Oh right, I have a blog.

I have a tendency to forget that, don't I?  It's been a few weeks since I last updated and I'm proud to say not only am I still chugging along, but I didn't throw myself on my sword and give up after a (relatively small, .4lb) weight gain last week.


Week one was disappointing.  I know, I know:  I should take pride in any loss, but I really had myself convinced that I was going to lose 3 or 4 pounds, so only losing 1.6 was a bit of a slap in the face.  This is what I looked like when I got on the scale the next week and found out not only did I not lose anything, I GAINED .4lb:

(Well, I'm slightly paler than that, but you get the idea.)  But after sitting down and doing the autopsy on the previous week, it was suddenly not so much of a shock that I gained.  (Seriously, pizza AND a medium blizzard on the same day?  What was I thinking?!?!)


Okay.  Back to square one.  This week was much better.  I managed to navigate Mother's Day ("Please don't buy me candy or chocolates!" --me to hubby.) and even a trip to a fast food restaurant.  (Did you know they serve food that's not deep fried and doesn't involve the words "crispy" or "bacon ranch"?  Awesomesauce!)  I've come to realize that weight loss is not just about eliminating entire food groups or cutting calories back to 800 a day.  It's about analyzing your eating habits and strengths and weaknesses and making changes where you need to.  Oh, and I have realized that there are certain foods I absolutely cannot have in the house or I will be forced to eat them.  (Curse you, potato chips!!!  Get off my lawn!  *shakes fist*)  So fresh fruits have replaced chips and pretzels.  Grilled, lean meats have replaced fried and sauteed options.  Casseroles are probably a thing of the past.  (Though I do enjoy the challenge of taking a fat-laden, creamy casserole and lightening it up without losing all the flavor and creamy-comfort-food-ness of it.)  I'm so excited that summer is almost here, because soon there will be an abundant bounty of fresh fruits and veggies available.  (Farmers' markets ROCK!)  


I think I may have finally cracked the code about exercise, too.  I don't do well when I have to exercise by myself.  I lose motivation easily, and my determination wanes, and I really, really, really need someone to call me up and say, "Hey, lazybutt, get your behind down here and walk/exercise with me."  Luckily for me, I have my mom to do that.  We've been walking 3 times a week and are about to increase our walks from 4.4 miles to over 5 miles.  (Whaddya know...the fat girl can walk!)  In fact, we've committed to walking a half marathon next May.  (Hold me, Mommy, I'm SCARED!)  And one of these days in the not-so-distant future, we're planning to join Planet Fitness together.  My goal is to get to doing some sort of activity 5 days a week.  And you know what?  It will happen.  This time feels different.  Maybe it's because I don't feel alone.  Having friends and family along on the journey really makes a huge difference.  Being a realist, I know I will never be a size 6.  But I can be healthy.  And I will.


Because I lost 3.2 pounds today!  Bringing my 3-week total weight loss to 4.4 pounds.


Now 'scuze me for a second while I pat myself on the back...  

Kids say the darnedest things

This morning, when I went in to wake my daughter, she looked at me, all showered and dressed at 7:20 am, and asked where I was going.  (I'm usually in my jammies, hair sticking up like a scarecrow, at that hour of the day.)  I told her I was going to Weight Watchers and she asked what Weight Watchers is.  I said they were helping me lose weight and get healthy.  She thought about it for a moment, then looked at me and said,

"Oh, so when you lose weight will you not have all that (and she pointed to my midsection) and be normal like me?", then patted her flat stomach to show me what "normal" was.


Ouch.

I know it wasn't intentional.  She's six years old, she really doesn't have any filters yet.  I asked her if she'd love me more if I was "normal".  As she was pondering this, my 8-year old son yelled from the next room, "I love you just the way you are, Mom!"

(Have I mentioned how much I love that boy???)

The good thing is that her comment sparked a dialogue between us about love and beauty and that external appearance should not be what we use to judge people.  I think it made an impression on her because later last night, she came up to me and apologized and said I was beautiful and that she loved me very much.  She was so contrite, which is unusual for her because she's normally very unapologetic when she says something only a bonehead would say.

Speaking of Weight Watchers, yesterday was weigh-in number one.  I'm down 1.6 pounds!  I was disappointed at first, because I had myself convinced I'd lost at least 4 pounds.  But I'm not going to be disappointed because a loss is a loss, and at Weight Watchers, we celebrate a loss regardless of the size.  I was re-reading my blog entries and I saw that last year when I was doing the WW thing, my first week wasn't a huge loss either.  So if I'm following a pattern, next week should be a much bigger number.  My mom and I were talking about it and she was so proud of me for losing 1.6 pounds and she scolded me for being disappointed.  It's silly to be disappointed, but years of watching shows like The Biggest Loser have set us up to expect to lose the kind of weight they do.  Of course, I'm not working out with a personal trainer 8 hours a day, but I conveniently forget that part when I step on the scale.  Though I do have to wonder if I'm the only one who thinks the way they lose so much weight so quickly cannot possibly be healthy.  My doctor recommends losing one pound a week, and some of these people are losing 100+ pounds in three months.  It's always interesting to watch the "Where Are They Now?" episodes, because so many of them regain at least a portion of the weight they lost.  (The saddest stories are the ones where they've regained everything they lost and then some.)  I'm trying to be realistic and not set huge goals (as much as I'd like to lose 100 pounds by the time we go to Disneyworld in October, I'll be happy to lose 20 by then.) and to take pride in the little victories along the way.

So hooray for me!  I lost the equivalent of 6 sticks of butter this week!!!  Can I get a fist bump?

The fat girl lives!

Well, well, well.  Look who's still alive.  The original fat girl herself:  me.  Here I am, a year later, 20 pounds heavier (oh mah bob, really?  fatter???) and more determined than ever to finally lose this #$%^^&ing weight.

The past year has been designed by Satan himself to derail me and stress me out to the point of madness.  Between my husband's new job which keeps him away on a rotating schedule that never fails to be as inconvenient as possible (though I am very thankful he has a job and more importantly, a job he likes), a child who was diagnosed with a serious chronic illness and the eleventy thousand doctor's appointments, tests, meds, calls to insurance companies and trips to the pharmacy that have accompanied it, along with my mother's THIRD go 'round with cancer (seriously, Mom, three times?!), I've found myself making stress-induced trips to the fridge more times than I can count.  (And I can count pretty stinkin' high, so you know it's been a LOT of trips to the bloomin' fridge.)  Not that any of that is an excuse.  Because it's not.  It's as more of an explanation than anything.  I'm done rationalizing why I weigh what I weigh.  The truth is that endocrine disorder aside, and stress level aside, I EAT TOO MUCH.  There.  I put too much food into my body and don't do any exercise to burn the bajillion calories I ingest.  Hey!  I think I just had one of those Oprah-sponsored lightbulb moments!!!

So here I am.  Tipping the scales at an even unhealthier weight, but bound and determined that it will come off. We're going to Disneyworld in October and as shallow as it may sound, I don't want to a) be the big fat fattie some poor person has to squeeze next to on the airplane, b) be the big fat fattie who's huffing and puffing through the park, ready to stroke out at any given second and c) I don't want to look at my big fat fattie self in pictures for the rest of eternity.  Oh yeah, and I want to be healthy and not have a heart attack at 41 and live a long life, blah blah blah.  But mostly I don't want to see my bloated face in pictures EVER AGAIN.

In a day and a half, I'll head to see my good friends at Weight Watchers for my first weigh in.  Believe it or not, I'm actually excited about weighing in.  (I swear, I'm not on drugs.)  I've been working the program for 5 days now and I feel really good about weigh in.  It's so amazing to eat because you're actually hungry and not because you're bored and you've trained yourself to always have some sort of food product in your mouth.  I've been walking with my mom 3 times a week and I've surprised myself (and my mom) by walking 3-4 miles each time.  It feels really good!  I whine and moan the entire time about how my hips hurt and how I'm pretty sure I'll die before we get back to the car, but the reality is that I'm proud of myself for making the commitment and sticking to it.  It helps to have someone hold you accountable, and nobody does accountability better than my mom!  I bought a Dancing with the Stars exercise tape for days that we don't go walking, and I'm excited to learn the Latin dances.  (I'm telling myself it's not exercise--it's dancing.  And I looooove to dance!)  Thinking about buying a bike, but that's still a bit down the road.  (Have you seen those retro looking Schwinn coaster bikes?  So flipping cute!  I absolutely need to own one.)  My hope is that a year from now, I won't look back at this blog and see cobwebs because I haven't written any entries.  And it should go without saying that I hope in a year, I will not only NOT be fatter, but that I'll be considerably lighter.

Yup.  It's gonna happen.  I can feel it in my bones...