A Change Up -- Sort of

Carle Weight Management closed last week, and I had been looking around for a program that would help hold me accountable, but not be quite so hospital driven. I've been doing a lot of cooking on my own, which is good (when it's dinners) and which is not so good (when it's cookies). It's not that everything doesn't taste fine, it's that I consume a lot more when desserts are in my house.

So, I needed to implement some environmental controls. I needed to take a look at what was in my cupboards and recognize that if there is a container of honey, I will devour it a tablespoon at a time on a LOAF of bakery bread in 14.2 seconds. If the honey isn't in the house. I don't touch MacTroll's bread. (Hence the reason I could never be vegan.) Anyway, you know you've hit rock bottom and that you have a trigger food when you're putting tablespoon after tablespoon on top of some lame 35 calorie Healthy Life wheat bread... and you've eaten 5 pieces because it's not feeding you want you want. But you also know that you can't dish out what you want, because you'd totally slam that entire loaf, which is a lot more than 175 calories total.

It's like if you use a lot of substitutes, you forget what the real thing tastes like. And the next time you reintroduce it, it's like having an orgasm. Food hits some very passionate parts of me, and it's been hard over the last few years recognizing that those emotional wants don't die out, just because you deny them for 9 short months. They stick around for when life hits you with mega change. And then you realize that in the most ideal situation, you were able to conquer the food cravings. But in a harder life situation, you caved -- some times. And it was enough not to gain it all back but to gain enough of it back that you're within 10 lbs of losing your Onederland status.

I didn't realize it had gotten that bad until today, when I showed up for the 7:30 a.m. Weight Watchers meeting. It's odd, really, being a person who has lost a ton of weight and showing up in a class where almost no one outside the leader has gone past the 10 percent mark. I kept that information to myself. I didn't learn anything new, but I did have someone weigh me, and I did recognize that feeling of wanting to do well versus beating myself up for messing up and then promising to start all over again the next day.

It helps when your leader was a WW drop out around 10 times before it finally clicked and she was successful. She's been keeping her weight off as long as I've been keeping the majority of my weight off. I have questions I want to ask her when I'm more comfortable. 

I'm going to probably switch to the Sunday 8:30 a.m. class down the road, just simply because I like not having to wake up at 6:30 a.m. to get there at 7:30 a.m. It's a bummer that the meeting place moved to the opposite end of town, but I'll live. I just can't walk or bike over the interstate overpass. I'm not comfortable with that.

I checked out their oatmeal because it was on sale, but when I saw that it had 39 percent fiber based on the added chicory root (inulin), I put it back. Holy cow, I would be passing gas all day long. I loved the HMR oatmeal, mostly because it had 60 percent of my day's worth of iron, and as a girl who can't ever have enough iron...I think I may order some packages online.

So, here I am with 25 lbs to get back off. It'll be interesting since I'm scheduled to have my surgery on both of the peroneal tendons in my right foot on Sept. 13, am force feeding a cat 4 times a day, have X-man underfoot for another month and am traveling twice, including a 3-day journey to Montreal. But I went with the plan that is the least restrictive about what goes into my mouth... so the choices regarding nutrition are entirely left up to me.

Okay, I'm wandering downstairs to cook some peas, carrots and tempeh with miso-almond sauce, which according to the recipe builder at Weight Watchers is 8 points per serving. It feels weird after dividing everything up into calories based on carbs, protein and fats on Loseit to suddenly just use these program numbers which are based on the same information (and fiber), but not really know what it means. I guess in a while it will be like visiting Canada. I can't remember how to convert the weather from F to C, but I know what the temperatures feel like when I'm there, so I don't leave unprepared for the weather.

The other odd part about this, is that I feel like I'm doing it by myself this time. Last time, I had a whole group of folks going about the same quest, except we all had much bigger numbers to lose. I don't feel quite as desperate this time. It's not all or nothing. It's just a kind of continual goal. It'll get there when it's ready to get there, and not a moment sooner. But I guess that's how life is working these days... Maya... California...Food... It'll turn out the way it'll turn out and all you can do is prepare, plan, execute and hope for the best.

Getting Back to the Roots

There was a time, not so long ago, when I could walk into a store, pull a pair of pants off a rack and fit into them in any store of my choice.

That's not true any more.

It is true that I'm not banished again (yet) to Lane Bryant or to Plus-Sized departments that (outside of Kohl's) are buried in back corners of large department stores or next to Maternity sections (Target).

Perhaps it's just that I came of age in the time of the just below waist boot cut jean, and this whole skinny/slim leg/legging/low rise/ultra low rise thing is beyond me. But as a woman who has ample fuel for running in her thighs, hips and ass those styles, which are everywhere don't fit me.

I usually do my shopping consignment via Karen's Kloset, but lately, most of the jeans over there have been very 20-something or 50-something focused when I'm there. It's either my lower abdomen is spilling over to what would graciously be called a muffin top or the waist of the jeans touches my sagging 35-year old breasts. Both are uncomfortable and angering.

Once more, I am working on self acceptance and trying to be comfortable in my own skin. This has never been an easy process for me, as I continually feel broken or not good enough. I play down my strengths thinking that talking about them makes me a show off. And I expect myself to put in Herculean amounts of efforts into things that I care about, but am often frustrated when I don't get the return from that investment of effort.

So, I sat in my car after visiting two stores and held back tears before wandering into Kohl's. There I did find three pairs of jeans, all in size 10. Two sizes above what my pants in my closet are. They fit and are comfortable. And they look okay, so I took them home, and I'm trying not to beat myself up about it. But I'm sad about it.

Freak sent me a link to this story at the NYTimes the other day that talks about a lot of what I'm finding about the difficulties of weight maintenance. That the most successful at keeping it off have a military edict about them. Very Type A -- there's no bending no flexibility and it's rough. That if I want to eat bread and if my body can't take running 25 miles a week because it keeps breaking, then I'm going to be this size... Because science is showing that a person who loses a massive amount of weight changes their body chemistry. Their hormones adjust and now where a normal person who was not obese before could maintain their weight at a certain calorie amount... a person who is trying to maintain after significant weight loss has to maintain at a much lower calorie amount.

The whole thing is a fight. And lately, I've been stuffing my face since the holidays not wanting to think about it. But now I am thinking about it... And it's hard.

Because although I'm keeping 75 lbs off, I don't look good. And I want to be healthy and look good. I want both. But I don't seem to have the energy to curb my behaviors for both. And that's heartbreaking --and scary.

At the very least, I accepted my inner brunette today. It makes my eyes look bluer, and I like it a lot.

Working It Out

This is the first week where I have managed to exercise every day this week since I got injured last May. It helps that Wednesday and this afternoon will be spent in the basement of Kari Gardner in session 2 of 6 of our personal training time together (and if you're reading her website, I am one of her "aging adult with a debilitating orthopedic condition" clients so don't think I'm going to have a body like an Athleta model or anything.). But the big news is that I'm back to running 3.5-4 miles on my "long" runs. It'll take another month or so, but I'm feeling like I might actually get back into having my long run be 7 miles, average run be 5 miles and my short run being 3 miles again. And it would be nice to move from 10 miles a week up to 15 miles a week, and then mellow out at running 20-25, which was my average before I started half marathon training last year.

The other nice news is that in the last four weeks, I was able to lose 7.7 lbs. I'm still "in the box" with Carle for another 8 weeks. My goal is to get back into that 160-165 lb range. So I'm 4.3 lbs away from hitting the high end of that range. I made it through Thanksgiving at Disney pretty well. I packed the meals and oatmeal (because I find it easier to travel without my Magic Bullet blender). I ended up eating out of the box (4 mini balls of falafel with a side salad) when I first got there because we were in such a rush to get to the parks that I forgot to eat some oatmeal before heading out. Then there was the issue that the hotel said they'd have a microwave available on their web site... but neglected to state it would cost me $35 a day. So, um, I just ate a lot of pasta fagoli cold. But I also went out of the box for a coconut mound from Babycakes, the Vegan bakery. It was a whole different kind of oral sex.

Other than that, the foot and back are doing well. I'm still taking 3 iron pills a day to keep my iron up, and will likely do that for life. I'm also on a B complex since I became a vegetarian. It's made me make much healthier choices eating overall, which is what I was hoping for. Now the next big challenge is that I have to bake 5 dozen cookies for a bake sale at work on Dec. 19-20. I guess I'm going to have to have X-man and MacTroll do my taste testing. And I'm quite sure they'll hate that. :-)

When 5 pounds becomes 15

Part of this whole healthy living journey has been a blessing. Every body likes to watch someone transform and accomplish something good for themselves. Some people use other people's successes as motivation, some people use it to beat themselves up. I guess it's part of the human condition. Joy, celebration, envy, jealousy, relief, stress... but at the same time, I'm feeling rather disappointed in myself because it's not like I don't know what to do, but putting my head in the game and getting on top of the issue feels a lot like being in the garbage compacter in Star Wars. The walls are closing in, there's a monster ready to suck me under down below and damn it, I'm wearing a long white dress and no bra. I guess it's good that at least my hair is up, right?

I've never been very comfortable with the idea of being a role model about anything in my life. And for a while, I'd tell my story, but people like weight loss stories to have a beginning and end, hence the success of The Biggest Loser. They like to watch someone literally transform into someone else. And then there are those folks, the Eeyore's of the crowd, that tune into the after articles or interviews with the folks who started gaining it back the minute they walked off the farm or ranch or whatever the hell they call it. So they can point and say, "See, it doesn't matter."

For some people, weight is nothing big. They like how they are. Me, I like fitting into my pants. And I haven't for a while. And I'm starting to look absurd in my stretchy clothes. I've also been avoiding going to my meetings out of shame. Nice, right? How can the thing designed to help you stay on track help you if you don't attend. Clearly, what I know is the right thing to do and what I'm actually doing do not line up.

And as sad as it is, my motivation to keep on top of things came from something in the Uncommon Goods catalog I got in the mail today.

"Fall seven times. Stand up eight." -- Japanese Proverb

Food plan is taped to the refrigerator door. Weighted vest is out for my walk after I drop off X-man at Lego Camp at the Savoy Recreation Center. Day 1 at 11 a.m. -- and so far so good. But I might need to check in on here with folks to keep myself going. Because lately, I'm fine through Thursday, and then I fall off the wagon. Let's see if I can fit back in my pants by the time the weather cools in October. Nice and easy -- five lbs at a time.

But I could use a lot of hugs of positivity...

Slow yo cause I like fro yo?

When you accomplish something great, people notice. They commend you. They tell other people about your success. They write editorials about how you've changed their lives. They use you as motivation to try and further their own successes. Strangers come up to you and want to know your secrets. You get invited to talk at weight management meetings. That "motivator" role is one that I have never been comfortable with in my life.

I won a young author award in the sixth grade. I was a decent volleyball and soccer player in high school. I was a very good student in college. I was an extraordinary student newspaper editor. I was a wonderful assistant after college and a kick ass media relations person. I turned out to be a well-connected college-professor to my students at Millikin. I won a Women to Know Award after being nominated by my friends in 2009, and most recently, I turned my life around in regard to my mental and physical health regarding my self-esteem and body size.

Somewhere a long time ago, I learned that I'm supposed to be humble. I'm supposed to blush away compliments about anything and everything. Doing something well, should be expected. Excellence is merely satisfactory. Not doing something well means that somehow you are broken or dysfunctional. And that which you're not stellar at -- and don't give a damn about -- you just ignore. For me, I could give a crap if I ever get back up on skis again. I'm okay with not hitting the slopes. Books by the fireplace in a cozy sweater are an acceptable winter vacation. But, if it's something I think I should be good at, and I'm not. That's a bit more difficult.

As I get older, there are less and less times where I beat myself up over failure. In fact, I know that every day I'm going to louse up something. It's just the way the world works. I won't always say my words right when I'm speaking or typing. It doesn't mean I have PPA or that I'm stupid. It just means that my head is moving faster than my mouth is. I might forget the physical sheet for kindergarten at home and have to rush back to get it before the doctor's appointment, but the world doesn't end if I'm 5 minutes late.

Worse than not being good at something though, is trying to do something you used to be good at, but suck at now. When I was in Maine, I played volleyball for 2 hours just about every morning we were there. The first day was terrible. By the last day, I was sore and bruised, but I had my rhythm down. I remembered how to overhand serve (even though it's not as consistent as it was when I was 16). I kicked ass on the passing. I had fun doing it. I could match up with a 21-year-old guy and take on 2 20-somethings, and 2 40-somethings and win 2 on 4.

But picking up something you were never good at, finding yourself randomly successful at it, finding joy in it and then watching your performance decrease, is painful. I had it when I got diagnosed with Degenerative Disk Disease last summer and had to stop running for 3 months. I'm much slower now than I was then, but I find a strange joy in running that I never imagined.

I wonder if artists have the same feeling when their interests shift. "I was so successful painting XYZ. But now that time is over and I want to try ABC, which no one likes or buys, but it comes from somewhere inside..."

At that moment you stand alone. No one notices your struggle. If they do, they don't say anything. Or if they do say things, it's interestingly exactly the wrong thing. Things like: No one wants to only hear about that. It's all you talk about. People don't want to be around that all the time.

Or maybe someone does want to hear about it, I'm so glad to see that it's not easy for you, because if it was, I'd feel so stupid that it is so hard for me. Unfortunately, when you're in a dark and twisty place, these people's humanizing comments are often over shadowed by comments like the former.

Or they'll wonder, why I can't seem to get myself under control. I just want you to be able to figure it out and be done with it and be happy.

Done with it = shut up about it. Done with it = there's an end to the struggle. In response, I suppress and suppress for months, until I'm driving from Tolono to Savoy today to go to my first Yo-lates class since 2003, and I hear this lyric from Ani DeFranco, "As bad as I am, I'm proud of the fact that I'm worse than I seem."

Lately, I've been afraid to admit that I'm having a lot of trouble with maintenance. My pants have slid back up a size, so I've been wearing a lot of stretch jeans or workout pants. Or brands that I know fit larger than most. Where I used to look lean and tone in my workout clothes, I now notice bulges spilling over at the hips and in the upper back. In November, I was at 160. Yesterday, I weighed in at 172. And yes, the anemia has a big part of it.

But another part of it is sadness. I'm sad that I don't have any energy. I've been lazy about preparing meals because convenience plays out easier for dinner time than cooking, so eating out got reintroduced this winter. I lost the energy to work out 60-90 minutes five days a week at a moderate to high range, not because I was bored or just didn't want to, but because I'm generally a bodily waste from noon on.

You might think that this is no big deal an that no logical person exercises that much. If you're naturally thin, it's really not a big deal. But if you've had massive weight loss, it's a giant deal, because my body -- doesn't mind getting bigger. It creates hormones that create urges to binge in celebration, in an effort to fulfill an emotional void or just in terms of wanting to feel normal.

It's abnormal not to eat out in America. It's abnormal to not eat processed foods. It's abnormal to have enough time to workout 60-90 minutes a day. It's abnormal not to have your kids meet up at a fast food joint.

When I reached goal post gall bladder surgery in February 2010, the goal was to stay 160 and below. By April, I'd moved back to where I was before surgery which was 160-165. In both ranges, I fit into large size 4 jeans a small size 6. I was a size 2-4 dress. I was there until fall.

When I became borderline anemic in September, and I decided 165-170 was fine. "I'll take care of it when they stop the bleeding issue..." Well, I thought they'd figure it out by January. And now we're a week away from April, when I should get my IUD... and that in itself will take 2-4 months to work, if it works. So, I need to stop thinking of my body's inability to store iron and make proteins and platelets as a short-term thing to put up with. Because I'm watching it destroy my hard work as I weighed in yesterday, for the first time since September 2009 at 172 lbs. That's not funny. The number can't just keep creeping up. 170 was my stake in the ground.

When I was obese, I used to snort and scoff over people who would complain about losing any amount of weight under 20 lbs. This was because before my period, I'd go up 5-10 lbs in a week. This number is often still true. But because I lost so much weight, I understand that the last 10 takes 10-12 weeks to get rid of, but can be put on over the course of a nice, weekend holiday trip with the family. That's three days of food fun with a 3-month payback.

Who wants to work that hard and why? I do. Because I think it's important -- for me, mostly for my back, particularly. It's not the clothing size that matters, but how I feel in my skin is vitally important. Right now, I feel bloated and disappointed in myself. There's so much information on people who gain back their weight and more after dropping tons of pounds. And I want to be one of the 3 percent that is the exception to that rule, but I am afraid, I'm not.

I get the sense that some of the people in my life would very much like that to happen to me though. Mostly, so they can a) stop hearing me talk about my weight issues and b) give themselves reasons why they shouldn't fret about their own situations.

And then there are the many relationships I have with other "biggest losers." I worry that they'll look at photos of me and notice the roundness and compare themselves to me with tisk tisk thoughts on their head (or worse, feelings of relief that the 10 lbs yo yo doesn't happen to them). I'm afraid, I'll become the one of the four that fails, that someone will see me as lazy and undedicated, even though I am putting in the effort.

I know, mentally, that maintaining weight loss is a giant lifelong journey. Lifestyle issue, etc. But I remember being pregnant after losing 50 lbs and saying to myself, "At least you're gaining weight eating healthy food rather than crap." I remember making the comparison between my pregnancy and others, "Well, at least I never made my husband go through a fast food drive through for me." Like somehow that makes me the better person as I went from 207 lbs to 275 lbs.

Rationalization is strong with this one.

A diabetic might realize she has diabetes and monitor her sugars every day, but if she doesn't change her diet or take her insulin correctly, all she's doing is watching her body fall apart. Similarly, with my anemia, I watch my blood counts come back ugly. I have to have a rest time in the afternoon to recuperate from nothing more than running errands, 15 minutes of weight training and a 45-minute Yo-lates class. Running any amount of distances, puts me on a couch or in bed at 7:30 p.m. I continue, because overall, it's better for me. If I stop, or if I go back to walking, I'd have to walk 90-120 minutes a day to match my 45-60 minutes of running or aerobics or biking. If I skip it, my body will revolt and I won't fit into my pants. And I'm not buying bigger pants.

In the last 4 weeks, I've avoided food journaling, because I didn't want to know what I was eating. I just knew I felt better when I ate. But, that's another bad habit, I know I have.

Last week, I started recording again. This week, I started planning and cooking again. I had to put an end to the anemic pity party and start managing my illness, as if it's not going to go away (even though I really hope it does).

I had to realize that all I have is myself. I stand alone, and it needs to be enough. Because this is my body. I was born with it. I'm going to die with it. But I've also got to take care of it, and I can't just eat the anemia away (if changing diet and adding supplements would have worked, we would have been out of the woods months ago).

But this is a constant battle. It's like going to work, as one maintaining blogger put it. I was relieved to find her blog, because so much that she writes about, the struggles she goes through, I go through. Yet, she gets up every morning and does her "job," and I do, too.

Because although I might be overly humble, I am also overly ambitious, crazy organized and wonderfully responsible. But that doesn't mean knowing I can do better isn't killing me.

Reality Bites

I totally got schooled today in Weight Management. If I haven't gushed about her before, I totally love my health educator, Amy. She is an awesome combination of support and ass kicking. And today, collectively, she did a wonderfully motivating segment on getting your shit together.

It was awesome, and all of us needed to hear it. Well -- those of us that were brave enough to show up and weigh in post holiday-massacre.  For that, we all got gold stars. We were all there to suck it up.

We left on a mission, which is my most favorite way to attack any ho hum issue in my life. You know how much I love feeling like I'm in control of my destiny.

For some reason when I think of the word destiny, all I think of is George McFly.

Mmm, does that make Amy my Marty or my Biff? Either way, I'll make like a tree and get outta here. :-P

Feeling Like a Rock Star

I had a stupid good weight loss week this week. I cut out all the items that had been sneaking into my diet this summer and ended up losing. I've also been slowly reintroducing running on the track back into my workout schedule. I did 60 minutes of varying intervals today, and I really enjoyed it. Of course, this only supports the idea that I actually do know how to take care of myself... I had just been slacking off.

Damn it. Don't you hate when you have no one to blame for your issues but yourself?

Doughy in the middle

So, here's the thing about losing mass quantities of weight, when you get to the end you're not really done. It isn't a lie, like I thought it was. Maintaining is much harder than losing, (once you figure out how to get the damn weight off).

For 8 weeks I haven't been able to run. It was a quick way to burn a lot of calories. It made me not hungry. It gave me happy brain chemicals and it made me want to do new and different things.

Since I stopped, I've been having to cross train with biking, swimming, walking. I do fitness classes and weight training, stretching and I've been in Physical Therapy for 3 weeks. But here's the deal, the happy brain chemicals are gone. And I'm depressed about my body not being able to do what it used to. And I stress eat.

It's like losing the weight was more like suddenly being able to walk on water. Your body feels a bit easier and much more agile. But if you start to gain it back, you sink in a bit. Right now, I'm up to my thighs. But I've been sinking for so long that the water is tepid rather than a cold shock of a number on a scale.

In reality, I'm up 10 lbs. But truthfully, that's almost going from a size 6 to a size 8. I'm bloated and doughy in the middle. And I know what I need to do. Every morning I get up and write out the food plan. And for some reason, my brain thinks it's okay to deviate from it (like today's pretzels and non-fat greek yogurt). Yeah, that probably doesn't sound like junk food. But it was way too many pretzels.

There's a part of me that feels like I was waiting for this failure. Then there's part of me that says, "Screw that, get down to business." And although Quigs promised to punch me in the face if I started gaining, she hasn't said anything yet... but after this post, I'm expecting to have to use my ice pack. Because I really want to be part of the 2%.

If anyone's got any motivating words, I could definitely use some friends.

A New Experience

When I flew to Toronto last week I hadn't been on an airplane since my trip to Montreal in August. When I went to Montreal I was roughly 185 lbs and wore a size 12 Gap Long and Lean jeans. I noticed when I got on the little regional jet out of Savoy that I fit better in the seat in August. At my largest I fit into the seatbelt (even when I was 7 months pregnant) without an extender, but it was dangerously close -- and probably thanks to my husband flying me in business class at the time that I didn't have to ask for one.

For the thin people in the world, asking for a seatbelt extender is something a fat person is scared to death of. Mostly because you're afraid the airline will go all Southwest on you and throw you off like they did with Kevin Smith, but also because there's usually only one extender... if someone else has it, and you request it, you've drawn attention to yourself as needing one and then you don't meet the safety requirements for take off. It's also pretty much the walk of shame up the aisle to ask for it, because it's step number one of any 12-step program -- admitting you have a problem.

When I flew in August, I went from having the seatbelt at the very END of the regular connector and having my hips wedged in between the armrests to having 4-5 inches of space and having my hips just gently caress the armrests. It was much more comfortable. I could -- shock -- cross my legs without having to physically lift a leg up and help it over the other one.

This flight, I weighed 156 lbs. I wore my Lucky Jeans size 4/27. And this was what I found:

My thighs didn't touch the armrests. My seatbelt had around 8-10 inches of space at the end of it. In other words, to fit comfortably into an airline seat, you have to be less than 5'7" tall and be around a size 6 or less. How many people do you know that fit that description? And, really, should they? Is there not a more accommodating seat size?

I think everyone should be the person they want to be and love who they are. In my mind, you, dear reader, rock -- no matter what size you are.

Running, running, running fool

This week I made a concerted effort to get back into the swing of all things fitness for the first time since my surgery. Some things -- like a snow day on Tuesday -- kind of messed with me. It's been frustrating because my pace and endurance have both slowed. But I seemed to have regained the right attitude again. That my running should not be about my time. It should be about the calories I'm burning and how my body feels when I'm done.

There has been one giant side effect to increasing the exercise again. My body wants more fuel, and I've been giving it more fuel, but since I'm in the box, it's been more HMR meals, more protein shakes, more fruit and vegetables. And I'm looking at my calorie intake -- and it's up there this week. Four days of more than 1800 calories. Two days in the 2,000 level. I've been burning between 300 and 750 each day, so it does take it down. But I'm also noticing the scale is registering some water weight issues between all the sweating and drinking, i.e. my body is freaked out again.

So, I don't have high hopes for Monday's weigh in. Sigh. I do have one more week of Blitz left. So hopefully, if it is all water, it'll come and it'll go like the weeks before it. All I know is that I turned 34, had no birthday cakes to readily consume and drank no alcohol... But we'll see what happens. Part of me wants to go to the armory tomorrow and run for a long time. The other half wants to just sit at home and consume vast quantities of liquids to see if I can even out my water retention issues before Monday.

I've decided that doing so will make me sound like some crazy wrestler trying to drop weight before a match though... the problem really is that I was only .4 away from goal last week. And when I saw the number I thought to myself, "This is as close as you're ever going to get." Which is so not the positive framework I need as I work toward the end of the weight loss and really get concentrated on the maintenance aspect.

The fact that I've been slowly going down since entering Maintenance at the end of September is great. The fact that I've lost 20 lbs since then is wonderful. But I still want to see that freaking goal number... So maybe if I aim for my impedance test on Thursday a.m. rather than Monday's weigh in, it'll be a healthier mindset.

Rebound

So three weeks ago, I started attending the Body Blast class at the Fitness Center taught by Melissa. It's a lot of fun. It's roughly 30 minutes of high intensity cardio followed by 30 minutes of strength training that is lots of reps at lower weights. The idea being to strengthen and lengthen. (Genetically, women have  hard time bulking up as it is thanks to our hormones, which is fine by me.) But I love the dance part of the class and the running part of the class a lot.

I've noticed that since it's a class based on intervals that my cardio fitness has improved greatly in just a short time, which is nice.

I weighed in this week after last weeks' random 8 lbs gain in one week. Mathematically, I was supposed to lose .8 lbs (considering the calories in/calories out). I lost about 6.5 lbs. Water weight and New Year's. But I'm feeling pretty good about it.

I'm also starting to get used to the size I am. I had a woman in class mention her obesity and why she had an issue. She was not inviting me to talk about my issue, so I kept my mouth shut. I just listened. And I completely understood her frustration.

My biggest frustration is that I'm going to St. Louis on Thursday with the boys. I'm going out to a hockey game and to dinner with Captain Patrick -- and I'm in the box for the next six weeks to get to my goal weight at the Clinic. So, I'll be eating before dinner. I've already scoped out some "in the box" items on the menu at the restaurant and I'll be carrying an HMR Benefit Bar in my pocket for the game where I will consume the largest Diet soda ever. Yeah, I know none of this is a Whole Food. It's okay. Seriously, stand next to me for a minute or two, you'll figure out I'm getting enough fruits and vegetables. Beans, beans, beans...

P.S. I forgot. If anyone lives in the C-U area and is wondering more about the Carle Weight Management program. I have some info on upcoming free orientation meetings.

In the Box

So, in my last power play to get to my weight goal, I've signed up for a Blitz with my Weight Management Program. That means I'm back in the box for the next six weeks. If everything works out calorie wise, I should reach goal by my birthday. In the box means that I'm back on dietary restrictions. I'm trying to focus on recordkeeping because as of late, I've been really good M-Thursday a.m. and then I record like crap all weekend. I've lost 12 lbs while in maintenance since Sept. 26th, so I'm doing well. I just want to see the goal number by my 1-year anniversary with the program (Feb. 19). And then back into maintenance I go with the goal being to try and maintain that weight, rather than lose more.

I've been training like mad this week, minus the snow day where my physical activity consisted of shoveling. But I've done two brick workouts this week. One with biking and swimming and one with running and biking. I'm also doing a 5-mile run tomorrow with Special K at the armory at 8:30 a.m.

Sunday will be my rest day, and then Monday I'm back at school and in workout central. I'm trying to get enough courage to run outside in the weather. Mostly because I have a 10k to do on Feb. 6.

So, if we're eating together between this coming Monday and six weeks from then. Cut me some slack. I really just want to see that goal number, you know?

Variety is the spice of -- something

I've been cooking meals at least 4 nights a week since August. I started this cooking fascination around 6 weeks before I entered into maintenance with my weight management program. So, I'd make a dinner, plate it and then cook my HMR meals for me and sit down and eat with the family.

Once I was able to start eating real food at the end of September, I continued with the cooking. Usually it's 4 new meals and then 2 nights of leftover and a night where either KTDID or MacTroll are in charge of dinner. It's been pretty awesome. I post the recipes I make (and like) to my Facebook account, so others might be interested in trying them.

But I have to admit, even though I've given a fair to super yummy rating on all the low-calorie meals I've made so far, my search for good low-calorie baking recipe has come to an end. Everything I make I end up throwing away, not just because it's clear that baking is a GIANT trigger for crappy eating (hand to mouth, hand to mouth) but because I feel pretty --meh-- about the things I'm eating. I'd rather eat something good once a month than have something mediocre every night of the week.

KTDID pointed out to me the other night that I've only made one recipe twice in the last 4 months. And she's right. I keep finding new things to try, new tastes to discover. I feel like Remy the rat on Ratatouille. I find it fun, particularly since I never have to do my own dishes, now.)

Now that the weather is turning (blah to the 6 degree morning last Thursday), I've also been seeking out other high intensity workouts. Last Thursday I did my first cycling class at the gym. It was fun. I'm hoping to go back this week. I also tried a Body Blast class today (first half is cardio, second half is weight training with low weights at a lot of reps). They were both very fun and different. But mostly, I was surprised to find that I wasn't afraid to go into either of them and announce myself as a newbie. I also felt pretty good when I finished them.

I'm getting closer and closer and closer to my next impedance test to see where my body fat percentage lies. I'm curious to see what it says.

"You're not ever going to eat cake again? -- Never?"

Both Tinselbee and Quigs have asked me this question this week. I entered into the maintenance phase of my program, but I'm still aiming to lose. What maintenance means is that technically, I'm out of the box. I can eat anything I want. But right now -- I'm choosing not to. And I don't know what foods will eventually be reintroduced into my diet. I do know that I have particular trigger foods that launch emotional eatings or drinking.

Things like baked goods, El Toro margaritas, mashed potatoes, french fries, cake, ice cream, cheese. Oh howdy, do I love cheese. There's a part of me that says that it would be safer to not reintroduce any of those foods -- particularly in a full-fat version. But there's another part that says, how I eat those foods might just need to change.

For example, cheese in a Cooking Light or Weight Watcher recipe is reduced fat and in small quantities. No, it's not a giant grilled cheese sandwich or smothered chicken or cheese and crackers or cheese on baguette. But I'm thinking those cooking light recipes (like goat cheese and roasted corn quesadillas) are going to be in a safe box down the line.

Processed sugars, however, are another story. I just don't know if I'll ever have a good enough reason to sit down and consume pastry or cake again. Most of them being between 300 and 700 calories -- and right now, I can only consume around 1700 calories a day to maintain this body. That's around 1/3 of a day's worth of food for one piece of cake. I don't think it's worth it. But one day, I might indulge.

Part of this program is that by moving away from those foods, I'm not convinced I want them in my life anymore. They weren't good to me before... why would I go back, when clearly I can exist quite well on what I've been eating. When I can create good meals (right KTDID and MacTroll?) on things that are really quite healthy and don't include those items.

So, my realist, hottie friends are definitely right -- I should never say never.

But I tend to be an all or nothing girl, so we'll see how this goes.

Dear Savoy, Champaign and Urbana Communities:

Just a warning that I went shopping the other day for new fitness shorts/capris on sale/clearance. Buying clothes as you get smaller (or bigger) is expensive. By now the changing in sizes has gotten a little old, at least until I start in a pant size that begins with a single digit. But for workout clothes that only come in S, M, L, XL, XXL there is wiggle room. I wiggled my room into a S this week. And when you look at me the first thing you're going to notice is a roll of 1" fat (or muffin top) that comes out just above the top of my sweat shorts. Seriously, I did see it. But the M fit just right, and that means in 4 weeks they'll be too big.

So, if you see me out (like I'm about to go out onto the farm roads to do my 80-minute walk), and think, "Dear god woman, buy pants that fit!" Give it 4 weeks. Then when you next drive by you'll think, "Wow, check out her ass -- nice!" Of course, by then it'll probably be cold and I'll have to invest in longer, more insulated running pants, since there's significantly less insulation in my ass these days... funny how that works, isn't it? Lose weight, become really cold all the time. I wonder if that's why skinny girls are notoriously known in phat circles as being bitches? The poor things are just physically cold.

Something to think about for my walk.

But I look so pretty -- But it would be so stupid

Today, I went shopping for a few things. My old fitness clothes are starting to fall off, so I had to get new ones. I had a 30 percent off coupon for Kohl's so I wandered in to find a mountain of sales. I got some pants, a Nike shirt and a hoodie for me (with extra long arms that have thumbholes in them -- my fave). Shopping is still an adventure for me. It's like playing the, "What size am I?" game. In stretchy cotton/spandex blends I went from an XL to a M. 

Then I went to Bergner's because they are currently the only place in town to carry Wacoal's B.Tempted underwear line. I got a flyer from Confidentially Yours that it's coming soon, but I was already at the mall, so I thought I'd try them out. I LOVED them. They were much cheaper than the traditional Wacoal's ($20-50 cheaper), and had a better look to them. The ones I got were unlined because I'm not a huge fan of the t-shirt bra. And really, what makes a girl happier than having underwear that fits her properly? 

Apparently, a dress. I was walking by a rack of sale items (some dresses were 70 percent off), and I spied a blue one by Sandra Darren, whom I had never heard of before, but it was pretty, on sale, it wasn't super dressy and it had a big tag on it that says, "Yes, I'm WASHABLE." 

I have a high school reunion coming up and although it's completely a) not normal for me to go to a reunion or b) for me to wear a dress, I was curious. So, I tried it on. And I loved it. Except I think in another few pounds the size 12 I tried on will be too big. 

Yes, you read that right. I still get goosebumps thinking about it. I think tomorrow, if I'm feeling down, I might run up there with a pair of dress shoes and try it on again. I mean, the lady on the corner with the alterations business could always take it in, right? They didn't have a size smaller than the 12 available -- well, okay there was a 6, I think, but, um, yeah, that's too small for me. 

At this point, I feel like buying any nice clothes is just a waste of money and stupid. But I looked so, so pretty.

Speaking of dresses, I have two more formal size 18W dresses that I should probably Ebay and get out of the closet. Unless I have someone out there that wants to try them on? $50 each and they're yours.

The New Me

I've been doing the Weight Management program at Carle Clinic for 20 weeks this Tuesday.  I look in the mirror and I notice some differences but emotionally I feel exactly the same, but apparently the rest of the world thinks I look a lot different.

My neighbor SuperShanna's Mom had trouble recognizing me in Gymboree. Then last Thursday I had a meet up group over to Tie Dye shirts and Harley Quinn paid me a sweet compliment. "I pulled up and thought, 'Who is that lady'?" 

And I swear when I went to WWDC in California last month, there were a few people who hadn't seen me in a while that visibly crinkled up their foreheads wondering why I was so excited to see them when they had no idea who I was. 

I'm wondering if this is my new superpower: Shapeshifter without surgery... I'm fat, I'm thin, I'm fat, I'm thin. I suddenly feel like Elizabeth Taylor. :-P

Ruffles suck

I've been walking around with this discount card to Banana Republic/GAP/Old Navy/Piperlime in my wallet since December. So today, MacTroll and I went to the mall to see if we could use it. He needs a black suit for a wedding. I need shirts that don't show the world my breasts when I lean down to pick up my kid or dig my garden. I've apparently lost enough weight that this has become a problem. 

So I went to all the stores. I even went to Ann Taylor loft to check the sales rack. Alas, everything was either sheer (to play up the lacy cami that doesn't look sexy on anyone over the age of 25) or had ruffles and bows everywhere. 

Do I look like the kind of person who wears ruffles and bows? 

A Temptation and the Turndown

When I first started working with my nutritionist I craved things like cheese and crackers. I wanted a crunch. I wanted some fat. I've gone the last 8 weeks without having any craving, although I still have nightmares that I eat outside the box. Thursday will be my 11th week completed in the program. 

But right now, right now, in the sea of my exhaustion with school and getting stuff done around the house all I want is a freaking skillet cookie.

Unfortunately, I can't have one. I will probably never have one again. But, what I can do is go downstairs and make myself some chocolate mousse out of HMR shakes and no-sugar, instant, non-fat Jello pudding.

Doesn't that just sound yummy in comparison? Sigh. I think this is what it's like. You get through the occasional "want" and focus on the "need." 

I'm hungry, and a little bit thirsty. But rather than eating 1200 calories, I can eat 100. Maybe I'll just have an apple. I'm feeling a bit lazy. Maybe I'll just go to sleep and get over it. Tomorrow is a new day. 

But this week, I think I'll buy more than one chocolate Benefit bar... just in case. 

The Big Loser: Week 7

I just weighed in at Weight Watchers. I am at -11.4 lbs in 7 weeks. 

And I think my butt is looking nicer. So, a big hooray for Looseyfur there. I biked X-man to school for the first time this morning. We both enjoyed it. However, I'm an amateur biker and physics kicked my ass on the hill on Church Street at the tracks. Quite simply, with the trailer on the back and my sweet kid in it... I didn't have enough speed and felt like I was going to start rolling down the hill. 

Lessons learned and all that good stuff.