I hate control freaks. The kind that tries to cram their ways down your throat and make you be like them. The kind that prefers terms like African-American or Native American and then condemns those who are used to or prefer black and American Indian. Furthermore, referring to oneself as fat doesn’t mean they’re “mean” to oneself or hate oneself. It just means they’re honest and telling it like it is without any fancy words or labels. Why do so many people seem to think there’s a right and a wrong way to describe things? Whether you describe something positive as fabulous, fantastic, awesome or great doesn’t make you wrong if the guy down the street prefers sensational and the woman across town prefers incredible. Just saying, you know. No, this doesn’t have anything to do with me personally now. Just things I’ve observed in daily human interaction.

Really getting worried about my weight as I continue to have a harder and harder time controlling it. I think that before I know it, the 150s will be a thing of the past, and sadly, I’m only able to keep losing and gaining the same few pounds no matter where I am. So if I ever hit 165, I’ll never see 160 again.

Did some research and found that it doesn’t always have to do with willpower, as I’ve heard. There are so many reasons why a person can’t control their weight and it doesn’t always have to do with them being lazy or underactive. Read a little bit about genetics, the habits of parents and grandparents affecting future generations, and leptin resistance.

The question is what to do so I don’t eventually end up diabetic? There is so much information and misinformation out there that I don’t know what to believe. Obviously, sugar isn’t good, and fish is healthier than red meat. But then there are diets that encourage not only low carbs but not going low fat or overly restrictive of calories. Some things get kind of confusing. I’m torn between whether or not I should keep on trying to find a solution or totally giving up and just letting my body gain whatever it wants even if I’m eventually 200 pounds or more. Sometimes the best way to deal with a problem really is to not deal with it at all, not that I expect everyone to agree with that, of course. If I decide to give up, though, that doesn’t mean I won’t still eat healthy most of the time and keep active. It just means I’m not going to try to go really low-cal or worry if I keep gaining. I’ll just try to eat sensibly most days, keep active, and leave the rest to fate.

My GYN’s case is very discouraging. She told me she’s struggled with her weight all her life and she’s got to be close to 300 lbs. If a trained medical doctor can’t help herself, how can I? Well, if I only had a decade left to live, I wouldn’t want to. I would indulge to my heart’s content. But I don’t have just a decade. I realize that some of my weight is muscle but still… This has gotten really frustrating. So much so that yeah, I’m thinking perhaps it’s time to give up and accept myself as I am.

Damn these fucking pigs this morning! I put them in a plastic bin while I’m changing their liner and they just had to get into it. Rockefeller started it, as always. Kudos to Blitz for fighting back, though, as I’m guessing he did, based on the wad of fur in his mouth. I told Tom I really want to get rid of Rockefeller next weekend because I’ve had it with his shit. That way Blitz has more space, we don’t have to change liners as often, and the rats can have their freedom again. I’ve had to limit their freedom because of Rockefeller. But he doesn’t want to, saying he’s an animal and he is who he is.

So a woman or a man should stay with their abusive partner because they are how they are?

It got a little cute when they were finally back in the pen and separated and then I let Fuzzy visit Blitz. Blitz has never minded and he was all the more grateful for the company because Rockefeller’s such a mean, hateful asshole. He was popcorning happily as if to say, “Yay, somebody else that walks on four legs that doesn’t want to kill me!”

Fuzzy visits him regularly for a few minutes but they can’t live together as Blitz wouldn’t get much rest because Fuzzy would always want to climb all over him and clean him and all that. Plus, he would steal his food, making sure to drag it out of reach. Rats are hoarders, they’re thieves, and they’re smart.

The pigs are proof that bigger isn’t always tougher since Rockefeller isn’t quite as big as Blitz, yet he’s the one who starts the fights. But there are definitely limits. I saw a woman and a man at the store yesterday that were huge. They were taller rather than wide and I knew I could never take them in a fight no matter how pissed and determined I was.

Yesterday sucked in that I heard the woodpecker for the first time in a while and someone’s motorcycle woke me up just as I was falling asleep. Probably the guy’s son who lives across from Dixie. His name is Tom. I told Dixie she ought to tell him that this isn’t the place for that shit and that it’s loud, rude, obnoxious and unnecessary. There are plenty of other quieter means of transportation.

She said she wouldn’t tell him that because the sons live far away, motorcycles are cheaper for them, and they find it fun. That may be so but that’s the problem with this world; people always have to have fun at other people’s expense. Do they think it’s “fun” to me when I get woken up?

Then as I was falling back asleep, what goes by but a tremendously loud car stereo. I was so pissed but finally fell asleep and the son left a few hours later without waking me up. I can’t swear that was him but right now he’s the only one that I know of on the circle that visits on a motorcycle. He can’t live too far because I’m pretty sure he visits every weekend unless it’s another son of his. I guess the guy has more than one. UPS and fire trucks are one thing, but other loud vehicles should be banned from retirement communities.

She gave me a good idea, though, when she asked if we had heavy drapes. She said she first thought it was the new windows that were keeping her place quiet/warm/cool, but discovered it was the drapes because when she would pull them apart was when she would notice the weather and all that, not that her place is totally quiet. I’ve heard stuff in her place as well, though the drapes were open when I was there. It’s just not as loud, and as she said, we are on the corner. This may explain why getting new windows in the bedroom didn’t help much. Heavy drapes are something I’ll keep in mind for the next place. Until then, maybe if I get a new mattress, instead of getting rid of this one, I’ll lean it against the back window. Don’t know that it would do me much good, though. I’m simply too close to such loud sounds.

As I was saying to Tom, I don’t know if it’s wise to go to another park when we move after I thought about all the years I dreamt of being old enough to finally be able to move to one just to find that it’s the noisiest place I’ve ever lived. But where were the two quietest places I’ve ever lived even if they too, sometimes had their share of noise? Out in the country. We had some sonic booms, distant hunters, and barking in Maricopa, and then there were Jesse’s mutts in Auburn, but there’s no comparison.

It’s tough because I’m torn between a tropical place in Florida or maybe getting some land up in the Carolinas where it would be colder, but cheaper and quieter. We’re going to keep all our options open and check out everything when the time comes, but sadly, I’ve got quite a wait. Four years may not be forever but it’s long enough to make me want to beat my head in the wall if I think about just how much longer I have to deal with the traffic, planes, landscaping, and random projects sprinkled into the mix, including road work.

I was also thinking about how happy we are with our electric car, even though I only ride in it and I can honestly say that’s one more reason I’m glad Andy isn’t in my life. I would have had to hear all the negative comments and reasons why that was such a bad thing to get as I excitedly told him about it rather than him simply being happy for us. Of course, it’s always good to be looked out for and warned of potential problems, but it was just so overkill with him. He rarely had anything positive to say about much of anything and was always so pushy about things, too. He always focused on the negative aspects of things. It’s easy to do at times like when this place really gets to me, but then I remind myself that at least I’m not in Nairobi or Dharavi.

Added a smart lock to my phone so I don’t have to do the thumbprint thing every time I want to use it which should reach all the way down as far as the end of the circle. So it should still be unlocked at Dixie’s place.

I’m keeping track of how many books I’ve read this year, but the counter is kind of deceptive. It says I’ve read 6 books, but I’ve actually read 11 since one of them was a box set.