What is a "Weight Watcher"?

Quote from my former Weight Watcher leader:  "Just because you're in a garage doesn't mean you're a mechanic, and just because you plant your tiny hiney here doesn't make you a Weight Watcher."

I didn't make it to my meeting today. I had all kinds of good intentions, but it's my husband's birthday "weekend". Yes, we do birthday weekends. I started it a few years ago that during the weekend of your birthday, it's YOUR weekend. Whatever the birthday person wants, the birthday person gets. It's really fun on my birthday, and a hell of a lot of work on my husband's birthday!

Between preparing him breakfast fit for a king, baking his favorite cake* from scratch and taking my cat to the vet, all before 11am, I missed all the Saturday morning meetings. I even forgot to step on the scales here at home. Tomorrow, I promise tomorrow I'll weigh in here at home.

I've been really good about my eating, no junk food at all (not that I ever eat junk anyway), but more importantly, no binging. I don't know what happened or why, but since I posted the Secret post, I don't have this crazy urge to eat at night. I'm tyring not over-analyze the situation and just let it be.

 I've cut back on the exercise just a bit, working out only five days a week for an hour or two hours, depending on how much time I have and if I'm in the mood for a 2-hour workout. I still feel like I'm cheating, but I feel so much better physically. It was getting where I was sore all the time, my muscles always ached and hurt. Now I'm giving them some recovery time. My workouts are stronger, and I'm not exhausted all the time. I'm even sleeping better. I'm trying to ease up on myself a little and not be such a nazi about the exercising.

The weekend
I screwed up royally on one of my husband's birthday presents. Several weeks ago he saw a commercial for the musical South Pacific playing at the Seattle 5th Avenue Theatre. It looked pretty cool and the reviews are great. He mentioned he'd like to go to see it, but we never discussed it any further. Last week as I was scrambling to get his gift (a really nice camera that I totally want for myself), I thought the play would be a fun thing to do together.

I looked online at tickets for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. The seats for Friday and Saturday were horrible, way in the back where you'd need binoculars to see it. Sunday however, had great seats at the 1:30pm show. Right up front, perfect view of the stage. I bought the non-refundable, non-exchangeable tickets. Over $100 each.

Yesterday my husband started talking about Superbowl Sunday. I asked, "oh, when is the Superbowl?" I'm not a big football fan unless it's the Seahawks or the Broncos. If it's not one of those teams I could care less. I almost fell over when he said this Sunday. Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!! Then  I asked, "you're not watching it, right?" He looked at me like I'd grown horns. His response was something like this..."are you kidding?! Of course I'm watching it! The Saints are playing!!!" My response, "who are the 'Saints'?

I got an earful about the Saints and how much he likes them. I honestly don't know where I've been the past few months when he was watching the Saints play, but I had no idea he was a fan.

Surprisingly when I told him the tickets were non-exchangeable and non-refundable, but maybe I could find someone else to go with me, he said no, he really wanted to go. Then he got excited about the show. He's actually a pretty understanding guy when I do this kind of thing, and I seem to do it a lot.

We're going to record the game, but I doubt it'll be the same for him.

*About the cake. It's chocolate, his favorite. I hate chocolate cake so I'm okay with it being in the house. No worries of me binging on chocolate cake. Now if it was carrot cake or German Chocolate cake, that would be an entirely different story.

The hard way is the easy way, the easy way is the hard way

lackadaisical

1. without interest, vigor, or determination; listless; lethargic: a lackadaisical attempt.

That pretty much describes me this week in regards to trying to lose weight. It's been a weird week. For the first time in two years I completely lost interest in tracking my food, measuring everything I ate, weighing myself every day (something I've done almost every day for two years) or even reading blogs. I certainly had no interest in posting either. I was losing interest in everything. A dangerous thing for a girl like me.

I've still worked out every day, tried to watch what I ate, even when I ate out at a pizza place and an Italian restaurant this week, but my heart just wasn't into it.

Then I watched Oprah tonight. I rarely watch Oprah but I kind of like that Dr. Oz guy. He was on tonight talking about diabetes. Scared the holy crap out of me. If you didn't see it, you need to see it. Here's a link to a clip where Dr. Oz talks for a few minutes about diabetes, but Oprah show isn't online yet.

First they showed how diabetes works, what it does to you. Then Dr. Oz shows what too much sugar does to your insides. It's like shards of glass going through your body. He wasn't just talking about white table sugar, but carbs like white bread or processed foods that turned to sugar.

Dr. Oz interviewed a patient of his, a 40-year old woman with diabetes. She was on dialysis because her kidneys were destroyed and half of one leg had been amputated, as well as part of her foot on the other leg was amputated. You could she'd been a beautiful woman at one time, but she looked terrible. Much older than 40 and so very sick. It was absolutely horrifying.

I keep thinking, well, I'm not that fat. Techinically if I was to go by my highest acceptable weight according to Weight Watchers I'm "only" about 20 pounds overweight. I don't want to weigh 155, I want to weigh 135, but I play that stupid game with myself that 155 would be okay, and 175 isn't so bad.

Dr. Oz burst that bubble for me. He said measure your waist at the belly button. I always measure my waist at the smallest part, which is about three inches above my belly button, so it's 32 inches. I already knew that your waist should never be more than half of your height. I'm 5' 6" so my waist shouldn't be more than 33 inches. I thought I was okay, but at my belly button my waist is 40 inches! I'm high risk for diabetes! Yes, I'm just a little bit freaked out by this little fact. I can't remember how much it increased the odds of me getting diabetes, but it was huge.

This means it's time to get off my lazy butt and get serious again. It means the end of my lackadisical ways. Back to tracking, back to measuring and weighing and Weight Watcher meetings.

In high school my best friend's dad use to always say 'the hard way is the easy way, the easy way is the hard way'. It took me years to understand that, but basically it means if you do the hard work now, it'll be easier for you in the long run. If you take the easy way out now, it'll be hard for you in the long run.

Let's see...which would I choose, have my legs cut off or do all that other stuff to get healthy? I choose the hard way (which in the long run will be the easy way!)

p.s. - my girl Pink is on Oprah today, and I have today off work. Woohoo!

The lost weekend

First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for your incredibly supportive and sweet comments on Thursday's post. I was overwhelmed by your kindness.

I was really worried about posting it, but I felt compelled to get it out in the open. Someone commented the truth shall set you free. So true.

I haven't binged once since I posted "My Secret". I haven't figured out why sharing that information made a difference, but it seems to have opened a door for me. A door that might lead me to freedom from the shackles of my food issues.
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Now about my totally boring weekend....

I'm not sure where the last two days went, but I feel like I didn't even have a weekend.

Yesterday I woke up at 4am with the worst headache of my life. I rarely get headaches but this one felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and hit me right between the eyes. I was wondering if I had a brain aneurysm or something equally fatal.

I couldn't bear to have the blinds open, a light on, or the TV. I couldn't read because it hurt too much. I took a handful of aspirin (three) and went back to sleep until 2pm. I can't remember the last time I slept that long (maybe never).

Even after I woke up at 2pm I felt like the headache was just on the verge of coming back (I still kind of feel that way). It was like my head was bruised inside, right behind my eyes.

I still managed to get to the gym by 6pm and get in an hour of cardio. That's about the only thing I accomplished Saturday, plus grocery shopping.

Today was another wasted day because my husband insisted I upgrade my laptop to Windows 7. What a fiasco that turned into (darn Microsoft and their stupid software!).

After being on the phone with four different Toshiba support techs (I was using the Toshiba upgrade CD they sent me), I finally found out that in the last two days they've been swamped with calls from people that are getting errors when upgrading to Windows 7. They thought Microsoft had sent out a Windows update that conflicted with their Toshiba Upgrade Assistant CD and it was throwing errors. Nice.

They talked me through the incompatibility issues, and after uninstalling some programs, I finally have Windows 7. They told me iTunes might not work anymore, but it does (thank God!).

All I can say is big whoop. It looks almost like Vista to me, with a couple cool new features (but totally not worth the hassle). My husband said they removed all the crappy code that was in Vista so it'll work better now. I guess the better stuff is stuff I can't see.

I went to the gym at 3pm today and did 30 minutes StairMaster and an hour of lower body strength training. Did I mention how much I hate lunges and squats?

The most exciting, yet disappointing, thing that happened this weekend is I found House Foods Tofu Shirataki noodles at my local Fred Meyers store, in the nutritional section. I was so excited because I've wanted to try these forever. Geez, I just re-read this paragraph...I get excited over tofu noodles?? I think I need to get a life.

Hungry Girl is always talking about how wonderful they are and they're super low calorie, low carb, and low fat. I'm one of those strange people that loves tuna casserole (my husband hates it, even made with real noodles). I made HG's Rockin' tuna noodle casserole with the Shirataki noodles. GROSS! Actually, super gross.

It's not that the noodles taste bad, it's the totally weird, rubbery texture of the noodles. It tastes like tuna casserole, but it doesn't "feel" like tuna casserole.

You get a huge serving for only 3 Points, but I don't know if I can ever get over the texture of the tofu noodles. It's just kind of icky.

Almost forgot, because of the headache I didn't make it to Weight Watchers on Saturday, but I weighed on my very accurate scales at home - 174.6. Up  1.6 pounds. It is what it is.

That's it, my totally boring weekend.

My secret

I may lose a few followers over this post, and some of you may not like me anymore, but here it goes....

I know why I ate like a woman possessed last night. I even knew when it was it was happening why I was doing it.

My best friend knows some things about me that very few people in this world know. They're dark, ugly things. Things I wish had never happened.

About two years ago I met someone online. A man. A funny, witty and charming man that lives in a far away city. Emails were exchanged, online chats started, then there were the phone calls, lots of phone calls. I've never met this person in real life, but I thought I was falling in love with him. It became an online affair.

Some people don't believe having an online relationship is cheating in a marriage, and they think no one will get hurt. If that's what you think, you're wrong on both accounts.

My marriage was going through a rough patch at the time. After almost a year, my husband found out about the other man by reading my emails, but he didn't know the emotional attachment I had establish with this person. We talked about divorce and went to marriage counseling.

I saw a therapist on my own and told her everything. She told me I needed to come clean and tell my best friend and be accountable to her. If I felt like calling the other man, I was suppose to call my best friend. The therapist also told me I have extremely low self-esteem (I really didn't need to pay her $150 an hour to find that out...I already knew.).

A little about my best friend. I've known her for twenty years. She's the kindest, sweetest, funniest and most moral person I've ever known. She's not a prude nor is she judgemental. She's what you would call "good people".

When I'm with her, I can't stop laughing. Last night I laughed so hard I was crying and my jaw hurt. She's a very strong Christian, but she doesn't shove it down my throat. She doesn't just talk the talk, she walks the walk. I've always wished I was more like her. I love her to pieces and consider myself blessed beyond words that she's my best friend.

When I told her my secret about a year ago, she reacted just as I suspected. She was shocked, but kind and supportive. I told her things I haven't told anyone. It was embarrassing, but it was a relief.

The last year I have slowly been trying to pull myself away from the man that I was so totally infatuated with. Because of the emotional attachment on my part, I couldn't just stop cold. I don't blame him or hate him for any of the emotions or feelings I've gone through. It was all my own fault. I pursued him, and he reciprocated. He's not a bad person, and neither am I, but we did some bad things.

The phone calls have stopped completely, as well as the online chatting. The emails are fewer and farther between, and these days they're always initiated by me. I think he's moved on to greener pastures, which is good for both of us.

I often wish I could have amnesia for that part of my life. I wish I could forget. It was against everything I believe in. It hurt my husband, it hurt my best friend and it hurt me. The other man, I don't think he really cared about me or even notices I'm gone. I was a slight diversion from his daily life, that was all.

I'm just starting to get back to being myself, to being a wife to my husband, a friend to my best friend. I've been in a strange, and often scary place for almost two years (my crazy period started in April 2008).

Last night my girlfriend kept saying over and over, "it's so wonderful to have you back! It's like you died and have been resurrected!" She must have said this at least a dozen times at dinner. I know she meant to make me feel happy, to feel loved. Instead I felt embarrassment and shame.

She said it was just like when her sister was addicted to prescription drugs and disappeared out of her life for about a year. Even after her sister went to rehab and kicked her habit, it was about another year before she was back to being her old self.

When my girlfriend kept telling how happy she was that I was back, I kept thinking about where I'd been for so long. My dark secret still haunts me. I still feel bad about it. Last night I ate, and ate, and ate some more. I'm not much of a drinker, and I don't do drugs. I eat.

If you've read this far, you're probably thinking I've totally misrepresented myself the past two years. You're right and you're wrong. Even though I did things I regret, I'm still the same person.

I'm the girl from Alaska that grew up on a homestead in the middle of nowhere. I was brought up in the Baptist church, I know right from wrong. I believe in God and in his divine forgiveness. I had the best parents and best family anyone could be blessed with. I'm married to a man that still loves me in spite of all my flaws.

I'm still the same woman struggling day after day with her weight. Speaking of weight, I feel like one has been lifted off me by sharing this with you, my dear readers, my friends. You know me a lot better now, maybe this explains some of my eating issues. I just hope you don't hate me.

This little piggie went to town

My best friend and I went out tonight to celebrate her birthday with dinner and a movie. I seriously don't know what happened to me, but it was like I checked my brain at the door.

I had the evening planned, exactly what I would eat, where I would eat it, how much and how many Points I would consume. I'd had my normal breakfast and a light lunch. I'd eaten 11 Points so I had plenty left for dinner.

We went to Claim Jumper, my girlfriend's favorite restaurant (and not somewhere I would chose - but it was her birthday - her choice). This is one of those places that serves portions fit for a lumberjack. It's totally ridiculous but that's their trademark, huge, unhealthy, fat laden, high calorie, delicious food.

I looked up the nutritional information and the rotisserie chicken looked like my best choice for 14 Points. I knew it would be half of a chicken, and I would eat half of the half for 7 Points. Then there's the sides, sweet potato without the brown sugar or butter. Roasted vegetables in a ton of oil (no choice here because they're already prepared). I ordered the apple-cinnamon muffin with the intention of taking it home to my husband.

All I can say is I think I went temporarily insane. I ate the entire half chicken, all of the sweet potato which was huge (518 calories!), and I ate the entire muffin. It was gigantic, like three muffins in one and it tasted like coffee cake. The meal came with vegetables roasted in oil, lots of oil. I ate all of them.

After we finished dinner, the waitress brought us TWO giant red velvet cupcakes with at least an inch of frosting, and a lit candle on each one. She said she saw us opening presents so she thought it must be our birthdays.

If you think I turned down a red velvet cupcake you're crazy. I ate it, every last bite. It was on a giant plate covered with little hearts made out of chocolate syrup which I mopped up with the cupcake. Who am I???

It gets even worse. We went to the movie, Leap Year (great movie, loved it!). I bought candy! I never buy candy. It was like I was possessed by a demon. I bought a box of Raisenettes and a box of Milk Duds. My girlfriend couldn't believe I was still hungry, but I didn't feel satisfied. It was so weird. I ate both boxes of candy by myself.

I'm home now and literally feel ill, like I'm going to throw up. It's like there's food stuck in my esophagus. I'm sweating and nauseous and kicking my own butt for being so incredibly stupid. What the hell is wrong with me?

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OH MY GOD! I just added up the calories and fat grams for that meal at Claim Jumper (it should be called Heart Attack Central!) and the candy at the movies.

3,935 calories and 78 grams of fat!!!!!!!

It's all about the attitude

Yesterday I posted about my binging, how I obsess over it. I also mentioned how Velda's post put my problems in perspective.

What really stands out about Velda isn't the fact that her problem is worse than my problem, it's her attitude. Even though her prognosis is grim (4 to 6 months to live), she is still positive and upbeat about her life. She's fighting as hard as she can to live her life to the fullest. She has hope that just maybe she'll beat the odds.

It really is all about our attitude. None of the weight loss experts can help us if we have a bad attitude. If we constantly tell ourselves we're going to fail at losing weight and maintaining the loss, we'll be right.

That's exactly where I've been for the last few weeks. I was feeling like this was just impossible. My binging was getting the best of me.

When I got home last night I decided I wasn't going to obsess about my binging anymore. I had to let go of that thought process. If it happened, it wasn't going to be the end of the world. So I eat late at night, so what? It might mean I won't lose weight, but again, so what?

Last night I talked with my husband. I confessed my late night eating. He had no idea, which kind of surprised me. I told him it was a serious problem, and I didn't know how to fix it. Just sharing it with him was a relief. It's funny how I can tell complete strangers I'm a freak, but I struggle telling my own husband.

We didn't argue, he didn't say I was a bad person or crazy, and he wasn't judgmental. He was kind and understanding. He's never had a real weight issue himself, although he is currently 50 pounds overweight (and he hates it). He knows how hard I struggle, but I know he doesn't really get what I go through since he doesn't have food issues himself.

Afterwards I felt relaxed and not stressed out by the thoughts of binging. I really didn't care what happened. I couldn't keep fighting this thing tooth and nail, and then lose the battle every night. I decided it wouldn't be a battle. I'm not giving up, but I'm not going to war with myself night after night over whether or not I should eat.

I fell asleep early and slept through the night without waking up once during the night. It's been months since I've had a good night's sleep.

My attitude isn't super happy, with rainbows and butterflies, but I'm feeling kind of happy, hopeful. It's more of an attitude that I need to let some things go, things that aren't really that important. Things like binging.
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A shoutout to my dear friend Pamela who is back among the living. I've missed her so much. She was the first person to ever comment on my blog. She's followed me for almost two years and has helped me tremendously.

Now it's my turn to return the favor. Please stop by Pamela's blog and offer her support. She's a wonderful person and she needs help right now.

A funny thing happened on my way to writing this post

I've been taking a break from my blog, stepping back and trying to figure out what is wrong with me.

As I do with most things in my life, I was over-analyzing my binging problem. To the point where I was becoming obsessed by it.

I was posting the same thing every day. I binged, I didn't binge, I wanted to binge, I need to stop binging, I don't know how to stop binging, what is wrong with me?! Over and over I repeated the same words. If I didn't actually post them, they were running through my head.

Then I'd talk a good talk: "I can do this!" "I'm going to do this!" "This will work!"

When truthfully, I'd fallen and couldn't get up. None of my grand schemes worked on me. The more I worried about it, the worse it became.

I had all sorts of theories about the reasons for my binging: my husband doesn't love me enough, my father died when I was 12, I was spoiled by my mother to make up for not having a father, I was use to getting what I wanted, my job is stressful. Or my personal favorite, I have some sort of mental disease, and I'm addicted to food.

I've been mucking about for the last few days, trying to figure out my problem, when this post by a very courageous lady named Velda popped up:

The Climb and Sometimes the Fall, My story of lung cancer that's gone to my head.

I read Velda's post, along with the last few posts that I'd missed.

Then I thought to myself, what the hell am I complaining about? Honest to God, I don't know anymore.