for me.  It made us both happy, and it started The Boyfriend's day with a smile.

That's always a good thing.

Reducing Chaos

One of the things that I've noticed, as I grow older, is that life tends to be full of unnecessary chaos. Sometimes, one finds themselves in a set of circumstances that add to one's stress level, without there being a good reason.

As part of my most recent decision to lose weight, I've decided to stop doing things that are difficult or damaging to me, especially when they yield little or nothing in return.

This morning, I started the process by which a long-standing acquaintance will probably come to an end.

For years, I've known a woman who often causes a lot of distress in my life, mainly because she has a temper and can be very intense.  Years ago, we were casual friends.  Over a decade ago, through a combination of bad luck and poor decisions on her part, she became homeless.  She bought a decrepit motorhome with the last of her money, put her stuff in storage, and has lived in in ever since.

About five years ago, she asked me to serve as a mail forwarding service.  I agreed, despite having some reservations, because I thought it was the right thing to do.  I wanted to help her, but I wasn't able to do much to help her get back onto her feet.  I couldn't offer her housing (her personality is far too abrasive for me to survive long as her roommate), a job, or money to get her into an apartment.  I thought collecting her mail was the least I could do.

She's tried to improve her life.  She went back to school and eventually got her degree.  She's applied for public housing, tried to get numerous jobs, but hasn't managed to pull herself out of long-term homelessness.  It's been at least a couple of years since she graduated and still, nothing.

Collecting and forwarding her mail has become a thankless, and tiresome job.  My acquaintance has shouted at me numerous times over the phone because she's expected a piece of mail that didn't come on time.  Once she bawled me out over a something her automobile insurance sent her, and another time I got to listen to her shriek over a traffic ticket.  Most recently, she was upset because she received a check, which I forwarded on to her, that she never got.

Whenever she calls and I answer the phone, I'm guaranteed to at least an hour long rant that covers all the things that are going wrong in her life.

I am sorry.  I truly am.  However, I can't continue doing it.

I have a lot of other things going on that I need to worry about, besides getting yelled at over someone else's mail.  I have a demanding job. I'm helping The Boyfriend prepare for a lawsuit.  My mother has cancer.  I need to take things off my plate that cause me unnecessary stress (and cost me money) because there is only so much of me to spread around.

About three or four months ago, I gave her notice that I needed to stop collecting her mail.  She ignored me.  Finally, I gave her a hard deadline.  Instead of accepting my boundary, she asked if The Boyfriend or Guitar Buddy would be willing to do it.  They both said an emphatic no.  I don't blame them.  Her aggressive and abrasive personality has alienated everyone.

Today she's been haranguing me by text, asking for the phone numbers of other mutual friends and acquaintances.  One, who I asked for permission before giving out her number, was very clear.  She didn't want to invite that level of chaos back into her life.

I finally told my homeless acquaintance that it was time to shit or get off the pot.  Either move back to town or get a new address in the city where she's staying.

I've come to realize that an important part of losing weight is self-respect.  You have to respect yourself enough to care, and to enforce the self-discipline it requires.  In so doing, it's also important to draw boundaries around others who don't respect you as well.

I deserve not to have this level of chaos in my life.

The Inhumanity of Student Loans

I know this post is off topic for my blog, but student loans are the reason I didn't post anything yesterday.  The Boyfriend and I both had the day off, and we spent all of it assembling paperwork for a lawsuit involving his student loans.

For those unfamiliar, student loans in the United States are one of those debts that you cannot discharge, even in bankruptcy.  For those unfortunate folks who went to college, and didn't find a decent-paying job after graduation, the loans become an ever-ballooning albatross.

In The Boyfriend's case, he got out of college, and couldn't find work that paid a living wage.  For 90% of his life, despite working multiple jobs, he has not earned more than the Federal Poverty level.  While the Federal Government offers all sorts of so-called "flexible" income-driven payment plans to help people stay out of default, the fundamental problem with all of them is that they do nothing to stop the ever-accruing interest from ballooning the loan balances out of control.

During the 10% of The Boyfriend's life when he earned barely above the poverty level, he still didn't make enough to pay even the interest on his student loan.  His income was so low that even at the highest, he still would have qualified for food stamps and Section 8 federally-subsidized housing, had he applied.

What started out as a modest amount of debt 20 years ago, has now quadrupled in size.  It represents an amount that is nearly ten times his annual salary.

Every year, he receives a notice from his loan servicer demanding he re-certify his income.  Every year, he must prove he is destitute, and it serves as an unpleasant reminder of how worthless his Bachelor's Degree was.  He went to school, studied, and worked hard for nothing.

He graduated from college, applied for work, and nothing came of it.  His job applications to professional positions were unanswered.  The only positions offered him were the same menial jobs he found before he went to school.  So much for the promise that a degree is the golden ticket into the middle class.

He is far worse off than if he had never gone to college at all.

This year, he was reminded that the "standard" loan payment, which would get him out of debt the quickest, amounted to 97% of his monthly gross pay.

How can anyone be expected to repay a debt of that enormity?  As it is, The Boyfriend can't afford to buy a decent used car, or keep the wheezing POS he has on the road.  Completely in debt and discouraged, he filed for bankruptcy.  As part of that proceeding, he filed an additional lawsuit, called an adversarial proceeding, to attempt to discharge his student loans.

While student loans are not normally dischargeable in bankruptcy, there is one exception.  If you can prove something called undue hardship, then you can get out from underneath them.

Anyway, The Boyfriend and I have spent an enormous amount of our free time assembling papers, typing narratives, and putting together documentation to support his case that repaying a debt the size of Texas is unreasonable.  I hope it works.

As for how all of this relates to my diet -- it doesn't.  However, it's time I join the millions of other voices who are screaming about the inhumanity of the current student loan system.  It is inhumane to create a system that dooms people to a lifetime of debt slavery.

The Boyfriend is not the only person I know who has had their life ruined because of student loans.  He is among the millions who haven't married or had children because of student loan debt.  He will likely never buy a house, have any assets for retirement, or hold any of the trappings of a normal, middle class life.

As for Elizabeth Warren's plan to cancel up to $50,000 from everyone's student loan balances?  That's great, but it doesn't do much to help those with extremely high balances.  Bottom line, we need to reform our bankruptcy laws such that student loans, for those who really aren't able to repay, can be discharged.

But even more importantly, we need to reform the system so that people don't end up in this mess to begin with.  It should be our country's priority to have a highly-educated workforce.  Whether someone goes to school to be an artist, a rocket scientist, a doctor, or a teacher, they shouldn't get out of school with an amount of debt they will never be able to repay.

Anyway, 'nuff said on all of that.  Back to dieting...

Mini Flavor Review

As I've mentioned, I decided to go the VLCD route using Dr. Howard's Success Diet.  This is a liquid diet which is similar to the UK version of the Cambridge diet, which has since been renamed The 1:1 Diet.

Here's my review of the flavors so far:

• Chocolate Mint - great
• Chicken Soup - great
• Mocha - great
• Mushroom soup - pretty good
• Cookies and Cream - OK
• Orange - not good, definitely wouldn't buy again
• Vanilla - pretty bad
• Cappuccino - makes me gag when hot, we'll try cold again later
• Banana - terrible!!!!  (one sip and I nearly barfed)

I've also tried some of their protein bars.  Here's what I think of them:

• Chocolate mint - OK, but has a lingering aftertaste I don't like

Ask me in a week or two how I feel about all of the flavors.  I imagine my preferences will change as time goes by.

Six Years Gone By

Yesterday, I decided to resurrect my blog.  It's been about six years since I've regularly posted.

Last night, I went back and re-read the whole thing.  I guess I should re-start by posting some updates:

• The Kid turned 18, dropped out of school, and immediately returned to her biological family.
• My divorce with The Ex was finalized.
• I found a new boyfriend.  We met online in December of 2012, but didn't become an official couple until 2013.  Going forward, he will be referred to as "The Boyfriend" in the blog.
• The Kid, who is unmarried, has since had two kids.  One of them tested positive for drugs at birth and has been taken away by Child Welfare Services.  CWS contacted me about nine months ago and asked me if I wanted to take custody of the child.  I said no*.  
• I was reunited with an old and very dear friend.  He and I lost touch back in 2005.  Coincidentally, I found him just as his long-term girlfriend was kicking him out.  He's been bunking with The Boyfriend and me for about a year.  He's the reason I learned to play guitar.  I'll call him "Guitar Buddy" for now.

Some other things worth noting:

• Getting divorced wasn't so bad.  I discovered, after The Ex and The Kid were gone, that The Ex had an enormous spending problem.  Once our finances were separate, I suddenly had a lot more money.  Remember how I was always complaining we were broke?  A significant portion of that was because of The Ex's financial infidelity.
• I was able to refinance (and keep) the house that The Ex didn't want.
• I was able to pay off the vehicle loan, and credit card debt.
• Despite my profound fears about losing my job, I didn't.  I'm still working for the same company.  While the job is still super-demanding, I've pushed back somewhat, received a raise, and the demands on my time are less unreasonable.
• Dr. Howard's Success Diet is much tastier than the U.S. version of The Cambridge diet.  While some of the flavors aren't to my liking, I'm not finding their worst to be as gag-worthy as Cambridge strawberry.  Of course I'm only beginning Day 3 of sole source.  Ask me in a week what I think of the stuff.

* I said no to taking custody of The Kid's child because I am 53 years old, and I need to spend the next 20 years focusing on planning for my retirement, not raising a grandchild.  We (The Ex and I) struggled enormously with The Kid's social, intellectual, and behavioral challenges that stemmed from her biological mother's use of drugs and alcohol while she was pregnant.  I know I do not have the time, energy or strength for a second round of, especially since I never wanted to raise an infant.

Sometimes, when it comes to troubled adult children, you have to know when to step back and not get involved.  At the end of the day, I care about The Kid, and wish she was making better choices, but I also realize I am powerless to change what she is doing.  I'm not going to throw myself into the fire again.

In this case, the most loving thing I can do for myself, The Kid, and The Kid's Kid, is to allow someone else to take over.  I hope they have the time, money, energy, and desire to do the job right.

Starting Over

I'm starting over.

Again.

It has been a long time since I've posted.  The Ex is gone.  The new boyfriend, who is no longer new, is still here.

I've put on a ton of weight since I was at my lowest.  On Monday, I weighed 250.9.  It's been gradual, just a bit by bit, until I finally realized that I've once again fat and I need to do something about it.  I think it's a combination of menopause and an extremely stressful job that keeps me on call 24/7/365.

Boyfriend says he doesn't mind, but I don't like how I feel.  I'm to the point where I don't feel comfortable in my own skin.  While I've "only" popped up one pant size since my lowest, I feel uncomfortable.  The other day when I was scrubbing the shower floor, I realized how hard it was to reach the floor.

When I go camping, it's hard to move gear around.  While I have been walking for about an hour on mornings, when it's above 40°F and not raining, it's not making much of a difference in my weight.

It's time to fix this.

This time around, I'm trying a new VLCD.  I don't have the patience for Weight Watchers, where I starve for weeks at a time, while everyone around me eats delicious food, only to discover I've lost half a pound.

Fuck that.

So, it's back to three meal replacement shakes a day.  We'll see how it all works out.  I'll let you know.

Almost, But Not Quite, Halfway There

I realized this morning that it had been quite a while since I posted.  This morning's weight?  190.8.

I have lost just over 71 lbs.

That's a lot of weight.  It's almost a person. When I tell people I've lost over 70 lbs, they are surprised.  They look at me in shock.  Some will say, "I thought you've lost a few pounds."  Others say, "You look great."

But the truth is that I don't look great.  Even after losing 70 lbs, I am still obese.  I am still not quite halfway to my goal weight.

People also say to me, "Don't you feel great?"

I'm not sure how to answer that question.  Do I feel better than I did when I weighed 262 lbs?  Of course I do.  But, the reason I feel better doesn't have much to do with the lost fat.  It has to do with the fact that my thyroid was finally properly medicated.

I see the weight loss as nothing more than a side effect of thyroid medication.  At this point, I'm not trying to diet.  I'm not counting calories, skipping dessert, or eating rabbit food until it comes out of my ears.  While I notice I'm not as hungry as I once was, I'm not going around skipping out on things I want to eat.

If I want it, I eat it.  If I don't want it, I don't eat it.

Granted, I'm not eating bowls and bowls of ice cream or piles of junk food.  I feel like I've reached something of a point of equilibrium.

In the 11 weeks (rounded down) since my last weigh-in, I've lost 9.2 lbs.  That's not exactly going to win me a world record, but I figure anything in the right direction is an improvement.  If I'd get off my dead lazy butt, I'm sure I'd lose more.

But I'm not sure I care all that much right now.  I have a lot on my plate.

The Ex moved out last month taking The Kid in tow.  I was gone on vacation for the three weeks prior and returned to a vacant, but very dirty, house.  It's taken me a month (yes, it was that bad) to get the place cleaned up.

My stress level has dropped from being very high to pretty low.  Sure, I have my moments, still, but overall, I think that this divorce is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.

It's hard to believe that anyone would say, "my divorce was the best thing that ever happened to me," but it's true.

I don't want to talk too badly about my ex, since the parting is amicable, but the fact is that The Ex was a huge slob.  Our two biggest fights were about money and the cleanliness of the house.  The Ex wanted to be my wife, but didn't seem to want to do a very good job of cooking, cleaning or anything else that smacked of "wifeliness."  It is incredibly nice to have a clean house and know that it will stay that way.

Granted, having three pet birds doesn't exactly help, but I clean the cages and vacuum the floor daily.  My house is no longer a disaster, which it was before.  I was honestly embarrassed to have friends over.

It's been over a year since The Ex asked me for a divorce.  It's been 4.5 months since we signed our get (Jewish divorce papers).  While we still haven't filed for civil divorce, as we've decided to wait until The Kid turns 18 in 7 weeks, we have signed a property settlement agreement.  The hard part, it seems, is over.

And now it's time to get on with my life.

200

I was out of town for ten days, and when I got back I just didn't feel much like posting.  This morning, I stepped on the scale and was treated to a nice surprise.  I weight exactly 200 lbs.

Now 200 lbs isn't exactly skinny, but it is a milestone number.  I've wanted to see a weight below this mark for quite some time, so I don't think it's going to take much to push me past that line.  All total, I've lost 62 lbs from my top weight.

That's nothing to sneeze at.

I still have a long way to go.  I need to lose another 37 lbs before I'm just overweight, and another 27 lbs on top of that before I'll be at what's considered a healthy weight for my height.  Once there, I'll still need to lose another 18 lbs to get to my goal, which is right in the middle of my BMI range.

So, all total, I need to lose another 82 lbs before I'm done.

That seems so very far away.

Still, I have an optimism that I've not had before.  This time, I really do think it's possible that I will eventually lose the weight.  

I also have some other good things happening in my life that I'm not quite ready to talk about yet.  I don't want to jinx them by saying anything too soon, but it's all good.

So this morning I reached a milestone.  Here's to hoping things continue to trend in a positive direction.

Transsexuality = Narcissism?

In my post where I first mentioned The Ex's transsexuality, I spoke about Christine Benvenuto's book, Sex Changes: A Memoir of Marriage, Gender, and Moving On.  Although the circumstances of our separate marriages and divorces are quite different, I have to admit to feeling something of a kinship with Ms. Benvenuto.

In her book, she outlined how her ex changed after his announcement that he wanted to be a girl.  He started out as a caring, kind and wonderful man, and he became a selfish, narcissistic shell of the person he once was.

While I don't want to badmouth, as I think it generates a lot of unnecessary bad karma, I've seen a lot of changes in The Ex that aren't so complimentary.  I'm starting to wonder if there isn't a certain amount of narcissism inherent in transsexuality.

Since The Ex has decided to pursue Sex Reassignment Surgery (SRS), I've seen a total change in his/her personality.  Our every day interactions are difficult at best, and it seems as if speaking to me in a kind and respectful tone of voice is almost impossible.  There have been a number of times where even The Kid (who is not one to come to my defense) has asked, "Why are you being so mean to [Oinkstop]?"

I don't see why this is necessary.  The Ex is the one who wants to leave, so why be nasty about it?  The Ex is the one, after all, who signed a lease on an apartment that isn't vacant until late July.  If s/he was so desperate to leave, why not look for a place that's vacant now, and then move as soon as The Kid finishes school?

I don't get it.

I've noticed The Ex spending tons of money. Over the past few weeks, I've seen (or found evidence of) a new tattoo, a new bicycle, new clothing, and a new car stereo.  Every few days a new outfit seems to appear, and I'm simply puzzled by all the shopping.  The Ex has only received one paycheck (and it was only for about a week of work) so the timing of all these purchases seems ill-advised.  The Ex will also need to purchase furniture for the new apartment, so it looks like there will be even more spending.

Honestly, it's taking my breath away.

I'm left scratching my head at the moment because I don't know if this illogical behavior is caused by your typical divorce craziness, some innate mental illness, or just the side-effects of years of repressed transsexuality.  What I do know is that the person who is sleeping on my sofa is not the person I invited to live with me 14 years ago, or even the same person I married 5 years ago.

"People change," The Ex has said, repeatedly.

Do they?

While I agree that change is part of life, I don't know many people who have changed so utterly, so completely, that they become unrecognizable.  I don't know the person sleeping on my living room sofa.  He is a stranger to me.

Oddly enough, since his decision to surgically become a woman, I've seen less and less of his female side.  When we first got together, I really did believe that there was a female personality trapped inside of a male body.

Now, it's very hard to see more than an angry man wearing dresses that do not flatter his middle-aged paunch.

Spending Money Like Water

This morning, I found a set of keys that I didn't recognize under a pile of papers on the coffee table.  I took a photograph of them, texted it to The Ex and asked about them.  I was told they were keys to a bike lock.

A few texts back and forth and I learned that The Ex just spent $500 to buy a mountain bike.

This is The Ex who will be moving around the end of July.  This is The Ex who still hasn't received a full paycheck from the new job.  This is also The Ex who has run up over $6,000 on one secret credit card I didn't know about, and at least $1,000 on another.

This defies logic.

The rationale behind the bike was that The Ex plans to commute to and from work after the move.

But again, that won't happen until late July.

Wouldn't it have made sense to wait to buy a brand-new bicycle until after the move?

Just sayin'.

Seems like The Ex is spending money like water.  I just hope that I don't end up having to pay for some or all of this debt.

Unfortunately, I live in a community property state.

Me 1, Exterminator 0

This morning, the exterminator came back to the house to check the traps.  Two had been set off, but nothing had been caught.  I, of course, showed off the trophy picture of the rat I killed with the shoe.

"That's a good-sized roof rat," the exterminator said.

Ugh.

So far, the score is 1 to 0, with me in the lead.

Gah!

Last night, The Ex came home late from a Mother's Day BBQ he had been invited to.  Somehow, I see it as rather ironic that a male-to-female transsexual claims Mother's Day.  While he was at a BBQ, I came home after visiting my mother for the weekend and did laundry.

The Ex, of course, had said that he was "doing chores" while I was gone.  I didn't notice a damn thing done, and the kitchen was messy and full of dirty dishes.  When he walked in the door, I asked him to clean up the kitchen.  He washed the dishes, but didn't do anything about the rest of the mess.

Ugh.

He ended up making a comment about just how "stressful" getting divorced is.  I just stared at him.  I couldn't say much.

I couldn't help but think that all of this stress is something that he brought upon himself.  If he didn't want the stress, then why in the heck did he ask for a divorce in the first place?

I felt like I was supposed to somehow feel sorry for him.

Don't worry, I don't.

Killed a Rat

Yesterday afternoon, I killed a rat in the middle of my entryway floor.  I dispatched it by whacking it, multiple times, with a shoe.  It was not a pretty scene.  The rat didn't die right away, and there was blood on the floor.  After it was over, I found myself on the sofa, sobbing.

I don't like to kill things.  As I was slaying the rat, I remember looking into its eyes and thinking, "I am depriving this creature of its life."

I felt horrible.

By the same token, I can't really have rats running around in my house, can I?  I called an exterminator last week because I heard something scratching and squeaking around behind the kitchen cabinets.

Ugh.

This morning, I heard what sounded like a squeaking rat fight behind the cabinet.  When the exterminator came to check his traps, I pointed out where I heard the noise from.  He reset the traps in a different place, and not long after I heard what sounded like one of them going off.  About 20 minutes after that, I found the rat by the entryway door.

I feel like a murderous monster.  I'm usually the type who carries harmless spiders outside.

I texted a photograph of the dead rat to my ex because the infestation has been a topic of ongoing concern.

"Eww.  Nicely done!" was the reply I received.

I still felt terrible.

I was then informed The Ex signed a lease on a new apartment, but won't get the keys the end of July.  When I looked at the calendar, I realized that means the move-out will happen on the a month after our fifth wedding anniversary.  Just about a year after asking for a divorce, The Ex will be gone.

Happy anniversary, I guess.

How Hypothyroidism Contributed to my Divorce

As I said in yesterday's post, my ex's transsexuality isn't the only reason for our divorce.  Another major contributor was my hypothyroidism.  It created problems, not only while I was ill, but also after I started to feel better.

Prior to diagnosis and treatment, I felt terrible.  I was tired and cold all the time and I didn't have much energy for anything.  The Ex often suggested I was depressed and asked me to get anti-depressants from my doctor.  I did, at least once, but the medication didn't make me feel any better so I stopped taking it.  I'm not depressed, I would insist.  Sometimes The Ex and I would fight about the subject.

I'm sure that my lack of energy made me much less fun to be around.  Of that, there is no doubt.

Hypothyroidism also killed my libido, though that actually turned out to be helping our marriage, though I didn't know it at the time.

Although The Ex and I had (at least what I thought) was a decent sexual relationship in the beginning of our relationship, after the first couple of years our sexual intimacy dwindled.  I'd never had much of a libido anyway, so I didn't think it was a problem.  I actually thought it was a blessing to be with a partner who wasn't demanding sex all the time.

I had (erroneously) assumed that my lack of sex drive was normal.  Turns out, it was directly related to my undiagnosed hypothyroidism.

Fast forward to last summer, when my doctor and I had finally worked out the correct dosage of Armor thyroid.  For the first time in ages, I had energy, I felt good, and I wasn't cold.  Along with my new-found energy, I found another surprise -- my libido came back.

Now one would think that my libido coming back would be a good thing, right?  Well, in the context of my marriage, it wasn't.  The Ex didn't want a lot of sex.  Apparently, sexual activity simply served as a reminder that The Ex's genitals weren't what she wanted them to be.  Although she didn't tell me this until much later, she hated her penis and didn't want to use it.

So our sex life wasn't very satisfactory.  She didn't want it and I did.  That created a lot of conflict in our relationship.

The irony in this has not been lost on me.  One of the biggest complaints that many of my past partners have had about me was my lack of interest in sex.  Now I was suddenly cast into the role of sexually unsatisfied partner, and I didn't much like how it felt.  I wanted to hunt down all my past lovers and apologize.

I didn't.  I figured reaching out to talk to people I hadn't contacted in years wouldn't be good for anyone.  Still, I thought about it a lot, and I had a great deal of empathy and sympathy for those men I unknowingly frustrated all those years ago.  Back in those days, I just thought they were abnormally horny.  I had no way of knowing that I was unusually disinterested.

The ex and I eventually came up with a compromise.  We'd do things that would satisfy me that didn't require her to "perform" in any particular way.  We tried that for a while, but even that felt pretty lousy. It's hard to get real enjoyment or satisfaction from a partner who makes it clear that they really doesn't want to be there.

I mean let's face it, when your partner's attention wanders so much that the vibrator ends up off in the weeds, far away from the pleasure center, it's pretty clear that person isn't interested or attentive.

Our sex life (if you could call it that) came to an official end the first week in October 2012.  The actual end was probably a week or two before that, though the last time we had intercourse was even longer ago.

I don't remember the last time we had intercourse, the last time we kissed, or the last time we expressed any physical affection. I wish I did.  One often doesn't realize something is the last time until long after it happens.

I do remember the last time we tried to kindle some romance.  It was right after The Ex had asked me for a divorce.  We went to an expensive B&B in a town about 100 miles away.  We didn't have intercourse that weekend.  That should have told me something then.

The Ex had said she was willing to try to make it work.  It was already too late at that point, though she wasn't willing to say so.

At one point along the way, The Ex told me that my increased desire for sex is what pushed the desire for a sex change to the forefront.  As long as we weren't having sex, she could ignore her unwanted penis.  Once I had a libido again, that unwanted dangling bit of flesh was getting far too much attention.

So somehow, mysteriously, it became my fault that The Ex wanted a lop-a-dick-tomy.

But in the end, I think my hypothyroidism had a lot to do with it.

I can't help but wonder if I'd still be fat (but married) if I hadn't gotten my thyroid treated.

Why I am Getting Divorced

This is a post I've debated writing for a long, long time.  Back when I started this blog and I mentioned my family, I decided to mostly leave them out.  I did this for reasons of privacy, as I didn't want to post too much personally identifying information here for the world to see.

Also, I figured that my weight loss journey was really my journey and didn't really include members of my immediate family in anything more than providing a context for my adventures.  This blog was supposed to be about me and my weight loss, not them.

And so, I referred to my former spouse as "The Wife," and my adopted child as "The Kid."

Long time readers might remember that when I started this blog, I referred to my former spouse as "The SO."  I posted about that change back in July of 2008 when we got married.  One little (or perhaps not-so-little) detail that I have consciously omitted is the following:

My ex is a male-to-female transsexual.

So why didn't I mention this six years ago when I started my blog?  I didn't think it was important or relevant to my weight loss journey.  Granted, blogging about my transgendered spouse might have given me far more interesting blog fodder, bit it didn't seem really connected to the topic.

Why have I decided to write about this now?

Recently, I stumbled across Christine Benvenuto's book Sex Changes: A Memoir of Marriage, Gender, and Moving On.  When I read the book, I was so taken by it that I read it in a single sitting.  Though the circumstances of Ms. Benvenuto's marriage and mine are substantially different, her story struck a chord with me.

While reading her book, I realized just how darned alone spouses, ex-spouses, and soon-to-be ex spouses of transgendered people really are.  There are very few resources out there for people in our incredibly unique positions.  The subject matter is so sensitive that many people do not feel safe talking to family or friends about the issues that can arise.

So I decided it was time that I talk about this.

My silence on this topic is reflective of how sensitive this issue can be.  I didn't want to come out as a spouse of a transgendered person for fear of the possible reprisals I might face.

Now I realize that most people will read this post and immediately see the reason my ex-husband and I are divorcing, I feel it's important to say that it's not quite as simple as one might think.  When my ex and I met, I knew he was transgendered.  I knew he was a biological male, living and working as a female.

I didn't mind that.

When we got together, we had a great many long talks about his plans for transition.  He had already changed his name, was taking hormones, and living full-time as a woman.  He thought (as did I) that would be enough to solve his lifetime struggles with gender dysphoria.  He told me that he didn't want to have SRS (Sex Reassignment Surgery).  That was a critical point for me, as I'm fundamentally not a lesbian.

Since he didn't want surgery, we embarked on what turned out to be a 14-year relationship where I ostensibly was living with a woman.  I treated her as female even though she often exhibited some decidedly male characteristics.

Unfortunately, my ex changed her mind about surgery.  Knowing full well that SRS was a deal-breaker for me, she decided she wanted the operation and asked me for a divorce.

I didn't want the divorce.  We talked, we discussed, and we spent endless hours negotiating on this topic.  In the end, I agreed I would agree to relinquish my sex life and continue on in a sexless marriage so that she could have the surgery she so desperately wanted.

Even that wasn't enough for my ex.  In the end, she decided she wanted to have surgery and strike up a sexual relationship with an as-yet-unidentified biological male.  (This means she wants to sleep with a man at some point, but hasn't found one yet as far as I know.)

Since it's not like I could close my eyes, push really hard, and grow a penis, our marriage was over.

Now it's probably not fair to blame everything on my ex's transsexuality.  There were other things that contributed to our failure as well.  There were enormous fights over our extremely troubled kid, money, gun ownership and work.  Still, I think all of these things could have been compromised upon eventually.

In the end, my ex's need to cut off her penis and her desire to have sex with men outweighed the value of our relationship.  That was an extremely painful realization, because the topic of SRS did come up a number of times during our time together.  When we reached certain milestones in our lives that deepened our entanglements, emotionally, socially and financially, I always paused to ask, "Are you sure about your decision not to have surgery?"

The question was raised when we decided to start a business together, when we bought a house, when we decided to become foster parents, when we decided to adopt, and when we got married.

Each time, the ex told me that she was sure.  We started the business, we bought the house, we got married, we adopted a child and we financed vehicles.  We did many of the things most married couples did.  We continued on until one day, she simply wanted out.

The worst part?  The worst part was that she told me she had always wanted surgery.  She hadn't been truthful with me from the very start.

When I asked the very obvious question, why weren't you honest with me from the beginning? Her answer left me reeling.

"I had hoped those feelings would just go away."

They didn't go away.  Worse, the beginnings of my ex's mid-life crisis only intensified them.  Now that we had a business, a house, a kid and all the trappings of a middle-class life that she pushed for, she wanted out.

She asked me for the divorce last July.  We waited to separate and divorce because we agreed it would be better to wait until The Kid turned 18 this coming October.  We'd even talked about staying together until The Kid graduated high school, though we never definitively agreed upon that.

Despite our plans to stay together until The Kid turned 18, The Ex changed her mind.

She is currently looking for an apartment, and plans to move out as soon as practical after the school year ends.  The Kid, who suffers from mental illness, has violently attacked me on a number of occasions.  It's not safe for me to live alone with such a troubled child, so she will live with The Ex who is more physically capable of restraining her if needed.

While The Ex has found a new job and will move off into her new apartment in the relatively near future, I am stuck with many of the financial responsibilities of the life we had together.  The Ex decided she would just let the house foreclose if I didn't take over, so I'll be taking over responsibility for it.  Likewise, I'll be taking over a vehicle loan, and our small business.

Though our decisions make sense, I can't help but feel as if she's walking out of here to start a new life, while I'm left behind dealing with the wreckage of our old one.  There are many decisions we made along the way that I wouldn't have made, if I had known she wanted surgery.  I wouldn't have bought a house, gotten married, or adopted a child had I seen this coming.  She knew, and yet she withheld a very important piece of information from me.

In the end, I guess the reason why I am getting divorced boils down to one thing: The Ex wanted it.

As much as I wanted to stay married, The Ex did not.  A marriage takes two people, and when one is committed to leaving there isn't much the other can do to prevent it.

And yes, we tried counseling.  We even went to a counselor who specialized in stopping divorce.  It didn't work.  After two sessions, The Ex refused to continue.  She was done.  It no longer mattered that she'd made promises regarding our relationship, our home, our child or anything else.  She just wanted out.

At this point, we've signed a get (Jewish divorce document) but we have yet to file for our civil divorce.  The Ex has agreed to stay married until I can be covered by her new job's health insurance.  I'll lose my small group coverage through my business as you need a minimum of two people for small group coverage.  Since she is leaving the business, I no longer have the required number of insured.

Once I am covered by my ex's insurance, we'll file for divorce, and I'll be able to continue my insurance coverage under COBRA.  Once the Obamacare health insurance plans become available in January, I'll look at getting my own insurance, which might be less expensive.

So the logistics are pretty much worked out.  We will prepare our own divorce agreement and try to do as much as possible without attorneys.

There it is.

I didn't want a divorce, but we are done.  While a part of me is worried about the future, there's a part of me that's actually glad The Ex asked me for a divorce.  Since all of this has unfolded, The Ex has done some things that I think are pretty darn despicable, regardless of our marital status.  I guess it's better to see the true light of The Ex's character now, rather than finding out in another 10 or 20 years.

So that, dear readers, is why I am getting divorced.

Size 16

This morning, for the very first time in probably over a decade, I put on a pair of size 16w jeans.

They fit.

This means that I'm down five sizes from the biggest pair of pants I found in my closet.  Five sizes.  It's hard to believe.

I'm not sure yet, but I think I'm probably pretty close to being able to fit back into some of my old clothes.  These are things that have been packed away for probably at least 15 years at this point.

I know, I know.  Who saves clothes for 15 years?

I did, because I was always eternally optimistic that eventually the weight would come off and I'd be able to wear them again.

I saw my doctor this morning for a follow-up visit on my thyroid.  He was pleased that I'd lost 12 pounds since my last visit, and he said I don't need to come back for any more follow-up.  If I need my prescription refilled, all I have to do is have the pharmacy contact him.

I'm very happy about that.  While my thyroid disease is not "cured," it's at least managed, and I feel 10,000 times better than I did two years ago.

Hooray for Armor Thyroid, that's all I can say.

Oh, and those size 18 jeans I used to wear?  I bought those in March.

55 Down

This morning, I stepped on the scale and the numbers were down again -- 206.6 lbs, for a total weight lost of 55 lbs.

I told an online friend of mine and her response was, Good job!  That's awesome.

People tell me that losing 55 lbs is a lot of weight, but it doesn't seem like that much of an accomplishment.  When I look in the mirror, I still see fat.  Although I am able to wear smaller clothes, I still don't look very good. In terms of the total amount of weight I have to lose, I'm not even at the halfway point yet.

I am trying hard to see this as the achievement that it is.  I've lost a lot of weight.  Still, it's pretty daunting to think that I still have over 88 lbs to go.

By the time I lose all this weight, I will have lost the weight of an entire person.

Trending in the Right Direction

I know I've been terrible about posting here, and I guess I don't really have a good excuse other than the very lame, "I've been busy."

And yes, I've been busy, but that's not really all of it.

Much has changed since my last post, and things seem to be trending in the right direction.

My weight is down, though I haven't really been trying very hard.  The furnace didn't die, and the STBX calmed down and found a job.

The STBX will now be referred to as the "ex." We signed our religious divorce papers, so as far as I'm concerned, the relationship is over.  We are still waiting on the civil divorce proceeding, since remaining married for just a bit longer will make it easier and cheaper for me to maintain my health insurance coverage.

I'm glad for that, because even though I've lost over 50 pounds, I'm still too fat to qualify for a standard individual health insurance policy.  Since the ex has decided to leave our business as well as our marriage, it means that the business will switch to a sole proprietorship with no employees and I will lose eligibility for group, guaranteed-issue, health insurance.

Now, the plus is that I'm eligible to be covered under the ex's new insurance at work.  Once we file for divorce, I'll continue to carry it under COBRA, at least until the new insurance rules take effect here in California in January 2014.

Although some people have a lot negative to say about the new Obamacare health insurance rules, it will help me.  I'll be able to buy a guaranteed-issue policy at standard rates, regardless of my weight.

Speaking of my weight, I'm down a bit.  This morning I was 209 lbs. I'm still obese, but I've managed to drop a total of three pant sizes from my top weight.  I've gone from barely being able to slip into a size 24 to noticing that my size 18s are starting to get a little loose.

I'd say things are trending in the right direction.  The ex is sleeping on the sofa and will move out (along with The Kid) as soon as the school year finishes.  My weight is still dropping, even though I'm not trying very hard, given all the turmoil in my life.

I guess I'm in pretty good shape for the shape I'm in.

Broken

There are a lot of things around the house right now that are broken.

Number one, I think, is my scale.  Now, I can't say that I am complaining about it all that much.  The numbers are showing in a downward direction, which I like.  What I don't like is the fact that it seems to be weighing me a good eight pounds lower than what the scale on my Wii says.

Bathroom scale makes me happier, so I'm going to stick with that weight for now.  This morning it was 211.8.

In addition to the flaky bathroom scale, I think the furnace is dying and we had to have a repair guy come to work on the dishwasher.

Why did the dishwasher die?  The Kid hasn't been rinsing the dishes.  No damn wonder why the dishes aren't coming out right.

Oh well, $136 is cheaper than the cost of a new dishwasher.

The stress around here is pretty palpable.  The STBX threatened scorched-earth divorce proceedings because I wouldn't okay a $300 purchase for camping equipment right now.

Okay, let's look at this from a rational point of view, shall we?

The STBX is only working part time.  We are getting divorced.  Someone is going to get stuck with a house that is worth at least $50,000 less than what is owed on the mortgage, with 22 years left on the loan.

This is the time to spend more money?

I don't think so.

I suggested the STBX use one of the sleeping bags we already had.  The STBX agreed, and spent the night sleeping in a tent in the back yard testing out the bag.  I spent the night in the house where it was warm.

I didn't find sleeping alone as distressing as I thought it would be.

Of course the truth is, I've been sleeping alone for over four months.  Granted, we are still sleeping in the same bed, but it might as well be as if we were sleeping on two different planets.