Continually pudgy

I was doing well. I carefully watched what I ate and went to the gym three to four times a week. My willpower was strong, I proudly monitored the decreasing numbers on the scale and felt better in my clothes.

But being told my cancer was probably coming back during my doctor's appointment in May, promptly doused the flames on my determination to lose weight. After losing 19 lbs. in three months (and with only two people noticing), I lost my will. I figured what was the point.

I know I feel better when I'm losing weight, but it's a huge struggle for me. I have to measure everything and deny myself yummy treats most of the time. I read labels, track calories, and schedule every meal and snack. To be honest, it's a lot of work to get my body to shed pounds.

And if I'm going to fill up with fluid again anyway, which is completely out of my control, what's the point? If I'm going to get sick again, why should I bother?

To be honest, my mind jumps to posts from a couple of my blogger friends who died in the past six months. They both lamented the loss of ability to derive enjoyment from food. Neither one of them could eat much, if anything, near the end. One longed for a big, sloppy cheeseburger, yet could only consume liquids. If that's what it's going to be like near the end, I'm going to enjoy whatever the hell I want now.

I know, I'm not near the end, but those types of thoughts really stick with me. I love food and part of me says, damn it, enjoy it all while you can.

I should find a happy medium between eating well and eating everything. But quite honestly, I don't have the willpower for that right now. Maybe when my situation is more under control, I'll find it, but until then, where's the chocolate?

Tina