MacTroll and I recently made changes to our life insurance policy. In order to apply for the new policies, we had to go through "physicals." I was nervous because I don't feel I'm in good shape. I hadn't weighed myself since before my surgery four months ago.
The insurance company sends an examiner to your house. They take a urine sample, a blood sample and they check your weight and height and your blood pressure. All of the medical history information is required over the phone prior to the exam. The weight actually was pretty within ballpark of what I was thinking. I'm also realizing that the difference between my high intensity cardio and low intensity is the extra 20 lbs I'm carrying around over my "goal" weight of 165. And my blood pressure, now that I'm not in chronic foot pain is back to being 96/60.
I haven't gotten all of my numbers back yet, but the policy called our Ameriprise guy to let him know that we both passed. And then he added that we were getting a refund because I'm "preferred." I'm not sure what I'm preferred for, but apparently, I got the good health discount. So hooray.
Then X-man asked what insurance was. So we explained it to him. We all agree we don't want anything to happen to anyone that would require us to use it. :-)
Showing posts with label lifestyle changes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lifestyle changes. Show all posts
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Monday, April 18, 2011
I was never an Absolutist
I've been reading books and chatting with people about vegetarian and vegan lifestyles lately. I will admit that most of my inquiry is health-based. I've read enough general nutrition books, studies and articles and met with my own nutritionist enough to know that the more plant-based a diet is the better it is for a person's overall well being.
In comparison to my husband, my life is rather leafy green. In comparison to a vegan, not so much. Meat doesn't come into my house too often, mostly because it's expensive and full of calories for smallish portions. I'd rather spend money on fruits and vegetables because I get to eat more, and let's face it, I'm a bulk eater by nature.
MacTroll on the other hand drools carnivore. And, truthfully, I have absolutely no problem with that. He makes his choices, and the more time he spends in urban environments, the more snotty he is about the high level of quality meats he wants to put in his mouth. He told me years ago that he never gets full when eating meat, but he loves it so. Hmmm, maybe medium rare filet mignon is his trigger the way I drool over baked goods?
Anyway, here's the deal. I haven't been sleeping through the local food movement. It just hasn't really come down in a price range I'm comfortable in dealing with lately. When I say I eat local, I mean I eat what's from my garden. Because the Urbana Farmer's Market is really kind of expensive (but it also starts really soon). I usually buy asparagus, corn on the cob, some lamb brats and pumpkins there throughout the season. But the five times I go each year usually sees me buying X-man his $1 popcorn as I wander around and try to find something I'm willing to pay for and then going home empty handed. It's kind of sad. Because there are foods I eat, but I just can't stomach paying 2-3 times more for them than I would at Meijer -- or even Schnuck's.
I signed up for the CSA program one year when X-man was an infant. I felt very wasteful because it was before my cooking interest started, and they gave me all kinds of things (even recipes for them) that I just didn't have the energy in my postpartum depression to muscle through. I mean, what one person can eat 2 plastic bags of rhubarb? I'd make into pies, and, seriously, never mind that Cooking Light thinks Healthy Pies are possible, they really aren't. I also remember getting 3 pints of gooseberries. Really, what the hell is a gooseberry? Now, I'd probably have no problem concocting meals of inexplicable ingredients that the farmer chose to plant. But really, I'd do much better with a lot more tomatoes and zucchini than six different kinds of salad mixtures. So, I haven't done it again.
This weekend is the turn the dirt weekend in my backyard. It was supposed to be last weekend, but the cold, ass rain made me lazy on Saturday, and then a 12-mile training run and some way more fun social scheduling kind of took precedent on Sunday. But the strange part is that I haven't decided what to plant yet. I know there will be spinach (because we eat it like no one's business, and I was reading something the other day that talked about how buying baby spinach from the store was some how ecologically worse for the earth than beef, but I have to admit, I only got the headline and lede read before I had to move on). I also know there will be plenty of salsa stuff, and the usual mint pot for MacTroll.
But last year, I had the whole thing mapped out by February and in the ground by now. I know I'll have strawberries and raspberries. We'll see how the blueberry bush does. But I keep waiting for my inspiration to come.
I feel the same way about reading these books and making a lifestyle change. Any book that has any kind of shaming involved or that leads with the concept that meat eaters are dumb and cruel and killing the earth, I put back. It might be dumb to eat meat in the copious amounts that most Americans consume it. It might be cruel the way factory farms treat their livestock. And the farm industry, particularly the cattle ranches, are doing a shitload of damage to the environment (more than even the transportation industry that's how potent cornfed cattle farts are), but I need the science I don't need the lecture to make up my mind.
As it is, I also need a lot of flexibility. If I choose a different lifestyle for myself, I'm not forcing the other two humans in my house to have it. But it is true to say that I myself will stop preparing meat-based meals, should I go that way. And if I've learned anything in the last two years it's that the more vegetables I feed MacTroll, the more likely he is to leave the leftovers in the fridge and eat out at Jimmy John's or Potbelly or Subway... If the meat is cooked at home, those fast food trips stop (or at least lessen). Funny how that works. Plus, in certain circumstances (thanks to the Common Ground Coop) I know where the meat comes from and that it's not loaded with antibiotics, nitrates, etc. But they don't carry an extensive list of meats at the Coop in the off Farmer's Season. And it is way, way more expensive to get it from Triple S in the summer than pick up the factory farm stuff at Meijer. (But we do our best with the Smart Chicken.)
My point is that in one of the books (Becoming Vegetarian) I'm reading they talk about the various kinds of vegetarianism. Then they address the stricter vegan, who are often more likely to extend their life choices to not wearing wool or silk or other animal products. I love that this book gives you the facts without the hounding, so far. And that they use the term "Near Vegan." Oooh. Maybe I could be a vegan that still eats honey, wears smartwool socks and has ice cream once a month. I wouldn't eat cheese or meat or eggs but I also probably wouldn't feel compelled to research every ingredient in my facial cream.
I guess when I started I thought I was going to have to choose and be all hard ass about my diet choice. But I don't. Others might consider this flaky, but in this world, I think there are some areas you can cut a person some slack and food is definitely one of them. There are so many choices to be made and so many social, environmental, emotional, economical and nutrition-based reasons to make them.
But the big question is, even though meat isn't a trigger food for me, how much would I miss it? I like its smell. I like its taste. But I don't usually crave it (well, except the 10 months I was pregnant). So, I'll keep reading.
The only other thing that makes me put a book back on the shelf besides shaming, by the way, is any book that promotes veganism as a method of weight loss. Eff that. Been there, done that. And I think mentioning it in a title is just a way to feed off people's insecurities.
In comparison to my husband, my life is rather leafy green. In comparison to a vegan, not so much. Meat doesn't come into my house too often, mostly because it's expensive and full of calories for smallish portions. I'd rather spend money on fruits and vegetables because I get to eat more, and let's face it, I'm a bulk eater by nature.
MacTroll on the other hand drools carnivore. And, truthfully, I have absolutely no problem with that. He makes his choices, and the more time he spends in urban environments, the more snotty he is about the high level of quality meats he wants to put in his mouth. He told me years ago that he never gets full when eating meat, but he loves it so. Hmmm, maybe medium rare filet mignon is his trigger the way I drool over baked goods?
Anyway, here's the deal. I haven't been sleeping through the local food movement. It just hasn't really come down in a price range I'm comfortable in dealing with lately. When I say I eat local, I mean I eat what's from my garden. Because the Urbana Farmer's Market is really kind of expensive (but it also starts really soon). I usually buy asparagus, corn on the cob, some lamb brats and pumpkins there throughout the season. But the five times I go each year usually sees me buying X-man his $1 popcorn as I wander around and try to find something I'm willing to pay for and then going home empty handed. It's kind of sad. Because there are foods I eat, but I just can't stomach paying 2-3 times more for them than I would at Meijer -- or even Schnuck's.
I signed up for the CSA program one year when X-man was an infant. I felt very wasteful because it was before my cooking interest started, and they gave me all kinds of things (even recipes for them) that I just didn't have the energy in my postpartum depression to muscle through. I mean, what one person can eat 2 plastic bags of rhubarb? I'd make into pies, and, seriously, never mind that Cooking Light thinks Healthy Pies are possible, they really aren't. I also remember getting 3 pints of gooseberries. Really, what the hell is a gooseberry? Now, I'd probably have no problem concocting meals of inexplicable ingredients that the farmer chose to plant. But really, I'd do much better with a lot more tomatoes and zucchini than six different kinds of salad mixtures. So, I haven't done it again.
This weekend is the turn the dirt weekend in my backyard. It was supposed to be last weekend, but the cold, ass rain made me lazy on Saturday, and then a 12-mile training run and some way more fun social scheduling kind of took precedent on Sunday. But the strange part is that I haven't decided what to plant yet. I know there will be spinach (because we eat it like no one's business, and I was reading something the other day that talked about how buying baby spinach from the store was some how ecologically worse for the earth than beef, but I have to admit, I only got the headline and lede read before I had to move on). I also know there will be plenty of salsa stuff, and the usual mint pot for MacTroll.
But last year, I had the whole thing mapped out by February and in the ground by now. I know I'll have strawberries and raspberries. We'll see how the blueberry bush does. But I keep waiting for my inspiration to come.
I feel the same way about reading these books and making a lifestyle change. Any book that has any kind of shaming involved or that leads with the concept that meat eaters are dumb and cruel and killing the earth, I put back. It might be dumb to eat meat in the copious amounts that most Americans consume it. It might be cruel the way factory farms treat their livestock. And the farm industry, particularly the cattle ranches, are doing a shitload of damage to the environment (more than even the transportation industry that's how potent cornfed cattle farts are), but I need the science I don't need the lecture to make up my mind.
As it is, I also need a lot of flexibility. If I choose a different lifestyle for myself, I'm not forcing the other two humans in my house to have it. But it is true to say that I myself will stop preparing meat-based meals, should I go that way. And if I've learned anything in the last two years it's that the more vegetables I feed MacTroll, the more likely he is to leave the leftovers in the fridge and eat out at Jimmy John's or Potbelly or Subway... If the meat is cooked at home, those fast food trips stop (or at least lessen). Funny how that works. Plus, in certain circumstances (thanks to the Common Ground Coop) I know where the meat comes from and that it's not loaded with antibiotics, nitrates, etc. But they don't carry an extensive list of meats at the Coop in the off Farmer's Season. And it is way, way more expensive to get it from Triple S in the summer than pick up the factory farm stuff at Meijer. (But we do our best with the Smart Chicken.)
My point is that in one of the books (Becoming Vegetarian) I'm reading they talk about the various kinds of vegetarianism. Then they address the stricter vegan, who are often more likely to extend their life choices to not wearing wool or silk or other animal products. I love that this book gives you the facts without the hounding, so far. And that they use the term "Near Vegan." Oooh. Maybe I could be a vegan that still eats honey, wears smartwool socks and has ice cream once a month. I wouldn't eat cheese or meat or eggs but I also probably wouldn't feel compelled to research every ingredient in my facial cream.
I guess when I started I thought I was going to have to choose and be all hard ass about my diet choice. But I don't. Others might consider this flaky, but in this world, I think there are some areas you can cut a person some slack and food is definitely one of them. There are so many choices to be made and so many social, environmental, emotional, economical and nutrition-based reasons to make them.
But the big question is, even though meat isn't a trigger food for me, how much would I miss it? I like its smell. I like its taste. But I don't usually crave it (well, except the 10 months I was pregnant). So, I'll keep reading.
The only other thing that makes me put a book back on the shelf besides shaming, by the way, is any book that promotes veganism as a method of weight loss. Eff that. Been there, done that. And I think mentioning it in a title is just a way to feed off people's insecurities.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Reality Check
In the middle of August, Carle Weight Management had us fill out a Risk Factor Profile questionnaire. Somehow, in all of my class jumping last year due to school, I missed that a bunch of people had filled this out before. It's like a benchmark of where you are now versus where you were. Even though I didn't take the test previously, I am able to chart where I was on most items. The assessment takes into account my cholesterol levels, triglycerides, blood pressure, fasting glucose level, %over ideal body weight, how much I drink alcohol, how much I smoke, my physical activity history (calories burned on average per week), my body fat percentage, my servings of fruits and vegetables, my stress level, if I wear my seat belt and "other."
There was also some family history on the sheet.
We got the results today. And the one elevated risk factor I had was my body weight, which I find interesting. It's no secret that even at my goal weight I road the line between "normal" and "obese" on the BMI scale. At goal (157) I was a 24.6 (normal), right now, I'm a 25.8 (overweight) because I have been maintaining an 8lb. increase over that "goal" area. That is, I thought 157 was good, but I'm maintaining a 165. It seems to be where my body always goes. I dipped into the 150s for about 6 weeks post surgery, and then went right up to being 164 again when I did the triathlon and the marathon relay last spring and have been fighting all summer to try to see 160 again. 161 was the closest I came.
Anyway, even though my body weight has increased, my last measured body fat was 23 percent in May. But the point of the survey wasn't supposed to dwell on weight. It was supposed to show you how you were doing in many other health-related areas that can change your chances of cancer risk and cardiovascular disease risk (i.e. life is more important than scale). At this time, deep breath, I am at low risk for either given my profile.
Total Cholesterol: 163
Total Triglycerides: 51
Blood Pressure: 96/62
Fasting blood glucose: 94
I apparently need to work on the fact that I "sometimes" feel stressed too. But then I don't think I'd be alive.
Overall, the average American is found to be a +23 (female) or +25 (male) on this chart. A "healthy" American is at 0. My risk profile has me at -22. I think I'll call that "hooray."
I've got two meetings with the nurse in my program over the next two weeks. One is my 6-month follow up impedance test. The next is a pre-blitz assessment meeting. Every 3-4 months, the clinic runs a "blitz." It can be used to jump start weight loss. But truthfully, I use them to get back into good habits. There's been a development lately of doing more convenience eating rather than what I call investment eating. My vegetable consumption needs to increase, particularly since my fruit intake has been way high with all the bounty summer brought us.
I also need to work on the sleep. Unfortunately that "sometimes" stress, seems to occur most late at night when I'm supposed to be winding down from my day. My brain doesn't like to shut down. Some things really help. MacTroll is probably going nuts by the number of times I've had to ask him to rub my back at night. It's not a massage thing. It's definitely a comfort of touch thing. Fifty percent of the time it puts me right to sleep, if it goes on long enough (five minutes or so).
Last night, I fell asleep and thought I heard water. I thought one of the cats got trapped in our bathroom and was peeing in the shower, so I got up and ran into the bathroom. Only to find out it was just my husband. Yeah, the cats probably don't pee loud enough that I can hear them through the door. But it also tells you how light of a sleeper I've been lately.
On Oct. 14th, I'm heading back up to Montreal, for my Loosey-only break from reality. Here's to hoping I get some solid snoozes there. I could use them. It feels like it's been months since I've gotten a restful sleep.
There was also some family history on the sheet.
We got the results today. And the one elevated risk factor I had was my body weight, which I find interesting. It's no secret that even at my goal weight I road the line between "normal" and "obese" on the BMI scale. At goal (157) I was a 24.6 (normal), right now, I'm a 25.8 (overweight) because I have been maintaining an 8lb. increase over that "goal" area. That is, I thought 157 was good, but I'm maintaining a 165. It seems to be where my body always goes. I dipped into the 150s for about 6 weeks post surgery, and then went right up to being 164 again when I did the triathlon and the marathon relay last spring and have been fighting all summer to try to see 160 again. 161 was the closest I came.
Anyway, even though my body weight has increased, my last measured body fat was 23 percent in May. But the point of the survey wasn't supposed to dwell on weight. It was supposed to show you how you were doing in many other health-related areas that can change your chances of cancer risk and cardiovascular disease risk (i.e. life is more important than scale). At this time, deep breath, I am at low risk for either given my profile.
Total Cholesterol: 163
Total Triglycerides: 51
Blood Pressure: 96/62
Fasting blood glucose: 94
I apparently need to work on the fact that I "sometimes" feel stressed too. But then I don't think I'd be alive.
Overall, the average American is found to be a +23 (female) or +25 (male) on this chart. A "healthy" American is at 0. My risk profile has me at -22. I think I'll call that "hooray."
I've got two meetings with the nurse in my program over the next two weeks. One is my 6-month follow up impedance test. The next is a pre-blitz assessment meeting. Every 3-4 months, the clinic runs a "blitz." It can be used to jump start weight loss. But truthfully, I use them to get back into good habits. There's been a development lately of doing more convenience eating rather than what I call investment eating. My vegetable consumption needs to increase, particularly since my fruit intake has been way high with all the bounty summer brought us.
I also need to work on the sleep. Unfortunately that "sometimes" stress, seems to occur most late at night when I'm supposed to be winding down from my day. My brain doesn't like to shut down. Some things really help. MacTroll is probably going nuts by the number of times I've had to ask him to rub my back at night. It's not a massage thing. It's definitely a comfort of touch thing. Fifty percent of the time it puts me right to sleep, if it goes on long enough (five minutes or so).
Last night, I fell asleep and thought I heard water. I thought one of the cats got trapped in our bathroom and was peeing in the shower, so I got up and ran into the bathroom. Only to find out it was just my husband. Yeah, the cats probably don't pee loud enough that I can hear them through the door. But it also tells you how light of a sleeper I've been lately.
On Oct. 14th, I'm heading back up to Montreal, for my Loosey-only break from reality. Here's to hoping I get some solid snoozes there. I could use them. It feels like it's been months since I've gotten a restful sleep.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Resolutions
I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. I don't understand why you need to wait until the beginning of a new calendar year to decide to make changes in your life that might make you happier, healthier or just a better all-around person.
But I have a few things that I need to do. So, I'm starting the new things tomorrow. It's a Wednesday. It's not even a special Wednesday.
Several months ago, I did weight watchers. But I had a drawback. I hated going to the meetings because everyone who was there was 30 years older than I am. I couldn't relate on a basic level. Plus, after 7 weeks, I started to equate my quality as a human with the number on the scale. These are bad, bad things for someone with eating issues.
So here's the deal. I'm still not stepping on the scale. But I have no trouble counting. So, I'm going to count calories and post them. And I'll count them before I eat them. My goal is to be between 1500 and 1800 calories a day. Slow and steady. Nothing drastic. I'll post them every day. And if I don't. You need to demand them, even if it turns out I'm over calories for the day... I need to see them. As my old childhood friend, Quiet Musings said, I need some accountability... cause apparently, I'm not providing it for myself.
So I'm going to lean on my friends. Most of who I see or talk to every day, also read this blog.
In theory, this kind of life style change should lead to weight loss, but I want to focus on the change and not the number. Stay in the positive rather than let myself sink into the negative.
Make sense?
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