I posted the image above two years ago.
Life was really good then: I was active, I was slender, I
was healthier. I lived in a lovely home in the Midwest, in a
lovely neighborhood, with lovely people. And I had a position
that I also loved. I had plans to buy a larger home and to
move my mother-in-law in with us, because my father-in-law's
health was in significant decline, and I didn't want mom alone
in her home over the winter.
A few months on, I lost that position that I loved due to
layoffs. I lost that house that I loved. Instead of moving the
mother-in-law in with us, we moved in with her. I was angry,
and I became depressed. Something about my health changed. All
of the advances I'd made in improving my health over the previous
couple of years had vanished by the following spring.
...and I May Ask Myself, "Well, How Did I Get Here?"
Last spring, I was hired by a company in Dallas and was asked
to move down. That summer was spent on househunting trips, buying
our Dallas home, and getting settled. The change in everything was
disruptive.
Today, two years on, I'm happier generally. It took a while
for us to find a family physician — hampered in part by a
massive influenza outbreak — but my doctor renewed my Fentermine
prescription, and I'm happy to say that the other night, I wore
clothes to a semiformal event that I hadn't worn in quite some
time.
This Time Around
My weight loss approach this time is different than it had
been. First, I'm not weighing myself at home. My wife asked me
about this just this morning. I'm letting the doctor's office
handle the weigh ins, because I don't want to make my weight
the center of an infoporn obsession. Last time, I was weighing
myself every day, and recording those weights on my site so I could
graph and chart the sh!t out of them (and use it as an excuse to
do even more crazy stuff with my charting class). I'm not creating
an obsession this time. I know weight is coming off because I'm
fitting in my clothes better, and because my daughter especially
has noticed — we have a standing date in our pool in the
afternoons; she told me she can see a difference. Those things
are good enough for me, I think. Well, and I want to notice a
difference, too, obviously; I'll carry myself better if I have
a little pride in my progress. I think it's going to be a little
difficult to feel that pride while I'm obsessing over numbers.
Forest for the trees kinda thing.
Fentermine, My Old Friend
Getting reacquainted with Fentermine has been a little
challenging. In my first follow-up with my doctor, I was
able to recount for her all of the things about taking it
that I'd forgotten over the past couple of years — like
the constantly dry mouth and occasional constipation (I stopped
making fun of Dulcolax and Benefiber ads after my first really
bad experience).
Fentermine is no joke. It speeds the metabolism, meaning that
even little things that excite you take longer to recover from;
like the time it takes for your heart rate to slow and your body
to relax going from jumping jacks to being seated.
Tonight I sweated for probably two hours while I cleaned the
house — a task which included the discovery of a special feline
surprise in the laundry room (a laundry basket "took one for
the team" today). When all was done, I got into my pool to cool off.
I feel like I sweat at the drop of a hat and I become more
irritable on full-dose days.
Anyway, enough crabbing. I'm simply trying to say that it has
its drawbacks — along with most things in life — and so one
must make choices.
My choice at this point is to continue.
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