it's like there's this space between us, and it's filled with the things we don't say

I had my final evaluation session with the personal trainer today, since I declined any further sessions. Man, was that painful. The upshot is that in the 6 weeks of sessions, I've lost 3 lbs and 7 inches. Just think what I could have done if I had gotten my food under control during that time, eh?

She kept asking what she could do to help me, and I didn't have an answer for her. I don't want her to do anything. Getting into an ongoing weight-loss relationship with her would only remind me of how much I wasted those 6 weeks, and how I grew to resent her even though things started out so well.

I'm frustrated. This is the way it's been every time I've hired a trainer. The training part goes great, but then I eat more than I know I should and see virtually no progress. I thought that this time might be different, because I felt different about it...at first. But then I didn't lose as much weight in the beginning as I hoped I would, and it started to become such a chore to drive (the half-mile) over there. Every time we took measurements, I knew she was disappointed in my progress, and the more she mentioned it the more defensive I felt. I gave short answers, dodged the subject, admitted I wasn't doing well but refused to give details or suggestions on how she could help. If she persisted, I got hostile and shut down entirely. As I've gotten further out of control with my diet, I've started to treat it like a dirty little secret. Which, I guess, is exactly what I've made it.

This is the point in the post where I would usually make some overblown pronouncement that it all ends now, I'm eating clean from now on, I'm going to throw out all the junk food and start fresh, blah-blah, etc. Except that I can't seem to do it this time. I mean, it's never worked, right? I stay on track for a couple days, screw up, give up. Lather, rinse, repeat. So, no grand plans, no challenges, no long-term anythings. I'm tired of doing things that don't work.

Now, if only I could figure out something that will work. Until then, though, I'm just going to concentrate on my goal for the next hour--staying away from the vending machine.

plucking the low-hanging fruit

We made it back from our Wisconsin vacation in one piece (or 3 pieces? Seven, if I count luggage), though a bit later than we expected. Our 5 pm flight was cancelled, so we didn't get out of Minneapolis until 7:30. It wasn't bad, but I wish we had called to make sure the flight was on time before we left the hometown. We could have spent those two hours visiting instead of in the airport. Though Rob was sick and Noah fell off a 4-wheeler and sprained his wrist, we all had a decent time. We managed to divide our time well between the people we like and the ones we have to see, spending more time with the former and very little with the latter. My littlest brother is walking now, and as adorable as ever. We rode part of the bike trail with my aunt and cousins, and saw the town fireworks in the same park that I watched them every 4th of July for the first 23 years of my life. It was a really good trip, and just long enough.

On the plane ride home, inspired by my vacation indulgence, I finished that Portion Teller book I was reading in Boston. It's probably the most sensible diet book I've read. Nothing really new about it--just another book about losing weight gradually by eating a smaller, balanced diet. It does offer some good tools for portion estimation and a way to ease into a new way of eating. There's no calorie counting, no banned foods, just controlled portion sizes and balance. The thing I liked about the book, I think, was the easy tone of it. It didn't have the infomercial feel of other diet books I've read, like the author was working to sell me something. It sort of felt like a 300-page meeting with a friendly dietician. The more I read, the more I thought, "I can totally handle this."

So, I'm going to give it a shot. This week, I start keeping a "Portion Teller Diary" (though I'm not going to call it that, because the title kind of bugs me). For the first few weeks, I won't make deliberate changes to my diet, I'll just write everything down to get an idea of which food groups I favor at which times and what changes would be the easiest to make. Once I have an idea of my eating "personality", then I can tailor the program to suit how I eat, while working within the recommended daily servings of the various food groups. Since I'm horribly impatient and I've been doing the weight loss thing forever already, this observation phase will probably only last a couple days. I don't expect there will be very many new discoveries, anyway. (I eat too many grains? The heck you say!)

I've also decided that while I'm getting my eating in order, it would also be a good time to get the house in order. We desperately need to get rid of a lot of clutter, and I've been putting it off for years. YEARS. The main reason I'm so disorganized is that I get overwhelmed by the Big Picture. So much needs to be done in order to get the house the way I want it, I end up not doing anything at all. Then before I know it, the magazines pile up and the DVD cabinet overflows, I can't find my shoes or my keys and we have 3 sofas (3! Sofas!) in the garage that aren't worth giving away but the regular trash pickup won't take, so there's nowhere to put our 5 bikes, spare washer and dryer, broken lawnmowers, and the boxes of clothes we're never going to wear again, and how did we ever accumulate this many books?! AAAAAAAARGH! Enough! Turn on Entourage and pass me the Cheetos.

Deciding to take baby steps in improving the way I eat has inspired me to take baby steps in clearing out the clutter also. Today, I booked a pickup appointment with 1-800-GOT-JUNK for next Saturday. Over the next 8 days, I will be concentrating on moving all large clutter out to the garage with the sofas. After gutting the two spare bedrooms (which cannot be slept in because of all the junk), I'm going to tackle the kitchen cabinets and drawers. Any appliance we have not used in the past 6 months is gone. Any book we are not going to read again--gone. Any book we'll never read? Also gone. All our VHS movies? Done. Old magazines? Buh-bye. Remember that falling-apart bookshelf in the front room? The extra computer desk in Junkroom #1? The RonCo food dehydrator that we never used, not even once? The clutter-catcher table in the kitchen, the top of which not seen daylight since the turn of the century? Gone, see ya, bye.

I'm not expecting our home to be a showpiece...I just want to get it to a point where everything has a purpose and a place. Where it looks like adults live there and I can find a damned skillet without causing a pot-alanche. I know it can't happen overnight, or even in 8 days. But this is somewhere to start.

"The race is long...and in the end, it's only with yourself."**

I've had a vendor consultant working with me since yesterday, so I haven't had much time to slack off er, I mean post. But he's gone back to his hotel room now, and I've got about 10 minutes before I need to get back to creating a mind-numbing powerpoint presentation. (The creation process is what's mind-numbing, not the presentation itself. Though I guess it depends on if you're at all interested in server technology, which I kind of am, at least as far as it applies to my job. But whatever...I still hate powerpoint.)

Anyway, I was thinking in the car today, after the Starbucks girl (I wish I could remember her name...she knows mine, after all) commented on my weight, about my reaction to it. I mean, I was gracious about it, but I still downplayed it because I felt like I hadn't done much since she'd known me. I've only been going to that Starbucks regularly since last summer, and I actually weighed less then than I do now.

Even as she was asking me if I had lost weight, the self-defeating crap was running through my head--"it must be the vertical stripes, maybe this shirt isn't too tight after all--OMG, the button's straining over the bust again, scrunch shoulders, stat! I've only lost 3 lbs this year, what do I say, no? Yes? Say something, Joy, you're grinning like an idiot..."

I settled on stammering, "a little bit." Which was technically true, but later it felt like I was cheapening the compliment to say so. You know?

Anyway, this is what I was thinking on the way to work today, and then I got here and the consultant made a conversational comment about my coffee-water routine, the point of which was basically that I sure do drink a lot of water. I had mentioned my running yesterday when we were talking about his uncle the marathoner, so he asked if the water was related to the running.

I found myself launching into the whole weight loss spiel..."I've been trying to lose weight for 3 years, started at almost 220, things have slowed down lately..." Again with the minimization. He was nice about the weight loss, and said that I carried it well and he wouldn't have guessed, we talked about some other stuff (he was actually on a diet to gain weight for a while), and the conversation shifted back to work things.

My reaction to both these incidents still bothers me, for the same reason that my reaction to the more successful weight loss/fitness blogs bothers me. This is not a race, this is not a competition, there are no bookies in Vegas working out stakes on who will get to goal first. With the exception of family, a handful of kind strangers, and myself, no one cares when I get there. And there's no "last place" here, besides.

Why, then, do I feel the need to apologize about losing slowly? Why do I feel sort of awkward and inferior when I read about people who lose 50 lbs in 6 months, people who can stick to a plan, people who are strong, people who are diligent? People who are everything I am not? Because they're winning, that's why. Winning a race that they don't even know they're in.

All my life, I've wanted to be the best at something, and fallen shy of it. I'm the queen of the "honorable mention" award, ruler of the also-rans. I've always had a small group of friends, but I've never been anyone's best friend. In HS, I graduated second in the class. When I auditioned for plays, I was never cast in the lead. My credits are things like "Telephone girl" and "Dancer #3". I was good enough for a duet, but not a solo. I was a right-fielder in little league, a goalie in soccer, picked last for kickball, manager of the track team. Popular enough for class secretary, but not for class president. My whole life, I've been just good enough to be almost noticed. Just good enough to be forgotten.

So, what's that got to do with anything? It feeds an insanely competitive streak in me, even when my logical side tells me it's pointless. It's endless, and it's the same with everything.

It's not that I am not genuinely happy for the other people, the winners, because I am. It's just difficult to separate it from the jealousy, or from the guilt. "Good for you" and "why didn't I" are together in my head like peanut butter and chocolate in that old Reese's commercial--two great thoughts that taste great together. "Hey, your congratulations got in my self-loathing! Hey, your self-loathing got in my congratulations!"

I work on it though, beat it down as much as I can. Now, I've mostly progressed to the point where I don't feel like I have to win all the time. Mostly, I just don't want to come in last. However, the need to be better/faster/prettier/stronger/smarter/first is still there, and every once in a while feelings of inadequacy catch up with me same as they do with everyone, I'm sure. We all have our demons, after all, and this is a pretty common one.

The weird thing about all of this (besides, well, all of this), is that I like the pace I'm going with the weight loss. It's slow, and I'm never going to be a "results not typical" success story...because if the rest of my life is any indication, I think my results probably ARE typical. That said, I've been frustrated, I've taken breaks, I've made mistakes, I've tried a lot of things...but I've never given up, and I think that's something. I know that in the long run, I'm going to be more satisfied to lose 80 lbs in 5 years (or 10!) and keep it off than I would if I had dropped all of them the first year and then gained everything back with interest. Would I have been happier if I had reached goal by my 30th birthday? Sure. Does it do any good to mourn over my failure to do it? No.

Try as I might, though, it's still hard to convince the perpetual also-ran in me that there's no one but me even in this race. Finishing is winning.

**Wear Sunscreen (right-click, save-as MP3 link removed...)

anticipay-ay-tion

I weigh in tomorrow, my first official weigh in since the beginning of August. I know it's going to be good, since I've had a handful of unofficial weigh-ins in the past couple weeks....I may even break into virgin territory, actually.

But I'm nervous, and I have been for 3 days. I last weighed myself on Friday, and the scale was very kind. Then I biked 42 miles on Saturday morning, and had a few fairly-decent food days after that. So there's absolutely no reason that I shouldn't be down even further since Friday, and yet I worry. What if I'm still retaining water from the ride? What if that number is UP since Friday? Sure, it's still down considerably from the beginning of the Bahama Mama challenge, but I want it to be a new number. And I want to officially earn that iPod that I've been using for two months. Though I've seen the magical 176 several times off and on, it's never been on a true weigh-in day. I saw it on Friday, in fact. I want to see less than that tomorrow morning--I want it so badly that I'm practically making myself sick over it. And Rob has thus far been impervious to my begging to unhide it early, so for 3 days now I have had no way of knowing what I weigh. Since I saw it falling so fast right before he re-hid the scale, I'm absolutely dying to know. But I asked him to hide it, and he's sticking to his word. That bastard. :)

Anyway, it's been a while since I posted an update around here, so here's what's going on with me. The ride I did on Saturday was for Ft. Bend County literacy council, or something. It was okay...the course wasn't that great, with lots of bumpy small-town roads in the first (and last) couple miles. I got a little confused by the signs toward the end, and actually rode a little further than the course, since I had to turn around. The rest stops were oddly spaced, though I know why they did it that way. The second stop was at the place where the 25-milers and the 40/60-milers diverged, which made sense from a coordination standpoint. However, it was only 6 miles from the first stop, which was a little disconcerting. I really should have skipped that one, but I wasn't sure when the next one was coming. As it was, I ended up skipping the last rest stop--not because I didn't need it, but because they set it up on the opposite side of a 4-lane highway with no traffic control at the intersection. By the time I even realized where it was, I had already passed it.

Other than the bumpy roads at the beginning and end, the course was decent. Mostly flat, so it was easy to get a good pace going and stick with it. The hardest miles for me were 20-30 and 38-42. Between 20 and 30, I was running out of energy and I hadn't hit my second wind. My pace slowed from about 15-16mph to 12-13mph with the same amount of exertion. I caught a second wind (and better roads) somewhere in the early 30s, and was able to pick things up. I think by mile 38 I was a little dehydrated, and I know my legs were threatening to cramp pretty much constantly by mile 40. I finished in about 3 1/2 hours, after you deduct the rest stop time. And I didn't sleep all day afterward like I did with every other long ride I've ever done. So that's progress. :)

Other than the ride and the TOM and the hope for a loss, not much going on. Just the same old stuff, and I'm having a good WW week. And try as I might, I do not have a neat ending for this post. So whatever.

root causes

My weight has been bugging me the last few days.

Don't get me wrong--the scale has been kind. I had 179 on Thursday, 179.5 this morning. The problem I have is that I want to find out what's causing my Wednesday weigh-ins to be high. I mean, there's no way that I really dropped 2 lbs overnight, so there's got to be something that I'm doing wrong on Monday or Tuesday that's causing the scale to stick on 181 on Wednesdays.

I've been mulling it over since yesterday morning, and I think I've got it narrowed down to two possibilities:

1. The sculpting class on Tuesday. I'm usually sore the day after, and it makes sense that my muscles would retain water after strength training. Evidence: I did the class last night also, and gained a 1/2 lb. today.

2. Eating after 7 pm the night before. I generally weigh between 6 and 8 am (maybe several times depending on how the number agrees with me). If I eat dinner at 8 pm the night before, that's (at most) 12 hours for the food to be processed. Maybe that's not enough time. Not to mention that dinner is a pretty big meal for me, and I probably shouldn't be immediately following it up with 6-8 hours of sleep. Evidence: I ate at 8:15 last night, and woke up half a lb. heavier today than yesterday.

My methods are highly unscientific, but my research leans toward one of these two things. Since I don't want to give up the sculpting class, I'm going to start eating dinner earlier on Tuesdays. In all honesty, I think that is the more likely culprit anyway.

one house, good friends, and the balance of life

Well, we're down to one house now. The movers came and took all well, most of my stuff out of the westside house on Saturday. Then I spent the day arranging and merging our two sets of furniture, and watching the kids at the northside house while Rob, Kat, Dale, and Tina did repairs on the other one. I fully intended to go over there and help after the movers were done moving my stuff in, but Rob and Dale decided that it would be better to have the kids (their two, our one) entertained and out of the way than it would be to have an extra pair of hands over there. So I stayed where I was, and totally felt like a slacker for doing so. After all, it was MY house they were going to work on. And Kat's the only one of them that actually lives (or has ever lived) there.

By the time they were done, the flowerbeds were cut back to non-jungle proportions and remulched (Tina), the rotted facia board was replaced (Dale), the tub was repaired (Dale & Rob), the house was cleaned (Kat), and Kat's furniture was moved in. While they were doing that, I rearranged furniture at the other house, corralled children and cats, unpacked some boxes, did a couple loads of laundry, took the kids to McDonalds, and let Rob walk me through putting in a trouble ticket with AT&T for his job since he didn't have access to a computer from there. I think I got the better end of the deal. I also think that when it comes to good friends, we hit the lottery.

So anyway, I pretty much abandoned my food log somewhere about the middle of Wednesday this week. I've eaten considerably more than 19 points, and the scale is showing it. I've buckled down today, though, and I plan to work out in the afternoon also (my first workout this week, sadly). Hopefully 3 24-point days will be enough to bring me back down to a maintain...maybe even a loss.

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

Almost invariably, I follow a good week with an industrial-strength bad one. A part of me thinks that maybe I'm afraid to succeed. It's been 11 years since I was happy with my body, and at that time I was struggling with everything else. I didn't know who I was, or what I wanted to do. I was hanging out with kids 2-3 years younger than me, having an on-again, off-again "relationship" with a guy that I knew didn't give one tin shit about me. I tried to tell myself that I didn't care that he didn't care, because I didn't care about him either. It was an arrangement of mutual convenience--a girl has needs, after all. And then I got pregnant and, well, all my illusions were exposed for what they were. I still didn't want a real relationship with him, but I at least wanted him to care. He didn't.

And it was more than just him. I was failing out of college because I was bored. I felt trapped by my 4-year scholarship (I know, waaah, poor little rich girl), because I didn't want to go to that school anymore but couldn't really afford to go somewhere else. I spent more time writing angsty poetry in the coffee shop than I did in class. In that sense and many others, my pregnancy saved me. It was a way to get out and still save face. Dropping out because I was pregnant gave me an acceptable excuse, even noble. Sure, I had made an embarrassing mistake, but I was taking responsibility for it. I was dropping out to work more, so that I could support my baby. Of course it wasn't because I was a procrastinating slacker who hated school and was too scared to step out of the familiar and make things better, and never mind that I only upped my working hours by 10-12 per week anyway.

Three years, 3 majors, 2 schools, 2 jobs, and one degree later, my life was back on track and I had grown up a lot. I had moved to Texas, I was employed full-time, I had an apartment, a healthy kid, and a life. I also had 40 extra pounds, and that number was climbing. I felt successful and I was happy with how everything had turned out, but I was fat, and getting fatter every day.

So, to sum up...the last time I was thin, my life was a mess, my self-esteem was in the toilet, and just about the only thing I liked about my life was my body. Now, my life is stable, I'm reasonably confident, and just about the only thing I don't like about my life is my body. Could it be that, on some subconscious level, I'm afraid to mess with that balance?

Or it could just be that I'm on the low end of a decade (is that the right word?), and my progress always stalls there. It happened in the low 200s, it happened in the low 190s, and now it's happening in the low 180s. Maybe fear of the unknown is why it's happening every time, or maybe it's just chemistry. Who really knows, eh?

ahem

definitely not dead, thanks for asking.

There are several reasons for my absence, the biggest one being that up until Monday morning, I was looking at a whopping 6 lb. gain this week. I mean, I can tell myself that it's not real all I want, but that doesn't keep my heart from sinking when I see that 188 staring back at me. I'm just saying.

I'm also in a training class this week offsite, which only gives me internet access on breaks. To my own surprise, I've found that I don't even want to touch the computer on breaks. I brought, like, 10 books and two magazines with me in my bag, so there's enough to do. It also doesn't hurt that the training building is adjacent to the Galleria, and that's some serious shopping territory there. (Though today I felt unfit for the Galleria crowd...most the regular shoppers are seriously out of my league. I'm on more of an Old Navy kind of budget right now). So yeah, haven't been getting on the computer much.

In fact, I've been wondering lately whether I want to keep doing this at all. The web thing, I mean, not the fitness thing. For a couple years now, I've immersed myself in the blogosphere, and the fascination is sort of wearing off for me. In a lot of ways, it's a good thing. I'm more interested in other, more important things--Noah, Rob, reading good books, my career, church, what I want out of life.

This blog and the others aren't really getting me anywhere. Not that I started them expecting to go anywhere, but I did start them because it was fun to write every day. Now it's not really fun anymore, because I don't know how to get back to that place where I was good at it. Let's face it--I haven't been writing anything remarkable for a long time now. Months. Maybe a year or more. I have to face the facts--all my blogs except this one have outlived their usefulness, and it's time to file the database backups and delete them from movable type. But not this one.

Why not this one? Because one of the biggest reasons I've done as well as I have on my weight-loss program (the last few weeks notwithstanding) is that this site gave me someone to be accountable to. Paper journalling wouldn't have given me that, and won't if I choose to shut down this site. Sure, I don't really know anyone that reads here, but some of the comments (nice and not so nice) keep me motivated in a way that I can't do by myself. So this one's going to be around for at least a little while longer. It might just be weigh-in updates, but it will be here.

Not sure why I even posted that, but there it is.

Sweet Jesus, I'm going to be a bride

We had our ceremony meeting with our pastor and his wife tonight. Before the meeting, I was only slightly nervous about getting married...now I'm absolutely terrified.

So what was it that set me off? The lifelong commitment? The half a dozen things left to do before the big day? The money? Nope...it was one phrase in one sentence in an offhand part of the conversation:

"...and then everyone will stand up and turn around to watch the bride..."

HOLY SHIT. I almost passed out right there at the Starbucks. How did I not remember that part? Did I block it out? Repress it? How could I not remember that for the entire time I'm walking down that aisle, every eye in the place is going to be on me? And that they're all going to be standing up like I'm the f---ing queen of the world? And that they're going to continue to watch Robert and me throughout the entire 20-minute ceremony. Watching me. Every move I make. If I scratch my nose, 86 people will see me do it.

I've heard that phrase "it's all about the bride" about 10,000 times in the past 9 months, and I've even said it jokingly a few times. But it wasn't until about an hour and a half ago that it fully registered that I am the bride in this scenario.

I may be overreacting just a little bit...but I've never been good with being the center of attention. Trusted relatives tell me that I cried at my third birthday party because everyone was looking at me when I blew out the candles. When I gave my speech at HS graduation (salutatorian), I had the entire thing written on three index cards and read it word for word. There was a scary moment where I lost my place and had to wing it a little. It took me an hour and a half to quit shaking after that. Hell, if I thought this site had more than 6-7 readers, I'd probably shut it down because the pressure to say something worthwhile would be too much to bear. And now I'm going to try to be a bride?

What was I thinking?!

Sweet Jesus, I'm going to be a bride

We had our ceremony meeting with our pastor and his wife tonight. Before the meeting, I was only slightly nervous about getting married...now I'm absolutely terrified.

So what was it that set me off? The lifelong commitment? The half a dozen things left to do before the big day? The money? Nope...it was one phrase in one sentence in an offhand part of the conversation:

"...and then everyone will stand up and turn around to watch the bride..."

HOLY SHIT. I almost passed out right there at the Starbucks. How did I not remember that part? Did I block it out? Repress it? How could I not remember that for the entire time I'm walking down that aisle, every eye in the place is going to be on me? And that they're all going to be standing up like I'm the f---ing queen of the world? And that they're going to continue to watch Robert and me throughout the entire 20-minute ceremony. Watching me. Every move I make. If I scratch my nose, 86 people will see me do it.

I've heard that phrase "it's all about the bride" about 10,000 times in the past 9 months, and I've even said it jokingly a few times. But it wasn't until about an hour and a half ago that it fully registered that I am the bride in this scenario.

I may be overreacting just a little bit...but I've never been good with being the center of attention. Trusted relatives tell me that I cried at my third birthday party because everyone was looking at me when I blew out the candles. When I gave my speech at HS graduation (salutatorian), I had the entire thing written on three index cards and read it word for word. There was a scary moment where I lost my place and had to wing it a little. It took me an hour and a half to quit shaking after that. Hell, if I thought this site had more than 6-7 readers, I'd probably shut it down because the pressure to say something worthwhile would be too much to bear. And now I'm going to try to be a bride?

What was I thinking?!

perspective

The other day (Wednesday, I think), I woke up, got dressed, and I happened to catch a glimpse of my full-length self in the mirror as I was leaving the bathroom. I stopped and studied my reflection for a second. Maybe it was the pants that actually fit, maybe it was the line of the sweater...but there was no doubt about it. I was having a skinny day. I walked out into the kitchen.

"Rob, do I look smaller to you today?"

I admit, this is a mean question to ask. If he doesn't think so, then there's no right answer. If he says yes, he's lying. If he says no, he risks hurting my feelings. Lose-lose. He looked me over and gave his assessment.

"I've been noticing it for a while, but yeah, you do look smaller today."

Good answer. :)

That whole day, I felt almost thin, and I took full advantage of that feeling. I left my cave office more than usual. I stopped to talk to people. I was more confident, and didn't worry about finding a dark corner of the locker room to change in when I went to work out.

This morning I didn't feel big or small, even though the scale told me that I was a pound heavier today than I was yesterday. It didn't get me down, because I knew that the gain was a side effect of the pizza and possibly the late workout yesterday. I was puzzled, though, because my clothes didn't fit any differently. My ring didn't stick when I took it off. Where was that weight?

As I was changing for the aerobics class this afternoon, I bent over to tie my shoes. Holy crap! I wished I had a tape measure, because it looked like my calves swelled four inches overnight. They looked the size of cabers (cabels? Those things that the guys throw in that one Scottish competition), I swear. I looked around to ask someone if my calves looked big to them, but then it occurred to me that no one in the room really cared about the state of my body--they were here to work on their own. I headed up the stairs to the workout room, hoping no one noticed the girl with the freakishly-huge legs. Through the whole class, I kept glancing at my legs and wishing I had brought long pants.

I've been thinking about it since then...all through lunch, and I still can't get it out of my head. It's funny how perspective changes. I'm exactly the same weight today as I was Wednesday, but my perception of that weight is totally different. And I'll bet if I asked a casual acquaintance, they wouldn't be able to see the difference in my size. So am I really any bigger today than I was Wednesday?

I think back to when I was 130-135 lbs. in high school. I thought I was huge then, too. Nothing fit right, my hips were gigantic, those "loose fit" jeans were tight on my gargantuan thighs. I was this chunky, disgusting pig and no one would ever love me. Now, I look at pictures of myself then and just want to travel back in time and tell my 15-year-old self that it was okay not to be a size 6. (But work on that hair, wouldja? That haircut is tragic, even for 1989. Those bangs!)

Then, I think back to the last time I was ever happy with my body. Middle of my 2nd year of college, I weighed 140 lbs--at least 5 lbs heavier than when I thought I was revoltingly huge. I know this, because I got pregnant about a month or so later, gained 28 lbs, and ended up at 168 in 9 months. (Figures, doesn't it?) My body, and my image of it, hasn't really recovered since.

I say that my goal in this journey is 135 lbs., but I've come to realize that's not really true. My true goal is that feeling of finally being satisfied with my body. Being able to look at myself in the mirror every day, and feel content with what I see. Ten years ago, that happened at 140 lbs. Who knows what the magic number will be this time? Or if it even exists at all?

perspective

The other day (Wednesday, I think), I woke up, got dressed, and I happened to catch a glimpse of my full-length self in the mirror as I was leaving the bathroom. I stopped and studied my reflection for a second. Maybe it was the pants that actually fit, maybe it was the line of the sweater...but there was no doubt about it. I was having a skinny day. I walked out into the kitchen.

"Rob, do I look smaller to you today?"

I admit, this is a mean question to ask. If he doesn't think so, then there's no right answer. If he says yes, he's lying. If he says no, he risks hurting my feelings. Lose-lose. He looked me over and gave his assessment.

"I've been noticing it for a while, but yeah, you do look smaller today."

Good answer. :)

That whole day, I felt almost thin, and I took full advantage of that feeling. I left my cave office more than usual. I stopped to talk to people. I was more confident, and didn't worry about finding a dark corner of the locker room to change in when I went to work out.

This morning I didn't feel big or small, even though the scale told me that I was a pound heavier today than I was yesterday. It didn't get me down, because I knew that the gain was a side effect of the pizza and possibly the late workout yesterday. I was puzzled, though, because my clothes didn't fit any differently. My ring didn't stick when I took it off. Where was that weight?

As I was changing for the aerobics class this afternoon, I bent over to tie my shoes. Holy crap! I wished I had a tape measure, because it looked like my calves swelled four inches overnight. They looked the size of cabers (cabels? Those things that the guys throw in that one Scottish competition), I swear. I looked around to ask someone if my calves looked big to them, but then it occurred to me that no one in the room really cared about the state of my body--they were here to work on their own. I headed up the stairs to the workout room, hoping no one noticed the girl with the freakishly-huge legs. Through the whole class, I kept glancing at my legs and wishing I had brought long pants.

I've been thinking about it since then...all through lunch, and I still can't get it out of my head. It's funny how perspective changes. I'm exactly the same weight today as I was Wednesday, but my perception of that weight is totally different. And I'll bet if I asked a casual acquaintance, they wouldn't be able to see the difference in my size. So am I really any bigger today than I was Wednesday?

I think back to when I was 130-135 lbs. in high school. I thought I was huge then, too. Nothing fit right, my hips were gigantic, those "loose fit" jeans were tight on my gargantuan thighs. I was this chunky, disgusting pig and no one would ever love me. Now, I look at pictures of myself then and just want to travel back in time and tell my 15-year-old self that it was okay not to be a size 6. (But work on that hair, wouldja? That haircut is tragic, even for 1989. Those bangs!)

Then, I think back to the last time I was ever happy with my body. Middle of my 2nd year of college, I weighed 140 lbs--at least 5 lbs heavier than when I thought I was revoltingly huge. I know this, because I got pregnant about a month or so later, gained 28 lbs, and ended up at 168 in 9 months. (Figures, doesn't it?) My body, and my image of it, hasn't really recovered since.

I say that my goal in this journey is 135 lbs., but I've come to realize that's not really true. My true goal is that feeling of finally being satisfied with my body. Being able to look at myself in the mirror every day, and feel content with what I see. Ten years ago, that happened at 140 lbs. Who knows what the magic number will be this time? Or if it even exists at all?

27 lbs.

2003 was a pretty good year for us. I lost some weight, we got engaged, we found a new church, Kat moved here. No one we loved died or had a major life crisis. We got to spend Christmas in WI. Did I mention I lost some weight?

When I look back at what I've accomplished this year fitness-wise, I have mixed feelings. When we started this blog on my 29th birthday (January 8, 2003), I had all kinds of high expectations. I was going to lose 2 lbs/week! I'd be at goal by my 30th birthday! Now my 30th birthday looms less than a week away, and I've fallen far short of what I expected. Nearly a year later, I'm 55 lbs. from goal.

Then again, my starting weight was over 80 lbs. from goal. As of this morning, I've lost 27 lbs. 27 lbs in a year isn't stellar, but it doesn't suck either.

There are also the non-scale victories. I've dropped nearly 2 sizes. My stamina is way up. I'm much more confident than I used to be. I no longer hate how I look in pictures. I've biked two organized rides this year...one for 28 miles, and one for 40. I thoroughly enjoyed both of them. I got 31 fitness points at work this quarter...five short of the number needed for the fitness incentives, but 31 more than I had in any of the previous 9 quarters of my employment with this company. I eat a lot more vegetables. I eat a lot less ice cream and pizza. I'm satisfied with much smaller portions. I've grown more conscious of how my body works in the last year than I've ever been in my life.

I may only have lost 27 lbs in a year, but those were an important 27 lbs. They taught me that I don't have any glandular problem--I have a food problem. They taught me the difference between a reasonable portion and an insanely huge portion. They taught me that french fries are hardly ever worth it, but sometimes chocolate is. They taught me to know my body, and to love it again.

Will I love it more when the other 55 lbs are gone? Absolutely.

With that in mind, here are the requisite goals for 2004:

1. Lose another 20 lbs by the wedding (Which, incidentally, is ONLY 13 WEEKS AWAY!!).

2. Reach goal (55 lbs more) who am I kidding? Lose 35 lbs. by the end of the year, unless I'm pregnant by then.

3. Get the fitness incentives at work every quarter.

4. Participate in the Space Race (28 mile) in the spring and the Bike for Sight ride (40 miles) in the fall.

5. Eat healthy 95% of the time.

6. Make 2004 better than 2003...and 2003 was a pretty damn good year.

what do I REALLY think...

followed this link from skinnykat's place...it's a study of what people really think of obesity.

This is what the study came up with for me:

"Your data suggest a moderate automatic preference for THIN PEOPLE relative to FAT PEOPLE

Your data suggest little or no association between motivation and FAT PEOPLE relative to THIN PEOPLE "

That sounds about right. I will say that I had to concentrate a LOT harder to get the answers right when fat was on the same side as the positive traits (you'll understand if you take the test). I'm not sure I like what that says about me.

forever = 1 day

Okay, so maybe I was being a bit hasty, saying that I left the 190s forever. Due to the pretzel incident yesterday afternoon and other factors, I am back up to 190.5 today. At least I know it's not fat.

I feel like I've been awake for about a year. I got up at the ungodly hour of 4:30 am to do a work thing, and then I came home about 6 and biked for an hour. Then there was breakfast, and getting Noah dispatched to school, and shower, and the donning of the clothes. Then I went to work, showing up my customary 14 minutes late. It's 10:30 and I feel like I've already put in a full day.

I was thinking as I got dressed this morning about how my outlook has changed in the last 8 months. Or, more specifically, the last 36 1/2 weeks. Just by the numbers, I'm 29 lbs. lighter than I was then. That's a great thing on its own, but the side effects have been even better.

I am wearing clothes today that I never would have even considered buying back in January. I mean, the shirt is tucked in, fer pete's sake. I'm much more confident in my own skin than I was then. I'm more likely to speak up, more likely to try new things, more likely to take up for myself, and meeting new people is much less scary than it used to be. I also feel much more feminine (I actually considered wearing makeup and jewelry to work today), and I'm infinitely happier. I'm not really sure whether it's more the weight loss, the engagement, the new church, or the birth control pills. I suspect that it's a combination of all of those things. For the first time in a long time, I like who I am.

Even if I am two and a half pounds heavier today than I was yesterday.

I can relate

Mo at Mr. Ointy wrote a post yesterday that I can't get out of my head (I can't seem to figure out her permalinks, so click "Mr. Ointy" and look for the last 9/11 entry...the one about doctors).

From the time Noah was born until around Christmastime of last year, I was in serious denial about my weight problem. Well, not really so much my weight problem, but my food problem. I never wanted to admit that I just ate too much. I'd blame it on anything else...I work at a pizza place, Noah keeps me too busy to exercise, I waitress so I don't need to exercise anyway, my metabolism changed after the baby...on and on. After I graduated and moved to Texas, the excuses changed, and the pounds piled on faster than ever--I had more money so I could eat more often, I was more sedentary, Texans know food, I'm already dating someone so I don't have to look beautiful, etc., etc. I gained 30 lbs. between June of 1998 and July of 2000. Sometime in there, I also stopped having periods and began my rounds of gynecologists.

I had never had HMO medical insurance before, so this whole notion of primary care physicians and whatnot was foreign to me. I also was very shy about my ever-growing body, and didn't know what to say or how to explain my problem. For a while, I never knew whether or not I could be pregnant either. I didn't really know anyone but Rob in Houston, so I just closed my eyes and pointed into the provider directory when I wanted to find a doctor. The first one was a glorified nurse's aide. Didn't examine me at all, just diagnosed "amennorhea" and sent me for an MRI. I didn't like her, so I didn't bother to go back. For 2 years. By this time, I had moved, and went to another doctor closer to my house. This was the guy that Mo's post reminded me of.

By the time July of 2000 rolled around, I weighed about 200 lbs. I had tried a personal trainer for a while, with almost no results (because I was eating too much). I had just lost a job, and with it my health insurance. I went to him for a UTI (I was prone to them that year, for some reason), and for my lack of periods. I picked him out of the directory because he was 2 miles from my house. I verified how much everything would cost, and decided that the antibiotics for the infection were worth it. And if I went to a gynecologist instead of a general practice doctor, I could kill two birds with one stone.

So off I go to the doctor. He was the most condescending son of a bitch I have ever met. Talked to me like I was a child, made all kinds of assumptions about my weight (doesn't eat vegetables, doesn't know about nutrition, etc). At one point, he said something like "People at a normal weight can eat potatoes and rice, but Joy can't eat those things." Who talks to another adult like that? I wanted to say to him, "Look, man. I'm 26 years old and not retarded. You think you could pretend for a minute that you have any respect for me whatsoever?" He didn't see me as an equal coming to him for medical advice. He saw me as a clueless fat girl.

I left there with some diet guide that he had written himself (and apparently not edited for spelling and grammar, but I'm a stickler for that crap. My atrocious grammar on this site notwithstanding, of course), a prescription for antibiotics, and a burning hatred for this man.

I avoided doctors for nearly 3 years after that, despite the fact that I still wasn't having periods and I now had a job with benefits again. I gained another 20 lbs. by stubbornly refusing to do a single thing he proposed in his little diet pamplet. Besides, my weight gain wasn't because of how I was eating...it was because of *insert any of the above excuses here*.

One of the phrases in Mo's post that had me nodding was "We don't do it until we're ready. And how do we get ready? If only I knew for sure."

What was my turning point? Thinking back, I realize there were several. The first was hitting size 20 last November. The next was seeing the picture taken at my company Christmas party and thinking how huge I looked, then hearing everyone else say..."Oh, you look so good!" Meaning that, holy shit, I really do look like that! And finally, about a week before my 29th birthday, I read an article that said that obesity shortens your life by 7 years. That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel.

After I started to write down everything I ate, I started to realize how much I had been eating. Before January, I was eating over 3000 calories a day, easy. No wonder I was packing on the pounds. I look back on how I used to eat, and I can't believe I didn't see it. I had this humongous blind spot when it came to diet--My diet was FINE and I didn't want to hear anyone tell me otherwise. But once I came to that realization on my own, there I was slapping myself on the forehead and never turning back. But I had to come to that place on my own. How did I get there? Like Mo says, I wish I knew.

I'm much better now. I still eat the same foods I ate 3 years ago. I just don't eat them every day, or in mass quantities like I used to. I have come to terms with my food problem. I still get touchy when people tell me what I should and shouldn't eat, but I'm working on that. My inner 4-year-old is very, very strong, and it takes a bit of doing to get her to quit shouting "You're not the boss of me--I'll do what I want!". :)

Still, it pisses me off that even though that doctor in the summer of 2000 was totally right, he still set me back a year by treating me like a stupid fat girl. I was 15 lbs into this weight loss journey before I even considered going to a doctor again for my lack of periods. And what got me there? Reading a post from another journaller who had the same problem. She was going to a doctor, and reading her post about it gave me the courage and will to do it also. I researched, I asked women that I knew about their doctors, and found one that I really love. Even though I still felt like I had to justify my 204 lbs by saying "But I've already lost 15!", it didn't seem to matter to her. She treated me with respect from the start. Maybe she was the Fat Girl once too.

hope not

I don't know what it is today, but I'm just not feeling hungry at all. I was hungry at lunch, so I bought a salad. Then I was full after just a few bites, and it was making me nauseous. So I threw the rest away, and I've eaten a couple bite-size candies since. Still not hungry.

I hope I'm not coming down with something. I mean, puking my guts out would probably be good for weight loss, but no one wants to lose weight that way. Well, no one without a severe eating disorder, anyway. Which is no laughing matter.

Aaaanyway. I really don't have anything else to say, so go check out Kristi's new pictures. Doesn't she look great?

moodiness

I was reading Hope's entry today about how up-and-down her moods have been lately. I can really relate.

I've always known that I'm pretty up-and-down anyway, but posting to this journal every day has really brought it into sharp relief. I am one moody mama.

Reminds me of a book I read about a year ago (The Forest For the Trees, Betsy Lerner). I was fascinated by a chapter about different types of writers. I identified most with the group that I think she called the "ambivalent writers", though it's been long enough ago that I don't remember (I have the book at my house, I should really just go look it up before posting this). Basically, this type of writer goes through cycles, alternating between "I am great" and "I am shit". No middle ground there at all. One week, the writer will think that everything he writes is golden, only to read it back the next week and call himself a talentless hack. I go through that cycle...I eventually hate everything I've ever written (which is why I've never seriously thought about trying to do it professionally).

I've found the same is true for this whole weight loss journey of mine. I'll be rocking along for a while, taking setbacks in stride, staying optimistic...then wham! Everything sucks. I'm never going to stay on plan, never going to reach goal, so why don't I just go ahead and have a piece of cheesecake the size of my head? There's more middle ground with this than there is with writing, but the extremes are still there.

Man, I must be fun to live with. Sorry, Rob...hope you realize what you're getting into.

motives

why did I eat the candy bar? I wasn't hungry. I didn't really want it. I don't know what I'm doing.

all about perspective

As I was starting this entry, I was going to write about how, sure enough, I was back up to 192 today. And godDAMNit, why can't I get into the 180s.

And then I stopped to think about it, and decided that I need to quit my whining. Seriously. Let's think back to January. Or even April, for that matter. How elated would I have been to see 192 on the scale then? Or even 195? You would not be able to measure with existing technology. I would have been thrilled, totally off-the-charts ecstatic.

That was only 3 months ago. I was nearly 10 lbs. heavier then. And yet, here I sit, at 192, crying because I'm not at 190, or 189. I'm just never happy with where I am. At my current weight, I've consistently lost over 1 lb. a week. It's not remarkable, and it's not as fast as I'd like. But it is slow and steady, and it is life-changing. So you know what? Enough complaining.

For today anyway.

what size?

I've been wondering lately about sizes. Like, for instance, what size I'll be at goal.

It's been so long since I weighed 130 lbs...I only vaguely remember what it was like to be 19. I remember that my collarbones stood out, and that there was this one dress that actually made me look thin. (Of course, looking back at the pictures now, I realize that I was thin...I just wasn't a stick-girl like I thought I should be) I know I used to wear somewhere around an 9/10 when I was that size before...but I've had a kid since then. There are changes to my body that I won't be able to undo.

I'm also going to be much more fit this time around than I was. I've never been a very active person, and while I was at a good weight 10 years ago, it was a soft weight. What will my size be like with actual muscles under the skin? Bigger? Smaller? I wish I knew.

I've been trying to extrapolate it from size changes that have already occurred. When I was 217 (nude weight), I was a tight 18W, more comfortable 20W. Now I'm at 193, and I'm a loose 18 or 16W and a tight 16. So...in 24 lbs, I went down 2 sizes. That's down a size every 12 lbs. I have 63 lbs. left to go, divided by 12 is around 5 sizes. This would bring me down to a 6. I've never been a six, and I just don't think that's possible--my hips won't allow it. I can't even imagine myself as an 8.

I think I'm probably going to end up at right around 10, which is fine with me. If I can get my body toned and looking healthy, that's what I care about when it comes right down to it. Sometimes I just like to sit and wonder.

jitters

I leave to go to tonight's WW meeting in about 10 minutes. For some reason, I've got butterflies in my stomach. WTF? I've been dieting for over 5 months. It's not like this is my very first weigh-in or anything. It's not even a weigh-in after an atrociously bad week. It's just an ordinary weigh-in. Why am I so nervous about it?

I guess it's because I'm afraid I'll post a gain for the first time since I joined weight watchers. I didn't really gain any weight...it would all be time of day and clothing issues. Still, it's only been 5 days since my last weigh-in, my eating hasn't been exemplary this week, and I just drank a diet pepsi, so I just know I've got an extra 12 oz. in my system. I'm just not ready. My scale was kind to me this morning though, weighing in at 194.2...so who knows? I guess I'll just have to weight and see...(get it? "weight and see"? Yeah, it wasn't really that funny. Or at all.)

body image

According to my scale this morning, I am .2 lbs away from the 20-lb. milestone. That's amazing to me.

When I started this thing, I lost 10 lbs in 4 weeks, and I thought this was going to be a walk in the park. It didn't quite work out that way, but yet, here we are 13 weeks later, still losing and still as determined as ever. I've had some slips in motivation here and there, but overall I'm pleased with how things are going. And hey...20 lbs! Wow. My biggest cat weighs less than that (but not by much...they're part cougar, I think).

That said, I don't feel a whole lot smaller than I did. I mean, I'm still over 50 lbs. overweight, so I'm far from looking thin. It's weird how completely I've lied to myself about my body. I've been gradually growing bigger for the past 8 years, but in my head I'm always the same size I was when I left Wisconsin (about 175 lbs). I'm continually surprised when I see pictures of me now--do I really look like that? How long have I looked like that? Eventually, I just avoided taking pictures.

The smaller I get, the more horrified I am that I ever let myself get so big without being the least bit concerned. I think about how much easier this would be if I had just put my best effort into the personal trainers 3 years ago, when I was 205 lbs. I wouldn't have had to lose that extra 15. But like I've said before, I'm stubborn. No one was going to tell me I was too fat, or I was eating more than I should...I had to decide that on my own terms. I just wish I had done it earlier.

But, to get all Stuart Smalley on you, there I go shoulding all over myself. I started when I was ready, and four months later I'm almost a quarter of the way to goal. I've no doubt that soon the day will come when I'll look at a picture of myself and say, "yeah, that's how I look." instead of the current, "Good God, that's how I look?!"

the dangers of close enough

Staying on plan has been a struggle lately. I don't know what it is exactly...it's not like I'm any less dedicated than I was a month ago. I think the biggest thing is that I've gotten into into this "I'm ok, you're ok" mode, where as long as I try, I don't feel guilty. Then it descends into thinking about trying, and then I lose the motivation entirely.

To some degree, throwing up my hands and saying "Close enough!" is good. It keeps me from getting too hung up on numbers and percentages and getting down on myself for only burning 300 calories per workout instead of 500. It keeps me from getting depressed. However, lately I have found myself lowering the bar for "close enough". 32 points? Close enough. Walking up the stairs twice? Close enough. Thinking about working out? Close enough. Sigh. If I'm not careful, walking to the fridge for a glass of water will become my entire exercise regimen.

I've been trying to analyze where this lack of motivation is coming from. A lot of it probably has to do with the kinds of foods I've been eating lately. I've never been one to cut out any foods entirely, but lately I've been taking on more sugar and starch than I need to be. That could be making me tired.

Other factors contribute, too, I'm sure. The 7 hour nights' sleep I've been getting. The forgetting to drink a lot of water. The lack of regular exercise is also having something of a vicious circle effect--since I don't exercise, I feel lethargic, and since I'm lethargic, I don't want to exercise. Repeat until fat.

Also, not to be gross or anything, but I'm STILL having my period. Going strong since two Saturdays ago. Every time I think it's letting up, whoops! There we go again. If it doesn't stop before the next one starts, the doctor and I are going to have a serious chat. I'm pretty sure this isn't normal, even for someone who went without one for a year and a half. It's probably affecting my overall mood, appetite, and energy level. I just want to sit on the couch with a bag of chips and wait for it to be over.

Well, anyway, I'm determined to get my motivation back somehow. Tonight, I am going to do an upper body workout and eat something sensible, whether I feel like it or not. I am going to have less than 29 points today. I AM, dammit.