Love and Hate
I am saddened by the relationship that I have with my scale. It sits under the sink and is, for the most part, ignored by just about the entire family - except me. I know that it's there and I swear I feel it looking at me before each shower. I brush my teeth and try not to make eye contact with the empty black screen that seems intent on staring me into submission. "Just step on board...", it seems to say. I rarely give in. I often walk away, proud of myself for resisting the urge to know the effects of those last few weeks of indulgence. Somehow, after leaving the bathroom, I feel that although I won the battle, the war is slipping away from me. Aren't I the real loser in the end? I remember a time when the scale and I were pals. When we were two soldiers trudging through the battlefield together. I often relied on it to keep a steady path, to stay the course. I can't say when our relationship took a turn. I can't be certain of when we parted ways and I grew to resent it. It was most likely during the cold months of Winter as I packed on some extra pounds. Much of this weight came in the form of sticky toffee cookies, cocktails and pies of all varieties. I sure love the holidays, and I celebrate them by making and eating all things rich and fatty. My diet during those months would make a cardiologist cry. As I indulged, the scale sat unused. Little by little it was pushed further beneath the sink until all you could see was the edge of its white platform. It has been reduced to a dusty relic, hiding in the shadows, fading into the background of my bathroom. Our friendship lies on a stretcher, barely clinging to life.
The Revival
I learned my lesson a while back that when you start a diet, the worst thing you can do is to start weighing yourself in every day...at least initially. This can be discouraging and actually cause a set back if your motivation is already teetering. It's always a good idea to wait a while. Get comfortable with eating better and with your new lifestyle before you start looking for drastic results. It's a great rule. I broke this rule three days ago. I pulled out the scale, tapped it with my foot to turn the sensor on and quickly stepped aboard. I held my breath and waited for the verdict. Defeat. I hadn't lost any weight. I stepped off of the scale and kicked it back under the sink. I was sick with anger and disappointment. I sat on the edge of the tub and, to my astonishment, had to fight back tears. "Why isn't this working??" In the midst of my tantrum I felt a tinge of self satisfaction. I glanced at the scale which was propped up against the wall from the force of my kick. "I knew you would let me down." I was right to ignore it all this time. Right to leave it gathering dust. Justified in shooting it dirty looks and blaming...Oh, who was I kidding? The scale hadn't let me down. I let me down. I shunned the scale so that I could continue to give myself permission to indulge. Let's be honest, I wasn't ignoring the scale, I was ignoring my health. I was being lazy and I was the only one to blame. I was fighting myself. Once the revelation sunk in I stood up, reached under the sink and gently sat the scale upright and in it's usual spot. With the war over I could see more clearly. This wasn't an enemy, but a tool. A guide. I would restore peace with the scale once and for all. But not for at least a week. :)
Friday, June 5, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Race To Fit Four
I call this entry Race To Fit Four because it is my personal goal to lose 17 pounds and fit a size four dress by October 17 - my wedding day.
Let me start with this disclaimer:
I realize that this may seem like a small amount of weight to some - especially those struggling with much bigger goals. I realize that I am not morbidly obese. But I do not feel that I need to be in order to have weight and fitness goals. I want to love what I see when I look in the mirror just as much as the next girl.
I started a diet before I started a blog.
To me this sounds rational...but I think most people start blogs either before or in sync with starting a diet.
Not me!
This can be explained.
I spend more time with Me than anyone else in the world does. I sleep with Me, I eat with Me and live with Me. Hell, I even pee with Me. So I should think that if anyone knows me, it's Me.
That being established, I have become quite comfortable with psychologically self-diagnosing Me.
Self Analysis: When I am heavier (or FULLER) than what I have decided is my "ideal weight range", I don't like me very much. I punish myself for not exhibiting self control by internally invalidating my feelings, thoughts and opinions. Doesn't take long to start projecting this self inflicted negativity onto others. And others usually respond with avoidance. No one wants to be around someone who is negative or self loathing. Internally berate yourself enough and you get pretty good at assuming that others don't really respect what you feel or say either. And why should they? You demand the respect of others by respecting yourself...right?
So before I could start picking at scabs and bleeding on paper (or keyboards), I had to prove to myself that I was worthy. I started the South Beach Diet. I started four days ago and it's going well. Time to start picking.
History - the "Encyclopedia Britannica" version (for the quick version, see below)
When I was 19 years old I weighed 109LBS. I was a skinny, lanky kid my whole life and could eat my body weight in fat and sugar without gaining an ounce. Seems impossible and sickening, doesn't it? Well, ask anyone, it's true - on both counts. I even TRIED gaining weight at one point - weighing as much as a 2x4 makes you sort of look like a 2x4 in the curves department. So, I ate fast food every night for weeks and ate until I felt ill every day...no luck! I put on a measly one pound! I figured I was a direct descendant of Olive Oyl and I would just have to get OK with that. I was fairly active but spent the majority of my time working (retail & waiting tables) and driving around from work to classes. The rest of the time was spent either watching soaps or dancing and partying. Sounds somewhat typical for a college girl, no? Just when I was at the peak of my youth and thought life couldn't possibly get any better or more fun - BLAMMO! - pregnant. Ah well, can't stay in high gear forever - or so I like to tell myself. No more booze, no more partying, no more single friends (pregnant = the plague), and no more senseless eating. I took excellent care of myself and my baby and ate a calorie rich but healthy diet. I gained not only the mandatory 40lbs, but an extra ten, just for good measure! Seemed like that pregnancy hormone solved my issue with weight gain! I had myself a happy, healthy, beautiful little girl, Emily Grace. I done good! The week I came home from the hospital I weighed in at 151. Nine pounds down from dropping a 6.5 pound baby and some water. Now that I had my body back I would love to tell you that I treated it with care and did what I could to get back to pre-baby weight. I would glow with pride if I said that I worked out and ate well and started early at setting a good example for my little girl. I would really love to tell you all that. Oh boy would I! Sadly, I cannot, or I would be lying. And no one likes a liar. So I will tell you what I did...I ate. I breastfed and ate. I ate what I told myself was healthy food...lean meats and white steamed rice...some veggies and lots of fruit. What I ignored was portion size. I still had a pregnant woman's appetite and I satiated myself every day. I figured that the weight would simply fall back off. In those first weeks after Emily came, never was there a single moment when I was in fear that I wouldn't bounce back. Three months later I had a bitter dose of reality. I stepped on a scale and saw them. There, between my big toes, giant red numbers flashing on and off, on and off, as though repeating themselves to me over and over, getting louder every time. They read ONE SIX FOUR. One hundred sixty four?? How in hell's bells did this happen?? I stood there for a long time, my bottom jaw hanging down just below my knees. I held my breath until I almost passed out - this dates back to my toddler days and tantrums I think. But no matter how blue my lips turned the numbers would remain the same. There it was, the awful truth. I wasn't that kid anymore. From a size 1 to a size 11. From a bikini to a one piece and baggy tshirt. From stilettos to flats. From cute panties to control tops. What had I become? At 20 years old I felt old and tired. I felt unattractive and worst of all I felt weak and powerless. That day was the real DAY ONE for me. The starting point in an endless race. From then on I struggled with gains & celebrated losses. Still at it today. Proud to say that I haven't weighed more than 142 since about 6 years ago. It took me three years after I had my daughter to realize that I could do something about being overweight...that I didn't have to wallow in self pity or sit back and miss the days when I loved myself. It was at this time I decided to make more positive changes in my life...both for and because of my child. First step was to remove myself from a negative environment. I started the process of divorce from Emily's dad - young hearts don't always make the wisest decisions and being in an emotionally dependent and unhealthy relationship will almost always stifle the ability to grow. Next was bringing activity back into my life. I joined Curves with my mom and went every morning at 530am. After getting more fit I was still sitting at a less than ideal weight. I did the fast track method to lose the first 25 pounds - Atkins for 45 days. I did the stupid method to lose 15 more - Starvation for months. Of course I gained back the 15 I lost the stupid way. And I gained back another ten for lack of exercise and eating crap. There was a time about two years ago that I was, what I consider, the best version of myself. I weighed about 128 and I was fit and healthy. I ate good things in moderation and I exercised regularly. This, in turn, made Me love me. And that self love and respect oozed from my pours and surrounded me in a cloud of "I'M AWESOME" pheromones. Everyone I met sniffed out the good vibes and loved me too! Top of the world!! It was during this time that I met and fell completely head over heels for my current fiance, Jesse. He's like a heating blanket for my soul. We spent the first year of our relationship in a blissful trance and reveled in feeling fulfilled for the first time in our lives. Figuratively, we sat on a yacht named Content that bobbed about gently in the Gulf of Happiness. But it wouldn't take long for out little boat to reach rough seas. Down went the economy. Down went our saving. Sold went our prized possessions. Since then, I took a full time office job (one of the worst types of jobs to have when it comes to being healthy) and our family economy took a nose dive. You've heard the term, "happy fat"? Well, I'm a different animal. I eat to suppress stress. I eat to feel full and sleepy. Then I sleep to avoid the waking thoughts of stressful subjects. Then I wake up and eat. I'm an "unhappy fat" kind of person. So when life pummelled us with wave after wave of bad luck and bad timing, I regressed.
It's only now that I'm back in a take charge mode. Ready to ride out the waves and find a Sea of Serenity once again. In the meantime, I wouldn't mind squeezing into a size 4 for my wedding day. It's a size and a half away. It's do-able.
History - the "Cliff's Notes" version:
Was young and skinny (too skinny)
Got knocked up.
Gained mandatory prego weight.
Had a baby, lost some weight, but gained more back.
Was fatter three months later than I was on the birthing table!
Left a man
Met a gym
Left a gym.
Met a man named Atkins
Left said man 25 pounds lighter
Met a behavior called Anorexia
Decided to cut ties with Anorexia after losing boobs and booty.
Figured out that I needed exercise and a long term healthy diet
Achieved an ideal Me.
Loved me.
Loved life.
Loved my body.
Met a new man.
LOVED said man.
He loved me, my brain, my body and my faults.
Said "Yes, of course I'll marry you" to said man.
Lost jobs
Lost money.
Gained stress.
Found new job.
Gained fifteen pounds.
Goal: Get back to a size 4 by wedding day - Oct 17th.
The girl:
The Man:
Stats:
Day One Weight: 142
Current Weight: 139
Let me start with this disclaimer:
I realize that this may seem like a small amount of weight to some - especially those struggling with much bigger goals. I realize that I am not morbidly obese. But I do not feel that I need to be in order to have weight and fitness goals. I want to love what I see when I look in the mirror just as much as the next girl.
I started a diet before I started a blog.
To me this sounds rational...but I think most people start blogs either before or in sync with starting a diet.
Not me!
This can be explained.
I spend more time with Me than anyone else in the world does. I sleep with Me, I eat with Me and live with Me. Hell, I even pee with Me. So I should think that if anyone knows me, it's Me.
That being established, I have become quite comfortable with psychologically self-diagnosing Me.
Self Analysis: When I am heavier (or FULLER) than what I have decided is my "ideal weight range", I don't like me very much. I punish myself for not exhibiting self control by internally invalidating my feelings, thoughts and opinions. Doesn't take long to start projecting this self inflicted negativity onto others. And others usually respond with avoidance. No one wants to be around someone who is negative or self loathing. Internally berate yourself enough and you get pretty good at assuming that others don't really respect what you feel or say either. And why should they? You demand the respect of others by respecting yourself...right?
So before I could start picking at scabs and bleeding on paper (or keyboards), I had to prove to myself that I was worthy. I started the South Beach Diet. I started four days ago and it's going well. Time to start picking.
History - the "Encyclopedia Britannica" version (for the quick version, see below)
When I was 19 years old I weighed 109LBS. I was a skinny, lanky kid my whole life and could eat my body weight in fat and sugar without gaining an ounce. Seems impossible and sickening, doesn't it? Well, ask anyone, it's true - on both counts. I even TRIED gaining weight at one point - weighing as much as a 2x4 makes you sort of look like a 2x4 in the curves department. So, I ate fast food every night for weeks and ate until I felt ill every day...no luck! I put on a measly one pound! I figured I was a direct descendant of Olive Oyl and I would just have to get OK with that. I was fairly active but spent the majority of my time working (retail & waiting tables) and driving around from work to classes. The rest of the time was spent either watching soaps or dancing and partying. Sounds somewhat typical for a college girl, no? Just when I was at the peak of my youth and thought life couldn't possibly get any better or more fun - BLAMMO! - pregnant. Ah well, can't stay in high gear forever - or so I like to tell myself. No more booze, no more partying, no more single friends (pregnant = the plague), and no more senseless eating. I took excellent care of myself and my baby and ate a calorie rich but healthy diet. I gained not only the mandatory 40lbs, but an extra ten, just for good measure! Seemed like that pregnancy hormone solved my issue with weight gain! I had myself a happy, healthy, beautiful little girl, Emily Grace. I done good! The week I came home from the hospital I weighed in at 151. Nine pounds down from dropping a 6.5 pound baby and some water. Now that I had my body back I would love to tell you that I treated it with care and did what I could to get back to pre-baby weight. I would glow with pride if I said that I worked out and ate well and started early at setting a good example for my little girl. I would really love to tell you all that. Oh boy would I! Sadly, I cannot, or I would be lying. And no one likes a liar. So I will tell you what I did...I ate. I breastfed and ate. I ate what I told myself was healthy food...lean meats and white steamed rice...some veggies and lots of fruit. What I ignored was portion size. I still had a pregnant woman's appetite and I satiated myself every day. I figured that the weight would simply fall back off. In those first weeks after Emily came, never was there a single moment when I was in fear that I wouldn't bounce back. Three months later I had a bitter dose of reality. I stepped on a scale and saw them. There, between my big toes, giant red numbers flashing on and off, on and off, as though repeating themselves to me over and over, getting louder every time. They read ONE SIX FOUR. One hundred sixty four?? How in hell's bells did this happen?? I stood there for a long time, my bottom jaw hanging down just below my knees. I held my breath until I almost passed out - this dates back to my toddler days and tantrums I think. But no matter how blue my lips turned the numbers would remain the same. There it was, the awful truth. I wasn't that kid anymore. From a size 1 to a size 11. From a bikini to a one piece and baggy tshirt. From stilettos to flats. From cute panties to control tops. What had I become? At 20 years old I felt old and tired. I felt unattractive and worst of all I felt weak and powerless. That day was the real DAY ONE for me. The starting point in an endless race. From then on I struggled with gains & celebrated losses. Still at it today. Proud to say that I haven't weighed more than 142 since about 6 years ago. It took me three years after I had my daughter to realize that I could do something about being overweight...that I didn't have to wallow in self pity or sit back and miss the days when I loved myself. It was at this time I decided to make more positive changes in my life...both for and because of my child. First step was to remove myself from a negative environment. I started the process of divorce from Emily's dad - young hearts don't always make the wisest decisions and being in an emotionally dependent and unhealthy relationship will almost always stifle the ability to grow. Next was bringing activity back into my life. I joined Curves with my mom and went every morning at 530am. After getting more fit I was still sitting at a less than ideal weight. I did the fast track method to lose the first 25 pounds - Atkins for 45 days. I did the stupid method to lose 15 more - Starvation for months. Of course I gained back the 15 I lost the stupid way. And I gained back another ten for lack of exercise and eating crap. There was a time about two years ago that I was, what I consider, the best version of myself. I weighed about 128 and I was fit and healthy. I ate good things in moderation and I exercised regularly. This, in turn, made Me love me. And that self love and respect oozed from my pours and surrounded me in a cloud of "I'M AWESOME" pheromones. Everyone I met sniffed out the good vibes and loved me too! Top of the world!! It was during this time that I met and fell completely head over heels for my current fiance, Jesse. He's like a heating blanket for my soul. We spent the first year of our relationship in a blissful trance and reveled in feeling fulfilled for the first time in our lives. Figuratively, we sat on a yacht named Content that bobbed about gently in the Gulf of Happiness. But it wouldn't take long for out little boat to reach rough seas. Down went the economy. Down went our saving. Sold went our prized possessions. Since then, I took a full time office job (one of the worst types of jobs to have when it comes to being healthy) and our family economy took a nose dive. You've heard the term, "happy fat"? Well, I'm a different animal. I eat to suppress stress. I eat to feel full and sleepy. Then I sleep to avoid the waking thoughts of stressful subjects. Then I wake up and eat. I'm an "unhappy fat" kind of person. So when life pummelled us with wave after wave of bad luck and bad timing, I regressed.
It's only now that I'm back in a take charge mode. Ready to ride out the waves and find a Sea of Serenity once again. In the meantime, I wouldn't mind squeezing into a size 4 for my wedding day. It's a size and a half away. It's do-able.
History - the "Cliff's Notes" version:
Was young and skinny (too skinny)
Got knocked up.
Gained mandatory prego weight.
Had a baby, lost some weight, but gained more back.
Was fatter three months later than I was on the birthing table!
Left a man
Met a gym
Left a gym.
Met a man named Atkins
Left said man 25 pounds lighter
Met a behavior called Anorexia
Decided to cut ties with Anorexia after losing boobs and booty.
Figured out that I needed exercise and a long term healthy diet
Achieved an ideal Me.
Loved me.
Loved life.
Loved my body.
Met a new man.
LOVED said man.
He loved me, my brain, my body and my faults.
Said "Yes, of course I'll marry you" to said man.
Lost jobs
Lost money.
Gained stress.
Found new job.
Gained fifteen pounds.
Goal: Get back to a size 4 by wedding day - Oct 17th.
The girl:
The Man:
Stats:
Day One Weight: 142
Current Weight: 139
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