I will always think of myself as a Fat Lady. In my head, I will always be the girl to whom boys didn’t pay any attention. The girl who cried in the dressing room every time she tried on clothes. The woman who couldn’t fit on the amusement park ride with her daughter. When I look at myself, I see me at 274 pounds. Granted, that was almost four years ago, but it’s the heaviest I’ve ever weighed in at. The heaviest I’ve ever been. The heaviest I’ll ever be.
I’ve gone up and down, and up and down…and up and down for years. For most of my life, really. Where I am now…I’ve weighed less. I’ve weighed more. I’ve been here before. My friend, KB, is worried about me. She thinks I’m becoming obsessed. Worried that I am giving myself an eating disorder. I fret over food, panic about portions, and struggle with the scale. To be honest, I’m a little anxious about it, myself.
I know that she’s right. I need to take a deep breath, take a step back, and stop agonizing over this weight loss thing. But I’m terrified of going back. I had to look back through the years and find out when I weighed in at 274. Was it two years ago? Was it four? Or was it yesterday? Will it be tomorrow because I ate too much tonight? She points out that I won’t be going back because of the lifestyle changes I’ve made with both food and exercise. But I’ve been here before. Over and over again. Up and down. And up and down. And every time…EVERY single time, I swear that this it. That I’m making changes for good. Over and over again, I made myself that promise.
I want to believe that this—right now, right this second—that this is the time. That this is really, really it. No going back.
But what if it’s not?
I lost 3 pounds last week. Despite missing a few workouts. Despite overeating on a couple of occasions. Despite candy corn, Jimmy Johns, and chicken tacos, I lost 3 pounds, bringing my total to 37.4.
37.4 pounds! It's amazing and I am thrilled and proud of myself...
But I’ve been here before.
~FLP~
Showing posts with label Weight Loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Weight Loss. Show all posts
Monday, October 05, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Alweighs on my Mind
I have a problem.
There, I said it. It’s the first step to dealing with it, right?
I am addicted to my scale.
I know that I shouldn’t really weigh myself more than once a week. I know that weighing myself every day is not a good idea. I know that body weight can fluctuate as much as 10 pounds in a single day…I’ve seen it happen.
It’s not just every day, though. It’s every morning. Every night. Before meals. After meals. Before and after working out. Before and after showers. Every time it’s in my sight, I have to step on it. Just to “see.”
I thought it wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t be a problem because wasn’t making different choices based on the number on the scale. I was just curious.
But it’s become a big deal. It’s become a problem. Do I want seconds? Let me check the scale, first. The number haunts me during my workout, pushing me, taunting me. It can build me up and tear me down several times in a matter of hours. It’s exhausting.
It hit me last week that something has to change. I talked to the Hubster about it and asked if I could hide the bathroom scale and he could use one at the Y for a while. (I could use one at the Y, too, but I don’t like to get on the scale in front of other people—it’s the same reason I won’t use the one at my office, with or without someone standing guard for me.) He agreed, but I still couldn’t bring myself to put it away.
After my Weight Watchers meeting last Sunday morning, I decided I was ready. I’ve been doing very well with my weight loss lately—I’ve lost 9 pounds in the past 3 weeks, bringing my total to 33.8 pounds and I am feeling great. I am SO over the plateau.
So I stashed away my scale and I haven’t weighed myself in a week.
It’s a tough habit to kick. I can’t say how many times I’ve walked into the bathroom, looking for a scale that’s not there anymore. I’ve even eyed the scale at the office and the one on the fitness floor at the Y. It’s killing me. This week, I did a little rearranging in my bathroom, and the scale “just happened” to find its way out of hiding. I did not step on, although I tried really hard to convince myself that no one would ever know since I was home alone. I’ve stood in front of the scale several times, actually, trying to cut deals with myself. Last night, I was in the locker room by myself, eyeing the scale there. I didn’t do it, though.
I decided to wait until my meeting and learn my fate. I figure, if I gain, then I need to step it up and get a better handle on my eating, etcetera. If I lose, then I need to chill out and quit freaking out about weighing myself every two seconds.
Of course, my plan has flaws. Since I haven’t been weighing, I’ve been killing myself with exercise, spending a grand total of eleven hours working out, including Turbo Kicking four times, a three mile Memory Walk for the Alzheimer’s association, and two and a half solid hours of exercise at the Group X Fitness Jam last night. For the most part, I made pretty smart food choices. I did have more than my fair share of tacos….and a woman at my office broke out the candy corn last week. I’ve learned that it’s easier for me to just say NO and not allow myself any than to try to have a little bit. If I have none, I’m okay. But if I have some…I want more. Because I don’t want a little bit. I want the whole damn bag.
When I got up this morning, I eyed the scale, dying to know the number that awaited me. I knew, though, that there was nothing I could do to change it, so I may as well suck it up, head to my meeting, and find out the official number there. I lost…6/10ths of a pound. I won’t lie. I was disappointed. I’m really close to 35 pounds and I was hoping I would see it this week. It took me forever—yes, literally forever—to reach 30 pounds, I know I shouldn’t be chomping at the bit to see 35, but I am. I’m also ready to see 40, 50, 60+ pounds lost.
There have been plenty of non-scale victories. Smaller clothes, compliments, more energy, higher self esteem…the list goes on. It’s harder to appreciate those things, though, when the number is still so high. If I was struggling to lose my last five, ten, or even twenty pounds, I would feel better about the sluggish pace at which I’ve been losing. But, people, I still have at least another 65 pounds to lose. I’m not even halfway there. It’s frustrating.
During the Memory Walk yesterday, I was discussing weight loss with one of my teammates and I told her I wanted to lose about 100 pounds.
She laughed, “You don’t need to lose a hundred pounds!”
I smiled and told her, “Not anymore.”
I know that I’m on my way. I know that I can do it. (Do I sound convincing enough?) I’m suddenly feeling awful about myself. I was making dinner tonight and the Fat Lady inside of me was screaming at me to use more cheese. (I didn’t, although I did indulge in 6 ounces of delicious ice cream later.)
So, what have I decided about my little scale experiment? Like everything else, the scale is okay for me in moderation. I will allow myself to weigh in just once a day, not every time I think about it. I put a new shelf in my bathroom this week, so I think I will put a notebook there so I can keep track of how I’m doing.
34.4 pounds gone. While I’m secretly hoping for a 5.6 pound weight loss next Sunday so I can jump right to 40 pounds lost, I would be happy losing another .6 to get me to 35. At least it’s something.
There, I said it. It’s the first step to dealing with it, right?
I am addicted to my scale.
I know that I shouldn’t really weigh myself more than once a week. I know that weighing myself every day is not a good idea. I know that body weight can fluctuate as much as 10 pounds in a single day…I’ve seen it happen.
It’s not just every day, though. It’s every morning. Every night. Before meals. After meals. Before and after working out. Before and after showers. Every time it’s in my sight, I have to step on it. Just to “see.”
I thought it wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t be a problem because wasn’t making different choices based on the number on the scale. I was just curious.
But it’s become a big deal. It’s become a problem. Do I want seconds? Let me check the scale, first. The number haunts me during my workout, pushing me, taunting me. It can build me up and tear me down several times in a matter of hours. It’s exhausting.
It hit me last week that something has to change. I talked to the Hubster about it and asked if I could hide the bathroom scale and he could use one at the Y for a while. (I could use one at the Y, too, but I don’t like to get on the scale in front of other people—it’s the same reason I won’t use the one at my office, with or without someone standing guard for me.) He agreed, but I still couldn’t bring myself to put it away.
After my Weight Watchers meeting last Sunday morning, I decided I was ready. I’ve been doing very well with my weight loss lately—I’ve lost 9 pounds in the past 3 weeks, bringing my total to 33.8 pounds and I am feeling great. I am SO over the plateau.
So I stashed away my scale and I haven’t weighed myself in a week.
It’s a tough habit to kick. I can’t say how many times I’ve walked into the bathroom, looking for a scale that’s not there anymore. I’ve even eyed the scale at the office and the one on the fitness floor at the Y. It’s killing me. This week, I did a little rearranging in my bathroom, and the scale “just happened” to find its way out of hiding. I did not step on, although I tried really hard to convince myself that no one would ever know since I was home alone. I’ve stood in front of the scale several times, actually, trying to cut deals with myself. Last night, I was in the locker room by myself, eyeing the scale there. I didn’t do it, though.
I decided to wait until my meeting and learn my fate. I figure, if I gain, then I need to step it up and get a better handle on my eating, etcetera. If I lose, then I need to chill out and quit freaking out about weighing myself every two seconds.
Of course, my plan has flaws. Since I haven’t been weighing, I’ve been killing myself with exercise, spending a grand total of eleven hours working out, including Turbo Kicking four times, a three mile Memory Walk for the Alzheimer’s association, and two and a half solid hours of exercise at the Group X Fitness Jam last night. For the most part, I made pretty smart food choices. I did have more than my fair share of tacos….and a woman at my office broke out the candy corn last week. I’ve learned that it’s easier for me to just say NO and not allow myself any than to try to have a little bit. If I have none, I’m okay. But if I have some…I want more. Because I don’t want a little bit. I want the whole damn bag.
When I got up this morning, I eyed the scale, dying to know the number that awaited me. I knew, though, that there was nothing I could do to change it, so I may as well suck it up, head to my meeting, and find out the official number there. I lost…6/10ths of a pound. I won’t lie. I was disappointed. I’m really close to 35 pounds and I was hoping I would see it this week. It took me forever—yes, literally forever—to reach 30 pounds, I know I shouldn’t be chomping at the bit to see 35, but I am. I’m also ready to see 40, 50, 60+ pounds lost.
There have been plenty of non-scale victories. Smaller clothes, compliments, more energy, higher self esteem…the list goes on. It’s harder to appreciate those things, though, when the number is still so high. If I was struggling to lose my last five, ten, or even twenty pounds, I would feel better about the sluggish pace at which I’ve been losing. But, people, I still have at least another 65 pounds to lose. I’m not even halfway there. It’s frustrating.
During the Memory Walk yesterday, I was discussing weight loss with one of my teammates and I told her I wanted to lose about 100 pounds.
She laughed, “You don’t need to lose a hundred pounds!”
I smiled and told her, “Not anymore.”
I know that I’m on my way. I know that I can do it. (Do I sound convincing enough?) I’m suddenly feeling awful about myself. I was making dinner tonight and the Fat Lady inside of me was screaming at me to use more cheese. (I didn’t, although I did indulge in 6 ounces of delicious ice cream later.)
So, what have I decided about my little scale experiment? Like everything else, the scale is okay for me in moderation. I will allow myself to weigh in just once a day, not every time I think about it. I put a new shelf in my bathroom this week, so I think I will put a notebook there so I can keep track of how I’m doing.
34.4 pounds gone. While I’m secretly hoping for a 5.6 pound weight loss next Sunday so I can jump right to 40 pounds lost, I would be happy losing another .6 to get me to 35. At least it’s something.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Success Stories
Our YMCA has a bulletin board by the front desk, highlighting members. Recently, they've changed it to showcase members who have found success with the Group Fitness classes offered. This month, the Hubster and I were asked to write something for the board, along with another woman from our Turbo Kick class. It's exciting for me to be considered a success story and I wanted to share what we wrote.
~Me~
My husband and I joined the YMCA in March of 2008. Both of us were overweight and out of shape; something needed to change. We picked the Y because there are so many different things to do and it is so family friendly. We were excited about all the different machines, a welcome sight after using our apartment building’s pitiful excuse for a workout room for almost two years. (An elliptical, a treadmill, and a big, scary weight setup.)
For three months, we barely made our minimum visit requirement to continue getting the discount through our insurance company. We came, walked the track a couple of times, looked around, maybe swam a bit with the kids…but we weren’t doing anything…and nothing was changing.
Last July, while leaving the Y after our daughter’s swim lesson, we ran into friends of ours who invited us to come to Turbo Kick. I laughed, thinking she was kidding. “We’re not exactly in the same shape,” I told her. She said it would be fun.
Fun? I had my doubts. I looked for excuses. But I went anyway, scared out of my mind.
Within minutes (or was it seconds?) I was huffing and puffing and bright red, too embarrassed to leave my position and grab a much needed gulp of water. I still don’t know how I ever made it through that first class. J was just as beat as I was afterwards. He said he would like to do it again, though.
And so we went back. Again, and again.
I never thought I would be one of those gym people who schedules her life around exercise classes. I’ll never forget that first class. The first time we Turbo Kicked twice in one week. Three times in one week. My first Body Pump. The first Turbo/Pump “Double Header.” I couldn’t get enough. No more excuses. That first night opened the door to Group Fitness classes for me. I scoured the schedule with a highlighter, marking classes I wanted to try. Body Step, Body Flow, Fitness Yoga, Mat Pilates…later, Body Pump, Zumba, Hip Hop Hustle, PiYo. I’ve tried (almost) all of them. I love (almost) all of them! I have hundreds of dollars in workout videos at home on a shelf, but I’ve discovered I need someone I can’t fast forward through standing in front of me for an hour, telling me what to do, encouraging, pushing. Telling me I can do it. (Because now I know I CAN!)
I think it’s great the instructors offer options for different skill levels. I admit, though, that I found myself staying on the easier side of things for a long time. One night in Turbo Kick, Jennie told the class, “If you’re new, do this,” demonstrating the lower impact move I was working. “Hey,” I thought, “I’m not new anymore.” It was an epiphany and all that I needed to step things up.
This is not the first time I’ve tried to lose weight. In 2003, I tried a new diet plan and did walking videos in my living room. I lost 50 pounds in six months…I actually weighed 30 pounds less than I weigh now. I went off the diet, gained all of my weight back, plus an extra 25 pounds or so. I was miserable.
I didn’t take a serious “before” picture because I didn’t think there would really be an “after.” This time, I’m doing it for good, though. I’m eating right and moving more than I’ve ever moved in my life. I don’t get winded walking up stairs anymore. I’m wearing clothes that I couldn’t wear even when I weighed less. The scale isn’t moving so quickly these days, but I am okay with that for the most part—a pound of muscle weighs the same as a pound of fat, but it sure looks different! In the year since we’ve started Group Fitness classes at the Y, I’ve lost 30 pounds and more than 14 inches. I feel incredible. And while this is more of an “In progress” picture than an “After” one, I definitely consider myself a success story!
~The Hubster~
The Group Fitness classes at the Y have helped me on many levels. First, they have given my fitness plan a sense of direction. Before doing classes like Turbo Kick and Body Pump, my fitness plan was nonexistent. I would come and ride the bike or lift weights or run on the treadmill. But I had no real sense of direction, no end purpose or goals.
After doing my first Turbo Kick class, I was definitely hooked. Even though I was making a lot of mistakes, I was having a good time. Then I ventured into Body Pump. I had done some power lifting in high school, so I had the basic idea of what I was doing there. It was just a matter of regaining proper form and getting my strength back.
Which leads me into another thing that the Group Fitness classes have done for me; they taught me that I have the capacity to learn new things. They may not sink in right away, but I’ll get it over time. What I really appreciate is that the instructors take time to make sure that you are doing things the right way. They do it even if it means taking time after class to answer your questions and walk you through things so you understand them.
The one side benefit of the group classes is the camaraderie. Even though you are all in class working and sweating your way to a new you, there are really cool people there to encourage you. Both my wife and I have made many new friends since joining the classes.
If you would’ve told me a year ago that I’d be leaner, stronger, more confident and in the best shape I’ve been in since college, I probably would’ve laughed. But here I am now, stronger both physically and emotionally. My clothes also fit me a lot better. And yes, I am in the best shape I’ve been in since college, which was about 20 years ago.
In fact, if you would’ve told me a year ago that I would’ve completed a sprint triathlon, chances are that I would’ve questioned your sanity. But guess what? Not only did I complete my first triathlon, I’m looking forward to doing more of them in the future! In fact, I’m actually looking forward to training for the next triathlon season.
The Group Fitness classes have also shown me that a new body doesn’t just happen by snapping my fingers and hoping a genie will come out and grant me a wish for a leaner, stronger body. I actually had to work for it. And so far, the work is paying off. In the last year I have lost close to 20 pounds. I’m not quite where I want to be, but I’m well on my way. And thanks to the guidance of instructors like Jennie, Beth, Julie, and Sarah, I know the direction that will get me there.
~FLP~
~Me~
My husband and I joined the YMCA in March of 2008. Both of us were overweight and out of shape; something needed to change. We picked the Y because there are so many different things to do and it is so family friendly. We were excited about all the different machines, a welcome sight after using our apartment building’s pitiful excuse for a workout room for almost two years. (An elliptical, a treadmill, and a big, scary weight setup.)
For three months, we barely made our minimum visit requirement to continue getting the discount through our insurance company. We came, walked the track a couple of times, looked around, maybe swam a bit with the kids…but we weren’t doing anything…and nothing was changing.
Last July, while leaving the Y after our daughter’s swim lesson, we ran into friends of ours who invited us to come to Turbo Kick. I laughed, thinking she was kidding. “We’re not exactly in the same shape,” I told her. She said it would be fun.
Fun? I had my doubts. I looked for excuses. But I went anyway, scared out of my mind.
Within minutes (or was it seconds?) I was huffing and puffing and bright red, too embarrassed to leave my position and grab a much needed gulp of water. I still don’t know how I ever made it through that first class. J was just as beat as I was afterwards. He said he would like to do it again, though.
And so we went back. Again, and again.
I never thought I would be one of those gym people who schedules her life around exercise classes. I’ll never forget that first class. The first time we Turbo Kicked twice in one week. Three times in one week. My first Body Pump. The first Turbo/Pump “Double Header.” I couldn’t get enough. No more excuses. That first night opened the door to Group Fitness classes for me. I scoured the schedule with a highlighter, marking classes I wanted to try. Body Step, Body Flow, Fitness Yoga, Mat Pilates…later, Body Pump, Zumba, Hip Hop Hustle, PiYo. I’ve tried (almost) all of them. I love (almost) all of them! I have hundreds of dollars in workout videos at home on a shelf, but I’ve discovered I need someone I can’t fast forward through standing in front of me for an hour, telling me what to do, encouraging, pushing. Telling me I can do it. (Because now I know I CAN!)
I think it’s great the instructors offer options for different skill levels. I admit, though, that I found myself staying on the easier side of things for a long time. One night in Turbo Kick, Jennie told the class, “If you’re new, do this,” demonstrating the lower impact move I was working. “Hey,” I thought, “I’m not new anymore.” It was an epiphany and all that I needed to step things up.
This is not the first time I’ve tried to lose weight. In 2003, I tried a new diet plan and did walking videos in my living room. I lost 50 pounds in six months…I actually weighed 30 pounds less than I weigh now. I went off the diet, gained all of my weight back, plus an extra 25 pounds or so. I was miserable.
I didn’t take a serious “before” picture because I didn’t think there would really be an “after.” This time, I’m doing it for good, though. I’m eating right and moving more than I’ve ever moved in my life. I don’t get winded walking up stairs anymore. I’m wearing clothes that I couldn’t wear even when I weighed less. The scale isn’t moving so quickly these days, but I am okay with that for the most part—a pound of muscle weighs the same as a pound of fat, but it sure looks different! In the year since we’ve started Group Fitness classes at the Y, I’ve lost 30 pounds and more than 14 inches. I feel incredible. And while this is more of an “In progress” picture than an “After” one, I definitely consider myself a success story!
~The Hubster~
The Group Fitness classes at the Y have helped me on many levels. First, they have given my fitness plan a sense of direction. Before doing classes like Turbo Kick and Body Pump, my fitness plan was nonexistent. I would come and ride the bike or lift weights or run on the treadmill. But I had no real sense of direction, no end purpose or goals.
After doing my first Turbo Kick class, I was definitely hooked. Even though I was making a lot of mistakes, I was having a good time. Then I ventured into Body Pump. I had done some power lifting in high school, so I had the basic idea of what I was doing there. It was just a matter of regaining proper form and getting my strength back.
Which leads me into another thing that the Group Fitness classes have done for me; they taught me that I have the capacity to learn new things. They may not sink in right away, but I’ll get it over time. What I really appreciate is that the instructors take time to make sure that you are doing things the right way. They do it even if it means taking time after class to answer your questions and walk you through things so you understand them.
The one side benefit of the group classes is the camaraderie. Even though you are all in class working and sweating your way to a new you, there are really cool people there to encourage you. Both my wife and I have made many new friends since joining the classes.
If you would’ve told me a year ago that I’d be leaner, stronger, more confident and in the best shape I’ve been in since college, I probably would’ve laughed. But here I am now, stronger both physically and emotionally. My clothes also fit me a lot better. And yes, I am in the best shape I’ve been in since college, which was about 20 years ago.
In fact, if you would’ve told me a year ago that I would’ve completed a sprint triathlon, chances are that I would’ve questioned your sanity. But guess what? Not only did I complete my first triathlon, I’m looking forward to doing more of them in the future! In fact, I’m actually looking forward to training for the next triathlon season.
The Group Fitness classes have also shown me that a new body doesn’t just happen by snapping my fingers and hoping a genie will come out and grant me a wish for a leaner, stronger body. I actually had to work for it. And so far, the work is paying off. In the last year I have lost close to 20 pounds. I’m not quite where I want to be, but I’m well on my way. And thanks to the guidance of instructors like Jennie, Beth, Julie, and Sarah, I know the direction that will get me there.
~FLP~
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes...
I went to a park this weekend with a girlfriend of mine from high school. We've been chatting on Facebook and we have a standing Biggest Loser Date every Tuesday during the season--FYI, it starts again this Tuesday! We've been meaning to get together, but kids and life often get in the way and we usually end up just talking about how we should get together. (I'm not the only one who does this, am I?) She sent me a message on Friday, wanting to know what we were doing this weekend. I had a million plans and wasn't thrilled at the idea of trying to cram in even one extra thing.
Saturday morning, we hit the Y for Turbo Kick and Body Pump--it's my favorite way to start the weekend! Came home and made my Gramma's dip for a party that night and started reviewing exactly what I needed to do that day. I didn't feel like doing any of it, though, so I picked up the phone and called my Biggest Loser Date, asking if she was still in town, and if she still wanted to get together.
An hour later, we met up at a park. (It was just that easy! Why on earth didn't we do it sooner???) We had a great time chatting and catching up on the last ten years while the kids played. Before we left, I handed Big Sister my camera to take a picture of the two of us. She got a pretty good one, along with a few not-so-good ones...and she somehow snapped this completely random picture of, what else? The back of my arm.
I was surprised to see it, but even more shocked when I compared it to another picture of the back of my arm. So, it's not perfect. I'm not winning any contests. But it's something. And it thrills me.
Saturday morning, we hit the Y for Turbo Kick and Body Pump--it's my favorite way to start the weekend! Came home and made my Gramma's dip for a party that night and started reviewing exactly what I needed to do that day. I didn't feel like doing any of it, though, so I picked up the phone and called my Biggest Loser Date, asking if she was still in town, and if she still wanted to get together.
An hour later, we met up at a park. (It was just that easy! Why on earth didn't we do it sooner???) We had a great time chatting and catching up on the last ten years while the kids played. Before we left, I handed Big Sister my camera to take a picture of the two of us. She got a pretty good one, along with a few not-so-good ones...and she somehow snapped this completely random picture of, what else? The back of my arm.
I was surprised to see it, but even more shocked when I compared it to another picture of the back of my arm. So, it's not perfect. I'm not winning any contests. But it's something. And it thrills me.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Reasons
Shortly before joining Weight Watchers last year, I read an article about writing to help weight loss. The woman who wrote the article took some time every morning to write--not type--about how she was feeling, her plans for the day, etcetera. Writing helped her be more in control of her choices, hence the weight loss.
Since I like to write...and I like to lose weight...I decided it would be worth a shot. I'm kind of pressed for time in the mornings, so I decided to write at night, before turning out the light and going to bed.
While flipping through notebooks earlier today, I found the one I had used. I enjoyed the time I spent writing, though I don't know if it would have helped me lose weight. (Maybe if I had given it more than three days...) Reading my words reminded me of why I'm doing this.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
I went to a Halloween party last night. It was supposed to be fun--an evening full of friends and laughter. I had a good time, but there were tears behind every smile.
My husband dressed as Richard Simmons and it was our plan that I would be one of his groupies--a fat lady in a sweatsuit, huge stretch, right? In the thrift store, we laughed at the gigantic pants, pulling them at the waist, wondering if both of us could fit inside.
When it was time to get ready for the party, I pulled on the comically large pants. The elastic barely stretched over my hips and the front seam divided my huge stomach into two sections...like I had another ass in front of me. When I sat down, it became evident that I wouldn't be wearing those pants all night. I set off to Walmart in search of something more comfortable. I cried in the car, wondering how things have gotten so out of hand.
At the party, we were surrounded by cleavage, legs, and tramp stamps. When they voted for best female costume, I stood in my fat lady sweatsuit next to sexy police women, nearly naked angels, and a daring Mrs. Dracula. After the vote, we left. We were tired, my allergies were bothering me, and the depression was pressing on my chest with such force, I could scarcely breathe.
When I woke up this morning, I had one thought on my mind: BACON. A last meal of sorts. I've been thinking about joining Weight Watchers for a while now, and I've made the decision to do it. I've always thought that it was too slow or that it just didn't work for me, but the truth is that I've lost weight each and every time I've done it. (This will make my fourth...maybe fifth time joining.) I just have to make it work for me. It's got to be better than what I've been doing...which is nothing.
Tonight, I went upstairs to the workout room and walked on the treadmill. I fell off, of course, but I lasted about 25 minutes--I even jogged for 3 or 4 of them. I was aiming for 30 minutes, but my shoe was rubbing against my heel. I wore those things across 2 zoos and 4 amusement parks and didn't have a single problem, but put me on a treadmill and I end up with blisters. Exercise has always been hard for me, but this time, I'll do it, because I know it works.
I looked at pictures of myself from last night and from trick-or-treating the night before. I hardly recognized myself in the fat lady that stared back at me. It's time.
I'm proud of myself for sticking with the exercise...I was right--it does work. I remember that night so clearly, and the feelings that led up to the decision to change my life for good. It is time.
Since I like to write...and I like to lose weight...I decided it would be worth a shot. I'm kind of pressed for time in the mornings, so I decided to write at night, before turning out the light and going to bed.
While flipping through notebooks earlier today, I found the one I had used. I enjoyed the time I spent writing, though I don't know if it would have helped me lose weight. (Maybe if I had given it more than three days...) Reading my words reminded me of why I'm doing this.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
I went to a Halloween party last night. It was supposed to be fun--an evening full of friends and laughter. I had a good time, but there were tears behind every smile.
My husband dressed as Richard Simmons and it was our plan that I would be one of his groupies--a fat lady in a sweatsuit, huge stretch, right? In the thrift store, we laughed at the gigantic pants, pulling them at the waist, wondering if both of us could fit inside.
When it was time to get ready for the party, I pulled on the comically large pants. The elastic barely stretched over my hips and the front seam divided my huge stomach into two sections...like I had another ass in front of me. When I sat down, it became evident that I wouldn't be wearing those pants all night. I set off to Walmart in search of something more comfortable. I cried in the car, wondering how things have gotten so out of hand.
At the party, we were surrounded by cleavage, legs, and tramp stamps. When they voted for best female costume, I stood in my fat lady sweatsuit next to sexy police women, nearly naked angels, and a daring Mrs. Dracula. After the vote, we left. We were tired, my allergies were bothering me, and the depression was pressing on my chest with such force, I could scarcely breathe.
When I woke up this morning, I had one thought on my mind: BACON. A last meal of sorts. I've been thinking about joining Weight Watchers for a while now, and I've made the decision to do it. I've always thought that it was too slow or that it just didn't work for me, but the truth is that I've lost weight each and every time I've done it. (This will make my fourth...maybe fifth time joining.) I just have to make it work for me. It's got to be better than what I've been doing...which is nothing.
Tonight, I went upstairs to the workout room and walked on the treadmill. I fell off, of course, but I lasted about 25 minutes--I even jogged for 3 or 4 of them. I was aiming for 30 minutes, but my shoe was rubbing against my heel. I wore those things across 2 zoos and 4 amusement parks and didn't have a single problem, but put me on a treadmill and I end up with blisters. Exercise has always been hard for me, but this time, I'll do it, because I know it works.
I looked at pictures of myself from last night and from trick-or-treating the night before. I hardly recognized myself in the fat lady that stared back at me. It's time.
I'm proud of myself for sticking with the exercise...I was right--it does work. I remember that night so clearly, and the feelings that led up to the decision to change my life for good. It is time.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Date Night...
Not flowers and candy, followed by candle light, oysters, and hours of sex.
GIRL date night.
Catching up with my girlfriend--M, who LOVES her snazzy new nickname, by the way. Sitting and eating...God, delicious french fries, which turned out to be ENDLESS, but I only had one serving. We talked about several million topics and discovered that besides sharing a name, we have the same wedding band, the same fears, and that we are essentially the same person. We even dreamed about each other the other night--no funny business, we were competing in Iron Chef in mine and shopping at Walmart in hers...bizarre.
I had a fantastic time and hope we get to see each other more often!
I got home and discovered I'd have to walk a good two and a half miles to hit my step goal, so I hung up my pedometer at just over 5000 steps for today. (And Lindsay was out of the office today, so my beating stress phone consult got rescheduled.)
The greatest news of all is that I'm down FOUR more pounds for a total of 19!!!
The Hubster is rubbing my feet right now because they're freezing. What a guy...he must be confused as to what kind of date I had tonight.
GIRL date night.
Catching up with my girlfriend--M, who LOVES her snazzy new nickname, by the way. Sitting and eating...God, delicious french fries, which turned out to be ENDLESS, but I only had one serving. We talked about several million topics and discovered that besides sharing a name, we have the same wedding band, the same fears, and that we are essentially the same person. We even dreamed about each other the other night--no funny business, we were competing in Iron Chef in mine and shopping at Walmart in hers...bizarre.
I had a fantastic time and hope we get to see each other more often!
I got home and discovered I'd have to walk a good two and a half miles to hit my step goal, so I hung up my pedometer at just over 5000 steps for today. (And Lindsay was out of the office today, so my beating stress phone consult got rescheduled.)
The greatest news of all is that I'm down FOUR more pounds for a total of 19!!!
The Hubster is rubbing my feet right now because they're freezing. What a guy...he must be confused as to what kind of date I had tonight.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Confession Time.
I have a confession to make.
I haven't been wearing my pedometer. I know. You're shocked. I can tell.
Over the weekend, I decided I would be really good and wear it every day this week. Monday morning, when I was getting dressed, I grabbed it off the bathroom counter and clipped it to my pants...then I changed my pants.
Tuesday, I brought back into the bathroom to put it on as I was getting dressed. I didn't put it on, but carried it with me into the bedroom, where I stopped to put on some lip balm. Then I left the room without it.
Wednesday, I wore the damn thing. Today, I wore it again. WOW! Two days in a row...it's a miracle!
Wednesday, I walked 7679 steps and did Turbo Kick, which converts to 14,500. A total of: 22, 179 steps!
Today, I walked 5703 steps and did Turbo Kick for a total of 20,203 steps.
20K+ steps two days in a row? I could lay in bed and do absolutely nothing for the next two days and still get in my 10K steps a day average!
My next phone course is about beating stress. It's one I definitely need!
I haven't been wearing my pedometer. I know. You're shocked. I can tell.
Over the weekend, I decided I would be really good and wear it every day this week. Monday morning, when I was getting dressed, I grabbed it off the bathroom counter and clipped it to my pants...then I changed my pants.
Tuesday, I brought back into the bathroom to put it on as I was getting dressed. I didn't put it on, but carried it with me into the bedroom, where I stopped to put on some lip balm. Then I left the room without it.
Wednesday, I wore the damn thing. Today, I wore it again. WOW! Two days in a row...it's a miracle!
Wednesday, I walked 7679 steps and did Turbo Kick, which converts to 14,500. A total of: 22, 179 steps!
Today, I walked 5703 steps and did Turbo Kick for a total of 20,203 steps.
20K+ steps two days in a row? I could lay in bed and do absolutely nothing for the next two days and still get in my 10K steps a day average!
My next phone course is about beating stress. It's one I definitely need!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Numbers
I've always been ashamed of my weight. I lie about it on my driver's license. I refuse to be weighed at the doctor's office. I didn't own a scale for years.
The day I went to the doctor's office and found out I was pregnant--seven years ago, I weighed 247 pounds. A couple months later when I went in for my first OB appointment, I weighed 232 pounds. They yelled at me for losing so much. (Like I knew or could help it that I was throwing up every three seconds. Anyone else throw up in the doctor's office parking lot? That always seemed to be a good target for some reason.)
Over the next few months, I slowly gained back that 15 pounds. I never wanted the Hubster to look at the scale, but I know he did. (Sneaky bastard.) As I passed 247 and edged closer to 250, I got more and more nervous. I did not want to hit that number.
On what turned out to be my last OB appointment--the do-you-want-to-be-induced-in-3-days-or-in-7? appointment--I hit it. 250. I cried.
Six days after Little Sister was born, I had a wicked case of mastitis. I was throwing up in the shower sick. It was also her first doctor's appointment and I got on the scale, too. After having my seven pound, four ounce little bundle of joy, I weighed 230 pounds again. Very exciting. The doctor gave me some antibiotics and told me to keep breast feeding and said the weight would fly off.
It didn't.
230 became 250 again. 260. 274. That's the highest I ever weighed myself at, when I started Weight Watchers 3 years ago.
Those are numbers I will never see again.
274
260
250
A couple of people have asked me where I'm at now...and I know that I haven't been sharing the numbers this time around, for some reason.
It wasn't intentional. Just something I didn't think of. I'm not shy about my weight any more. I'm proud of where I've come from and what I've conquered.
When I started WW on November 3, 2008, I weighed 258.8 pounds.
At my last weigh-in, on Monday, I weighed 243.8.
More numbers I will never see again.
274
260
258.8
250
I'll never forget where I came from.
And I'll never go back.
Not this time.
The day I went to the doctor's office and found out I was pregnant--seven years ago, I weighed 247 pounds. A couple months later when I went in for my first OB appointment, I weighed 232 pounds. They yelled at me for losing so much. (Like I knew or could help it that I was throwing up every three seconds. Anyone else throw up in the doctor's office parking lot? That always seemed to be a good target for some reason.)
Over the next few months, I slowly gained back that 15 pounds. I never wanted the Hubster to look at the scale, but I know he did. (Sneaky bastard.) As I passed 247 and edged closer to 250, I got more and more nervous. I did not want to hit that number.
On what turned out to be my last OB appointment--the do-you-want-to-be-induced-in-3-days-or-in-7? appointment--I hit it. 250. I cried.
Six days after Little Sister was born, I had a wicked case of mastitis. I was throwing up in the shower sick. It was also her first doctor's appointment and I got on the scale, too. After having my seven pound, four ounce little bundle of joy, I weighed 230 pounds again. Very exciting. The doctor gave me some antibiotics and told me to keep breast feeding and said the weight would fly off.
It didn't.
230 became 250 again. 260. 274. That's the highest I ever weighed myself at, when I started Weight Watchers 3 years ago.
Those are numbers I will never see again.
A couple of people have asked me where I'm at now...and I know that I haven't been sharing the numbers this time around, for some reason.
It wasn't intentional. Just something I didn't think of. I'm not shy about my weight any more. I'm proud of where I've come from and what I've conquered.
When I started WW on November 3, 2008, I weighed 258.8 pounds.
At my last weigh-in, on Monday, I weighed 243.8.
More numbers I will never see again.
I'll never forget where I came from.
And I'll never go back.
Not this time.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Positive Thinking
I know I come across as kind of negative.
There are lots of things about myself that I absolutely hate.
My stupid, crooked nose.
My freckles.
My stomach.
I'm trying to be more positive about...things. About myself. About everything.
On that note, here are somethings that I like about myself. Things, I've decided, that I will think about more often.
I have the bluest eyes ever.
I have a nice complexion.
I have really, super thick hair.
That's enough for now...I'm having a hard time of thinking of things that don't have qualifiers. (I like my nails but they grow crooked because of damage to my nail beds when I was young.)
I'm trying to be positive. I know I can do this.
This time.
There are lots of things about myself that I absolutely hate.
My stupid, crooked nose.
My freckles.
My stomach.
I'm trying to be more positive about...things. About myself. About everything.
On that note, here are somethings that I like about myself. Things, I've decided, that I will think about more often.
I have the bluest eyes ever.
I have a nice complexion.
I have really, super thick hair.
That's enough for now...I'm having a hard time of thinking of things that don't have qualifiers. (I like my nails but they grow crooked because of damage to my nail beds when I was young.)
I'm trying to be positive. I know I can do this.
This time.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Guilt
I had my Weight Watchers meeting tonight.
I gained, which irritates the heck out of me since I worked so darn hard this past week. I know I'll do better, though...it's a process. (And it SUCKS!)
After the meeting, I went to the grocery store to buy a few taco necessities. As I bagged my tortilla shells, cheese, and sour cream, I realized that the woman standing in line behind me had just sat behind me at the Weight Watcher's meeting. Oh God, I thought. Please don't let her recognize me.
When she came down to bag her groceries (This is the only state I've ever lived in where I had to bag my own groceries!) she smiled at me. "Hello again." Damn.
"Hi..." I took in her case of water, bags of frozen veggies, and other WW paraphernalia. "Don't look at my taco stuff."
She laughed. "Don't worry. I won't tell."
It's Monday night and I've starved all day, hoping for a good number on the scale. If I want tacos, I'll have tacos, consequences be damned. (Until next Monday, that is, when I'm pissed about my weigh-in again.)
I gained, which irritates the heck out of me since I worked so darn hard this past week. I know I'll do better, though...it's a process. (And it SUCKS!)
After the meeting, I went to the grocery store to buy a few taco necessities. As I bagged my tortilla shells, cheese, and sour cream, I realized that the woman standing in line behind me had just sat behind me at the Weight Watcher's meeting. Oh God, I thought. Please don't let her recognize me.
When she came down to bag her groceries (This is the only state I've ever lived in where I had to bag my own groceries!) she smiled at me. "Hello again." Damn.
"Hi..." I took in her case of water, bags of frozen veggies, and other WW paraphernalia. "Don't look at my taco stuff."
She laughed. "Don't worry. I won't tell."
It's Monday night and I've starved all day, hoping for a good number on the scale. If I want tacos, I'll have tacos, consequences be damned. (Until next Monday, that is, when I'm pissed about my weigh-in again.)
Sunday, January 25, 2009
My Cup No Longer Runeth Over
I went shopping today.
It was awesome. I love spending time with old friends and catching up.
We went to LB and I got measured for a new bra--I went down TWO cup sizes! That's CRAZY! I never lose weight in that area. It was so exciting to be able to buy a bra at the store and bring it home instead of special ordering and having it sent to me. I also got some cute panties (I love that word!) and a nice shirt--because some of mine are starting to look a little...sack-like. Between the two of us, we spent $105, but we SAVED $217--which is a way more important number!
We went into a couple of other stores...I'm looking forward to being a weight where we can try on the same clothes. There were a couple of things she picked out that were really cute, but I knew I could never squeeze into them. Some day...sooner, rather than later, I hope.
I made it to the shoe store, too. I grabbed a handful of shoes in different styles to try on and sat down. KB scouted the store and then came to check on me. She told me she saw a bunch of tennis shoes on clearance and asked if she should bring some over. She returned with a huge stack of boxes, which I sorted through and sent some of them back with her. I ended up with two pairs--some New Balance runners, which are suspiciously like my old ones, but pink, and a pair of VERY comfortable Dr. Scholl's walking shoes.
The best part is, when I got home, I slipped on my new running shoes and headed upstairs to the workout room. I walked a faster pace for 10 minutes, then did some weights, then walked a slower pace at a level 6 incline--my booty is killing me! I did some more weights and then came home.
I'm nervous about tomorrow's weigh-in. I try not to obsess about the scale during the week, but it's hard not to step up there a few timesa day. This morning, I weighed a full NINE pounds more than I did last Monday night. We ate Chinese food last night, but I certainly didn't eat NINE pounds of it. What's the deal?
It was awesome. I love spending time with old friends and catching up.
We went to LB and I got measured for a new bra--I went down TWO cup sizes! That's CRAZY! I never lose weight in that area. It was so exciting to be able to buy a bra at the store and bring it home instead of special ordering and having it sent to me. I also got some cute panties (I love that word!) and a nice shirt--because some of mine are starting to look a little...sack-like. Between the two of us, we spent $105, but we SAVED $217--which is a way more important number!
We went into a couple of other stores...I'm looking forward to being a weight where we can try on the same clothes. There were a couple of things she picked out that were really cute, but I knew I could never squeeze into them. Some day...sooner, rather than later, I hope.
I made it to the shoe store, too. I grabbed a handful of shoes in different styles to try on and sat down. KB scouted the store and then came to check on me. She told me she saw a bunch of tennis shoes on clearance and asked if she should bring some over. She returned with a huge stack of boxes, which I sorted through and sent some of them back with her. I ended up with two pairs--some New Balance runners, which are suspiciously like my old ones, but pink, and a pair of VERY comfortable Dr. Scholl's walking shoes.
The best part is, when I got home, I slipped on my new running shoes and headed upstairs to the workout room. I walked a faster pace for 10 minutes, then did some weights, then walked a slower pace at a level 6 incline--my booty is killing me! I did some more weights and then came home.
I'm nervous about tomorrow's weigh-in. I try not to obsess about the scale during the week, but it's hard not to step up there a few times
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
This is SO Not Helpful
| You Are Destined to Struggle With Your Weight |
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Sunday, November 25, 2007
The Best Laid Plans
"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry." (Robert Burns)
I had plans today. Plans that included getting up, choosing from one of my many, many (many!) exercise DVDs, working out, and then taking a refreshing shower.
My plans did not include the migraine that woke me up, the vomiting that arrived with the migraine, the wicked case of vertigo that took me off my feet, or the several hour long nap I took a few minutes after getting out of bed.
It's hours and hours later, and I'm just now starting to feel like myself again.
"Plans are only good intentions unless they immediately degenerate into hard work."
(Peter Drucker)
I had plans today. Plans that included getting up, choosing from one of my many, many (many!) exercise DVDs, working out, and then taking a refreshing shower.
My plans did not include the migraine that woke me up, the vomiting that arrived with the migraine, the wicked case of vertigo that took me off my feet, or the several hour long nap I took a few minutes after getting out of bed.
It's hours and hours later, and I'm just now starting to feel like myself again.
"Plans are only good intentions unless they immediately degenerate into hard work."
(Peter Drucker)
Monday, November 05, 2007
Up and at 'em
Even if I miss my alarm(s) in the morning, the sound of the front door opening is sure to get me out of bed in a heartbeat.
Not because I think there's an intruder, and I'm worried for the safety of my family--no, I know that it's the Hubster returning from delivering the paper.
No, I haul ass out of bed because if I don't, and the Hubster comes in to wake me up, he'll get fresh with me. That's right. FRESH. And I love him, I do. But when I just woke up and I'm not quite coherent yet, I don't need or want him climbing into bed with up to feel me up or kiss me awake. Sometimes he's sweaty. Sometimes he had morning breath. Sometimes I have morning breath--and he may not care about it, but I do.
So this morning, when I heard the front door open, I jumped out of bed, not realizing that my alarm hadn't even gone off yet. (Okay, my early early one did, but I slept right through it.) After going to the bathroom and donning a bra, I exited the bedroom, surprising the Hubster, who had gotten up early because of "the time change," and then finished early as well. "Good," I told him. "Now we can exercise."
We did, too. 15 minutes of Pilates is better than 0 minutes, right? This was my third consecutive day of at least a little bit of exercise, and I'm feeling pretty proud of myself.
Rock on.
Not because I think there's an intruder, and I'm worried for the safety of my family--no, I know that it's the Hubster returning from delivering the paper.
No, I haul ass out of bed because if I don't, and the Hubster comes in to wake me up, he'll get fresh with me. That's right. FRESH. And I love him, I do. But when I just woke up and I'm not quite coherent yet, I don't need or want him climbing into bed with up to feel me up or kiss me awake. Sometimes he's sweaty. Sometimes he had morning breath. Sometimes I have morning breath--and he may not care about it, but I do.
So this morning, when I heard the front door open, I jumped out of bed, not realizing that my alarm hadn't even gone off yet. (Okay, my early early one did, but I slept right through it.) After going to the bathroom and donning a bra, I exited the bedroom, surprising the Hubster, who had gotten up early because of "the time change," and then finished early as well. "Good," I told him. "Now we can exercise."
We did, too. 15 minutes of Pilates is better than 0 minutes, right? This was my third consecutive day of at least a little bit of exercise, and I'm feeling pretty proud of myself.
Rock on.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Do you know what this is?
I don't think I ever would have guessed it.It's my arm.
I was standing in the hallway, watching my kids trick or treat when the Hubster snapped this picture. Disgusting. Is the back of my arm really so...fat?
Then I remember. I'm fat. I'm a fat lady, remember? (I'm the one who sings. This is where I park.)
But my God...how often do I see the back of my arms? I had no idea they looked like THAT!
Fat arms.
Fat legs.
Fat hands.
Fat feet.
Fat face.
Fat butt.
Fat stomach.
Fat back.
Fat Lady.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
This Girl
I love this girl.
This girl laughs so hard, she cries.
She talks so much, her mouth gets dry.
She doesn't care that she's fat.
She doesn't hide behind her weight.
She doesn't hate everything about herself.
She doesn't come around very often, but I saw her today.
And I captured her in this photograph.
And I wish...that I could be this girl more often.
I love this girl.
Monday, October 15, 2007
I'm on a Roll...
Or rather, the rolls are on me. And I'm SICK of them.
Could tomorrow be the day?
My doctor suggested I might have an eating disorder, which I kind of blew off...but I think she might be right. She said she would give me an appetite suppressant, but really, I don't eat because I'm hungry...I eat because I want to eat. Not a good sign, is it? She recommended a few, more costly programs, but then suggested Over eater's Anonymous. That's free, right? I pulled up their website tonight...they had a meeting 4 hours ago, which I missed, of course...but I'm kind of freaking out right about now. (Honesty is the best policy, right?)
Are You a Compulsive Over eater?
Welcome to Over eaters Anonymous. This series of questions may help you determine if you are a compulsive over eater.
Do you eat when you're not hungry?
Yes. Every day. All the time.
Do you go on eating binges for no apparent reason?
Yes. Sometimes I have a reason...not a good one, probably, but a reason, nonetheless. Most of the time, though, it's just eating.
Do you have feelings of guilt and remorse after overeating?
Yes. God, all the time.
Do you give too much time and thought to food?
Yes. I call it menu planning...but I think about food constantly.
Do you look forward with pleasure and anticipation to the time when you can eat alone?
Yes. Because I don't want people to judge me on what I'm eating, so I hide it.
Do you plan these secret binges ahead of time?
Yes...
Do you eat sensibly before others and make up for it alone?
Sometimes.
Is your weight affecting the way you live your life?
Yes.
Have you tried to diet for a week (or longer), only to fall short of your goal?
All the time. Every day. Every moment for the last 20 years.
Do you resent others telling you to "use a little willpower" to stop overeating?
No, but I've never had anyone tell me that...except for my doctor. (And I resented it.)
Despite evidence to the contrary, have you continued to assert that you can diet "on your own" whenever you wish?
Yes.
Do you crave to eat at a definite time, day or night, other than mealtime?
Not necessarily.
Do you eat to escape from worries or trouble?
Yes. (Does it help? No--but that doesn't mean I stop trying.)
Have you ever been treated for obesity or a food-related condition?
See my post on fat lady problems. I'm currently considered pre-diabetic and suffer from PCOS.
Does your eating behavior make you or others unhappy?
Me. Me. Me. It's makes me unhappy.
Have you answered yes to three or more of these questions? If so, it is probable that you have or are well on your way to having a compulsive overeating problem.
I'm freaking out. I'm scared to go alone...but I need help. (You hear that? I need HELP!)
Could tomorrow be the day?
My doctor suggested I might have an eating disorder, which I kind of blew off...but I think she might be right. She said she would give me an appetite suppressant, but really, I don't eat because I'm hungry...I eat because I want to eat. Not a good sign, is it? She recommended a few, more costly programs, but then suggested Over eater's Anonymous. That's free, right? I pulled up their website tonight...they had a meeting 4 hours ago, which I missed, of course...but I'm kind of freaking out right about now. (Honesty is the best policy, right?)
Are You a Compulsive Over eater?
Welcome to Over eaters Anonymous. This series of questions may help you determine if you are a compulsive over eater.
Do you eat when you're not hungry?
Yes. Every day. All the time.
Do you go on eating binges for no apparent reason?
Yes. Sometimes I have a reason...not a good one, probably, but a reason, nonetheless. Most of the time, though, it's just eating.
Do you have feelings of guilt and remorse after overeating?
Yes. God, all the time.
Do you give too much time and thought to food?
Yes. I call it menu planning...but I think about food constantly.
Do you look forward with pleasure and anticipation to the time when you can eat alone?
Yes. Because I don't want people to judge me on what I'm eating, so I hide it.
Do you plan these secret binges ahead of time?
Yes...
Do you eat sensibly before others and make up for it alone?
Sometimes.
Is your weight affecting the way you live your life?
Yes.
Have you tried to diet for a week (or longer), only to fall short of your goal?
All the time. Every day. Every moment for the last 20 years.
Do you resent others telling you to "use a little willpower" to stop overeating?
No, but I've never had anyone tell me that...except for my doctor. (And I resented it.)
Despite evidence to the contrary, have you continued to assert that you can diet "on your own" whenever you wish?
Yes.
Do you crave to eat at a definite time, day or night, other than mealtime?
Not necessarily.
Do you eat to escape from worries or trouble?
Yes. (Does it help? No--but that doesn't mean I stop trying.)
Have you ever been treated for obesity or a food-related condition?
See my post on fat lady problems. I'm currently considered pre-diabetic and suffer from PCOS.
Does your eating behavior make you or others unhappy?
Me. Me. Me. It's makes me unhappy.
Have you answered yes to three or more of these questions? If so, it is probable that you have or are well on your way to having a compulsive overeating problem.
I'm freaking out. I'm scared to go alone...but I need help. (You hear that? I need HELP!)
Sunday, August 26, 2007
The "D" Word, the Other "D" Word, and the "S" Word.
I had my yearly physical last week. I'd been looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time... you know how it is.
I really, really like my doctor. While I can't say exactly WHY I chose her, I can say that I knew she would help me do something about my weight. She's always been honest with me and I don't have to worry about her sugar coating it for me. I also don't have to worry about her telling me all my problems are weight related. (I HATE that!)
Two years ago, we were discussing my weight (I was crying, of course,) and she asked me, "Have you ever considered weight loss surgery?"
I looked at her, shocked and said, "I guess I didn't think I was that...far gone."
In her brutally honest way, she told me the truth. "You are. At your weight, you'd certainly qualify."
I was stunned. I thought that surgery was only an option for people who had far more to lose than I did. Was I really that overweight?
Yes. I was. I weighed 274 pounds. 274! Every time I think about that number, I just shudder. I can't believe it had grown so high. And SURGERY? I couldn't handle the thought. I told her I wanted to do it on my own. I thought I could.
I still think I can. But now I'm not so sure.
As for the words...
Diabetes. My blood sugar was high again this year. Not REALLY high--in fact, only 3 points above normal, but it's the third year in a row I've been high. I was dreading that call telling me I'd developed diabetes. Luckily, I didn't get it. She did bring up the term "borderline," though. I laughed and said, "I thought diabetes was like pregnancy; you either have it, or you don't." She laughed right back and said that it is, but just like you can have pregnancy scares, you can have diabetes scares, too. Next year, my glucose might be high enough to make an official diagnosis. Time to do something about it.
Diet Pills. This was the first year she offered me diet pills, which surprised me. I'm worried she thinks I can't do this on my own, and it's making me start to doubt myself. I turned down two pills that would "help block fat absorption," (read: give me diarrhea) and one appetite suppressant. I don't eat because I'm hungry...I eat because I want to eat. So now she thinks I might be a compulsive over eater...and I think she's right about that. I'm looking into it. I'm giving myself 6 months. If I can't get myself under control, I'll rethink the diet pills.
Surgery. The thought scares me to tears, really. I know several people who have gone through with it and several more who are considering it. Some really needed it for health reasons. Some, I think, saw it as an easy, lazy way out. I know there are different options, and it's not nearly as dangerous as it used to be, but still... If I haven't made significant improvement and I'm not well on my way to a healthier life in two years...then I'll consider it.
I think I can do it. I hope so, anyway.
I really, really like my doctor. While I can't say exactly WHY I chose her, I can say that I knew she would help me do something about my weight. She's always been honest with me and I don't have to worry about her sugar coating it for me. I also don't have to worry about her telling me all my problems are weight related. (I HATE that!)
Two years ago, we were discussing my weight (I was crying, of course,) and she asked me, "Have you ever considered weight loss surgery?"
I looked at her, shocked and said, "I guess I didn't think I was that...far gone."
In her brutally honest way, she told me the truth. "You are. At your weight, you'd certainly qualify."
I was stunned. I thought that surgery was only an option for people who had far more to lose than I did. Was I really that overweight?
Yes. I was. I weighed 274 pounds. 274! Every time I think about that number, I just shudder. I can't believe it had grown so high. And SURGERY? I couldn't handle the thought. I told her I wanted to do it on my own. I thought I could.
I still think I can. But now I'm not so sure.
As for the words...
Diabetes. My blood sugar was high again this year. Not REALLY high--in fact, only 3 points above normal, but it's the third year in a row I've been high. I was dreading that call telling me I'd developed diabetes. Luckily, I didn't get it. She did bring up the term "borderline," though. I laughed and said, "I thought diabetes was like pregnancy; you either have it, or you don't." She laughed right back and said that it is, but just like you can have pregnancy scares, you can have diabetes scares, too. Next year, my glucose might be high enough to make an official diagnosis. Time to do something about it.
Diet Pills. This was the first year she offered me diet pills, which surprised me. I'm worried she thinks I can't do this on my own, and it's making me start to doubt myself. I turned down two pills that would "help block fat absorption," (read: give me diarrhea) and one appetite suppressant. I don't eat because I'm hungry...I eat because I want to eat. So now she thinks I might be a compulsive over eater...and I think she's right about that. I'm looking into it. I'm giving myself 6 months. If I can't get myself under control, I'll rethink the diet pills.
Surgery. The thought scares me to tears, really. I know several people who have gone through with it and several more who are considering it. Some really needed it for health reasons. Some, I think, saw it as an easy, lazy way out. I know there are different options, and it's not nearly as dangerous as it used to be, but still... If I haven't made significant improvement and I'm not well on my way to a healthier life in two years...then I'll consider it.
I think I can do it. I hope so, anyway.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
The Water Thing...
Life has been hectic...but moving on.
A friend of mine passed on some good advice from her doctor. What you do is take your body weight in pounds, and half that. That number is how many ounces of water you should drink every day. Believe it or not, I've heard that advice before, I just can't remember where.
So, I weigh roughly 240 pounds right now, which means I should be drinking 120 ounces of water a day. That's A LOT of water. But it's not as hard as I thought it would be.
I've actually been drinking a whole gallon of water a day, which is about 128 ounces, for the past week. I'm feeling pretty good about myself, too. There was one day that I just couldn't stomach it all, but I made up for it the next day.
On Monday, I took a gallon jug of water to work and filled up a glass all day. The next day, I brought another jug of water, and the empty jug from the day before. (I now carry a jug with me everywhere. It's borderline weird to open it in the car and take a swig.) I filled the empty and popped it in the fridge for the next day, and used the water I'd brought with me. Now I have two jugs at work, and I just carry the one I'm using that day and bring it back empty in the morning. What if I get thirsty before I get to work? Easy. I drink a 16.9 oz bottle of water, and fill it with water from the jug when I get there. Strange, I know, but it works for me. It's my system.
I've got half the people in my office doing the water thing. We're all having a great time in the bathroom.
I was worried about doing it at home today because I tend not too drink much at home--I'm not really sure why. So, this morning, I got out my sharpie and numbered water bottles 1-8. I actually drank8 bottles of water, a glass of milk, and half a glass of soda today. Wowie.
I weighed in at exactly 240 on Monday morning, and I've been going up and down all week--238 on Thursday, 243 on Friday. We'll see what the scale says come Monday morning.
A friend of mine passed on some good advice from her doctor. What you do is take your body weight in pounds, and half that. That number is how many ounces of water you should drink every day. Believe it or not, I've heard that advice before, I just can't remember where.
So, I weigh roughly 240 pounds right now, which means I should be drinking 120 ounces of water a day. That's A LOT of water. But it's not as hard as I thought it would be.
I've actually been drinking a whole gallon of water a day, which is about 128 ounces, for the past week. I'm feeling pretty good about myself, too. There was one day that I just couldn't stomach it all, but I made up for it the next day.
On Monday, I took a gallon jug of water to work and filled up a glass all day. The next day, I brought another jug of water, and the empty jug from the day before. (I now carry a jug with me everywhere. It's borderline weird to open it in the car and take a swig.) I filled the empty and popped it in the fridge for the next day, and used the water I'd brought with me. Now I have two jugs at work, and I just carry the one I'm using that day and bring it back empty in the morning. What if I get thirsty before I get to work? Easy. I drink a 16.9 oz bottle of water, and fill it with water from the jug when I get there. Strange, I know, but it works for me. It's my system.
I've got half the people in my office doing the water thing. We're all having a great time in the bathroom.
I was worried about doing it at home today because I tend not too drink much at home--I'm not really sure why. So, this morning, I got out my sharpie and numbered water bottles 1-8. I actually drank8 bottles of water, a glass of milk, and half a glass of soda today. Wowie.
I weighed in at exactly 240 on Monday morning, and I've been going up and down all week--238 on Thursday, 243 on Friday. We'll see what the scale says come Monday morning.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Could it be?
Is my "Is she pregnant?" pouch a little smaller than it was yesterday, or am I seeing things?
Maybe it's the migraine that woke me up this morning, but I think things might look a little, teensy, tiny bit different. Was it the Pilates from yesterday morning or the 30 seconds of 5 minute abs I did last night?
Maybe it's the migraine that woke me up this morning, but I think things might look a little, teensy, tiny bit different. Was it the Pilates from yesterday morning or the 30 seconds of 5 minute abs I did last night?
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