Number Crunching

Today I'm going to crap on about numbers. Woo.

I just got back from the gym where I had a fitness re-assessment. This means you get weighed again and poked and prodded and they re-jig your program.

I was slightly crushed coz Allison, my previous Fitness Chick, had gone overseas. This meant I had to have a new Fitness Chick, Cathy, who didn't know my whole sordid story and how grossly unfit I was last October when I joined the gym. She didn't know my struggles! My tale of woe! Because, dammit, I'm only in this weight loss caper for the fame and the adoration, so people can be amazed by my fantastical transformation from pork queen to svelte sex pot!

Note the gentle caress of sarcasm. Please don't email me and tell me I have the wrong motivations, blah blah blah. But come on, who doesn't get off on the "how did you lose so much weight?" and "oh my god i didn't recognise you!" and the "you are SO damn foxy these days, let us shag RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW" kind of talk? Be honest.

Anyway. The good thing about Allison was she was blown away last re-assessment coz I'd lost 17 kilos (37lb) from Oct 2000 (when I joined the gym) to early May (when the re-assessment was). What she didn't realise was that from that October to mid-January 2001, I had actually gained 15.2kg (33.5lb)! I didn't start losing until mid-January. So I had actually lost quite a bit more than she thought.

(But I didn't tell her that. Why would you tell someone that you gained 33.5 lb in just three and a half months!? I mean, good lord. That is an incredible feat of calorie scoffing. I still don't know how I did it. Oh actually I do know how I did it. I neglected that gym membership and spent the whole summer parked on the couch, moaning about the heat. Then came the Extra Large Quarter Pounder Value Meals 3 or 4 times a week. Family blocks of chocolate. Trifle. Lasagna. It was one long binge. I don't think I've written enough in here about just how badly I ate before. Now that I look back it scares me. I ate so bloody much. But that's another entry.)

Anyway, Fitness Chick Cathy was nice. I hopped on the scale and it said 121kg. Hurrah! Three months ago when I was last reassessed, it was 127.5 kg, so that's 6.5kg more gone.

If you're a mad keen follower of my progress chart you'll note that 121 kg is way below the weight on the progress chart. This is because the gym scales are about 5 kilos lighter. Ya gotta love scales like that. Anyway, since I joined the gym last October I've lost 23 kilos according to the gym scales. Which is about ten kilos less than what I've lost at WW since January 15.

Are you confused? So you should be. I know I am.

The summary is: there's two ways you could tell my weight loss story. You could either say I've lost 23 kilos since October 2000, or you could say I've lost 33 kilos since January 2001 and ignore the whole Summer 2001: Endless Binge episode. Hmm, I think I know which story I prefer.

I know the more I get into this caper, the harder it will be for results to show on the scale. So I got Cathy to take my measurements:

Tricep: huge
Bicep: huge
Bust: Hello Dolly
Waist: comparable to the circumference of Jupiter
Hips: huge
Thighs: elephantine
Calf: baby elephantine

I'm not going to share those numbers with you. Urgh. Anyway, I got a new program. I need to go about 4-5 times a week now.

(I went five times last week! God I felt fantastic! My shoulder wasn't hurting at all. I strutted round the gym feeling damn smug and fit-like, until I tripped over some dumbells or looked in the mirror at my voluminous stomach and got all pouty again.)

I marvel at my ability to swing from loving to hating my body in mere seconds. I can be swishing around on the cross-trainer and thinking, "Hey my legs look smaller" then a minute later, look at my upper body and swear that my stomach has gotten bigger. So I stop swishing and smooth my t-shirt down to see if that makes it look any better, and if it doesn't I start crying on the inside, oh god I'm never going to shift this lard.

You have to prepare yourself for these mood swings. Like last week, when I gained half a kilo at WW, I had to come up with some other way of reassuring myself that I was still losing, otherwise I'd have plunged into a moody little funk. So I get out my grey pants that three months ago were skin tight, and admire how they are now baggy as hell round the waist and I have to yoink them right up over my navel like an old man just so they'll stay up. Or I'll go to the gym and count how many levels of cross-trainer I can now do compared with before, or how much quicker I can do a kilometre on the treadmill than before.

I have a Year Planner chart in the back of my work diary with a little box for each day. I've been writing my weigh-in results in there every week. Then I calculate how much I've lost per month. If a particular month's figure depresses me, I'll draw up little graphs of how long it's taking me to lose a 5 kilo block. Then I calculate averages, and based on those averages I get projections and I can forecast how long it should take me to reach my goal weight.

I'm always devising new ways to obsess about my weight loss capers. If I don't like my weigh-in result tonight, I assure you I can manipulate the data and spit out something that will make me feel better.

Just recently I realised how ridiculous all this number crunching is. My projections were based on an average loss of 3-4 kilos (6.6-8.8lbs) per month. Now that is just plain unrealistic. Fair enough for the first few months when I was blasting off the top o most layer of lard, but from now on it's going to be a lot harder. Plus all the muscle building will slow down the scale a bit.

Then there's the matter of the goal weight I set for myself – 69 kilos (152lb). I haven't weight that little since I was 13 years old. I just chose 69kg coz it's under 70kg therefore in my warped little mind it sounded skinnier. What the hell does the number matter anyway? And why am I even thinking about goal weights when I am soooooooo ridiculously far away from them?

Coz I'm obsessive and I love to quantify my achievements, I guess. Anyway, 75kg (165lb) is much more realistic. We'll see. I think I'll know when I look how I want to look. I'm not going to bust my arse to a tiny number, just to get that crappy little WW Lifetime Member pin.

Anyway. I can't promise that I'll stop obsessing about the numbers, but I will try and be a little more realistic. I promise not to hiss and spit at the WW weigh-in lady if I don't like the scale tonight.

In other news, I've nearly finished replying to all your emails. Thanks again for being patient and just so bloody brilliant! I've gotten some very inspirational stuff.

Bored? You must go to Pound. I only found her the other day and I had to go back and read her entire archive. I laughed my arse off but also very nearly cried at some of her writing. She can be scorchingly funny then underneath you often leave with this achy kind of feeling. So insightful and honest and just plain brilliant reading. Go forth!

Back tomorrow with the WW post mortem.

Runs With Puppy Dogs

This is what you get for writing long, rambling entries about what a champion weight loss supastar you are, being so smug and wise. It is now a few hours before my weigh-in and I feel like a total PORK.

Sometimes you can just feel it in your bones that you're headed for a non-pleasant rendevous with the scales. Right now my ovaries are starting their monthly rat-a-tatting, it's the dreaded Week Before where I am a moody shit and want to make love to a family block of Cadbury's Dairy Milk.

And surely it's not water I'm retaining. It feels like wet cement. So be prepared for an onslaught of Cranky Dietgirl entries over the next little while.

Of course I am not one to blame my problems on my women's troubles. That's what contributed to me nicking off from many a dieter's forum online, I got sick of people reading memebers blame everything on "T.O.M." or "Aunt Flo" or "The Great Red Sea Of Hell" (I made that last one up). Fair enough you can expect to gain a little then but too many of them seem to use it as excuse to not exercise or eat a pound of peanut butter. For me, exercise really helps. The aching muscles after a good workout ensure you don't notice the pirahnas gnashing away in your womb half as much!

Anyway. I don't dig those online forums. Too many silly abbreviations. OP=on program. TOM=time of month. FF=fat free. LF=low fat. ALILNAWDWBC=ate a litre of icecream last night and washed it down with a bucket of chocolates. Etcetera.

I am also cranky because I haven't done enough exercise. I was SO fired up at the beginning of the week after the great loss on Monday and an inspiring new copy of Slimming magazine (I am so going to be in that magazine someday! Just you wait. Slimmer of the Year 2003). I was all ready to start some light weight training and step up the cardio a bit, but my stupid injury reared it's ugly head. I have some screwy bits of back and shoulder thanks the Korean Sweatshop I work in, or should I say Prestigious Web Company, from rather repetitive work. I am having physiotherapy for it and thought it was improving. The physio was pleased with my weight-loss and exercise regime, but told me I needed to build some muscle, and in particular get some strength in my back. She told me to keep up with the rowing machine and showed me some exercises to do with free weights. I should have known better, really, because on Friday I couldn't even lift my coffee cup, my shoulder/arm/wrist hurt so severely. On Saturday I thought it felt a bit better so I got the most teeeeeeeny tiny one kilogram weights and attempted the exercise. AAAAAAARGH! I felt like my arm was being ripped from the socket. I almost cried.

On Sunday (yesterday) I couldn't even hold onto the arms of the cross-trainer machine with my right hand, it's not at all strenuous, but with the gammy shoulder it was hell. I ended up doing some light stretches and my sister showed me some easy moves from her Pilates class.

But I was CRANKY! So cranky, I tells ya. Why? Because I am FINALLY getting my health in order and I am just RARING to go! I desperately want to step up my exercise and  just simply can't bloody do it at the moment because of my STUPID arm. It sucks that sitting on my arse at work ended up getting me injured. Sigh. Heal! Heal, you damn body!!!

It's amazing how I am just craving to do more. Last night I was out walking the dog, very awkwardly as I had to hold the leash in my left hand. It was right on dark, about 5.45pm, very quiet on the streets. Suddenly I just got this overwhelming urge to run. So I gallumphed down a slight hill. I lasted about 20 seconds before I started coughing and sputtering. Classy. But I felt a little rush and had a sudden spring in my step. The dog went crazy, bouncing up and down, probably because it was the most vigorous activity he'd ever seen from me.

We went around the corner and I decided to head back as it was a bit too scary and dark to stay out. Near the top of the hill I stopped, squinted in the blackness to see if anyone was around. Nope. So I said to the dog, "Let's go, boy!" and started jogging up the hill. That felt a bit too jerky, so I sped up until I was full on running! It felt fantastic! I felt like I was flying! I felt so alive! I had a huge grin on my gob. The dog barked happily and I raised my hands in the air and cheered as if I was bursting through the tape in the 100 metres final. But finally my big lump of a body had had enough and I stopped, breathing hard. Then I looked around to see how far I'd jogged. About 20 bloody metres.

Oh well. Ya gotta start somewhere.

Fat Free Frying

First things first. Was reading a journal today and saw this "Lunch: taco salad w/ 1 c FF refried beans".

How the hell can you have fat free re-fried beans? Even if these beans are not actually fried, what the hell addivtives, chemicals, whatevers, must be in there to make it seem like they're regular ol' refried beans?

Freaky.

The Open Diary is a place on the net I once spent a lot of time at before the chronic angst of the place got me down. They have things called "Diary Circles," which is a basically a big catalogue of dysfunction and all the various freaks flock together.

One of the circles is called the Fitness And Weight Loss Circle, with dozens of diaries from dieters all over the planet. Here's a few excerpts of their sparkling prose:

"Temptation everywhere – I am but flesh – battling on, there is no end only standing still or creeping forward."  (oh for crying out loud!)

"What is this diet? Ill try anything! E-mail me at Devilbaby4u@hotmail.com! I am trying to loose weight so i can get back to school but nothin is working for me! I need to loose it fast! PLEASE E-MAIL ME!"

"I ate a bag of jelly beans. By the way, are jelly beans packed with calories?? I'm pretty sure they're fat free… but they must be full of sugar!"

"Now there is dieting..I set here and think is this really for me…OR is it just to please others??? I want to be beautiful and I want to be thin…but what to I have to sacrifice to get there?"

Is it just me or do all these just smack of desperation, drama and denial? (Oh gosh, I love alliteration) Every entry I read, they all talk about their struggle with the evil chocolate bars, the perils of exercise, the hardhips of drinking water, the mind-frying mathematics of calorie counting, and which fad diet should we try today? They make it sound oh so difficult that you'd think they were actually trying to hike up Mount Everest. With no shoes on. Blindfolded. With Sherpas flogging them with icepicks as they went.

Here's the poop: it's not like climbing a mountain. The more I progress with my own weight loss caper, the more I realise how simple it is. The more I realise there is no need to think your way into a monumentous unattainable task.

Back in primary school we had a class called Health. They got out the Healthy Food Pyramid. Eat lots of fruit and vegies and grains, it said, go easy on the other stuff. Moderation is the key. Then get outside and run round and get some exercise.

Then you get older and you start reading Cosmopolitan and feel inadequate or you buy some Diet Coke or your mother drags you to Weight Watchers and suddenly it's all become very complicated! There's calories and points and weight/height charts and special shakes and self-esteem issues.

We make weight such a big drama. We make it all seem so difficult. We turn it into a struggle of epic proportions. We get all depressed and overwhelmed. We end up getting fatter than ever. Please don't spank me and call me an anti-feminist or whatnot, but I do think this can be a partucular problem for women. We're emotional and have a habit of letting things build up in our minds til the issue is stretched out of proportion. Whereas the men I know that have lost weight, they seem to just flip a switch in their mind and start doing healthy things, like cutting out junk food or doing some exercise. Just like that. Without the need for classes or pills or whatnot. Why do you think that is?

This could be just a DIETGIRL thing, rather than a universal thing, so don't shoot me down in flames. I am just speaking from my own experience and the experience of overweight women I have known. I know I've had Issues™ with food, some crippling depression and emotional problems, blah blah blah, but that's another entry altogether. Let me tell you though, those Issues™ seem to vanish if you can just make yourself sit up and realise HOW SIMPLE IT REALLY IS.

Make your mind go back to kindergarten. Toss all the complications out of your mind. Strip away all your excuses. Then what's left is this ka-ching! moment when you realise  it's really quite easy to lose weight. You knew all along, but it's not so easy to admit how simple it really is. You don't need to pay for classes or special food. You just need to stop buying the crappy food, make healthy choices, and get out and shake your booty! Just like your Health teacher told you all those years ago!

Except she may not have used the word booty.

Granted, I do go to Weight Watchers, yes. But I don't stay back for the meetings and I very rarely count points. I go there because at 350lb, I was way too big for the scales at home. Plus I like the Monday weigh-in, I need the regular feedback. That's it. I credit my loss so far to my hard work, rather than the WW program.

So all I have to say is, keep it simple, stupid. Has freaking over calories and popping pills ever brought you anything but misery and more porkage? If not, good for you, but if so, why not try the simple mode and see how you go. Stop looking for complications where there just aren't any.

Goals Goals Goals

Well darned if I don't feel pretty happy lately. After this weeks 1.1 kg (2.4lb) loss, I now have 49.5 kg to go to the top of my WW goal range. It's just lovely to have it under 50 kilos to go. It sounds much nicer. Sure, it's still Bloody Huge in the scheme of things, in Slimming magazine the average weight loss success story has lost about 20-30 kilos, so I am still the big pork. But hey! Six months ago I had 83.2 kilos to go! That was the most miserable day of my life. I still can't believe how I sobbed and sobbed while standing there on the scales, with a nice crowd watching. Woo.

My secret ambition (well, just between me and you readers, right.) is to reach the top of that goal range by my 25th birthday. That's November 2002. Do you think I can do it? Bloody hell, I think I can. I want it soooo badly. I want to have a big party and wear a slinky dress and get tipsy and dance on tables and french-kiss all my guests.

Yes, that's right! Kiss them all! You may not know that I am quite a lusty dame. Big girls need kissing too, y'know.

Which brings me to the whole point of this entry, which is There's More To Me Than Fat. It's the funny thing about weight loss journals on the web, you often get so caught up in reading about the person's measurements and carrot sticks and calorie burning that you forget that they have other things in their life besides their weight loss travels. Don't you ever wonder what else they get up to? What their hopes and dreams are?

I think this is not only the case online. In the everyday world, fat people's real feelings and personalities are often overlooked. Perhaps this is just my defensive side coming out here, but sometimes I get the impression that some people see Lobotomized Lump of Lard when they see me, and not Interesting Funny Girl With Intelligence And Real Feelings Just Like You. Maybe you're reading this and you're overweight, and you've seen that dismissive, blank look in someone's eye when they serve you in a store or see you at work, it's like they're thinking, "Oh there's Dietgirl, That Fat Chick", and they just think of you as the fat one, rather than any of your other qualities.

Am I being paranoid? Really now. It's just a feeling I often get.

Either way, there's more to me than being overweight and flinging myself around in order to get healthier. What else can I tell you? I'm tall. I love old movies. I have a great job but I don't enjoy it that much. I have two sisters and a brother. I'm addicted to Shape magazine. I have red hair. I love Radiohead. And a bazillion other bands that I'm too lazy to type out. I hate crowds. My car really needs a wash. I love to write. I have another site on the web that gets about 300 hits a day and only one of those people knows about Dietgirl. I hate coca-cola. I make great caramels. I want to be a UN volunteer. I wish I could sing. I have brown eyes. I'm suddenly realising that this list is not very interesting therefore I must not be that interesting. I want to go to Russia and see Lenin in his tomb. I love books and I buy a lot of old Penguins just for the retro covers. I feel guilty a lot coz I am slack with keeping in touch with friends and family. I'm very self-sufficient but damn, I'd like a man. I don't hold my pencil properly. I'm currently reading In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, my fifth attempt at it. I'm incredibly lazy about housework. I hate shopping. I have big, big plans for my life.

Hmmm, that'll do for now. Just wanted you to know there's more to me than this weight loss caper.

But DAMN, I want to wear a slinky dress! There's a shop beside our gym with swanky gowns and I press my nose to the glass and slobber enviously wishing I could get into one of them. All in good time, my friends. All in good time.

Let Them Eat Toast

Six months, woo ahh! That’s how long I’ve been on this new me thingy, that’s how long I’ve been cavorting around at the gym, twenty six Monday’s in a row I’ve plopped my pork onto the WW scales, etc.

I won’t go into another boring recap of my glorious achievements in this time, rather I will toss a few new goals your way for the next six months:

  1. Drink water! Damn, you’ve been terribly lazy in that respect. It was no problem during summer but winter, I am lucky if I swallow a nip of it while I clean my teeth.
  2. Don’t eat too much. I am still being healthy but I feel I am eating too much. In winter time, I have a thing for toast. I ate no less than ten pieces of it all up yesterday. Two for brekkie, 2 for sustainence before I went to the gym, 2 when I got home from the gym, 2 with my lentil soup for dinner, 2 for the Post Big Brother-I-can’t-believe-they-evicted-Sara-Marie Depression. I have no butter or marg on this toast, except if it’s Vegemite and then I have a scraping coz you can’t have Vege toast without butter, it’s awful — but overall, that is still waHAY to much toast! Good lord.
  3. Step up the exercise. I know I can do four times a week at the gym. I still have gazillions of kilos to lose, and I need to step it up if I want it to keep coming off.
  4. Get suited. I want my size 20 lovely suit to fit me, in fact I want it to be on the verge of being too big, by CHRISTMAS. Ho ho ho.
  5. Stay positive. I’ve come a long way since January, but I am still prone to paranoia and crippling bouts of "you suck!" thoughts. So I will keep training my mind to think otherwise.

Weigh-in tonight. I’ll be sure to write tomorrow and let you know how it went.

Love Your Vehicle

Guess what? Someone finally noticed!

Crikey, and it’s only been nearly six months. I went home to see the folks this weekend. First I saw Mum, who knows I’ve been on this health kick, but hadn’t seen me for two months. She’s the kind of woman who never shuts up, so it was amusing to see her standing on at the gate with her mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish. "Uh.. ooh… hmmm… uh.. uhh.. look at you!". She went on and on for ten minutes before she even noticed I’d got a haircut and foxy blonde streaks. Then coz she knew I’d reached the 30 kilo mark, she gave me huge bunch of flowers – white daisies with bright red and orange gerberas – to celebrate. She really has been so supportive. I love her to bits. It’s amazing how our relationship has changed over the years.

Then I went and visited my grandmother. She’s the kind of lady that doesn’t dish out compliments unless they’re really deserved. So when she said to me, "Helloooo, somebody’s lost some weight!", I grinned madly. FINALLY someone who didn’t know about my efforts ACTUALLY NOTICED! It was brilliant!

This morning I am pleased to report that the snugly fitting pants Mum gave me on my last trip home (the beginning of May) are now floating round my waist. I have to pull them up a good couple of inches above my belly button so they stay up. Woohoo!

Watched two TV shows this weekend that really got me thinking. The first was a British show that follows round some overweight folks and their struggles to lose weight. I use that evil word struggle because that’s what most of those people seemed to be doing. To me they just didn’t seem to be in that ZONE, that state of mind you reach where you quit making excuses and just start putting in the effort. Also, I was alarmed by the lack of support these people had. One big guy’s wife would roll her eyes at him and tell the camera that he "hadn’t been very good" and didn’t think he’d lose anything. How rude! A little love and support from her would have went a long way.

Another guy was REALLY big, at least 400lb I’d say. He was a really sweetie and very determined to lose his extra weight. He’d made a big decision to have surgery to reduce the size of his stomach, so desperate was he for results. He was full of determination and optimism when he went under the knife. He came out okay, but two days later he died of a massive blood clot.

He died! I couldn’t believe it!

I had this really sick feeling in my stomach after that. It hit me hard that being overweight can kill you. I know he had that surgery and it was risky, but he was so desperate that he thought it was his only chance. Just six months ago I was gaining weight so rapidly, I could have been heading for that stage. I know my health was at risk. I’m so glad I reached that point to say "enough is enough". He wasn’t even that old, he had a wife and kids, and he died.

The thought of that happening to me is terrifying. And to think I came so close, I really was out of control. I felt like I wasn’t in charge of my life one little bit. But now, oh wow. I have plans, people. I have things I want to do, places I want to see, and I am going to be healthy enough to do it all.

The second show was called Good Girls Do Swallow, a TV special by this wonderful woman who wrote a book with the same name. It was all about women and body image. I felt so good after watching it, I wish I could hug that woman and tell her what a champion she is.

The blurb about the book goes like this:

"Between the ages of 17 and 31, Rachael Oakes-Ash lost 63kg and gained 76kg on a roller-coaster of body image problems and food obsession. She went through anorexia, bulimia, bulimarexia, gym mania, strict dieting and binge eating before she finally figured out how to stop torturing herself and hating her body."

I’m sure oodles of women can relate to that. Just about all of them. Have you ever had a female friend that has never been on a diet, whined about her body, etc etc? I don’t know a single one, personally. Anyway, I think I heard this Rachael chick say on the show that’s she’s now a size 16 (US size 14) and doesn’t diet anymore. She looks just fabulous and oozes charm and sassiness and just looks nice and comfy with herself. How brilliant is that?

The show had a lot of women who’d had eating disorders. It was horrible to hear them talk about how poorly they thought of themselves. One girl even told herself she was worse than Hitler or Mussolini. Good lord.

I really don’t think there’s much difference between obesity and anorexia, except for a helluva lot of pounds. All the extreme feelings they had about themselves, I felt as an obese person. It’s sad and disturbing how much time we waste being obsessed with our body image and hating ourselves. It’s exhausting! It’s pointless! Why do we do it?

I’m not saying I don’t do that anymore. If you look back through my archives you’ll probably notice a nice pattern where once a month I seem to be totally doom and gloom about myself an my body. I don’t think there’s any avoiding that. It’s hard to feel good about yourself when it feels like someone’s taken a jackhammer to your ovaries!

But for the large part, I totally dig myself these days. Like, totally, whatever. Hehehe.

While this show was saying you should accept yourself no matter what your size, I think you can apply that philosophy to weight loss. For the sake of my health, I really do need to lose weight, I am very overweight for my height. But that does not mean I should not be happy and proud of my body RIGHT NOW.

I’m a size 24 going on 22, I am still 52 kilos + overweight, but I’m okay! I don’t think of this caper in terms of Losing Weight any more. It’s now about Feeling Good About Me. I have wasted so many years of my life telling myself how fat and ugly and useless I was, and where did it get me? Nowhere. "You’re so right, brain!" I would reply. "I’m doomed, therefore I will eat two Quarter Pounders and a family block of chocolate!"

The more I started thinking good things about myself, and the more I stopped thinking Food Is The Enemy, the easier this whole caper became. It’s really that simple. If I want to eat half a cheesecake, all I do know is think, "Is that going to make me feel good? No really. Think about it." and for the most part I realise, No, I am going to feel like a whale, a whole pod of whales stapled together in fact. So I don’t eat it. Or perhaps I will have just a small piece instead. If I do, I won’t punish myself for doing it. Food’s great, y’know? I just don’t go crazy about it anymore.

You have but one body, people, so you gotta treat it well. It’s the vehicle that carries round your brain, the brain that carries round those bad, bad thoughts about yourself. Train your brain to think nice, nice thoughts about yourself. You have to learn to love your vehicle. Food is just the fuel to keep it going, it’s not an evil demon that you need to struggle with. And don’t worry about other vehicles with better looking paint-jobs or smoother bodies. Love your vehicle as it is RIGHT NOW, spare tyres and all. Next thing you know your vehicle’s looking good, and you feel fantastic. You are cruising down the highway of life, and you are by-passing all the McDonalds drive-thrus.

(Damn. That’s an overloaded analogy if I ever heard one.)