Day 25: Progress

Well, now we're getting somewhere. 

After my pity party 10 days ago, my sister-in-law reminded me that I have a very cool app that helps me track my food, water, macronutrients, exercise, and anything else I might want to track. I was pretty sure I knew I was eating what I needed to eat in order to lose weight, but I decided to humor her. 

I fiercely did not want to track my intake, for a lot of reasons. Mainly, I didn't want to get hung up on the calories in-calories out mentality, because there are so many other things that play into weight. I know I need to focus more on those other things if I don't want to boomerang right back to an unhealthy weight. But I did track my intake, faithfully, and now I'm seeing the results I was struggling to see before. 10 days and 4 pounds later, I must admit that I am happy I am tracking. But, I'm also still concerned about losing the details by focusing on the big calorie picture.  (The Calorie Myth by Jonathon Bailor is a good read for anyone interested in why calories are only one small piece of the weight puzzle. Any podcast bearing his name is great, too.) As long as I remain conscious, and keep working on improving my diet by small steps, I know I will create in myself a new lifestyle and mentality that will help me maintain a healthy weight for life. 

What's different about me today?

About a month into my commitment to improve my life, I have noticed some qualitative changes that are pretty cool. 

I don't crave sugar nearly as much as I did before. I went to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting once, and they mentioned to avoid refined sugar. I asked my host why and she said that it was considered a trigger food. I've held onto that note for the last twelve years since that meeting, and I believe it. I definitely notice that when I don't eat sugar, I don't crave sugar. 

I feel a lot lighter walking up the stairs. Even when I'm carrying one of my kids. It's amazing what a little strength training can do to make you feel ... stronger!

I can get up from sitting on the floor. Even when I'm holding one of my kids. I have trained my 19-month-old to get off my lap and stand on the floor while I stand. Then, and only then, will I pick her up. Now it's much easier to just stand up - I don't have to rock back and forth and make a production out of it. If someone had told me 10 years ago that at 32 I would be celebrating my ability to stand up off the floor, I would have laughed. 

All in all, I feel better today than I did a month ago. Comment below to share your progress as well!

Day 15: My scale is broken.

It must be. It has to be. I can think of no other explanation. 

Every few days, when I'm feeling particularly lean (read: hungry), I take the scale out of the closet and hop on. And every single time it reads the same number. 

233.5

It doesn't seem to matter whether I weigh myself first thing in the morning or right before bed, before I eat or after a hearty lunch, undressed or wearing full SWAT gear. 

233.5

So then I get the kids involved. They love the scale so they have no problem patiently waiting for me to zero the display and then standing on it as if it were an MBTA trolley or a snowboard: knees slightly bent, arms out for balance, eyes straight ahead. Forty-eight, one reads. 32.5, says the other. Then I step back on, and up goes the readout. 

233.5

Now, for those of you who are keeping a tally, this ain't my first rodeo. A month ago I could have written the script for the way my weight loss would go down. I would exercise a lot, I would watch my diet a great deal, and within days I would see the fat falling off. After a while, the weight loss would slow down, but I would still see changes in my body and go down in clothing sizes. That's the way it happened in 2002. And 2005. And 2008 and 2012. But that's not what's happening now. I feel sore, I feel tired, and I feel angry. I feel like my body is betraying me by not showing much difference - if any - even though I'm working my ass off. I know that the scale is not the only thing that matters - but it's one of the things that matter, and the one from which I expected to see a change before all others. 

I tell myself I won't get back on, but it doesn't work. Whenever I feel like I might be a little lighter than I was the day before, I drag it back out and the self-shaming starts all over again. It can be really demotivating, but I just have to turn it into motivation to work even harder and do even better. 

When will this change? Sooner or later something's gotta give - right? How am I going to reach my goals if I can't even manage to lose a couple pounds?

Day 11: Exercise is hard.

No, I didn't have a heart attack. I didn't fall off the wagon this early in the game. I'm just tired. And busy. But mostly tired. And I have a phone that likes to eat posts when they're 3/4 of the way written, which is good for adding another layer of unnecessary irritation to my life. 

My trainers had me fooled. The first session on Day 2 - it wasn't easy, don't get me wrong. But it didn't kill me. I was able to move the way she wanted me to move.  I was tolerably tired at the end and pleasantly sore the next day. I even went for a nice swim on Day 3. I swam nonstop for 20 minutes and worked on my endurance and on maintaining good form while my muscles were tired from the exertion and sore from the previous day's workout. This isn't so bad, I thought as I made my way to my car. 

So on Day 4 when I sauntered into the studio and met my trainer for the day, I had no idea what I was in for. Apparently during the first session they were just feeling out my limits. And since then, our focus has been on breaking through them.

I can't do this. 

About 43 minutes and 15 seconds into my second 45-minute session, those words started playing on a loop in my mind. I was doing medicine ball slams, a very loud exercise that always seems really fun but manages to completely kick my ass. My foolish mind took my trainer's "two minutes" literally, so when my four 30-second sets were over, I threw down the ball triumphantly. "Ummm, whatcha doing?" I heard him say. "Next set is starting. GO!"

What? Crap. Really? FOUR MORE SETS?! Oooooookay............ As I struggled to pick up that ball over my head and slam it down, over and over and over, I thought to myself again, I can't do this. 

But I will. 

Soon enough the workout was over and I was stretching and showering and carrying on with my day. I find myself excited and nervous every time I have a training session. I hired trainers because I know they will push me harder than I will push myself. It takes me out of my comfort zone, which is - well - uncomfortable. But I keep going back, because I know it's worth it. I took some Day 10 photos this morning. Aside from the fact that I appear to be succumbing to gravity, I do think I'm seeing some subtle changes. Those moments that push my limits are the ones that will change my body. 

What exercise pushes your limits? Do you seek it out or avoid it like the plague?

Temptation

There's a reason people wait until the end of the holiday season to start watching what they eat. It's the same reason many people gain weight around the holidays. There are so many treats and rich foods around, so much temptation, that we want to be able to gorge ourselves on gingerbread cookies and fudge and pie and fruitcake (has anyone ever actually eaten fruitcake?) and mashed potatoes and stuffed shells and whatever else our families and friends supply in seemingly unlimited quantities. After the holidays, we say, we will pay more attention to what we eat. During November and December  - nearly 20% of the year, by the way - there's just too much temptation. We cannot possibly be expected to limit ourselves when the culinary possibilities are so limitless. But after New Year's, when the cookies and pies aren't staring us in the face at every turn? Sure. Then, we can cut back. 

But there's a problem with that line of reasoning: What happens when we are tempted at the Valentine's Day party and the Memorial Day barbeque and the Fourth of July celebration and Susie's birthday party and all the other occasions where yummy food is just sitting out for the taking? If you're anything like me, you will eat and eat until you can't eat anymore. And then you'll have dessert. 

If we don't teach ourselves how to control ourselves in the face of temptation, then the next time temptation comes up we won't control ourselves. We will keep going back for those delicious (and terrible) frosted sugar cookies. We will sneak another serving of pie or an extra meatball or keep going back to those delicious caramels we keep in the cabinet for special occasions. 

As a teacher, especially when I taught elementary school, it was too much for me. Parents want to do something nice for teachers, and a lot of the time that nice thing turns out to be edible. So I would go home for winter vacation with armloads of empanadas, cookies, tamales, candy, tres leches cake - you name it. And my inexplicable guilt over wasting food would lead to my consuming every single bit of it. Even the stuff I didn't like. Even when I wasn't hungry. 

This year, I thought I'd made it through unscathed. Until one of my tutoring families gave me this awesome gift package. I opened it and saw my favorite awful candy of all time: candy corn. They knew how much I love candy corn, and they gave me a whole bag of it. As I turned over the crinkly bag in my hand, I wondered what I should do with this temptation. Candy corn is one of those things of which I could mindlessly eat an entire bag and then feel like crap, and then go looking for more. So at first, I thought,"I have to throw this away. I can't control myself."

And then I thought, "That's just ridiculous. I can do whatever I want."

So I decided candy corn would be my sweet treat and I would have one serving and put it away. And guess what. That's exactly what I did. Because I control what I do. Not candy corn, or coffee cake, or chewy Chips Ahoy. Just me. 

Since then I have resisted some urges and stepped out of some patterns that might seem small but are huge for me. It just took that little bit of self-talk and affirmation to remind myself who's in charge. 

What's your temptation? How can you kick that temptation in the face and take back control?

Day 1: Goals

Two hundred thirty-three pounds. 

Forty-two-inch chest, 49-inch waist, and 49-inch hips.

And carrying a whole lot of potential. 

Well, crap. 

I don't want to do this. 

I told myself I'd publish all my dirty details. But I so don't want to. I told my husband the fitness assessment wasn't good. "Did you expect it to be?" he asked, ever the pragmatist. Well, no. I guess not. But part of the reason I resisted seeking help for so long was that I didn't want to face the numbers. 

But, here they are. And rather than feeling weighed down by the baggage, I choose to feel lifted by potential. 

I know all my teacher friends will chuckle when they see I was required to write SMART goals for myself - that is, goals that are Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Timely. If any of the teachers I support see this, they'll chuckle as well since I'm sure my voice haunts their sleep: "How can you make that learning goal a little SMARTer?" I better be able to write a damn good SMART goal for myself. 

My goals are pretty simple: lose pounds, lose body fat, and exercise more. I based them off of what I think is realistic for myself - working out 3 times a week is pretty realistic when I'm paying for someone to lead me through 2 of those workouts, and as the scale lowers (which it will because of my nutrition if nothing else), the body fat percentage will go right along with it. 

These photos are, I'm sure you know, not easy to share. I remember myself as a 165-lb. triathlete who was cheering on my teammates as we ran the Big Kahuna half-Ironman triathlon in 2006. I remember wearing spaghetti string tank tops out to the bar with my friends and feeling so good about myself. 

Today, I am working really hard at being proud of my body. I am proud that it has borne two perfectly imperfect little girls and nursed them both for as long as they have wanted and needed to nurse. I am proud of my body inasmuch as I am proud of myself - for working so hard at developing as a parent, as a professional, as a human.  But I it would be disingenuous of me to pretend I love the way I look. 

But, this endeavor has not been undertaken out of vanity. Obesity leads to so many other complications - Type II diabetes, heart disease, stroke, and the list goes on. I want to lead a healthy life and show my kids how to do the same. And, dropping a few pounds will relieve a lot of stress from my joints which are already screaming for a break. 

I am so eager to get to my first personal training session on Friday, so I can work on getting stronger and improving my stability. Step by step, I will reach these goals and never look back. With my supportive family and friends, I will make the lifestyle changes necessary to maintain a healthy weight and level of exercise. It all starts with a goal. 

What are your goals for improving your health and fitness?

Today, I Turned Down Chocolate

OK, maybe "turned down" isn't entirely accurate because I believe that in order for me to turn down something, it first needs to be offered by someone.  

This chocolate was more just existing. Existing ever so demurely in the corner of a common area at work as if to say, "You can have me. If you want. Do you want me?" So I guess maybe I was right before when I said I turned it down, because that shameless chocolate was offering itself. 

One Valentine's Day years ago, when I was a kindergarten teacher, a student brought me a huge box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. I'm sure you've seen them around - the round chocolates with nuts and the hazelnut cream center? I was excited, because you know how much I love sweets. I couldn't wait to have one. I may have even opened them in my classroom after the kids left that day. I hurriedly unwrapped one, excited for the treat I was about to have. I took one bite, and I remembered. 

I hate these things. 

They always look so good, so enticing. But I really kind of hate hazelnut. So, naturally, I did what anyone would do. 

"Did you throw the candies away?" you ask. No way! "Oh, then you put them in the teachers' lounge so others could enjoy them, didn't you?" I hear you think. Ummmmm, no. "Well, then surely you donated them to a worthy cause?" That's a negative. 

Any addict will tell you - even subpar product does the trick. Just like a true seeker isn't usually too particular about the exact form her fix takes, so am I rather un-picky about how the processed sugar makes its way into my belly and brain. So if I didn't get rid of them, what did I do with them? You guessed it. 

I ate every last one of them. 

And that's no isolated incident. Last Halloween, after all the "good" candy had been scavenged, I was sneaking Mounds and Almond Joy out of the box that was stashed high in my bedroom closet, just because I needed something sweet. I ate them with a grimace, because I hate coconut even more than I hate hazelnut. In fact, one year when I was very young, I flew into a very uncharacteristic rage at my birthday party because I thought I tasted coconut on the cake. With such a hatred for coconut, you'd think I'd be able to find something to do other than hide in my closet eating coconut candy bars 3 weeks after Halloween had passed. 

I tell these anecdotes for a couple reasons. First, I think there are many people out there who can relate. And second, because the candy that beckoned to me with its siren's call today? It was a single, solitary Ferrero Rocher. 

And I Turned It Down. 

Breakfast Battles

Today, I witnessed my 3-year-old throw one of the biggest tantrums she's ever thrown. And that's saying a lot. And it was all over a waffle.

My sweet girl is allergic to corn. You'll come to know, if you spend any time here at all, that corn is everywhere and everywhere is corn. So her diet is pretty limited. Not nearly as extreme as some kids I know, but still. It makes life a considerable amount more difficult for us. On Sundays, we always have bacon and eggs for breakfast. Always. Without fail. But, since the holidays began, the only kind of bacon she can eat, outside of us butchering our own pig, is unavailable. To make it up to her (she is incredibly disappointed) I told her I'd make waffles this morning. I said this on Friday night. 

This morning the first thing she said to me was not, "Good morning, Mama! I hope you slept well. It's so wonderful to see you!"  No. Instead her eyes peered up at me expectantly as she grinned and said, "Are you making waffles today?" Yes, sweetheart. Yes I am. 

All went well as both she and her 18-month-old sister helped me mix the dry ingredients, mix the wet ingredients, even beat some egg whites for texture. They helped me pour the wet into the dry, and even kept a respectful distance from the hellfire-hot waffle iron. 

When the first waffle hit the plate, big sis was on it. "Can I have that one mama? Can I have that one? I really want that one." Patiently she waited as, one by one, we poured and waited. Six whole waffles later, she finally got her wish and was given a whole, entire waffle complete with butter and syrup to go with her eggs. 

Breakfast continued in a similarly uneventful manner until her waffle was nearly gone. Her first big, huge waffle wasn't even finished yet, and now she was asking for another one. Hmm. What I don't want to do is to make food a power struggle. What I do want to do is model restraint and help my kids understand what portion sizes are, how much of each macronutrient we should eat in relation to the others, and why each is important. "Let's finish what we have first, before we get any more." Not, for the record, an acceptable answer to a 3-year-old. She did finish, and when I explained that the 2 big waffles were going in the freezer for later and that she would get one section, or 1/4 of a waffle, she lost her mind. 

Quarter-waffle in hand, she let out the biggest, loudest scream and continued on that path for about 10 minutes. We took her to her room to calm down. I hugged her. We reminded her that screaming like a beast has never resulted in her getting the thing we said she couldn't have in the first place. We reminded her of why we were saving the waffles and why she shouldn't be eating so much waffle in one sitting anyway. She was really, really worked up. Eventually she ate the quarter-waffle in the same way she ate the four quarters before it: by dipping it quietly into the syrup on the corner of her plate and enjoying every last bite. She apologized for yelling, she said she didn't know why she was crying, and I felt like a huge jerk. 

I know as a parent I need to hold my ground when I am convinced I'm doing the right thing, but what's a food addict to do when food becomes the ground over which we're battling?

Day 0: Commit.

I've been doing some thinking, about what a heap of garbage 2014 was, and how high my hopes are for 2015. This year, as I combed through our address book to make out Christmas cards, I was profoundly depressed by how many names belonged to the recently deceased. So many loved ones left our world too soon, and it's something that's been weighing on me pretty heavily. I've been thinking about my two sweet girls and any future children we may have, and how I want to be around to see all their big milestones, and how I want to be able to participate actively in their lives, now and 50 years from now. My high hopes are unlikely to be realized by my sitting around eating chips and sea salt caramels every day.  So, I decided it's time for some changes. 

First, food. It's no secret I've always had an unhealthy relationship with food, from even before the first time I finished an entire box of bacon crackers in one sitting as a pre-teen, or my first pint of One Sweet Whirled ice cream as a college student. It's no coincidence that this year's Thanksgiving pecan pie disappeared slice by slice while no one else was in the kitchen. And the Christmas one too. 

My husband was telling me the other day how, to make a change in your life, you should stop blaming the past and just make the change. As if it's that easy. You don't beat down a lifetime of habits and compulsions and unhealthy obsessions just because you decide to. It's just. Not. That. Easy. 

But, I guess it has to be. Because if I don't commit, I'll be destined to repeat these same negative patterns that got me into this unhealthy place. 

It was overwhelming to change everything about my diet at once, so I started with the hardest thing and the one that I think will make the most difference: SUGAR. Even writing this is hard, such is my love for the powdery white substance that, on some days, has made up over half my calories. I created a rule for myself: one or two small treats each day is enough. That may seem really boring and like not that big of a deal, but for a food addict like me, it's terrifying. I've always had this inexplicable compulsion to "get it or someone else will." I have to try one of every dessert at a catered event. I have to go back for a second, a third, a fourth brownie because they were JUST SO GOOD. I would pace an endless circuit of couch - pantry - fridge - repeat, going back for another taste of the sweet du jour sometimes after less than a minute, long after I knew I should have stopped.  One treat begets another and another, and altogether they do little for me apart from engendering a feeling of immediate guilt and a crash 20 minutes later. 

So, one small treat at lunchtime if I feel like it. One after dinner. No exceptions. Not even for my favorite, favorite, favorite, ooey gooey chocolate brownie sundae dessert. 

Apart from that, it's time to start paying attention to those pesky portion sizes. Eating out of the chip bag, or the peanut canister, or the ice cream carton, has been my MO for the last 25 years of my life. I know better, but I get lazy or start thinking I can eyeball servings. And that is always the beginning of the end for monitoring my intake. I want my kids to have a healthy relationship with food and know what is going in their bodies.  It is time to lead by example and stop that nonsense. 

Next, exercise. I have been living in a "my kids won't let me leave them anywhere" jail cell for a long time. Now that my schedule has some more flexibility, I have committed to work with a personal trainer twice a week for the next six months. I have been afraid to do much on my own because I don't want to aggravate past injuries, but I'm confident now that I've found someone who will teach me how to work within my ability and hopefully get back into triathlon shape one day. 

And, finally, I've started practicing an overarching theme of consciousness. Dropping habits, because those are mindless, and really thinking about what I'm doing. Not checking my email every 35 seconds. Or Facebook. Or blog hits. Not picking up my phone at stop lights. Not finishing just one text before playing with my kids because, contrary to what I seem to believe, the world will not explode if Jen or Jon or Melissa don't know what I need to say right this second. I'm trying to check out my reflex reactions to situations by asking myself, "What's up with that?" "Why does that make me feel this way?" "How will thinking about this (or dwelling on it) help me?" In sum, I am trying to be more aware of who I am and what I am doing in this world. Enjoying the moment I'm in because I don't ever know if I'll have another. Embracing the frustrations life brings, as learning opportunities rather than obstacles and annoyances. 

Welcome to my journey. I invite you to take it with me.