1 Month In

Today is my one month anniversary with Weight Watchers. On one hand I'm surprised that I've stuck with it, but on the other hand I'm not surprised in the least. I've hit my rock bottom and I never EVER want to see the scale go up. I've been at my highest and the only place to go is down.

So anyways...I've had a good week. As usual my biggest obstacle was myself. See, we have a scale in the bathroom and every day I've weigh myself. Sometimes I weigh myself as much as four times in a day! Really, what does this accomplish? Nothing. I know its natural for a person's weight to fluctuate a few pounds, but knowing this doesn't stop the negative thoughts of self doubt from creeping in and wrecking havoc. After seeing the scale at a complete stand still and then began to trend upwards I finally realized that I desperately need to STOP stepping on that damn scale! 

I'm a product of my generation and whether I own up to it or not, I want (and would love) immediate results. Rationally I know the fat isn't going to melt away magically....but, the easiest measurable way to “success” is by seeing the decreasing numbers on the scale, right?? I crunch numbers daily at work. I analyze trends in values and can quickly break down number fluctuations into some sort of usable statistical data. I want to be able to do the same thing with my weight loss....and I can't. Sure, I get the concept of “a calorie in, a calorie out”. I know how weight loss happens, but sheesh I would love for everything to be easy and completely exact! 

As I laid in bed last night I thought about Sunday's weigh in and I began stressing about it. I asked myself the simple question, “Is there anything I could've done better this week?” And other than a few slight things, I can honestly say no. I've had a damn good week! So what if the scale wasn't showing me what I wanted, I still had plenty of stuff to be proud of and instead of counting sheep, I laid in bed and counted off my successes for the week. I endured an unexpected lunch out with an underwriter at a restaurant that lacked available nutritional information. I attended my daughter's nursery school dinner and auction and bypassed the bread, limited the pasta and stole my husband's last piece of broccoli! I went out with friends last night and rather than drink myself into oblivion, I budgeted myself two drinks, paced myself and genuinely enjoyed my friends. At the end of my one sided self conversation, my mood improved and I felt much better. As I drifted to sleep I realized there is more to this battle then just the scale.

Staying out late and dealing with the time change was difficult this morning. After only about 4 hours of sleep it was trying to get up and out of bed to make it to my weekly 8am meeting. I looked like crap with my frizzy hair and messy day old make up. I washed my face, hid my hair in a bun and walked out the door in my pajamas (thank you yoga pants and an old t-shirt). It would've been so easy to bypass the meeting and cuddle on the couch with my girls watching cartoons. But I didn't...I got myself to the meeting, I weighed in (and was down 1.2 pounds!!) and stayed for the meeting.

Blogging about all of this is weird. On one hand its incredibly therapeutic, on the other hand there is so much I want to say and get out. How much sharing is too much? How much more scattered can all these thoughts be? All I know is that I feel like I'm finally looking at the world differently....its strange...its exciting....and its kinda scary all at the same time.

Up a Pound

I gained a pound last week.


I spent two days stuck in a hotel in Sacramento and my eating was regulated to conference food buffet options. Sure, there were salads (with full fat salad dressing), grilled veggies (dressed in olive oil) along with an open bar and incredible desserts. The food was rich and laden with extra salt, guaranteed hidden fat and calories I don't need. 


I tracked everything I ate and attributed points values to the best of my ability. I owned up and enjoyed the three Blue Moons I tossed back during our cocktail hour. I patted myself on the back when I ate a third of the bag of chips and when I ate a couple bites of brownie and quickly destroyed the rest so I wouldn't over do it. I was proud when I chose two boiled eggs for breakfast over a platter of breakfast muffins, croissants and danishes. Instead of giving up and writing off those two days, I decided to face each meal as an opportunity. I wasn't going to be perfect, but I was determined to face the challenge head on.


My first two weigh ins were stellar. I know that most people drop larger amounts in the early weeks of their journey. I'm fully prepared to lose a pound a week. I know healthy weight loss isn't found in dramatic numbers. With all that said, last week's increase of a pound has me motivated. My head is totally in the game this week...and its a new feeling for me, but I gotta say, it feels good. I'm an admitted control freak, and the control I've discovered regarding my diet is empowering in a way I hadn't anticipated. I'm hungry for success.

Pulled

My cousin was down from Oregon a week or so ago and we had a couple of good chats. I told him that he shouldn't feel guilty, that at the end of the day there is only so much of himself that he can give away without having anything left for himself. He nodded, smiled and was like, "when I'm having one of those days I'm gonna call you." I give good advice and yet, I have a really hard time following it myself.

In so many areas of my life I push myself to the max. I have to be in control and I thrive in competitive situations, but at the ripe old age of 31 (soon to be 32) I'm beginning to wonder where and how I fit into it all? I never feel as though I have enough time and I constantly want to do more. I don't feel as though I'm special, in fact I know other women feel the same way. From family, to work, to my friends, I'm constantly giving...and if I'm constantly giving, then what is left of me for me?

Pushing the limits, thriving on the power of the pull, playing roulette, waiting for the snap. This has been my life for so long. Its what I know, its what I'm comfortable with. This is my automatic pilot mode. I'm pulled in so many different directions and I would be amiss if I didn't acknowledge the looming feeling that one of these days I'm going to snap.

I see myself as a super hero. I juggle responsibilities like I'm the director of a tableau. Did you know its harder to stay still than it is to keep moving? I've been intrigued by yoga for some time. I even thought about attending a yoga class offered at work. A few weeks ago I found a yoga workout on demand and decided to give it a try before I attended a class and looked like a fool. This video was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I'm a flexible fatty, I should've been able to do a good number of the poses. I sretched, I followed the instructor...only I couldn't turn my mind off. I couldn't consciously breathe. I felt exposed, naked and anxious. Same goes for meditation. I start with the best of intentions and then like a goldfish with a three second memory I lose focus and forget that I'm meditating. I simply don't know how to quiet my mind these days.

Weigh In #2

Tomorrow is my second weigh in at Weight Watchers. Not quite sure how I'm feeling. On one hand I'm nervous (I had a really good first week loss and I know it is very unlikely I will lose that much this time around) and on the other hand I'm actually looking forward to it. In the past when I've tried to lose weight I've been fickle. Most “diets” lose their glimmer after a week or two...I will do really well and then casually start to slide. I tell myself that its okay, that I've had a bad day...that I'll have a fatty double double, fries and large Dr. Pepper because I deserve it. I've slowly begun to realize that I deserve much more than a temporary meal can provide me.

The all powerful “they” tell me that the first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem. Drug addicts and alcoholics can hide their addictions (at least for awhile), but a food addict doesn't have that luxury. People see me and whether intentional or not, judgments are immediately made. Sometimes I can literally see their mind at work and I wonder. Do they think I'm lazy? A slobby sloth without any pride? A woman who simply doesn't care?

The truth isn't any of those things...I don't think I'm lazy, I take pride in my appearance and I honestly care. When you weigh as much as I do the sheer volume of weight I need to lose is so completely overwhelming...how do you wrap your head around the number? Currently I'm hovering just above 400 pounds, to have a BMI within normal range a woman of my height shouldn't weigh no more than 168 pounds. I've done the math over and over again...by those who adhere to BMI I have 237 pounds to lose. There are so many reasons why I haven't genuinely tried to lose weight, but the biggest reason is I have NO clue how to lose that much weight. It seems damn near impossible...and when things feel impossible people don't try.

So, rather than think about losing 200 pounds, 100 pounds or even 50 pounds I've made the commitment to take each day as it is, to really try to learn balance and to make a commitment to myself. The pounds weren't added overnight and they're not going to be lost overnight.

So...tomorrow...weigh in #2...wish me luck!

Always Fat

Its always been obvious that I'm not the same size as the world around me. The mirror doesn't lie and it's not like I haven't known I'm fat. From well meaning friends and doctors with raised eyebrows I can't even begin to count how many times I've been asked, “so, how old were you when your weight became a problem?” I've answered the question with a combination of laughter and blunt honesty. The manner of delivery may change, but the kernel of truth remains, every single memory of myself includes a fat me.

As I child I was chubby and while I succeeded academically I was ridiculed and teased. I was Thunder Thighs, the chatty smart kid who was always one of the last kids chosen for kick ball teams, the little girl who never had first a “boyfriend” to hold hands with. Being a fat kid was rough enough, add in being an asthmatic fat kid and I felt like a leper. In junior high I remember perfecting changing into my PE clothes in less than a minute flat because I didn't want anybody to see my flab. Imagine my anxiety when we did a swimming unit in 7th and 8th grade!! In high school I further buried myself in the world of academics. I took college level classes, joined the Speech & Debate team, participated in successful Mock Trial and Academic Decathlon competitions and generally did my best to forget that I had never been kissed, never dated and never went to a single high school dance.

The size of my clothes is different, but its more than that. As an always fat girl, I'm simply different. In some ways I appreciate a kind smile more than most, I feel for the chubby kid I see huffing and puffing at the park, and when I see a young woman look uncomfortable in tight unflattering clothes I immediately sympathize...and sometimes a feeling of deja vu washes over me.

One way or another, I've always had to deal with my weight. I've ignored it, made fun of it, laughed about it, and for the most part I've made a conscious effort through awkward moments and feelings of inadequacy to not let my size define me. For as long as I can remember “I'm more than just a fat girl” has been my mantra. While I may have hid and avoided my feelings, I've always tried to not let my size hold me back. I've laughed, loved and danced like nobody's watching...

Throughout the years people have remarked that I have a good self esteem. Sometimes I think thats the case, and sometimes in the back of my head I wonder if my high confidence level is nothing more than a coping mechanism. Deep down I know thats not the case; I know that I'm smart, beautiful and wonderful...but on particularly bad days I can't help but wonder.

In the past few years I've finally reached a point in my life where I'm DONE being this fat. In my heart I know I will never be small, in fact I think I will always be a large person...only I know I'm not meant to be this large (nobody is). I  thought about starting a new blog detailing the thoughts and emotions involved in losing weight, but decided to go back to my old blog. This journey is a part of me not only discovering who I am, but making the conscious effort to decide who I want to be. I need to have all the pieces of me in one place. 

The number on the scale only tells one story... I've decided its time to share the rest. 

7/20/11 - Concert in the Park!

After dinner Scott and I decided to take the girls on a spur of the moment trip to Hart Park for their Summer Concert Series. The Doo-Wah Riders were playing, mama likes country and the kids love pretty much any park...so why not!

They love to dance with each other

Scott and Ellie pausing in their funny antics to let Mama take a quick pic

One, Two, Three, UP HIGH!

I tried to get Daddy and his girls...

Pirate Irelyn getting her dance on

Dance like nobody is watching...we all could learn a thing or two from this kid

7/19/11 - Mall Trip

I took some vacation time off of work for some much needed R & R. During my time off we went to the mall one afternoon. I had some Lane Bryant reward checks to use and thought the girls would have a good time playing in the kids area.

Ellie really loved the freedom of running around and climbing on everything

I look like a pimply kid going through puberty and Scott has kid slobber on his shirt. We're so sexy!!

On a boat! (sing it!)

Rare family picture!