It’s Going to Stick April 20, 2010

A good friend and I are both working to make this weight journey one that will “stick.” We’ve each had our own fits and restarts and we’re both really pulling for this to stick with the other.

And today, for the first time, I really have a feeling in my gut that it will.

After leaving work today, I was headed to the gym. Sore muscles be damned, I was going to try that elliptical again. While sitting in traffic, my plans got derailed. I heard a large CRUNCH and before I could look into my rear view mirror, my car was struck from behind – HARD – and then I hit the car in front of me. I was the third car in a four-car accident.

I’m fine. The woman I hit (Car 4) was fine. The woman (Car 2) who hit me was a basket case. The woman who hit her (Car 1) – who was responsible for hitting ALL OF US – had an “Oh, Fuck” look on her face. Car 1 and Car 2 went to the hospital in an ambulance. Car 4 was fine. I have a stiff neck. I knew the second I was hit that my head was jerking forward. Meh. Thankfully, that’s the worst of my injuries (aside from the nervous-belly-hands-shaking reaction). My car? I don’t even want to talk about it right now. Whatever. It’s on someone else to fix it.

So other than my drama, what’s my point here? I’m not eating. I’m not eating (or drinking) my fear. I’m not eating (or drinking) my frustration. I’m not eating (or drinking) my oh-my-God-I-want-to-shake-that-woman-for-not-paying-attention rage. I’m not eating (or drinking) my self pity. I’m not eating (or drinking) my sense of I-deserve-something-for-dealing-with-that.

I feel jittery and shaky. I feel stiff and sore and unsure of how this is going to progress. I feel unsettled. I had to page my husband at his fitness center and have him drive an hour out of his way to come get me, and even thought it’s not rational, I feel guilty. I don’t have time to deal with this. I am feeling anxious about all the logistics crap I have to work through tomorrow. I am FEELING all of these feelings without food or booze as an anesthetic. I am not eating or drinking it away.

It’s not that I don’t want it – because I do. I really freaking do. But I know that food won’t help and I am actively choosing to respect my points – and respect myself. That’s the key.

And I’m proud of that.

I think it’s going to stick this time. I really do.

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!

My Life in Boxes April 11, 2010

I spent a good part of yesterday “Spring cleaning” our master bedroom and study. I’d intended to do more but I got derailed by a lengthy visit down memory lane in the form of five (yes, five) boxes of “for when I’m skinny” clothes.

I figured it would be a quick eyeball of things and I’d be on my way but that was not the case. I opened each box and carefully inspected each item. There had to be close to 100 different items of clothing by the time I was done.

Some of them I’d worn in the past and I ache to wear again.
Some were keepsake items of my previous “before” weights.
Some didn’t fit even back in the day and had tags on them…still waiting to see the light of day.

I often say that I don’t think or care much about clothes. I say that because I find no joy in the shopping experience. My goal is pretty simple – find something that covers me (not “fits”) and in a style/color I don’t hate. But truth be told, I do care. Of course I care. I have pride and vanity and I want to look good. I desperately want to enjoy clothes and clothes shopping.

I want to look soft and pretty when I’m out on a date with my husband, and hot and sexy when we’re behind closed doors. I want to look crisp and professional when at work. I want to look all cute and jaunty when out with the girls. I want to throw open my closet doors and be overwhelmed with options, not relegated to Option 2 of 5. I know I care, I just have locked those feelings away in order to deal with my current situation.

And opening those boxes yesterday opened up those feelings. I was surprised to discover how much I *cared* about the clothes in the boxes.

There was the knit black dress, circa 1990. And it still looks great. And when I wore it I was around 200-210, and I thought I looked hot in it. No idea what size it is…because I suck and I cut all the sizes out of my clothes so no one else could see them. Sigh. It’s probably an XL, but clingy. I would wear this out to all the clubs along with a leather blazer. I smile more at the memories vs. the actual dress. And I sigh in regret, too. I was so close to goal back then. If only…

Also from that timeframe was the garnet skirt. Closest thing to a pencil skirt I’ve ever owned and I loved it then, and I loved it again yesterday. It’s probably a size 16. It looks so small.

There was the red sweater with black zipper, circa 2003. A friend who’d lost weight was cleaning out her closet and gifted me with this gem. It was a little snug into it but I was confident that I’d wear it soon. Still want to…still waiting.

Then came the Race Box. The Race Box is filled with t-shirts from various fitness events that I actually participated in. Had to be at least ten of them and the irony is that they’re all in pristine condition – because while I was “fit” enough to partake in the activity, I could not FIT into the commemorative shirt.

Then more recent history. There was the burgundy shirt I wore on my first-ever date with my now-husband. There’s the baby blue and white shirt I wore to a birthday brunch with my girlfriends – incidentaly, one of the best pictures ever taken of all of us. There’s the paint-stained t-shirt I wore when decorating my first-ever home. There were a TON of sleeveless shirts I wore throughout one of the best summers of my life. A silk robe I wished closed a bit tighter. Looking at them all, it’s hard to believe they ever covered my body – they look like they shrunk in the wash, but I know they haven’t.

There were four pairs of jeans. I have never really worn jeans because my shape makes it hard to find good-fitting jeans.

There was a pair of size 22 jeans, another weight-loss friend’s castoff, that I tried for the LONGEST time to get into, and the angels SANG when I finally did. Me! In Jeans! I finally felt normal. No more. There was a pair of size 20 black jeans that *were* to be my next goal. I’m not sure if they’ve ever been unfolded. There are two more recent pairs of jeans, size unknown (yep, tag cut off) that I know I wore the year of my wedding. Don’t fit.

Last, but not least, I found The Magic Dress. The Magic Dress is a size 18/20 black polyester shirtdress with a johnny collar and front zipper. It hits at the knee, is flared, and damn cute. It got the “magic” designation because nearly ANYBODY with ANY BODY TYPE could wear this dress. My girlfriends are all built differently, but it didn’t matter which one of us put the dress on, it worked. It camouflaged flabby tummies and ample hips. It’s been worn to death and still looks Day One fresh. I didn’t have the heart to even try on The Magic Dress yesterday, for fear of tarnishing its reputation. It’s back in the box.

They’re all packed back in their boxes, along with those memories and feelings. Just waiting for me.

I’ll be there soon.

Happiness Project Commandment: Give Thanks Often April 7, 2010

I think from time to time we all say things – either out loud or to ourselves – about how miserable we are, how much we hate our lives, etc. I know I’ve done all that on occasion (um, okay, yesterday, thanks to the second round of ebola-like cold virus in a month).

But this isn’t what we (ok, *I*) should be sending out to the Universe, because that just invites trouble. We should find a way to give thanks more often for the blessings and good things we do have.

Today, I give thanks…

for the roof over my head
and the green grass, and budding trees, and blooming tulips that are just outside my window
and that the dumbass woodpecker who flew into said window and knocked himself out actually recovered and flew away (even if he made me fret for a half-hour watching him to see if he was alive/hurt/fly-worthy)
that I can *usually* breathe through my nose (just not this week, apparently)
that I can stand and walk under my own power
that I can see, smell, taste, hear, and touch things
that I have love in my life
and friends
and furbabies
and a j-o-b (which, by the way, gave me a surprise, didn’t-at-all-see-that-coming raise on Monday)
and that my batshit director has been mellow-ish lately
that I can pay my bills (even if I bitch about them)
that I am free to think and say anything I want, even if it’s stupid or self-centered or offensive
that I was open to trying Weight Watchers again
and that it’s working (because I’m working it)
and that I’m *finally* using it as a crutch to get me *through* rocky times vs. abandoning it
that Melissa got her conniving ass kicked off Biggest Loser 9 for good – GOD I HATE her!
that Hulu lets me catch up on Lost
that Glee is finally coming back (how stupid was that hiatus, anyway?)
that I have a girlie lunch date next week
that I’m going to Hawaii in 27 weeks. gulp.

Lots to be thankful for.

Weight Watchers Day #2 March 15, 2010

So far, so good. Which is saying a lot given that I’m not the best at following through. Day 2 and I’ve stayed within points. I get sooooo many points, it almost seems criminal to eat them all.

I attended another meeting today just to see if another leader or group felt more like home. Eh. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t any better/worse than yesterday’s meeting. So we’ll see. I may try a few more meetings close to home/work just in case there is something out there that will really click with me.

I’ll tell you what has been hard – the planning. The whole internal dialogue of what’s good/what’s bad/what *should* I eat/etc. It’s exhausting. I literally spent a half hour at my kitchen table yesterday doing the mental math of what was in my home inventory and where it ranked on the “appropriateness” scale. I finally ended up with a salad that I would have never contemplated before. It was okay. And today I spent another half hour cooking up a whole new dish for lunch. My husband is already worried that my plan won’t be sustainable. Sigh.

I need serious help with lunch ideas. I’m trying to stay away from processed foods so all my previous go-to ideas like Lean Cuisines, Bocas, etc., are off the table. I need variety, something that will fill me up, and that Michael Pollan would define as “food.” And something that doesn’t require a second round of dishwashing at 9pm at night!

Not as easy as one might think.

Oh! I almost forgot…

BIG NEWS…I took the batteries out of my scale. If I’m going to trust in Weight Watchers, I’m going to trust in Weight Watchers. I’m not going to play the “but I way 2 pounds less at home!” game. No batteries = no home scale = whatever the scale at WW says, that’s what I go with. I will let them help me deal with the inevitable ups and downs.

Back. March 14, 2010

I fell of the face of the earth for a while.
But I’m back to ride this out through the finish.

I joined Weight Watchers today. Weighed in at 363. Gulp.
There, I said it.

Here’s to a new adventure…

Happiness Project Update February 1, 2010

To be honest, I’m having some challenges gaining traction on this. “Life” keeps getting in my way. Go figure, right? Seems to be my pattern. But I have made some positive strides, and that’s worthy of celebration. So…yay strides!

Be Imperfect:
So…I’ve been thrown into a sink-or-swim project at work. For the most part I’m swimming, but it’s not with a high degree of personal confidence. See, decades of fat girl thinking has twisted my brain into believing that I need to work harder and smarter than my colleagues – because being fat is a flaw, dontchaknow. I’ve turned being fat into a personal indictment that I must overcome in every new situation. That said, I’ve never worked on this type of project, have no formal training, and no road map. We’re winging it. To say this has been unsettling is an understatement. Typically I would try to overcompensate for my insecurity by doing more than needed, not setting boundaries, working well into the night, etc. But my reaction to this situation post-Happiness Project has been different. My need-to-be-a-rock-star-self has had to put my ego on a shelf and accept that I’m *not* going to hit a home-run every time and that’s okay. “Being imperfect” has helped me begin to realize that work doesn’t define me, or perhaps most importantly, it doesn’t redeem or condemn me.

Love Myself
This is my theme for this month. Every day I am going to try to do (at least) one thing that is self-nurturing. Today, I planned and took a delicious and healthy lunch. Tomorrow, I’m getting a much-needed haircut, color, and eyebrow shaping.

Own My Crazy
Shortly after getting engaged, I warned my darling husband-to-be that I was, in fact, crazy. I told him that I have fears and anxieties that I couldn’t even describe. I eventually lost count of how many times over the months and years to follow that I tried to give him an “out” to save himself from my crazy. It’s only been recently that I’ve felt comfortable sharing some of those things – how and why I can immediately go to a dark place about the same kind of thing that someone else wouldn’t think twice about. And as scary as the dark place can be, I was even more fearful of revealing my “true self.” And now having done some it I can say that it *is* scary but it’s also quite the relief that what I see as “crazy” he sees as “quirky.”

More on the other commandents tomorrow…

An Open Letter to My Inner Fat Girl January 17, 2010

Dear Inner Fat Girl,

Hi. We don’t normally take the time to chat, so this may be a bit of an awkward conversation, but let’s see how it goes. There’s a few things that I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.

First, please know that I hear you. All day, every day, I hear you. You needn’t shout. You needn’t make it difficult for me to concentrate on anything else. I hear you. And I understand you.

I know where you’re coming from. I know that you hurt. I know that you’ve been left, and that being left sucks. And I’m sorry for your pain. I understand why you lash out at me when you’re scared and frustrated – and when you’re afraid I will leave you. I know you don’t want to be alone. I know you say things to me that come from pain, not from the truth. I get it.

What I would like you to know is that it doesn’t have to be this way. I wrote a blog about exorcising you from me because, well, you’re mean. And I don’t deserve your cruelty. But if you work with me a little bit, I won’t try to send you away. You need to trust me that what I need to do for myself can make us both happy.

When I feed you new foods, it’s not to starve you. It’s to make us healthy and nourished. You need to help me by embracing this change and stop whispering about this food or that food until it makes me crazy. Please encourage me to prepare my meals in advance and discourage me from thinking I can “wing it.” You can’t possibly enjoy the crap I stuff down our throat when I’m in that situation.

When I get up the nerve to go to the gym, it’s not to punish you. It’s to help make us strong and powerful and confident. And, you know, the chance to wear some new and smaller clothes once in a while. Please help me by not being afraid of working hard. It might not be the easiest or most comfortable thing we’ll do, but we won’t die. And, you know as well as I do, that you don’t complain to me as much when you see that we’ve gone a little bit longer, or farther, or heavier. I promise that if you give me just a little bit of effort and a little less whining, I won’t go all Jillian Michaels on us. Pinky swear.

When I look into the mirror, please help me feel better about what I see. Be kinder to me. Instead of parroting back my own insecurities, try something new and pay me a compliment. Help me appreciate what I have now, and love myself for who and what I am today, so that I can feel hopeful and honest about creating a me that’s more “me.”

Don’t be afraid of losing our “armor.” It’s not a shell, and it’s not tough. It doesn’t protect us so much as it buries us. Losing it and become smaller will bring some changes, and some of those changes will be scary. Getting smaller in a lot of ways will make us seem “bigger.” People may notice us a little more, and pay more attention to us, and that can be a little squicky – but we can handle that. We’ll work through that together.

No matter how I change my body or my mind, I will always have you with me to remind me where I’ve come from. I love you, Inner Fat Girl. You have always been worthy of love, even if you didn’t believe it. I know you have done what you thought was best sometimes. I know you’ve tried to protect me from taking risks. I know you’ve tried to console my pain. You have taught me some valuable things throughout the years. How to be more compassionate to others who walk down this road. How to stay grounded and not get a big head. You’ve tried to care for me in the best way you know how. Now it’s time to let me take care of you and make you the best you can be. Please let me.

Help me want this as much for me as I want it. Be my partner. Be my friend.

Love,

Me & Inner Fit Girl

Happiness, Obscene Fish Tacos, and Biggest Loser 9 January 4, 2010

Well, today was an interesting first day practicing “happiness.”

The good…

I was *finally* able to recite my 11 commandments by heart for the first time. The “give thanks” and the “live, don’t exist” kept escaping me. I’m guessing I need to work on those first!

I got enough sleep, joined my husband for breakfast (normally he eats and I sleep), and started my day on a positive note – even though I was coming back to work after 11 straight days off. Way harsh.

Two colleagues and I were treated to lunch in celebration of our supreme awesomeness, and with no prior knowledge of the restaurant, I made some really good choices.

If I may digress slightly…I chose chicken tortilla soup and one chicken enchilada. It was a toss up between those and the grilled mahi mahi tacos. Can I just tell you that I found out later that the tacos were 3x the calories and 70+ grams of fat. FOR FUCKING GRILLED FISH TACOS (On the Border have you lost your damn mind?).

I opened up a bit to a friend and, in turn, she opened up to me. Both feelings were awesome.

The not-so-good (or, rather, the *future opportunities*):

First night home and I caved on my “no checking work email.” I did contemplate the decision for a while but I figured a quick check to satisfy my curiosity was much better than obsessing over the entire evening. All things considered, I made the right choice tonight but…yeah.

—

Tomorrow will be fun. A friend and I are doing our own Biggest Loser thing. The theme of Season 9 is Couples and we’re Team Plaid. We will have an official weigh in tomorrow, trade updates with food journals, and “compete” against a chosen contestant (our goal will be to lose 10% of what they do – as noble as our intentions are, I’m just not seeing -22 pound weekly weight losses).

My goal for the Season 9 finale will be 10% of whatever I weigh tomorrow.

Okay, Here’s Where I’m At November 29, 2009

Extended absence is ending today. When I’m here – when I am actively participating in my “recovery” – I do well. When I don’t, I flail. I am tired of flailing.

Yesterday I got on the scale and it was 354.4. And that simply will not do. I cannot spend the rest of my life at this weight. With a 3 before my weight. I truly do not know what is possible for me to accomplish but I damn well know I was in the 200s for a good part of my life (longer than I’d like) and that’s my goal. Nebulous as that is, it’s still a great goal for me.

I spent the day putting my house in order, literally and figuratively. I find that when I’m floundering, everything else around me in a similar state of disarray. I cleaned out my junk drawers. I found my bathroom counter again (dood…it was bad). I organized my dresser. I made life easier for me in the mornings. All of these are good things.

I came across some clothing items that don’t fit and I gave them a good look. Some I tossed. Some I designated as a “Spring” goal and they’re folded away and waiting for me. These items are completely realistic goals for Spring…and it would be lovely if they were a bit biggish by then. So…I’ll be checking back on the first day of Spring 2010 and let you know how that goes.

In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about the New Year and resolutions. And I cringe even typing that because I KNOW you’re all rolling your eyes at me –> the girl who cannot achieve a goal is thinking about resolutions? Srsly? I know. But it’s what I do. It’s the annual Self-Improvement Project.

This year, I think, I’m going to go about it a bit differently. I read a snippet in a magazine about The Happiness Project, and I am intrigued. I don’t know about you but I could do with a SERIOUS dose of happiness about now. So, I’m going to make it December’s goal to read up more on this and come up with my monthly resolutions/goals/aspirations. Oh, and I will resurrect my Scale Experiment for December. Of course, I just decided this right after I deleted that page. Impulse decision much?

Also on the docket for 2010 – better nutrition. I’ve decided that we’re going to purchase a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) share. I found our farm through through Local Harvest. Starting in Spring and going through early December next year, I’ll be picking up a box of produce from a local farm each week. This is from the farm’s website:

The average amount of produce received is slightly more than half a bushel. This is equivalent to a standard grocery bag. Here are some examples of what to expect:
* Typical Spring Vegetable Share: 1 Bunch of Radishes, 1 Bunch of Baby Beets, 1 Bunch of Green Onions, 1 Bunch of Baby Carrots, 2 Heads of Lettuce, 1 Bag of Spinach, 1 Bag of Buckwheat Sprouts
* Typical Summer Share: 2 Heads of Broccoli, 1 Bunch of Carrots, 3 Medium Zucchini, 1 Head of Garlic, 1 Head of Lettuce, 1 Bunch of Swiss Chard, 1 Bunch of Basil, 1 Pound of Green Beans
* Typical Fall Share: 4 Pounds of Potatoes, 2 Pounds of Winter Squash, 1 Bag of Spinach, 1 Bunch of Thyme, 8 Ounces of Cranberries, 1 Head of Cabbage, 2 Medium Onions

It’s a romantic idea for me now – local, fresh-tasting fruits, vegetables and herbs. Gorgeous greens and vibrant reds and and…other colors I’m sure. Now, my husband is dubious because I am not exactly a veggie girl. I mean, I like corn. And, to be honest, the list above is recognizable to me. I went through their weekly newsletters and found a few things I’ve never quite heard of before like…celeriac? But I’ve been experimenting with roasting vegetables lately and it’s gone very well. Then again, I imagine I could roast just about anything with a little olive oil and garlic and it would be edible. Doing this has helped me to conquer a serious phobia of cooked cauliflower and Brussels sprouts. And that gives me hope. So celeriac here I come!

So, yeah, that’s where my head’s at right now. There’s a lot more beneath the surface that I’m trying to take control of. Like the fact that I’m TRYING to find my zen for the next two weeks where I’ll be in the midst of a work project that’s high visibility and one that I’m not suitably trained for. It makes me vulnerable and that scares me. And…huh…that’s the first time I’ve been able to articulate my unease about it. So that’s got to be a positive step forward, right? And being scared/stressed leads me to make THE most unhealthy choices so I’m trying to spin it in my head a bit. It’s just a job. The people who will be evaluating me KNOW this is not my forte. They know I’m doing the best I can with little resources and training. And it will be fine. It’s not rocket science, and it’s not curing cancer. It. Will. Be. Fine.

It will be fine.
It will be fine.
It will be fine.
It will be fine.
It will be fine.
It will be fine.
It will be fine.

And finally, I just want to say thank you for the few people who read this. I love you. And I know that it’s going to be a long process of ups and downs and pitfalls and setbacks (and…let’s start being more positive here) and successes and GOALS ACHIEVED.