I never made it home to Indianapolis. Even though Boston barely got an inch of snow, the blizzard-like conditions in New York, DC, Philadelphia and Chicago basically crippled the entire airline system. Planes and crews were stuck in snowy areas, so no one could get where they needed to go. I investigated buses and trains, and even considered driving from Boston to Indianapolis overnight. But I’d have been heading straight into the eye of the storm, and the more I thought about it, the last thing my grandma would ever have wanted is for Jeff and me to risk our life trying to get home for her funeral. She didn’t even like when I drove at night.
So I took a couple bereavement days and stayed around our apartment resting and trying to process everything. I’m starting to worry I’m not getting sufficient closure. I needed to see her body to really believe it was true. I needed to be with my family. But I couldn’t. So I moped around the house watching TV, napping and snacking.
I haven’t cared to know what the scale has to say, which is never good. I suspect I’m likely back up to 200. Oh, dreaded 200.
This isn’t working. My whole half-assed approach to weight loss isn’t working. Here’s the bottom line: I desperately want to be in the 170s by June. We’re going back to Indiana the first week of June, and I would love to be wearing a smaller size by then. To be noticeably thinner.
My grandma’s death has me thinking about my own health. My grandma was always very active and fit from doing lots of housework. Then about 15 years ago she started getting sicker. At that time, I really believe she should have taken up walking or another form of physical activity. But she became increasingly sedentary, and her health worsened over the years. She’s been basically immobile for several years now. She spent most of her days in front of the TV, legs hanging off the side of the bed because she couldn’t lift them up. Food became one of the only things she could still enjoy, so she indulged in cakes, pies, fried food and milkshakes. Soon she was 180 pounds, which is a lot for someone who’s 4’11”.
How different would things have been for her if she’d committed to exercise and better eating? For years she stayed healthy through vigorous housework and smaller portions of fattening Southern food, but that wasn’t enough to keep her healthy into old age. My other grandmother is ten years older, but she’s always followed a low-fat diet and still walks two miles a day. She’s in fantastic shape and still leads an incredibly vibrant life at 89.
My mom is quickly sliding into poor health, just like her mother. She’s at least 60 pounds overweight, has high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and can’t walk more than a few blocks at a time. I’m in far better health, but I’m also 50 pounds overweight. When my mom was my age (25), she weighed 135.
I have to make this transformation a priority. This isn’t working, and I’m tired of letting myself down. I keep imagining how amazing it would feel to be 20 pounds lighter by Spring. To go buy cute new summer clothes in a smaller size. To feel better about tank tops, shorts and swim suits.
I MUST resume religiously tracking Weight Watchers Points. Here’s the pattern I’ve been following: Track all day at work, go home with 8-13 available Points for the rest of the day, then pretty eat whatever and not track it. And then it’s just anything goes on the weekend—no tracking whatsoever, usually at least five drinks between Friday and Sunday.
Okay, so religious tracking will help get the weight off. But I am stuck in a SERIOUS plateau. My body is extremely comfortable at this weight. It will be extremely hard to get it off, so I need to go a step further.
Hence, my new theory: The Rule of Four
Four workouts a week
Four 16-oz cups of water a day
Four or less alcoholic beverages a week
Four times eating out a month (I may be more flexible with this one, but it’s my goal.)
To quote Tobias from Arrested Development, “Let the great experiment begin!!”
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
A Different Kind of Loss
After several years of declining health, my grandma passed away on Saturday night. It was expected; she's been in the hospital on and off for years, and when she was checked in five days ago, it became clear that this time might actually be the end. My mom was with her, holding her hand, at the time she passed. It was an utterly peaceful way to go as I can possibly imagine. And we were as prepared as anyone can possibly be.
It's still difficult to reconcile the details. I'm finding I can't really grasp the enormity of it, so instead I'm focusing on the little things. How I won't ever hear her voice again. How her house, the home she's occupied for over 40 years, is now empty. How I'll never again dial her phone number, a number I've had memorized my entire life, and hear her pick up on the other end like clockwork. How she won't get to attend my wedding or meet my children, events that would have meant more to her than I can possibly explain.
I've also been thinking about unconditional love. How many people in your life tell you every time you see them how much they love you? Tell you how beautiful you are? Tell you how proud of you they are? My grandma adored with an unassuming consistency that boggles my mind. She was entirely uninterested in my flaws. Unaware of them, even. She was a simple-minded woman with a kind of childlike innocence. She saw the world mainly in absolutes. And when it came to me, I could do no wrong. I can only hope to someday be the person she thought me to be.
I'm also worried about my mom. My grandma has been an utterly constant presence in her life. In all her 56 years, my mom has never lived further than 10 miles away from her. For the past 15 years she's gone over several times a week to take care of things around the house. Not a day goes by that they didn't talk on the phone. And while their relationship wasn't always the happiest, it was most certainly a huge part of my mother's life. She's handling things pretty well, but given her already-chronic depression, I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I've been trying to keep my eating somewhat in check, but honestly, exercise has fallen by the wayside. It just doesn't feel right to act energetic and enthusiastic at a time like this. I just need to focus on finishing up my responsibilities at work so I can hop on a plane back to Indiana as soon as possible.
It's still difficult to reconcile the details. I'm finding I can't really grasp the enormity of it, so instead I'm focusing on the little things. How I won't ever hear her voice again. How her house, the home she's occupied for over 40 years, is now empty. How I'll never again dial her phone number, a number I've had memorized my entire life, and hear her pick up on the other end like clockwork. How she won't get to attend my wedding or meet my children, events that would have meant more to her than I can possibly explain.
I've also been thinking about unconditional love. How many people in your life tell you every time you see them how much they love you? Tell you how beautiful you are? Tell you how proud of you they are? My grandma adored with an unassuming consistency that boggles my mind. She was entirely uninterested in my flaws. Unaware of them, even. She was a simple-minded woman with a kind of childlike innocence. She saw the world mainly in absolutes. And when it came to me, I could do no wrong. I can only hope to someday be the person she thought me to be.
I'm also worried about my mom. My grandma has been an utterly constant presence in her life. In all her 56 years, my mom has never lived further than 10 miles away from her. For the past 15 years she's gone over several times a week to take care of things around the house. Not a day goes by that they didn't talk on the phone. And while their relationship wasn't always the happiest, it was most certainly a huge part of my mother's life. She's handling things pretty well, but given her already-chronic depression, I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I've been trying to keep my eating somewhat in check, but honestly, exercise has fallen by the wayside. It just doesn't feel right to act energetic and enthusiastic at a time like this. I just need to focus on finishing up my responsibilities at work so I can hop on a plane back to Indiana as soon as possible.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Scale is Cooperating. My Mind is Another Story.
After last week’s disappointing weigh in, I was anxious to kick it into high gear to make sure I rocked the next meeting. I kept my eating (fairly) in check and worked out Friday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday night was actually an interesting little incident. I got home from choir practice a little after 10. Given that I leave the house at 7, that put me right around a 15-hour day. Yet I knew if I didn’t get a good workout in, I wouldn’t be down enough in the morning to really rock my weigh in.
I asked Jeff is I could do my video in the living room. He was playing a game and whined a little that he wouldn’t be able to play it in the bedroom. The particular DVD I wanted to do requires more room, so I got frustrated and shut myself in the bathroom. I drew a bath and sulked in the tub. I was irritable; the last thing I wanted to do was an intense workout video, and Jeff’s protest struck a nerve. He immediately came in apologizing, trying to convince me to still do my video. I told him to go away.
Almost as soon as I dismissed him, I realized how much better the bath would feel after a good workout. I thought about how awesome it would feel to have a good loss at my meeting the next day. I got out of the tub, dried off and changed into my workout clothes. As punishment, I made Jeff do an intense 45-minute DVD with me. It was a harder workout than I’d planned, and having him by my side really encouraged me to push myself.
In the morning I saw 197 on the scale. A number I haven’t seen since 2007. I went to my weigh in and registered a very satisfying 2.2 pound loss. I also reached a Weight Watchers milestone: For the first time ever, I weighed in at less than 200 at my official weigh in. It felt so nice to see a 1 on my weight log!
I feel immensely hopeful in achieving this small goal. It feels like real progress. Hitting this lower number has convinced me that, through hard work and steady progress, I can and WILL achieve my greater goal.
Since then, however, I’ve been struggling a bit. My eating hasn’t been outright out of control; I just haven’t been tracking very careful and can feel a “bingey” mindset attempting to break through. Last night I had two glasses of wine and munched all evening. I ate some jelly beans this morning (no idea why) that caused a mild sugar headache. I managed to have a somewhat healthy lunch, but my heart wasn’t in it. I spent the entire meal fantasizing about driving up to Burger King and eating a combo meal in my car. But I didn’t.
I need to get my head back in the game. Every time I reach a lower number, I give up a little and slightly regress to my old ways, until I’m two pounds heavier. Rinse and repeat.
I’m going to start by tracking for the last two days. Every bite.
I’m going to do a workout as soon as I get home tonight. No excuses.
I’m going to track this entire weekend instead of letting myself indulge a little.
My goal for next week’s weigh in is 196 or lower. Can I do it?
I asked Jeff is I could do my video in the living room. He was playing a game and whined a little that he wouldn’t be able to play it in the bedroom. The particular DVD I wanted to do requires more room, so I got frustrated and shut myself in the bathroom. I drew a bath and sulked in the tub. I was irritable; the last thing I wanted to do was an intense workout video, and Jeff’s protest struck a nerve. He immediately came in apologizing, trying to convince me to still do my video. I told him to go away.
Almost as soon as I dismissed him, I realized how much better the bath would feel after a good workout. I thought about how awesome it would feel to have a good loss at my meeting the next day. I got out of the tub, dried off and changed into my workout clothes. As punishment, I made Jeff do an intense 45-minute DVD with me. It was a harder workout than I’d planned, and having him by my side really encouraged me to push myself.
In the morning I saw 197 on the scale. A number I haven’t seen since 2007. I went to my weigh in and registered a very satisfying 2.2 pound loss. I also reached a Weight Watchers milestone: For the first time ever, I weighed in at less than 200 at my official weigh in. It felt so nice to see a 1 on my weight log!
I feel immensely hopeful in achieving this small goal. It feels like real progress. Hitting this lower number has convinced me that, through hard work and steady progress, I can and WILL achieve my greater goal.
Since then, however, I’ve been struggling a bit. My eating hasn’t been outright out of control; I just haven’t been tracking very careful and can feel a “bingey” mindset attempting to break through. Last night I had two glasses of wine and munched all evening. I ate some jelly beans this morning (no idea why) that caused a mild sugar headache. I managed to have a somewhat healthy lunch, but my heart wasn’t in it. I spent the entire meal fantasizing about driving up to Burger King and eating a combo meal in my car. But I didn’t.
I need to get my head back in the game. Every time I reach a lower number, I give up a little and slightly regress to my old ways, until I’m two pounds heavier. Rinse and repeat.
I’m going to start by tracking for the last two days. Every bite.
I’m going to do a workout as soon as I get home tonight. No excuses.
I’m going to track this entire weekend instead of letting myself indulge a little.
My goal for next week’s weigh in is 196 or lower. Can I do it?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Improving Eating Habits
I’m happy to report some excellent progress in changing my eating habits. Here are three specific instances:
Situation #1: Yesterday my colleague and I ran to TJ Maxx on our lunch break. I picked out an adorable new Calvin Klein dress on clearance (size 12!) to wear on Valentine’s Day. As we left the store and approached my car, she suggested stopping by Burger King, which is right next door. I was planning on having a Boca burger on an Arnold’s Sandwich Thin with leftover broccoli, but I conceded and we went through the drive thru. I was extremely tempted to order fries, and she even said to me, “Oh, you can break your diet a little, it’s no biggie.” But I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with no mayo. No fries or anything. It was only seven Points. It wasn’t the best food to fuel my body (the bun was still sugary white bread), but it was certainly one of the better choices.
Situation #2: When I got home from work last night, I was in a terrible mood for some reason. I felt stressed, extremely tired and very anxious. I couldn’t pinpoint the source of my anxiety, which of course only intensified my mental distress. Jeff was working late, so I knew I was on my own for dinner. After a short nap, I rummaged through the cabinets looking for something to eat. I spotted a box of cream of wheat and thought about making a big bowl of it, with lots of butter and sugar (one of my favorite childhood comfort foods). I seriously considered ordering takeout or driving up to McDonald’s. But I was able to talk myself out of it. I made a quesadilla with two whole wheat tortillas, black beans, corn, jalapenos and cheese. It was really big (I called the whole thing 10 Points), but it was filling and nutritious. I didn’t snack the rest of the night. Normally when Jeff isn’t home, I sleep, eat and watch TV. I snack uncontrollably. I managed to avoid that!
Situation #3: Every Friday morning my office has free Panera bagels in the kitchen. Delicious, fresh bagels in every variety you can imagine, complete with multiple tubs of heavenly cream cheese. I always try to resist the bagels’ enticing call, and I fail about 40% of the time. I usually choose the standard plain because it’s lowest in calories. And of course I use the low-fat cream cheese; I honestly can’t taste the difference.
Inevitably, two hours after eating the bagel I feel absolutely terrible. My head feels foggy and heavy, I feel ravenously hungry despite consuming all those calories, and I’m extremely tempted to break into the candy or have some chips/cookies from the snack cabinet. In short, it starts an endless cycle of overeating for the whole day, not to mention how godawful it makes me feel. Some days I have a Fiber One English muffin with cream cheese, just to make myself feel like I’m getting the bagel experience. However, today I made myself some scrambled egg whites in the microwave and paired them with nonfat Chobani and blueberries. That was two hours ago and I still feel fine.
I’m so excited to be listening to my body and learning from its feedback. My body doesn’t like empty carbs with no protein. Apparently after years of feeling like crap after carb-heavy meals, I’m finally starting to catch on!
Situation #1: Yesterday my colleague and I ran to TJ Maxx on our lunch break. I picked out an adorable new Calvin Klein dress on clearance (size 12!) to wear on Valentine’s Day. As we left the store and approached my car, she suggested stopping by Burger King, which is right next door. I was planning on having a Boca burger on an Arnold’s Sandwich Thin with leftover broccoli, but I conceded and we went through the drive thru. I was extremely tempted to order fries, and she even said to me, “Oh, you can break your diet a little, it’s no biggie.” But I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with no mayo. No fries or anything. It was only seven Points. It wasn’t the best food to fuel my body (the bun was still sugary white bread), but it was certainly one of the better choices.
Situation #2: When I got home from work last night, I was in a terrible mood for some reason. I felt stressed, extremely tired and very anxious. I couldn’t pinpoint the source of my anxiety, which of course only intensified my mental distress. Jeff was working late, so I knew I was on my own for dinner. After a short nap, I rummaged through the cabinets looking for something to eat. I spotted a box of cream of wheat and thought about making a big bowl of it, with lots of butter and sugar (one of my favorite childhood comfort foods). I seriously considered ordering takeout or driving up to McDonald’s. But I was able to talk myself out of it. I made a quesadilla with two whole wheat tortillas, black beans, corn, jalapenos and cheese. It was really big (I called the whole thing 10 Points), but it was filling and nutritious. I didn’t snack the rest of the night. Normally when Jeff isn’t home, I sleep, eat and watch TV. I snack uncontrollably. I managed to avoid that!
Situation #3: Every Friday morning my office has free Panera bagels in the kitchen. Delicious, fresh bagels in every variety you can imagine, complete with multiple tubs of heavenly cream cheese. I always try to resist the bagels’ enticing call, and I fail about 40% of the time. I usually choose the standard plain because it’s lowest in calories. And of course I use the low-fat cream cheese; I honestly can’t taste the difference.
Inevitably, two hours after eating the bagel I feel absolutely terrible. My head feels foggy and heavy, I feel ravenously hungry despite consuming all those calories, and I’m extremely tempted to break into the candy or have some chips/cookies from the snack cabinet. In short, it starts an endless cycle of overeating for the whole day, not to mention how godawful it makes me feel. Some days I have a Fiber One English muffin with cream cheese, just to make myself feel like I’m getting the bagel experience. However, today I made myself some scrambled egg whites in the microwave and paired them with nonfat Chobani and blueberries. That was two hours ago and I still feel fine.
I’m so excited to be listening to my body and learning from its feedback. My body doesn’t like empty carbs with no protein. Apparently after years of feeling like crap after carb-heavy meals, I’m finally starting to catch on!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
If It Doesn't Feel Like Work...
…it’s not going to work. I had a pretty disappointing weigh in yesterday. For some reason I jumped .8 pounds from Tuesday to Wednesday. I was feeling sick on Tuesday night and went to bed at 8:00, after having Wendy’s for dinner. I had a large chili with four saltines, a side salad with 2T light ranch and exactly 10 of Jeff’s fries. I was still hungry and unsatisfied after dinner, so I had some nonfat Greek yogurt mixed with canned pumpkin for dessert. I then promptly fell asleep and didn’t wake up until 6:30 a.m.
On Tuesday morning I weight 199.2. I guess the combination of high-sodium fast food and no workout led the scale to read an even 200 on Wednesday morning. I was pissed, but that’s was still a pound less than last week, so I figured I’d be okay at my weigh in. However, I was on a different scale than last time, and it obviously weighs a little heavier because, after my weight registered, the older lady behind the counter said, “You’re up .2, honey.”
Is anyone else familiar with this feeling? Standing on the Weight Watchers scale, nervous because you didn’t have the best week, exhaling all the air out of your lungs in case oxygen somehow affects that number? I hate feeling uncertain about my progress, and I dread the little pep talk they try to give you if you’re up, even by .2 pounds.
I wanted to protest, tell her I weighed myself this morning and there’s no way I’ve gained since then since all I’ve had is a cup of coffee and seven almonds. But then I thought back. Have I been tracking every day? Not really. Have I been measuring all my portions? Definitely not. Did I have too much alcohol? Probably. Did I get in all my workouts? No.
Did I deserve to see a loss? Not really!
I am so sick of that feeling. I feel hopeless and scared that I won’t be able to lose any weight. My initial goal is to lose 5% of my body weight, or 10 pounds. I want to meet this goal desperately. I’ve been stuck around 200 for literally YEARS. I don’t have any concept of what it’s like to weigh under 190 anymore. I won’t feel like any progress is happening until I achieve a loss that matters to me.
I fought tears for the first 15 minutes of my meeting, then I got over it and resolved to keep going. A woman in our group made lifetime yesterday, and in the process of congratulating her, the leader made a comment about maintenance. She said her advice to the woman was to keep going to meetings and stay on the program just like she did before, only eating maintenance-level calories. She emphasized the importance of coming to a meeting every week. I chimed in with a comment: “I’ve decided that, loss or gain, I’m coming every single week. I finally realized that if I just keep going, there’s no way I can’t fail. The only way I’ll fail is by giving up.” Saying those words aloud to a group of strangers really made something click inside me. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt a wave of relief come over me.
This week I’m going to do the work. I’ve been half-assing the program as always, and I’m getting half-ass results. A colleague and I were discussing weight last night at our company’s 2010 kickoff party. I was talking about maintaining this undesirable weight for so long, and how I felt like nothing has worked to help me get the weight off. She said that this weight is my body’s set point. My body does NOT want to move from this number, so I have to do something really different to shake it up in order to see a loss.
I know exercise is the missing link. Hard, intense exercise. I’m going to do the work until I reach my goal, then keep going until I reach the next one. I didn’t fully accept it until I said it aloud: If I don’t quit, I will never fail.
On Tuesday morning I weight 199.2. I guess the combination of high-sodium fast food and no workout led the scale to read an even 200 on Wednesday morning. I was pissed, but that’s was still a pound less than last week, so I figured I’d be okay at my weigh in. However, I was on a different scale than last time, and it obviously weighs a little heavier because, after my weight registered, the older lady behind the counter said, “You’re up .2, honey.”
Is anyone else familiar with this feeling? Standing on the Weight Watchers scale, nervous because you didn’t have the best week, exhaling all the air out of your lungs in case oxygen somehow affects that number? I hate feeling uncertain about my progress, and I dread the little pep talk they try to give you if you’re up, even by .2 pounds.
I wanted to protest, tell her I weighed myself this morning and there’s no way I’ve gained since then since all I’ve had is a cup of coffee and seven almonds. But then I thought back. Have I been tracking every day? Not really. Have I been measuring all my portions? Definitely not. Did I have too much alcohol? Probably. Did I get in all my workouts? No.
Did I deserve to see a loss? Not really!
I am so sick of that feeling. I feel hopeless and scared that I won’t be able to lose any weight. My initial goal is to lose 5% of my body weight, or 10 pounds. I want to meet this goal desperately. I’ve been stuck around 200 for literally YEARS. I don’t have any concept of what it’s like to weigh under 190 anymore. I won’t feel like any progress is happening until I achieve a loss that matters to me.
I fought tears for the first 15 minutes of my meeting, then I got over it and resolved to keep going. A woman in our group made lifetime yesterday, and in the process of congratulating her, the leader made a comment about maintenance. She said her advice to the woman was to keep going to meetings and stay on the program just like she did before, only eating maintenance-level calories. She emphasized the importance of coming to a meeting every week. I chimed in with a comment: “I’ve decided that, loss or gain, I’m coming every single week. I finally realized that if I just keep going, there’s no way I can’t fail. The only way I’ll fail is by giving up.” Saying those words aloud to a group of strangers really made something click inside me. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt a wave of relief come over me.
This week I’m going to do the work. I’ve been half-assing the program as always, and I’m getting half-ass results. A colleague and I were discussing weight last night at our company’s 2010 kickoff party. I was talking about maintaining this undesirable weight for so long, and how I felt like nothing has worked to help me get the weight off. She said that this weight is my body’s set point. My body does NOT want to move from this number, so I have to do something really different to shake it up in order to see a loss.
I know exercise is the missing link. Hard, intense exercise. I’m going to do the work until I reach my goal, then keep going until I reach the next one. I didn’t fully accept it until I said it aloud: If I don’t quit, I will never fail.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Some Thoughts on Accountability
So I've been plugging along these past couple weeks, attending Weight Watchers meeting regularly again. I've been paying for a monthly pass for about a year, but I haven't really consistently gone to meetings. Actually the last time I went to meetings before now was June. Wow...I wasted a lot of money; I could have been using that membership money well AND losing weight this whole time.
Anyway, I've proven to be extremely talkative in the meetings (as usual), and my leader directs her lecture at me a lot and often asks for my thoughts if she sees me nodding my head. I enjoy speaking up; it hammers home how much I need to be there when I realize how much I have in common with all these women (and men). During last week's meeting she asked me how much weight I'd lost, I answered in recent terms, automatically saying, "Well, I just started last week, so only two pounds." Of course everyone still applauded, and she noted that it was still something to be proud of.
Then I thought, "Wait. I should have said 22 pounds, because since I first started back in 2007, that's actually how much I've lost." Then I thought that since I've actually lost 40 pounds from my heaviest weight, maybe I should have said that. Two pounds really doesn't tell my whole story.
I thought about this question later on in the week--am I just beginning again, or is this all a continuation? I've been maintaining this weight for over three years, save for a few fluctuations in either direction. I expressed some frustration to Jeff that I haven't been losing weight faster. I have 50-60 pounds to lose--shouldn't I be seeing those initial big numbers (losses each week of 4-6 pounds) that give people the motivation to continue? "But you're not just beginning. You're not making some huge switch from terrible eating and no activity to perfect eating and tons of activity. It's not a shock to your body."
Good point, huh? I eat relatively well and get a decent amount of exercise, but I don't consistently restrict my calories enough to actually lose.
In comes the importance of accountability. Last weekend I splurged a little food wise in New York. I ate a bagel and some other Jewish deli deliciousness (cheese blintzes, anyone?). Here's a pic of us at the Jewish deli. I'm on the left:
I also ate some Mexican food, lots of drinks and part of a massive cupcakes. I temporarily lost my mind and proceeded to buy four cupcakes to take home:
If you've never been to Crumbs Bakery in New York, beware! These cupcakes were easily the size of large muffins. And NYC posts calorie information everywhere by law, so I actually saw exactly how many calories were in each of these bad boys (around 550-650).
Then for some reason, as soon as we got home I didn't even want them anymore. It was Sunday night, and I knew if I wanted to see a loss at my Wednesday meeting, I'd have to seriously watch my Points and get in some butt-kicking workouts. And that's exactly what I did. And I saw a loss.
Do you think under normal circumstances I would have worked hard to make sure my indulgences weren't reflected on the scale? I really doubt it. I was tired from a long, whirlwind weekend of bus rides, whisking around NYC and sleeping less than six hours a night. The last thing I wanted to do was get some intense workouts in before Wednesday. But I did it, and I saw a loss.
That's how I felt this weekend. We went out to dinner with friends on Saturday night, and while I tried to order smartly, I had several full-calorie beers. But I got my eating in order straight away on Sunday morning. Normally I'd have blown off good eating and exercise on Sunday in favor of waiting until Monday, but I ate really well and did 40 minutes of intense strength and cardio. And the scale was down this morning! Funny how that works. :)
Anyway, I've proven to be extremely talkative in the meetings (as usual), and my leader directs her lecture at me a lot and often asks for my thoughts if she sees me nodding my head. I enjoy speaking up; it hammers home how much I need to be there when I realize how much I have in common with all these women (and men). During last week's meeting she asked me how much weight I'd lost, I answered in recent terms, automatically saying, "Well, I just started last week, so only two pounds." Of course everyone still applauded, and she noted that it was still something to be proud of.
Then I thought, "Wait. I should have said 22 pounds, because since I first started back in 2007, that's actually how much I've lost." Then I thought that since I've actually lost 40 pounds from my heaviest weight, maybe I should have said that. Two pounds really doesn't tell my whole story.
I thought about this question later on in the week--am I just beginning again, or is this all a continuation? I've been maintaining this weight for over three years, save for a few fluctuations in either direction. I expressed some frustration to Jeff that I haven't been losing weight faster. I have 50-60 pounds to lose--shouldn't I be seeing those initial big numbers (losses each week of 4-6 pounds) that give people the motivation to continue? "But you're not just beginning. You're not making some huge switch from terrible eating and no activity to perfect eating and tons of activity. It's not a shock to your body."
Good point, huh? I eat relatively well and get a decent amount of exercise, but I don't consistently restrict my calories enough to actually lose.
In comes the importance of accountability. Last weekend I splurged a little food wise in New York. I ate a bagel and some other Jewish deli deliciousness (cheese blintzes, anyone?). Here's a pic of us at the Jewish deli. I'm on the left:
I also ate some Mexican food, lots of drinks and part of a massive cupcakes. I temporarily lost my mind and proceeded to buy four cupcakes to take home:
If you've never been to Crumbs Bakery in New York, beware! These cupcakes were easily the size of large muffins. And NYC posts calorie information everywhere by law, so I actually saw exactly how many calories were in each of these bad boys (around 550-650).Then for some reason, as soon as we got home I didn't even want them anymore. It was Sunday night, and I knew if I wanted to see a loss at my Wednesday meeting, I'd have to seriously watch my Points and get in some butt-kicking workouts. And that's exactly what I did. And I saw a loss.
Do you think under normal circumstances I would have worked hard to make sure my indulgences weren't reflected on the scale? I really doubt it. I was tired from a long, whirlwind weekend of bus rides, whisking around NYC and sleeping less than six hours a night. The last thing I wanted to do was get some intense workouts in before Wednesday. But I did it, and I saw a loss.
That's how I felt this weekend. We went out to dinner with friends on Saturday night, and while I tried to order smartly, I had several full-calorie beers. But I got my eating in order straight away on Sunday morning. Normally I'd have blown off good eating and exercise on Sunday in favor of waiting until Monday, but I ate really well and did 40 minutes of intense strength and cardio. And the scale was down this morning! Funny how that works. :)
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Still Alive!
Wow, it's been quite awhile since a post! For anyone reading, I promise I'm not falling off into the blogger abyss! I spent two weeks at my parents house in Indianapolis over the holidays, and they actually don't have Internet access. They're periodically able to steal neighbors' unlocked wireless networks, but let's just say it's spotty at best.
Since returning to Boston, I've been hit with the double whammy of 12-hour work days and lots of rehearsals and performances with my choir. But I have some good posts ideas brewing and will make it a priority to get a good one up tomorrow.
Other updates:
Since returning to Boston, I've been hit with the double whammy of 12-hour work days and lots of rehearsals and performances with my choir. But I have some good posts ideas brewing and will make it a priority to get a good one up tomorrow.
Other updates:
- Jeff and I are spending the weekend in NYC! We've never been there together, so I'm really excited.
- I started going to Weight Watchers again on Wednesday, and I'm really excited about it. I've made a promise to myself that I have to go to a meeting every week, regardless of whether or not I think I've lost weight. In the past, I've followed this very distinct pattern: I'll cheat for a bit, not lose very much, skip a meeting telling myself "I'll work hard and go next week," and then voila, it's five months later and I'm five pounds heavier. Not this time!
- I've been pretty on track with my workouts (thank you 30-day Shred), and I've tried some really cool new healthy recipes. More to come!
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