One of the best pieces of advice I got from a nutritionist whose time and expertise I completely wasted not so long ago was that when the emotional urge to eat hits me (it is the sudden craving that signals emotional hunger versus the slower, oncoming train version of physical hunger), I should "sit with my emotions" instead of acting on this hunger impulse. This concept goes against everything I have been doing for my entire adult life - but then again, one look in the mirror tells me that my current behavior needs serious revision. Perhaps there is some merit in what she says.
I'm no member of Mensa but I am smart enough to know that losing weight can be as easy as eating less and exercising more. But then there's that sixth toe of emotional hunger that I know I have but am reluctant to acknowledge. When (and if) I stop myself to consider whether I'm really physically hungry and the answer comes back no, then I really am forced to stop and wonder what is driving me. Food and the act of eating have become real comfort for me. And when I eat without thinking I am just fast-forwarding past these emotions that need to be confronted.
Forgive me while I go all psycho-babble here for a minute but for me, I think it all started revolving around my need to feel secure. When I was 1, my mother became very ill and my sibs and I were sent to live with another family for months. I gotta think that impacts a little kid pretty hard. Then when I was at the advanced age of 5, my parents thought I was becoming too dependent on my security blanket and took it away during naptime one day; never to be seen again. I remember exactly where I was and how hard I cried. Now that I'm 50 and have been forcing myself to take a really long hard look at myself (mercifully, no mirrors were involved, abused or injured during this process), I have discovered that in order for me to satisfy this need for security, I became a people pleaser. There was a great deal of comfort in people liking me and I was really good at it. But I spent so much time figuring out what other people wanted that I never stopped to figure out my own needs and desires. I never mapped out a life plan or set goals for myself. And so now I'm starting to do all the thinking I should've done in my 20's when I was simply flying on auto-pilot. Auto-pilot's great until it's time to land and then someone with experience has simply got to take over. Who knew I'd actually be held responsible for living my own life one day?!
Okay, okay...so I've been circling the airport for 30 years (I may be low on self-esteem and life plans but I do have a ton of stamina!) and it's time to land this thing. Problem is I'm at the wrong airport. Shit. It's just one goddamn thing after another, isn't it? I am a wife and a mother and have not held a professional-level job since the 90's. Some of this is good but most of it isn't. While I love being available to my son 24/7, I have sacrificed a lot by being out of the adult world (and by adults, I don't necessarily include other stay-at-home moms - much too big of a topic to go into now). The isolation is crushing. My interpersonal skills are limited to school administration, store clerks and other moms (way too many of the alpha dog variety) - none of these categories being my strong suit. So I've begun taking stock of my strengths (I do have some) and am forming some ideas about what I want to be when I grow up...but fat, underemployed and unhappy with my current station in life ain't it. I am less about pleasing others now and thinking about pleasing myself. It seems so selfish to the old people-pleasing gal of my past but it's exactly what I need to do for the rest of my life. This much, at least, I've figured out.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Ship Shape
The price of gas is going down and mercifully, so is my weight. Hey, 2 pounds may not sound like much to you but it is earthshattering to someone like me who for the past 5 years has convinced herself that weight loss was no longer in the realm of possibilities. It is....just with a whole lot of sweating and behaving like an adult.
I have discovered that the older I get the harder it is for my body to accept positive change. It has also been a shocking discovery that at this age my body will turn on me a lot faster if I fall out of that positive pattern. If I stop working out for a week or so (my preferred lifestyle), my body turns on me faster than Fredo Corleone did to Michael. It's just not worth it so I'm still doing 30 minutes of walking every day.
My husband tells me that I have nice curves. Yes dear, and the Titanic had a bitchin' ice maker but too much of a good thing can take a very bad turn. I feel a kinship with the Titanic in that my maneuverability is about the same. I have become very resistant to change but know that in order to survive (staving off diabetes, heart disease and keeping my apnea from suffocating me in my sleep) I have to turn this load around. I don't turn on a dime. Never did, never will. But I finally realized that I've been hitting the snooze button for far too long - like all during my forties. Fifty hits you right between the eyes when you haven't been paying attention for the past 10 years. In my forties, I always felt like I had plenty of time to tackle this....until I turned 50 and suddenly it occured to me how much time I have pissed away. No more. It's do or die. I am finally in Coast Guard mode and turning this ship around.
I have discovered that the older I get the harder it is for my body to accept positive change. It has also been a shocking discovery that at this age my body will turn on me a lot faster if I fall out of that positive pattern. If I stop working out for a week or so (my preferred lifestyle), my body turns on me faster than Fredo Corleone did to Michael. It's just not worth it so I'm still doing 30 minutes of walking every day.
My husband tells me that I have nice curves. Yes dear, and the Titanic had a bitchin' ice maker but too much of a good thing can take a very bad turn. I feel a kinship with the Titanic in that my maneuverability is about the same. I have become very resistant to change but know that in order to survive (staving off diabetes, heart disease and keeping my apnea from suffocating me in my sleep) I have to turn this load around. I don't turn on a dime. Never did, never will. But I finally realized that I've been hitting the snooze button for far too long - like all during my forties. Fifty hits you right between the eyes when you haven't been paying attention for the past 10 years. In my forties, I always felt like I had plenty of time to tackle this....until I turned 50 and suddenly it occured to me how much time I have pissed away. No more. It's do or die. I am finally in Coast Guard mode and turning this ship around.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The Magic 8 Ball Says - No Walking Today
All signs pointed to a day off from exercise today. The first thing was that I just wasn't into it - at all. Given that that is my standard modus operandi (didn't know I was bilingual, huh?) I pushed through it and went down to the basement to face my dreadmill. I'll admit it - I need to mix things up a bit but being of the non-spontaneous breed of humans, I need much more heads up time to mull it over.
My fan was unplugged. Strike 2 (it doesn't take much). My husband has this annoying knack of cleaning up behind me - sometimes performing such useless tasks as unplugging things that I use on a daily basis. When I bent to plug it in, I noticed that the cord to the dreadmill had been chewed through to the exposed wires! Little Miss Bunny and I need to have a talk. My first instinct was to take this as a "strike 3" for my walking routine and punch the clock. But Little Miss Bunny had only chewed through the extension cord of the dreadmill (damn you to hell!) and so I found a closer outlet (one that wouldn't pop the circuit breaker whenever the dehumidifier kicked on), plugged it in and began my personal Bataan Death March. Okay, I'm exaggerating but given that the weather is still very humid and my basement is one of only three in the Northeast that isn't cooler than the rest of the house, I noticed that my work-out space had developed its own little Phillipine-like weather system. I guess that's where the comparison ends. That and the fact that my sports bra is growing rice.
Maybe it was a combination of "Mustang Sally" and "My Prerogative" on my ipod that helped me get done with it. I think more than anything was the thought of not posting anything positive on this blog that kept me honest. In the past, I surely would've punted my work-out today based solely on the nuisance thought of not feeling like it. I've accumulated a lot of years of excuses and have always disappointed myself by letting my past failures dictate my future successes. I'm just supposed to be fat. It's easier to give up - and I'm disappointed to say that I've been taking the easy way out for a very long time. But turning 50 was a wake-up call. What will I look like and feel like in another 5 years (which are really like dog years after you turn 50) if I don't take care of this problem? I have not challenged myself in a very long time (not just about my weight) and it was too depressing to continue down that path. Challenges are hard but they make me feel more alive. And, I'm guessing here but, isn't that what life is all about?
My fan was unplugged. Strike 2 (it doesn't take much). My husband has this annoying knack of cleaning up behind me - sometimes performing such useless tasks as unplugging things that I use on a daily basis. When I bent to plug it in, I noticed that the cord to the dreadmill had been chewed through to the exposed wires! Little Miss Bunny and I need to have a talk. My first instinct was to take this as a "strike 3" for my walking routine and punch the clock. But Little Miss Bunny had only chewed through the extension cord of the dreadmill (damn you to hell!) and so I found a closer outlet (one that wouldn't pop the circuit breaker whenever the dehumidifier kicked on), plugged it in and began my personal Bataan Death March. Okay, I'm exaggerating but given that the weather is still very humid and my basement is one of only three in the Northeast that isn't cooler than the rest of the house, I noticed that my work-out space had developed its own little Phillipine-like weather system. I guess that's where the comparison ends. That and the fact that my sports bra is growing rice.
Maybe it was a combination of "Mustang Sally" and "My Prerogative" on my ipod that helped me get done with it. I think more than anything was the thought of not posting anything positive on this blog that kept me honest. In the past, I surely would've punted my work-out today based solely on the nuisance thought of not feeling like it. I've accumulated a lot of years of excuses and have always disappointed myself by letting my past failures dictate my future successes. I'm just supposed to be fat. It's easier to give up - and I'm disappointed to say that I've been taking the easy way out for a very long time. But turning 50 was a wake-up call. What will I look like and feel like in another 5 years (which are really like dog years after you turn 50) if I don't take care of this problem? I have not challenged myself in a very long time (not just about my weight) and it was too depressing to continue down that path. Challenges are hard but they make me feel more alive. And, I'm guessing here but, isn't that what life is all about?
Monday, July 21, 2008
Walk This Way
I wish I had the enthusiasm for walks that my dog does. Even in 90+ degree weather and rain forest humidity, he is practically jumping out of his skin to get going. Me, not so much. Today will be another treadmill day as I dislike having to cut a piece of air in order to breathe it, which is what's been going on since the beginning of summer. So I adjust.
For my main exercise I have chosen walking. I like gyms - I just don't like paying for gyms when I know that within 2 months I will be talked about in the past tense. Not to mention it's a little intimidating to be in the presence of so many fit and perfectly outfitted people. I have the biggest need to be there and yet always feel like I fit in the least. Why don't these people do their preening at some fern bar and leave the equipment to those of us who really need it? And while I'm at it, why doesn't someone make decent work-out clothes for fat people? The only thing that's being "wicked" away from me in my 1970's era sports attire is what little self-esteem I have left. This is why I don't belong to a gym anymore.
I'm lucky to have a great treadmill in my basement - and comforted in knowing that it's supported by a concrete floor and terra firma. Every woman my size should aim for full support. I wish I could say the same for my bra but that's an on-going project in itself. Perhaps I should seek government funding.
My walking essentials include:
I'll provide some others as I go along.
Some good news is that I'm starting to feel the effects of having walked 6 out of the past 7 days - 30 minutes at a time for now. It's not always easy. Sometimes I start out walking and it feels like I'm speaking a foreign language for the first time. I push through it altho it sometimes takes as much as 15 to 20 minutes for me to arrive at a comfortable gait. I guess it just serves as a reminder that activity is still not my normal state of being yet.
It's time for me to saddle up now and get the walking out of the way. If I wait too long I won't do it. That is one habit I still need to break.
For my main exercise I have chosen walking. I like gyms - I just don't like paying for gyms when I know that within 2 months I will be talked about in the past tense. Not to mention it's a little intimidating to be in the presence of so many fit and perfectly outfitted people. I have the biggest need to be there and yet always feel like I fit in the least. Why don't these people do their preening at some fern bar and leave the equipment to those of us who really need it? And while I'm at it, why doesn't someone make decent work-out clothes for fat people? The only thing that's being "wicked" away from me in my 1970's era sports attire is what little self-esteem I have left. This is why I don't belong to a gym anymore.
I'm lucky to have a great treadmill in my basement - and comforted in knowing that it's supported by a concrete floor and terra firma. Every woman my size should aim for full support. I wish I could say the same for my bra but that's an on-going project in itself. Perhaps I should seek government funding.
My walking essentials include:
-My iPod - this actually makes me look forward to using the treadmill - the music helps more than I ever thought possible.
-Crop length pants - something long enough that won't start that embarrassing hike up my thighs and draw further attention to their size. Also, be sure they are of flame retardant material in case thigh friction should create a spark.
-Johnson's baby powder - 'nuff said.
-Floor fan - creates the illusion that I'm actually moving faster than my typical 3 mph.
Some great work-out iPod selections (I'm currently in the mid-alphabet of my songs):
-"Gone At Last" by Paul Simon & Phoebe Snow
-"Heartache Tonight" by the Eagles
-"I'm Shipping Off to Boston" by The Dropkick Murphies
-"I Need to Know" by Marc Anthony (so good you could almost walk to it in stiletto heels)
-"I'm Your Boogie Man" by KC & the Sunshine Band
I'll provide some others as I go along.
Some good news is that I'm starting to feel the effects of having walked 6 out of the past 7 days - 30 minutes at a time for now. It's not always easy. Sometimes I start out walking and it feels like I'm speaking a foreign language for the first time. I push through it altho it sometimes takes as much as 15 to 20 minutes for me to arrive at a comfortable gait. I guess it just serves as a reminder that activity is still not my normal state of being yet.
It's time for me to saddle up now and get the walking out of the way. If I wait too long I won't do it. That is one habit I still need to break.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Forgive Her For She Knows Not What She Does..Or Says...Or Means...Or Eats
Dear God,
Please accept my sincere apologies for taking your name in vain for the past 45 minutes as I tore this house apart looking for my lost Weight Watchers manual. I recognize that you had nothing to do with it and that it was my own slovenly habits that caused it to be lost. That, and the fact that I feel I must hide things away so that my clean freak of a husband won't set it in what he feels is the proper place (I would appreciate a little help in that regard as well).
Given that we are made in your image, I realize how you may be slightly appalled at my interpretation of that and apologize for that as well. That's why I was looking for the f-ing thing in the first place. Also, please help me lose 25 pounds as easily as I lost this manual.
Amen.
Please accept my sincere apologies for taking your name in vain for the past 45 minutes as I tore this house apart looking for my lost Weight Watchers manual. I recognize that you had nothing to do with it and that it was my own slovenly habits that caused it to be lost. That, and the fact that I feel I must hide things away so that my clean freak of a husband won't set it in what he feels is the proper place (I would appreciate a little help in that regard as well).
Given that we are made in your image, I realize how you may be slightly appalled at my interpretation of that and apologize for that as well. That's why I was looking for the f-ing thing in the first place. Also, please help me lose 25 pounds as easily as I lost this manual.
Amen.
Pick Your Poison - Just Make Sure It Tastes Good
Weigh-in day and it's been another disappointment. Up .4 pounds. Quel surprise! I've been faithful to my food journal and good about getting at least 30 minutes of intentional exercise (experts agree: reclining is NOT considered intentional exercise, even tho it ends in "-ing") but it seems that the food part of the equation has not come together as yet. I seem to be cobbling together whatever food plan seems to strike me as reasonable at the moment - some low fat, some low carb, and some counting calories - but taken together it's just a mish-mash. This, I think, is the focus of my next attention convention.
Just as there are no guilty people in prison, I insist that I am not as big an overeater as my appearance would have you believe. I do not do Big Mac drive-thrus or eat an entire container of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey 2 minutes before bedtime. I indulge in fast food generally once a week and order a BK Big Kids meal (somehow the inclusion of a toy with the double cheeseburger negates the 1200 calories that I'm about to inhale) but that's about it. And, um, we usually have Chinese take-out once a week and my take of it is a spring roll, some fried rice with a puny and unidentifiable protein, and one traditional fortune cookie to finish. We've collectively sworn off the Peking Dumplings as I can almost hear my arteries slamming shut as I take a bite (that exclusion alone should lose me 5 pounds). If I needed to point to any one thing I guess it would be carbs in general - I love pasta, rice and bread and think I must be eating those in quantities too big for my metabolism. The other thing would be snacking at night that seems to be a big deal breaker for me. But sometimes I am legitimately hungry and a nutritionist I once frequented said I should eat when I'm physically hungry. I guess I should select a "good" food versus 5 artificially flavored ice pops.
So what's a fat mom to do? Time to slap some sense into me. I will try to curb the carbs and the nighttime eating. The exercise helps me on almost all levels (except with weight loss) as I'm sleeping better, feeling better and not yelling half as much as usual (something fat and unhappy moms also tend to indulge in).
I feel like I have slipped into that famous Seinfeld episode of George turning his life around simply by doing the opposite of what his natural inclination was. Same with me except in the opposite direction. I have begun a weight loss program only to gain more weight. But unlike my past, the writing and chronicling are serving to keep me on message. Normally by this time I would have thrown up my hands (with upper arms in full-flapping mode) and surrendered. Maybe writing about it will be the biggest difference of all.
Just as there are no guilty people in prison, I insist that I am not as big an overeater as my appearance would have you believe. I do not do Big Mac drive-thrus or eat an entire container of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey 2 minutes before bedtime. I indulge in fast food generally once a week and order a BK Big Kids meal (somehow the inclusion of a toy with the double cheeseburger negates the 1200 calories that I'm about to inhale) but that's about it. And, um, we usually have Chinese take-out once a week and my take of it is a spring roll, some fried rice with a puny and unidentifiable protein, and one traditional fortune cookie to finish. We've collectively sworn off the Peking Dumplings as I can almost hear my arteries slamming shut as I take a bite (that exclusion alone should lose me 5 pounds). If I needed to point to any one thing I guess it would be carbs in general - I love pasta, rice and bread and think I must be eating those in quantities too big for my metabolism. The other thing would be snacking at night that seems to be a big deal breaker for me. But sometimes I am legitimately hungry and a nutritionist I once frequented said I should eat when I'm physically hungry. I guess I should select a "good" food versus 5 artificially flavored ice pops.
So what's a fat mom to do? Time to slap some sense into me. I will try to curb the carbs and the nighttime eating. The exercise helps me on almost all levels (except with weight loss) as I'm sleeping better, feeling better and not yelling half as much as usual (something fat and unhappy moms also tend to indulge in).
I feel like I have slipped into that famous Seinfeld episode of George turning his life around simply by doing the opposite of what his natural inclination was. Same with me except in the opposite direction. I have begun a weight loss program only to gain more weight. But unlike my past, the writing and chronicling are serving to keep me on message. Normally by this time I would have thrown up my hands (with upper arms in full-flapping mode) and surrendered. Maybe writing about it will be the biggest difference of all.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Getting This Runaway Train Back On Track
Isn't it fairly typical of new diet behavior to have its peak enthusiasm at the beginning of its efforts? That's what I thought too. Except, it seems, in my case. Maybe I've just been stuck in my rut for too long that I think once one little thing falls out of place the entire day is shot to hell and this runaway train starts screaming down the tracks. Oh ye of little faith.
For the past two days I have allowed variations of my usual schedule to interrupt what I'm hoping will be more permanent positive lifestyle changes. I could've fit exercise into at least one of the days and better food choices into both - but I didn't. I've become way too relaxed about demanding better of myself - and being this overweight and disappointed in myself is the result. It's time for a little tough love.
Circumstances both within and out of my control are always going to be in flux. I need to be more mindful of that and plan ahead whenever possible. I think the next part of my self-improvement design is going to revolve around better planning: exercising early in the day (every day!) and preparing healthier foods ahead of time. I am a lousy planner but know that once I get into the routine of doing it for a week or so, it pretty much falls into place after that. Then I will need to be consistent - another one of my weak points.
Well, this has been a pretty boring post. Sorry. I really am spent from the last two days but wanted to get back on track before my typical apathy kicked in. "Fun with Flab" will return to its usual time and place very shortly.
For the past two days I have allowed variations of my usual schedule to interrupt what I'm hoping will be more permanent positive lifestyle changes. I could've fit exercise into at least one of the days and better food choices into both - but I didn't. I've become way too relaxed about demanding better of myself - and being this overweight and disappointed in myself is the result. It's time for a little tough love.
Circumstances both within and out of my control are always going to be in flux. I need to be more mindful of that and plan ahead whenever possible. I think the next part of my self-improvement design is going to revolve around better planning: exercising early in the day (every day!) and preparing healthier foods ahead of time. I am a lousy planner but know that once I get into the routine of doing it for a week or so, it pretty much falls into place after that. Then I will need to be consistent - another one of my weak points.
Well, this has been a pretty boring post. Sorry. I really am spent from the last two days but wanted to get back on track before my typical apathy kicked in. "Fun with Flab" will return to its usual time and place very shortly.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Failure is Not an Option...and yet I've Chosen it Anyway
Okay, so 2 days into this and I'm already feeling like I've lost before I've really begun to fight. This has plagued me for years and really sabotaged my efforts. I give up way too soon instead of pushing onward. And then I start calling myself a loser and engage in some really loser-ly behavior. I have already been a teenager and thank you very much, don't need another dose of that.
What got me started down this road was weighing myself this morning. I have decided to weigh myself every Friday - the usual end of the week. A payday of sorts if I've done everything right. So after two days of not exercising and having a mondo plate of mac and cheese last night, my weight was UP! What did I expect? Of course I, like the rest of this entitled generation of mine, expected something after doing nothing. Of course my weight was up - I didn't do the right things - or I should say all of the right things. I did continue to mark everything down in my food journal even though last night I caught myself going into a spiral.
Thursdays are the days when I travel 1 1/2 hours each way to visit my mother who has Alzheimers. We spend some time together and then I must be back to pick up my son at school or camp. He's too young to be left to his own devices. Thursdays usually leave me feeling depleted after seeing my once vibrant mother suffering the cruelties of this horrible disease.
But yesterday I got beaten down a little bit more than usual and resorted to some very old comforting techniques - turning to food to soothe me. A phone call the night before from a card carrying member of the overly entitled generation to inform me that my kid was beating up his kid (not true) at summer camp got me really riled. This arrogant jerk - and his kid, it appears - have much to learn about respecting and operating within boundaries and I told him so. Take it up with the couselor in the morning and don't ever call here again! Jerk! (Upon review, the camp backed up my son and Mr. A-hole's son was noticably absent. Way to set an example for A-hole Junior, pal.) Don't worry - I'm not holding my breath for an apology. But after the whole thing was over (don't worry - I know it's not really over - it's never really over with people like this) I still felt beaten down and deserving of a treat.
Old habits die hard I guess. But I must learn to lighten up on myself. It's not like I befriended a nazi or beat up a puppy. I made some bad food choices and must recognize it for what it is - nothing more and nothing less. And most important of all, I must not use the regret over those decisions as an excuse to give up. I must use those mistakes to learn.
One bad number on a scale is not going to ruin my day. Neither is some helicopter parent who thinks he's the smartest guy in the room and the rest of us have so much to learn from him. I seldom feel that any day is "ruined". I can always find some redeeming part of a bad day. The power of positive thinking. It's what I allow myself to think and be controlled by - and that is very much within my power. Loved ones will get sick - I can't control that. People will be jerks - can't control that either. I will continue to try to make the best decisions for myself - something else I can control. But if I screw up, it's on me. But I'll try to keep it in perspective.
What got me started down this road was weighing myself this morning. I have decided to weigh myself every Friday - the usual end of the week. A payday of sorts if I've done everything right. So after two days of not exercising and having a mondo plate of mac and cheese last night, my weight was UP! What did I expect? Of course I, like the rest of this entitled generation of mine, expected something after doing nothing. Of course my weight was up - I didn't do the right things - or I should say all of the right things. I did continue to mark everything down in my food journal even though last night I caught myself going into a spiral.
Thursdays are the days when I travel 1 1/2 hours each way to visit my mother who has Alzheimers. We spend some time together and then I must be back to pick up my son at school or camp. He's too young to be left to his own devices. Thursdays usually leave me feeling depleted after seeing my once vibrant mother suffering the cruelties of this horrible disease.
But yesterday I got beaten down a little bit more than usual and resorted to some very old comforting techniques - turning to food to soothe me. A phone call the night before from a card carrying member of the overly entitled generation to inform me that my kid was beating up his kid (not true) at summer camp got me really riled. This arrogant jerk - and his kid, it appears - have much to learn about respecting and operating within boundaries and I told him so. Take it up with the couselor in the morning and don't ever call here again! Jerk! (Upon review, the camp backed up my son and Mr. A-hole's son was noticably absent. Way to set an example for A-hole Junior, pal.) Don't worry - I'm not holding my breath for an apology. But after the whole thing was over (don't worry - I know it's not really over - it's never really over with people like this) I still felt beaten down and deserving of a treat.
Old habits die hard I guess. But I must learn to lighten up on myself. It's not like I befriended a nazi or beat up a puppy. I made some bad food choices and must recognize it for what it is - nothing more and nothing less. And most important of all, I must not use the regret over those decisions as an excuse to give up. I must use those mistakes to learn.
One bad number on a scale is not going to ruin my day. Neither is some helicopter parent who thinks he's the smartest guy in the room and the rest of us have so much to learn from him. I seldom feel that any day is "ruined". I can always find some redeeming part of a bad day. The power of positive thinking. It's what I allow myself to think and be controlled by - and that is very much within my power. Loved ones will get sick - I can't control that. People will be jerks - can't control that either. I will continue to try to make the best decisions for myself - something else I can control. But if I screw up, it's on me. But I'll try to keep it in perspective.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
On Your Mark.....
Okay, so if I'm going to be serious about this (as opposed to the other 1,012 attempts) I'm going to get started today. How many times have I said that; especially the night before as I was chowing down a fudge brownie just before bedtime; consoling myself that the day had been a complete loss so what difference would this little treat make? Might as well get as much of that bad eating in before I turn a new leaf the next day. Yeah, right.
Baby steps at age 50 might sound more than a little bizarre but it's one of the few things I've learned from years of battling the bulge. So instead of threatening myself by cutting off all treats and condemning myself to ab crunches and stair master regimens, I am going to start slow. The first thing I did last night before creating this blog was to order two weight loss books (you too?!) for companionship. In spite of what thin people may think, we fat people don't hang out with each other in pods, like whales, so I don't have many friends who need to do as much work on themselves as I do (that's PC for "fat"). Therefore, I thought it would be a good idea to have some company along for the ride - people who have been there, done that and actually succeeded. I've forgotten the names of the books right now but will add them later to give the authors their due.
The second thing I'm doing today is starting a food journal. It helped me a little while ago but as usual, I wasn't able to sustain such a positive activity and once again fell off the wagon. It sounds too simple to believe but it does serve to make me more conscious of what I'm eating and in what amounts. And when I am tempted to indulge, knowing I have to write it down takes about 50% of the fun out of it. Being responsible when I'm trying to be so irresponsible seems to negate the bad behavior most of the time. It is not foolproof, tho, but it does provide some level of accountability.
So that's it for today. I am not going to overwhelm myself with new rules and regualtions. Baby steps.
Baby steps at age 50 might sound more than a little bizarre but it's one of the few things I've learned from years of battling the bulge. So instead of threatening myself by cutting off all treats and condemning myself to ab crunches and stair master regimens, I am going to start slow. The first thing I did last night before creating this blog was to order two weight loss books (you too?!) for companionship. In spite of what thin people may think, we fat people don't hang out with each other in pods, like whales, so I don't have many friends who need to do as much work on themselves as I do (that's PC for "fat"). Therefore, I thought it would be a good idea to have some company along for the ride - people who have been there, done that and actually succeeded. I've forgotten the names of the books right now but will add them later to give the authors their due.
The second thing I'm doing today is starting a food journal. It helped me a little while ago but as usual, I wasn't able to sustain such a positive activity and once again fell off the wagon. It sounds too simple to believe but it does serve to make me more conscious of what I'm eating and in what amounts. And when I am tempted to indulge, knowing I have to write it down takes about 50% of the fun out of it. Being responsible when I'm trying to be so irresponsible seems to negate the bad behavior most of the time. It is not foolproof, tho, but it does provide some level of accountability.
So that's it for today. I am not going to overwhelm myself with new rules and regualtions. Baby steps.
Letting Myself Go
Somebody said that in order to be a good writer you must know your topic well. I'm fat and funny and very pissed off that I've let myself go this far. To that end, I know my topic VERY well.
I've been fat on and off for my entire life - but never more than about 20 or 30 pounds extra; until recently. Presently, I could stand to lose 75 pounds - easily. My first encounter with fat was that oh-so-elegant entry into puberty. I was the chubby middle child (with the good personality, mind you) set between two siblings of above average metabolism and quickly found out that life wasn't fair.
Fast forward to the past 10 or 15 years and that's when the serious weight trouble began. When I got married I was 5'6", a size 10 and about 140 pounds. But as the saying goes, "Once you've caught the bus, you can stop running." Talk about slamming on the brakes. It was a gradual thing at first but once the isolation and depression of being a stay-at-home mom in hostile environs kicked in, I was off to the races. Then I began having panic attacks and my doctor prescribed an anti-depressant which helped elevate not only my mood but my weight as well. By the time I realized that this particular medication had the nasty side effect of weight gain, I had already piled on 35 pounds - and just as I started cruising into peri-menopause country.
I have been off the meds for the past 2 years and was fully expecting the associated weight to melt away instantaneously. But it hasn't and I have been stuck at this level ever since. I am only 9 pounds less than my highest weight - which in 2 years' time is nothing to crow about. I have tried many, many diets but to no avail and wound up fatter than before. I KNOW the nutritional and exercise stuff - it's not a matter of educating myself about that - so it must be something more.
So here I am - at 12:45 a.m. - finally coming to the conclusion on a sleepless night that writing about my struggles might make more sense than probably qualifying for frequent flier miles if I were to join Weight Watchers just one more time. What have I got to lose?
I've been fat on and off for my entire life - but never more than about 20 or 30 pounds extra; until recently. Presently, I could stand to lose 75 pounds - easily. My first encounter with fat was that oh-so-elegant entry into puberty. I was the chubby middle child (with the good personality, mind you) set between two siblings of above average metabolism and quickly found out that life wasn't fair.
Fast forward to the past 10 or 15 years and that's when the serious weight trouble began. When I got married I was 5'6", a size 10 and about 140 pounds. But as the saying goes, "Once you've caught the bus, you can stop running." Talk about slamming on the brakes. It was a gradual thing at first but once the isolation and depression of being a stay-at-home mom in hostile environs kicked in, I was off to the races. Then I began having panic attacks and my doctor prescribed an anti-depressant which helped elevate not only my mood but my weight as well. By the time I realized that this particular medication had the nasty side effect of weight gain, I had already piled on 35 pounds - and just as I started cruising into peri-menopause country.
I have been off the meds for the past 2 years and was fully expecting the associated weight to melt away instantaneously. But it hasn't and I have been stuck at this level ever since. I am only 9 pounds less than my highest weight - which in 2 years' time is nothing to crow about. I have tried many, many diets but to no avail and wound up fatter than before. I KNOW the nutritional and exercise stuff - it's not a matter of educating myself about that - so it must be something more.
So here I am - at 12:45 a.m. - finally coming to the conclusion on a sleepless night that writing about my struggles might make more sense than probably qualifying for frequent flier miles if I were to join Weight Watchers just one more time. What have I got to lose?
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