It's hotter than Hades here and I've had yet another epiphany!

Sunday morning. Hot. Ugh. Hate heat ("heat" being anything over 75 degrees, of course). I went to the movies yesterday just to get away from it for a little while, as we do not have air conditioning here at Chez Denise. Vanity Fair was really pretty good, although I wasn't expecting much, to be honest. I'm such a snob when it comes to books moving to the big screen and I've been disappointed in the past, so it's possible I've just lowered my standards. I will have to say, though, that they sort of hacked up the story line and left out a lot of background information so that they basically had to cram in some stuff near the very end to make sure that you knew Becky's avaricious need for approval was a bad thing. I don't know, maybe it was just the heat, so will someone else who's read the book go and see it and tell me what you think?

OK, feel free to leave now if you've read through enough of my "I've had it and here's what I'm doing about it" rants in the past. (I'll wait. [Tap, tap, tap of foot.] Proceeding now with rant.)

I'm sick of being fat. Wait, wait, wait...I know I've said it before, but I've come to some new conclusions, so don't leave just yet. Ever since Friday night's funeral service, my eating has been fairly out-of-control. Mega-sized movie popcorn, carne asada nachos, sesame chicken with fried rice, and more have sailed down my gullet in the last 60 hours and have left me feeling sick. Not just metaphorically sick, but, literally, sick. My digestive system is in full revolt. I haven't felt this horrible since, well, since I started the original Ten Percent Challenge back in June. Not a coincidence, methinks. I was 17 pounds from achieving my second Ten Percent Challenge goal (212) when this little detour began, and only three pounds from earning my second charm for my bracelet. Where I am now is anyone's guess because I'm not getting anywhere near a scale until I've been faithfully eating, walking, and drinking at least 100 ounces of water every day for a week. I'm guessing it's about six pounds gained, though. Wait, wait, wait...that's so wussy. Hang on while I run and weigh myself. [Annoying hold music plays.] Alrighty then! I'm up to almost 236 pounds or five pounds above my last, official weigh in. Not as bad as I'd thought and yet still I feel even sicker than I did before I weighed. In any case, I've digressed slightly.

Here's the big epiphany: I'm fat, it's killing me (literally, because I'm diabetic), and I'm tired of this part of me taking over my entire existence. I seldom leave the house because I'm so ashamed of how I look, which means I've lost all but the hardiest of real-world friends, which isolates me still further. I've, essentially, put my life on hold until I get this weight thing figured out and, in some ways, that's what I've had to do because, as I said above, this will kill me if not dealt with, so it has to have the highest priority. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those people who can effectively multitask unless the quality of results isn't important and, since this is my life we're talking about, the quality is quite important to me. So then, what to do? Make this my complete, unwavering focus for two solid months (November 8th), see where I am, and, only if I've been focused and made significant progress, start adding other things in. Like going back to school to get my degree in Business (something I can actually use in my career). Like volunteering to be a court-appointed special advocate for children. Like joining the young people's group at church. None of that, though, until I can put together two months' worth of solid focus on this, my most important project. I know that I can do this - I am doing it (when I'm not actively sabotaging myself) - I just need to stop mamby-pambying around and do it. No half-assed efforts. No "trying". Just do it. I don't have to be perfect, just focused and fully committed, and we'll see how I feel in two months.


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