I'm conscious of where I'm at. If I weren't, I think I'd be back where I started.
But I'm about 10 pounds back up from where I figure my "good weight" is (260).
I'm 20 pounds up from where I was, though.
It's hard to accept that my focus has gone in other places, and my health takes a back seat. It's hard for me to wrap my brain around it. I don't know how long it takes to adjust to a new job? For me? Probably forever.
I'm a complicated person. I realize this. I feel like I have personal stuff to get in order, but life keeps happening, so personal stuff doesn't get in order.
But maybe it never does.
So, my new job - I have a love/hate relationship with it. Fancy that!!! Me?! Yes.
I love the work, the feeling of helping people, being helpful, and being in my element. But I hate that it consumes my life, and that my world, 80% of it, all revolves around WORK.
From 5am, to 5pm it's work. I'm either there, or planning to be there.
Get up, get ready, go, work, come home, unpack, pack for the next day, lay out clothes, try to come down from the day.
REPEAT.
It's taken its toll on me, and I'm miserable.
It's a weird misery.
I feel useful and valuable (at work), but I'm worthless in the areas that are important to me (my home life).
The most important - to me - is the home life.
I can be replaced at work. I can't be replaced at home.
I only have a few years until my kids are all out of the house. Though they need me less than they used to, they don't need me tired, ornery, and useless.
I feel caught. I've got a fantastic job (I really do - I landed a job in my niche with a great company), which is why I didn't turn it down. But it was more than I wanted - which is why I'm regretting it.
I pray that it's not all for naught, and that God will send something my way. I really do. I don't care about how hokey that sounds. I'm hanging on by a thread daily. I feel regret, embarrassment, fear, when I think of moving on from this position. But I also feel trapped by where I am.
I don't want this to be me. I want to continue taking care of myself and the people around me. I want to figure things out. I'm 40. I'm on the top of the hill riding down and I don't think I'll have myself or the world figured out in the next 20 years, but I dn't want to look back and wonder where they all went, either.
(Each
represents 1 pound gone)
338|
| 286
53 gone, 87 more to go to 198
Showing posts with label super-dee-duper thought depth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label super-dee-duper thought depth. Show all posts
Hot Mess Feeling Very Alone
I'm pretty sure it's hormonal, but there's just no way to say. I've not been doing well lately. Not with anything. Mainly it stems from my emotions. I just flat out haven't been feeling well. Overwhelmed emotionally and life-wise.
Too much.
There's always too much.
I've been going through a battery of medical tests - OK not a "battery" but the basics, really. I went to the Endo, and my thyroid tests were off, as well as my prolactin. The second result showed my prolactin was fine, but my thyroid was still a bit abnormal. I'm to retest again in 2 months.
That's all fine and dandy, but it makes me wonder a bit if the results were high (prolactin) because I was pre-menstrual. And if that happens every month, couldn't that be part of my PMS? I asked this and she replied that it was from direct nipple stimulation. I told her I hadn't done that, and she replied that it was was it was from. I asserted that I had not done that, and she threw her hands up.
A five minute google search will tell you:
Hmm. I understand medicine is always changing, and it's hard to keep on top of it - but it pisses me off when doctors - especially a SPECIALIST - rakes in gobs of money to sit on their hands and give flippant answers to their patients.
I go in waves of feeling better, doing well, and then I feel like I hit rock bottom again and I want to go crawl into a ball at my doctor's feet. But nothing seems to help this (depression/anxiety). I go on a pill and it helps for a while, and then it doesn't - or I gain weight, which is almost as bad as being depressed.
The PMS stuff is really starting to kill me. I feel awful, murderous, and so completely SAD. If it lands at a time where I'm paying bills, or have conflict in my family it feels so oppressive I can't even explain it. I play The Listener to all my friends, and don't really have a single one that I can call and have listen to me. Isn't that sad? My husband listens, to an extent - but then his answer is, "The doctor said your tests are fine - what do you want, something to be wrong?"
He doesn't get it. He's not ever been depressed or had anxiety and I'm not all trying to act like woe is me and my life-is-the-hardest-of-them-all-contest, but I just wish someone understood, or listened, or supported. I feel very alone.
He tries.
I try.
I just want to make it through this month and hold it together. That sounds awful, but I do think the kids being back in school will help.
I really hate this. I do. I wish I could change it. I must be a miserable mom, wife, and blogger who is so whiny and unhappy at times.
I wish I could change. I feel like a waste of space sometimes. I know I'm not - but that's what my head tells me in times like these. It is humbling. If I were a completely happy person I would probably be even more sickening to be around.
Right now on the tip of my head is a family member who struggles with mental health AODA issues, and some strife between us. I'm longing for a relationship that isn't there, and it really truly kills me at times. It's been a very long, difficult road with this person, and it's left a black charred scar right on my heart.
As crappy as I feel, I want to leave with a bit of joy rather than sadness. I'll list 5 good things:
1. Pumpkin pudding.
2. Cooler weather.
3. My smartphone. It's fun.
4. Backyard fires.
5. A quiet house (not all the time, just sometimes).
Too much.
There's always too much.
I've been going through a battery of medical tests - OK not a "battery" but the basics, really. I went to the Endo, and my thyroid tests were off, as well as my prolactin. The second result showed my prolactin was fine, but my thyroid was still a bit abnormal. I'm to retest again in 2 months.
That's all fine and dandy, but it makes me wonder a bit if the results were high (prolactin) because I was pre-menstrual. And if that happens every month, couldn't that be part of my PMS? I asked this and she replied that it was from direct nipple stimulation. I told her I hadn't done that, and she replied that it was was it was from. I asserted that I had not done that, and she threw her hands up.
A five minute google search will tell you:
Some woman with PMS have elevated prolactin levels, [6]while others appear to be over sensitive to normal levels. (site)
I go in waves of feeling better, doing well, and then I feel like I hit rock bottom again and I want to go crawl into a ball at my doctor's feet. But nothing seems to help this (depression/anxiety). I go on a pill and it helps for a while, and then it doesn't - or I gain weight, which is almost as bad as being depressed.
The PMS stuff is really starting to kill me. I feel awful, murderous, and so completely SAD. If it lands at a time where I'm paying bills, or have conflict in my family it feels so oppressive I can't even explain it. I play The Listener to all my friends, and don't really have a single one that I can call and have listen to me. Isn't that sad? My husband listens, to an extent - but then his answer is, "The doctor said your tests are fine - what do you want, something to be wrong?"
He doesn't get it. He's not ever been depressed or had anxiety and I'm not all trying to act like woe is me and my life-is-the-hardest-of-them-all-contest, but I just wish someone understood, or listened, or supported. I feel very alone.
He tries.
I try.
I just want to make it through this month and hold it together. That sounds awful, but I do think the kids being back in school will help.
I really hate this. I do. I wish I could change it. I must be a miserable mom, wife, and blogger who is so whiny and unhappy at times.
I wish I could change. I feel like a waste of space sometimes. I know I'm not - but that's what my head tells me in times like these. It is humbling. If I were a completely happy person I would probably be even more sickening to be around.
Right now on the tip of my head is a family member who struggles with mental health AODA issues, and some strife between us. I'm longing for a relationship that isn't there, and it really truly kills me at times. It's been a very long, difficult road with this person, and it's left a black charred scar right on my heart.
As crappy as I feel, I want to leave with a bit of joy rather than sadness. I'll list 5 good things:
1. Pumpkin pudding.
2. Cooler weather.
3. My smartphone. It's fun.
4. Backyard fires.
5. A quiet house (not all the time, just sometimes).
Maintaining... Better Than Gaining
My last quick entry was regarding my (not-on-purpose) maintenance.
The next day (after weighing 251), I weighed 253.
Jease. I can't win with the scale.
I'm also trying not to get too caught up in it, but I also have to keep an eye on it. As I said in my comments, I've lost the same 30 pounds three times now over the past how many years. If I could have just maintained those thirty pounds, I would have lost 90, and would be at 180 right now.
If I maintain this loss for a year, and then lose another 30, I'll be at 220. If I can maintain this loss and lose another 30 after that... 190.
I must remember this. I don't need to go back! Even though my body would just love that.
Maybe "stalling out" at a weight is good anyway. Resetting your body at a new normal for a substantial amount of time. Who knows? This whole weight loss thing boggles my mind, but I do know that my new normal was 290 for a while. I never went back up to 238 again, but I would go back to 290. If I never go back to 290, I'll be happy as heck.
Not saying I don't want to lose. I do, I do, I do. SO bad. But even more than losing, I do not want to gain.
--------------------------
I' not sure if I'll have any cocktails this weekend or not. I know I talked about going cocktail-less through the weekend. We'll see. I've had a good week, though, and I feel good about it. Not a whole lot going on this weekend anyway. We're still trying to figure out what we want to do.
The next day (after weighing 251), I weighed 253.
Jease. I can't win with the scale.
I'm also trying not to get too caught up in it, but I also have to keep an eye on it. As I said in my comments, I've lost the same 30 pounds three times now over the past how many years. If I could have just maintained those thirty pounds, I would have lost 90, and would be at 180 right now.
If I maintain this loss for a year, and then lose another 30, I'll be at 220. If I can maintain this loss and lose another 30 after that... 190.
I must remember this. I don't need to go back! Even though my body would just love that.
Maybe "stalling out" at a weight is good anyway. Resetting your body at a new normal for a substantial amount of time. Who knows? This whole weight loss thing boggles my mind, but I do know that my new normal was 290 for a while. I never went back up to 238 again, but I would go back to 290. If I never go back to 290, I'll be happy as heck.
Not saying I don't want to lose. I do, I do, I do. SO bad. But even more than losing, I do not want to gain.
--------------------------
I' not sure if I'll have any cocktails this weekend or not. I know I talked about going cocktail-less through the weekend. We'll see. I've had a good week, though, and I feel good about it. Not a whole lot going on this weekend anyway. We're still trying to figure out what we want to do.
It's All A Psychological Game
I was contemplating taking down my last post. There's a guilt feeling in the pit of my stomach for being so negative and probably for being honest, too.
But these are the things that are troubling me, and the things I need to deal with head on if I'm going to keep swimming by.
There's always going to be something. Primarily I need to get over the fact that I CAN'T CONTROL THE WORLD.
I can't control my kids.
I can't control my friends.
I can't control the outcome of sticky situations.
I can't control the my husband's reactions.
I can't control the weather.
There's a million and one things in the world that I can't control, and only one that I can.
MYSELF.
Big newsflash, eh? I know. I know. Stating the obvious. But I really need to work on this if I'm going to set things straight. I think part of the reason I get so disappointed in life is that I live in fear of too many things. That fear shouldn't control me.
I fear for my kid's future.
I fear for my friends.
I fear situations that are sad, scary.
I fear a life of a mediocre marriage.
I let myself believe I have some sort of control over things (if I do this, that will happen - if I say this maybe I'll get the result I want). Some of it is control-based, and some of it is slightly OCD based. Neither one is healthy or good. I realize part of it is just who I am, but I don't have to have it everything I am - and those are the times when I'm least happy.
I read a lot of devotionals today, and tried to get inside myself a bit. Tried to loosen the reigns on things. Disappointments. Being so disappointed in everyone else, when it is only myself who I can change, and who is probably disappointing me the most.
I don't want to be remembered as an miserable, angry mom/neighbor/friend. That's not uplifting to anyone else and certainly doesn't help me live with myself. That anger and frustration I feel just spills over in me trying to fix everyone else, I guess. Me, trying to have everyone else make up for deficits that I feel.
For the most part.
I don't want to poo-poo my marriage and some of the things going on with that. It isn't all roses for everyone, and there are definite struggles. It is a struggle for me. It has been off and on for a long time. To not admit that would be stupid. I think those feelings boil over into other areas of my life, too. It sucks, but it is there and it will be there if I lose weight or stay the same.
All of it will.
Except I'll be fat and unhappy, and staring at my closet again crying instead of just grabbing pants and pulling them on.
Today is better than where I was. I need to stay on track and remember that 6 months from now could be even more glorious if I trust and continue and not give up.
It's stay the same or keep moving, right?
But these are the things that are troubling me, and the things I need to deal with head on if I'm going to keep swimming by.
There's always going to be something. Primarily I need to get over the fact that I CAN'T CONTROL THE WORLD.
I can't control my kids.
I can't control my friends.
I can't control the outcome of sticky situations.
I can't control the my husband's reactions.
I can't control the weather.
There's a million and one things in the world that I can't control, and only one that I can.
MYSELF.
Big newsflash, eh? I know. I know. Stating the obvious. But I really need to work on this if I'm going to set things straight. I think part of the reason I get so disappointed in life is that I live in fear of too many things. That fear shouldn't control me.
I fear for my kid's future.
I fear for my friends.
I fear situations that are sad, scary.
I fear a life of a mediocre marriage.
I let myself believe I have some sort of control over things (if I do this, that will happen - if I say this maybe I'll get the result I want). Some of it is control-based, and some of it is slightly OCD based. Neither one is healthy or good. I realize part of it is just who I am, but I don't have to have it everything I am - and those are the times when I'm least happy.
I read a lot of devotionals today, and tried to get inside myself a bit. Tried to loosen the reigns on things. Disappointments. Being so disappointed in everyone else, when it is only myself who I can change, and who is probably disappointing me the most.
I don't want to be remembered as an miserable, angry mom/neighbor/friend. That's not uplifting to anyone else and certainly doesn't help me live with myself. That anger and frustration I feel just spills over in me trying to fix everyone else, I guess. Me, trying to have everyone else make up for deficits that I feel.
For the most part.
I don't want to poo-poo my marriage and some of the things going on with that. It isn't all roses for everyone, and there are definite struggles. It is a struggle for me. It has been off and on for a long time. To not admit that would be stupid. I think those feelings boil over into other areas of my life, too. It sucks, but it is there and it will be there if I lose weight or stay the same.
All of it will.
Except I'll be fat and unhappy, and staring at my closet again crying instead of just grabbing pants and pulling them on.
Today is better than where I was. I need to stay on track and remember that 6 months from now could be even more glorious if I trust and continue and not give up.
It's stay the same or keep moving, right?
I Haven't Arrived Yet
I haven't arrived yet.
I realized that today. The word "journey" is way over-used, but I'm going to use it. I haven't arrived on my journey. I don't know if you ever do, really, with substantial weight loss. It's an ongoing thing. Maybe if you've maintained for years, and realize that your choices have simply become who you are and a way of life?
I was posting a message on a weight loss site, it was asking about your "wow" moment. I read through the responses, and then typed out this:
I don't think I've had one yet. Not really. I have little moments of joy, but I think my wow moments are yet to come.
I'm SO excited to hit my 100 pounds lost mark.I'm SO excited to get out of the clothes I'm wearing and into a new size.I'm SO excited to have my kids be proud of me, to see what I can accomplish.
I'm on my way, but I don't think I've arrived yet.
I have a destination, but it doesn't really have a number. It has some numbers on the way, but not really one to end with.
I feel like I need to be below 230 for sure. I just don't know how far below. I've always felt rather decently when I hovered around 210 - 220 before. Remember - everyone is different. Some people feel like a whale at that weight. I didn't. Some people feel like a whale at 250, and I feel like I have a new lease on life. Who knows what another 30 - 40 pounds would feel like to me?
There's surprises along the way of any road traveled - any journey to a destination. You stop and see the sights, but you know that you're not there yet. You're still on the road. Most people have a specific end, a destination. Mine is more vague, not a specific number. I know how far I want to go - just not where I want to be after I've gone that far. I know what state I want to be in, but not which city - liken it to that.
I want to feel good in my own skin.
I want to be able to do whatever I want physically (sports, etc.) and feel healthy.
I want clothes to fit nicely.
I want people to be able to visibly see I've lost weight.
I want to feel like I've lost weight (already accomplished).
I want to be healthy (somewhat accomplished).
I want to be able to nourish my body without extremely starving/depriving myself.
I know that my idea of a comfortable weight isn't going to be the standard medical field's idea. I think my ideal weight is 135 or something, and I know that it would kill me to try to maintain that sort of weight. Unless I somehow magically became a super-active runner who enjoyed it so much that I was constantly doing it, allowing me a much larger caloric allotment - otherwise, it ain't happenin'. I think my body would really fight me on that. I've never been skinny.
My lowest weight I can remember is 140-something when I was a teenager. My mom thought I was anorexic. I was just smoking cigarettes and barely eating, and was a teenager (even though my metabolism was sluggy then). It didn't last long. I settled in around 180ish, I think for quite some time, then found a new home in the 200s.
180? 200? 220?
Who knows. I hope I do when I get there.
----------
On another note, all of my summer clothes that I was bursting out of last year - they all fit, and some of them are LOOSE!
----------
On another note, all of my summer clothes that I was bursting out of last year - they all fit, and some of them are LOOSE!
Men Stare At You More When You Lose Weight
If my weight keeps careening upwards, next week you're going to see me running for the hills.
I've done well all week. There's no reason why I should be hitting close to 258 right now.
I'm hoping that next week I will weigh in and can look back to this entry and say, I always freak out needlessly. I really, really do.
I'm afraid I'm getting stuck again. My body likes to hang out for a while before it drops anything. This past week it has been hanging. I mean, come on.
I have been tired this past week, though, and not getting enough sleep, which definitely can be contributing. Other than that I feel good. My clothes feel good. I'm hanging in there. Today I stopped at Costco and loaded up on chicken patties, bacon, cheese, eggs, kale, rotisserie chicken... things like that. Nothing sexy, but my fridge is way fuller than it was this morning.
As I walked out, I caught the eye of a nice man, smiled and kept walking.
Men are looking at me more. I didn't want to mention that, but there it is. 40 pounds ago, it was rare-er. Now, it is much more common. I sounds incredibly vain to even be mentioning this, but I mention it because I'm not sure what to think of it.
When I was younger, and thinner, I got a lot of looks from the men. There are times when I think that I actually packed on fat to keep that away. Keep to myself. I don't have a lot of "fat baggage" or issues that I think keep me fat, but if I had to readily pick one, it might be that.
I'm not young, I'm not a supermodel, I'm still a pretty fat beast. Sometimes when you see a fatty that can really "pull it off" at her weight, it makes you look a little longer. Maybe that's it. I don't know. But I don't know how I feel about it. At times I have this weird feeling like I want to climb back into my fat suit and cozy up.
I have read people say that, as they lost weight, they noticed more people looking them in the eye. I don't feel like I command any more attention now than I did before. Except for this. It's not new, it's an old familiar, except the men aren't 20 anymore. It's nice for people to think you're pretty, but I also apparently have some sort of issue about it because it's nice, but it bothers and scares me a bit.
Maybe I'm accustomed to being a little more incognito?
I've done well all week. There's no reason why I should be hitting close to 258 right now.
I'm hoping that next week I will weigh in and can look back to this entry and say, I always freak out needlessly. I really, really do.
I'm afraid I'm getting stuck again. My body likes to hang out for a while before it drops anything. This past week it has been hanging. I mean, come on.
I have been tired this past week, though, and not getting enough sleep, which definitely can be contributing. Other than that I feel good. My clothes feel good. I'm hanging in there. Today I stopped at Costco and loaded up on chicken patties, bacon, cheese, eggs, kale, rotisserie chicken... things like that. Nothing sexy, but my fridge is way fuller than it was this morning.
As I walked out, I caught the eye of a nice man, smiled and kept walking.
Men are looking at me more. I didn't want to mention that, but there it is. 40 pounds ago, it was rare-er. Now, it is much more common. I sounds incredibly vain to even be mentioning this, but I mention it because I'm not sure what to think of it.
When I was younger, and thinner, I got a lot of looks from the men. There are times when I think that I actually packed on fat to keep that away. Keep to myself. I don't have a lot of "fat baggage" or issues that I think keep me fat, but if I had to readily pick one, it might be that.
I'm not young, I'm not a supermodel, I'm still a pretty fat beast. Sometimes when you see a fatty that can really "pull it off" at her weight, it makes you look a little longer. Maybe that's it. I don't know. But I don't know how I feel about it. At times I have this weird feeling like I want to climb back into my fat suit and cozy up.
I have read people say that, as they lost weight, they noticed more people looking them in the eye. I don't feel like I command any more attention now than I did before. Except for this. It's not new, it's an old familiar, except the men aren't 20 anymore. It's nice for people to think you're pretty, but I also apparently have some sort of issue about it because it's nice, but it bothers and scares me a bit.
Maybe I'm accustomed to being a little more incognito?
Scales And Weights
I have two scales that are very dear to me. My kitchen scale, and my bathroom scale.
BATHROOM SCALE
I know that some people forbid scales in their homes, and some weigh themselves daily.
I'm the second one.
I don't know why I do it, but ever since I got that new scale, I hop on it nearly every day. Sometimes every other day.
Today it tells me I've gained a pound. I know I ate a lot of salt yesterday. I also know I stayed reasonable with my calories, went for a walk, and shouldn't worry. I'm not too worried. Right now the scale and daily weighing seems to be helpful to me. For now.
It's scary, too. I think for the rest of my life I will always have a fear of putting my pudgy feet on a scale. They mean too much. Those numbers, they mean a lot. Kind of like important dates, the numbers signify times in my struggle.
the past decae...
338 - my highest
305 - getting stuck there, wondering if I'd ever leave the 300s again
295 - getting down there and being joyous, but wanting more... losing and being back there three times
280s and 270s - yoyo times, back and forth - frustration
260s - feeling great, feeling a difference in my body
250s - new territory for me in this decade
old territory from years ago/my late teens and early 20s...
240s - remembering this weight, lying about it to my friend
230s - post-baby, walking around here for a long time, but telling everyone I was 202
220s - vague recollections of being here, felt great at this weight
210s - huh?
180s - feeling fat, lying about it
170s - felt fat here
160s - huh?
150 - my mother telling me I looked like I was melting away
140 - hearing a famous person weighed the same, and feeling great about that, my legs barely rubbed together
For most of my life, I've been stuck somewhere in the 200s. I think even back in middle school possibly I was over 200 pounds. For a brief time I dipped into the onederland area, and it was great. I was still fat by high-school standards, but thick and beautiful by many a boy's standards. It felt great to get out of high school and have people look at me differently.
I don't know where I will settle this time around. I don't want it to be on this side of 250, though. It's a tough battle. It's a lot of work, mentally and physically. Unless there's a payoff, it's hard to keep going.
BATHROOM SCALE
I know that some people forbid scales in their homes, and some weigh themselves daily.
I'm the second one.
I don't know why I do it, but ever since I got that new scale, I hop on it nearly every day. Sometimes every other day.
Today it tells me I've gained a pound. I know I ate a lot of salt yesterday. I also know I stayed reasonable with my calories, went for a walk, and shouldn't worry. I'm not too worried. Right now the scale and daily weighing seems to be helpful to me. For now.
It's scary, too. I think for the rest of my life I will always have a fear of putting my pudgy feet on a scale. They mean too much. Those numbers, they mean a lot. Kind of like important dates, the numbers signify times in my struggle.
the past decae...
338 - my highest
305 - getting stuck there, wondering if I'd ever leave the 300s again
295 - getting down there and being joyous, but wanting more... losing and being back there three times
280s and 270s - yoyo times, back and forth - frustration
260s - feeling great, feeling a difference in my body
250s - new territory for me in this decade
old territory from years ago/my late teens and early 20s...
240s - remembering this weight, lying about it to my friend
230s - post-baby, walking around here for a long time, but telling everyone I was 202
220s - vague recollections of being here, felt great at this weight
210s - huh?
180s - feeling fat, lying about it
170s - felt fat here
160s - huh?
150 - my mother telling me I looked like I was melting away
140 - hearing a famous person weighed the same, and feeling great about that, my legs barely rubbed together
For most of my life, I've been stuck somewhere in the 200s. I think even back in middle school possibly I was over 200 pounds. For a brief time I dipped into the onederland area, and it was great. I was still fat by high-school standards, but thick and beautiful by many a boy's standards. It felt great to get out of high school and have people look at me differently.
I don't know where I will settle this time around. I don't want it to be on this side of 250, though. It's a tough battle. It's a lot of work, mentally and physically. Unless there's a payoff, it's hard to keep going.
Body Tales
Weight loss is objective.
I surf around reading blogs. It's good to feed myself motivation at least once a week.
I like to look at pictures (something I have little of), and see stats of the losses. I like to read how it was done, to see someone transform. It really is impressive. Inspiring.
I like to see how people feel different. The scale says one thing, but the body tells more intimate tales of the process of changing your body.
It probably goes without saying, but I'm looking for people who have lost or are losing a good chunk. Like 100 pounds. People who have been in body debt, and are now debt free - that inspires me because it hits closer to who I am - or who I want to be.
Usually people who have been over 250ish.
Anyway. So one thing I found fascinating is how other people felt in their 250s. Like, for those who started there. I started in my 330s, so that's another ball league. I'm feeling much better in my 250s (in comparison to my 290s). Most of it is just getting around the fat, being able to sit more comfortably, get up more comfortably, stretch, etc.
But the way some people felt at my same weight (at their starting weight) amazes me. The misery. I'm not that miserable. 'Leads me to think of the experiences and differences of our bodies. We all feel differently in our skin.
Regardless of how great I feel (because I've been even heavier than this) right now, someone else might feel miserable at 250; it might have been their beginning. It's a little bit of a buzz kill, really. And it's also a little bit of a face slap, telling me not to become to complacent.
I can't say I ever felt incredibly miserable physically at 300. I felt a bit disabled, I guess. But I wasn't suffering major health consequences, and was able to take care of everything I needed to. I feel similar now. BUT I feel more free.
I surf around reading blogs. It's good to feed myself motivation at least once a week.
I like to look at pictures (something I have little of), and see stats of the losses. I like to read how it was done, to see someone transform. It really is impressive. Inspiring.
I like to see how people feel different. The scale says one thing, but the body tells more intimate tales of the process of changing your body.
It probably goes without saying, but I'm looking for people who have lost or are losing a good chunk. Like 100 pounds. People who have been in body debt, and are now debt free - that inspires me because it hits closer to who I am - or who I want to be.
Usually people who have been over 250ish.
Anyway. So one thing I found fascinating is how other people felt in their 250s. Like, for those who started there. I started in my 330s, so that's another ball league. I'm feeling much better in my 250s (in comparison to my 290s). Most of it is just getting around the fat, being able to sit more comfortably, get up more comfortably, stretch, etc.
But the way some people felt at my same weight (at their starting weight) amazes me. The misery. I'm not that miserable. 'Leads me to think of the experiences and differences of our bodies. We all feel differently in our skin.
Regardless of how great I feel (because I've been even heavier than this) right now, someone else might feel miserable at 250; it might have been their beginning. It's a little bit of a buzz kill, really. And it's also a little bit of a face slap, telling me not to become to complacent.
I can't say I ever felt incredibly miserable physically at 300. I felt a bit disabled, I guess. But I wasn't suffering major health consequences, and was able to take care of everything I needed to. I feel similar now. BUT I feel more free.
I'm Not The Fattest One In The Room
The other weekend we went to a sporting event for the kids. It was nice, we had a good time. As I walked around the gym, I noticed two ladies that were rather large. I guessed them to be about 300 or more pounds.
They are me. I remember that. It wasn't exactly like looking in the mirror, but looking into a time capsule from when I was that large. I'm still large, and my head doesn't let me feel like I'm that far from that size. But I had to remind myself that that wasn't me anymore.
That was me.
I'm still myself.
I'm just not that large anymore.
But I've got the same head.
I really shouldn't think that much when looking at someone else, but I did. I deducted that I was not the largest woman in the room anymore.
Even though I'm over 250 pounds, I'm wasn't the largest woman there.
I don't think these things all the time, and not as much as I used to. I'm still, often enough, the largest woman in a group of women. But not like I used to be. I'm creeping closer and closer to having lost 100 pounds, even though it doesn't seem possible that I've done that. It really does not.
Even when I remind myself that I've lost 70 pounds, it doesn't seem possible, or real. I don't identify much with that 338 pound woman I used to be. She's been gone for a while. At some point, though, I hope to be 100 pounds down from that 295 pound woman. I know her well.
_____________________________________
My husband and I are about the same weight. In fact, he might be - for the first time in a long, long time - more than me. I really want to make a nice gap between our weights. That's a mini personal goal for me. My son asked the other day, "Mom, you don't weigh as much as dad, do you?" And for the first time I could tell him "no" and not be lying.
I think that because I'm still quite a hefty girl, I don't really "get" where I am right now, or feel like I've made a major accomplishment quite yet. Don't get me wrong - I'm happy, I'm feeling very blessed to be seeing the numbers I'm seeing on the scale. But I just am not there yet.
Seeing the scale in the 250s is amazing. I can't wait to see the 240s. I think what will be HUGE for me is a 220-anything. That will be HUGE. I think the 230s will be huge. Shoot, the 240s will be unbelievable.
I can't believe where I am now, and that it might be possible to drop lower. I really can't.
They are me. I remember that. It wasn't exactly like looking in the mirror, but looking into a time capsule from when I was that large. I'm still large, and my head doesn't let me feel like I'm that far from that size. But I had to remind myself that that wasn't me anymore.
That was me.
I'm still myself.
I'm just not that large anymore.
But I've got the same head.
I really shouldn't think that much when looking at someone else, but I did. I deducted that I was not the largest woman in the room anymore.
Even though I'm over 250 pounds, I'm wasn't the largest woman there.
I don't think these things all the time, and not as much as I used to. I'm still, often enough, the largest woman in a group of women. But not like I used to be. I'm creeping closer and closer to having lost 100 pounds, even though it doesn't seem possible that I've done that. It really does not.
Even when I remind myself that I've lost 70 pounds, it doesn't seem possible, or real. I don't identify much with that 338 pound woman I used to be. She's been gone for a while. At some point, though, I hope to be 100 pounds down from that 295 pound woman. I know her well.
_____________________________________
My husband and I are about the same weight. In fact, he might be - for the first time in a long, long time - more than me. I really want to make a nice gap between our weights. That's a mini personal goal for me. My son asked the other day, "Mom, you don't weigh as much as dad, do you?" And for the first time I could tell him "no" and not be lying.
I think that because I'm still quite a hefty girl, I don't really "get" where I am right now, or feel like I've made a major accomplishment quite yet. Don't get me wrong - I'm happy, I'm feeling very blessed to be seeing the numbers I'm seeing on the scale. But I just am not there yet.
Seeing the scale in the 250s is amazing. I can't wait to see the 240s. I think what will be HUGE for me is a 220-anything. That will be HUGE. I think the 230s will be huge. Shoot, the 240s will be unbelievable.
I can't believe where I am now, and that it might be possible to drop lower. I really can't.
I Do Not Want To Fail
It's weird. I know I have been frustrated with my weight loss, and how slow it has been. Don't get me wrong - I've been pleased. I'm going down, I'm feeling and seeing the difference. But, like most people, I'm a little impatient. I'd like that 10 pounds per month loss that I feel like I should have, given the work and sacrifices I'm putting in.
When I count calories all week and bust butt on the treadmill, only to get on the scale and have it move a measly pound, it is disappointing. On the same token, I'm happy to have lost a pound and not stalled out. So I'm stuck between being thrilled and irritated. Ha!
Today, though, as I walked into work, aware of being lighter than I've been in a while (once again), I was pleased. I felt good. Satisfied with where I am. Happy to not be where I was. The 260's feel like the new normal to me. My new "start point" since I've already been here, lost it, only to lose it again. I rolled my stats over in my head.
February 2012: 292 pounds
February 2013: 267 pounds
Difference: 25 pounds
As much as I'd love to lose a heckton of weight before I turn 40 this year in the fall, I'd also like to keep this off FOR GOOD.
I reminded myself that if I kept on this trend, even losing slowly, I'd be down 25 pounds by next year, which would put me at 242 pounds. The next year, 217, the next - 195.
I must remember that is BETTER THAN WHERE I'VE BEEN. I have to keep that in my head.
I've given myself this speil before and have failed at it, landing right back where I was. Each time I was determined not to get back there. Each time. Does this one feel different?
Yes.
It does. I'm scared to say it because I'm afraid of being wrong. I'm afraid of failing. I don't want to say too much to the people in my life out of fear.
But the other day my son came over, put his arms around me and gave me a big hug. A comfortable hug. He tried to jerk me off the ground (he's not big enough for that). We didn't say much, but I had a thought that he had noticed my weight loss, and wanted to get his arms around me.
I do, too. I wanted the same thing.
My other son asked if I went to the gym and if that was going to be normal for me now.
I'm sad for the time that has gone by where I've been big, and unable to focus on myself. I'm really trying to delegate some of my responsibilities so that I'm not logged down so much, and I can focus some on myself. I'm trying to hand over some things to my husband. To let some things go.
My youngest will be in high school next year and I'm determined to be below this notch by then. I'm determined to start living better.
I do not want to fail.
When I count calories all week and bust butt on the treadmill, only to get on the scale and have it move a measly pound, it is disappointing. On the same token, I'm happy to have lost a pound and not stalled out. So I'm stuck between being thrilled and irritated. Ha!
Today, though, as I walked into work, aware of being lighter than I've been in a while (once again), I was pleased. I felt good. Satisfied with where I am. Happy to not be where I was. The 260's feel like the new normal to me. My new "start point" since I've already been here, lost it, only to lose it again. I rolled my stats over in my head.
February 2012: 292 pounds
February 2013: 267 pounds
Difference: 25 pounds
As much as I'd love to lose a heckton of weight before I turn 40 this year in the fall, I'd also like to keep this off FOR GOOD.
I reminded myself that if I kept on this trend, even losing slowly, I'd be down 25 pounds by next year, which would put me at 242 pounds. The next year, 217, the next - 195.
I must remember that is BETTER THAN WHERE I'VE BEEN. I have to keep that in my head.
I've given myself this speil before and have failed at it, landing right back where I was. Each time I was determined not to get back there. Each time. Does this one feel different?
Yes.
It does. I'm scared to say it because I'm afraid of being wrong. I'm afraid of failing. I don't want to say too much to the people in my life out of fear.
But the other day my son came over, put his arms around me and gave me a big hug. A comfortable hug. He tried to jerk me off the ground (he's not big enough for that). We didn't say much, but I had a thought that he had noticed my weight loss, and wanted to get his arms around me.
I do, too. I wanted the same thing.
My other son asked if I went to the gym and if that was going to be normal for me now.
I'm sad for the time that has gone by where I've been big, and unable to focus on myself. I'm really trying to delegate some of my responsibilities so that I'm not logged down so much, and I can focus some on myself. I'm trying to hand over some things to my husband. To let some things go.
My youngest will be in high school next year and I'm determined to be below this notch by then. I'm determined to start living better.
I do not want to fail.
11-Day Challenge Done
I'm done. I completed it. 11 days, tracking and staying within my calories. I'm glad it was 11 and not 14, because I'd honestly have to wave the white flag of surrender.
Doing this helped me realize where some of my pitfalls are.
Some of it is just simply time. I know I posted the other day about managing and prioritizing my health, and forcing myself to take the time. I never said it was easy!
It took time for me to plan my meals out, run them through the recipe calculator, make sure I had foods stocked. I almost wish I could quit my job and simply focus on me, me and ME! Work out, knit, cook, plan, clean, tidy up my life. Oh what an indulgence that would be.
Tonight I ended up eating a Lean Cuisine for dinner, even though I had one for lunch. I just couldn't take trying to put together another meal. Too fatigued. My husband is not feeling well, so it might be that I'm fighting something off. I also think that by about yesterday, my body started to go into a bit of a frantic calorie search. Kind of like when you do the low-carb thing, and your body can deal with it, detoxing and lowering your carbs - then all of a sudden it goes into shock mode and is like, OK for real now WHERE ARE MY CARBS?! My body was asking where all the calories were.
I could feel it.
It got my attention last night. It didn't get the best of me, but it made me sit up and notice. It scared me a bit, too. I was watching the 20/20 special on about people who had lost a significant amount of weight, and one thing they touched on was the body's --the fat cell's-- lifelong desire to retain it's former shape. That losing isn't the entire battle. Maintenance is even harder because, at some point, your body starts wondering when the experiment is over, and when things will return to normal again.
Scary. Makes sense, though, as I can't imagine how I could survive on 1200 calories a day. Right now I'm at 1700 and there are days that I feel they are more than plenty - but more often there are days where I feel like I am going through torture.
Being active helps, because you can eat more, as long as you're burning it off. I'm not saying I'm stopping. I'm just saying it is definitely a life-long issue.
Doing this helped me realize where some of my pitfalls are.
Some of it is just simply time. I know I posted the other day about managing and prioritizing my health, and forcing myself to take the time. I never said it was easy!
It took time for me to plan my meals out, run them through the recipe calculator, make sure I had foods stocked. I almost wish I could quit my job and simply focus on me, me and ME! Work out, knit, cook, plan, clean, tidy up my life. Oh what an indulgence that would be.
Tonight I ended up eating a Lean Cuisine for dinner, even though I had one for lunch. I just couldn't take trying to put together another meal. Too fatigued. My husband is not feeling well, so it might be that I'm fighting something off. I also think that by about yesterday, my body started to go into a bit of a frantic calorie search. Kind of like when you do the low-carb thing, and your body can deal with it, detoxing and lowering your carbs - then all of a sudden it goes into shock mode and is like, OK for real now WHERE ARE MY CARBS?! My body was asking where all the calories were.
I could feel it.
It got my attention last night. It didn't get the best of me, but it made me sit up and notice. It scared me a bit, too. I was watching the 20/20 special on about people who had lost a significant amount of weight, and one thing they touched on was the body's --the fat cell's-- lifelong desire to retain it's former shape. That losing isn't the entire battle. Maintenance is even harder because, at some point, your body starts wondering when the experiment is over, and when things will return to normal again.
Scary. Makes sense, though, as I can't imagine how I could survive on 1200 calories a day. Right now I'm at 1700 and there are days that I feel they are more than plenty - but more often there are days where I feel like I am going through torture.
Being active helps, because you can eat more, as long as you're burning it off. I'm not saying I'm stopping. I'm just saying it is definitely a life-long issue.
Why Am I Losing Weight
After I weighed in (269), I walked into the kitchen and the thought that popped into my head was:
Why exactly AM I losing weight?
Kind of weird, huh?
I mean, what a dumb question from someone who weighs more than a linebacker. One would think the better question is why wouldn't I want to lose weight?
I do want to lose weight. Primarily I do want to fit into clothes better, and then my second thought that pops into my head is to be be able to be more active. I'd like to run. I'd like to be able to play soccer or baseball, or another fun sport - things I could not do in the past.
#1 Fit better into clothes.
#2 Play fun sports.
Two decent reasons. I guess I could live without both of those, but not to the fullness that I feel I desire.
There's other reasons, but those two popped immediately into my head.
I can do #1 already now. Twenty-five pounds ago, I couldn't. My clothes felt tight and restrictive. I couldn't buy a 2x and fit right into it. I had to go to 3x. I'd like to ditch the X all together. At that point, I think I'd be satisfied.
#2 I can not do. I bowl, play volleyball. Maybe run in a race with my kids. But I can't join a team and have fun, or run a race. I realize I will be 40 this year, and it's not the best time to start playing a sport. Clearly. But it's easier than trying at 50... or 60. If I think on it too long I get very sad about it, about all the time in my life I could have been running, playing, enjoying that freedom - and I haven't been able to.
Right now I could probably work towards running a race, but my belly flaps too much. I'll just be honest. My fitness levels would allow me to start breaking into some of these things, but my belly won't. And that's not going to change. I really need to figure something out with that, because I don't want to start living if/when I can ever get rid of my flapping belly.
Confession: I think my relationships suffer because of the oppression I feel within myself. I could be wrong, and maybe I'm just an unhappy ogre, regardless of being a fatty. But, I wonder - and hope - that as my body changes, my emotions might, too. I don't know, though.
Why exactly AM I losing weight?
Kind of weird, huh?
I mean, what a dumb question from someone who weighs more than a linebacker. One would think the better question is why wouldn't I want to lose weight?
I do want to lose weight. Primarily I do want to fit into clothes better, and then my second thought that pops into my head is to be be able to be more active. I'd like to run. I'd like to be able to play soccer or baseball, or another fun sport - things I could not do in the past.
#1 Fit better into clothes.
#2 Play fun sports.
Two decent reasons. I guess I could live without both of those, but not to the fullness that I feel I desire.
There's other reasons, but those two popped immediately into my head.
I can do #1 already now. Twenty-five pounds ago, I couldn't. My clothes felt tight and restrictive. I couldn't buy a 2x and fit right into it. I had to go to 3x. I'd like to ditch the X all together. At that point, I think I'd be satisfied.
#2 I can not do. I bowl, play volleyball. Maybe run in a race with my kids. But I can't join a team and have fun, or run a race. I realize I will be 40 this year, and it's not the best time to start playing a sport. Clearly. But it's easier than trying at 50... or 60. If I think on it too long I get very sad about it, about all the time in my life I could have been running, playing, enjoying that freedom - and I haven't been able to.
Right now I could probably work towards running a race, but my belly flaps too much. I'll just be honest. My fitness levels would allow me to start breaking into some of these things, but my belly won't. And that's not going to change. I really need to figure something out with that, because I don't want to start living if/when I can ever get rid of my flapping belly.
Confession: I think my relationships suffer because of the oppression I feel within myself. I could be wrong, and maybe I'm just an unhappy ogre, regardless of being a fatty. But, I wonder - and hope - that as my body changes, my emotions might, too. I don't know, though.
Weigh In & Why Some People Lose Weight Easy
I weighed in today.
I didn't wanna do it. I didn't want to be discouraged. But, it is one of the main ways I track my progress and give myself a reality check. Not fool proof, I know.
Today was a good weigh in.
269
I did it! I dropped below 270. My post and typing would make you think I was excited and happy about it (and I'm happy), but I'm also a bit dread-filled. After I stepped on the scale and weighed myself, I redid it. I have a hard time believing the scale. My second weigh in concurred with my first, and I let it alone.
I will try to be encouraged by this (I imagine the opposite had it said 272 instead), and not immediately dive into the fear of success that I grapple with.
---
Last night as I finished off my soup, wine, and cornbread, I had one of those ding-dong lightbulb moments that happen on occasion. I was diligently tracking my calories. I stayed under. I did well. I felt good about it. I surfed some weight loss/healthy-me blogs and (for some reason) started to get a bit angry. Jealousy, really, I guess.
I was jealous on two fronts: one of the weight loss (and the ease that some of them had with it), two of the ability to just off and get surgery on saggy skin.
The first issue: EASY WEIGHT LOSS
I shouldn't say "easy" because it really isn't. However, there is a difference between changing a pattern of addiction, and simply changing a pattern. Some of the blogs I went to were from people that clearly didn't make good nutritional choices. They simply didn't eat well. Once given the tools (calorie counter, Weight Watcher) or game plan - they were set. The weight melted off. Their only issue was disgust at their prior selves.
My issues, and many of the others that seem to fumble success, losing it through their fingers, going on hiatus, or hesitantly coming back to say they had regained, are deeper. I can follow the program and count my calories, but there is a bigger battle being waged inside of me.
It's the difference of breaking up with someone you hardly know, and someone who you've built your life around. Easy weight loss is losing weight when you don't have "issues" with food that go beyond eating the wrong ones.
The second issue: SAGGY SKIN SURGERY
(No, I haven't called my insurance company yet. I will.)
This is the second part that truly is an obstacle for me. Whenever I go to a blog where someone has lost major weight (over 100 pounds), I look to see if they had THE SURGERY. Many of them have. I do think that the surgery helps a person from regaining. People that have excess skin to tote around tend to be frustrated with it. Though they enjoy their new body, the skin is almost like a cancer reminding them of their prior shame. I see myself in that second category. I see me being happier filling out the skin than having it hang there. I fear that.
Neither one of these are excuses, though. That's the bottom line. Some things are easier or more attainable, life isn't fair. The beauty of it is I can do the work, no matter how hard it is, and overcome obstacles (like saggy skin) if I want to. For me, though, it is a heck of a fight. A life-long battle of the mind.
---
Anyway, Day 3 of my 11 Day Challenge.
Next goal: 264 (decisively below my lowest weight [266] in the last decade)
Surviving Thanksgiving
I survived Thanksgiving. Barely.
Turkey Day, my calorie consumption was surely over. I had potatoes (two kinds), meat, sauces, gravy, pies, real whipped cream, cheese, crackers, cornbread... wine. I had it all.
And then I had more later after I cleaned up.
There was some guilt. I could have portioned my food out while I cooked, keeping within my calories. I could have. I think it would have been too overwhelming. But I might next year, if I'm still doing well like I am now.
It is a nuisance to always watch calories/fats/carbs - but it is not too much fun to feel uncomfortable in your own skin either.
Problem is, my fatigue and overwhelmedness carried over into the next day as well.
I counted my calories, but I'm not doing nearly as good as I did a few days ago. I'm not excited about weighing in, either.
I can't figure out if it is the holidays in themselves that is exhausting and throw me off, or the indulgence in the food. Maybe a bit of both. But I know I'm not at my best when I'm overwhelmed or stressed. I put all of my energy - good energy - into preparing a nice meal for family. I didn't count calories and calculate recipes - I baked by heart, putting into the food what I knew would be tasty.
My relaxed attitude spilled over into Wednesday and I went over my calories then.
UGH. It's hard. Today I'm nearly driving myself nuts trying to keep within the boundaries still. I know how disappointed I will be to have to re-lose weight, though - but I'm also trying to keep big picture about it, and not throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I wish I didn't have the issues with food that I have. I wish I could start from my goal weight.
I don't teach my kids to give up, or back down on the fight. I teach them to work hard and to be disciplined. It's hard when you're not doing that yourself. Although nobody, looking at me, would know how hard I've struggled just to maintain my big body, let alone lose.
Turkey Day, my calorie consumption was surely over. I had potatoes (two kinds), meat, sauces, gravy, pies, real whipped cream, cheese, crackers, cornbread... wine. I had it all.
And then I had more later after I cleaned up.
There was some guilt. I could have portioned my food out while I cooked, keeping within my calories. I could have. I think it would have been too overwhelming. But I might next year, if I'm still doing well like I am now.
It is a nuisance to always watch calories/fats/carbs - but it is not too much fun to feel uncomfortable in your own skin either.
Problem is, my fatigue and overwhelmedness carried over into the next day as well.
I counted my calories, but I'm not doing nearly as good as I did a few days ago. I'm not excited about weighing in, either.
I can't figure out if it is the holidays in themselves that is exhausting and throw me off, or the indulgence in the food. Maybe a bit of both. But I know I'm not at my best when I'm overwhelmed or stressed. I put all of my energy - good energy - into preparing a nice meal for family. I didn't count calories and calculate recipes - I baked by heart, putting into the food what I knew would be tasty.
My relaxed attitude spilled over into Wednesday and I went over my calories then.
UGH. It's hard. Today I'm nearly driving myself nuts trying to keep within the boundaries still. I know how disappointed I will be to have to re-lose weight, though - but I'm also trying to keep big picture about it, and not throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I wish I didn't have the issues with food that I have. I wish I could start from my goal weight.
I don't teach my kids to give up, or back down on the fight. I teach them to work hard and to be disciplined. It's hard when you're not doing that yourself. Although nobody, looking at me, would know how hard I've struggled just to maintain my big body, let alone lose.
291 - Contemplating the Ups and Downs
I saw this and it hit home. Made sense.
PRIORFATGIRL:
Very true. Right now, today, this moment, I'm on an UP. I feel good, I'm motivated. I'm tired of how my clothes feel. I've had 3 good days of eating and tracking. My weigh-in says I've lost 2 pounds. Great. Good. Love it.
One thing I know though, is that no matter if I'm UP or DOWN, I'm thinking about food. My life revolves around it. Does that ever change? If you're an emotional eater, does life ever stop revolving around your (addiction to) food? Right now I have some simple go-to foods that I've eating on a rotating basis, basically just to keep my calories where I want them. Even though they aren't special or spectacular, I'm still finding I'm thinking about the food. Not obsessively, but probably more than I should. I'm forced to think because I'm tracking it, too.
As I read the above blog, though, I had a two-sided reaction.
My first reaction was ahead hanging knowledge of the roller coaster, the ups and downs and in betweens. How when you're UP you can't imagine being anything but, and when you're DOWN you so badly want the magic, the feeling of being UP. I don't know what it is that triggers those times when I'm motivated and all is going well, and what is missing when I'm not.
Find that, and I bet you've got the golden ticket for a LOT of fat people. How many people have you seen lose weight, perform complete transformations on their body, only to gain it back again. How can you go from 400 pounds to 190 and then back to 400+ pounds? I mean, it's slow. It happens, you have to notice, right?
Seems almost akin to fighting a cancer that just wants to be in your body. If your body just wants to get fat again, it will trick your every being into getting there. It will cut you at the soul, remove resistance, and push you back where you were. No matter the humiliation, no matter the tears, no matter how bad you want it - it WILL get you there (see WLS patients who have gone back to their HW and then some... what gives?).
My second reaction was the realization that I can have joy at 294 pounds. I truly can. Maybe I can't have the activities and the body in clothes that other people have, but I can have joy. I've found ways to be happy that come from other sources besides my physical being. That is truly important. Disconnecting the failure and success of my life and its joy source to the state of my body. Praise God for that. People with less mobility than myself are happy. Truly happy. People larger than myself are happy -- just as happy as the 105 pound marathon-running triathlete. Some even more so.
There are people that would look at my fat, happy newlywed friends and think, if only they were healthier and thinner. But if they shut off their own inner stigma, they might notice they ARE HAPPY, and having the TIME OF THEIR LIFE.
In no way am I disputing that having a smaller body can't or won't increase my joy base. I'm sure it would. But I'm also encouraged by people who find joy no matter their circumstance. Love the body you are in, accepting it.
My personal comfort in my body isn't where I'd like it to be right now. I'm at about 60% capacity. I think, with some weight loss, I could be at 80%, and that would bring me 20% more joy.
PRIORFATGIRL:
One moment, I’m holding my head high, confident that healthiness is about how I feel. Healthiness is about balance, about life. Healthiness is about how I feel, not what I weigh.And then, the next moment, I find myself struggling to embrace who I am in my own body. Struggling to love myself for who I am, not the weight I gained.What is healthy living and living healthy?When you’re up, you’re up and when you’re down, you’re down.When you’re up, you feel like you have figured it out.When you’re down, you feel like you’ll never get there.When you’re up, you make eye contact and stand proud.When you’re down, you compare and retreat.What is an up without a down.
Very true. Right now, today, this moment, I'm on an UP. I feel good, I'm motivated. I'm tired of how my clothes feel. I've had 3 good days of eating and tracking. My weigh-in says I've lost 2 pounds. Great. Good. Love it.
One thing I know though, is that no matter if I'm UP or DOWN, I'm thinking about food. My life revolves around it. Does that ever change? If you're an emotional eater, does life ever stop revolving around your (addiction to) food? Right now I have some simple go-to foods that I've eating on a rotating basis, basically just to keep my calories where I want them. Even though they aren't special or spectacular, I'm still finding I'm thinking about the food. Not obsessively, but probably more than I should. I'm forced to think because I'm tracking it, too.
As I read the above blog, though, I had a two-sided reaction.
My first reaction was ahead hanging knowledge of the roller coaster, the ups and downs and in betweens. How when you're UP you can't imagine being anything but, and when you're DOWN you so badly want the magic, the feeling of being UP. I don't know what it is that triggers those times when I'm motivated and all is going well, and what is missing when I'm not.
Find that, and I bet you've got the golden ticket for a LOT of fat people. How many people have you seen lose weight, perform complete transformations on their body, only to gain it back again. How can you go from 400 pounds to 190 and then back to 400+ pounds? I mean, it's slow. It happens, you have to notice, right?
Seems almost akin to fighting a cancer that just wants to be in your body. If your body just wants to get fat again, it will trick your every being into getting there. It will cut you at the soul, remove resistance, and push you back where you were. No matter the humiliation, no matter the tears, no matter how bad you want it - it WILL get you there (see WLS patients who have gone back to their HW and then some... what gives?).
My second reaction was the realization that I can have joy at 294 pounds. I truly can. Maybe I can't have the activities and the body in clothes that other people have, but I can have joy. I've found ways to be happy that come from other sources besides my physical being. That is truly important. Disconnecting the failure and success of my life and its joy source to the state of my body. Praise God for that. People with less mobility than myself are happy. Truly happy. People larger than myself are happy -- just as happy as the 105 pound marathon-running triathlete. Some even more so.
There are people that would look at my fat, happy newlywed friends and think, if only they were healthier and thinner. But if they shut off their own inner stigma, they might notice they ARE HAPPY, and having the TIME OF THEIR LIFE.
In no way am I disputing that having a smaller body can't or won't increase my joy base. I'm sure it would. But I'm also encouraged by people who find joy no matter their circumstance. Love the body you are in, accepting it.
My personal comfort in my body isn't where I'd like it to be right now. I'm at about 60% capacity. I think, with some weight loss, I could be at 80%, and that would bring me 20% more joy.
Self-Care
The cooler air has been a relief.
Forget the blues in winter, I get them in summer. The oppressive heat, humidity and blaring sun do not do good things for momma. I'd much rather be wrapped in a sweatshirt, simmering soup on the stove, baking, cleaning without sweating and sucking fresh air.
Yes, the drop in temperature is welcomed here.
---
My Wii broke. I've been using it to weigh myself, which makes it breaking kind of a sour deal. I don't know what is wrong with it besides the fact that it will not turn on. Pretty basic. I've had the kids look at it (they know more than me about these things) and they weren't able to fix it. I weighed myself on my shipping scale (the back up), and I look to be about the same. Maybe a bit of a loss, I don't know and can't quite remember.
Wii takes off 2 pounds for clothing. I think my shipping scale weighs in 3 pounds heavier. If I weighed 270 on the shipping scale, then I'm about 265? If I remember right. Which I'm not sure that I do. Still, it is a lesson in not being completely married to the scale, or the system, but to rely more on the the process as indication of progress.
Which I am, and am watching what I eat. Shifting here and there, trying to spice things up with new recipes. I've been pretty good about it, making new meals the past few days, shopping ahead (better for finances, too). I think I may have glugged down a half bottle of wine one evening, though. Not the best for calories. But I stayed within my range, crazy as it is.
I've been going for walks. I've been trying to be more active. Consciously.
My wellness is not whole. It isn't just the eating (although it is part of how I comfort myself). The eating is a symptom. The chaos is a symptom. I have many parts of my life that need better balance -nutrition, exercise, finances, household, spirit, self- and I need to maintain focus and better balance. Self-care.
As I tighten up on one area of my life (my eating), I see other parts start to fall in line. But, then, I also see the potential for other areas to become less manageable if I become too focused or immersed in my physical (eating, exercise) well-being.
Right now my immediate concern has to do with work. Last year my hours were cut. I was not happy about it, but learned to live with it, and eventually ended up enjoying it. My hourly cut gave me the opportunity to look beyond my day job--which is just a job, not a career-- to see what other options were available to me. Finishing my degree? Putting time into other areas of my life (self, household, volunteer, my "freelance" work)? Go back to doing some crafting?
Now, my job is wanting me back for the hours it took away. I'm not entirely sure if that is what I want right now. I have a couple of other opportunities that are open to me that, I think, might bring greater fulfillment than the measly dollars I would make stacking on more hours. I have an offer for some freelance work, and I still could finish up my degree. Both would be good, for different reasons. I will pray on it, chew on it and hope I can find some answers and some peace about it.
All of this falls under the "self-care" umbrella. Me, taking care of myself. Making a decision largely based on myself, and less based on everyone else. Not something I generally do. I've dodged out of a million commitments and opportunities simply because I put everyone else in front of me. But in the process of that, I've lost the delicate balance of regarding the family needs as well as my own in my decision-making -- and in that have lost some of myself. Compromised to the point of being nearly suffocated, depressed and lost. For me to be a better mother/wife/sister/human being, I have to regard myself, my boundaries and what is healthy for me, so I can be a better person to other people. As cliche as it sounds, it is true.
Manure Hits Fan
My emotions are tied to my eating. I know and recognize this. Part of my (gag-cliche-gag) journey in all this is facing things head on, sacrificing my pride, and relearning.
I've done good. 70 pounds down, not shabby. But the last couple weeks I've been sliding. The scale hasn't much reflected it, but the way I've been eating has, and the scale is sure to follow. OK. That's a lie. The scale isn't going down. That's how it is reflecting. I'm no longer losing. I'm maintaining, and soon I will be gaining.
I could wax poetic for a bunch of paragraphs, but I'll just claim the truth of it and work with that.
So here it is: my depressed and anxiety-prone adult child is living with us again. For four years we went through, (dragging us with) a nightmare with her as she entered her teen years, barreling through them with drugs, alcohol, risky behavior and excitement, with disregard for everyone around her. I haven't healed from all of that yet, and now we find her back with us. I still have kids in the house who are not grown, which sets off a whole different dynamic.
I'm scarred, and not yet healed from the trauma that we went through. Having her here again has re-opened wounds. The only good thing about having her home is that we know where she is at night, and we know she's not out on the streets doing who knows what. Been there, not easy, but you learn to live with it. I'm not saying it's right or good or even going to "work" letting her stay here in the long run. I'm just saying it is what is now.
Through all those years I never went to counseling. I survived, I got through. I learned and grew as a mother and a human being. I suffered. A lot. More than I care to think of right now. I believe I have a some PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) from all of those years of trauma, lies, fear.
Just as I started to find some peace and healing, acceptance... it comes crashing down again. I've been taking Xanax, occasionally. I went to a counselor for the first time two weeks ago. I'm anxious and irritable, depressed. Feeling the stress in nearly every corner of my world.
I feel horrible, complaining like this, which is why I haven't said anything about it. But today, as I looked at my nearly expended calories, felt stuffed to the gills, poured a Guinness (drank half, then poured it out), climbed in my car for a chocolate run (with a kid in tow to run into the store for me -- I look a hot mess), came back and ate 200 calories of Hershey's (half of that in the car, and half on the couch, still within my calorie range) - and then within a half-hour decided to completely blow it, made an egg bagel, slathered with butter and a dash of grape jelly (I never eat this crap, so I know I'm on a binge), eat it furiously and sit down to type this? I know I have to face it, claim it, name it, pray about it, give it up to God -- whatever I can do to not be consumed by it.
This is where the tough part comes in, honey. And it is tough. Because the most wicked saboteur is not friends, family, commercials, celebrity or anything else. It's SELF. And I was wondering when it would kick in. I was wondering when my willpower and drive would fail. And it is now. When the manure hits the fan.
If I can't keep on the path, despite my unhappiness, then I have problems. I need to face this problem, whatever it is at the root, dig it up and get rid of it.
I don't know how yet. But I'm standing in the hole with a shovel, ready to cut into the root, or pull the dirt over my head.
Not a Plateau
I wouldn't say I'm at a plateau, but I have maintained my weight this week. A plateau would mean that, despite my continued weight-loss efforts, my body refuses to lose weight. I can not say that I was entirely diligent in the weight-loss effort department this week. And that's OK. Maybe subconsciously I need a bit of a break.
I went to lunch with one of my bosses this week. I don't normally do that, even though the opportunity is constantly there. I work in an office of people who love to do lunch. Lunch out of the office or take-out brought into the office, doesn't matter. 99.9% of the time I turn down lunch offers. I always have. Be it money or me watching what I eat, or the fact that I'm working and need to get things done. Last week, though, came to a point of You Can't Refuse The Boss. So I didn't. My resistance was down anyway. It was an excuse not to work on a slow day, it was dinner on the boss, and I like my boss.
And I like food, not to mention.
So I went. Ate reasonable. Enjoyed it. Moved on. Saved my Lean Cuisine for another day.
There's no way I can make it practice, of coarse, or it would be a sabotage of my good habits.
But last week was filled with experiences somewhat like that. Two weeks of this is not good, as far as losing weight goes. I'm tickled to have lost last week and maintained this week, but time has come to gather the discipline despite the food-eating opportunities that summer brings. The heat has been an unfortunate factor for me, too. I haven't gone on the walks I normally do.
So my goal for this next week will be to journal my food every single day and to exercise. Pretty simple. All of this, of coarse, to see the needle on the scale bob a bit lower, which is the whole point of things right now. I'm ready to be out of my 26 pants, feel them getting looser.
It is a delicate balance of motivating myself to move on, but being in tune enough to know not to push to much. Technically, I should be able to stay at 266 for a year. 266 is better than 298, which is better than 338. Using that broader perspective, I am at a better place than I've been in years. I don't want to push myself so much that I throw in the towel.
So we'll see. My hope is continued weight loss. But bigger picture I don't ever want to be back where I was at 298.
I went to lunch with one of my bosses this week. I don't normally do that, even though the opportunity is constantly there. I work in an office of people who love to do lunch. Lunch out of the office or take-out brought into the office, doesn't matter. 99.9% of the time I turn down lunch offers. I always have. Be it money or me watching what I eat, or the fact that I'm working and need to get things done. Last week, though, came to a point of You Can't Refuse The Boss. So I didn't. My resistance was down anyway. It was an excuse not to work on a slow day, it was dinner on the boss, and I like my boss.
And I like food, not to mention.
So I went. Ate reasonable. Enjoyed it. Moved on. Saved my Lean Cuisine for another day.
There's no way I can make it practice, of coarse, or it would be a sabotage of my good habits.
But last week was filled with experiences somewhat like that. Two weeks of this is not good, as far as losing weight goes. I'm tickled to have lost last week and maintained this week, but time has come to gather the discipline despite the food-eating opportunities that summer brings. The heat has been an unfortunate factor for me, too. I haven't gone on the walks I normally do.
So my goal for this next week will be to journal my food every single day and to exercise. Pretty simple. All of this, of coarse, to see the needle on the scale bob a bit lower, which is the whole point of things right now. I'm ready to be out of my 26 pants, feel them getting looser.
It is a delicate balance of motivating myself to move on, but being in tune enough to know not to push to much. Technically, I should be able to stay at 266 for a year. 266 is better than 298, which is better than 338. Using that broader perspective, I am at a better place than I've been in years. I don't want to push myself so much that I throw in the towel.
So we'll see. My hope is continued weight loss. But bigger picture I don't ever want to be back where I was at 298.
266
Through the grazing and the stress, I'm still managing to (slowly) melt away fat (or brain cells, who knows).
OK, OK. Sarcasm aside. Another pound gone. One I don't feel too deserving of, honestly. I feel like I went piggy this past week and didn't put in the exercise time because of the blazing heat. I figured I might stay the same, or go up a pound. So when I stepped on the scale, it was a bit of a surprise to me.
Until I gave it more thought.
The me now is different from the me then, six months ago. Even if I miss a couple of days journaling (I'm not saying it is good, I'm just saying it happens), I try and make up for it-- or I'm really diligent about getting it done for the next few days. Even if I miss a day or two of walking, I put in work another time.
My walks are longer.
My "pigouts" pack less punch.
My food choices are better.
This week we did some pizza pick-up, those $5 special ones with a side of jalapeno cheese bread. Love it, but it is most definitely the devil's food. Greasy, salty, a bit spicy. But falls under the "live to eat" food and not the other way around.
After placing the order, I went and cut up a bell pepper and a tomato, doused it with a tablespoon of Newman's balsamic dressing (light) and ate up, making sure to get my veggies in and fill my tummy on something good.
Pizza comes and I grabbed 3 cheese sticks and a slice of pizza. I ate it all and was stuffed. That... was a pig out.
While feeling the strain of my over indulgence, my mind began to spin (as the norm). I felt like a royal pig with a douse of guilt. But then I contemplated. I stayed within my calorie range that day. No, not the greatest food choices, but still within limits (calorie limits, I think I hit the ceiling on the fat quota). I also noted that I did not go back for seconds. Something that I would normally do. I ate what I put on my plate, and I was done.
Hmm.
Interesting.
Practice breeds habit. Going for walks is becoming a habit. Eating one serving is becoming a habit. Eating smaller more reasonable portions is becoming a habit. Enough so that I'm able to still lose weight, while not being as good as I could be. I'm not saying it is optimum or preferred, but it is a step in the right direction.
Years of lazy eating habits being chipped away at. Never will I get cocky because, like a drug addict, slipping back can make for a sad spell off the wagon.
I Feel Great
I weighed myself and I'm 270. But I'm not going to change the weigh-in from before, because I'm pretty well convinced I'm going to get there within the next week or so. If I don't, then I'll reluctantly change it and suck it up. But I really think I pop a Dulcolax (ahem) and make it to 269. Sorry if that's grouse, but hey.
I've been doing OK, actually. I was a little worried there for a bit because I wasn't journaling or exercising at all (after I got the stomach flu). I thought, Oh here we go... motivation gone, to return whenever? But it didn't turn out to be that way, thankfully.
Right now I'm about 30 pounds down from my February weight and I feel good. I feel great, actually. My highest weight was 338. I was buying my clothes online and had gone beyond the normal accommodations for a fat person. No longer able to buy pants in the store, hard time fitting into chairs and stalls. After getting down to 298 and riding around there for a while, I was teetering on feeling more normal, but still finding myself the largest person in the room, and feeling huge.
Now, at 270/269 I feel much more "normal" in my body. I can shop off the rack. I fit in chairs better.
[digression]
Today I was called into my boss's office and asked to take a seat for a quick conference. Normally I'd perch on the edge of the seat because the armrests were too narrow for me, rather than appear like a pig stuck in the fence, taking notes. For no reason, though, today I slid right back, utilizing the armrests.
What?!
Yeah, baby, yeah.
[/digression]
It's definitely not the end of the road, my goal, or where I want to be. I was wondering today if I could hang out here comfortably for a while, maintain, and let my body settle. I worry too much weight loss is setting myself up for disaster. But I'm not quite ready to maintain at this point. Maybe another 20 pounds and I'll hold that for a couple months. We'll see. I don't really know.
I am finding that I'm still somewhat frightened of losing weight. As much as I enjoy being able to fit into the clothes I have (gosh it feels fabulous), I'm still scared. I'm super excited, though, to have the scale dip below 250. That will be exciting. 238, 100-pounds down will be pee-my-pants hoorah. It will also probably be quite a while, though, because I'm enjoying summer and all of the fun foods, drinks BBQs, sporting events, all that good stuff.
...
On another note, I walked 3 miles yesterday and almost 2 today. I love that I have more energy.
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