May 15: Ouchie.

One of the things my oncologist said at my last appointment is that I need to get off pain pills because the tumor has become so small, there’s no reason for me to have any pain. This, of course, is bullshit. I still have pa-lenty of pain. I am still incredibly uncomfortable if I lie flat on my back. No, I’m not sleeping on the couch, sitting up straight, like I did for most of last year. But there is a surprising amount of pain in my back, and while the tumor might have caused some or most of it, I’ve recently begun to guess that there’s another reason for that pain too.

I’ve been careful not to take Vicodin on a regular basis, so as not to risk my body depending on it. Now that I won’t be taking prednisone, I probably won’t need Vicodin as often; hopefully Advil will take care of the everyday stuff. I’m trying not to think about what I’ll do if it doesn’t. I’m not a huge fan of pain and the grouch it turns me into (pssst… nobody else is either).

I did the recommended six weeks of physical therapy in the hopes that it would help. I loved my physical therapist, but I honestly don’t think the stretching and strengthening exercises did me a bit of good. My back hurts enough on a normal day; when I do PT Lisa’s assignments, it gets worse. I’ve almost completely stopped doing them at home.

In the past, Dr. O has suggested that I lose weight to help with my back pain. It makes sense that weight loss would make a difference. I’m not an idiot—I know I’m a big fat pig. But at my last appointment she said being overweight is the only reason I still have back pain. The only one? Really?

Last year, when my back pain began to get severe, I hadn’t just suddenly gained 50 pounds. In fact, I’d been at my current weight for a few years at that time (sadly), so y’know what? I have a teensy problem with Dr. O’s analysis. Yes, my excess weight most certainly contributes to my overall body pain, energy level, and preference not to leave the house. But there’s no way my oncologist will convince me that now that OJ is virtually gone, my weight is the only reason I still have pain. There *is* another reason for it. I don’t suspect it’s anything serious, but I also think I need to see someone other than an oncologist to figure out what it is.

And I don’t want to be weight-ist, but it might also help to see a physician who’s not a friggin’ size TWO and somehow manages to work in that fact at each visit.

Victor’s agreed to do the eating-healthier and exercising-more thing with me, so Friday morning we sent the kids off to school and headed out for a long walk together. My calves haven’t stopped screaming since. We have an elliptical trainer I’ve been using—my calves aren’t fond of that torture machine either. I know the muscle pain will disappear eventually, so I’ve been pushing myself through it and continuing to exercise. The achiness has now extended up into my hips and arse, and I’m walking around like an old woman—a whiny, complainy, very old woman.

So, yeah… yay Jen for exercising while feeling like ca-rap to get healthier. Hey hey hey. Whatev.

Oct. 20: Delicioso

The other night I gave in to temptation and had a bowl of pasta. It was delicious. The textures! The flavors! The colors! It’d been a long time since I’d eaten such a satisfying meal. Oh, it was simply lovely.

So I ate another bowl.

And because I couldn’t stop thinking about it, a couple hours later I had a little more. I have no self-control, which is exactly the reason I started to cut carbs in the first place.

Carbohydrates keep me fat. Fat increases the risk for all sorts of things that could kill me. That is not my goal, to die. I would like to live long enough to see which one of my kids is going to put me in a nursing home so I can re-write my will before I go all nutty. So I really need to not be eating three bowls of pasta every evening.

I just need to make these indulgences even less frequent. And that angers me because carbs are delicious and make me happy, and cutting carbs is not fun and makes me want to do bad things. Bad things to people that eat carbs freely and without guilt. I hate those people.

So let’s look at the bright side: occasionally I’ll slip, and that doesn’t make me a totally bad person. My addictions could be worse, couldn’t they? I mean, I could have an extreme craving for drugs or alcohol, and then I would endanger not just myself, but other people. I could be like my sister and use my drinking problem as an excuse to kill adorable little bunnies and pet spiders and my son’s friends I don’t like. (To be fair, it was just that one kid, and she didn’t kill him so much as try to kill him. Also, I think she was completely sober at the time. He was just a real shit-head.)

Sep. 9: Yes, I want fries with that

I walk to and from the kids’ bus stop almost every afternoon. It’s about two-thirds of a mile total; given that I have a very weak ankle and am incredibly lazy, this is not too bad and also not too smart. But this morning I had an errand and decided I should hoof it. I walked all the way to the post office and back. Yay for Jen, right? Feel the burn.

To be accurate, I didn’t walk to the city post office, but the big blue mailbox by McDonalds. It’s about two miles round trip. I’m not an idiot, you know.

I had my mp3 player with me—Rent is a great soundtrack to walk to, by the way—but forgot my wallet so I couldn’t even get French fries as a reward for my ambitious, uh, hoofing. Dammit. I could have totally walked off the fries, couldn’t I have?

This whole cutting-carbs thing means I haven’t eaten French fries in a very long time. I miss French fries. They make me feel alive. Exercise, on the other hand, makes me feel like I just might die. No, it makes me want to die. No, actually, it makes me want to kill someone else and then stuff my face with carbo-tastic deliciousness. Somebody, please: eat some fries for me today and DO NOT exercise.

I need a nap before I head up to the bus stop.

Aug. 26: Advice for a young boy

1. When your mom’s trying to cut carbs and is a teensy bit grouchy, you should not defy her in any way. If she asks you to pick up your Legos, for instance, you should do it, and you should do it immediately. Because if you don’t, she may backhand you, and remember she’s got that one pokey ring.
   
   
   
   
2. When your mom’s trying to cut carbs and cannot seem to get a good night’s sleep, you might consider keeping your things and self out of her way. And if she trips over the light saber you left on the stairs one more time, she will almost certainly inject peanut butter under your skin and encourage the dogs to nibble at you until they get to it.
   
   
   
   
3. When your mom’s trying to cut carbs and asks you to eat M&Ms for breakfast just so she can watch and enjoy them vicariously, you should do it. Yes, she’s finally lost it, and yes, you should probably get her some help. But just eat the damn M&Ms already, okay? She’s tired of seeing them whenever she accidentally opens the Cabinet o’ Carbohydrates™ and they make her want to drag you by the ankles across the unswept kitchen floor. (Also, you should sweep the kitchen floor for her.)
   
   
   
   
4. When your mom’s trying to cut carbs and has absolutely no energy and you won’t stop asking to go to the store and buy more Legos no matter how many times she says you already have too many, you should fully expect her to shove your face against the curb and stand on it until a neighbor sees.
   
   
   
   
5. When your mom’s trying to cut carbs and just wants to stop thinking about how much she’d like to have a bowl of pasta, you can bet she doesn’t want to hear every detail about your trip to Spaghetti Factory with Grandpa and Grandma yesterday. And if you insist on telling her about it anyway, she has every right to threaten you with the grater she’s using to make her Caesar salad without croutons.
   
   
   
   
6. Lastly, (and this one applies whether or not your mom’s cutting carbs), when you’re running from a bee, PLEASE watch where you’re going so you don’t bonk into a tree.

Fine, it’s too late; just file this info away in your noodle because you will need it again someday. You are my son, after all.

(Mmmmm... noodles...)

Feb. 22: This is 200 calories

Here's a site with pictures of 200 calories' worth of individual foods. Of course, there's a lot of celery, apples, etc. Peanut butter? Not so much. It looks like about a spoonful of peanut butter comes to 200 calories. That makes me cry a little.

Some questions:

• "Blackberry pie," about 2/3 of the way down the page, is obviously a Hostess fruit pie. Do Hostess fruit pies really qualify as pie? Aren't they just sugar cookies stuffed with fruit-flavored goo? I mean, if we're going to call Hostess pies "pie," then we can call Velveeta "cheese," right?
  
• The Bailey's Irish Cream. That isn't enough to get my buzz on! How can I be expected to stick to my diet if I'm not drunk?
  
• Yeah, like I'm gonna snack on two red onions. (I know that's not a question. I don't care.)
  
• Mmmmmm... fried bacon... it's actually not such a sad amount. I'm OK with it. (That is also not a question.)
  
• The pic of butter, another one of my favorite foods (I put it in my coffee), looks funny, doesn't it? That's, like, one of those whole-pound cubes and someone resized the image, thereby distorting it. I'm pretty sure.

This site is soooo not what I'll be referring to as I make our weekend meals plan.

I'll leave you with a quote from one of my favorite episodes of The Simpsons, in which Homer intentionally gains weight so he can go on disability:

Dr. Nick: "Hi, everybody!"
Homer and Bart: "Hi, Dr. Nick!"
Dr. Nick: "Now, there are many options available for dangerously underweighted individuals like yourself. I recommend a slow steady gorging process combined with assal horizontology."
Homer: "Of course."
Dr. Nick: "You'll want to focus on the neglected food groups such as the whipped group, the congealed group and the chocotastic!"
Homer: "What can I do to speed the whole thing up, Doctor?"
Dr. Nick: "Well... be creative. Instead of making sandwiches with bread, use Pop-tarts. Instead of chewing gum, chew bacon ..."
Bart: "You could brush your teeth with milkshakes!"
Dr. Nick: "Hey, did you go to Hollywood Upstairs Medical College too? And remember, if you're not sure about something, rub it against a piece of paper. If the paper turns clear, it's your window to weight gain! Bye-bye, everybody!"