The Fine Line - Finding balance in weight loss

It's been a while - about seven months, actually - since I sat down to write about my weight loss journey. When I was last here in December, I was at 216. In January I was down to 204 - the lowest weight I've been since junior high school. From there, the scale has climbed back up to 229.8 (I refuse to round up). Now, I could whine about gaining back nearly 26 pounds in five months. In fact, I have felt sorry for myself many times in the past few months. However, this needed to happen, and I'll tell you why. 

When I reached 204 pounds, I was not in a good place. This journey, which began with impressive motivation and determination (really, I'm still not sure where it came from) somehow, around five months in, turned into something unhealthy. I don't know what shifted it from good to bad, but it happened. I was exercising daily, eating clean and healthy (and taking in around 1400-1600 calories per day). I never slipped up, never cheated, had no desire to. I was so proud of myself, and somewhere in there I became obsessed with food and the scale. I kept precise records of what I ate, and got so focused on it that I was eating less and less - some days under 800 calories. If I ate over 800 calories (and I'm not sure why the number was 800 - no clue), the next day I would punish myself. Not intentionally, mind you.  None of this was intentional. I would end up eating even less the next day, subconsciously making up for the extra calories from the day before.  Also, I had begun to weigh myself every single morning, and again, if the scale moved up instead of down, ended up eating less. 

So, at 204 pounds, I was in a dangerous, borderline disorder place in which I could potentially cause myself great harm. My husband had begun to notice my behavior and shared his concerns with me. He suggested that I take a break from everything and just give myself time to relax. I did not want to stop my progress, but realized that I was headed in the wrong direction, so I reluctantly took his advice. At first it was fine, and I allowed myself to indulge in some of the foods I had avoided for six months. But then, as expected, I got too relaxed with eating. I started overeating again, and ate more junk than healthy food.  Surprisingly, I kept up with exercising, because I greatly enjoy it. I also got a job at a local gym, which introduced me to many different types of exercises and machines. So, although I've slowly been putting weight back on, I have maintained my fitness level and see the dangers of letting the weight loss control me. 

I am starting fresh with a new outlook, a new plan and some new support. My cousin, who is currently living at my house and working on her personal trainer license, has agreed to take me on as one of her first clients and will plan out a fitness and nutrition program for me. She will also keep an eye out for any of the behaviors that might mean my previous issues are returning. We are implementing Chris Powell's method of carb cycling, as explained in his book Choose More, Lose More for Life. 

I have realized that even when attempting to lose weight in healthy ways, it is easy to slip into harmful habits. I feel confident that the accountability of my cousin and my determination to journal about the process on a regular basis will help me stay on the right track mentally and emotionally. I'm excited and hopeful that this time, the journey will remain an uplifting, encouraging process! 

Fitness Humor

Yesterday I was bored (which seems to happen more frequently now that I don't have 2-3 books to read every week) so I googled fitness memes, and came across some hilarious images.  I decided to share a few with you guys.  Hopefully you'll get a good laugh (or several) from them.

Just posted this on my Instagram with a short bit of info about how I had to reach the point where I realized it didn't matter what I was wearing, I looked fat because I was fat. Still am, but not as fat as I was! And I'm a heck of a lot healthier! 

LOL My husband LOVES this.  He's all about that kind of cardio (as I'm sure most men are).

Not happening. 

Hubs and I had this exact conversation once.  

We laughed through most of it, but there was some truth to it! 

I am addicted to yoga pants.  

I still haven't gotten small enough to wear them in public, but I'll be there!

P90X evokes this feeling in me sometimes.  

Like last night, doing Kenpo X, after 15 minutes I was whining. Some days are easier than others...

I think most of us would be among the first to die anyway, but still.  

LOL

Spongebob and P90X.  So much awesomeness.

Yeah, this guy.  When we first started P90X, we would do a workout and I'd see the time counting down and think "YES! We're almost done!" and then Tony would be like, WAIT - Ab Ripper! Ugh. 

(Now I love it. Kinda.)

A LOT of motivation required. 

Fitness is never finished.  Ever. Embrace the lifestyle, people. 

Blogging takes a break, but the journey never stops

Hey guys.  Thanks to those of you who have stuck around. My first semester of graduate school is complete, and I must say that while I adjusted to it faster than I figured I would, it still consumed a great deal of my time. However, I'm on a break until mid-January, so hopefully I can get back in the swing of things and then keep up with it come Spring semester. 

Just as an update, I'll share where I am in my fitness journey.  I weighed in this morning at 216, which puts me at 59 pounds lost.  I am SO excited about hitting 60, but after passing my first goal of 50 the next is to be 75 pounds down, so I have 15 to go before I reach my second goal and then I am on the edge of ONEDERLAND! Yes, ladies and gents, I will be - for the first time in over 12 years - under 200 pounds.  

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! I can hardly imagine how excited I will be.  I know fitness is more than a number, but for me, personally, being in the 100s is something I have longed for, dreamed about, but never really believed I could do. Of course, once I hit that goal I still have 55 pounds left until I reach my weight goal.  I'm not worried, though, because I look back at how far I've come, what I've accomplished in the past five months, and how much stronger I am.  I look forward to the challenge, because I know I've got this.  

Oh yeah, I finally got around to joining Instagram.  Find me and I'll follow you back.  We can share fitness motivation, encouragement, recipes and successes! bea_beautiful_12 

Happy Hump Day! 

Ab Ripper X (or why I hate Tony Horton)

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. 

Little victories

Yesterday I had some girl time planned with some lady friends, and as I haven't put on a pair of jeans since Spring, I reached automatically for the size 26 (yes, internet, I just admitted my pant size) jeans, the 'ol reliable off-brand-because-popular-clothing-companies-refuse-to-use-that-many-yards-of-fabric-for-one-pair-of-jeans-because-if-they-did-it-would-cost-$200/pair.  When I put them on, I was delighted to find that they were way too big.

I WISH my stomach was this small (it will be). You get the picture. 

I had a couple of other size 26 jeans and one pair of size 24, but in my peripheral I saw hanging in my closet a pair of Mossimo 22s I bought back in 2005.  Yes, I've been hanging on to them for eight years.  When they no longer fit, I told myself that someday I'd be able to wear them again, after one of the MANY diets I attempted.  Each time I went through my clothes to toss out stuff, I never threw them out.  Despite the fact that when I tried to put them on I looked like this:

This tummy picture is much more accurate.

I still held on to the hope that someday, somehow, I'd start losing weight and I'd need them in the in-between sizes. 

Yes, 22 is still a quite large size, but since I haven't been able to FIT into them in over eight years, I figured being able to get them on again would be a small victory of sorts.  I debated internally for a few minutes, then decided to give it the old college try and see if I could squeeze myself into them.  I pulled them up with a fair bit of ease, then took a breath and pulled the waist together to button.

EASY. PEASY.

The buttons snapped with no pulling, no struggling, no sucking in or laying flat on my back.  Those puppies not only fit, they were LOOSE!

WHAT. 

I just stared down at my waist for a second, then started to giggle.  Yes, I giggled in my closet.  For a good two minutes.  Then I just felt such pride.  You dropped two pants sizes, I realized.  Two! That thought was followed by, If you can drop two sizes, then by God, you can drop more!

Of course the little nagging witch in my head (I call her Myrtle) was there to try and convince me that it's impossible to lose that much weight, but I shut her up easily this time.  I CAN do it.  I can get down to a size that I'm comfortable and confident in.  I can, and I will.

Just sit back and watch me, Myrtle.

Yes I can. I can!

Sometimes I feel like Eddie Murphy in the Nutty Professor, after Sherman gets motivated and starts eating right and jogging up a ridiculous number of stairs.  You know, when he gets to the top and does the Rocky dance thing.  Yeah, that's how I've felt lately. 

Before I started getting fit, though, I felt like this:

 www.1up.com 

I thought it wouldn't matter how many miles I walked/jogged, how many crunches or jumping jacks or cardio workouts I did.  I felt like I would always be fat.  I have always been overweight, so maybe I was just one of those people who would stay overweight their whole life.  

I have quickly learned that it does, indeed, matter how many miles I walk.  Every day that I walk gets me more in shape than I was the day before.  Every time I do a Chris Powell workout, that's 30 minutes of cardio and core strengthening I've accomplished.  Getting healthier, day by day, matters.  

It matters that I'm eating better.  It matters that I'm drinking water instead of sweet tea all day long.  It matters that I eat more fruit and vegetables than pasta and bread.  It matters that by getting healthier, I can look forward to watching my kids grow up, instead of worrying that I won't make it to see them become adults.  

It matters.  

So, with that in mind, I'm sharing this video of poor Sherman from The Nutty Professor, and how he started off feeling down about working out, but got better and better at it.  Progress, guys.  Progress. 

Monday's Meal

Happy Monday! (Yeah, right.) 

Since I've been eating clean, I spend a LOT of time searching for recipes that don't include butter, sugar and other no-no items.  The best recipes I've found have been thanks to Instagram and Pinterest.  There are many great accounts posting fitness motivation and recipes.   

I have designated Mondays as recipe day.  Each week I'll share a new recipe that I've found and tried.  Up first: 

Garlic & Lemon Chicken

 posted by Key Ingredient on Pinterest 

Ingredients
4      chicken breasts
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 lemons, 1 thinly sliced, 1 juiced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
¾ pound trimmed green beans (I used 2 cans)
6       red potatoes, cubed or quartered

Directions

Preheat oven to 400°F. Coat a large baking dish with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Arrange the lemon slices in a single layer in the bottom of the dish or skillet.
In a large bowl, combine the remaining oil, lemon juice, garlic, salt, and pepper; add the green beans and toss to coat. Using a slotted spoon or tongs, remove the green beans and arrange them on top of the lemon slices. Add the potatoes to the same olive-oil mixture and toss to coat. Using a slotted spoon or tongs, arrange the potatoes along the inside edge of the dish or skillet on top of the green beans. Place the chicken in the same bowl with the olive-oil mixture and coat thoroughly. Place the chicken, skin-side up, in the dish or skillet. Pour any of the remaining olive-oil mixture over the chicken. Roast for 50 minutes. Remove the chicken from the dish or skillet. Place the beans and potatoes back in oven for 10 minutes more or until the potatoes are tender. Place a chicken breast on each of 4 serving plates; divide the green beans and potatoes equally. Serve warm.

This recipe is super-easy and something that takes very little prep time.  Best part: it was DELICIOUS! Even Hubs and the kiddos were fans.  I only ate two bites of potato, but had my fill of the green beans.  

If you try it out, let me know what you thought! 

Progress is a process

Hey, guys.  Hope all is well in your lives and summer has been a fantastic one filled with lots of sunshine, love and happiness! My summer has been great, though not quite long enough.  I (finally) graduated in May with my Bachelor of Arts in History, and I will begin my first graduate courses in just a few weeks as I pursue my Masters in History.  I am equal parts excited and terrified at taking on graduate school.  My oldest daughter starts kindergarten and my youngest starts pre-k on the 19th.  Basically, this month is going to be jam-packed with new adventures for all of us.  I welcome the challenges! 

I last posted back in April and was attempting, yet again, to cut back on bad food and be more active.  This has been an off-and-on thing since I fell off the wagon last Spring. In June I jumped back on the wagon in full force, and have since created a great fitness routine that I'm  proud to say the Hubs has joined in on, and I have changed my meals to strictly clean foods.  My mindset has become less about weight loss and more about fitness.  I want to be fit and healthy.  I want my kids to see my husband and I eating well and exercising - and enjoying it - so they can learn good habits and being healthy will just be a part of life for them, and not something they have to struggle with. 

What really boosted my motivation recently has been Extreme Weight Loss with Chris Powell.  I saw a preview for an episode, so I went on YouTube and found several episodes from seasons past.  With each episode I watched, I found myself thinking, man, if people 400 and 500 pounds can find the willpower and determination to do this, then I certainly can! I went on Amazon and found a workout dvd by Chris Powell featuring some of the previous participants.  I saw that it had three levels, and one could progress as their fitness improves.  I bought it, and two days later it arrived.  I put it in and set level one, which was only fifteen minutes.  I did it easily and without much sweat.  The next day I jumped to level two, feeling confident.  Needless to say, it kicked my butt! I pushed through and 25 minutes later, as I was going through my cool down stretches, I felt SO proud of myself.  I felt strong.  I felt optimistic.  

A few hours later I found myself excited for the next day to come so I could do the workout again.  Now THAT was a first.  I have never looked forward to exercising, save for basketball and softball practice as a teenager.  The second day, I did the workout, and felt the same sense of accomplishment and excitement.  I made a commitment to myself that I would workout five days a week and eat clean seven days a week.  I did the video workout for a couple of weeks and then decided I should change it up a bit so as to keep from getting bored. I decided to do the video three days a week and treadmill/weights two days. 

Before long, I could feel myself getting stronger.  I had more energy, I had greater endurance.  I found myself choosing to do activities with my kids that I used to dread doing.  If we were going somewhere within walking distance, I set out with the kids and made it an adventure.  I was surprising myself! Then one night, Hubs came in from work and declared he was ready to start working out with me.  Well, imagine my delight! I had a workout partner! Woohoo! 

So, since then Hubs has worked out three days a week with me, and I have actually RAN on the treadmill - something I haven't done since high school - and have demolished 24 pounds.  Tomorrow Hubs and I are moving to the third level of the video workouts, which we plan to do for 2-3 weeks before starting P90X.  It's gonna get real! We did the Ab Ripper X earlier and it was serious business.  Sheesh. 

Anyhoo, that's what's been up with me and what's going on now!  I'll leave you guys with my new motto:

Finish what you started. 

Bring on the blender

One of my most favorite things about my lifestyle changes (both the current one and ALL of the previous efforts before it) is the fact that I genuinely love healthy food.  Granted, I also love fried chicken and chocolate-covered anything, but still... I thoroughly enjoy a nice salad, fresh fruit, a bowl of grapes and strawberries.  I love foods I had previously assumed I'd hate: bean sprouts, tofu, kale.  It's all good in my hood.  But something that has always been a favorite of mine and has grown into an absolute must-have for me:  SMOOTHIES.

I just LOVE 'em!

Strawberry, banana, blueberry, acai berry, doesn't matter what it is, I'm a fan.  What makes smoothies even more awesome is the fact that even if you're not a fan of things like kale or spinach, you can throw a few pieces into the blender with your fruit smoothie and you'll never taste it.  It's a win-win, people.  

I typically buy the bags of frozen fruit in the freezer section at the grocery for my smoothies.  You know, the just-add-milk deals?  So easy and they taste great.  I wish I could experiment more with fresh fruits, but the stuff is so dang expensive.  I do plan to try out a few new recipes, however.  Strawberry-banana smoothies get old after a while.  

Do any of you guys ever try out new smoothie recipes?  Let me know if you have any good ones! 

1st Milestone

I did it.  I hit my first milestone. 

THIRTY POUNDS.

3-0

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

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!

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.  

Struggling and venting (a twofer)

So, on Wednesday I wrote this great January recap post, going on about how proud I was of myself and the success I've had thus far with my new lifestyle.  I went on about the new way I look at food, and how I see it as healthy vs. unhealthy now, as opposed to yummy vs. blah.  I said that exercising daily has become routine, and how I look forward to it every day.  Basically, it was a love letter to myself.

Well, you know how you let your guard down for ONE second? 

Yeah, that happened.

But before I can fill you in on the meltdown, let me vent a little so maybe you won't judge me so harshly.

The relationship between myself and my mother-in-law has been sketchy since before Christmas.  Basically for the past five years I've just let her tell me when she's coming to visit, and for how long, instead of insisting that she ask if we're busy or if it's even okay with us that she and my father-in-law visit.  Also for five years I've allowed her to bring their dog with them to my house, even though me and our youngest child are both allergic.  They both know this fact, but don't much care. 

Finally back in October after the baby and I both got severe allergy colds after a visit from the inlaws and the dog, husband and I had a long talk and decided we were tired of it.  We broached the topic with the inlaws and told them that because of kiddo and my health we would prefer if they would leave the dog at home.  The next time they visited (without calling first - and they live an hour away) they brought the dog.  Unfortunately for them they picked the wrong day to do this, since I was in a particularly bitchy mood on that day.  I informed them both that regardless of allergies, this was OUR house and we wished that they would 1) respect our wishes about the dog and stop bringing him and 2) learn how to ask about visiting before just showing up.  This did not go over well. 

So Christmas was terribly uncomfortable for me, husband and the inlaws.  She was still miffed about the dog, and he had refused to visit the past three times in protest of the dog ban - although his absence didn't bother me that much because he's an insufferable jerk. Seriously. 

Fast-forward to two weeks ago, when dear mother-in-law texted me to inform me that she would be coming to visit that weekend.  I responded that it was not a good time for her to visit, but that they could come this upcoming weekend (today) to visit for the day.  I never got a response.  Then on Tuesday night I came in from choir practice and was informed by my very frustrated husband that she had just called him to tell him that they would be coming in on Friday (last night) to spend the night, and they were bringing the dog. 

I. Freaking. Lost. It. 

I started screaming, "No, no, no, no, NO!"  Husband just stood there in shock.  I think he was afraid of me for a second.  I got on my phone to quickly inform her that no, she would not be coming in on Friday, she could come for a few hours on Saturday, and she most certainly would not be bringing the dog, and if she wants to be angry at me, that's fine.  She had no response for me.  I went on to tell her that it very much upset husband when they continued to put the dog before their grandchildren, and how much I hated for him to be repeatedly upset because they couldn't bear to leave the damn dog alone for five hours.

(Note:  Let me interject here and say for the record that I LOVE dogs.  I always have.  I'm just terribly allergic to them and would prefer to keep the place where I live dog hair free. Is that so much to ask??)

What is her response?  She sends husband a text:  "Mommy and Daddy love you." 

What. The. Frick.   Even husband was like, "What the hell? How ridiculous can you be?"

Then again Thursday afternoon she called with yet another plea to come in and spend the night last night.  He would stay home (in protest again, I assume).  FINALLY, finally (thank you Lord) husband stood up for himself and told her that she was not going to come in yesterday and spend the night, but that she AND he could come in today and visit for a few hours.  He stood his ground and she finally, grudgingly, gave in and agreed. 

Now, I am not a moron, and have no desire whatsoever to spend my day with two people who I hardly like in general and certainly cannot stand at the moment.  I'm being as nice as possible because I don't want my husband to be estranged from his parents, and I do want my kids to know their grandparents, even if they are jerks.  So, I will be spending my day elsewhere while the inlaws visit husband and kids. 

So, back to the meltdown....

I was SO frustrated and aggravated Thursday night that after dinner I popped not one but TWO bags of popcorn and shoveled it all into my mouth like I was starving to death. 

Then yesterday while spending the day at a fundraiser I ate a sandwich (the first bread I have eaten in over a month).  Then for dinner husband suggested we order from a little mom-and-pop place up the road that does all kinds of food.  I usually order a salad, but tonight, no sir, I ordered the seafood basket.  Fried catfish, fried oysters, fried shrimp, coleslaw and hushpuppies.  I ate it all.  Every. Last. Piece.

So now I am angry at myself for doing so badly, angry at my inlaws for being morons, and just angry in general. 

I know I'll wake up tomorrow and be back on the bandwagon, but I constantly worry that one slip will cause me to give up completely and that I'll be forever fat.   I have GOT to stop being a stress-eater.  That, or somehow convince the inlaws to move far, far away....

Craft Time!

Just to be clear: I am in no way "crafty" - I don't make things from scratch, I do not sew, I hate glue guns and glitter pisses me off.  I do have occasional moments where I see something and think I could make that.


For example, the other day on Pinterest I saw this:

Link

I think it's a fun, great way to visualize your goal and success at the same time.  The large pink diamond is for the very last pound lost.  

So what did I do?  I went to Hobby Lobby, of course.  

Found the exact same glass jars, some green stones (I like colorful), some thick pink alphabet stickers and a giant pink diamond.  $23.49 later:

For some reason my camera flash made the glass look lined.  

Mine isn't as neat as the original, but hey, I think it's pretty good.  I look forward to that pink diamond being the last stone left in the "Pounds to go" jar, and then taking it out and putting it in the "Pounds lost!" jar.  I'm going to have a massive party when that happens! 

So there's your craft lesson for today, brought to you by Bea's Craft Hour.   

Tomorrow I"ll be posting over at Different Paths, Same Destination about my formerly awful eating habits.  It's personal, it's exposing, and I felt great after writing it!  Be sure to go check it out and follow the blog if you don't already! Today's former food post is by B!

Hurt

I started another post a few minutes ago about walking, but I have other fat-related problems on my mind right now, so I decided to postpone that one for later.  


One of my blogging buds, who is also on a weight loss journey, is having a hard time.  She's had some bad days - like we all do - and it's getting her down.  After talking with her a bit, I started thinking about the things that get me down.  The things that have gotten me down in the past.  Basically, all of the little and big things that occur that bundle into one word:  hurt.


People hurt you.  Family hurts you.  Friends hurt you.  Strangers hurt you.  You hurt yourself.  This happens to everyone, but I'm talking about the kind of hurt that comes with being obese.  


In junior high it was the hurt that came when I tried out for the cheerleading squad, and although I could do the cheers, dances and even the jumps perfectly, I was not picked for the team because I wouldn't look good in the uniform.  (I was actually told this by a judge.)  At twelve, that hurts.  


In high school it was the hurt that came when I had crushes on really cute guys, who inevitably always picked the skinny, cute girls.  Or when I fell IN LOVE (you know, 16-year-old obsession-type love) with my best friend Ben, and he would ask me for advice with all of the other girls he liked.  I had boyfriends in high school - I wasn't a total horror - but you know what I mean. Or having to shop for my Junior prom dress in the plus-size section of the store because none of the normal dresses would fit me.  At 14-17, that hurts.  


Adulthood has been jam-packed with moments of hurt from men, friends, family, strangers and myself.  One particular moment that stands out to me, almost ten years later, is a single moment of hurt that came from the last person in the world I expected it from:  my mother.  


At 18 I hit a rebellious phase, as most teens do at that age.  I was smoking, partying and doing everything but getting caught.  I hadn't started with the tattoos yet, but I went and got my tongue pierced.  To my deep-south, Church of God born-and-raised mother, this was a huge deal.  It was an embarrassment to her, because what would people think when they saw her daughter with a bar through her tongue?  Of course, I had to argue loudly with her because that's what stubborn 18-year-olds do with their parents, but she shut me up quick when she hit below the belt.  I guess she had had enough of my yelling, because she screamed at me, "SIT YOUR FAT BUTT DOWN RIGHT NOW!"  


Stopped me cold.  I sat down immediately.  I was shocked, angry and terribly hurt.  The hurt was more powerful than anything else, because despite all of the fat jokes and looks I was so used to from strangers, the last person in the entire world I expected to use my obesity against me was her.  (God, I can't even remember this without crying.) She seemed to instantly realize what she had done, so she lowered her tone, told me to take out the piercing, then left my room.  Neither of us have ever mentioned that awful moment.  I don't think either of us ever will.  Her, because she knows just how hurtful her statement was to me.  Me, because I could never acknowledge to her just how much it hurt.  I love my mother; she is the best person I know and she is a wonderful mother and grandmother.  She's one of my very best friends.  I confide in her, she confides in me.  We get along wonderfully.  I guess I decided long ago that I wouldn't hold against her the one moment in my entire life that she ever let me down.  Still, even now, almost ten years later, it hurts.  


I think if my husband were to make a comment about my weight, I would probably be devastated.  Somehow, it hurts so much worse when it comes from someone you love.  


So, while these memories - especially the last - still hurt me today, I have decided to use them as yet another motivational tool.  I will lose weight and then when those jerks who laughed about me before see me fit, they'll be checking out my ass, oblivious to the fact that years ago they thought I was disgusting.   I will lose weight and when someone makes a fat joke in front of me, they will be shocked when I call them out for being assholes.  I will lose weight, and maybe, hopefully, I can forget that one awful statement my mother made in anger.  


I'm not entirely sure why I shared this with you guys, because it's intensely personal.  Maybe that is exactly why I shared it.  No secrets here.  


If somebody hurts you, in any way at all, don't let it consume you.  Don't let it pull you under.  Turn it around and use it to make yourself better.  That's all any of us can hope to do. 

Drumroll, please...

I know I mentioned this in my last post, but I'm just SO FRICKIN' EXCITED and cannot contain myself so I'm telling y'all again...


I was asked, along with three other fantabulous ladies:  Yandie from Inspiration Strikes. In the Kneecaps, Mrs. One Day from One Day I'm Gonna... and Jessica from Simple Musings to join B. from The Opposite of That in a new group blog.  The blog is called Different Paths, Same Destination  and it will focus on weight loss.  Each of us are, in our own ways, attempting to lose weight, some just a few pounds, and others (like me) a bunch.  We're talking a whole Backstreet Boy.  Seriously, they only weigh like 90 pounds.  


Anyhoo, the first posts (coming very soon) will be our individual introductions, and then we'll get into the nitty gritty of it.  We will post about our successes, failures, progress, food, exercise - basically anything and everything having to do with our journeys through weight loss.  I suggest you get on over and follow us so you won't miss any of it!


We appreciate the support, just as we appreciate having each other to count on for support, encouragement, and shared celebration as we succeed in achieving our goals.  Hope to see y'all over there! 


P.S.  Those chicks I mentioned up there...they're totally awesome, and their blogs prove it.  If you're not already a follower, go check 'em out as well! :)

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!



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.

That's very sweet and I appreciate it.  I know I have to pass it on so I'll do that in the next couple of days.  Thank you, Jo-Anne.  If you aren't already following her, go on over and check her blog out.  She's great.


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!

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. 

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.