Leading up to my decision to start Weight Watchers, I wasn't exactly a fan of the program. I viewed it as I did pretty much all diets, it was for people who were too weak to exercise and control their calorie consumption. Not ME. I was accidentally overweight. MY weight was due to a difficult pregnancy. And it was just a matter of time before it fell off of me. Fell off, people. But three and a half years and it wasn't falling off. I was working out like crazy and feeling like I was eating sensibly, but I wasn't losing weight. Clearly, I was one of those people who couldn't control my calorie consumption.
So one day while sucking down a milkshake at Chick Fil A, (And I wondered why I couldn't lose weight. REALLY?) Katie suggested we do Weight Watchers together. I should note here that Katie is a very dear friend for doing this with me because she didn't really need to lose weight but she knew, cause she's intuitive like that, that I needed a nudge, and maybe that nudge was someone to go to meetings or weigh-ins with me. So that very night we went to the neighborhood Weight Watchers and signed up.
Since then I have been to exactly two meetings. But I go for my weigh-ins every week and I follow the points system religiously. And people it is WORKING. I've lost 30 pounds! I'm down two sizes and, most surprisingly, a half a shoe size. I'm running more and faster and easier. My heel spurs are gone. I didn't realize how much weight I was carrying in my face. I swear I've lost a pound of nose alone. I'm smaller than I've been in eight years. I look like me again.
I'm not to my goal yet. And frankly, I was hesitant to write a "look at the fabulous job I'm doing" post yet because I really want a big before and after reveal when I hit my 40 pound goal. But its been a long road and I felt like talking about it a little. So there you go. Status updated.
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Watching
If you are watching your weight now, you will be watching it for the rest of your life.
The leader of one of the first Weight Watcher's meetings I went to said this. Maybe all WW group leaders say this at some point, I don't know. At the time, I heard it, but I was too busy taking in my surroundings for it to really register. In the weeks since then, it has marinated in my brain. I have said the words out loud to myself on a number of occasions driving in my car or looking in the full length mirror in our bedroom. I have rolled them over in my head a hundred times. Dissecting each word.
When it finally sank in, its simple profundity took my breath away. The fact is that without voicing it or ever really even thinking about it, I had fully expected that once I lost the weight, I could go back to my carefree life. I could eat whole pizzas and super size Big Mac meals. Drink Dr Pepper by the gallon. And when I realized that this really did have to be a lifestyle change, that I could NEVER do that again, that is, if I wanted to not weigh 200 pounds, it was the quintessential come to Jesus moment.
But for this instant gratification junkie, the real surprise is that the last eight weeks haven't actually been that hard. In fact, easier than I ever expected. I think the divorce from McDonalds has been harder on my child than me. We drive by almost every day. She will look upon those golden arches longingly and say "freeeench fries." At first it was with expectant suggestion and then enthusiastic hope and now it is mostly in sad remembrance, tasting the salty words in lieu of the actual thing.
But that meeting leader's words were rolling around again in my head tonight as I tried on pair after pair of pre-baby pants and they were fitting. Not just fitting, as in I could get them on but I would never leave the house in them because they were really too tight, but FITTING, like my regular pants are just too big now and these smaller ones are the ones I should be wearing. Anyone who has ever struggled with their weight, and how many of us haven't at one point or another, can appreciate the jubilation of fitting into the next size down.
I am the lightest I have been since before Sophie. I am looking in the mirror and not cringing. In fact, some days, I actually even think I look good. I'm a long way from skinny. In fact, I was this size when a former friend told me REPEATEDLY that I was a BIG girl. So I'm not letting this go too much to my head, but I am trying to revel in my success just enough to keep me motivated to push on further.
My goals when I began this journey were modest. But now I'm starting to think bigger. Or smaller, as the case may be. And I will meet them.
The leader of one of the first Weight Watcher's meetings I went to said this. Maybe all WW group leaders say this at some point, I don't know. At the time, I heard it, but I was too busy taking in my surroundings for it to really register. In the weeks since then, it has marinated in my brain. I have said the words out loud to myself on a number of occasions driving in my car or looking in the full length mirror in our bedroom. I have rolled them over in my head a hundred times. Dissecting each word.
When it finally sank in, its simple profundity took my breath away. The fact is that without voicing it or ever really even thinking about it, I had fully expected that once I lost the weight, I could go back to my carefree life. I could eat whole pizzas and super size Big Mac meals. Drink Dr Pepper by the gallon. And when I realized that this really did have to be a lifestyle change, that I could NEVER do that again, that is, if I wanted to not weigh 200 pounds, it was the quintessential come to Jesus moment.
But for this instant gratification junkie, the real surprise is that the last eight weeks haven't actually been that hard. In fact, easier than I ever expected. I think the divorce from McDonalds has been harder on my child than me. We drive by almost every day. She will look upon those golden arches longingly and say "freeeench fries." At first it was with expectant suggestion and then enthusiastic hope and now it is mostly in sad remembrance, tasting the salty words in lieu of the actual thing.
But that meeting leader's words were rolling around again in my head tonight as I tried on pair after pair of pre-baby pants and they were fitting. Not just fitting, as in I could get them on but I would never leave the house in them because they were really too tight, but FITTING, like my regular pants are just too big now and these smaller ones are the ones I should be wearing. Anyone who has ever struggled with their weight, and how many of us haven't at one point or another, can appreciate the jubilation of fitting into the next size down.
I am the lightest I have been since before Sophie. I am looking in the mirror and not cringing. In fact, some days, I actually even think I look good. I'm a long way from skinny. In fact, I was this size when a former friend told me REPEATEDLY that I was a BIG girl. So I'm not letting this go too much to my head, but I am trying to revel in my success just enough to keep me motivated to push on further.
My goals when I began this journey were modest. But now I'm starting to think bigger. Or smaller, as the case may be. And I will meet them.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Weighty Matters
So I know I've talked about weight loss a lot on here. And for a long time. A depressingly long time. Actually, I would have been writing about it since I was 25 if I'd had a blog back then. Ironically, the weight I was then is my target weight now. But that's a whole different body image kettle of fish.
Anyhoo, since I had Sophie, I have really struggled to lose weight. I gained 45 pounds when I was pregnant with her and too many of those pounds stuck around. Not to mention that I needed to lose more than a couple (dozen) when I got pregnant with her. I began working out more than TWO YEARS ago, with the expectation that by hopping on the treadmill or elliptical five times a week, the weight would just drip off and I would be a svelte goddess in no time.
This did not happen.
I may be in better shape than I was two years ago. I can run a 5K without dying. But I'm only one size smaller. At this rate, it will take me ten years to get to my target size and that just isn't going to cut it. Last year I started counting calories and had some success. But I plateaued and lost my momentum. Slowly over the last year, I have gained much of that back and that is not acceptable to me. So last week I finally admitted that I can't do this on my own and joined Weight Watchers.
I went to my first meeting on Tuesday. I got weighed in. Ouch. And got all of the materials. I sat in the back of the room and took it all in. Listened to people talk about how they combated cravings or substituting healthier options for the bad stuff. I giggled a couple times as I spotted the "women of Weight Watchers." But overall, I'm glad I went to the meeting because I think it was the introduction I needed.
I went home with my booklets in hand, downloaded the app for my phone and fantasized about all the weight I was going to lose.
Six hours later, I started puking. I went on to spend the rest of the week mostly in the bathroom. In four days, I didn't meet my daily points total for one day. And I'm pretty sure any points I did consume went right down the toilet. I'm mostly better now, but my appetite hasn't returned and I suspect that when I go in for my weigh in tonight, I will have hit my initial 5% weight loss goal.
I wouldn't recommend it, but as far as jump starting your diet, you just can't beat a good stomach virus.
Anyhoo, since I had Sophie, I have really struggled to lose weight. I gained 45 pounds when I was pregnant with her and too many of those pounds stuck around. Not to mention that I needed to lose more than a couple (dozen) when I got pregnant with her. I began working out more than TWO YEARS ago, with the expectation that by hopping on the treadmill or elliptical five times a week, the weight would just drip off and I would be a svelte goddess in no time.
This did not happen.
I may be in better shape than I was two years ago. I can run a 5K without dying. But I'm only one size smaller. At this rate, it will take me ten years to get to my target size and that just isn't going to cut it. Last year I started counting calories and had some success. But I plateaued and lost my momentum. Slowly over the last year, I have gained much of that back and that is not acceptable to me. So last week I finally admitted that I can't do this on my own and joined Weight Watchers.
I went to my first meeting on Tuesday. I got weighed in. Ouch. And got all of the materials. I sat in the back of the room and took it all in. Listened to people talk about how they combated cravings or substituting healthier options for the bad stuff. I giggled a couple times as I spotted the "women of Weight Watchers." But overall, I'm glad I went to the meeting because I think it was the introduction I needed.
I went home with my booklets in hand, downloaded the app for my phone and fantasized about all the weight I was going to lose.
Six hours later, I started puking. I went on to spend the rest of the week mostly in the bathroom. In four days, I didn't meet my daily points total for one day. And I'm pretty sure any points I did consume went right down the toilet. I'm mostly better now, but my appetite hasn't returned and I suspect that when I go in for my weigh in tonight, I will have hit my initial 5% weight loss goal.
I wouldn't recommend it, but as far as jump starting your diet, you just can't beat a good stomach virus.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Aaaand Scene!
Sophie: I'm hungry.
Me: Do you want a string cheese?
S: YEAH!!
Me: (grabbing one out of the fridge) Are you sure you want a string cheese?
S: YEAAAHHH!!!
Me: (as I begin to unwrap it) You definitely want a string cheese?
S: Yes, yes, yes! (arms outstretched, jumping up and down)
Me: (holding out string cheese to her, big enticing smile on my face) Here you go, baby.
S: (turning away) Ummm, no.
Replay this scene about 114 times a day and you begin to understand why my kid is so skinny and my ass is still the size of Texas as I eat the stupid string cheese/apple/peppers/crackers/toast/bagel/egg sandwich because I'm tired of throwing food out.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Thoughts of a Dieter
- While the can says there are two servings, five mini-ravioli and a half dozen wee meatballs do not a meal make.
- My skin has been staying pretty clear the last few weeks. Then we had Chick-fil-A, which I LOVE, and my face broke out like crazy the very next day. Further motivation to avoid fast food, even though it calls to me in my dreams.
- Eating a lot of salad does unpleasant things to a person's digestive system.
- My very good friend Katie, who just three days ago gave birth to her second child, a beautiful baby girl, left a huge tin of cookies at my house a couple of weeks ago. It. Is. Torture. But I never eat more thanone two three a day.
- I have been keeping myself to roughly 1600 calories a day, and shockingly, I'm not hungry all the time like I expected to be.
-While I don't recommend it as a regular hunger suppressant, biting into a piece of bone in your tuna salad is one really effective way to kill your appetite and thus lower your caloric intake for the day.
- I'm amazed by how many calories I drink. If I could just cut out the soda and sweet tea, I could eat a lot more. But then I wouldn't get any soda or sweet tea. I'd rather go hungry.
- Despite the temptations and slips, IT WORKS! I'm down close to 10 pounds in 3 weeks! Yay me!
PS - Have you stopped over at Blogtrotting yet??
- My skin has been staying pretty clear the last few weeks. Then we had Chick-fil-A, which I LOVE, and my face broke out like crazy the very next day. Further motivation to avoid fast food, even though it calls to me in my dreams.
- Eating a lot of salad does unpleasant things to a person's digestive system.
- My very good friend Katie, who just three days ago gave birth to her second child, a beautiful baby girl, left a huge tin of cookies at my house a couple of weeks ago. It. Is. Torture. But I never eat more than
- I have been keeping myself to roughly 1600 calories a day, and shockingly, I'm not hungry all the time like I expected to be.
-While I don't recommend it as a regular hunger suppressant, biting into a piece of bone in your tuna salad is one really effective way to kill your appetite and thus lower your caloric intake for the day.
- I'm amazed by how many calories I drink. If I could just cut out the soda and sweet tea, I could eat a lot more. But then I wouldn't get any soda or sweet tea. I'd rather go hungry.
- Despite the temptations and slips, IT WORKS! I'm down close to 10 pounds in 3 weeks! Yay me!
PS - Have you stopped over at Blogtrotting yet??
Monday, January 18, 2010
I (want to) Feel Pretty
I miss dressing up. Skirts. Dresses. Ruffles. Flowers. High heels. I wouldn't have thought I'd miss this stuff when I said adios to the corporate world, but here I am, longing for a pencil skirt and a pair of ankle boots.
These days, it's all about practicality. I only wear skirts when I am going out sans bebe. Mostly because I just spend too much time on the ground with her. And heels. Sigh. Lugging around a 25 pound kid is not especially conducive to anything more than two inches. Even that is too much for most days.
So I jump on every opportunity I get to dress up. Except that after two years of mommy gear, my dressy wardrobe is pretty slim. And I mean that literally. All of my dressy clothes are at least a size too small because they come from my pre-baby time when I was at least 10 pounds thinner. Not to mention the newest of them is three years old. While I have never leaned towards the super trendy stuff, in fact my style could most accurately be calledboring conservative, even classics need updating from time to time.
Here's the rub. I'm working really hard to lose weight. So I don't want to buy pretty, frilly stuff, only to have it not fit in a couple of months. And it WON'T fit in a couple of months. (She says with absolute conviction.)
But wait! We're going to see Young Frankenstein at the Hippodrome this Saturday as part of our second fourth anniversary celebration. We're going with my best friend and her boyfriend, who are themselves celebrating their first anniversary. So just as I was starting to feel down about never looking fabulous, I find myself with the perfect excuse to get all prettified. And even though I don't want to buy clothes thatmight not WON'T fit soon, I will.
Now, if I could only afford those shoes. Sigh.
These days, it's all about practicality. I only wear skirts when I am going out sans bebe. Mostly because I just spend too much time on the ground with her. And heels. Sigh. Lugging around a 25 pound kid is not especially conducive to anything more than two inches. Even that is too much for most days.
So I jump on every opportunity I get to dress up. Except that after two years of mommy gear, my dressy wardrobe is pretty slim. And I mean that literally. All of my dressy clothes are at least a size too small because they come from my pre-baby time when I was at least 10 pounds thinner. Not to mention the newest of them is three years old. While I have never leaned towards the super trendy stuff, in fact my style could most accurately be called
Here's the rub. I'm working really hard to lose weight. So I don't want to buy pretty, frilly stuff, only to have it not fit in a couple of months. And it WON'T fit in a couple of months. (She says with absolute conviction.)
But wait! We're going to see Young Frankenstein at the Hippodrome this Saturday as part of our second fourth anniversary celebration. We're going with my best friend and her boyfriend, who are themselves celebrating their first anniversary. So just as I was starting to feel down about never looking fabulous, I find myself with the perfect excuse to get all prettified. And even though I don't want to buy clothes that
Now, if I could only afford those shoes. Sigh.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Four
One week into counting calories and I am down four pounds. Do I rock or what? The Loser Moms contest technically started yesterday, so I'm not counting those towards that, but still. Four pounds is four pounds. I don't expect to have those kinds of results indefinitely, but if I could even maintain half that, it would be so awesome. And truthfully, I don't feel like I'm denying myself and I don't feel hungry. I even had one day where I completely fell down.
I went to see Avatar. Again. This time in Imax 3D. That would be the second time, btw. This is the first time I've seen a movie twice in the theater since I was maybe 15. It is just so visually amazing. And Sam Worthington is so dreamy. Sigh. I went with my best friend (also her second time) and when we walked out we were both like I want to see it AGAIN! And I might. So that day, during the movie, I had a giant Dr. Pepper, Whoppers, Gummy Bears AND nachos with cheese. Roughly half of my daily calories in one sitting. Later, because I was weak and lazy, we ordered pizza. I ate three pieces and 1/3 of an order of Cinnastix. That meal was more than half my daily calories in one sitting. Well done, Cara.
Despite that, staying on track the rest of the week showed results. No surprise there, turns out it was my consumption that was slowing my weight loss down. Now, I just have to keep it up. I have a little notebook that I am writing everything down in. (Here's an irony, the notebook is called the "fat l'il notebook.") I'm staying strong. I have two motivators. First is the SITS Bloggy Boot Camp in March and second is the Biggest Loser Moms prize money. I want it. I want it bad.
Eye on the prize.
I went to see Avatar. Again. This time in Imax 3D. That would be the second time, btw. This is the first time I've seen a movie twice in the theater since I was maybe 15. It is just so visually amazing. And Sam Worthington is so dreamy. Sigh. I went with my best friend (also her second time) and when we walked out we were both like I want to see it AGAIN! And I might. So that day, during the movie, I had a giant Dr. Pepper, Whoppers, Gummy Bears AND nachos with cheese. Roughly half of my daily calories in one sitting. Later, because I was weak and lazy, we ordered pizza. I ate three pieces and 1/3 of an order of Cinnastix. That meal was more than half my daily calories in one sitting. Well done, Cara.
Despite that, staying on track the rest of the week showed results. No surprise there, turns out it was my consumption that was slowing my weight loss down. Now, I just have to keep it up. I have a little notebook that I am writing everything down in. (Here's an irony, the notebook is called the "fat l'il notebook.") I'm staying strong. I have two motivators. First is the SITS Bloggy Boot Camp in March and second is the Biggest Loser Moms prize money. I want it. I want it bad.
Eye on the prize.
Monday, January 4, 2010
I'm a Loser (I hope!)
(warning: foul language ahead)
It's no secret that I've been struggling with my weight. I gained 50 pounds with Sophie and I don't care to say how much of that I still have yet to lose. After TWO YEARS. I've been working out for quite a while now, but the pounds are just not coming off. Probably has something to do with the fact that while I work out 4-5 times a week, I EAT like 300 times a week.
So since I haven't been so good about monitoring myself, I've decided to take part in the Biggest Loser Moms Fuck All Y'all Edition. Basically, the contest goes from January 10th through April 10th and the person who loses the greatest percentage of their body weight wins.
See, I was going to give myself a challenge. Announce that I would post a picture of myself* in a swimsuit on June 1st. Hoping that this would give me the motivation to get my stuff together. I may still do that, if things go well. No promises, though.
I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to approach this venture. Exercise will continue to be a part of my routine, but obviously I need to take control of my eating. Less soda, smaller portions, smarter snacks. It's not going to be fun, but it has to happen.
So get ready. You're going to be seeing a lot less of my ass in the future.
*A one piece. And I reserve the right to photoshop.
It's no secret that I've been struggling with my weight. I gained 50 pounds with Sophie and I don't care to say how much of that I still have yet to lose. After TWO YEARS. I've been working out for quite a while now, but the pounds are just not coming off. Probably has something to do with the fact that while I work out 4-5 times a week, I EAT like 300 times a week.
So since I haven't been so good about monitoring myself, I've decided to take part in the Biggest Loser Moms Fuck All Y'all Edition. Basically, the contest goes from January 10th through April 10th and the person who loses the greatest percentage of their body weight wins.
See, I was going to give myself a challenge. Announce that I would post a picture of myself* in a swimsuit on June 1st. Hoping that this would give me the motivation to get my stuff together. I may still do that, if things go well. No promises, though.
I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to approach this venture. Exercise will continue to be a part of my routine, but obviously I need to take control of my eating. Less soda, smaller portions, smarter snacks. It's not going to be fun, but it has to happen.
So get ready. You're going to be seeing a lot less of my ass in the future.
*A one piece. And I reserve the right to photoshop.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Yay and Nay
I finally got confirmation that I WON the Mobbie for Best Family Blog!! AND I came in 6th in the Best Overall, which is pretty freaking awesome considering there were over 200 blogs in the running. So a great big
THANK YOU!!!
to everyone that voted for me. Now, we have the awards party tomorrow night and I can't figure out what to wear. The invite says "mobster attire is optional" and I've decided that optional for me means no, but I don't know what to wear. It's in a gallery, so do I go casual or business casual or dressy or WHAT?
I went shopping both yesterday and today. I must have tried on 20 dresses. A couple fit okay but just didn't feel right. Some felt too dressy. Or not dressy enough. I hate this. I hate that my body is so different. I hate that my tastes these days seem to be more nursing home chic than Vogue.
I'll probably wind up in my old standby of black slacks and a sweater. Boring. I need a personal stylist. Who works for free. And if they didn't mind doing some light cleaning, that would be super awesome, too. Anyone looking for a position?
On a lighter and much happier note, the Bean peed in her potty for the first time ever tonight!! I harbor no delusions that she will be completely potty trained any time soon, but this is a pretty big first step, n'est-ce pas? It happened while I was out shopping, but Neil was kind enough to save the peed-in potty for my viewing pleasure. Isn't that sweet?
THANK YOU!!!
to everyone that voted for me. Now, we have the awards party tomorrow night and I can't figure out what to wear. The invite says "mobster attire is optional" and I've decided that optional for me means no, but I don't know what to wear. It's in a gallery, so do I go casual or business casual or dressy or WHAT?
I went shopping both yesterday and today. I must have tried on 20 dresses. A couple fit okay but just didn't feel right. Some felt too dressy. Or not dressy enough. I hate this. I hate that my body is so different. I hate that my tastes these days seem to be more nursing home chic than Vogue.
I'll probably wind up in my old standby of black slacks and a sweater. Boring. I need a personal stylist. Who works for free. And if they didn't mind doing some light cleaning, that would be super awesome, too. Anyone looking for a position?
On a lighter and much happier note, the Bean peed in her potty for the first time ever tonight!! I harbor no delusions that she will be completely potty trained any time soon, but this is a pretty big first step, n'est-ce pas? It happened while I was out shopping, but Neil was kind enough to save the peed-in potty for my viewing pleasure. Isn't that sweet?
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Thin Line
After nearly five months of working out, I am finally beginning to see some changes in my body. I am unofficially down 15 pounds and, glory of all glories, I am down a jean size. I went to the mall to do a little shopping and actually didn't hate trying clothes on for a change. I would even go so far as to say that I kinda liked what I saw in the mirror.
I seem to have crossed some sort of line. Over it, I am fat and ugly and below it, I am skinny and beautiful. It is ridiculous and without basis in any sort of rationale, but there it is.
I am still a long way from my goal. I have a good 25 pounds to go before I hit the weight I was when I met Neil six years ago. While my body has changed, in no small part thanks to having a child, there is no reason to think that I can not be that weight again. It is not even the lightest I've ever been. I was 15 pounds lighter still when I was in college, but I think 25 pounds is a realistic and attainable goal. If once I reach it, I find that I can go further and hit that nirvana weight, then I will go for it, but I will be more than satisfied with the higher number.
Not uniquely, I think, I have a very skewed view of myself. When I am at home, I face my reflection in the mirror and I am not entirely displeased. I'm far from perfect, but I think things generally look okay. But then I will see photographs, or catch my reflection in an unfamiliar mirror or window, and I will see the real me. The one the rest of the world sees. The one that still has too much junk in the trunk, the one who's stomach still sticks out further than I care to think, the one who probably shouldn't be wearing a tank top for all of the meat hanging on those upper arms, and, oh, the extra chins.
How is the vision I see in my mirrors at home so much different from this stranger?
Is the vision of the pretty me the delusion, am I just protecting my eggshell fragile ego from the harsh reality? Or is it the reflection of the ugly me?
Does it even matter?
I seem to have crossed some sort of line. Over it, I am fat and ugly and below it, I am skinny and beautiful. It is ridiculous and without basis in any sort of rationale, but there it is.
I am still a long way from my goal. I have a good 25 pounds to go before I hit the weight I was when I met Neil six years ago. While my body has changed, in no small part thanks to having a child, there is no reason to think that I can not be that weight again. It is not even the lightest I've ever been. I was 15 pounds lighter still when I was in college, but I think 25 pounds is a realistic and attainable goal. If once I reach it, I find that I can go further and hit that nirvana weight, then I will go for it, but I will be more than satisfied with the higher number.
Not uniquely, I think, I have a very skewed view of myself. When I am at home, I face my reflection in the mirror and I am not entirely displeased. I'm far from perfect, but I think things generally look okay. But then I will see photographs, or catch my reflection in an unfamiliar mirror or window, and I will see the real me. The one the rest of the world sees. The one that still has too much junk in the trunk, the one who's stomach still sticks out further than I care to think, the one who probably shouldn't be wearing a tank top for all of the meat hanging on those upper arms, and, oh, the extra chins.
How is the vision I see in my mirrors at home so much different from this stranger?
Is the vision of the pretty me the delusion, am I just protecting my eggshell fragile ego from the harsh reality? Or is it the reflection of the ugly me?
Does it even matter?
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Finally!
I put on a pair of pants this morning that I bought last summer. Last summer they were tight. Today? They were loose.
You may now worship me.
You may now worship me.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
I'll Start My Diet Tomorrow
Right about my birthday, six weeks or so ago, I decided that it was time to buckle down and get serious about getting in shape and losing weight. As everyone knows, the key to making this happen is through diet and exercise. Although I wish it could be as easy as just skipping dessert, the fact is that you really do need to tackle both angles.
I know myself, and I know that I am prone to getting whole hog into something and then losing interest after a few weeks or months. I decided that to be successful, I needed to approach this a little differently than I have in the past. My plan was to begin with the exercise. Do it for a couple of months and then once it was an established routine, I could start working on my diet.
After six weeks of working out four times a week for about 1 1/2 hours each time (1 hour of cardio plus 1/2 hour of strength training), I am now able to go longer and harder on the cardio machines, however the weight loss has been SLOW. I am only down about 7 pounds. I need some faster results, so it's time to enact phase two of Operation Smaller Cara.
It's no secret that I love food. I love it a lot. I mean a lot a lot. I love butter and cheese and bread and pasta and Dr. Pepper and so much more. Cutting down/out is tough for me. But that's the only way I'm going to get the kind of results I want. I have said "MY DIET BEGINS TOMORROW!" a thousand times and a thousand times I have not started my diet the next day. This time I mean it. Tomorrow, I am actually starting my diet.
My plan is less about calorie counting than it is about generally eating less and eating more healthily. It has to be a lifestyle change. More fresh vegetables, less processed sugar. We already began this weekend with some interesting new menu items that were good AND good for us. I am excited to get started with this new challenge.
I'm not giving up my Dr. Pepper, though.
I know myself, and I know that I am prone to getting whole hog into something and then losing interest after a few weeks or months. I decided that to be successful, I needed to approach this a little differently than I have in the past. My plan was to begin with the exercise. Do it for a couple of months and then once it was an established routine, I could start working on my diet.
After six weeks of working out four times a week for about 1 1/2 hours each time (1 hour of cardio plus 1/2 hour of strength training), I am now able to go longer and harder on the cardio machines, however the weight loss has been SLOW. I am only down about 7 pounds. I need some faster results, so it's time to enact phase two of Operation Smaller Cara.
It's no secret that I love food. I love it a lot. I mean a lot a lot. I love butter and cheese and bread and pasta and Dr. Pepper and so much more. Cutting down/out is tough for me. But that's the only way I'm going to get the kind of results I want. I have said "MY DIET BEGINS TOMORROW!" a thousand times and a thousand times I have not started my diet the next day. This time I mean it. Tomorrow, I am actually starting my diet.
My plan is less about calorie counting than it is about generally eating less and eating more healthily. It has to be a lifestyle change. More fresh vegetables, less processed sugar. We already began this weekend with some interesting new menu items that were good AND good for us. I am excited to get started with this new challenge.
I'm not giving up my Dr. Pepper, though.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Cinco de Poundo
I decided when I started working out that despite my incredibly strong desire to weigh myself every time I went to the gym that I would only weigh myself on the Tuesday of each week. Why Tuesday, you ask. Because that is the day I was first "weighed in." Trying to keep it consistent, y'all. My plan was to work out Monday and Tuesday and then Thursday and Friday. Not surprisingly, life has gotten in the way of that on at least two weeks, however I have still made it in at least four times each week.
So, since I wasn't able to go in on Monday, I went yesterday and today and decided that today would be my weigh day. The result: after one month, I have lost FIVE pounds! I know this isn't like wowee zowee kind of weight loss, but I feel it is a healthy amount. Especially considering I haven't really gone full tilt on the diet side of things. Sure, I've made some changes (trading out low-fat mayo for the good stuff and that sort of thing) and I'm trying to eat less, but truth be told, that is definitely an area that could use more improvement (like maybe cutting out mayo?). One step at a time.
Anyways, Five Pounds! Yay me!
On another completely bizarre note, I woke up this morning with a black tongue. That's right folks, my tongue was BLACK. My first thought was, of course, the PLAGUE. Then I thought maybe it had to do with this new cream my dermatologist had prescribed for my face. In an unfortunate turn of events, my skin has just gone crazy lately. I never really had acne as a teenager, or even really in my twenties. I had breakouts from time to time, but it wasn't something that really bothered me. The last few years though have not been good for me and my skin. It really sucks being 35 and still dealing with pimples. So I go to a dermatologist and he has put me on a couple of different creams that generally do a pretty good job of controlling things. The one I had been using seemed to be less effective lately, so we switched to a new one, which I began yesterday. So, of course, this is what I attribute the black tongue to and I immediately call me derm.
After explaining the situation to him, he tells me this is NOT a side effect and to get myself to my GP stat, black tongues are serious business. I decide to give Dr. Internet a quick go before I wake up the baby from her nap (something I am LOATHE to do) and go racing out to the doctor. Turns out, you get it from Pepto Bismal, which I took last night because my stomach was upset. Has this ever happened to anyone before? It sure as hell hasn't happened to me and I am a longtime PB user.
So today's lessons are: 1) Working out works (guess that explains all of the skinny people at the gym) and 2) A black tongue does not necessarily mean you're dead.
So, since I wasn't able to go in on Monday, I went yesterday and today and decided that today would be my weigh day. The result: after one month, I have lost FIVE pounds! I know this isn't like wowee zowee kind of weight loss, but I feel it is a healthy amount. Especially considering I haven't really gone full tilt on the diet side of things. Sure, I've made some changes (trading out low-fat mayo for the good stuff and that sort of thing) and I'm trying to eat less, but truth be told, that is definitely an area that could use more improvement (like maybe cutting out mayo?). One step at a time.
Anyways, Five Pounds! Yay me!
On another completely bizarre note, I woke up this morning with a black tongue. That's right folks, my tongue was BLACK. My first thought was, of course, the PLAGUE. Then I thought maybe it had to do with this new cream my dermatologist had prescribed for my face. In an unfortunate turn of events, my skin has just gone crazy lately. I never really had acne as a teenager, or even really in my twenties. I had breakouts from time to time, but it wasn't something that really bothered me. The last few years though have not been good for me and my skin. It really sucks being 35 and still dealing with pimples. So I go to a dermatologist and he has put me on a couple of different creams that generally do a pretty good job of controlling things. The one I had been using seemed to be less effective lately, so we switched to a new one, which I began yesterday. So, of course, this is what I attribute the black tongue to and I immediately call me derm.
After explaining the situation to him, he tells me this is NOT a side effect and to get myself to my GP stat, black tongues are serious business. I decide to give Dr. Internet a quick go before I wake up the baby from her nap (something I am LOATHE to do) and go racing out to the doctor. Turns out, you get it from Pepto Bismal, which I took last night because my stomach was upset. Has this ever happened to anyone before? It sure as hell hasn't happened to me and I am a longtime PB user.
So today's lessons are: 1) Working out works (guess that explains all of the skinny people at the gym) and 2) A black tongue does not necessarily mean you're dead.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Working Out
I finally broke down and joined a gym yesterday. It's been way too long since I've been happy with the way I looked. In addition to the weight I gained during those first years with Neil, when blissful new couple that we were, we ate out like four nights a week. And I'm not the kind of girl to just order a salad when I'm at a restaurant. Or if I do, it's the big honkin' Cobb Salad with all the fixins. But then there's the extra twenty pounds that I gained when I was pregnant with Sophie that I haven't been able to lose. All of that business about breastfeeding making you lose all the weight may be true for some, but then you're also ravenously hungry, because you're feeding two people. The calories in barely equal the calories out.
I'm not going to feed you a line of bull about how I'm doing this just to get in shape, to have more energy. I'm doing this to lose weight. I mean, I'm going to be healthy about it, and those are positive side effects, but my goal is to get into a smaller size. I know Oprah says that's the wrong way to approach it, but why varnish the truth? I did one of those on-line BMI calculators and it said I was obese. O-frakking-bese. You can't sugar coat that. Something has to change. I do go walking regularly but with the weather so unpredictable at this time of year, it's tough. I need somewhere that I can go that doesn't depend on the weather. We have an exercise bike and a stepper, but I have a hard time motivating myself to get on them. Those hours when Sophie is napping are so dear to me. If I'm not napping myself, then I am trying to accomplish some of the ten thousand things that need to be done around here.
Here's the biggie, and the thing that will probably keep me going back: they have child care. I can go any time of day and she can spend an hour with the other kiddies while I get some time to myself. How precious is that?
I'm pretty excited.
I feel skinnier already.
I'm not going to feed you a line of bull about how I'm doing this just to get in shape, to have more energy. I'm doing this to lose weight. I mean, I'm going to be healthy about it, and those are positive side effects, but my goal is to get into a smaller size. I know Oprah says that's the wrong way to approach it, but why varnish the truth? I did one of those on-line BMI calculators and it said I was obese. O-frakking-bese. You can't sugar coat that. Something has to change. I do go walking regularly but with the weather so unpredictable at this time of year, it's tough. I need somewhere that I can go that doesn't depend on the weather. We have an exercise bike and a stepper, but I have a hard time motivating myself to get on them. Those hours when Sophie is napping are so dear to me. If I'm not napping myself, then I am trying to accomplish some of the ten thousand things that need to be done around here.
Here's the biggie, and the thing that will probably keep me going back: they have child care. I can go any time of day and she can spend an hour with the other kiddies while I get some time to myself. How precious is that?
I'm pretty excited.
I feel skinnier already.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Monitor
When Sophie was born, we agreed to be part of a two year study through Johns Hopkins that tracked her growth. Up until now it has been fairly low effort on our part. All we have to do is come in a little early for her regular pediatric appointments and the researchers weigh and measure her. Then I answer a few questions about her dining habits and we're on our way with a $10 gift card to Target in hand. Which, as I was telling a friend, is like that free hit of crack. I get that gift card in my pocket and I start thinking that I should go and spend it. The next thing you know I'm walking out of Target with $100 worth of stuff I didn't need for the bargain price of $90.
This past Friday, Sophie had her 15 month well baby appointment. The good news: she now weighs 18 lbs and 11 oz and is back on the percentile chart, albeit the bottom end, but still. Even though Neil and I were sure that she had gained weight, I had steeled myself against the possibility that her weight gain was still too little. But for naught.
Usually, we have our study appointments before the doctor's visit, but for some reason they switched it up this time. Which meant that by the time we got in to see them, Sophie had just sat, naked, in a sterile room for an hour, followed by two shots. It is an understatement to say that we neither of us were in peak form. Which is why the usually easy measurements went very badly, in fact the research person
was not able to get the one that involves attaching little electrodes to her feet and hands and I think measures body fat. I should probably know that for sure. Bad mommy. And then after much crying, wriggling, screaming and general unhappiness, the researcher tells me that Sophie has to wear this little monitor on her ankle for the next four days and that I have to track her activity, on an hourly basis, for that entire time.
I'm about four seconds from telling her what I think of her monitor, when she pulls out the gift card and all is forgiven. Damn you, Target, why can't I resist you?
So we left with my daughter tagged like a housebound felon. The researcher said that most kids forget about it as soon as you get them dressed and this was mostly true. Although she often played with it while I struggled to change her diaper, for the most part she ignored it. And as it turns out, filling out the forms to track her activity wasn't as much of a pain as I thought it would be either.
I took the monitor off today and sent it back to the research group. It wasn't so bad, but glad to be done with it. My girl has been paroled.
This past Friday, Sophie had her 15 month well baby appointment. The good news: she now weighs 18 lbs and 11 oz and is back on the percentile chart, albeit the bottom end, but still. Even though Neil and I were sure that she had gained weight, I had steeled myself against the possibility that her weight gain was still too little. But for naught.
Usually, we have our study appointments before the doctor's visit, but for some reason they switched it up this time. Which meant that by the time we got in to see them, Sophie had just sat, naked, in a sterile room for an hour, followed by two shots. It is an understatement to say that we neither of us were in peak form. Which is why the usually easy measurements went very badly, in fact the research person
was not able to get the one that involves attaching little electrodes to her feet and hands and I think measures body fat. I should probably know that for sure. Bad mommy. And then after much crying, wriggling, screaming and general unhappiness, the researcher tells me that Sophie has to wear this little monitor on her ankle for the next four days and that I have to track her activity, on an hourly basis, for that entire time.I'm about four seconds from telling her what I think of her monitor, when she pulls out the gift card and all is forgiven. Damn you, Target, why can't I resist you?
So we left with my daughter tagged like a housebound felon. The researcher said that most kids forget about it as soon as you get them dressed and this was mostly true. Although she often played with it while I struggled to change her diaper, for the most part she ignored it. And as it turns out, filling out the forms to track her activity wasn't as much of a pain as I thought it would be either.
I took the monitor off today and sent it back to the research group. It wasn't so bad, but glad to be done with it. My girl has been paroled.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Breakfast Blues
Friday morning, while Neil was at work, Sophie, my parents and I went to the local diner for some breakfast. Sophie was in great spirits, smiling, laughing and being extremely playful. Patrons at other tables, as well as all passing servers, smiled and waved at her while she hammed it up. Loving the attention she was getting almost as much as she was, I smiled and chatted up my parents while we enjoyed our breakfast.
In the last few weeks, Sophie has begun to be more adventurous when it comes to table food. She will try most foods, although she still has some texture issues. However, she doesn't seem to quite understand the need to thoroughly chew her food and often gags. Further complicating this, she grabs food and puts it as far back in her mouth as possible. I suspect with her less than perfect hand-eye coordination, she is just trying to ensure delivery, but it makes me nervous when she attempts to swallow her food whole, like an anaconda.
So as we sat at breakfast, it seemed an opportune time to introduce her to some new food. My meal included bacon and I thought we would give it a go. Neil considers it the perfect food and would be happiest if all meals included it. So how could we go wrong? She seemed to enjoy it, gobbling up several pieces as fast as I could tear them up. Heady in our success, I followed it up with a couple of small bites of waffle and eggs.
As I was telling my parents what a great kid she was, generally cheerful, good sleeper, etc, she began to gag. And not the is-she-or-isn't-she kind of gag, but the lookout-it's-coming kind. I registered someone at a neighboring table say "Uh Oh!" and then out it came. And came. And came. Despite my attempts to catch it, it went all down her front, the high chair, the floor, my arm. I was absolutely mortified.
I swear karma has it out for me.
In the last few weeks, Sophie has begun to be more adventurous when it comes to table food. She will try most foods, although she still has some texture issues. However, she doesn't seem to quite understand the need to thoroughly chew her food and often gags. Further complicating this, she grabs food and puts it as far back in her mouth as possible. I suspect with her less than perfect hand-eye coordination, she is just trying to ensure delivery, but it makes me nervous when she attempts to swallow her food whole, like an anaconda.
So as we sat at breakfast, it seemed an opportune time to introduce her to some new food. My meal included bacon and I thought we would give it a go. Neil considers it the perfect food and would be happiest if all meals included it. So how could we go wrong? She seemed to enjoy it, gobbling up several pieces as fast as I could tear them up. Heady in our success, I followed it up with a couple of small bites of waffle and eggs.
As I was telling my parents what a great kid she was, generally cheerful, good sleeper, etc, she began to gag. And not the is-she-or-isn't-she kind of gag, but the lookout-it's-coming kind. I registered someone at a neighboring table say "Uh Oh!" and then out it came. And came. And came. Despite my attempts to catch it, it went all down her front, the high chair, the floor, my arm. I was absolutely mortified.
I swear karma has it out for me.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Cue The Broken Record
Last Friday I had to take Sophie back for a follow up visit to the pediatrician. She's petite, my little bean, and that has the doctor worried. Me? I go back and forth. On your average day I can tell myself that she is healthy, happy and smart. She's meeting her milestones and is one energetic little thing. Plus, I was a small baby. Heck, I was a small kid. At 11 years old, I was five feet tall and 65 pounds. Think about that for a moment. That means I was just five inches shorter than I am now and roughly 1/3 the weight. (I don't actually weight 195 pounds, but I'm closer to that than to 130, which is double. HUGE sigh.)
But then I go to the doctor and I see the words: Failure To Thrive on Sophie's chart and I lose all my confidence. My eyes fill up and I have a hard time saying all of this to the doctor. The doctor says she just wants to run some tests to make sure there aren't any obvious problems because she has only gained 5 ounces in the last month and she should have gained more like a pound. She wants to make sure there isn't something wrong with her thyroid or anything. She says she would love to send her to a pediatric nutritionist but that the only one in the area is full of kids that are overweight and it would be six months before we could get her in for an appointment.
I hate this. I hate feeling like I need to shove food down my daughter's throat. I hate keeping a journal of everything she eats. I hate trying to find the most calorie-laden food to give her so she gets the biggest bang for her buck. I worry that all of this will have a greater effect on her, that she'll wind up with some sort of eating disorder because I was stuffing her like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.
Mostly, though, I pray that nothing really is wrong with her. That the bullet I feel like I dodged when she came out perfect won't catch me now.
But then I go to the doctor and I see the words: Failure To Thrive on Sophie's chart and I lose all my confidence. My eyes fill up and I have a hard time saying all of this to the doctor. The doctor says she just wants to run some tests to make sure there aren't any obvious problems because she has only gained 5 ounces in the last month and she should have gained more like a pound. She wants to make sure there isn't something wrong with her thyroid or anything. She says she would love to send her to a pediatric nutritionist but that the only one in the area is full of kids that are overweight and it would be six months before we could get her in for an appointment.
I hate this. I hate feeling like I need to shove food down my daughter's throat. I hate keeping a journal of everything she eats. I hate trying to find the most calorie-laden food to give her so she gets the biggest bang for her buck. I worry that all of this will have a greater effect on her, that she'll wind up with some sort of eating disorder because I was stuffing her like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.
Mostly, though, I pray that nothing really is wrong with her. That the bullet I feel like I dodged when she came out perfect won't catch me now.
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