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Of course the first thing I did upon waking up this morning was to leap onto my own scale. It wasn’t too bad – a one pound gain. Considering I’ve been doing nothing but eat in restaurants for a week, and I only truly exercised two days out of six, I’d say that is not bad at all. I’m not worried. I’m feeling pretty confident overall, and the whole idea of eating less is getting more and more appealing, rather than depriving.

I gave out several dozen chocolate hearts on Valentine’s Day and did not eat one. The idea of actually eating sugar made my teeth hurt. I’m happy because I think this means I’ve successfully desugared my tasted buds. Yay! It was fun giving out those red foil wrapped hearts though – I gave them to my writer friends, to hotel employees, to taxi drivers and anybody I came across, really. People were so surprised and happy to receive those sweet little Valentines!

It was great to see my daughter, although too brief, really less than a day.

I’m glad to be back home and hopeful that now I can establish a solid routine, especially of exercise.

2

Just Because There’s A Scale I Don’t Have to Step On It

I’m in the nice hotel. Had a great workout on the elliptical this morning in their fitness center. They have a medical scale. I did NOT step on it, given the debacle of what happened last time. I’m going to wait until I get home, to my own scale.

I’m worried about my daughter. She had a little setback and I think is being very rough on herself, and when you feel that bad, things don’t tend to go well. I’m sending her love and compassion and hoping she can get through this time and be kind to herself. She has helped me so much and I just hope she can be as good to herself as she has been to me.

3

Another Little Milestone

So after my learning experience at the party, I got back on the wagon yesterday and did pretty well, food-wise. So yay.

But today I did something that was very unusual for me: I did a workout, BY MYSELF, and exerted myself a LOT. Normally, I only do these very intense workouts when my trainer is cracking the whip at me, a la Jillian Michaels. When I’m on my own, I tend to just.. walk. Sure, I walk a long time- often up to 90 minutes, but I’m rarely heaving and panting and wanting to fall down and cry. I just don’t do that to myself.

But today I went to the cemetery where my trainer often takes me, and I took myself through a workout that until now I have only do with him. It was a beautiful day. The cemetery is an awesome place to work out because it’s stunningly gorgeous, it’s free, and there are infinite ways in which one can push oneself physically. His favorite routine is to put people through a circuit that involves these verrrrrrrrry long stairs, and these steep concrete ramps. Just like with the hill, I decided to do the ones I hate the most. I did five flights of stairs, running, and five long ramps, also running (not fast, just little joggy runs). It was HARD. It was damn hard. I had my iPod, though, and made myself keep up with my music. (favorites: Prince’s “When Doves Cry,” Ferron’s “It Won’t Take Long” and Pure Prairie League “Amy”) When I was done, I was panting hard, red as a beet and sweaty. Which is usually how I finish my workouts with him, but NEVER how I am alone.

I came home and the scale showed me a happy number. 🙂

And: can I say that I’m excited because the Biggest Loser is on TV tonight. I predict that the Browns will go home.

2

Dagnabbit.

Another @*#&! learning experience!

I was doing SO WELL this weekend! Until last night, my small downfall, but still, at this point, small things can undo me. So, I planned a potluck dinner with some great women friends. I was so excited. I made a beautiful healthy fibery Greek lentil soup (with lemon and rosemary). Everyone who brought food brought SUPER healthy stuff; vegan dishes, salads, etc. Which is what “confused” me. If people had brought huge pans of lasagne, or cakes and whatnot, I would have stayed away with a ten-foot pole, but the healthy food was so delicious looking that I ended up filling my plate too full. I was not attending to portion control because I was so excited and happy to be with all of these women. I ate too much. THEN, when people were having dessert (which I did not touch), I went back and had another 1/2 bowl of soup as “my dessert.” What was that about? I was already full! But I guess I wanted to have something when everyon else was eating chocolate brownies and pound cake and biscotti.

I felt fuller than I had in a long time. Bleah.

And this morning, I was up .8 lb. Not a huge amount, but damnit I wanted to keep going DOWN DOWN, and I could’ve if I’d kept my wits about me last night.

So I’ve brought my lunch to work and have it all carefully planned out.

Another (ouch) learning experience.

Take home lesson: Just because it’s “healthy” doesn’t mean you can eat a ton of it. DUH.

2

A Dreaded Little Plateau and a Big Hill

I hope it’s little. I hope it doesn’t last too long. But the scale has not budged since I got home from vacation, and I am sad about this. I am trying not to be too sad or to let it get me down. What does Dr. Beck say about this?

She says,

You should expect occasional weight gains or plateaus, even if you’ve been doing everything right.

I’m not sure I’ve been doing everything right. I can certainly step it up especially in the exercise department. One thing I’ve done that I’m very proud of is that I organized a Hill Challenge, climbing the hill that is my nemesis and which I HATE with a passion. But I am thinking, maybe I can make that hill my friend. I would love to be able to climb that hill without feeling like I am dying.

I organized an Event on Facebook and invited a bunch of people to come. Three people signed up! So I can’t back down. I am actually shocked that I have done this; that I am voluntarily doing something that I normally dread. BUT I have a secret hope that since I am 9 lbs lighter than the last time I did the hill, it will feel somewhat better or somewhat less awful this time. I also hope my friends don’t hate me for introducing them to this form of torture.

2

Reality Check

Back home now, to the Home Scale. So there was good news and bad news. The bad news is that it didn’t reveal that I’d lost six lbs on vacation, like the scale in the fitness center said. More like two. But I also consider that great news; to be able to lose two pounds on vacation where I was constantly eating in restaurants or at buffets and even had some slip ups. And two pounds is really what I consider “real weight” and not water-weight or other factors. I was suspicious of that huge “loss” anyway so I am not massively disappointed. I feel like now that I am home I can get to the real work.

2

Relief, and Enduring Discomfort

I went back to the fitness center this morning and YAY the scale was the same nice, low number that it was two days ago. WITH clothes.  So yay, and a pox on that stupid mall bathroom scale!  (WHY do I do these things???)

Between our room and the fitness center there is an ice-cream shop right on the corner. I have to walk right past it a few times a day. They make those warm homemade waffle cones and the smell is overpoweringly enticing.  I don’t necessarily even want ice cream, but the smell of those cones is incredible. (one good thing to remember is that smelling doesn’t cost any calories)

I remembered something from this great book I’m reading, as I smelled the waffle cones on my way back from the gym. One thing they ask is to rate your discomfort in dealing with some weight-loss challenge. Ie, how uncomfortable do you feel on a scale of one to ten, when you have to avoid something that you want to eat. First, make your scale. One is sitting comfortably in a cushy chair, and ten is childbirth. (HA) I’d say, walking by that waffle smell is about a 2 or 3 on that scale. In other words, I can deal with it. Take about ten steps and it’s over.

Now I’m going to meet a buddy who has gestational diabetes and we can have a healthy luch and bemoan the state of our pancreases (pancreii?) together. Yay.

2

The Scale is a CrazyMaker

Update on the scale nonsense: I did actually find a scale here where we are on vacation, at the fitness center. It’s one of those super official medical scales, with the slide weights. I tend to trust those more than any other kind of scale. So I stepped up on it yesterday, with my clothes on (I was in the middle of this gym with about a dozen other people in it!) but with no shoes.  I kept jiggling with it and it showed what looked like a few pound weight gain. OK, well, whatever. Then I realized it was ten pounds LOWER than I thought. Which meant I’d lost six lbs since coming on vacation, and 12 lbs total since beginning this blog.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, have my head examined, or… ?

For some reason I was not elated. I got scared. It felt like too much. Suddenly I felt weak and lightheaded. I went back to the room and reported to my husband. He was delighted for me. Then I got pissed off (internally). I felt like, MAN, no weight loss is too great, and no diet is too severe for this guy. I think he’s a closet anorexic. But I spent the rest of the evening feeling confused, and had a little bit more at dinner, including a couple of bites of fried calamari.

This morning we went to this amazing breakfast place that specializes in these pancakes smothered in this very intense macadamia nut sauce. It is truly an ecstatic experience. We ordered a short stack. My mom and my younger daughter tried them but nobody else (INCLUDING ME) had any. I had a brief moment of sadness and I had to remind myself about 20 times during that hour that I was NOT going to partake. I had a really good omelette and it was satisfying enough.

Later today we were at the mall and it has this weird scale where you put in your quarter to get your “real true weight!” and a fortune. I WAS SO STUPID TO FALL FOR THIS but I did. I stepped up, and put in a quarter. And guess what it showed?! My all-time high weight!  Or, 13 lbs MORE than the fitness-room scale from yesterday.

I immediately started tripping out. I started doubting that I’d really read what I thought I read yesterday. I was like, nooooo, I have gained weight, a LOT of weight. I started seeing reflections of myself in store windows, and I looked freaking enormous. I really started believing that I had gained weight.

And so, you ask, what difference does it make? How is it that my psyche is so ruled by this stupid number? Because… because… if I really DO weigh what that mall scale says, (my “real true weight!”) after all of this hard work and changing my eating habits, then it makes me feel hopeless. Like none of it was worth it. And this is the point where a huge percentage of dieters throw in the towel and say, FORGET THIS SHIT.

I have to bring back the hypodermic needle/amputee/blindness images, because I have to be motivated by health issues, not be the damn scale or whatever the hell else. That’s probably not the healthiest thing either.

Soon, I want to review this very good book I’ve been reading recently. Maybe tomorrow. Meanwhile, readers, come back. Stay with me. I need your company!

OH and PS on the Biggest Loser: I don’t have a lot to say because due to being in a different time zone, I ended up missing the first hour of the show. I got emotional about the orange team going home. I wish they could have split teams. That David guy is SO into his “I don’t care-ness” and there is no way he is going to succeed. He just isn’t into it. He isn’t ready. It’s too scary for him. Believe me, I have been there, a hundred times.  Many people are disgusted with him and I guess I agree but it’s also sad because it’s where this total disgust/abhorrence of fat people comes from. I resist that, even though I often feel it myself. People in that situation are beating up on themselves enough, are lost and afraid enough without having the whole world pile on as well. So. Mixed feelings on this one. YAY for all the motivated people who are kicking ass, but so many of us have been in that other place.

7

All The Weights Of My Life

We are on vacation now, which means I can’t be stepping on a scale every day. This is admittedly making me a little nervous. I’m of mixed feelings re the scale. Some people say you should never weigh yourself but just judge things on how you feel, your clothes fit, etc. Some people say you should not weigh yourself more than once a week because weights fluctuate so much daily, and you can go crazy from the miniscule ups and downs. And then others say you should weigh yourself daily so that you can adjust your behavior based on the feedback you get on the scale, but not more than once a day.

I’ve found that when I go long periods without weighing myself, it’s because I am afraid of the scale. I know it’s going to give me bad news so I avoid it. And if that goes on for too long, the news just gets worse and worse. So for me, I think it’s important to do that reality check.

Right now, I think (if I am the same as when I left home on Saturday), I am at what I call “normal overweight.” Meaning I’m still about 20 lbs overweight according to my BMI, but it’s also the weight that my body has defaulted to over the past 5-10 years.

I get alarmed when I’m at “high overweight.” This is when I begin creeping towards, or sometimes even surpassing, my All Time High. Which is what I weighed the day before I gave birth to my daughter.  I’ve been in touching distance of that weight, and even passed it, a few times this year and last. NOT a good feeling, especially when I look at pics of myself at nine months pregnant.

It’s pretty sick? that I can remember exactly how much I have weighed at various points in my life. I remember how distraught I was in middle school when I passed 100 lbs and many of my friends were still in the 80s and 90s.  When I was in high school and running on the track team, I was probably at my all time low for this height. I weighed more in my latter years of high school and then in college.  Then it started creeping up. When I was 27 I went on a trip to southeast Asia and lost 26 lbs after two months of trekking 8 hours a day and not eating very much.  I know exactly what I weighed the day I got married.

Getting pregnant and having kids put me in a permanently higher bracket. First, I got pregnant and we lost that baby after six months. I’m a person who eats when in grief, not the kind who loses weight when in grief. Then I got pregnant again, had that baby, and three years later did it again. I did have gestational diabetes with the 2nd pregnancy and did a LOT of exercise and food monitoring during those months. After I had the baby I was at one of my all time lows again.

So here I am at normal overweight again. All I want is to get into that normal BMI range. The highest BMI # is fine with me. It feels like a long way off.

I’m trying to just focus on avoiding the simple carbs, exercising every day and not getting overfull this week. It will be interesting to see what the scale says when I get home.

1

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