So, as Hubs and I have increased our stamina and fitness, we decided to up the intensity of our workouts. Hubs did P90X a few years ago and was some kinda buff. Then he got the flu, took a week off and that was all she wrote. He held on to the DVDs though, so when discussing our exercises he suggested we start using the Ab Ripper X workout every other day to help prepare ourselves for when we jump into the full P90X workout schedule. Of course I thought it was a brilliant idea. We could continue to improve our fitness and throw in some intense ab workouts to better prepare for the next step. I have been feeling super enthusiastic about my workouts, and I know I have gained stamina, strength and endurance. Surely I was ready for a 15-minute ab workout. Should be no problem, right?
Wrong. So, so wrong.
The P90X guy, Tony Horton, is super fit. Like Chuck Norris before his Walker, Texas Ranger days. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. Like Sly Stallone in Rocky. You know, FIT. He's also really enthusiastic. He talks a lot. Like, a whole lot. Although his words are that of encouragement, you can't help but get pissed when you're sweating like a pig, out of breath trying to do the 117th variation of a sit up and this guy is Chatty Kathy-ing it up about spandex or feeling good or something (I'm not entirely sure, I wasn't listening. I was trying not to think about the remaining seven minutes in the workout).
I won't lie, I feel like a beast after completing the workout. But it HURTS. LIKE. HELL. My abs were so sore the next day that I could have cried. I did it again on the second assigned night and it was just as torturous as the first time. My abs weren't quite as angry at me the day after that, though, so I'm hopeful that after I fight through it tonight my abs will have adjusted and be able to forgive me.
All in the name of being fit and sexy.
Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts
August 15, 2013
March 28, 2012
1st Milestone
I did it. I hit my first milestone.
THIRTY POUNDS.
3-0
The big three-and-oh.
I'm beyond proud of myself, but at the same time I'm still in a bit of shock. I have set weight loss goals for myself many, many times over the past 15 years. Never once have I ever met any of them. Even when I went smaller with 15- or 20-pound goals, I could only manage 10 or 12 before giving up and going back to my old habits.
For the first time, I've actually made it to the first milestone. I feel like I should throw myself a party.
I still have 103 pounds to go, which is three more 30lb milestones and a last one of 13. After hitting this first mark, though, I am so confident that I can hit the rest of them, one at a time, until at last, for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE, I will be at my "ideal" body weight. Not only that, I'll be healthy and fit and not have to worry about all of the health problems that come with obesity anymore. What a day that will be!
Don't ever think you can't do it, guys. You can do ANYTHING!
THIRTY POUNDS.
The big three-and-oh.
That's six 5lb bags of sugar.
 |
| meijer.com |
120 quarter pounders.
 |
| monacome.com |
10 cans of Crisco oil
 |
| preparednessadvice.com |
4 gallons of water
 |
| mistymountainspringwater.com |
120 sticks of butter
 |
| dabbledabbledo.blogspot.com |
20 dozen eggs
 |
| dreamstime.com |
A 32-inch flat screen tv
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| fareastgizmos.com |
I'm beyond proud of myself, but at the same time I'm still in a bit of shock. I have set weight loss goals for myself many, many times over the past 15 years. Never once have I ever met any of them. Even when I went smaller with 15- or 20-pound goals, I could only manage 10 or 12 before giving up and going back to my old habits.
For the first time, I've actually made it to the first milestone. I feel like I should throw myself a party.
I still have 103 pounds to go, which is three more 30lb milestones and a last one of 13. After hitting this first mark, though, I am so confident that I can hit the rest of them, one at a time, until at last, for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE, I will be at my "ideal" body weight. Not only that, I'll be healthy and fit and not have to worry about all of the health problems that come with obesity anymore. What a day that will be!
Don't ever think you can't do it, guys. You can do ANYTHING!
March 14, 2012
Biggest Fears
Yesterday I was listening to Kidd Kraddick in the Morning while driving to school. They were discussing their biggest fears, and each person on the show had to take a turn. Kellie's is being fired. JC's is doctors. Big Al's is disappointing his parents. Kidd's is the triangle of death - he wouldn't give his actual fear. Jenna's is dying in a plane crash. Then they got to Shannon, the quiet chick who keeps them on schedule and is rarely heard on the show. Her biggest fear: getting fat.
When she said it I immediately got angry. It was self-defense mode, I'm sure, to react that way. I'm like that with many things. If somebody makes a fat joke in general, I get angry. If an overweight person is discriminated against or made fun of on TV or in a movie, I get angry. I know this is more about my own self esteem issues than anything, but that does not make it any less wrong to use an obese person as the brunt of a joke or as a good story line.
I started ranting and raving in my car, to no one in particular, about how insensitive people are, and Oh, you're SO terrified of gaining weight, honey, you should try being overweight for most of your life and being unable to LOSE weight. I'll admit, I had a small pity party going on in the midst of that rant.
After thinking about it for a while, though, I realized her fear isn't all that shocking. If I were forced to examine my own fears, one of my biggest fears is that I'll always be fat. Isn't all that different from Shannon's fear, is it?
Even as I'm on this journey, working hard to eat the right foods, smaller portions, exercise, be healthy, in the back of my mind is this nagging voice that says don't bother with all of this, it's too hard. You'll always be fat. Just accept it. Granted, that voice is getting smaller and smaller - I contribute that to my success thus far and the wonderful support I get from my family, friends and blogging buds.
They say you should face your fears. If my fear is being fat forever, then I need to face it and shut that fear up by proving it wrong.
When she said it I immediately got angry. It was self-defense mode, I'm sure, to react that way. I'm like that with many things. If somebody makes a fat joke in general, I get angry. If an overweight person is discriminated against or made fun of on TV or in a movie, I get angry. I know this is more about my own self esteem issues than anything, but that does not make it any less wrong to use an obese person as the brunt of a joke or as a good story line.
I started ranting and raving in my car, to no one in particular, about how insensitive people are, and Oh, you're SO terrified of gaining weight, honey, you should try being overweight for most of your life and being unable to LOSE weight. I'll admit, I had a small pity party going on in the midst of that rant.
After thinking about it for a while, though, I realized her fear isn't all that shocking. If I were forced to examine my own fears, one of my biggest fears is that I'll always be fat. Isn't all that different from Shannon's fear, is it?
Even as I'm on this journey, working hard to eat the right foods, smaller portions, exercise, be healthy, in the back of my mind is this nagging voice that says don't bother with all of this, it's too hard. You'll always be fat. Just accept it. Granted, that voice is getting smaller and smaller - I contribute that to my success thus far and the wonderful support I get from my family, friends and blogging buds.
They say you should face your fears. If my fear is being fat forever, then I need to face it and shut that fear up by proving it wrong.
January 13, 2012
Feel the Burn! OR No pain, no gain.
Can we talk seriously about exercise for a sec? Yes, it's great for you and makes your heart strong, blah blah blah. But really, have you ever stopped to consider the number of exercises available to the average person nowadays? Strength training, cardio, cycling, walking, dancing, running, tennis, football, basketball, soccer, baseball/softball, badminton (ha), polo, etc....on and on the list goes of possible ways one can try to burn calories, kill fat and get fit. I think all of these are great ways to get in shape - except for badminton and tennis, because one is stupid and I'm not coordinated enough for the other. Not all exercises are compatible with everyone. People generally pick a certain type of exercise and stick with it until the bitter end (which usually happens on a couch with a bag of Cheetos).
Being the eternal fat girl, I have tried out MANY different types of exercise routines in the constant effort to slim down. Obviously, none so far have been successful for me because I had no willpower whatsoever. Until now, which is another story (and a much happier one, so far). I decided I would share with you guys a few different exercises I have tried over the years, and a brief summary of each. This should be fun.
Tae Bo
Yes, we've all heard of Billy Banks and his band of super-fit followers who manage to grin whilst beating the hell out of invisible attackers. I tried this workout around age 16 with my mom, some of my friends and some of her friends. We figured it was a double win because it's cardio AND self-defense lessons. Right.
The first few times we did it we were pumped up, and thought hey, this isn't so bad. Just some punches and kicks and lots of "Ya!"ing. I felt like Chuck Norris: Badass. I knew I could beat the hell out of any predator who dared cross my chubby path.
Unfortunately this was in the day of the video cassette (yes, I'm THAT old) and the tape wore out after about a month. What a rip-off. By then the old ladies were complaining of aching hips and backs and since my mom was my ride that ended my routine.
So, let's not blame Billy for my failure on this one. We'll blame my mother.
Curves for Women
For those of you who've never checked out one of these fat female havens, I'll explain the setup:
There's a circuit of machines with little bouncy pad things in between each machine. The machines are designed to work out different areas of the body - legs, arms, abs, butt, etc. You spend 30 seconds on each machine, then a little bell dings and you shift to the bouncy pad and dance/walk/jog in place until the bell dings again and you shift to the next machine. Three rotations equals a 30-minute "full-body workout" (their words, not mine).
My freshman year in college I decided I'd try out Curves because one of my aunts went there and gushed repeatedly about how much weight she'd lost and how fit she was getting. She was also doing the Atkins diet at the time so I'm not sure which contributed more. I was at a very insecure age; being 19 and fat is not fun for anyone. I figured Curves would be great because I could be dedicated to a gym but not have to worry about being self-conscious. It's all chicks. No dudes allowed.
I joined and went in, did the circuits correctly, bounced on the bouncy thing actively, and did lose about 10 pounds in a month. After a while though, I got to where I didn't feel like I was getting adequate workout for each area of my body, and while 30 seconds wasn't long enough for me, it's not allowed to remain at one machine repeatedly because it hinders the flow. Also, as I've mentioned previously, the music was horrendous. Cheesy remake of old dance music sung by Spanish tone-deaf dude. AWFUL. Give me Pantera, Aerosmith, something loud and mean to work out to. So, that endeavor failed after the one-month trial. Adios, Curves. I'll take mine with me, thanks.
Pussycat Dolls Workout Video
It's okay, laugh it out. I'll give you a minute.
...
....
.....
......
I know. I was in Walmart one day and had recently started yet another fad diet and thought I might try some new workouts. I moseyed on over to the fitness area (what a joke. There are more orange hunting vests than exercise items in my Walmart) to peruse the dozen or so exercise videos available. Immediately the PCD Workout Video caught my eye. I know they're hoes, but you've gotta admit, they're HOT. I can be hot, I thought to myself. I quickly envisioned myself all svelte and sexy, doing PCD dances for my husband. I threw the DVD in my cart and bought it before I could talk myself out of it.
I only attempted this workout one time. Just once. Wanna know why?
Fat should not, and will not, move the way they think it can in that video.
I started out okay, swaying my hips and thrusting (oh my God, I can't believe I'm sharing this with you people) over and over again as Nicole Scherzinger encouraged me with her sultry voice and smoky eyes (Side note: who wears layers of makeup to workout? Seriously!). Soon, though, they started with the REALLY sexy dance moves. Let me just say that fat is mostly sedentary, and if you get it all moving too fast, it builds momentum. I looked like a Jell-O commercial. A bad one. Eventually I just collapsed to the floor, dejected and hating the Pussycat Dolls with every fiber of my being. Stupid hot girls.
Suffice it to say I will not buy any more sexy dance videos of any kind until I have much less fat on my body.
I think that's enough horror for one day. I'll share some more endeavors with y'all later, including my current exercise routine and future plans. Happy Friday!
Being the eternal fat girl, I have tried out MANY different types of exercise routines in the constant effort to slim down. Obviously, none so far have been successful for me because I had no willpower whatsoever. Until now, which is another story (and a much happier one, so far). I decided I would share with you guys a few different exercises I have tried over the years, and a brief summary of each. This should be fun.
Tae Bo
Yes, we've all heard of Billy Banks and his band of super-fit followers who manage to grin whilst beating the hell out of invisible attackers. I tried this workout around age 16 with my mom, some of my friends and some of her friends. We figured it was a double win because it's cardio AND self-defense lessons. Right.
The first few times we did it we were pumped up, and thought hey, this isn't so bad. Just some punches and kicks and lots of "Ya!"ing. I felt like Chuck Norris: Badass. I knew I could beat the hell out of any predator who dared cross my chubby path.
Unfortunately this was in the day of the video cassette (yes, I'm THAT old) and the tape wore out after about a month. What a rip-off. By then the old ladies were complaining of aching hips and backs and since my mom was my ride that ended my routine.
So, let's not blame Billy for my failure on this one. We'll blame my mother.
Curves for Women
For those of you who've never checked out one of these fat female havens, I'll explain the setup:
There's a circuit of machines with little bouncy pad things in between each machine. The machines are designed to work out different areas of the body - legs, arms, abs, butt, etc. You spend 30 seconds on each machine, then a little bell dings and you shift to the bouncy pad and dance/walk/jog in place until the bell dings again and you shift to the next machine. Three rotations equals a 30-minute "full-body workout" (their words, not mine).
My freshman year in college I decided I'd try out Curves because one of my aunts went there and gushed repeatedly about how much weight she'd lost and how fit she was getting. She was also doing the Atkins diet at the time so I'm not sure which contributed more. I was at a very insecure age; being 19 and fat is not fun for anyone. I figured Curves would be great because I could be dedicated to a gym but not have to worry about being self-conscious. It's all chicks. No dudes allowed.
I joined and went in, did the circuits correctly, bounced on the bouncy thing actively, and did lose about 10 pounds in a month. After a while though, I got to where I didn't feel like I was getting adequate workout for each area of my body, and while 30 seconds wasn't long enough for me, it's not allowed to remain at one machine repeatedly because it hinders the flow. Also, as I've mentioned previously, the music was horrendous. Cheesy remake of old dance music sung by Spanish tone-deaf dude. AWFUL. Give me Pantera, Aerosmith, something loud and mean to work out to. So, that endeavor failed after the one-month trial. Adios, Curves. I'll take mine with me, thanks.
Pussycat Dolls Workout Video
It's okay, laugh it out. I'll give you a minute.
...
....
.....
......
I know. I was in Walmart one day and had recently started yet another fad diet and thought I might try some new workouts. I moseyed on over to the fitness area (what a joke. There are more orange hunting vests than exercise items in my Walmart) to peruse the dozen or so exercise videos available. Immediately the PCD Workout Video caught my eye. I know they're hoes, but you've gotta admit, they're HOT. I can be hot, I thought to myself. I quickly envisioned myself all svelte and sexy, doing PCD dances for my husband. I threw the DVD in my cart and bought it before I could talk myself out of it.
I only attempted this workout one time. Just once. Wanna know why?
Fat should not, and will not, move the way they think it can in that video.
I started out okay, swaying my hips and thrusting (oh my God, I can't believe I'm sharing this with you people) over and over again as Nicole Scherzinger encouraged me with her sultry voice and smoky eyes (Side note: who wears layers of makeup to workout? Seriously!). Soon, though, they started with the REALLY sexy dance moves. Let me just say that fat is mostly sedentary, and if you get it all moving too fast, it builds momentum. I looked like a Jell-O commercial. A bad one. Eventually I just collapsed to the floor, dejected and hating the Pussycat Dolls with every fiber of my being. Stupid hot girls.
Suffice it to say I will not buy any more sexy dance videos of any kind until I have much less fat on my body.
I think that's enough horror for one day. I'll share some more endeavors with y'all later, including my current exercise routine and future plans. Happy Friday!
January 9, 2012
Motivators
I think if ever I feel like I'm losing momentum, or my willpower is slipping away, I should have some kind of go-to list of reminders why I got fed up with being fat in the first place, and reasons I have to stick to it. Health reasons aside, here's a few:
- Fat people hate summer. Sweat, shorts, tank tops, swimsuits, swim birthday parties, beaches = all various forms of awful when you're fat.
- Crossing my legs at the knees. Here's a picture to be sure you understand what I mean:
I haven't been able to do that since I was a freshman in high school. Know why? My thighs are too big. How much does that suck?
- Dresses. It matters not what fabric, color, accessories you use. Fat girls just do not look good in dresses because we have lumps, bulges and bloat. Everywhere. (Note: I love dresses, and plan to own dozens once I reach my goal!)
- Joints. No, not those you potheads. I'm talking about joint pain. Knees. Ankles. Back. I can't run more than a few yards before my knees reject the amount of weight on them. It's super-easy to twist your ankle when you're large. Again, too much weight. The back muscles support the stomach weight, so when there's excess weight in the stomach, the back suffers.
- Airplanes. I've fortunately never been so large an airplane seatbelt wouldn't fit around my waist, but a few times I've had to loosen the strap as far as possible to hook it. Also, those seats are tiny anyway. Squeeze a fat chick into one and NOBODY wants to sit next to her.
- Sex. Now, don't get me wrong, I am a happily married woman with a very healthy marriage. My husband apparently has some brain malfunction because while seeing myself naked in the mirror provokes the urge to scream, the husband thinks I'm sexy. I don't question it, I just thank God for it. However, it would be nice to look in the mirror and think, "Now that chick's HOT." Or better yet, maybe buy some lingerie that is actually small pieces of fabric, not yards of it. Also, we could probably get much more creative in the bedroom if I weighed less. Don't want to break furniture.
- High heels. Okay, so I know lots of women complain about wearing heels, even if they're small. Still, I am afraid of wearing thin heels for fear that they'll snap under the weight. I'm stuck with clunky heels and wedge shoes. I want to wear hooker shoes, y'all. AND have the killer calves to go with them.
- Jeans. I love jeans. I'm totally a jeans and t-shirt kinda gal. Boot-cut is the least insulting type of jean I wear (I don't want to say most flattering, because there is none). You will never see me in a skinny jean, because I feel like if I wanted to wear something that form-fitting it would probably be tights, but it would be nice to wear cute little low-rise jeans and not worry about a muffin top or my thighs looking like they're trying to bust through the fabric.
Geez, I'm motivating myself by the minute here.
- Sports. I love softball, basketball and football. I played the first two all through elementary and junior high school. I was really good at them, too. Now I would love to play on adult co-ed leagues with my cousins and friends, but feel like I'm way too out of shape for that. Running the bases would probably leave me gasping for air. That's embarrassing.
- Amusement Parks. Sure, I love the thrill of a roller coaster as much as the next chick. The most embarrassing thing in the world is walking up to get on a ride and then seeing a weight limit, which is usually 200 or 250 pounds. I'm always over that. No ride for me.
- Confidence. I hate walking into a room, meeting people for the first time, walking through restaurants and shopping stores. I always, always, always feel like when people look at me they're thinking God, she's fat or something equally awful. I'm sure not all of them are, but some are. I don't want to feel like that anymore.
I think that's a pretty good list for a first go. So any time I'm having a down day, or feeling like giving up, I'm going to come back to this list and remind myself why I started this lifestyle change, and why I will keep fighting until I reach my goal. Maybe they'll help some of you guys as well!
January 8, 2012
Feeling Good
Stepped on the scale this morning. I know they all say (just who are THEY, by the way? They say an awful lot about everything.) you should only weigh once a week, but really, who does that? Every time I walk into my bathroom I see it beckoning me. So this morning I caved, and so far I have lost thirteen pounds.
THIRTEEN POUNDS. That's a baby Labrador. Or a big watermelon.
Thirteen extra pounds of knee-killing, back-aching fat that is gone forever from my body. I'm ecstatic.
Not just about the pounds, because I still have a VERY LONG way to go. I'm so beyond thrilled because I am sticking to my new eating plan, and enjoying it. I don't feel like I'm being starved or forced to eat yucky food. It's all good, healthy food, and I love it. I'm walking every day for 30 minutes. My mother and a friend of hers have been walking with me, which makes the time go by faster and is a way to encourage each other. That makes me happy. Also, my mother power walks like those crazy ladies you see on the side of the road booking it with a fanny pack and a visor on, so walking with her is just a teensy step down from jogging. I'm drinking TONS of water. Besides my morning and afternoon cups of coffee (with no creamer and a tiny bit of sugar -working it out slowly), all I drink is water.
I feel good. I'm sleeping better. My legs hate me, but that just means it's working.
Also, the other day Jo-Anne over at Jo-Anne's Ramblings gave me my first blogging award for this blog, the Reader's Appreciation Award.
So I'm definitely keeping in mind that I still have a very long way to go on this journey, but the knowledge that my efforts are working fuels my fire and makes me that much more eager to continue on the path to good health.
Happy Sunday!
January 5, 2012
It's not just about being smokin' hot (though that is a motivator)
Whenever most people are on a diet, they frequently say things like, "When I'm all thin and sexy..", "Just wait until I'm hot and skinny..", and other references to being some form of small and a sex goddess. I'll be honest, I dream about the day I can give Jessica Biel a run for her money and make Justin Timberlake see what he's been missing all these years. (Don't tell my husband I said that.) Though it's definitely motivation to lose weight, it's not ALL about that.
My father's side of the family has an abysmal health history: childhood diabetes, Type 2 diabetes, heart disease. In my paternal grandmother's family, four of the five siblings (including my grandmother) have died from some form of cancer. My own father had a heart attack at 32 (though he suffered no permanent damage to his heart, thank God). My mother's side is ridiculously healthy. My great-grandfather lived to be 94, and my great-grandmother is still kicking at 95 and is healthier than most people. I've always hoped I inherited my mother's family's good health genes and that my dad's side somehow miraculously didn't transfer. Not likely.
I'm 27 with two small children. I want to someday be 70 with grandchildren, 80 with great-grandchildren. If I want to make it that long, I can't be large and in charge. I've got to be healthy and fit. This is something that has kept me up nights, worrying about whether or not I'd live to see my kids grow up. You shouldn't have to think about things like that at 27. I'm not going to anymore.
Also, when I began seriously changing up my eating habits, I realized just how much junk we allow our kids to eat. It's awful. I told my husband that it's up to us to instill in our kids an active lifestyle and healthy eating habits, otherwise one day they're going to wake up 27 and 280 pounds. I don't want that for my kids. I don't want them to spend summers wishing Fall would come so they don't have to wear a swimsuit. I don't want them hating school dances because they have to shop in plus-size departments for ugly old lady dresses while their girlfriends get to show off in skimpy little pieces of fabric. I don't want them to feel insecure and ugly and worthless. I've been there and done that. I refuse to let it happen to my kids.
I refuse.
So no, it's not just about being smokin' hot. It's about being around for my kids, and ensuring they live a happy and healthy life.
My father's side of the family has an abysmal health history: childhood diabetes, Type 2 diabetes, heart disease. In my paternal grandmother's family, four of the five siblings (including my grandmother) have died from some form of cancer. My own father had a heart attack at 32 (though he suffered no permanent damage to his heart, thank God). My mother's side is ridiculously healthy. My great-grandfather lived to be 94, and my great-grandmother is still kicking at 95 and is healthier than most people. I've always hoped I inherited my mother's family's good health genes and that my dad's side somehow miraculously didn't transfer. Not likely.
I'm 27 with two small children. I want to someday be 70 with grandchildren, 80 with great-grandchildren. If I want to make it that long, I can't be large and in charge. I've got to be healthy and fit. This is something that has kept me up nights, worrying about whether or not I'd live to see my kids grow up. You shouldn't have to think about things like that at 27. I'm not going to anymore.
Also, when I began seriously changing up my eating habits, I realized just how much junk we allow our kids to eat. It's awful. I told my husband that it's up to us to instill in our kids an active lifestyle and healthy eating habits, otherwise one day they're going to wake up 27 and 280 pounds. I don't want that for my kids. I don't want them to spend summers wishing Fall would come so they don't have to wear a swimsuit. I don't want them hating school dances because they have to shop in plus-size departments for ugly old lady dresses while their girlfriends get to show off in skimpy little pieces of fabric. I don't want them to feel insecure and ugly and worthless. I've been there and done that. I refuse to let it happen to my kids.
I refuse.
So no, it's not just about being smokin' hot. It's about being around for my kids, and ensuring they live a happy and healthy life.
December 31, 2011
Winning the war battle by battle
For the past two nights I've had to go out to a restaurant for dinner, the first with girlfriends, and last night with my husband. I have been trying to avoid restaurants because it doesn't really matter which restaurant you pick, my favorite item on the menu will most likely be the worst one for you. Cheese, bread, pasta, beef, I love it all.
I surprised myself on night one at Olive Garden. I ordered water to drink. I did enjoy a bread stick, but normally I would have indulged in two or three, so I considered that a small victory. I ate salad, of course, and then had a bowl of soup as my entree. All the while I was eyeing my girlfriends' dishes of chicken alfredo, Italian pizza and fried ravioli. (Note: They're all pencil-thin and fabulous, and of course they can eat whatever the hell they want with no consequences. Sometimes I hate them.) I was proud of myself though, and then even felt a little smug as I thought about how later my girlfriends would feel bloated and overly full while I would be satisfied and comfortable.
I didn't intend to return to a restaurant so soon, not wanting to test my sudden willpower. My husband called from work during the day, though, insisting that we hadn't been out to eat in a long time, and he wanted us to have a fun dinner with the kids and my mother. I caved, because he's so charming and persuasive, and we ended up at Texas Roadhouse. Hereinafter known as my arch nemesis. We'll call it Tex.
Tex - for those of you who have never had the misfortune of eating there - is this southern-styled, cozy and welcoming chain that serves big, hearty meals that are guaranteed to stick to your ribs and clog your arteries. Portion sizes are ridiculous, and the food is DELICIOUS. They serve this baby blossom, which is exactly the same thing as a bloomin' onion from Outback Steakhouse. It's battered and fried onions that you dip in sauce. I don't even want to know how much fat/calories are packed into that little appetizer, but I can tell you with certainty that it's good. Husband, of course, ordered one. I ordered my water with lemon and talked to myself in my head for about five minutes, assuring myself that I could, indeed, have a baby blossom sitting right in front of me and not eat it. I could. Waitress returned, set the blossom down, and I caved in less than a minute. I just wanted a bite. Which turned into about four. Although I gave in and had some, I didn't use any sauce, and I only ate four pieces, so I didn't torture myself too hard.
I had only had a yogurt and a small salad throughout the day, and my mom encouraged me to quit thinking about "diet" for one meal and just order whatever I wanted. The fat chick jumped on that bandwagon and started an inner monologue about how I've done so well the past couple of weeks and I should reward myself by having roadkill (it sounds disgusting, but it's so good) or one of those giant mesquite BBQ burgers that no normal adult should ever be able to eat in one sitting.
After a moment of temptation, I shut the fat girl up with more water and then ordered a grilled chicken breast and vegetables.
VICTORY.
I know it doesn't sound like much, but for me, the chick who really loves to eat almost like it's a hobby, this was a massive victory.
On the way home I was contemplating this continual fight I have with myself - and I don't want to call it a diet, because that implies temporary instead of permanent - I came to the conclusion that this quest I'm on to lose weight and make myself healthier feels a lot like a series of small battles. (Queue the Full House serious moment music) I might lose a battle here or there, and I will have days where I feel like it would be so much easier to just give in and eat what I want when I want, and sit on my couch instead of exercising. If I give up, though, I have lost the war. If I win one small battle at a time - one meal at a time, one day at a time - eventually I will win this war. I will kill this eternally hungry fat girl, and she will never come back.
Happy New Year, everybody.
I surprised myself on night one at Olive Garden. I ordered water to drink. I did enjoy a bread stick, but normally I would have indulged in two or three, so I considered that a small victory. I ate salad, of course, and then had a bowl of soup as my entree. All the while I was eyeing my girlfriends' dishes of chicken alfredo, Italian pizza and fried ravioli. (Note: They're all pencil-thin and fabulous, and of course they can eat whatever the hell they want with no consequences. Sometimes I hate them.) I was proud of myself though, and then even felt a little smug as I thought about how later my girlfriends would feel bloated and overly full while I would be satisfied and comfortable.
I didn't intend to return to a restaurant so soon, not wanting to test my sudden willpower. My husband called from work during the day, though, insisting that we hadn't been out to eat in a long time, and he wanted us to have a fun dinner with the kids and my mother. I caved, because he's so charming and persuasive, and we ended up at Texas Roadhouse. Hereinafter known as my arch nemesis. We'll call it Tex.
Tex - for those of you who have never had the misfortune of eating there - is this southern-styled, cozy and welcoming chain that serves big, hearty meals that are guaranteed to stick to your ribs and clog your arteries. Portion sizes are ridiculous, and the food is DELICIOUS. They serve this baby blossom, which is exactly the same thing as a bloomin' onion from Outback Steakhouse. It's battered and fried onions that you dip in sauce. I don't even want to know how much fat/calories are packed into that little appetizer, but I can tell you with certainty that it's good. Husband, of course, ordered one. I ordered my water with lemon and talked to myself in my head for about five minutes, assuring myself that I could, indeed, have a baby blossom sitting right in front of me and not eat it. I could. Waitress returned, set the blossom down, and I caved in less than a minute. I just wanted a bite. Which turned into about four. Although I gave in and had some, I didn't use any sauce, and I only ate four pieces, so I didn't torture myself too hard.
I had only had a yogurt and a small salad throughout the day, and my mom encouraged me to quit thinking about "diet" for one meal and just order whatever I wanted. The fat chick jumped on that bandwagon and started an inner monologue about how I've done so well the past couple of weeks and I should reward myself by having roadkill (it sounds disgusting, but it's so good) or one of those giant mesquite BBQ burgers that no normal adult should ever be able to eat in one sitting.
After a moment of temptation, I shut the fat girl up with more water and then ordered a grilled chicken breast and vegetables.
VICTORY.
I know it doesn't sound like much, but for me, the chick who really loves to eat almost like it's a hobby, this was a massive victory.
On the way home I was contemplating this continual fight I have with myself - and I don't want to call it a diet, because that implies temporary instead of permanent - I came to the conclusion that this quest I'm on to lose weight and make myself healthier feels a lot like a series of small battles. (Queue the Full House serious moment music) I might lose a battle here or there, and I will have days where I feel like it would be so much easier to just give in and eat what I want when I want, and sit on my couch instead of exercising. If I give up, though, I have lost the war. If I win one small battle at a time - one meal at a time, one day at a time - eventually I will win this war. I will kill this eternally hungry fat girl, and she will never come back.
Happy New Year, everybody.
December 21, 2011
My wonderful, evil grandmother
I've been doing really well on this new path to Skinnyville. I've cut out sugar, snacks, fried food, fast food and all things junk. I even walked past the bakery in Walmart today without a second glance. No bread for me, thanks.
I was feeling pretty dang smug today, proud of my newfound willpower. That is, until I stopped by my Grandmother's house after work. I'm one of ten grandchildren and eight great-grands, but I'm pretty confident that I'm the favorite. I now know this for a fact, because when I walked in the door my grandmother excitedly pushed me into the kitchen where she unveiled a fresh batch of peanut butter fudge, made especially for me.
My grandmother is the best cook in the world so I know this is the best peanut butter fudge in the world. She forced me to take the entire pan home "so no one else will eat it all". I couldn't tell her no, because making fudge is no small feat.
So, now I sit in my living room, glancing towards the kitchen every few minutes, with that fudge taunting me. It's practically screaming "EAT ME!" It's finally happened. My grandmother has joined the ranks of Doritos and sour cream.
I was feeling pretty dang smug today, proud of my newfound willpower. That is, until I stopped by my Grandmother's house after work. I'm one of ten grandchildren and eight great-grands, but I'm pretty confident that I'm the favorite. I now know this for a fact, because when I walked in the door my grandmother excitedly pushed me into the kitchen where she unveiled a fresh batch of peanut butter fudge, made especially for me.
My grandmother is the best cook in the world so I know this is the best peanut butter fudge in the world. She forced me to take the entire pan home "so no one else will eat it all". I couldn't tell her no, because making fudge is no small feat.
So, now I sit in my living room, glancing towards the kitchen every few minutes, with that fudge taunting me. It's practically screaming "EAT ME!" It's finally happened. My grandmother has joined the ranks of Doritos and sour cream.
December 20, 2011
Sometimes Fat is Funny
As a fat girl, there are possible pickles one can get into that just aren't in the realm of skinny people. True story:
I go to church every Sunday. I've always been a little uncomfortable in dresses because I have so much loose fat that just moves as it wishes. My dear mother bought me one of those super-tight, stretchy spandex full body slip things that holds all of the fat in place. The one I have makes me look about 20 pounds lighter, so I love it.
On a particular Sunday, very recently, I had on said slip with a new long black dress, made of cotton, really light. About midway through the sermon I felt an urge to go to the restroom. I went into one of the stalls in the bathroom and pulled up my dress so that I could pull up the slip enough to go. Unfortunately the fat smelled freedom, and got some momentum going. The force of the fat propelled the slip upwards in a rolling motion. Before I could react, my dress was rolled up in the slip, which was suddenly up near my chest. Luckily my boobs stopped it before it could shoot off of my head like a rubber band.
I tried to roll the slip back down, but the spandex wouldn't budge. This was a full-on fat protest. I stood there in the stall in this awkward position for about five minutes, and momentarily considered calling for help. That would have been wonderful. Everybody in the church come running to see what happened, only to find the spectacle that is me. Eventually I tugged and struggled long enough to force the spandex downward. Once I got it moving, I quickly rolled it down and back into place. It's harder than you'd think to dislodge a dress from rolled-up spandex.
When I had my clothes back in order, I realized I still had to pee. Forget that.
I go to church every Sunday. I've always been a little uncomfortable in dresses because I have so much loose fat that just moves as it wishes. My dear mother bought me one of those super-tight, stretchy spandex full body slip things that holds all of the fat in place. The one I have makes me look about 20 pounds lighter, so I love it.
On a particular Sunday, very recently, I had on said slip with a new long black dress, made of cotton, really light. About midway through the sermon I felt an urge to go to the restroom. I went into one of the stalls in the bathroom and pulled up my dress so that I could pull up the slip enough to go. Unfortunately the fat smelled freedom, and got some momentum going. The force of the fat propelled the slip upwards in a rolling motion. Before I could react, my dress was rolled up in the slip, which was suddenly up near my chest. Luckily my boobs stopped it before it could shoot off of my head like a rubber band.
I tried to roll the slip back down, but the spandex wouldn't budge. This was a full-on fat protest. I stood there in the stall in this awkward position for about five minutes, and momentarily considered calling for help. That would have been wonderful. Everybody in the church come running to see what happened, only to find the spectacle that is me. Eventually I tugged and struggled long enough to force the spandex downward. Once I got it moving, I quickly rolled it down and back into place. It's harder than you'd think to dislodge a dress from rolled-up spandex.
When I had my clothes back in order, I realized I still had to pee. Forget that.
December 19, 2011
Once there was a fat girl...
I woke up early this morning for a doctor appointment. The normal checkup kind, nothing serious. I decided to step on that evil little white thing shoved in the corner of my bathroom. For something so small, it sure is offensive. I figured I might as well find out how much I weigh before stepping on the scale at the doctor's office only to be shocked at how far they move that stupid weight thing over. They put it in the most public places, too, don't they? Just so everybody can see how much fatso weighs. Sometimes I wonder if the nurses take bets as people walk into the lobby...
I'm used to the number ranging anywhere from 265 up to 276. I've held that weight for the past three years or so, since having kids. I once starved myself on 600 calories per day for a month and got down to 259, but that's the lightest this chick has been since 2004. This morning, however, the needle stops at 280. 280! How did that happen?
I step off the scale, pondering where the suddenly four extra pounds came from (not that you'd notice them. At my weight, even ten pounds doesn't make much of an obvious difference). Sure Thanksgiving was recently, but I refrained from over-eating pretty well. I was even proud of myself. I had stressed a lot over finals (two weeks ago), and I might have indulged in some stress-induced snacking every day for the week leading up to and the week of finals. I think I ate fast food every day of finals, too, simply because my schedule was so messed up. I decide to blame the four extra pounds on finals, then shrug. Fat is a part of my life. Period.
Later though, during the thirty minute drive to the doctor's office, I get angry. Why do I have to just assume I'll always be the fat girl? Eternally fat, but really funny. I don't want that label. I get so tired of people always telling me, "I love your hair!" or "You have such a pretty face!" Screw that. I want a nice ass, a rockin' bod. I want to walk down the street in stilettos - without my feet screaming at me - and have men stop what they're doing to watch me pass by. Not that I'm looking. I'm happily married. I just want to be noticed, in a good way.
I have dieted off and on since I was twelve. I was super-athletic, played sports year round. I was good, too. Then I suddenly started gaining weight with no obvious cause. Turned out I have hypothyroidism. I've always used that as my excuse. I can't help it, my metabolism works backwards. My brain thinks my body is starving to death, so it stores every calorie. I pushed away reminders that millions of others have the same problem and manage to keep healthy weights. It's easier to ignore the problem and just sit on the couch watching NCIS and eating Doritos with sour cream. (Which, by the way, is the Devil's creation, sent straight from hell to torment me.)
I have tried various exercise regimens, walking, pills, SlimFast, P90X (that guy actually IS the devil), you name it, I've tried it. Everything but elective surgery. As desperate as I've been to lose weight, surgery always kind of felt like a cop-out to me. Also, my insurance wouldn't pay for it. Apparently you've got to be much, much fatter than me for that. There's a victory of sorts, at least.
The more I thought about it, the more determined I became. Why can't I do it, once and for all? Make small, healthy changes that I will stick to, find exercises I am comfortable with and start a routine that I will stick to, keep my goals at the forefront of my mind, and finally, hold myself accountable for my failures.
Then inspiration hit me. I'm already a blogger; I've kept a pretty good blog going for about three years now, with over 100 followers (maybe not that large of a following, but none of them were from those group follow things, so I count it as substantial). That blog is public and my family, friends and coworkers all know about it. I realized I could keep an online journal of sorts, and put all of my fears, failures, thoughts, feelings and honest-to-God opinions about everything. This would be my way of holding myself accountable and keeping my goals at the forefront of my mind. What better way than to write about them every day?
So here I am. Starting this brand new, completely anonymous blog. Hopefully people will find me and after reading a bit decide I am funny, inspiring, or both. If you would like to join me on this journey, please come along. Together we can starve this fat chick to death and help the skinny girl inside of me claw her way out.
I'm used to the number ranging anywhere from 265 up to 276. I've held that weight for the past three years or so, since having kids. I once starved myself on 600 calories per day for a month and got down to 259, but that's the lightest this chick has been since 2004. This morning, however, the needle stops at 280. 280! How did that happen?
I step off the scale, pondering where the suddenly four extra pounds came from (not that you'd notice them. At my weight, even ten pounds doesn't make much of an obvious difference). Sure Thanksgiving was recently, but I refrained from over-eating pretty well. I was even proud of myself. I had stressed a lot over finals (two weeks ago), and I might have indulged in some stress-induced snacking every day for the week leading up to and the week of finals. I think I ate fast food every day of finals, too, simply because my schedule was so messed up. I decide to blame the four extra pounds on finals, then shrug. Fat is a part of my life. Period.
Later though, during the thirty minute drive to the doctor's office, I get angry. Why do I have to just assume I'll always be the fat girl? Eternally fat, but really funny. I don't want that label. I get so tired of people always telling me, "I love your hair!" or "You have such a pretty face!" Screw that. I want a nice ass, a rockin' bod. I want to walk down the street in stilettos - without my feet screaming at me - and have men stop what they're doing to watch me pass by. Not that I'm looking. I'm happily married. I just want to be noticed, in a good way.
I have dieted off and on since I was twelve. I was super-athletic, played sports year round. I was good, too. Then I suddenly started gaining weight with no obvious cause. Turned out I have hypothyroidism. I've always used that as my excuse. I can't help it, my metabolism works backwards. My brain thinks my body is starving to death, so it stores every calorie. I pushed away reminders that millions of others have the same problem and manage to keep healthy weights. It's easier to ignore the problem and just sit on the couch watching NCIS and eating Doritos with sour cream. (Which, by the way, is the Devil's creation, sent straight from hell to torment me.)
I have tried various exercise regimens, walking, pills, SlimFast, P90X (that guy actually IS the devil), you name it, I've tried it. Everything but elective surgery. As desperate as I've been to lose weight, surgery always kind of felt like a cop-out to me. Also, my insurance wouldn't pay for it. Apparently you've got to be much, much fatter than me for that. There's a victory of sorts, at least.
The more I thought about it, the more determined I became. Why can't I do it, once and for all? Make small, healthy changes that I will stick to, find exercises I am comfortable with and start a routine that I will stick to, keep my goals at the forefront of my mind, and finally, hold myself accountable for my failures.
Then inspiration hit me. I'm already a blogger; I've kept a pretty good blog going for about three years now, with over 100 followers (maybe not that large of a following, but none of them were from those group follow things, so I count it as substantial). That blog is public and my family, friends and coworkers all know about it. I realized I could keep an online journal of sorts, and put all of my fears, failures, thoughts, feelings and honest-to-God opinions about everything. This would be my way of holding myself accountable and keeping my goals at the forefront of my mind. What better way than to write about them every day?
So here I am. Starting this brand new, completely anonymous blog. Hopefully people will find me and after reading a bit decide I am funny, inspiring, or both. If you would like to join me on this journey, please come along. Together we can starve this fat chick to death and help the skinny girl inside of me claw her way out.
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