Don't call me a fat bitch!

Its Wednesday but I already feel like its Friday. This week has been hectic! I'm struggling to keep up with reading blogs and writing entries.

First off, I really want to say thanks for everyone who follows me and a big thank you to those who comment. I eagerly check after I post every entry to see what your responses might be to whatever I write and it just feels so great to know that there are people out there reading and being so amazingly supportive. If you are following me and I'm not following you and you'd like me to, please let me know. Not all of your profiles show your blog addresses.

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My last post was last Friday with the BYOC. I love those surveys! The weekend was all about keeping Noo exercised and amused so we all get a goodnight sleep at the end of the day. I've got to really think hard to even remember what we got up to! Saturday was pretty chilled. Noo and I walked around the neighbourhood til he got too tired and wanted mummy to carry him all the way home. There's lots of steep hills around here as we live right near the Harbour and I really got the heart racing and the sweat pouring off me as I carried that 13kg (29lb) bundle of joy around over my shoulders. I can't believe I nearly have twice that weight to lose to get to my goal.

Speaking of weight, it has been a terrible week so far foodwise. I pretty much have no restriction at all now. Although I do get full quicker and I have to be conscious of how I swallow, I'm hungry all the time again. I just hate that feeling of hunger! My neuro pathways in my brain are constantly tingling and sending messages elsewhere that I need something - food, a cigarette, a drink, to shop... I hate it! I never feel satisfied but at least with the early stages post surgery I wasn't hungry. Actually, I never feel like a drink any more, but I do always want to shop and eat! Next Tuesday's fill seems so long away still.

Here are my confessions for this week:

• Ate 2 pieces of Darrell Lee peanut brittle on Saturday night
• Ate 1 Darrell Lee hard centred chocolate on Saturday night
• Ate a piece of the sponge cake my mum made last night for my brother - it was filled with fresh cream and strawberries and topped with passionfruit icing
• Ate one Maccas chocolate sundae at half past midnight this morning as my sister and I were coming back from a 2 hour return trip to the hospital to see my dad after he had an accident with a circular saw (long story)
• Ate three mouthfuls of a brownie this morning that I supposedly bought for Noo but subconsciously I think I bought it for me. I felt so guilty eating it I brought most of it home and gave it to mum to finish

Does anyone know how many Weight Watchers points 1000 calories is equal to? I'm hopeless at counting calories but I pretty much have memorised the WW points book. I think I really need to start writing a food diary again to keep track of the food I'm eating, especially when I get my first fill next week.

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Yesterday morning as I was driving to TAFE I experienced a very nasty road rage incident. Without boring you with detail, this guy came flying past me from behind yelling abuse at me as he passed, calling me a "fat bitch". I could not believe it! I was in the right! I was so upset about it that for seconds I gripped onto the steering wheel replaying the incident over in my head trying to work out why I was so pissed off. I was trembling with rage! Was it the injustice of being abused when I was in the right or was it being called a fat bitch for the first time since high school (that I can remember)? These thoughts went over in my head in a matter of seconds as I sat there in peak hour traffic trying to get down one of the busiest streets in the Sydney CBD. After seconds passed, I thought this fucker ain't getting away with abusing me!

He got in my lane just ahead of me and drove off as I had to stop to let a car from the on coming traffic turn right in front of me to drive into a parking station (for US readers remember we Aussies drive on the left side of the road). As soon as I could I was off in pursuit of this raging lunatic who dared called me names. It was lucky that the lane was free so I could put my foot on the accelerator to fly down two blocks to catch up with him. I changed into the lane to his right and put my foot on the brake so I was just inline with his drivers side window and hurled the most unladylike abuse at him while giving him the middle finger. He didn't even have the courage to look at me. The adrenalin was pumping through me as I drove off only to be met with a red light.

Next thing I knew he was changing lanes to be right behind me and I made sure that all the doors were locked as he put his brakes on and opened his car door, making as if he was going to get out. I started to panic willing the light to change to green but I stood my ground and did not move. He never got out of the car and as soon as the light changed I was off, losing him at the next intersection. 

Oh my god! I was buzzing all day from the experience! I've NEVER behaved like that on the road ever! But something clicked in me out there in those seconds proceeding him calling me a fat bitch. It was like I had to chase that mofo and give him a piece of my mind for me and all the women out there who've ever been labeled such a hideous name. In those first seconds of the incident I felt horrible and unworthy but after I got him back I felt triumphant and powerful. I know aggression and violence are not acceptable ever, but god, it felt good.

I hope it never happens again but should any man every dare to call me a fat bitch again, watch out! I'll come back and get ya!

V.