Today's title is a mystery to me

Before I get into the meat of the matter today, I want to thank my daughter for the heads-up about this week's episode of Penn & Teller on Showtime. There probably is a YouTube or Google Video of it out there somewhere. [My lack of recording skills is starting to bother me. I might have to read a manual.] The P&T subject? The obesity epidemic; they expressed everything we've been saying about it out here in weight-loss blogland, only with much more colorful language. And naked breasts. [That should get some unusual hits!]

M@rla wrote a long and thoughtful post yesterday, about continuing to work out and eat right despite the lack of downward progress on the scale – a topic with which I'm very familiar. Some of you have weighed in – sorry – about that issue here, encouraging me, propping me up, making suggestions. Here's what she said about choosing the word 'disappointed' to describe how she feels at not experiencing further weight loss.

I can't come up with a word that expresses the frustration, rage, agony, depression, heartbreak, and despair of having worked so very hard at this, at having done everything right, and more than right, without losing a single damned pound for two years, so we're going to settle for the word "disappointed."

I've often thought she and I were twin daughters of different mothers. Except I'm older, so I guess we're not really twins. Heh.

Not that I don't always have my weight problem on my mind, but it was particularly front-and-center yesterday. M@rla's post and Penn & Teller were the bread for a sandwich filled with one of those Discovery Health programs about a woman who lost more than 400 pounds [gastric bypass] and then had surgery to take care of the loose skin problem that inevitably follows when you lose that much weight fast.

One word: Gruesome. Okay, one more: Grateful.

It was an interesting progression, first identifying with M's frustration and depression, then feeling gratitude that slow or no weight loss means surgical intervention won't be necessary, and finally laughing about the absurdity of it all.

Eat less and move more: That's the answer from doctors and magazine articles and well-meaning friends and family. And it does work for a while.

My frustration stems from the fact that I've been there. I've been at a healthy, attractive weight. I have a bag of size 6 and 8 clothes to prove it. I have pictures of myself wearing those clothes. I keep telling myself that I did it once and I should be able to do it again.

How did I do it then? I ate a very low-fat diet and I worked out hard, in a gym, for two hours every freaking day. I'm not yet at the point where I'm ready to do that again, though it might come to that, eventually. The low-fat diet was awful; my skin was dry and flaky, and I was cold all the time. The exercise wasn't so awful, and I feel like I'm almost there now, with the race training.

Which leads to the inevitable conclusion that food is still the problem. One thing is for sure: The YOU: On a Diet plan is too many calories for me.

PastaQueen commented on M@rla's blog that:

I sometimes wonder if it's been easier for me to lose the shitload of weight that I have because I never dieted before, like that saved me from having a screwed up metabolism.

First, nothing about losing half your body weight is easy, PQ. But I agree with your theory. My metabolism is just plain broken.

Knowing that doesn't mean I can quit. It means I try harder, I adapt and shift and change. And also? I hope and pray that something will work. Someday.

A request: If you leave a comment today, please don't tell me to try this or do that. Someone's already suggested it before, and I've already tried it. And especially don't tell me I need to "up my calories." A broken metabolism only knows how to do one thing with extra food – I might as well just paste it on my ass, because that's where it'll end up, eventually. Thanks.

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Edited to add: Thirty (gulp!) days until race day. Thanks for the reminder, PICAdrienne!