The Spite Diet: 32 Day Update

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“Scales and Arpeggios”

Hi, my name is Crystal. Hi Crystal. It’s been 21 days since my last Update.

Spite Diet Reminder

  • The goal is supposed to be to change my eating habits and lifestyle to improve my health and see how much weight I can manage to lose before my next doctor appointment on March 29th.
  • I started it because my “lady” doctor, suggested i ask my regular doctor about Ozempic, a drug manufactured for diabetics that has shown positive results doe weight loss patients. And I wasn’t even asking about losing weight.
  • There’s a blog post coming soon about Ozempic.

For more info see this post.

So, how’s it going?

Terrible.

Seriously, listen. I’ve let the idea that I’m not going to be eating all my favorite foods the way I was eating them, the absolute consistency of routine has become boring, and I’m frustrated with a lack of results.

I’ve had more Pepsi than I should have (I firmly believe it is my one true vice and I’ll need a 12-step program to break its hold on me), I had a mental breakdown the other day and decided I needed Mexican food.

It was absolutely delicious and I regret most of it.

I feel terribly alone in this journey. There’s a post about that too but I’m not linking it.

I know how to fix (most) of it

But I have issues. I won’t go to the gym by myself because i’m an anxious scaredy cat. I won’t message them because I’m afraid of doing something to look stupid. And it’s too cold to walk.

And to be honest I can’t really go walking or to the gym on days it would benefit me most (high stress days) because it’s my job to pick up The Kid from daycare on those days. And of course I don’t want to add to His high stress.

I also know that to see results I need to break my own rules way less often. I saw more results (lost more weight) the first week because I had zero Pepsi and really stuck to the diet. I made less not so great choices and tried harder.

I want to do better. I need to do better. I want to prove my doctor wrong, even if I won’t see her again for another year. I don’t need drugs to lose weight. I need willpower, determination, and to not be so depressed gosh darn it.


So, wish me luck I guess?

The Spite Diet: sucks.

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It’s hard to change your lifestyle when you are alone.

When my mom had her stomach surgery, she was in the hospital for two months, she was on ventilator for a large portion of that time. In that span of time she had gone through the withdrawal of her nicotine addiction and had been without a cigarette.

When she was released into my sister’s care (excellent care) she was without cigarettes. I cannot remember how long she stayed with my sister. But she eventually decided that she was healed enough and knew how to take care of herself and her newfound circumstances, and was ready to go back to the home she shared with my dad.

But when she returned, neither my father nor my brother, who both lived with her, nor my other brother, stopped smoking around her. My sister and I were smart enough to never pick up that habit. But the rest didn’t care enough not to smoke around her.

She was in her late 50s, and it would have done her a service to neglect to partake. I’m sure pointing this out to them now would mean nothing to them. But had they done so, she might have stopped for good.

However, one day, she decided that she would stop at a gas station, and buy her first pack of cigarettes in months.

She tired to hide it but we knew.

Had her lifestyle change been important to everyone the same way it was to her and myself and my sister, she might have had better success. Her support system could have been larger, so to speak.

Of course a lot of it has to with the individual’s willingness to stick to the change. But it helps having people around you who are right there with you. It’s easier to do things together than it is alone.

There’s a point to my rambling.

I’ve been doing this “Spite Diet” thing for one month. I’ve only lost 6 pounds. I’ve weighed myself three times. I’ve not gained it back. But I’ve only lost 6 pounds.

I tried to go to the gym but couldn’t get in.

I try to eat healthy and meal prep.

The other night I cooked some diced chicken and quinoa. It was delicious and I wanted to save the rest for lunch the next day. I rested for a while after my meal and returned to the kitchen to package up my leftovers, and it appeared I’d left less chicken than I thought.

My first thought was, “oh, maybe I didn’t just take half? Or “did I maybe get seconds without realizing?” As if my eating disorder (not claiming to have an eating disorder here) is so bad I black out while eating.

Now, I knew my husband had made his own dinner. I saw the cooking paraphernalia on the stovetop. He wouldn’t have ate some of my chicken as well as what the hell ever he made for himself, would be?

Oh, but he would. “Honey, did you eat some of my chicken?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I was going to save that for my lunch tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry.”

That’s it. Oh, sorry. That’s all.

Tonight, I had my dinner and was going to make a quick wrap for lunch at work tomorrow. I was thinking about that wrap all day. The last one was so good.

It’s a whole wheat tortilla, a serving size is good deli turkey, a single slice of Swiss, some spinach, a little Mayo, and if I was feeling frisky a thin slice of tomato (too much makes it soggy). I would pair it with veggie straws and some pickles.

I walk into the kitchen and see, sitting on the counter, my turkey. Now, last I left it there were enough for two wraps. There was barely enough for one. I could have made it work.

But, it was room temp. Now, one could assume that had it not been out that long, it might have been fine. But one does not know what I know, which is that my husband and child left the house around (you know what I don’t know what time) before noon. Eight hours before I went to make my lunch.

I’m a dumbass. But I’m not so much of a dumbass as to not know that eating eight hour old counter lunch meat would make a good time not. I mean, I might lose some weight afterward, but that’s not how I want to do it. Or how I want to die.

So, when he walked into the room, I asked him, “honey, is that my good Turkey?”

“What turkey?”

I point. “That room temperature Turkey over there.”

“Yes. The Kid wanted a sandwich. Sorry.”

At this point I really just shut out the universe. pretty sure I said, “it’s fine” at least ten times.

He asked me if I wanted him to go get more. It was after 8pm at this point. No, it’s fine. Are you sure. It’s fine.

He went to his room was gone for a few minutes, and came out dressed for public (meaning not shorts) and said, “I’ll be back.”

Where you going? To get Turkey. I said it’s fine. Are you sure? It’s fine. I’ll figure out something else or I’ll buy lunch. It’s fine.

You know, I understand the kid was hungry. I understand that even I have forgotten to put stuff back in the refrigerator (RIP giant bag of frozen broccoli). We all do forgetful things, and we also have to feed the children.

But he ate my chicken, when he had or was making his own dinner. He’s not trying to lose weight or eat healthier (going all day and not having anything but off brand slim fast and Quaker chewy bars isn’t healthy either).

I’m alone in this. I’m doing it by myself. Just me and a stupid app that reminds me that even if I think the food I’m making is healthy, it is in fact not. Because of all 9,000 things that have to be taken into account.

If I didn’t just THOROUGHLY LOVE FOOD, if my emotions and eating were not lovers who slow danced from dawn to dark, if I didn’t crave the most delicious gawd awful unhealthy delicacies, then losing weight would be a cakewalk.

But two days ago I had Mexican food, real Mexican food, because I was having a stressful day and craved that polo bandito, and a large Pepsi. Tonight I had Taco Bell. And you know what, the first thing I’m gonna eat when I finally give up the charade of this “Spite Diet” is most of a little Caesar’s hot and ready pepperoni pizza. And I’m going to have some kind of enormous delectable ice cream dessert.

That six pounds I lost two weeks ago, well it’ll be back. Like Arnold Swartzenegger in that terminator movie. Even if I don’t quit, even if I improve my eating, and change my lifestyle completely. Because I’m not made for success. I’m built for failure. Like a structurally unsound tower made from off brand Lego bricks from the reject bin.

Why am I even doing this? To live longer? For my pants for fit better? To be able to work an eight hour shift without wanting to remove my own feet?

None of those things. Who wants to live a long life in this world? most of mg pants fall off me right now anyway, losing weight will make it worse. And the damage is already done to my feet and ankles.

No, I started this last month to prove to a doctor I see once a year that I can lose weight without taking an injectable diabetes once a month. I did it to spite that doctor. To prove her wrong. And all I’m getting out of it is depression and cravings for food I can’t have.

I’m not a happy person anyway, and this is not helping.


Relax he doesn’t read this

Keys

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One year, for Christmas I assume, my mom got my sister and I necklaces. They couldn’t have been very expensive, by any means, definitely less that $100. But my mom never did anything half way.

Her 100% always came in the form of thoughtfulness and care. When giving gifts she put a lot of thought into it, wanting to get someone something that she knew they would love, or that meant a lot.

Now I cannot remember for the life of me what my sister got. But I remember mine was a key. She told his, when she gave them to us (at least she told me), that she picked them out special, and there was a reason she got us what she did.

I asked her why she got me the key and why it was so special. Her answer was super annoying at the time but also very much her. “You’ll know.” She said. “It’ll come to you.”

Now, this was a long time ago, I want to say I wasn’t married yet. But I tend to remember obscure useless things as opposed to important information, so it’s safe to say I’m getting something wrong. But I do remember saying, “well, I do like keys.” And I do.

(There’s a bag of random keys somewhere in my house that happened to be in my husband’s brother’s belongings when he passed. My mother in law gave them to my husband for me and said, “give these to Crystal, she might be able to do something with them.” I actually have ideas.)

Now, not knowing why she choose the key for me bothered me, for years, but not enough for me to stress it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and I did love the necklace. And my mom.

But through the circumstances of life, one loses things, they go back and forth, and get misplaced, no matter how valuable they are to you. I cannot tell you the last time I saw that necklace. And it’s not been recent. It hurts my soul that I’m missing something from her. But I’m sure she’d understand, she’d lost enough of her own items in her lifetime.

But I recently remembered it. I often do, when keys are involved.

When she died (I’ve always found “passed away” to be an odd saying) we were going through her things, as tradition sees fit. I never understood why it had to be rushed. But one of the things we decided to search through was her jewelry box.

Said jewelry box has its own history. She’d had it for many many years, I believe since she was 16. It’s beautiful and old and full of the most random items, that are NOT jewelry. Except the mood ring.

We went through that box that day, looking at all the little trinkets and knick knacks and items she’d hoarded with the best intentions. Pictures and figurines and pennies. Locks of hair and crumbled four leaf clovers.

All of it has attached memories and stories and lore that will never be shared again, at least not in the most perfect, wonderful way she told it. Memories lost of a lifetime turned to ashes blown in the wind one humid sunny day.

On that jewelry box, whose hinges had been pried off for access previously—I do not know who by, nor whether their intentions were good or bad, there is nothing if monetary value there—is a lock.

The lock is a sturdy one, strong. By a company that I believe no longer exists. The reason the hinges were pried off, was because they couldn’t get to the lock. Now, Mom had lost the key multiple times. Which isn’t hard to believe, knowing her and how long she’d had the jewelry box. There were two keys.

That day, the day she died, and we decided to dig gently through the physical representations of my mother’s youth, reliving the memories of the stories she told about every single item, I somehow became the guardian of one of the keys.

I now keep the key, hanging from a chain, with two cheap mother of pearl style buttons decorating it. I sometimes wear it out and about, and like to imagine that she’s near when I do.

As the years have gone by, as they do in spite of our best wishes, I think of my mom less often, and those thoughts are more often less sad. I’ve had one or two very very brief seconds where I have forgotten, for a glimpse of a moment, that she is gone. And living in the momentary thought, that maybe I could still call her number and tell her, “goodnight, I love you” is pure bliss.

But wearing the key to her jewelry box, and somehow the key to her memories and a key to memories of her and with her, I am reminded of that key necklace. And her reason behind giving it to me.

“You’ll know.” She’d said. “It’ll come to you.”

I am the keeper of a key. Her key. My key.


My world needs you, but you do not need this world. 🔑

Well, 62 was a good number.

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I’m not calling it failure because I didn’t put a number on it. I’m really just amazed I lasted as long as I did, even with a little cheating. But last night, after working on several different things, I forgot and went to sleep.

Here’s a list of things I did tonight.

  • Created a store front for sticker sales.
    • There are two stickers by myself and two by The Kid.
  • Made my Cricut work
    • When I tried to use it to cut stickers the other day, it messed up. I used some tips from TT comments to figure it out. I had to turn off my lights to do it.
  • Figured out how to keep Cricut Design Space from adding a bold black line to my images.
    • It has to do with transparency. Now I just gotta figure out how to fix the stickers I’ve already designed.
  • Completed The Kid’s stickers.
    • The only thing I did was create a white background with a distinct and clear border for CDS and the Cricut to cut.
  • Published the storefront and sold two stickers!
    • They were the kid’s but still. She earned $4.
  • Learned how to and made a stamp/brush in Procreate to easily add “The Kid ‘23” to her images.
    • At some point I’ll get her to help.
  • Printed two of each of The Kid’s stickers, and one of mine, just so I didn’t waste paper.
    • I then used the Cricut to cut said stickers. While they were cutting I got two separate notifications that two of hers sold.
    • We packaged those up in a sweet envelope, after she wrote a little message of course, and they’ll be hand delivered tomorrow. Ah, the glory of knowing your customers personally.

I have some to make for my nephew, he only gave me guidance on one, requested an edit on another, and liked one more but didn’t say if he wanted it. It’s not ready anyway.

I’m sure this will be yet another failed side hustle did me, but it’s fun. And if I don’t print something every day my stupid printer acts a fool.

I’m not planning on beating my streak for a while. Gonna post as they come. But I’ve got a few in the pipeline. Another page of Cora’s story. A review of some Oats Overnight flavors, and some Spite Diet updates.

Anyway here’s Wonderwall some stickers.


My Bob I’m tired.

I made some stickers

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Sorta

Well, really not sorta. But it was a struggle.

The goal was to make them to sell, but my Cricut is being absolutely stupid.

First, I had to do some warranty violating things to my printer. If I go for more than a few days without using it (honestly it’s typically six months to a year), it wants me to clean the print beads or nozzles or whatever and that uses an ungodly amount of ink.

But I figured out why that has to be done. It’s because of the amount of in that just sits in the nozzles between prints that doesn’t even get used, dries out and clogs it. Then it ushers the most inefficient way of unclogging, which is I assume, blading an ungodly amount of ink through the nozzles to force any clogs out. This way the manufacturer gets more money because you run out of ink faster. Plus, when it says the ink is empty, it’s 100% not empty.

Anyway, I eventually got it printing well, reminding me that it is a really good printer, despite its faults, after all. I waited until almost bedtime to work on it, they printed fine.

I had to dig my Cricut out and plop it on the bed.

It was only after one cut attempt, a calibration and another cut attempt that I gave up and hand cut out these six stickers. One was sliced from the poor cut, leaving me with five.

I’m keeping the damaged one for myself. Saving one for the sister, that would have left four. However, I just realized I slapped a perfectly good one on my water bottle, leaving three. I miss counted that twice so that’s a sign I should probably give up and go it bed.

In other news, I finished the most recent drawing challenge. It’s awful but it’s done. I’m going to start working on the video as soon as my iPad stops being a spaz. And I’ve had some sleep.


It really is too bad I’m.l not wealthy enough to be unemployed

Lazy Day

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Today was Martin Luther King Jr Day. So the kid had a day off school, and it was my regular day off work. So we got to have a nice lazy day at home.

I managed to make myself a breakfast that my Lose It app said was only at grams of fat. And it was good!

And after I dragged myself away from TT I worked on the third drawing challenge some more. Took ages but I’m finally happy with the dragon. But the coloring part is giving me an aneurysm.

I was looking for free Procreate brushes that would help with dragon scales. But all the ones that lol like they’d work are paid. And I know I won’t use them again, so I don’t want to spend the money.

But he’s almost done so I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.

I’ve been a bad at dieting the last few days. Went out to eat with my sister and her kids for my nephews birthday and I didn’t try to do well. I’ve also forgotten been too lazy to meal prep the last few days. I also had Dino nuggets and fries for dinner. I feel bad, like I disappointed someone. When I’ve got no one rooting for me, really.

I really just want to give up and drink me a Pepsi and eat me a couple pizza rolls.

But I’m also saving money by packing my lunch. So. I guess I’ll stick with it. Just like I’m sticking with this blogging thing.

Hopefully Cora tomorrow.


Also it’s raining so I’m expecting to get dropped on the head in my sleep

Lazy Day

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Today was Martin Luther King Jr Day. So the kid had a day off school, and it was my regular day off work. So we got to have a nice lazy day at home.

I managed to make myself a breakfast that my Lose It app said was only at grams of fat. And it was good!

And after I dragged myself away from TT I worked on the third drawing challenge some more. Took ages but I’m finally happy with the dragon. But the coloring part is giving me an aneurysm.

I was looking for free Procreate brushes that would help with dragon scales. But all the ones that lol like they’d work are paid. And I know I won’t use them again, so I don’t want to spend the money.

But he’s almost done so I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.

I’ve been a bad at dieting the last few days. Went out to eat with my sister and her kids for my nephews birthday and I didn’t try to do well. I’ve also forgotten been too lazy to meal prep the last few days. I also had Dino nuggets and fries for dinner. I feel bad, like I disappointed someone. When I’ve got no one rooting for me, really.

I really just want to give up and drink me a Pepsi and eat me a couple pizza rolls.

But I’m also saving money by packing my lunch. So. I guess I’ll stick with it. Just like I’m sticking with this blogging thing.

Hopefully Cora tomorrow.


Also it’s raining so I’m expecting to get dropped on the head in my sleep

I tried to go to the gym

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I’ve officially been on the Spite Diet for 17 days. Weigh-in (according to my home scale) is tomorrow. While I’d lost 6 pounds at last weigh in, I know that it’s important to weight loss to exercise.

So I decided I was going to go to the gym.

But, see, there’s a problem. I don’t like doing new things, by myself. That’s why it took me nearly a decade to pump my own gas (which was also done out of spite). Doing new things by myself gives me anxiety.

I don’t know if it’s the fear of failure, or anti-social tendencies, or what, but the idea of it was daunting.

Even at 7am, when I knew it would be hours before I would be going, I thought about it all day. This anxiety is probably the reason why I don’t ask for help a lot.

Anyway, I finally convinced myself to go by telling myself I would make a TikTok video (yes, you read that right) about the process. Going, getting out, going in, on thr treadmill, and then in the vehicle being all proud of myself.

But eventually the time came for me to clock out and change. I’d brought my gym clothes to work to change in the breakroom rest room. That’s at I didn’t have to do it at the gym.

I changed, no one mentioned my clothes, and walked to the truck. I messaged mg husband that I was going and he said, “Work up a good sweat.”

You see, once I got over the initial walking in bit, I knew that I could get on the treadmill and do what I’d came for.

But alas, it was not to be. Upon arrival I sat in my truck for a minute. I said to myself, hey, you’re an adult. You don’t need someone to hold your hand. You pump your own gas you can go into the gym.

I see there aren’t many people there, I get out, walk to the door, and ITS LOCKED. My first thought was, okay, after hours, it’s okay, three years ago you paid for a key fob to get in after hours. I run back in and… it doesn’t work. I try it over and over. It makes the beeping noises but no dice.

I am disappointed. Almost on the verge of tears.

Also a little angry. Angry because I’d had to psych myself up and got nothing but anticlimactic failure.

Eventually I decide, instead of pouting and going home, what felt like empty handed, I am going to go to a local walking trail in town and walk.

My dudes it was 36 degrees.

But I did it.

I walked one lap, about a half mile. It felt good but my nose was cold for two hours after. If it were warmer I would have walked more.

I would have spent an hour in the treadmill though.

I am going to go back, I’m going to go at regular hours, and I’m going to see about getting a replacement key fob. Because Sundays are gonna be the best days for me to go by myself. And I will go by myself.

Still, I’m a little proud of me for walking up to that door alone. And walking the track alone.