It's time to stop the dancing

On February 17, 2009 I was at my lowest weight (in about 10 years) of 154.6. Last Sunday I was 156.0. A gain of 1.4 pounds in the last four months. Basically I've been doing maintenance.

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!

My Sunday in pictures

Today's weighin:
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?

Farrah and Michael

Michael. I danced to his music. Even my mother bought his Thriller album when she was in her 60's, for herself. She loved pop music.

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?

Eat.

I fought the binge and the binge won

The truth: I didn't even try to fight the binge. That's how it won.

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.

Doing the happy dance over my RMR!

I had my resting metabolic rate (RMR) measured this morning at Swedish Hospital in downtown Seattle. They used a little machine called a MedGem. It somehow figures out your RMR by your breathing, how much oxygen your body absorbs indicates your metabolic rate.

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!

What the hell is wrong with this woman?

As the woman stood in the dressing room, in front of the three-way mirror, she stared at her reflection. She was wearing low-rise, size 11 blue jeans and a black sleeveless, v-neck top. She looked at the blue jeans, hanging on her body, about ready to fall off.

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.

Being the best I can be

My skinny girlfriend, Cindy, had her metabolism measured last week at Swedish hospital. Her base calories are approximately 1700, with no activity. She's been doing some serious marathon training for the November Seattle marathon for the last three months. She's 5' 2" and weighs 112 pounds (and yes I kind of hate her for that).

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.