Tuesday, June 30, 2009
I've been dancing around 155 for months. I've gone up and down a few pounds. In March I was even up to 166.4, but I always settle back to around 155. This is not my goal weight, and it will not become my goal weight (it's 135).
I'm not exactly happy about this maintenance thing. I want to get to goal, I really do, but I don't seem to be willing to make the extra effort that is needed for me to get there.
Some days I wonder if I can even get there from here. Is it possible to lose another 20 pounds? I honestly don't know because I really haven't been trying. Every day I'm a failure at weight loss. The reason is simple. I eat too much. I exercise really hard, five to six times a week, and that's the only reason I'm maintaining.
I'm still doing the Missouri 60 challenge, but this morning I found another challenge that's perfect for me. I found it on Amy's Quest to Get Skinny, the challenge is for 15 weeks.
My personal goal, that I copied from Krista, is to lose 15 pounds in the 15 weeks. I can totally do this. That's one pound a week. Seriously, who can't lose one pound a week? Okay, that would be me for the past four months, but I fully intend to change that starting right now.
This is week one, and I'm using Sunday's weighin for my start, 156 pounds. If I make the 15 in 15, that will put me at 141. Very close to my goal weight. I'm going to change things up a bit to do this, so I need a plan. A real plan I can follow. More on that later, right now I'm just excited I'm even thinking about making some actual progress.
Let the challenge begin! If I make it, or should I say, when I make it, then I'll really be dancing!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
My starting weight was 239.2, current weight is 156, making a total loss of -83.2.
Here's my Missouri 60 Challenge picture (Tony/anti-jared's challenge). Since I don't have anything nice to say about my picture I won't say anything. It's obvious what I need to work on. I'll post a similar picture in 60 days. Hopefully there'll be an improvement. You can click on the picture for a larger view (if you dare).
I biked to my Weight Watchers meeting at 8:30 a.m. I saw a lot of cool stuff on my way there, but I didn't have time to stop and take pictures. I was flying like a bat out of hell to make it on time, a record 5 miles in 20 minutes (big hills), 203 calories burned one-way (almost the same on the way home). Heart rate high of 159, average 137 (resting pulse is 48).
Here are pictures of what I saw, but these aren't my pictures (from the web).
Lots of these cool yellow butterflies, they were everywhere.
Willow Goldenfinch, which is the Washington State bird, I saw several of these. So pretty.
A bunny stopped on the trail in front of me (which made me stop). My bunny was actually prettier, with stripes on his side and a beige colored tail.
A lady with platinum blonde hair and pink stripes in it. She was wearing a pink shirt. Actually looked kind of pretty. Perhaps my next hairstyle (?).
The coolest thing I saw was a lady in a bright red sporty-looking wheelchair. She was being pulled by a very large dog. I'm not sure what kind of dog he was, but huge, with curly blonde fur. The lady was tiny, maybe 110 pounds, and about 35 years old. The dog was on some kind of harness thing pulling the wheelchair. The lady was videotaping the dog and her surroundings. They were on the dirt trail that runs along the paved trail that I was on.
I wanted to ask the lady if it was okay if I took their picture, but I was in a hurry and I wasn't sure how she'd respond to a stranger approaching her (or what the dog would do). I kept on biking, but it was a memorable scene.
It was a great bike ride, perfect weather today. I LOVE riding my bike. It's my own little piece of heaven.
Except one thing. Lately, I've been plagued by a recurring dream/nightmare. In my dream I'm riding my bike downhill, really fast (which I do a lot). I try to brake to slow down but my brakes don't work. I look down and can see the brake line is cut and the frayed brake wires are hanging loose. I can't stop and I'm going faster and faster. I'm scared. Then I wake up. I wonder what would happen if I didn't wake up. Die?
Friday, June 26, 2009
Farrah. I wanted to be her. I had her hairstyle when I was in college. I never had a body like hers, but it was my goal (still is).
I saw Farrah's documentary about her battle against anal cancer. It was painful to watch. I thought she was brave. I cried for her, for her family, even for Ryan.
I remember Farrah said she wanted just one thing. She wanted to live.
It puts it all in perspective. My battle against obesity versus Farrah's battle against anal cancer. It makes my problem look trivial.
On a lighter note
Yesterday I Googled "how to not feel hungry". I was having another day of ravenous, insatiable hunger. After I read several web sites that said "drink lots of water", I found my favorite answer on wiki.answers.com:
How to not feel hungry?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Yesterday was my first day of counting calories. It was a big freaking disaster. I was perfect up until 9pm, my bewitching hour. I swear if I could somehow go from 9pm to 6am without entering the kitchen, I could get to my goal weight.
At 9pm I had eaten 1550 calories, and was doing great. Since I had burned 600 calories in two hours of exercise yesterday (walking and the gym), I thought 1600-1700 was a good range of calories for me. Then it happened.
I was putting away leftovers in the freezer, when I spotted my most favorite thing. Skinny Cow mint ice cream sandwiches, 140 calories each. I did the math and thought that would only put me up to 1690, I'd still be okay.
After eating one ice cream sandwich, the mindless eating thing happened. I ate the entire package, six ice cream sandwiches for 840 calories. After that I ate two handfuls of pecans for about 400 (?) calories. I don't even know what I was thinking. I guess that's the problem, I wasn't thinking.
I woke up this morning with regrets. My first thoughts almost every morning are what did I eat yesterday, was my eating good or was it bad? It's pathetic. I often wonder if this is how an alcoholic feels after a drinking binge. The remorse, the self-hatred.
To make matters worse, I skipped the gym this morning. I'm extremely sore from some intense workouts the last few days. I'm walking at lunch, and I'll hit the gym on my way home tonight.
I realize last night was just one night, but this is how it starts, my path back to obesity. Will I ever get control of my binge eating? Why is it so easy to lose control? Why do I do this to myself? Is it some form of self-hatred to eat like this? Of course, the biggest question, can I stop this in it's tracks right now? As usual, I don't have the answers, just the questions.
Today is a new day, a new fight. Hopefully, I'll come out a winner today.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
When the test was done, the dietitian looked at my number of 1900 and said, "Wow! That's a great number!" Remember my 29-year old friend, the skinny one that eats all the time? Her RMR is 1700, and that was considered really good.
I was literally doing the happy dance around the room. My metabolism is better than a 29-year old that's training for a marathon. Woohoo!
Factoring in for my sedentary job, here are my base calories to maintain my current weight.
My RMR: 1900 X Lifestyle Factor: 1.2 = Daily Energy Expenditure: 2280 Calories/Day
That number is based on me sitting still all day, no exercise. Considering I usually burn at least 400 to 500 calories (or more) a day in exercise, I probably need to eat a little more than has been my goal of 28 Points or about 1400 calories to lose two pounds a week, maybe around 1600-1700. This might explain why I feel so starved when I only eat 28 Points.
The dietitian asked me about my exercise and if I strength train. I told him I do 30-40 minutes cardio and 40 minutes of strength five to six days a week. Technically I probably only lift weights for 30 minutes a day, considering rest time between sets. He said that's why my RMR is so high, the strength training.
The dietitian told me about a woman my age that had been in his office a few weeks earlier. She had been working out for six years, but only cardio, no strength. Her RMR was 1200 calories. He said she was really disappointed it was so low (almost in tears). He told her to lift weights. He said I was proof that it works. That thrilled me beyond words that I'm an example of someone doing something right.
I'm counting calories today, which is really different. I haven't done this in years. Even pre-Weight Watchers I was doing South Beach and before that it was Jenny Craig. Does anyone have a good website they use where it keeps track of your calories? I'm using CalorieKing.com to look up the counts, but I miss the online Points tracker. I feel like I'm back in the dark ages writing in a little notebook.
I'm thrilled over my RMR. I was really afraid my metabolism had been broken from years of dieting and starving myself, then gaining and losing hundreds of pounds. It appears with hard work that damage was reversed. Still doing the happy dance!
Her friends were right, she needed new jeans. These looked awful on her, the butt was saggy and hanging down below where it should be. There was loose fabric around her hips and her thighs. From the waist down she resembled a homeless person wearing ill fitting jeans. Her shoes were cute, red high heels, but they didn't detract from the jeans.
She turned and looked at the pile of jeans laying on the chair and the jeans on the hangers. She had six pairs, two size 12 and four size 10. One pair of size 10's were slim-fit. She knew jeans tended to run small so even though most of her clothes were size 10, she hadn't dared try on size 10 jeans. The fear of rejection by a piece of fabric was more than she could bear.
First she pulled on the size 12's. Too big. She let out a sigh of relief. Next were the size 10's, they fit, and they weren't tight. They hugged her butt, but that's what jeans were suppose to do.
The last pair was the size 10 slim fit. She knew this was ridiculous, but maybe. She easily pulled them up over her hips. The real test was if she could zip them and not have flab hang over the top, the dreaded muffin top.
As she zip up the size 10 slim fit jeans, with no muffin top in sight, she had a feeling of elation. All those hours at the gym, all that deprivation of eating whatever the hell she wanted, it was all worth it.
The woman leaned against the wall in the dressing room, staring at her reflection. She still didn't like what she saw. Her hips were too big, her thighs too heavy. She found herself being critical of every part of her body. Her arms too flabby, her waist too thick.
Then she stared at her face, looking into her eyes. The thoughts whirling in her mind, thinking about the size 10 slim fit jeans that were on her body and how that conflicted with what her mind was telling her.
The woman thought back to 17 months ago, when she weighed 240 pounds. She remembered her size 18 jeans had split open in the butt while she was at work. The fabric tearing because of her excess bulk. She remembered buying her first pair of size 20 jeans. It was one of the most memorable and humiliating moments of her life.
She couldn't help but think, "what the hell is wrong with me?'
Yes, the woman is me, and this happened last night. I'm still wondering why I think I'm so fat. Why can't I truly accept who I am and what I look like? I'm not asking for compliments. As kind as you are about my appearance I honestly don't see what you see. I keep telling myself I've accepted it but it's a lie. A big fat lie.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
This explains why she can eat like a horse and not gain an ounce. Plus the fact she's only 29 and she's all muscle. She's the one with the crane and cherry blossom tattoo running down her side under her arm. It's gorgeous but she has a gorgeous body.
Tomorrow I'm going to get my metabolism measured at Swedish. I have a sinking feeling they're going to tell me my base caloric intake should be 800 or some other horrible deprivation level.
I have a lot going against me, I'm freaking old, almost 54 (I know Ida, that's not old!). I've yo-yo dieted my entire life. I'm pretty sure my metabolism is wrecked. Things in my favor are that I work out consistently and have done so for 17 months. I eat pretty healthy (is sugar-free mint chocolate chip ice cream a health food?). Of course, a lifetime of bad eating and exercise habits probably aren't going to be wiped away with 17 months of being "good".
I'm really curious about the results. I'm going to start counting calories for the next 60 days as part of the Missouri 60 Challenge. I'm so close to goal. I just need to bust past this 155 mark I've been hovering around. Don't worry, I know I'll never be 29 again and I'll never have Cindy's body. I've come to terms with that and I'm totally okay with it. I just want to be the best that I can be.
Have you ever race walked three miles in 30 minutes? It's where you're walking so fast that you're almost jogging, but you have to keep one foot on the ground at all times. I read the race walking rules and that's one of them. Arms bent at the elbows.
I know you've seen little old ladies doing this and you've laughed at them because they looked so goofy. I looked goofy, but my heart rate was up around 140 and the sweat was pouring off of me. My friend was barely breathing hard.
This wasn't what I expected. I was suppose to kick his butt, not the other way around. Tomorrow he wants to go on the hill that goes down to the water. I'm already worried about it. Downhill no problem, but uphill it's torture and that's walking at my regular pace. Walking like a bat out of hell is probably going to kill me.
This is going to challenge me. Which reminds me, I'm going to do Tony's (anti-jared) Missouri 60 Challenge. I took a picture this morning but it looked too horrible to post. It was after my workout, and I sweat a lot. So maybe tonight or tomorrow I'll get a picture up. Sixty days. Maybe I can kick my own butt during that time.
Dinner and a movie with my best friend got me home around 11pm (we talked a lot).
Then I was up at 3:30am checking on a software distribution. Normally not my thing but the regular guy is on vacation. It was software that if it wasn't distributed properly would shut down the airline, so I was a tiny bit worried. Everything went well, except my interuption of sleep. Since I couldn't go back to sleep I just stayed up. So tired.
Great workout this morning, in spite of the lack of sleep. The miracle of caffeine, although I'm sure I'm going to crash and burn this afternoon.
I'm walking at lunch with a guy that use to be on my team. I ran into him and his wife a couple weeks ago (she's the one that didn't recognize me). This guy was diagnosed with diabetes about a year ago. He's only 39 years old and needs to lose about 60 pounds.
I told him I walk really fast and he had to keep up with me or I'd leave him behind. He said he likes a good challenge. He's a really fun guy so I'm actually looking forward to walking with him. I gave up on all my other walking partners because they're too slow (or rather, they told me they won't walk with me anymore because I walk too fast for them).
Okay, this is the world's most boring post ever. I just don't have anything interesting or fun to say. I feel like I'm writing stuff just to be writing. Did I mention I'm really tired?
Sunday, June 21, 2009
When I was attending church, before my "I'm an atheist" revelation, I had attended one of those mega churches for several months. It had a latte stand and doughnuts for sale in the lobby. People would drink their lattes and eat doughnuts during the sermon (personally, I was a little appalled by this).
The attire was "come as you are" and people actually wore jeans to church. The music was almost hip-hop that sounded like secular music. The words were projected up on the wall, and there weren't any hymnals. It was a "modern" church where the pastor never spoke of hell, not once. Only of the rewards in heaven. I never liked this church. It never felt "right" to me.
My intent this morning was to go to another mega church near my home on the recommendation of a couple coworkers. I couldn't find the hours or their website, and I arrived too late for the 10 a.m. service.
As I was driving back home, about 1/2 mile from my house I saw the Faith Baptist Church, and people were walking into the church. I grew up attending a Baptist church so I knew I'd feel comfortable. I was right on time for the 11 a.m. service.
I loved this church! The people were amazing. Friendly and kind and they really made me feel welcomed. Having attended a lot of Baptist services as a kid, all the "Amen!"s and "Praise the Lord!"s were totally normal to me.
The congregation was probably about 150 people, which seemed really small compared to the mega churches I've become accustomed to. They even had actual hymnals, something I haven't seen in years. They used the King James version of the Bible. All the churches I've attended in the past several years used the NIV version. I need a new Bible.
The pastor was incredible. He was a very gifted speaker and the sermon seemed to be written specifically for me. It was about sinning and pulling away from God. One thing he said that really hit home with me was "Misery loves company and sinners love sinners." He talked about when we pull away from God we can justify any action. We reason with ourselves that anything is okay. Basically, if it feels good, do it. He spoke for a full hour, and I was mesmerized by his message. I felt like he had written this sermon with me in mind.
The entire experience was positive, but a little strange. I had no intention of going to this church. I stumbled on it accidentally. Or did I. And yes, I will be returning next Sunday.
This is probably a strange movie to review after my churchy post above, but I LOVED The Hangover. I laughed so hard my jaw was cramping up. I was literally doubled over with laughter, complete with tears. I can't remember the last time a movie made me laugh that hard.
I had to drag my husband to it, and surprise, he loved it as much as I did. If you haven't seen it, go see it!
Exercise & Food
OP all weekend. Woohoo! My goal was to stay out of the gym Saturday and Sunday, just to see if I could do it. My gym obsession has been a little out of control.
I biked for an hour yesterday (to and from Weight Watchers), but no gym visit either day. It was difficult, but I feel so much better. I was feeling sore and achy all the time and just wore out. I needed a break. I'll be back at it tomorrow morning. Stronger and better than ever. I'm also limiting myself to one hour of gym time per day. Any more than that is bordering on an obsession.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Big Mummy found the Real Women Have Curves clip on YouTube I was talking about. I watched it again this morning and found myself smiling even though I've seen the movie a couple of times and this particular scene several times in TV re-runs. It's something all of us women need to realize (and men too). We are beautiful, regardless of our size or that number on the scale. Neither of those define us. What's in our heart, our mind and our spirit are really what matters.
I went to a Weight Watchers meeting this morning. My best girlfriend emailed me yesterday and said she wanted to start going to "my" meetings with me. I changed to a new location about two months ago (but have only gone three times). I love the leader and it's about five miles from my house. This morning I biked to it.
After standing in the parking lot and chatting with my friend for almost an hour, I biked home, stopping at the neighborhood fruit and vegetable stand and bought local grown strawberries, local Rainier cherries (the best!), fresh spinach and baby bok choy to roast with red peppers and onions for dinner tonight.
After chatting with my friend I realized how much I've missed her. Since my great revelation about a year ago that I didn't believe in God anymore, I started seeing less and less of her, mainly out of guilt. I had shared my thoughts with her many months ago and instead of disowning me, she said she'd pray for me and was always there for me.
She's a very strong Christian, but not a shove-it-down-your-throat Christian. She walks the talk. We've been friends for over twenty years and she's someone I can always count on to be there for me. We made a date for dinner on Monday night. I'm not saying I'm totally back in the fold, I still have my doubts, but I realized that my life has never been darker than since I decided I didn't believe in God. I think I need to give this some more thought. Atheism doesn't seem to work for me.
A few other things have brightened my mood:
1. My goal weight: I've decided to up my goal weight to 139. That will make me lose an even 100 pounds and seems a lot more attainable than 135. Maybe when I get there I can go lower. I'll see how it goes. My Weight Watcher range is 128-160 (I'm 5' 6 1/2").
2. Peace: yesterday I made peace with an old friend. There's something comforting knowing that someone I care about cares about me. I wish him the best life has to offer, and I know he wishes the same for me. I'm very glad he's my friend.
3. My marriage: I've decided to make a real effort to make my marriage work. My bitchiness needs to stop. I should treat my husband at least as kindly as I treat complete strangers or my coworkers.
When someone at work makes some Jackass comment, I don't berate them and yell at them. I just let it go. Long ago I decided making personal enemies at work isn't worth it. Perhaps I should do the same with my husband. Let some of the stuff he says go. Not make a bigger deal out of it than it really is. I tend to do that, over analyze, and then make it into something it's not. There's work to be done on this marriage but I truly believe it's worth saving. Ida, thank you for your prayers. You may not realize it, but you have helped me tremendously.
4. My weigh-in: I gained, but I'm okay with it. I was up over ten pounds a week ago, at 164.8 (my lowest weight in the last two months has been 154.6). Here are my stats for today:
Starting weight 2/9/2008: 239.2
Today's weight: 157.4
Total lost: 81.8
I'm a happy girl on many levels. I love my husband, I love my friends, I love myself. Can life get any better than this?
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I loved all of your comments, they were touching, sweet and caring. This blogland is a strange place. People that I don't even know reach out to me, comfort me, console me. Of all the kind comments, Ron's really hit home. Ron, thanks for kicking my big, fat, droopy, old butt (now that's a visual), and yes, I'm still speaking to you. You're right, I need to get over myself and live my life. I'm healthy and in good shape, at least on the inside. What am I whining about?
Putting so much value on personal appearance is a losing battle for a woman my age. It's only going to get worse, not better. I can't fight the aging process, I just have to learn to deal with it, grow old gracefully. What's on the inside is more important than how I look. Being a better person, a better friend and even a better wife. Maybe if I was a better wife, maybe he'd be a better husband.
As far as my sexuality, I've never felt sexier than I do these days. I'm sure the exercise and the new self-confidence in myself has a lot to do with it. The video, well, that was a little setback. Looking at myself with a critical eye, comparing my body to all the sweet, young things out there, that was foolish and unwise. After all, it is what it is, and I can live with it.
My black mood has been with me all week but yesterday I went to a new level of darkness. I watched a video of myself, made yesterday. I was naked. You don't need to know why I made the video, I could write a book about that, just know I made a naked video of myself and watched it. Rather, I watched a few minutes of it and was so repulsed by what I saw I had to stop or run from the room screaming Phoebe style, "My eyes! My eyes!".
It was, to put it as kindly as I can be, absolutely hideous. I don't see myself as I really look. I must have that disease that's the opposite of Anorexia Nervosa, the disease where my mind sees me much skinnier than I really am. The fat on my belly and thighs is flabby and saggy and just ugly. Even my arms that I work so hard on looked flabby. My breasts are droopy, as well as my butt. It was all bad. I can't say one positive thing about my naked body. I was horrified, disgusted, disappointed.
You would think this would make me want to work out even harder to lose weight and get in shape. Sadly, it had the exact opposite effect on me. I felt like saying to hell with the whole thing. Even if I lose another 20 or 30 pounds, I'll still look awful. I know some of it's loose skin, and some of it is just age, regardless, it's not a pretty sight.
It explains a lot of why my husband isn't attracted to me. Seriously, I see nothing sexy in how I look. I don't just want the lights out, I don't even want to be in the room.
I've been told there's nothing as unattractive or unsexy as a woman that doesn't like her body. Well, that's me. I'm hatin' on my body right now.
One of my all time favorite movies is Real Women Have Curves. I love America Ferrera. She's one of my favorite actresses and I love this movie.
I caught a part of Real Women last weekend, the part where she's working in her mom's sewing shop, ironing the dresses. She's hot and sweaty and takes off all her clothes except her bra and panties. She encourages the other women working there to do the same thing. It's a hysterical and touching scene as each overweight woman pulls off her clothes and says, "you want to see cellulite? Look at this, THIS is cellulite." It made me laugh, but more seriously, made me wish I could accept my body for what it is, an almost 54-year old, flabby, overweight female body with curves and cellulite. I want to be like the women in the movie, but it was just a movie, not real life.
I have no profound revelation in this post. Only that I'm sad about how I look, especially after 16 months of hard work. I mentioned something about this to my husband last night, which resulted in a big fight. He said, well, you're not really fat. Maybe you should see a doctor, maybe they can tell you what you can do. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. I marched off to bed, alone, sad, and hurt. I'm still reeling from that one. WTF?! See a doctor? His answer for everything I complain about...see a doctor. I'm not even speaking to him this morning. I may never speak to him again.
Well, I said this was a dark post, and it is indeed. The naked truth, I'm unhappy, about my body, about my marriage. Where to from here? I honestly don't know.
I wonder if I have a touch of this, although seriously, the flaws aren't imagined. They are real.
Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD)Body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) is a disorder in which a person is extremely concerned with their outward appearance, and imagines severe flaws, or distortions, on their body. Typically these flaws are slight imperfections, or are merely imagined. Flaws in the skin, hair and face are most common, although these “flaws” can appear anywhere in the body.
The ugliness felt by those with BDD draws them away from social situations that might draw attention to themselves. Body dysmorphic disorder is sometimes considered a social phobia or a form of obsessive compulsive disorder. Those affected with this disorder are at an increased risk for depression and/or suicide. Plastic surgery is also common among those with this disorder. The poor body image those with BDD suffer from is common in people with eating disorders. People with eating disorders will often seek eating disorder treatment at a local eating disorder residential center in hopes of recovery.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I worked out this morning and it was another sucky workout. Two days in a row now where I've not been on top of my game at the gym. Where every movement was forced and tortured. I did some new upper body exercises yesterday with 20 and 25-pound dumbbells. My back feels like the muscles were stretched to the maximum. My shoulders and arms ache. I suppose that's good, that I'm building muscle, but it hurts. My butt is really sore too, but I don't know why.
What do I do with my free day? I had breakfast early and then took a two-hour nap. Now what? A movie? A bike ride (but it's suppose to rain)? Read a good book? I have several to chose from. Read blogs and actually comment? Maybe all of the above, minus the bike ride.
Not sure what I'm going to do, maybe I'll just go back to bed. I'm just so tired. I can't seem to shake it.
Here's a picture of my mother and myself 1997. I found it tucked behind some books during my cleaning out the bookcases. I weighed 135. God, I miss my mom so much. She was the sweetest, most awesome person I've ever met in my life. If I could go back in time I would have spent more time with her. I would never have left Alaska. If only we could turn back time.
Note: Going to the movies to see this. Looks fun, I love supernatural stuff.
Monday, June 15, 2009
That's the voicemail I had on my cell phone yesterday afternoon. One simple, yet painful word. I listened to it three times before I realized it was my husband's voice, which made it even more painful to hear. Although he's never actually called me a bitch, I have no doubt he's probably thought it several times during our almost 21 years of marriage.
After our difficult weekend, we both mumbled "I'm sorry" Sunday night, with a goodnight kiss, but there wasn't any makeup sex or "I'm really sorry I said that, I didn't mean it". I think we're both still hurting from the words we spoke (screamed) at each other, but I never expected him to leave me a voicemail that said "Bitch!".
We had talked earlier in the day about the stupid refrigerator that's broken (I think my cleaning frenzy broke it). No anger was involved, just dealing with a mundane domestic problem, a broken appliance. Who's going to call the repair place? Who's going to work from home that day to wait for the repair guy?
I returned his call, furious, and asked what was up with the "Bitch!" voicemail he left for me. He immediately explained he had been calling me when a woman cut him off in traffic. He said "Bitch!" but didn't realize he left it as a voicemail for me. Then he said, "honey, you know I'd never call you that".
Do I really know that? Apparently not since I was sure it was some devious, mean way at getting back at me for my poor behavior all weekend. In all honesty, I'm sort of a bitch to him. I'm not easy to live with.
It's been a bone of contention our entire marriage that I'm really nice to everyone else in my life, except to him. I don't know why I'm like this, it's certainly not how I was raised. My mother was a very kind and loving wife to my father. I never once heard them argue or even raise their voices with each other. I saw a lot of kissing, playful joking, laughter. I remember them taking afternoon "naps" on weekends while I was sent outside to play. I'm sure if I was more like my mom had been as a wife that I'd have a much happier marriage.
I really wish I could change, be nicer to him, kinder, more loving. That voicemail really hit a little too close to home for me. Will it change my bad behavior? Probably for a few days or until he does something else that ticks me off.
I guess I really am a "Bitch!".
A 48-Point day. What can I say? Dinner is what messed me up, whole wheat pasta, pesto (the full-fat kind since he ate all the low-fat stuff). Covered with fresh shaved Parmesan, and wild Alaska salmon. Dessert was a tiny banana, fresh organic raspberries, and vanilla yogurt. Too many Points at dinner, but at least I wasn't up at midnight doing my binge thing.
40-minute walk at lunch
20 minutes StairMaster
10 minutes Elliptical
No strength <---not good!
35 minutes crossramp
30 minutes strength
and I have a lunch date for walking for an hour
That has to go down as one of my worst weekends ever. Cleaning, fighting with my husband, a refrigerator that's still broken, binge eating at midnight two nights in a row (healthy crap, but a binge is a binge), and this morning I'm beat, on so many levels.
I'm planning a get away for us for next weekend. I'm not sure where, but it'll involve a hotel. Our marriage is in trouble and this weekend just proved it. The bickering, the name calling, the arguing over trivial shit. The refrigerator...really? Is that worth screaming at each other?
Worst workout ever this morning. I worked out last night at 5pm, 50 minutes cardio and 45 minutes strength. Really good workout, but I didn't finish until almost 7pm. This morning at 5am I could barely drag my butt out of bed. Less than 12 hours between workouts is a very bad thing. I got to the gym and had zero energy. 10 minutes elliptical, 20 minutes StairMaster and I said to hell with it and came home. My body wasn't cooperating so I just gave up. I'm sure tomorrow will be better, I just need to rest.
Okay, I've figured out that what I'm doing with food is NOT working for me. Every day I start off with the intention to eat only 19 Points, my baseline for my weight of 157 (today). I might allow myself five of the weeklies, and maybe a few APs, but I feel guilty if I eat those extra Points so I try to stick to the 19. You know what, that is not enough food for me. I know this because at around midnight or 1am I wake up famished, so hungry I can't go back to sleep. Then I sleep walk to the kitchen and find something to eat so I can go back to sleep.
My new plan is to start off the day with 19 + 5 + APs (today only 2) = 26. I have 26 Points to play with today and if I walk at lunch I get 4 more, so possibly 30 Points today. I'm eating every single one of them before I go to bed.
Here's to a better week than my weekend.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
This is my reward for finally cleaning. Now we have a $2500 metal box in our kitchen that's nothing more than a little freezer with a cabinet attached to it. I'm so freaking mad right now.
To make matters worse, my husband told me it was because there was too much stuff in the freezer which has probably stopped the airflow to the fridge part. Wtf is a freezer for anyway, isn't it to put frozen stuff in it? I didn't see any instructions that said there was a limitation to the amount of stuff. I thought if it fit, then it was good.
So now I just spent my morning cleaning out the freezer. Goddamnit to hell anyway. Not how I wanted to spend my Sunday. As he watched me put bag after bag of freezer-burned fruit and vegetables, along with two Costco sized bags of shrimp down the garbage disposal, I got a lecture about how I buy too much food. He said "if you're not going to eat it, then you shouldn't buy it". At that moment I actually wanted to physically hit him. I didn't. Instead I told him if he valued his life he'd get out of the kitchen, better yet, out of the house. He's out working on the yard.
I'm probably irritable because a.) I'm hungry, starving hungry b.) I was up until 3 a.m. putting my closet back together and in the middle of that decided to clean out my bookcases---and you thought your life was boring. c.) I'm fucking bored with cleaning. I'm not a maid, although I pretend to be one in my real life.
I'm going to the gym now. Maybe I can shake this foul mood I'm in, but then again, maybe not. As long as I'm not eating, I guess it's all good.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Around 2pm today I realized I hadn't eaten anything all day, except drank a pot of coffee. That's when I headed to the fridge in search of food.
We bought a new refrigerator last September. Somehow I had it in my head it was still brand new. Have you ever looked at something every day and just not seen it for what it was? For some reason when I opened up that fridge, I thought, oh my heaven! This is disgusting! Actually, I said something else, but I'm really trying to clean up my language and not sound like a drunken sailor in my blog.
After three hours of cleaning, even using Q-Tips, Kate Gosselin style, I finally had a sparkling refrigerator, half empty because all the spoiled, expired food had been disposed. I won't go into details of what I found in there, but it was incredibly gross (like fuzzy, moldy gross).
It's true I've been preoccupied this past year, or as my husband said, I've been working on a project that has consumed me. That project being me. I've let a few things slip around here, the fridge just being one of them.
Before attacking the fridge, I was in the middle of attacking my closet, again, which is now completely emptied with stacks of clothes and junk covering the bed and the dresser and the floor. I found my one pair of size 20 pants and tried them on for fun. I can't believe I was ever really that big. When I get to goal, I'll post a picture of me in those pants.
Putting on those size 20 pants made me realize the importance of the "Me" project. So I had a nasty fridge and a messy closet, who really cares about that stuff. I have a healthy body that's NOT a toxic waste dump, and I'm more physically fit than when I was 25. That's what is really important in this life, not how clean I keep the house. At least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
I love speed, the faster the better. When I was younger I use to get quite a few speeding tickets. Until I found out radar detectors are legal in Washington. The greatest invention ever. I don't speed recklessly, I only do it if the roads are dry and very little traffic.
But back to the bike crash last night. I came home around 6pm and my husband was asleep. He'd had a week from hell and I knew he was exhausted.
So I went for an evening bike ride alone. The weather was perfect, 72 and sunny. It was my first ride since my bike was tuned up and the old guy at the bike shop gave me a lesson on changing gears out in the parking lot.
This is sad to admit but at 53 I've never really known how to change gears so I always rode in a low gear to get up the hills, then downhill I just had to coast. Now that I know about shifting gears correctly, I was able to go really FAST downhill. Just so you know, that's not necessarily a good thing.
I was flying down a hill at about 32 mph when suddenly there were people blocking the path. I should have just slowed down but I panicked and clamped down hard on the brakes, so hard that I came to a sudden and very unexpected stop. I didn't think my bike would stop so quickly. To go from 32 mph to 0 mph in about five seconds is a little disorienting.
As soon as I stopped, I quickly lost my balanced and just fell over, with the bike on top of me. One of my more humiliating moments in life. One of the guys came over and asked if I was okay. Even though my elbow that had just hit the pavement was shredded, I said I was fine. I struggled to get the bike off of me and back to my feet. The seat on my bike had somehow turned sideways. It has a lever that you flip to adjust the height so it was easy to get it twisted back into the right position.
I hopped back on my bike and took off. After I got down the path and out of sight of the group that had just witnessed my stupid move of the week, I checked out my elbow and arm. It wasn't as bad as I thought, just tore off the skin and a little blood, not much. My knee got twisted and it hurt. This morning my back is stiff and sore, my knee is okay and my elbow doesn't look as bad as I thought it would, so I'm okay.
My husband's advice when I got home, slow down or you're going to really hurt yourself. What fun is there in slowing down? I don't want to bike like an old lady, even though technically I am an old lady (almost 54!).
I have a young heart and a young spirit and even if it was kind of embarrassing when I fell, it was sure fun doing 32 mph flying down that hill. Maybe I'll slow down a little, at least until I get better at the stopping part. That's kind of key, learning how to slow down and stop without flipping over.
Have I mentioned I love biking? It's the most fun exercise I've ever done, besides dancing, and well, that other thing, both of which take two people. For solo exercising, it would have to be the bike. Best ever.
Friday, June 12, 2009
It's not that I don't like healthy food, I "like" steamed fresh veggies and fresh fruit, fish and chicken, but let's face it, I LOVE the stuff that's bad for me.
Yesterday we had a Mexican potluck at work. We rarely have potlucks, mainly because I work with mostly men, and the few women aren't the type to cook. The times we've tried to have a potluck they were a dismal failure with everyone picking up junk from the deli.
I'm not sure how it happened, but the potluck was a huge success. People that normally don't cook, actually looked up recipes and prepared a feast. A couple people even brought in crockpots filled with mouth-watering Mexican dishes. One of the guys made guacamole from scratch, another one made homemade salsa, and another one made some sort of bean dip that was to die for. Of course, there were chips, and for dessert, there was a carrot cake from Costco.
I ate very lightly with a couple small spoonfuls of the enchiladas and one tiny little taco with all the trimmings. I passed on the cake even though I love Costco carrot cake with gobs of cream cheese frosting, filled with an apricot cream filling. I listened to everyone rave about the cake as I sat there and sipped my water. I felt deprived and a little bit angry. Angry that I'm always "dieting" and always turning down wonderful food. Angry that everyone was trying to push the cake on me, "come on Diana, you can have just a little piece".
I know I can never go back to eating how I ate sixteen months ago. Filling every food fantasy in my head. Yesterday was a treat day by eating the Mexican food. That means I have to be on the straight and narrow until my Sunday weigh in at Weight Watchers.
Actually, I have to be pretty much on the straight and narrow for the rest of my life. That kind of makes me sad. A treat now and then isn't really what I want, I want it every day. I guess I want to be healthy more than I want to fill my food fantasies. Some days though, it doesn't seem worth it. Yesterday was one of those days. I felt sad, like I'd lost a good friend that had comforted me for many years and now we're barely on speaking terms.
Today is another day. I feel stronger and not missing food as much. I wonder if other people think of food like I do. The comfort, the longing.
Maybe I remember it better than it was in reality. I have a flaw where I tend to remember the good stuff rather than the bad stuff. I kind of forget about the heartburn, the aching legs, the painful joints, being out of breath walking up one flight of stairs, and the clothes.
Oh my God! How can I foget the clothes? Getting up in the mornings and dreading getting dressed because absolutely nothing fit. Wearing the same pair of pants five days in a row because they were the only pair that fit, and I refused to go shopping and face the nightmare of the three-way mirror.
Yes, it's worth it after all. Now that I remember the horror of being morbidly obese. Food was not my friend back then, more like my enemy. The comfort was temporary, only minutes, the pain and agony of the extra weight was 24/7. Food is not comfort. I'm glad I passed on the carrot cake.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
One of most favorite bloggers, Pamela, disappeared on me for over a week. I read her blog every day so I really missed her. I was thrilled to see she posted last night. Go Pamela!
Now for me, I need to buck up and post every day too, and confess my struggles. Last night was tough for me. I went to bed hungry, starving hungry. I was out of Points for the day but since I weighed in at 158 that morning, and I want to get back to 155 as soon as possible, I refused to eat anything else. I finally fell into a fitful sleep around midnight, tossing and turning.
At 3 a.m. I woke up wide awake and famished. I couldn't go back to sleep. I got up and ate 1/2 of a mini watermelon (2 Points), and a mini bag of Healthy Pop (1 Point). I went back to sleep and got up late for my workout at 6:30 a.m. I only worked out an hour, versus my normal 1 1/2 hours.
So what the heck was that all about? Who gets up at 3 a.m. to eat? That's just wrong on so many levels. I know how to avoid it, and that's to go back to taking sleeping pills (or eat myself into a stupor before bedtime but that's NOT an option). Just over the counter Simply Sleep, but I still don't like taking anything that isn't really necessary. I'll see how it goes tonight. Right now I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep for a week.
If you're reading this and you're a blogger that's really struggling with losing weight, don't stop posting. It's just about the worst thing you can do. I really thing blogging has been a lifesaver for me this time. It keeps me honest if nothing else. Plus reading other people's blogs makes me realize I'm not alone in this. We all are struggling. For some reason, that's comforting to me, to know other people have the same problem I have. I don't always comment on other people's blogs because of time, but I read a lot of them. They are a true blessing.
On a brighter note, yesterday I went to the health fair at work, where they did a biometric screening. I hadn't fasted, so no LDL or Triglycerides results, but those numbers are always good for me. It's my blood pressure that I was worried about. I haven't been testing it at home since I stopped taking the medication a few months ago.
June 10, 2009 - weight 157.8
Total cholesterol 148
Blood pressure 120/71 <--- not on meds!
Resting heart rate 57
These are my numbers from when I started Weight Watchers. I'd just had a physical which made me realize I was going to die if I didn't do something about my weight.
February 2008 - weight 243
Total cholesterol 172
Blood pressure 184/110
I was basically a dead woman walking when I weighed 243 in 2008. My blood pressure was this high for at least a week, until I called my doctor and she had me in her office within an hour. She immediately put me on blood pressure medicine (Triamterene). I've been off of it for three months and my blood pressure is great. That thrilled me more than anything. HDL still needs work, but at least it's going in the right direction. It should be over 60.
It still amazes me what losing weight and exercising has done for my health. If everyone did this we might be able to put some of the pharmaceutical companies out of business.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
After I saw Urban Cowboy in 1980, I really wanted to ride a mechanical bull. I know, very white trash of me, but it looked fun, and okay, a little sexy. Especially when Sissy (Debra Winger) rode the bull as a jealous John Travolta looked on. I lived in Fairbanks, Alaska at the time, my home town. Even though there was a bar on every corner and country music was big, there weren't any mechanical bulls to be found.
I told my husband I'm going to ride the bull at the company picnic on July 12. His response, "well, I hope you don't hurt yourself!". I'm very strong, and although I'm almost 54, my bone density test last year showed my bones to be 110% percent (I still don't understand the extra 10%, but they said it's good). When I fall off I doubt I'll break anything.
This really isn't about being sexy, it's about being strong. I always feel like I have to prove I'm not old, that I'm just as strong, if not stronger, than my much younger coworkers. It's how I felt about climbing the rock wall, I feel the same way about this mechanical bull. My husband said he'll video tape it for me when I do it, so you'll get to see me make a complete and total fool of myself.
I have to be on a plane the day after the picnic for a business trip to Tulsa. I had better not hurt myself on the bull. I can just see me with a broken hip or something. Tulsa is two weeks of hell in a computer lab and if I do get hurt, I'm pretty sure my manager might think it was on purpose. At least my best work buddy is going with me to Tulsa and he promises me we'll have a fun time. Who knows, maybe I can find a real bull.
I'm on my third iPod and probably at least my fifth or sixth set of iPod earphones, at $40 a pop. I've finally figured out iPod earphones are a piece of crap. Last Christmas I bought the Etymotic in-ear earphones for $99. Great for about two months then one side stopped working. Back to another set of iPod earphones. This morning they crapped out on me, sending static into my ears. I've had them since February. To say I'm royally pissed at Apple is an understatement. I love my iPod but what's up with the inferior earphones.
Today I bought these Coby earphones for, get this, $11.24! They are amazing. The sound is just positively out of this world. I had no idea my little iPod was capable of such sound, and the loudness will surely make me deaf. Now I can block out those Chatty Cathy ladies that yak it up every morning on the elliptical next to me and drive me nuts.
Staying OP, no binge yesterday.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Every day is a damn hard struggle for me. Some days slightly easier, but those are rare. Most days it's difficult. I think there might be something wrong in my head to make me have such a strong desire for food. Or more likely, it's my screwed up head and what one of my favorite bloggers, Sara, said in her recent post. I have the obesity disease, for which there is no cure. Luckily, each day is a do-over. That's just how I roll I guess, it's one big struggle for me.
I was pretty good yesterday, 19.5 Points until 9pm, then I ate two nectarines and some watermelon (okay, more than some, it was a ton of watermelon). I was down 2.2 pounds this morning, but still a ways to go just to get back to 155 (about 6 pounds).
This morning I was at the gym when the doors opened at 5am and got in 20 minutes elliptical, 25 minutes StairMaster (level 6 & 7 on the speed program -tough!), and one hour of strength where I really rocked it.
I love lifting weights! I love watching some guy doing 20-pound dumbbells like he's Mr. Macho Guy and then I walk over and pick them up like they're nothing. It was a really good workout.
I had some new tunes on my iPod so I was an extremely happy girl. And the sexy bald guy that has incredible muscles smiled at me and said good morning, that was kind of cool. We've been working out side by side for months and have never spoken. I'm not sure what was different this morning, but it made me feel good.
So on to another day, another struggle. My internal battle of me against food. I wish it was different, but it is what it is.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
It was a very bad week, with the topper being a 76-Point day yesterday. I was completely OP all day until about 6pm. I had a healthy breakfast and lunch, then we decided to go to the movies. That's when my day went all to hell.
I popped a bag of Healthy Pop and put it in my giant bag, along with my stainless water bottle filled with ice and diet root beer. I had every intention of being "good".
We saw Star Trek. I totally loved it! I fell in love with the guy playing a young James T. Kirk, Chris Pine, what a sexy hunk. In his TV interviews I thought he was a total miscast. Yet he was perfect for the part, as was everyone cast in parts of characters I'd grown up with in the original Star Trek. Yes, I'm that old folks. I watched Star Trek in the sixties, before it was in reruns.
During the movie I kept thinking about reading on a blog that someone loved Sour Patch Kids candy, and it was non-fat and low in calories. I finally got up to go to the bathroom, and came back with a box of Sour Patch kids AND a giant tub of movie popcorn. I haven't eaten movie popcorn in 15 months, since starting Weight Watchers last February.
I shared the popcorn with my husband. He told me it was the best popcorn he'd ever eaten, and I had to agree. I didn't get butter on it, but it doesn't matter. We all know that stuff is popped in oil, tons of oil. One cup is one Point, and I ate at least ten cups. I could taste all the oil and it had a melt in your mouth quality. The Sour Patch Kids were yukky but I still ate the whole box.
If I had stopped here it wouldn't have been so bad, but then we went out to dinner. We both love Mexican food. In my former life (pre-Weight Watchers) we use to go out for Mexican at least once a week, now we go maybe once a month. I usually order chicken fajitas and a box when I place my order. I put two thirds of my food in the box before I even start eating, then kind of pick at the chicken and vegetables and the healthy cholesterol-free beans. I never touch the sour cream, guacamole, or rice. I allow myself one tortilla.
Last night it was like I was someone else. First of all, they make their tortilla chips in the lobby. You can watch the girl at the machine making these wonderful fresh chips. When they bring the big basket of chips, they bring three bowls of dip. One is a warm bean dip covered with cheddar cheese, a kind of slaw with hot peppers and then their regular salsa they make from scratch. Normally I never touch the chips. Last night I was stuffing them in my mouth with the warm bean dip, dripping with cheese. It was like I was possessed.
I didn't order the healthy beans and I didn't ask for a box. I ordered the chicken fajitas with corn tortillas, and I ate three tortillas filled with guacamole, sour cream and the chicken mixture. I ate almost all the refried beans and even some of the rice.
I was a woman out of control this week. When I stepped on the scales this morning I wanted to cry. Eight pounds in one week. What am I trying to do to myself?
It's just so frustrating, I feel like a pig. I know what you're thinking, I shouldn't beat myself up about this, it was just one week of screw ups (remember Thursday). I can get back on plan. The problem is if I don't beat myself up, I'll continue this behavior. I know myself well. I've repeated this behavior my entire life, with the last 15 years being a yo-yo of up and down 100 pounds three times. I have to stop this in it's tracks right now.
My plan for today:
Gym - 1 1/2 hour workout
Bike ride this afternoon or sooner (looks like rain)
Eat only my allowed 19 Points
No flex even though they reset today & no APs
About the letter to my husband yesterday, he apologized. He said he didn't know why he bought all that food. He didn't think it would bother me since I seem to have a will of steel when it comes to food (now that's hilarious!). He promised he wouldn't buy any more junk food, and if he does, he won't bring it home. He needs to lose about 50 pounds and is going to start going to the gym with me and trying to eat healthier during the day. No more fast food.
Funny thing about last night, my husband didn't make one comment about my eating so much at the movies and at dinner. It was almost like he enjoyed seeing me eat. He was unusually happy. It was kind of weird, kind of creepy weird. I'd have been mad if he had said anything, but to not say anything at all was odd. Maybe he wants a fat wife. It doesn't matter, because he's not going to have one.
Postscript: I told my husband this morning I gained eight pounds this week. He just looked at me and said "where?". I was wearing shorts and a tank top and sucking in my gut big time. He said it must be muscle because he sure couldn't tell I'd gained eight pounds. The truth is when I was wearing my size 10 jeans last night, they were too tight. I can feel every pound. But that was a sweet thing to say, even if it's not the truth (or he's not very observant).
Saturday, June 6, 2009
I understand that you're bored to death with the food around here. I totally get it. Chicken, fish, tons of vegetables and fruit, it does get old after months and months of eating the same thing. Grilled, broiled, baked chicken or fish, steamed, roasted or grilled fresh vegetables. I know...b-o-r-i-n-g to you, but delicious to me because I'm freaking half-starved most of the time.
I wish I had more time to try wonderful new recipes to make healthy food more appealing to you. Unfortunately, as you well know, my job has been consuming me these last few months. If I'm not working at work, I'm working at home. That's just the way it is right now. I don't have a choice. It's a new job, and a very demanding one. I have to do what it takes to be successful at this, finding a different, lower stress job right now isn't an option and not something I even want. Even though I complain about the amount of work, I actually like it a lot more than what I was doing. It's a great opportunity for me.
Therefore, I won't be trying new recipes anytime in the near future. Plus, and we've discussed this numerous times, I do better eating the basics. When I get all fancy and make really delicious new recipes, I tend to eat more. It's in my best interest to stick to the basics. I know that's selfish, but you know me, I am a very selfish person when it comes to my health.
I've tried hard to not be your food police. I don't make snide comments anymore when I see fast food wrappers in the trash. Yes, I've seen them, Burger King, Wendy's, Taco Bell. I use to nag you about it but I've long since let that go. What you eat is your business not mine. I'd like you to make healthier choices (no fries!) but as much as I want you to eat right, I can't make you. I remember when you'd make comments when I use to buy junk food and how angry I would get at you. I won't do that to you.
There is one thing I need you to stop doing that's having a very negative impact on me. Stop bringing food into the house that a.) you know I love and b.) that's completely unhealthy. My case in point are the corn chips, carrot cake and barbecued ribs that were here last week.
The ribs weren't that big of a deal because I'm actually over my love of fatty meat. It just doesn't appeal to me anymore. So I can let that one go, but the carrot cake and corn chips?! My God man, you know my addiction to those two foods.
When I found the half eaten carrot cake in the freezer out in the garage I thought I was in the wrong house. You don't even like sweets so what was that all about? You know I love carrot cake, more than just about anything. Especially carrot cake with gobs of cream cheese frosting. Luckily I was feeling strong on Tuesday and Wednesday, and then it was gone on Thursday (I know because I went searching for it).
Thursday. That was the day everything went to hell. The day my manager said one of the projects I'm managing would be done by June 19 or all hell would break loose. The day the developer on the project told me no way would he be done coding by June 19. The day I was told I had to spend two weeks in Tulsa in July, one week in Bohemia, NY in August and attend a conference in Atlanta in September. The day the Director told me I would have ten more cities added to my list of cities coming on board in the coming year for common use (my project: common use airports). The day I wanted to quit my fucking job because it was just too much. The day I came home at 9pm and said to hell with it all.
You were asleep when I came home that night. I found the corn chips in the pantry. I'd seen them earlier in the week in the kitchen, then they disappeared. I thought you'd eaten them. There was at least a half bag (large bag) left. I ate the whole thing. It was a day when I realized my food addiction is alive and well. That I wasn't cured. The corn chips led to half a gallon of sugar-free ice cream covered with organic raspberries and lots of honey. Then four slices of Dave's Killer bread covered with Smart Balance butter stuff and honey. I felt sick afterwards. I had a full-out binge. Something I hadn't done in months. It was a very dark day.
What I'm trying to tell you is that I'm like an alcoholic or a drug addict when it comes to food. I can't have things in the house that are bad for me and I love. I can't resist them. I will eat that stuff until I kill myself. It's like poison to me.
Like I said, I'm not your food police. You may eat whatever you want. I won't condemn you or nag you about it. I only ask if you must have corn chips or carrot cake or any of the other foods I love, that you keep that stuff out of my reach. The freezer and pantry are not out of my reach.
I don't think this is too much to ask. You've told me over and over how proud you are of me for losing this weight, and how good I look now that I'm thinner. I remember you saying a few weeks ago that I look like the girl you married 21 years ago.
I know you like having a thinner wife, we've discussed your concerns over my health when I was heavier. Although I know it was more than my health you were concerned about. You didn't like having a fat wife. You never came out and said it, but it was pretty obvious. I don't hold that against you, you can't help how you feel. You're just not attracted to fat women. It broke my heart at the time, but I've accepted it.
So if you don't want me to weigh 240 pounds again, or more likely a lot more, please stop bringing all this crap into the house. I'm weak when it comes to foods like corn chips and carrot cake.
I will eat myself into an early grave if presented with the opportunity. The only way I can control myself is to not have these foods available to me. I can resist buying them, I seem to have that kind of control. I only ask you resist having them in the house. If you love me, you'll do this for me. Please.
Note: I've posted this on the refrigerator. He hasn't see it yet. I'll let you know what he says.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
It's too bad I discovered this after I started reading Omnivore's Dilemma. Last weekend I declared I was giving up all artificial, non-organic stuff. My husband just shrugged his shoulders, he remembers my vegetarian phase about twelve years ago. It lasted almost two years, but it was too hard and my hair started falling out...I gave up.
I haven't cleaned out all our cabinets yet, so I still have some of the Smoothie packets from several months ago (I don't like them just as a smoothie, they taste weird).
Have you ever read the ingredients on a box of those Smoothie mixes? Check it out:
I don't think those are whole, organic ingredients. I wonder why the "Yellow 5" is in there. Is that to give the shake the perfect color? Was it too white? Some of the stuff is actually sort of natural, although very processed. For example, carrageenan is derived from seaweed.
I wonder how they come up with this stuff, a combination of non-fat milk and natural and not so natural ingredients that tastes like a milkshake (or so they claim). Imagine that job, let's take some di-glycerides, mix it with some acsesulfame, add some tocopherols. I wonder how years of eating this kind of stuff affects our bodies.
Note: MizFit's comment cracked me up. The truth is, I may not be willing to do this clean eating 100%. While I was tossing and turning last night (couldn't sleep), I thought about what impact this change would make on my life. The truth, a lot of giving up stuff I love and extra work for me. I'd have to give up convenience foods, even ones from the "natural" foods stores. And exactly how will it affect my health at this point in my life at the old age of 53? Probably not much.
All things in moderation, right? I'll lean towards more whole foods and organic, and of course, free-range chicken and beef (grass fed beef), but an occasional chemically created root beer float for one Point, honestly, how can I pass that up?
Monday, June 1, 2009
I woke up too late to go to the gym. Something I haven't done in months. I packed my gym bag and decided I'd go after work.
Unfortunately, I forgot I had a dinner date with a girlfriend. I'm not that much of an exercise fanatic that I'd cancel dinner with a good friend. Or am I? Honestly, that thought went through my head, briefly, but it was there.
Then I thought, well, I'll walk at lunch. I had my workout clothes so I was prepared. I was all ready to head out for my walk when a coworker caught me in the parking lot, just returning from vacation with his wife. I met his wife a couple years ago, when I was at my highest weight. Plus she and I have talked on the phone a few times and emailed. I'm really good friends with her husband.
After talking for a few minutes, she said, "I'm sorry, have we met?", I couldn't believe it. I said, "Nance - it's me, Diana!" That followed a half hour conversation of "Oh my God, I can't believe it, how did you do it?" That ruined my walk. What could have been an hour was only thirty minutes. I was appreciative of the compliments, but I really wanted to walk.
Then dinner with my friend. It was at this great seafood place in Tacoma, right on the waterfront. We ate outside, and it was an absolutely gorgeous day here in the Northwest. About 80 degrees.
I had a delicious King Salmon & Strawberry salad with goat cheese, candied pecans, mixed greens and the best raspberry vinaigrette dressing ever. I ate the entire salad plus all the dressing. Yes, it was THAT good. Nutritional value, I have no idea and neither did the waitress.
So not a great day so far, but not bad either. This is the part where it goes to hell. I got home and my husband had barbecued Buffalo burgers. I don't mean like spicy, hot, like "buffalo" wings, I mean like one of these:
I kind of have a thing for buffalo meat. I know it's weird. I blame it on having been raised on moose and caribou meat when I was a kid in Alaska. I ate not one, but TWO buffalo burgers. They were delicious, but I actually feel kind of sick now. Too much food!
So that was my day. Virtually no exercise, and way too much food. I don't even know how many points I consumed. I'm glad the day is over, and I get another chance tomorrow.
I had a disastrous bike ride last Wednesday, when I still had that catheter in my arm. I had the harebrained idea to take my bike off trail, I mean really off trail. I thought since it was an "all-terrain" bike I could take it down a hillside of blackberry bushes. I crashed big time and my legs were covered in scratches (I had on shorts). The bike went off on it's own down the hill, getting entangled in the bushes. I lost the speedometer I'd attached to the bike and got two flats. The flats didn't appear until I was about three miles from home. The reward was I found the coolest country road that's about three miles from my house.
The weather is awesome here in the Northwest. I have my new bike shorts ready, with the pillow built into the butt. Just what I don't need, a big, fat pillow butt--but I like comfort. I also bought a new Lance Armstrong tank top, black with a yellow band around one arm hole (only because it was on sale and very cute). My other purchase was a toolkit that attaches under the seat, and two spare tubes. Never mind that I have no idea how to change a tire on my bike. I guess I need to read my bike maintenance book and figure it out.
I'm dying to try some new trails. I have four books of bike trails in the Northwest. I'm especially interested in the Rails to Trails. The only problem is I need to convince my husband to go with me because the bike rack only attaches to his truck, not my car. He's not fond of me driving his truck (long story). I'm working on him.
Funny thing about this new passion of mine. There was an article last month in Women's Health. It said if your thighs are getting big from working out then you're probably working out too much on the bike. Biking = Big Muscled Thighs. Oh well, I can live with muscles. It's the fat I want gone, and if I can have fun doing it, that's all the better.
Goal setting is suppose to help us reach our goals. How ironic is that?
June goal: Lose 5 pounds.
I want to weigh 150 pounds by June 30. I know that's doable, just not easy. I feel like I'm trying to chip cement off my body. This is just ridiculously hard. It's a wonder anyone ever reaches goal. How do they do it? Maybe following the stupid program to the letter? That would be my best guess.
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