OMGOMGOMGOMG! April 18, 2010

Yes, I’m just *that* excited.

For the first time in a long time, I went back to the gym today. I earned my first Weight Watcher Activity Points!

I was really nervous going in because I knew I wanted to test my knee out on the elliptical and bike, and had no idea what I was in for. My first few moments on the elliptical were dicey – I was kind of afraid to push down on my leg to get it going, but once I did, I hit my groove. Very fluid motion, no real complaints from my knee. I was SO HAPPY. Like, crazy joy happy. Did 10 minutes to start.

The stationery bike, on the other hand, was not so happy-making. I could not find the sweet spot between leg extension and knee bend so it was a problematic experience. Only did 10 minutes on that. I will try again, maybe on a different machine. I’m not convinced it was the repetitive nature that caused me a problem, I think it was just positioning.

So what did I do? Went back to the elliptical. For another 10 minutes. So, 20 minutes total. Which for me, and my knee, is HUGE. My heart rate was in the zone the entire time (both times, actually) and I was all tomato-facey.

Then my husband helped me strength train for another half hour – getting me reacquainted with free weights again. We went through a few sets of shoulders, biceps, triceps, deltoids and bench press. I worked.

And it felt awesome. I can *do* this. There is hope after all.

YAY!

Weight Watchers Day #9 March 23, 2010

Progress, methinks. Progress.

It’s Day 9.

I’ve lost 6 pounds. I’ve been tracking, and staying within my points, and managing my hunger.
I’ve been bringing my breakfast and lunch to work and haven’t been tempted by either the free bagels or the cafeteria.
I have attended a splurge-a-riffic birthday/wine tasting celebration and managed to stay within flex.
I had a crazy jones for red velvet cake with cream cheese icing, so I made 72 mini cupcakes (like 2-bite cupcakes) so I could make them points friendly.

So far, so good I think!

I’m still finding it…tiring…to plan and plan and plan. But it’s gotten a wee little bit easier and I suspect it will continue to do so over time.

My next challenge to overcome is finding a way to be consistently active. Because of my knee issues, activity scares me a bit. I’ve been really gunshy about getting back to the gym or the pool. I’m scared it’s going to hurt but, if I’m going to be completely honest with myself, I’m terrified to find that I might not be able to be active. Because that would make it impossible to lose all this weight. I think that’s the reason I’ve been avoiding. That’s the root of my fear. Huh. Oh boy.

Must.go.to.gym.this.week.

Root me on, peeps.

No LAP Band, No Gastric Bypass…This is Why October 20, 2009

There is a girl I work with who is morbidly obese. She probably weighs what I do – or more – but she’s at least 4 inches shorter than me. Her weight is a significant contributing factor to hip pain and she will soon need hip replacement surgery.

She went through a lot of hoops and red tape to be qualified for lap band surgery and got it nearly a year ago. She made it a very public affair, everyone in the department knew what was up. I believe the thought was that shedding the weight would make it easier to receive and recover from the hip surgery. Lord knows that I will need to do the same when it comes time to go bionic on my knee.

What makes me sad is that she hasn’t lost any weight. At all. And no, I haven’t asked her and yes, I know that on very big girls it’s hard to tell when you drop 50 pounds, let alone 5. But I *know* she isn’t any smaller. And what’s worse, she hasn’t changed her eating habits in the slightest. All junk, all the time. It makes me wonder how she feels about that and why she is not using this “tool” (for lack of a better word).

I think most of all it makes me wonder about motivation and worthiness and all that stuff all over again. I heavily researched the lap band and entertained the notion for longer than I probably should have. My husband was against it – even the slightest risk of permanent damage was enough for him to worry for me. He cares about me more than I do most of the time. That and the no carbonated beverages thing…ever? OMG. :shudder:

Even though I was certainly “fat” enough at the time I looked into it, I didn’t have the co-morbidities that go along with getting insurance to sign off on weight loss surgery. My blood pressure is excellent. No diabetes. No evidence of heart disease. Cholesterol is normal. Nor did I have a supportive doctor to shepherd me through the process. At my most fragile, I went to him for help. And he prescribed me Metamucil. If there is a God/karma/whatever, may he die of constipation.

I digress…

I suppose the osteoarthritis diagnosis I now have might swing the insurance pendulum over to my side, but it’s not something I will ever pursue.

I figured that maybe I could just “pretend” that I had lap band surgery – or gastric bypass – and achieve a similar result. But you can’t really do that. I mean, I could eat 2oz of pureed whatever, sure, but I’m not going to be filled up like I would if my stomach was the size of a golf ball. Changing your behavior is a daunting undertaking. That’s what my coworker can’t seem to overcome. She’s not “working her program” as it were. That’s what worried me the most about going forward with a weight loss surgery. Can I get my mind to go along with what I’m doing to my body? And after going through all that you have to go through – and not be in sync like that – well I just can’t imagine that’s a good place to be.

I’m sad for her though. Wish this whole business of losing weight wasn’t so hard or emotionally draining.

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. October 12, 2009

…until my 5th anniversary Hawaii trip.
Give or take.

It’s here. The one-year mark. How many one-year marks have I noted on my calendar in anticipation of some event where I was “destined” to be thin, er, I mean “healthy”? Um, a lot. Birthdays, graduations, new years, a wedding, a honeymoon, random anniversaries. Sigh.

And here I am…again. Four years ago I sat in a pool with my brand new husband and brand new wedding ring looking out at an ocean in front of me. I think I was about 315 pounds, give or take (I don’t think I weighed that week to avoid the resultant meltdown that would have occurred). I looked cute in the top-half of my suit (and my worse half was submerged underwater) so it was a good moment. But I was still wistful about not being a thin girl in Hawaii. Not wanting to go on steep hikes or riding in a helicopter (I pretended I was nervous about safety vs. admitting that I well beyond the 250-lb limit). I promised…I vowed…that we’d come back on our 5th wedding anniversary, and I would be that thin, fit and healthy girl.

And here I am. At the one year mark. At 350 pounds-ish (could be more, could be less, back to scale avoidance again). Knowing that if I don’t start doing this, I’ll be *lucky* if I go back to Hawaii at that same 315 pounds. And that I will still be that girl who can’t do the steep hikes (and, frankly, I don’t know if I could at 250 pounds. Or 200. Or even 150 given my knee situation), and who can’t put her fat ass on a helicopter. Or a zip line. Or something equally stupid, er, I mean thrilling.

And I’m back to doing the mental math. You know how that goes, right? “Okay, 52 weeks!! If I lose 1 pound a week, that would put me just under 300 pounds. Will I look cute at 299? Or, shall I say, cute enough? If I lose 1.25 pounds a week, that puts me at 285. I don’t remember my 285-days. If lose 1.5 pounds a week, that’s 272 pounds. I know what I’ve looked like at this weight, and it’s kinda cute. My face will be at goal if not my thighs. If I lose 1.75 pounds a week, that’s 91 pounds. That’s almost a hundred! That puts me at 259, just 7 pounds above the lowest adult weight I can remember (post-18 when martian death flu got me to 199 and the angels rejoiced). Of course, the holy grail here would be the magic 2-pounds-a-week that would get me to 246. Which would be awesome. I’d still be obese, mind you. Perhaps even still morbidly so. And I’d still be nearly 100 pounds over what the charts say I should weigh. And I’d still be at a weight where some people start (and are disgusted with themselves for being – I always love that). But 246 is helicopter weight – and even if I don’t go on the death chopper it will be because I *chose* not to, not that I *couldn’t* because I was too fat.”

Exhausting, right? Now I can look at that paragraph and shake my head and find it as ridiculous as you probably do. Yet another plan. Yet another self-improvement kick. Yet another let’s-plot-out-how-life-could-be-if-I-could-just-get-off-my-fat-ass kind of thing. Could I average -2 each week for a year? Entirely possible yes. Entirely possible no. The fact is, I won’t know what is possible until I really start doing and stop procrastinating.

It’s not lost on me that I had WAY more time to do this. I mean, shit, I had 4 years from then ‘til now. And dare I say I’ve had a few freakin’ DECADES to do this for myself before. And yet…didn’t. Didn’t do it for my 16th or 18th or 21st or 25th or 30th or 35th or 40th birthdays. Didn’t do it for graduation. Didn’t do it for, oh, 20+ new years, or my beautiful wedding, or my 1st, 2nd, 3rd, or 4th wedding anniversaries. Didn’t do it when my wedding ring got too tight to wear. Didn’t do it when my gallbladder was tricking me into thinking I was having a heart attack. Didn’t do it when I got an arthritis diagnosis.

I have exactly one year to make this work. To NOT sit in a pool and be wistful because I didn’t do something. To NOT have to wonder what IS worthy enough for me to do this for myself.

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.

The clock is ticking.

Putting Myself Back Together a Bit October 4, 2009

So, as I’ve mentioned before, I have a situation in my life that’s been causing me some stress. There’s nothing I can do to control the situation, I just need to wait it out and see where we net out at. As a result of this anxiety, I’ve resorted to the old tried and true habits that keep me at 300+ pounds. Stuffing my feelings down with whatever is handy – baked goods, vending machine crap, fried shit, you know the drill. Because it “soothes” me. Argh.

I decided this weekend that I’m not giving any more power to this situation, precisely because I cannot control any of it – only my reaction to it. (I’m being vague because it’s not my story to tell, but it affects me.) And that is a sea change for me because I’m a worrier and a planner and an avoider – so focusing on things that I cannot see, smell, or touch today is kind of my thing. I don’t live in the moment. I don’t tackle my demons. I don’t *live* my life. I don’t even know where the days/weeks/months/years go anymore. I feel like I’ve got nothing to show for it other than “future plans.”

Well, feh to that.

I can do whatever it is I want to do, or I can get myself as close to it as humanly possible. I have obstacles to overcome, but they are not insurmountable. They are not life-threatening (knock-wood, cross-fingers, am-not-invoking). They are just hurdles. And I can work with that. What I can’t leap over, I can crawl around.

So…I’m fat. For now. If that’s the worst that someone can call me, or if that’s the flaw I find in myself…that’s okay. It’s not permanent, and it’s not what defines the whole of who I am. Despite my frequent protestations to the contrary, I am still young and vibrant. I am smart and resourceful. Most of the time, I am a good person. Sometimes I’m funny. Occasionally, I think I’m pretty. For a brief shining moment here and there, I feel invincible. I need to remember that I’m not the only one who has dark moments. And when I feel defeated or sad or lonely or old or broken – I need to acknowledge it for what it is. A common feeling. And then I need to remind myself of all the reasons that this feeling is not my truth. It’s not WHO I am, it’s how I’m FEELING at that particular time.

Tomorrow, I’m going to have a good day, no matter what.

It’s Always Going to Be Hard September 28, 2009

I will never forget one of the first “aha” moments I ever had in my never-ending weight loss journey. I was at a gym in the city, sharing a personal trainer with a friend. She was training for a sprint triathlon. I was training for…um…not dying a fat girl. The trainer ran me through the same routine as Triathlon Girl, only a bit modified. At one point I was going up and down on a step, turning beat red with my heart beating so fast I thought I was this/close from it bursting right out of my chest.

As I sat down and gulped for air, it occurred to me that it’s never going to get easier. All this time as I’m going up and down on this damned box, I’m thinking that one day this will all be easier. And my Inner Fit Girl tells my Outer Fat Girl, “Um, no it won’t. Because when it gets easy, it’s not effective. It’s always going to be hard. It HAS to be hard.” And I have to say, it was a fairly crushing blow to me and it’s still something that, many years later, I still fear.

I don’t *do* hard. Hard scares the bajeezus out of me. Hard makes me give up. Hard sucks.

But here’s the rub. EVERYTHING is hard for me now, not just killing myself in a gym. Getting out of bed is hard. Planning is hard. Facing the closet is hard. Hauling my carcass around is hard. And I really can’t give up any of these things, or my entire world – which feels tied together with a thin string these days – would just fall apart. How do I get past this? How do I embrace hard?

And here’s another thing. My psyche is in a precarious position at the moment. I have a new situation in my life that is causing me a great deal of stress and anxiety. It’s one of those situations that is truly unfair and unjust, and one where there are two options available and neither is good. And it’s not something that will be resolved quickly, so it’s a prolonged period of ick that awaits me. And I’m in a place where I have to stare down my own fears and anxieties to be someone else’s rock, beacon of hope, trusted confidante, etc. And that’s hard. Because I am angry and fearful and need my own reassurances. I know that keeping those feelings in, stuffing them down, is a large part of what got me to 300+ pounds in the first place.

Life is hard. Life will throw things at you when you least expect them. Life will send your spirits soaring on Tuesday only to grind them into the ground on Thursday. Life will give you the knowledge and tools to improve your situation, but will obscure your belief that you can do it.

It’s frustrating.

I came into work today on automatic pilot. Bought a muffin the size of my head without really thinking about it. Ate about half of it before really ever tasting it – it was crappy. I did snap out of it long enough to toss the other half in the trash, but I hate those zombie-like moments where we do what we’ve always done. Seek out comfort in a baked good. Not being present or mindful or self-nuturing.

I need my health to be my rock. I need to not stuff down my feelings. I need to lean on people and let them help me in ways I’m not comfortable or experienced with. I need to face these things head on when I’d really just wish them away if I could.

The Gym, The Duke Diet, and Tad Martin July 31, 2009

Following up from the gym. Workout with Trainer CZ (so nicknamed because she looks like Catherine Zeta Jones, my last one looked like Barbie) went okay. It wasn’t a workout as much as it was 30 minutes of kicking the tires to find out if my elbow is fully recovered from tendonitis. And…it’s not. I was in pain the day after. And my knee didn’t really love the bike for the first few minutes but after futzing with the stride and the speed and the resistance, I got it to be less painful. So I’ve got that going for me. Baby steps.

I’ve been on library kick and checked out The Duke Diet, born from the world-renowned Duke Weight Loss residential program (which costs several thousand dollars). And my first opinion of the book is that it’s a crock of shit. Okay, maybe that’s a bit harsh. It has valuable information in it so long as you’re someone who’s never been on a diet or ever tried to lose weight (which would probably mean you’re about 7 years old). If you have, it’s all rehash.

And you know, rehash is fine. Losing weight isn’t rocket science. It’s a formula of calories in, calories out. It’s moving more. I get it. For the hype around the Duke program, I was expecting revolutionary, I was expecting great behavioral insights, and it was the same old same old. Even the recipes were uninspiring (I kind of already knew how to make an open-face cheese sammich, thankyouverymuch). I realize the goal of the book is to be a diet book, and the information presented is simple and rational (and pretty much common sense). But on the whole it was disappointing.

And I’m not stupid enough to sit here and say that my dissatisfaction is entirely with the book. I *know* it’s more than swapping out egg-beaters for eggs, or cutting out booze. If that’s all there was to it, I’d have nipped this in the bud 20 years ago. What I want to get at – no, what I need to get at and don’t know how – is the *why* I eat and think like I do. And I know the answers won’t be in the book, but I was hoping maybe the process of getting to that would be. Ah well. Glad it came from the library.

(And OMG, All My Children just came on. I haven’t seen this in forever. When the hell did Tad Martin get old, gray and bloaty? And…the irony of me saying this isn’t lost on me. )

Know what sucks? July 29, 2009

When you have forgotten your lock combination because it’s been sooooooo long since you were at the gym. Doh! I eventually figured it out, but that was a very frustrating 45 minutes that I will never have back again.

Dumbass.