Okay, I have to say it, I'm sick of writing about myself and my whole weight-loss thing. I knew when I started this that it was an egocentric endeavor, but I honestly thought that I had enough interesting things to say that weren't just about me that I could keep an ethereal audience entertained. Not only egocentric, but egotistical too! Sheesh. What I have come to find out is that I just can't do it! I can't even keep myself interested!
Nonetheless, I feel a need to see this through. It's been two weeks since I had that huge, 12 pound, weight gain. Last week I lost 8.2 pounds, and this week I had an 8.6 pound loss, putting me at a total loss of 19.4 pounds for eight weeks.
So why do I still feel discouraged? Maybe because I see how easily the weight can come back, and losing it is hard work, dangit. I can't ever let my guard down. I've spent years just picking up any old thing I wanted to eat (and look where it got me), and now I have to not only think about it, but I have to research points and document them too. But more than that, I'm scared. What if, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, I can't ever lose more than 50 pounds? I know, I know, what happened to that positive attitude I had at the beginning of my blog? I don't have an answer to that, but I do know that I'll get it again, and until then, I still won't give up.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Full Disclosure
Last Saturday, weigh-in day, I could tell by the look on the woman's face who was weighing me that it wasn't good news. "I gained, didn't I?" I said. Without looking me in the eye she said something, but it was so quiet I didn't catch it. I asked her to repeat herself, and this time I heard it loud and clear. I had gained 12.6 pounds in a week, almost everything it had taken me five weeks to lose. I think we were both shocked. She recovered her composure faster than I did and must have remembered her job. "What did you do differently this week?" she asked. "Have you been eating a lot of salt?" I mumbled something about knowing what had gone wrong, gathered my things, and sat down for the half of the meeting I hadn't missed. I woke up with a migraine, and wasn't even going to go, but I knew it was important for me to stay committed and go, even if it was just to get weighed.
I made it through the meeting, but as soon as I got to my car the waterfall of tears began. It wasn't just the weight gain, it had been a stressful week and I was suffering from several disappointments that morning. I was simply feeling sorry for myself. I cried for 10-15 minutes, feeling all the injustices of my life.
Finally, I started to think about the things that could have created such a huge gain in one week. As I said, it had been a stressful week, for various reasons. One of which was having family come to visit. I love it when we have family come, but we were only given five days notice, and although I'm a better house keeper now than I have been for several years, it still takes a fair amount of work to feel like I'm ready to have house guests. Even more than the stress, I take a high blood pressure medication that has a diuretic in it, plus I take a second diuretic, but I hadn't had either medicine for about a week and a half. On top of that, I had been guzzling diet soda and even though I had kept within my points, I wasn't following the Good Health Guidelines at all.
I went over all these things in my head, and a few more, and realized that this is how it's going to be for the rest of my life. I'm never, ever going to get to a point where I can just eat anything and not worry about how it's going to affect (or is it effect? help me here, Cyn) my weight. So I had to decide, do I continue to feel sorry for myself and eat myself to death, or do I try to do something about it? I wiped my tears and went to the grocery store where I bought fresh fruit and vegetables, whole grain bread, and the fixings for a 2 point bean soup that I love. The old saying is true, when you fall off the horse you need to just dust yourself off and get right back up there.
There are always going to be days when I feel like my efforts are fruitless, but as long as I keep trying, as long as I'm willing to put up a good fight, then at least I won't have to deal with that horrible, powerless, victim feeling.
I have to admit, when I was crying in my car I was thinking about what I was going to write here. I considered saying that I had gained weight, but not admitting how much. The whole point of this blog for me is to do the hard thing and admit publicly my reality. In some ways, I'm really open, but there are those things that I keep close to my heart. It's scary to put them out there, not knowing who will pick them up and how they will be treated, but I'm also understanding, for the first time in my life, that it can be liberating too.
I made it through the meeting, but as soon as I got to my car the waterfall of tears began. It wasn't just the weight gain, it had been a stressful week and I was suffering from several disappointments that morning. I was simply feeling sorry for myself. I cried for 10-15 minutes, feeling all the injustices of my life.
Finally, I started to think about the things that could have created such a huge gain in one week. As I said, it had been a stressful week, for various reasons. One of which was having family come to visit. I love it when we have family come, but we were only given five days notice, and although I'm a better house keeper now than I have been for several years, it still takes a fair amount of work to feel like I'm ready to have house guests. Even more than the stress, I take a high blood pressure medication that has a diuretic in it, plus I take a second diuretic, but I hadn't had either medicine for about a week and a half. On top of that, I had been guzzling diet soda and even though I had kept within my points, I wasn't following the Good Health Guidelines at all.
I went over all these things in my head, and a few more, and realized that this is how it's going to be for the rest of my life. I'm never, ever going to get to a point where I can just eat anything and not worry about how it's going to affect (or is it effect? help me here, Cyn) my weight. So I had to decide, do I continue to feel sorry for myself and eat myself to death, or do I try to do something about it? I wiped my tears and went to the grocery store where I bought fresh fruit and vegetables, whole grain bread, and the fixings for a 2 point bean soup that I love. The old saying is true, when you fall off the horse you need to just dust yourself off and get right back up there.
There are always going to be days when I feel like my efforts are fruitless, but as long as I keep trying, as long as I'm willing to put up a good fight, then at least I won't have to deal with that horrible, powerless, victim feeling.
I have to admit, when I was crying in my car I was thinking about what I was going to write here. I considered saying that I had gained weight, but not admitting how much. The whole point of this blog for me is to do the hard thing and admit publicly my reality. In some ways, I'm really open, but there are those things that I keep close to my heart. It's scary to put them out there, not knowing who will pick them up and how they will be treated, but I'm also understanding, for the first time in my life, that it can be liberating too.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Quickie
I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had actually lost .6 of a pound when I weighed in on Saturday. I feel pretty good about that, especially since I was wearing heavier clothes than I normally do. That's a total of 15.2 in five weeks. More importantly, I'm completely back on track with the diet and feeling great about it! Yay me!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Boiling Potatoes
It's "weigh-in" day, but I thought I would write before I go to Weight Watchers this time. I'm still hoping I've continued to lose weight this week, but I won't be surprised to find out I've actually gained. I'm on my period and I've been ravenous all week. I kept within my points every day except Thursday. I made a deliberate choice to eat a bag of cookies. I'm joking, I didn't eat the whole bag, although I really wanted to. However, combined with the glass of milk I drank with them, I went over by 12 points. That's really quite a bit considering I used up all my flex points for the week. I'll explain those some other time.
When I decided to eat those cookies on Thursday I saw myself as a boiling pot of potatoes. Perhaps there's a better analogy, but this is the one that popped into my head and made sense to me. You know how the pototoes get boiling really good and if you don't watch them or turn down the heat they boil over? Once they've hit that point and boiled over, you finally turn down the heat and they cook the rest of the way just fine. That's how Thursday was for me, it was my boiling over point. So I ate the cookies, I allowed myself to indulge, then I turned down the heat and I'm fine again. The problem is that if you let the pot get to the point where it boils over you have a big mess to clean up on the stove. So that's how I see it today. I might not have lost any weight this week, and possibly I've gained, but I'll just clean up the mess and get back to cooking.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Oh! Yesterday I heard a knock on the door and when I answered it there was a woman standing on our doorstep. She said simply, "I have your dog." She and her husband have had Cassie since the first day she was missing. They have loved her and half-heartedly looked for her owner. They finally saw one of our fliers we had posted and knew that she had people worried about her. I really think they had hoped they could keep her, but as soon as the lady saw the look on my face when she told me they had Cassie, she knew that we would want her back. I'm so grateful to have her back, but even more than that, I'm thankful that my prayers were answered to have her kept safe. People are good.
When I decided to eat those cookies on Thursday I saw myself as a boiling pot of potatoes. Perhaps there's a better analogy, but this is the one that popped into my head and made sense to me. You know how the pototoes get boiling really good and if you don't watch them or turn down the heat they boil over? Once they've hit that point and boiled over, you finally turn down the heat and they cook the rest of the way just fine. That's how Thursday was for me, it was my boiling over point. So I ate the cookies, I allowed myself to indulge, then I turned down the heat and I'm fine again. The problem is that if you let the pot get to the point where it boils over you have a big mess to clean up on the stove. So that's how I see it today. I might not have lost any weight this week, and possibly I've gained, but I'll just clean up the mess and get back to cooking.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Oh! Yesterday I heard a knock on the door and when I answered it there was a woman standing on our doorstep. She said simply, "I have your dog." She and her husband have had Cassie since the first day she was missing. They have loved her and half-heartedly looked for her owner. They finally saw one of our fliers we had posted and knew that she had people worried about her. I really think they had hoped they could keep her, but as soon as the lady saw the look on my face when she told me they had Cassie, she knew that we would want her back. I'm so grateful to have her back, but even more than that, I'm thankful that my prayers were answered to have her kept safe. People are good.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Baggy Underwear
I can't guarantee that my underwear wasn't loose before, but they are definitely baggy now. I know for sure that my pants are looser on me than they were a month ago.
So, I haven't posted my last two week's weight loss yet. After my third week I had lost seven pounds and last week I lost two, making it a total of 14.6 pounds in four weeks. Comparatively, that's not a lot for me, and I didn't think it would be enough to make a noticeable difference, but I feel it in my pants. Yay.
So, I haven't posted my last two week's weight loss yet. After my third week I had lost seven pounds and last week I lost two, making it a total of 14.6 pounds in four weeks. Comparatively, that's not a lot for me, and I didn't think it would be enough to make a noticeable difference, but I feel it in my pants. Yay.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Prodigal Dog
My husband loves to play the good news/bad news game. "I have some good news and some bad news," he will frequently say. In fact he likes it so much that he will often make things up so that he can make me play it with him. I normally choose to get the bad news first. That way, the blow of the bad news seems softened by whatever positive thing might be going on. I truly do try to find the positive side of most things, but at times it takes some effort. One of my favorite sayings is a paraphrase of something Abraham Lincoln said, "You can be upset that a rosebush has thorns, or delighted that a thorn bush has roses." Generally, I choose to be delighted.
Sometimes Brian will try to soften the blow of bad news by making up something even worse to tell me first. Today, as we were driving home from church he said, "I did something today that you're not going to be very happy about."
Steeling myself, determined that I wasn't going to freak out, I said, "And what is that?"
"I invited the missionaries to come over for lunch. They will be at our house in about 15 minutes."
Thoughts of my filthy house and empty larder swirled downward in my mind like toilet water. But hey, they're hungry young men, they'll be grateful for a peanut butter sandwich they don't have to fix themselves, right? I hope neither of them are allergic to peanuts.
Then Brian said, "Not really, but I volunteered to go to girls' camp this week as one of the priesthood leaders."
Is that all? He seems to be gone every weekend on some Boy Scout activity or another and just got back from a week-long pack-packing trip with the scouts, but how can I possibly be upset that he is willing to serve in the church? I'm thankful that as a school teacher he has the time, and is willing to help where he is needed.
So, I have some good news and some bad news.
The bad news is that a week ago yesterday both of our dogs somehow got out of our house, during the hours of 3:30 AM and 6:30 AM, and ran off. The first day that they were gone the temperature got up to 114 degrees. We spent the day driving around looking for them, calling Animal Control, and praying. The beagle, Ranger, has a tag on his collar with my phone number on it, but Cassie, an English setter, had her tag fall off. They would be fine if they stuck together, but Cassie can outrun Ranger by a mile.
The day served to remind me what an emotional eater I am. It was tough to think about anything other than our poor dogs out in the heat. I found myself continually wandering into the kitchen to look though the refrigerator and cabinets for something to munch on. I stayed within my points, but it was tough.
Heartbreakingly, we haven't found Cassie. We have spent hours at the animal shelters, hanging fliers on neighborhood mailboxes, lamp posts, and pet stores, and visiting veterinarians in the hopes that someone might have found her and taken her to get checked. As always, not knowing is the worst. The thought of her wandering around thirsty and hurt in this heat is more than I can bear. I honestly don't think I've ever seen Brian this heartbroken before. I'm quite positive that he would never put as much time and effort into finding me as he has his dog. Isaac has cried himself to sleep several nights, and I feel like crying with him.
The good news is that the following morning, at 3:00 AM, Clark heard Ranger barking at our front door. He has been treated like the prodigal son since his return. I've noticed that his food bowl is always full. I think that's because everyone keeps feeding him from their plates, making his own food inconsequential. People are fighting over who gets to sleep with him. We are all so grateful to have him back.
Sometimes Brian will try to soften the blow of bad news by making up something even worse to tell me first. Today, as we were driving home from church he said, "I did something today that you're not going to be very happy about."
Steeling myself, determined that I wasn't going to freak out, I said, "And what is that?"
"I invited the missionaries to come over for lunch. They will be at our house in about 15 minutes."
Thoughts of my filthy house and empty larder swirled downward in my mind like toilet water. But hey, they're hungry young men, they'll be grateful for a peanut butter sandwich they don't have to fix themselves, right? I hope neither of them are allergic to peanuts.
Then Brian said, "Not really, but I volunteered to go to girls' camp this week as one of the priesthood leaders."
Is that all? He seems to be gone every weekend on some Boy Scout activity or another and just got back from a week-long pack-packing trip with the scouts, but how can I possibly be upset that he is willing to serve in the church? I'm thankful that as a school teacher he has the time, and is willing to help where he is needed.
So, I have some good news and some bad news.
The bad news is that a week ago yesterday both of our dogs somehow got out of our house, during the hours of 3:30 AM and 6:30 AM, and ran off. The first day that they were gone the temperature got up to 114 degrees. We spent the day driving around looking for them, calling Animal Control, and praying. The beagle, Ranger, has a tag on his collar with my phone number on it, but Cassie, an English setter, had her tag fall off. They would be fine if they stuck together, but Cassie can outrun Ranger by a mile.
The day served to remind me what an emotional eater I am. It was tough to think about anything other than our poor dogs out in the heat. I found myself continually wandering into the kitchen to look though the refrigerator and cabinets for something to munch on. I stayed within my points, but it was tough.
Heartbreakingly, we haven't found Cassie. We have spent hours at the animal shelters, hanging fliers on neighborhood mailboxes, lamp posts, and pet stores, and visiting veterinarians in the hopes that someone might have found her and taken her to get checked. As always, not knowing is the worst. The thought of her wandering around thirsty and hurt in this heat is more than I can bear. I honestly don't think I've ever seen Brian this heartbroken before. I'm quite positive that he would never put as much time and effort into finding me as he has his dog. Isaac has cried himself to sleep several nights, and I feel like crying with him.
The good news is that the following morning, at 3:00 AM, Clark heard Ranger barking at our front door. He has been treated like the prodigal son since his return. I've noticed that his food bowl is always full. I think that's because everyone keeps feeding him from their plates, making his own food inconsequential. People are fighting over who gets to sleep with him. We are all so grateful to have him back.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Gratitude
When Davis and Clark were just 4 and 2 years old I called them destructo boys, they seemed to destroy anything they could get their hands on! They had so much energy and were into everything. They never walked, they always ran everywhere, even if it was just across the room. They weren't particularly naughty, but their bodies couldn't hold all of their energy inside. They had huge, inquisitive spirits that were just too big for their bodies.
One Spring morning I had been out for a walk at daybreak. When I got home, my little Clark was asleep on the sofa. He must have wandered out from his bedroom while I was gone (their father was still asleep in bed) and climbed onto the sofa to wait for me. I sat down next to him and marvelled at how peaceful it was while he slept. I remember thinking, "Why can't they be like this all the time? Why do they have to be so crazy and loud?" Suddenly a depth of understanding was opened up to me. I believe it was a gift, a moment of insight, from God. In an instant I saw and understood how extraordinary it was that the boys had all the mental and physical capacity to be as active and curious as they were. I needed to be grateful that their bodies worked without limitations and that they could think and communicate without impediment.
Even now, when Davis fiddles with things and takes them apart to see how they work, thereby making them no longer work; when Clark challenges me and accuses me of making up a words because he has never heard them before; when Isaac bounces with energy and talks nonstop, intertwined with my frustration is gratitude.
I feel the same gratitude for my own body, which has held up remarkably well considering the load it carries. Although I do have some health issues related to my weight, such as high blood pressure, I don't have as many as one might expect. Aside from high blood pressure (which is controlled really well through medication), most of the byproducts from my weight and size are mostly inconvenient, not life threatening, although as I get older I wonder how much longer this ol' form can take it. I guess that's one of my "straws," one of the things that has me committed and actively trying to change. I have been blessed with so much, I need to stop squandering it.
One Spring morning I had been out for a walk at daybreak. When I got home, my little Clark was asleep on the sofa. He must have wandered out from his bedroom while I was gone (their father was still asleep in bed) and climbed onto the sofa to wait for me. I sat down next to him and marvelled at how peaceful it was while he slept. I remember thinking, "Why can't they be like this all the time? Why do they have to be so crazy and loud?" Suddenly a depth of understanding was opened up to me. I believe it was a gift, a moment of insight, from God. In an instant I saw and understood how extraordinary it was that the boys had all the mental and physical capacity to be as active and curious as they were. I needed to be grateful that their bodies worked without limitations and that they could think and communicate without impediment.
Even now, when Davis fiddles with things and takes them apart to see how they work, thereby making them no longer work; when Clark challenges me and accuses me of making up a words because he has never heard them before; when Isaac bounces with energy and talks nonstop, intertwined with my frustration is gratitude.
I feel the same gratitude for my own body, which has held up remarkably well considering the load it carries. Although I do have some health issues related to my weight, such as high blood pressure, I don't have as many as one might expect. Aside from high blood pressure (which is controlled really well through medication), most of the byproducts from my weight and size are mostly inconvenient, not life threatening, although as I get older I wonder how much longer this ol' form can take it. I guess that's one of my "straws," one of the things that has me committed and actively trying to change. I have been blessed with so much, I need to stop squandering it.
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