Friday, December 21, 2007

I'm baaaacckkk!!

I have no idea what happened to me there for a while. I think maybe I got a little overwhelmed by the lack of weight loss and the constant thoughts of dieting. I lost touch with my smarmy, tongue-in-cheek attitude that so many of you have come to love about me (and I'm sure just as many don't appreciate).

So, my deepest apologies to those of you who read this journal religiously. I have let you down.

Here's the update:

I am now only getting on the scale on the first of every month. That way, there is no chance of getting on the scale mid-month and letting the number manipulate me. Cause this is what happens:

A weight loss sends the message to my brain that I can indulge for the rest of the month. I lost some weight, so the extra cookie won't kill me. Unforunately for me, it is never just one extra cookie. It is always the whole bag of oreos.

A weight gain means I have lost the month entirely. Might as well go off the deep end and write it all off. If I could excercise with as much enthusiasm as I attack a bag of chips I would be ahead of the game.

In the last couple of months, I had one of those OMG moments I get every now and then. The last one I had was when I was shopping with my mom (see my August entry).

This time though, I was brought into my new awareness when I felt my eyes roll of their own accord while I was driving on the Deerfoot.

I would have missed the moment since I was snacking - and I go to another place in my head when I am snacking. You know that place: it's like a blank stare, but in your brain, and you have no idea what happened in the last 5 minutes between opening the bag of Doritos and touching the last few crumbs on the bottom.

The trigger this time was what I was snacking on. Pringles.

I realized about halfway through the cannister that I had hit a new low. I freaking hate Pringles. You know you have sunk to a new level when you eat just to keep your mouth moving. When you demolish a bag/tin/package of something you have never, ever enjoyed. For me, one of those things is Pringles, the other is Munchos (which happily, I have not seen here in the West, but then again, I am not looking for them ).

My eyes rolled in direct response to the pasty, filmy feeling the Pringles left in my mouth.

I realized right then that I would never do that again. I have no idea how I even had Pringles in the car and I have no recollection of buying them. But there they were in my hour of need. I felt awful about eating them, but I couldn't stop.

That epiphany was critical for me. I need to be more aware of what I am putting in my mouth. No more absent-minded snacking on the Deerfoot. Not only did I betray myself, but I betrayed all my favorite comfort foods. Mr. Christie, please forgive me.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

I have been remiss and not posted here in a while. And with all these new journals popping up, I felt I should add something.

If you want to read something inspirational, or read about the committment to weight loss, read someone else's journal.

I am in the midst of a reality check. I can't say I've given up, but I'm trying to find a way to enjoy what I like and lose weight at the same time. I want to have birthday cake and not feel I have to skip out on a meal or two to cover the extra calories. I want to have a movie night at home with potato chips instead of air popped plain popcorn.

That is the way I live. I have tried giving up the treats and had success until I stopped the program. As long as I was weighing in, I was losing. But I hated that I couldn't indulge in a steak dinner without banking my points, or cutting 2/3off and sending it back to the kitchen to be packed up, or not touching anything I couldn't calculate a point value for.

So now I'm eating Jenny Craig chili and using it as a dip for my Doritos.

I'm still getting on the treadmill, and I'm still trying to eat more sensibly. But my life cannot be fit squarely in a structured meal plan. Some nights I cannot get to eat my dinner until after 8pm. Some afternoons, I am too tired to cut up veggies for a salad. And sometimes I just want McDonalds for pete's sake. That's normal.

Still, I want to wish everyone in the body challenge the best of luck. I tried that one too and it did not work for me. But I am enjoying reading about everyone's successes. Keep up the good work.

As for me, I'll be getting on the treadmill later tonight (maybe) and then enjoying some Gray's Anatomy and potato chips with hubby (definitely).

Tomorrow, I may be back to carrots and salad. I doubt it, but there is always the notion...

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Surprise, surprise, surprise.

The running thing is not working out so great. Week 3 tooks me 2 weeks to complete. But Canmore, Halloween and laziness got in the way.

I wasn't ready to give up yet. On Sunday, I got back on the treadmill, ready to start on week four.

To sum it up, week four required me to run a mile, split into two intervals of a 1/2mile each. I managed to get through the first 1/2 mile and was so pleased with myself. But by the 2nd half mile, I was done. I really tried, but when I felt my lunch coming back up and I realized I was holding on to the treadmill for dear life, I thought hmmm, maybe this isn't working for me. The other clue was that my feet were shuffling and I wasn't running anymore.

So I just walked at a quick pace, tried to run a bit more, but it was over for me. I tried again last night and just couldn't enjoy myself. So for now, I think running is off the books.

But here's the interesting thing. I walked last night at a higher speed and I added incline. The "calories burned" was higher than when I did my running. How does that happen??? I worked up a bit of a sweat, and I feel like I could do it again tonight.

Exercise has always been like that for me. Fun at the beginning, but treacherous after a month or so. In the past I have always given up, but this time I will change the program every time I stop having fun. Maybe that will keep me going.

The most frustrating thing for me was that after 3 weeks of running, I only lost 2pounds. I know, I know, I'm building muscle and it weighs more than fat, but really, when you are stuck in the numbers game, that adage is irrelevant. It's all about the numbers on the scale.

And the numbers on the scale are critical for me. When I started running, I told my hubby that for every pound I lose, I was going to put a dollar in a jar. That money was going to buy me some lululemon pants - and with the amount I want to lose, there would be enough money by the time I hit my goal weight. Hubby upped the staked, by telling me he would match my fund dollar for dollar. And then I could buy a whole outfit. What a lovely man.

But now that has changed. I no longer want the lululemon pants. I want the gorgeous pair of boots I saw yesterday at Arnold Churgin. Maybe I can convince hubby to advance me on his contributions....

Monday, October 15, 2007

Week one of my Couch-to-5K is done. It ended really well - by the third day of jogging I was feeling like I could actually do a 5K.

But then something happened. I started week 2.

This week the challenge is to warm up for five minutes, then alternate 90 seconds of jogging with 2 minutes of walking for the next 20 minutes.

My naive little mind was completely tricked. I mean who wouldn't look at that challenge and say "That's not too bad. 2 minutes of walking is easy."

I hadn't really taken into consideration that I would be jogging for 30 seconds longer than last week, and that it would be after my body has rested an additional 30 seconds. I hadn't factored in the early morning (5:30 am if you were wondering). And because I was so fooled by the buoyancy of last week, I thought I was now a runner.

No.....I'm not.

I'm a 200+ lb woman who has decided to get into shape. I'm not already fit, I can't wear a jogging bra without it creating another set of boobs on my back, I can't run for 90 seconds without thinking "OMG I have another 30 seconds to go???? I'm gonna die..."

But I made it to the end. I'm not gonna lie and say I feel great. I am tired, my legs hurt and I've got a headache. My jogging bra is digging into me and I'm pretty sure my socks are cutting off the circulation to my toes.

Still, I'm going to do it again on Wednesday. I am not going to get on the scale, because I know that if I show no weight loss, I'll just quit. I'm just going to take comfort in the fact that I will - at some point in my life - feel less tired and heavy. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to get myself some lululemon pants and a sport bra that fits.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Yoga has been soooo good for me. It has inspired me to take a deep breath every now and then and just focus on the breathing and not what's making me tense. It has also moved me in a positive direction - my muscles are starting to come to life again and I actually got on the treadmill for the first time in months.

Last week, I took it easy on the machine. Like an old friend (who I only like sometimes) I had to get reacquainted with how it works. I put the little magnet key on and nothing - no power, no beeps, no lights. The little power button on the front wasn't lighting up either. I felt light a right idiot when I realized the darn thing wasn't even plugged in.

I really realized how long it's been when I went to put on my running shoes and thought I should shake them out first, just in case some spiders had taken residence. They were clear.

Now let me cut to the chase. I went for leisurely walks on the treadmill last week. In fact, I could have had a coffee in my hand and not spilled a drop but in my defense, the fitness experts tell you to take it easy when you first start an exercise regime. So .

This week I decided I was going to start jogging. I heard about a great website that trains you to be a jogger in 9 weeks. Now to me, that sounds way too ambitious. Most caterpillars take longer than that to grow into a butterfly. And I mean no disrespect to the larvae or the pupae, but it really doesn't appear to be strenuous exercise, KWIM.

I don't think I'm being unreasonable when I say I will learn to jog at my own pace, thank you very much.

I am starting a metamorphosis of my own. It is time.
For now, my chrysalis is in the basement. It's a little dusty from neglect, but that is only temporary. When spring comes, I would like to emerge....OK - enough of the metaphors. You all get it.

So tonight I started to jog. 5 minute warm-up, then 60 seconds of jogging, then 90 seconds of walking for a total of 25 minutes. Not too bad right?

Well, I did it. And I can't lie - it was friggin hard. After 10 minutes, I wanted to quit. After 15, I thought I was going to vomit. I didn't think I could make it to 25, but I have lived to tell the tale.

Ummm...can someone please call me in the morning to make sure I can move?

Saturday, September 15, 2007

I started Yoga this week. I haven't done yoga for about 5 years, so needless to say, I am rusty.

I know there are people who absolutely love yoga, and I am fully aware of the benefits, but there are some things about yoga that people don't tell you - just like there are some ugly bits about pregnancy and childbirth that you only find out about through experience.

Here's my yoga experience.

This is a beginner class, so it is really basic. The class focusses on breathing and stretching the muscles, so I won't be expected to put my ankle behind my head in this session. Good thing, because there is little chance I could get my thigh over my head without knocking myself out.

So we start with breathing into the stomach. No problem. Then we work on breathing into the sternum (ie rib cage) and the chest. Ummmm....what? Have you seen me? I haven't seen my ribs in 4 years and after 2 kids my chest has sort of worked itself downward into that region. I cannot tell the difference. I think I'm breathing into the sternum, but then I feel my boobs hit my chin, so I'm not sure. No matter, I'll just keep going.

The legs & butt are next. Various streches and bends and twists. I am pretty flexible, so that's not the issue. What happens is my thighs get in the way (sigh...again). It may not look like it, but my butt is on the floor and my legs are up in the air. It's just tough to tell where they separate.

But believe me, my lower back knows the difference, because it is now starting to hurt. I've messed things up by shifting the weight. My legs, so used to taking the brunt of my bulk, are now laughing their...well....ass off, because they are happily in the air enjoying a break while the back is groaning.

And I've completely lost focus on my breathing. Why? Because as I bring my legs to my chest, I'm focussing on one other thing: trying not to pass gas. Think about it - how do you relieve a baby's gas? By bringing their legs up to the chest and moving the legs around. JUST LIKE IN YOGA!!! Why wouldn't it have the same effect on adults?

Still, I keep trying the stretches, while trying not to let one go. And eventually we move on to the arms and back which turned out to be really uneventful.

I think for next week, I'll do some knee bends at home before I go to class. Let all the gas out before I get there. That way, I can concentrate on feeling and listening to my body. I'm pretty sure I know what my body will be saying - and I don't think that kind of language is appropriate in a yoga class.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

made a horrible mistake last week.

I went clothes shopping with my mother.

I haven't been clothes shopping with my mother since I was 14 and we had that "incident" in Bi-Way. We always shopped at Bi-Way - it was a discount boutique where the clothes were really cheap and really unfashionable. It was like it was built specifically for single moms with overweight children.

Anyways, the "incident" was a mortifying Saturday afternoon just before the return to school after winter holidays. I was browsing at one end of the store (probably near the candy ) and my mom was somewhere else far away from me.

I am pretty sure the music playing over the speakers was Prince's Purple Rain because now, whenever I hear it, I feel my cheeks get hot and my ears want to bleed.

So I'm walking around, minding my own business, when from somewhere inside the store I hear my mom yell: "Dana, the largest sizes are over here!" Come try on these pants and this bra."

Like I said, mortifying.

So this week, with years of experience behind me and a whole lot more self-confidence, I let my judgement lapse and went shopping with my mother. I don't know what I was thinking.

I guess I was just blissfully ignorant, like a bug that is enjoying a beautiful day, until wham! It hits a windshield and it's all over. My windshield was in the "Woman" department at Sears.

Once again, I was just browsing. But this time, instead of my mom yelling for me across the store, I looked up from a rack I was sifting through and discovered my mom was at the same rack!

I swear I felt a little bit of throw up come into my mouth, and all the memories of that day in Bi-Way came back to me. And now I can no longer listen to James Blunt's Beautiful without feeling a little bit sick.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

There comes a time in every overweight person's life when they hit rock bottom and finally get it.

It can happen at any time: when you catch a glimpse of youself naked in the mirror; when you eat so much crap in one day you are physically ill; when you can no longer fit into your largest size pants.

I think I hit my rock bottom yesterday while I was folding laundry. I picked up a pair of my underpants and was holding them up to fold and was hit with a sudden .

I was completely dumbfounded by the sheer size of them. Let me give you some perspective.

My underpants are big enough to fit both my children side-by-side, a couple of stuffies to keep them company and there would still be room for books, snacks, diapers and a change of clothes. Like a freaking knapsack.

How the hell did I get here?

I can't say for sure that at that moment I decided enough was enough. I can say that I was definitely not interested in any junk food. I wasn't depressed to the point of eating myself into stupor. But it really made me think.

It was so deflating, so shocking and so funny at the same time. All the granny pants jokes came back to me in a hurry. But my granny never had knickers that large.

And of course, my wonderful son, the brilliant three-year-old who has not yet learned to keep some thoughts to himself, just had to blurt out "Wow, mommy, those are soooo big!"

Yes they are, my pet, now come here so I can measure where the straps need to go. Mommy is making you a new knapsack.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

When you are overweight, shopping for clothes is rarely a pleasurable experience. For those of you who have never had this issue, let me explain.

When you are plus size, every trip to the fitting room can set off an emotional breakdown. The feeling is something akin to trying on a swimsuit over and over and over....

It probably wouldn't be so bad if the friggin designers could agree on a sizing guideline. It's bad enough that there are discrepancies in kid's clothing, but when you are dealing with a plus size woman, the specs for an 18w and a 20w shouldn't be as wide as the Grand Canyon (no wide jokes please).

I won't mention any company names, because I don't want to be sued. I'll just make a general reference to the type of store.

Let's start with the stores that claim to sell plus size clothing, but really don't. First, there is the challenge of finding the plus section, because in this store it is usually buried behind the clearance rack. Like the company is embarassed to sell anything larger than a 14. Well, they should be embarassed - the 2XL barely made it over my boobs. I can't be certain what size their model was, but I would guess that she was maybe a medium with some monthly bloating.

My next favorite store is the one that carries several different lines in plus size clothing. Someone in the corporate office decided it would be clever to size the in-house brand differently than all the other plus sizes labels. I suppose someone was thinking that sales would boom when women realized they only needed a size 21 and not a 24, assuming of course they had the patience to figure out exactly how the sizing works. Believe me, after trying on 4 pairs of pants to find the right size, I was too exasperated to think about the smaller number.

And by the way, this is the same store where you can buy a pair of blue pants in one size and then need to go 2 sizes larger for the same pants in black.

Next on my list, is the store that has the audacity to charge a higher price for a plus size. Why on earth should I have to pay more because I want the same skirt my skinny friends bought? That's just extortion and I was already pissed off because this store parks the plus section next to the "OMG my grandma would love that sparkly sweatsuit" section.

And last but not least - and this is not unique to any particular store - why is it that some designers assume that if you need a size 22, you must be six feet tall? Overweight women, myself among them, have a tendancy to grow out, not up, you morons. I am tired of having to alter my clothes so that my jeans aren't dragging a foot behind me like a wedding train.

I have to be fair though. There are a handful of stores that manage to get it right. The pants are the right length (god bless the person who came up with plus petite!!). The sizes are all the same regardless of the garment color. And they are priced fairly. There are even some stores that don't carry plus sizes, but are generous with the XXL. And that, to me, is like a lottery win.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Another week has passed and I have not been really following the WW program. Another week has passed and I really did not want to get on the scale. Another week has passed and my MIL is gone, but my mom is here.

This morning, I got on the scale and was ready for it. I had the mental talk with myself. Whatever it says is fine. It's just another week. And my mom is here to support me with her tongue clicking (tsk tsk), her snarky comments (I thought you were on a diet) and her backhanded compliments (I admire that you can wear that and not feel self-conscious).

Whatever.

And something happened that has never happened before. Without effort, I lost weight. Not just a pound, but 3!!! I didn't have to pee before I weighed myself, or strip down, or wait until after I dried my hair to tip the scale favourably in my direction. I did get on the scale a second time just to make sure it was right. Same reading.

So now that I am down 10 lbs, I am inspired to continue doing nothing. That's the perfect weight loss system for me. Stress-free, no counting, no worries weight loss. Oh, and denial.

If I don't admit to what Jeff and I ate over the weekend, then it doesn't count. It didn't happen. If I break a chocolate bar in half, all the fat and calories with fall out. The blt's (bites, licks and tastes) really won't affect me if I spread them out over the whole day.

So I will continue having strawberries and waffles with syrup every morning and watermelon after lunch. The fruit is good for me anyways and that's really the only thing that was different this past week.

Please, please, please let it work. Then I can tell my mom she can get stuffed when she tells me for the hundredth time that watermelon is full of sugar and I'd be better off eating the rind.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Week three is long gone, and I'm sorry to say I completely lost it over the last week and a half. We've been eating out and indulging. When my weigh-in day came last Thursday, I ignored the scale.

That's because on Wednesday night I did the pre-weigh-in weigh-in.

Whenever I am on a diet program, I always weigh myself the night before I have to pay the piper. I need to be mentally prepared for a let down if there will be one. More often than not, when my pre-weigh-in indicated a gain, I would skip out on the official weigh-in. I then spent the next week trying to undo the damage.

So this morning, I got on the scale. Surprisingly, I had only put one pound back on. Depsite the Dim Sum pig out, the steak dinner on date night, the late night ice cream. Phew.

So I am back on track now. I am changing my weigh-in day to Monday - maybe that way I'll behave better on the weekend.

But I am taking a weekend pass for Stampede. I mean, c'mon, who can pass up the funnel cakes?

Friday, June 15, 2007

Week 2 is over! Yesterday was my weigh-in and I really wasn't feeling very confident. My MIL came into town and things sort of went wonky around here. She makes these cookies - Jewish people call them ruggeleh, or ruggies for short - and they are divine. Crescent shaped doughy cookies filled with jam and chocolate chips. The minute I see them, I can feel my hips expanding. Damn her!

So I indulged in one or two. Or was it four or five? Doesn't matter, I indulged. Crap.

Still, I managed to lose another 2 pounds this week. Good enough for me.

Last week, I promised I would indulge my new goal. So here it is: I will be under 200 pounds by Mason's first day of school.

I can't believe I'm going to say this, but when I started 2 weeks ago, I was 229. I know, I know, I don't look a pound over 220. I get that all the time.

That gives me 11 weeks to lose 24 pounds. I can surely manage 2.18 pounds per week. It may be hard to track, since my scale measures in absolutes and I won't know if I lost 2 pounds, or 2.06, or 2.18. So I'll just aim for 2. That's not an insurmountable goal.

Especially since the ruggies are almost gone, and I have forbidden myself to buy any flour and empower her to make more. Yes, everyone will have to suffer. If they need a fix, I have a spoon, a jar of jam and a bag of chocolate chips. Go crazy.

Friday, June 8, 2007

Well, yesterday was my "weigh-in" day. I can't say I wasn't nervous about it. I knew that if the scale didn't move, I would be in the grocery store before you could say All Dressed Ruffles. I knew that I would be cranky and disillusioned all day. I knew that if that there was no weight loss, it would be a long time before I would try again.

That's a whole lotta pressure on a little LED screen.

I had a little mental talk with myself before I tapped it on.

"Don't take it out the kids."
"You're due to get your period so don't expect miracles."
"Even one pound is a good start."

And then I did it. I stepped on the scale and averted my eyes. I think I even squeezed them shut and said a little prayer.

Week #1, I lost 4 lbs.!!!

Now, to anyone who is thinking "The first 10 pounds is just water", please keep it to yourself. Four pounds is a victory regardless of where it comes from. Four pounds of water is just as encouraging, as valuable, and as deserved as four pounds of fat.

To be perfectly honest, it wasn't that much of a struggle. I ate well, I ate healthy, and I ate regularly - which has always been my downfall.

So WW is clearly the plan for me. I am actually looking forward to my next week - and the many weeks after that. I have set a realistic goal, and I'll share that next week. Stay tuned....

Friday, June 1, 2007

I must be out of my mind.

Yesterday, I decided to go back on the weight watchers program. It worked so well for me before, so it seemed only right to give it another go.

This morning, I decided to stop smoking. I slapped on a patch and I'm waiting for it to kick in.

So I'm trying to diet and quit smoking at the same time.

Like I said: out of my mind.

Fortunately, the patch will help with the jitters and withdrawal. It's a strange little crutch, but it works. But I find myself rubbing it during the day in a useless effort to get more nicotine through my skin. The patch is not like a toothpase tube: you can't squeeze anything more out of it.

Day one of the diet went pretty smoothly. Except for the head games. Some people would call it a change of thinking, but in my head, it`s just an endless conversation about points.

I thought I would approach my first day differently than I did the last time I tried WW. Instead of checking the points before I decided what to eat, I would decide what to eat and then check the points.

Having done this before, I already knew some point values. But I had to start weighing and measuring everything again. One roast beef sandwich on a small dinner roll looks very lost on a dinner plate. A WW leader once suggested that putting your food on a smaller dish would trick your mind into thinking you were getting more food.

I have no idea whose brain she was referring to, but it was not mine. My brain knows it is getting short -changed. My stomach is fine with it, but the cerebral support is lacking. Tummy has to go it alone.

And there was another problem. The last time I did WW, I started in winter. By the time iced capp and frappucino season came along, I was well into the program and closing in on my goal. This time, I am already addicted.

So the search starts for low-point alternative. No matter how badly I want an iced cap, I am not willing to skip a meal to have it. I think I may have found something - the berry boost at second cup. Only 3 points! Half the points and twice the cost of an iced capp. So it will be a rare treat.

Wish me luck. I just want to tell everyone two things: 1) I am sorry if I am a bear over the next couple of weeks; and 2) please don't look at me funny when I try to smoke my carrot stick. Brain & tummy are fighting....

Monday, April 30, 2007

It is a perpetual truth that most people find it very hard to take a compliment. Especially women.

Men don't have this problem. You tell them they look good in those jeans, they immediately assume you are hitting on them. If you notice the haircut, they assume you are hitting on them. If you compliment them for some dandy handiwork, they assume you want to sleep with them. Men are so simple.

Women, on the other hand, are a more fickle group when it comes to compliments. I think most of us are pretty quick to dish out the compliments to our female friends and usually without an agenda. We just noticed something and want to say hey, good for you!

But when we are on the receiving end of a compliment, we are self-deprecating, shy and embarrassed. I think it's exacerbated when weight & diet is involved.

When someone says "Hey, you look like you've lost weight!" I immediately counter with "Umm, no, I haven't." Heaven forbid I should just say thank you and be pleased that I look thinner that day. I know what my scale says. And if you continue to stand within earshot, I'll stammer about how I just got new pants, or a bra that actually fits and separates my boobs from waist.

Bless the kind ones who continue. "Well, your face looks thinner. So whatever you're doing, just keep doing it."

What I'm doing is eating chips and ice cream. Avoiding the treadmill (because my kids are now using it as a launching pad onto an air mattress). Generally being lazy about eating right.

But what I'll do is plaster a smile on my face and say "Thanks".

We should all be more accepting of compliments. A friend of mine always greets every compliment with a huge smile and an enthusiatic "Thank you for saying that". Crap, I hope she doesn't think I'm hitting on her....

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Ugh...I am having one of those fat days.

You know those days when you feel bloated and gross. When the pants that were sagging yesterday are now digging into your waist. When your fingers feel so chubby that making a fist just hurts.

And it's not all in my head. I'm getting my period, my throat was killing me last night, and my mother was stressing me out. I was a fat day just waiting to happen.

Getting my period means I NEED CHOCOLATE. There's no getting around that. Happily it does not happen every month, but this month I so needed that triple chocolate donut from Tim's. I didn't even really enjoy it - as soon as I picked up the bag at the drive thru, Mason started yelling "I need some" and Westin was whining while straining to get out of his car seat to reach the bag. It's a sad day when you can no longer conceal your drive thru sins from your kids.

The sore throat definitely warranted a visit to Co-op to get some ice cream. It hurt everytime I swallowed, and I had it in my head that only Heavenly Hash would help. It used to be Chocolate Chip, but Breyers discontinued that flavour. By the time I finished my bowl, my throat was better, but I could feel the body bloat starting in my feet.

And my mother. Well, we all have them, so I don't need to be particular about the conversation. Let me just say that anything you have heard about having a Jewish mother is true - the perpetual guilt trip (I was in labour for 44 hours with you and there were no drugs back then), the ability to disguise an insult as a question (so have you lost even one more pound), and the condescending remarks that make you feel like you are 5 again and just got caught stealing cookies (well, if why did you pay for the class if you're not going to bother taking him?) Oy....

On the bright side, my fat day really began yesterday afternoon. I only noticed it when I was on the phone with my mother. As I moved the phone to cradle it between my ear and my shoulder, my chubby cheek hit the TALK button and I accidently hung up on her.

So fat days aren't so bad after all.

Sunday, April 8, 2007

I overheard a conversation the other day between an 11-year-old and his father that went something like this:

11-year-old: I'm not inviting her to my party, she's so annoying.

Dad: Why is she annoying?

11-year-old: Oh my god...she's fat and she never shuts up and her voice is irritating!

Dad: Oh. Okay then. Just stay away from her.

OH MY GOD!!! WTF???

At first I was enraged with this, and then I started having flashbacks to my own school days.

If I had had the nerve, I would have said something. It's really not my business, but the poor boy could certainly use some guidance & insight from the other side.

1) Fat kids are always friends with the geeks.

Since we are equally ostracized and made fun of, it is only natural that we should form a strong bond. The fat people will eventually lose weight and, well, we all know how it turns out for the geeks. Bill Gates can tell you.

2) Fat kids are always the last ones to get picked for the team.

Let me ask you this. Do you know what it's like to face down a line of fat kids in Red Rover? Bring it on skinny kids - you'll never get through our line and it only takes one of our teammates to knock down your whole line. Who's the loser?

3) Fat kids make the most loyal friends.

Your skinny friends will steal your boyfriend or girlfriend. They will stab you in the back and spread gossip about you. The fat kids - having been outcast - are extremely loyal and kind. They tend to be followers more than leaders. And the bible says "The meek shall inherit the earth." So when your fat friend rules the universe, you can only benefit.

4) Fat kids will forever remember the names they were called.

Fat kids never forget the hurt. And they never forget the people who did the hurting. All the name-calling has toughened them and they are better equipped to handle the real world. Have you ever seen an overweight homeless person?

5) Despite the fat jokes, it is really a small world.

Just be nice to the fat kids. You never know when you'll meet again. Chances are you'll run into one of them when you are interviewing for a job or facing a DWI charge. Heck, the fat kid might even be the doctor you are consulting for liposuction. What goes around, comes around.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Return of the ticker!!!!

I was so shocked when I got on the scale this morning, I just had to ressurect the ticker. I am now down 8 pounds!!!

Now, before anyone cheers or congratulates me, I have to be completely honest. I did not earn this weight loss.

I haven't been working out, or watching what I eat, or drinking litres of water. I have been sick and unable to eat for the last 4 days.

My Dr. McDreamy (oh yeah ladies) assures me this is just a virus that is going around. I already know that because I just had it a month ago. I am tired of disinfecting and my hands are so dry that my fingerprints are changing.

But I digress.

Whenever this happens to me, one thing consistenltly pops into my mind: Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion. You know, the line when Romy says "Mono was like the best diet ever".

I am pretty sure I'm not the only one who finds a nugget of truth in this quote. I had pneumonia when I was a kid and I lost 13 lbs. in one week. When I got it again 2 years later, I was thrilled. Sick, I know.

Losing weight when you are sick and not trying is a gift. I try not to get lulled into a false sense of success. Experience has taught me that as soon as I can eat a cracker, all the weight I lost will come rushing back to my hips.

But in the meantime, I am sticking to the liquids. Soup, tea, water. Oh, and the occassional milkshake. I mean, really, if it's not staying with me anyways, why the heck shouldn't I? It's like having immunity on Survivor - except without the million-dollar prize at the end.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

I took the boys to Playtopia for the first time yesterday.
What a great place!

But nothing reminds you that you are out of shape like one of those play structures.

There are two things that make me very nervous:
1) A large water slide - I always worry that my butt will get stuck; and
2) A large climbing structure for children.

It strikes fear into me that my children will get stuck and I will have to climb in there to save them. I have visions that my hips will get wedged into one of those small tunnels and the fire department will have to come cut me out.

Not to mention the contortion that is required to get in there in the first place. Those things were not built for anyone with hips, boobs, or an ample butt. I have images of children screaming because I had to twist my body unnaturally and accidentally squished a wee one with my hips. Even worse is the thought that by body fat is so cushioning that I wouldn't even notice.

But yesterday, I did go in. My son and his little friend needed help getting to the next level. So I climbed up there - way, way up there - to give them the boost we needed.

The foamy steps were easy enough. The little platforms to get up a couple of levels were at knee level, so those were a cinch.

But then I had to cross through a tunnel. Not a plastic tunnel, but one of those mesh ones. I wasn't sure it would hold me and I carefully assessed how far the fall down was. I had no choice but to go on - there was a line up of little ones behind me.

That little tunnel was like those Ikea kids chairs - they just don't look strong enough for an adult, but lo and behold they hold your weight.

Overall, once I got to the kids, I actually started having fun. I was playing in there!!!!

This morning, I am feeling the pain all over my body. I used muscles that haven't moved for more than 2 years.
It actually feels great.

Oh, and no kids were traumatized. But I really should have apologized to the dad who was in there with me and got a face-full of me.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

I removed my ticker last night. There was some kind of technical glitch and there was nothing there. So instead of trying to fix it, I just dumped it.

Sad thing too - I could have changed it today. When I got on the scale this morning, I was down another pound. So that's 5 pounds in about oh...4 months. At this rate I'll be at my goal weight in 6.8 years. I think I need to accelerate that. I refuse to have my car paid off before I'm a size 10.

Tonight, I treated myself to 2 chocolate truffles and now I am sick to my stomach. It seems that lately I don't have the capacity to pig out like I used to. So sad....

As some of you have noticed, I changed my avatar. I have that picture on my fridge, but it really was not working there. I'm not a fridge snacker, I am a pantry peruser. When I have the urge to nosh, I will open and close the pantry a zillion times looking for something good to eat. I don't know what I'm looking for, since there is no junk food fairy in my house who is sneaking treats into the pantry after I close the door.

I can't put the picture on the pantry - that just seems weird. So I posted it in the other place I frequent - here.

I have also changed my tactic. I am no longer dieting. It is just too frustrating to think I am denying myself all the time. Can't have this, I'm on a diet. Can't eat that, I'm on a diet. Can't enjoy a good meal, I'm on a diet. It's just too depressing.

So last week, I dumped the diet mentality. I am starting to cart around a bottle of water and I'm drinking it every day. I leave it in my car, and I absent-mindedly drink the whole thing. And I lost weight this week.

But you know, I'll be seriously pissed if I lose weight by just visualizing my goal and drinking water. All those years of diet programs and exercise regimes. All that money invested in trainers and nutritionists. All the time spent at the gym sweating like a pig and panting like a dirty old man.

Can you imagine if it was that easy? Ladies, I'll volunteer to be the guinea pig for this experiment. I'll keep my exercise to a minimum, drink my water, and change my way of thinking. If it works, I'll be thrilled, and I'll sell you a copy of the non-regimented regime for a small fee.

Of course, you have to wait around for the results for 6.8 years.....

Monday, March 5, 2007

When you have a lot of weight to lose, it seems like the end will never come. You diet and you exercise and you deprive yourself and at the end of the week, the scale has barely moved.

It's freakin exhausting.

Now I realize that people lose weight in different ways, but it has never seemed fair to me the way I lose weight.

For some people, 10 pounds is very noticeable. For others, you can only notice from the way they hold their heads a bit higher. For me, 10 pounds is only obvious to me - and that's because of the way I lose weight.

I don't have to step on the scale to know I've lost weight. I just have to step in my shoes, because that's where I lose it first.

After my feet have shrunk a size, the weight loss will move on to my face. I lose my chins and then my chubby cheeks and people look at me weird. They know something is different, but can't quite figure it out. I'll help you out - it's that my head now looks too small for my body.

As I lose more weight, the changes become more evident from the neck down. After the face, it's the boobs - first the ones in front, then the back boobs.

Then it's a natural progression: waist, hips, butt.

But it takes forever for the weight loss to show on my derriere. Let's not even talk about the thighs.

So if you happen to notice that I'm wearing new shoes, be an angel and say something. It'll make me feel good for a while - at least until my head starts to shrink.

Friday, March 2, 2007

I don't know what's wrong with me. I've come off the flu and I'm now recovering from my cold. I stepped on the scale thinking the numbers would have gone down since I haven't had much of an appetite for over a week.

No such luck.

This afternoon, I watched the video of my first wedding. I was about 70 pounds lighter than I am now. What stuck in my mind was how great I felt when I was that thin.

I need to get there again.

I dug out a picture of me at my thinnest and stuck it on the fridge. But I know better than to think that will motivate me.

Growing up, we always had some sort of magnet or device aimed at keeping us away from the fridge. I remember all the magnets:

A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.

Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

If you have it now, you'll pay for it later.

Diet is only a four letter word.

And the gadgets:

The pig that oinked when you opened the fridge door.

The bobbly head that stuck to the side of the fridge and went :no: .

The mini recorder that admonished you in your own voice when you opened a cupboard.

None of them worked. Not for me, not for my mother.

What they did do was leave an imprint on my brain. So much so, that I can even recall exactly what they looked like and exactly where they were.

"A moment on the lips, forever on the hips"

This magnet sat on the side of the fridge - next to the magnetic shopping list and the fridge clip that held the chinese food take out menus.

"Nothing tastes as good as think feels"

This one had a chip in the upper right corner. It smacked into wall next to the freezer door one Saturday afternoon when I failed to maintain my balance while trying to stop the ice cream from slipping out of my hands.

"If you have it now, you'll pay for it later" and "Diet is only a four letter word."

Both of these were on the front of the fridge and both were made of that milky cheap plastic. They moved around a lot and were generally used to hold food coupons. Their neighbours were the magnets shaped like ice cream cones, candy floss and licorice bits.

Hey, wait a minute.......................

Friday, February 23, 2007

Getting the flu sucks...unless you are on a diet. While you feel like crap from head to toe, you can't help thinking the lack of food and constant trips to the bathroom are going to pay off when you step on the scale.

Sure enough, I've lost three of the pounds that found me last week. So being achy and unable to keep anything in had a pay-off.

But when your kids have the flu at the same time as you, the stakes are much higher. You don't have time to eat anything because you're spending too much time cleaning up poop or puke.

And when the appetite returns, and you are thinking about actually eating something, one of your children will ruin it for you.

That's what happened here. I was actually discussing dinner with my husband, when Westin woke up screaming. He had puked all over his crib. Normally, this wouldn't bother me - lord knows we've all cleaned up stinky puke. But this afternoon, Westin had grapes and they had been fermenting all afternoon in his rumbling belly. The vomit smelled like cheap wine.

And it wasn't just the smell that made me lose my appetite. It was the memories that came flooding back to me of when I lived in Italy and consumed cheap wine on a daily basis. We were in university over there and we partied every night - which meant someone threw up every night. The smell permeated the entire dorm building - and the only thing that overpowered it was cooking a pizza.

So I threw a pizza into the oven. So far, it's working. It smells much better in here already. Now, if the kids stay asleep I may actually be able to imagine I'm back in Italy - minus the rolling tuscan hills, the enormous fireplace in the quad and the bats flying in through the open windows.

But now I'm thinking about guana (bat droppings) and I'm starting to lose it again. But that's a story for another day....

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

My 37th birthday has come and gone. I had a couple of good weeks and now I'm back at square one. The four pounds I lost found me.

It's not fair - I can't hide from my fat and I can't hide from my kids.

There's an old Jewish wives tale that says if it rains on your wedding day, then you will be a nosher - a snacker. Well, it poured the day I married my first husband.

The weight I gained in the 2 years I was married to him really had nothing to do with the weather. It had everything to do with the miserable, confused, frustrated, closet homosexual he turned out to be.

My second wedding day was more temperate. It was the May long weekend and the weather was perfect. But I was 6 months pregnant, so the odds were already stacked against me.

This weekend, I told my husband I was determined to be a yummy mummy by the time I'm 40. That gives me three years to use every excuse known to dieters worldwide before I get my act together.

My husband just looked at me and said I was already a yummy mummy. Bless his heart - but that's small comfort coming from someone who has chronic macular edema and hasn't seen anything clearly for three years.

So I start again. Somehow I have to find the desire to get on the treadmill. I have to summon the willpower to pass the potato chip aisle. I have to get over the advice passed down through Jewish history: In a restaurant choose a table near a waiter.

Never failed me yet....

Thursday, February 8, 2007

Hooray for me! I finally got to change my ticker.

I was completely shocked when I got on the scale. It's nice when hard work finally pays off.

For somebody trying to shed the pounds, getting on a friendly scale and seeing the numbers have gone down is far more gratifying than the best sex you could ever have. That chocolate cake you walked away from (while hiding your face so no one can see you crying) was a smart move.

The funny thing about losing weight is that you never remember just how bad you were when you gain a pound. We know we were bad - how many times have you said to yourself "Well, I blew the last couple of days, so I might as well write off the whole week."?

When you've had a bad week, you so don't want to get on that scale, because you know what the result will be. Still, that little voice inside your head is saying maybe I'll be lucky and I'll be the same weight I was last week.

Dream on.

The chocolate cake you did eat, the day you had breakfast twice because you were hungry before you met your friends for breakfast, the box of low fat cookies you devoured, the 2 bags of rice cakes you ate instead of lunch, and the wedding where you drank too much and were incapable of keeping track of your points are all going to show up eventually.

Maybe not this week, or the next, but those pounds will show. Sometimes they show so far after the fact that you have forgotten already and you wonder why you gained weight after working out everyday for an hour and eating well.

Thus begins the viscious cycle. Work out, eat right, gain weight. Not exactly a recipe for success. The hardest part is sticking to it when the scale is not co-operating.

When I'm in that cycle, I have to focus on how I feel, not what the scale says. I have to hold onto the fact that I felt great after a workout, and I didn't need a nap because I had salad for lunch instead of a McChicken.

So I didn't gain weight from my trip to Toronto - at least it isn't showing yet. But this time, when it does catch up to me, I'll be prepared for the emotional meltdown. And instead of giving up and eating a large bag of All Dressed potato chips I'll take it out on my husband. Way more fun than a bag of chips - and I won't feel crappy afterwards.

Sunday, February 4, 2007

Well, I am back from a very long week in Toronto and I can safely say I wish I drowned myself in a bowl of whipped cream. I like to keep it clean, so I'll leave all the profanity out, but feel free to insert one wherever you like. Every other word should just about hit the mark for as many times as I would like to swear.

Going home is supposed to be a pleasant experience, but I think most of us are disappointed when we visit our relatives. I haven't seen a lot of my family for 2 years, and I guess the distance made me forget how awful they can be. But I won't get into any of that other than to say that every family has someone who lacks the ability to speak with tact (what happened to your diet?), a self-absorbed head case (I'll ask a question and walk away before you can answer), and a nut who can talk to the dead ('nuf said).

So the week was spent overindulging in eating out. Since we weren't at home, I hadn't really planned any meals. I made sure the kids had the staples, like yogurt and applesauce, but I didn't consider what I would eat for breakfast. So I either had leftovers from the night before, or I skipped breakfast and devoured my lunch.

Truthfully, I tried to be good and limited myself to salads at lunch. And dinner was a cinch, especially when I was with people who had no interest in helping me with the kids so I could eat. The only time I could really eat was when we ordered pizza because I could eat it and handle the boys at the same time.

And I discovered that it is impossible to overeat at a chinese buffet when both your parents are oblivious to the fact that you are sitting between two toddlers. I guess they just didn't notice when my children learned that 1) potstickers stick to walls, hair, and my face as well as the pot and 2) chicken balls make great missiles. I think I still have sweet & sour sauce in my ear.

Overall, I didn't really eat much the entire week. But my body holds onto every calorie and fat gram when I'm not eating properly. I am terrified to get on the scale in the morning. But I'm home and happy to be back among my friends and in my own house.

I'll get back on track with my diet as soon as I finish picking the potstickers out of my hair.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

A very wise and wonderful friend of mine said that a food addiciton was the hardest addiction she ever had to fight. Of course, I don't know firsthand about serious addictions - I mean I smoked a lot of pot and did other junk in high school, but never relied on it. But I do know about food addiction and smoking.

Right now, I am battling them both. I used to think that I would smoke forever because I was afraid that quitting would make me eat. I've been off and on the cigarettes for 6 months now and I've gained weight whether I was smoking or not.

So I started thinking about food addiction. Of all the addictions, this one is probably the worst one to have. There really is no stigma attached to being a food addict. You won't lose your house, it is easy to hide and the goods are readily available and affordable. No one ever went to rehab because they were a Doritos junkie.

There is no 12-step program, no sugar substitute injection clinic, no anonymous hotline. Food addicts are left to fend for themselves. That's pretty harsh for someone who can't seem to walk away from the Oreos, or can freely put the potato chips in the shopping cart, or purchase a fix in full public view.

And the saddest part is - there are hundreds of millions of us. Food addicts are probably more prevalent than all the other addicts combined. Year after year we open our wallets for the latest diet, hoping to find one that works. There is no government funding or subsidy to help cover the cost of weight loss programs. Businesses will pay for employees to quit smoking, but you'd have a hard time getting your boss to foot the bill for Weight Watchers.

So what can we do? We have to rely on each other. Set up our own little network of support. Develop our own programs that provide real-life solutions.

As for me, I'm going to get a sponsor. I'm sure she won't mind the 2 a.m. "I'm going to drive to 7-11 in my pajamas to get a slurpee" phone call.

Friday, January 19, 2007

6:12 is not a bible reference

It's been a few days since I've been inspired to write in this journal. In fact, it's been hard to get inspired to do anything.

As we all know, being a mom is a tough job. We are always on the clock, taking care of home and kids, and rarely taking time for ourselves. I've been so tired the last few days, and have been hard-pressed to do anything remotely related to dieting and exercise.

But I got on the scale this morning and was rather pleased to see I've lost two pounds in the last week and half. I've been trying to eat better and exercise when I can, but it's so hard when your kids are up in the middle of the night and you're sleep deprived.

My husband - who I love dearly - had the bright idea to make a suggestion. Whatever possessed him to think he was being helpful by recommending I get up early to get on the treadmill? I know he means well, but he is sometimes simple. He can't help it - he's missing the chromosome that makes women the superior half of the species.

What he doesn't realize is that your children will sabotage your plans. It's what they're meant to do. If you need to be somewhere for 10 am, they will sleep until 930. If you throw out the rotting bananas, they wil want them for supper and have a meltdown because you don't have any. If you buy them the Thomas DVDs they begged for, they will want to watch Cars over and over and over and over...well you get it.

And, as I tried to explain to my husband, if you set your alarm for 6 am, your children will wake up at 612. There is no way on god's green earth that I am going to try to outsmart my children and set the alarm for 530. I know better. They will start waking up at 537 and the pattern will start to be set. Before you know it, one kid is taking a nap mid-morning and the other is taking an afternoon nap. And neither will go to bed at a decent hour. One will be overtired; the other not tired at all. So no time for the treadmill.

Being a man, my husband had a plan "B". He suggested I get on the treadmill when Westin is napping and take Mason into the basement with me. Brilliant!! So I can be on the treadmill and trying to keep a 2 year old off it. That's like paying two dollars to get on the carousel at Chinook and making him stand off to the side just watching the fun. Never gonna happen!!!

So I'm stuck in a rut for the time being. But it's okay, because I have a plan "C".

Tomorrow morning, I am going to set the alarm for 6am. I'm going to quickly change into my workout clothes and head to the basement. I have a very short window, and I need to be in the basement within the next 10 minutes. When my husband has to get up at 612 to get the kids, I'll already be into my workout, blissfully plugged into my MP3 player and oblivious to what's happening upstairs.

Hey, it was his suggestion, right?

Monday, January 15, 2007

Alberta Geography

Boredom is deadly to anyone on a diet. Without something to do I usually just eat. I've already folded laundry, cleaned the kitchen and spent a half hour on the treadmill. Hubby is catching up on his paperwork, so I am left to my own dangerous devices.

Instead of eating, I spent some time playing around with the pictures on my computer - organizing, deleting, emailing - that sort of thing. Then I came across a full-body picture of me and my mind started to wander....

Boredom not only makes me want to eat, it makes me want do things that other people would consider strange. Not like what is she doing burying those garbage bags in the yard kind of strange, but stupid people tricks strange.

I have been cursed with a vivid imagination, and when I have nothing to occupy me, the imagination takes over. Tonight, I started to wonder how much of an atlas-sized map of the province of Alberta I could cover with a 4x6 picture of myself. Don't ask why I need to know this.

If I put my feet down at the US border, my head would be right near Lac La Biche. Just like my jeans in high school, my thighs are squished into the tight space where the Rockies crowd into the southern part of the province.

Here's the scary part - my hips stretch from the eastern edge of Banff to Oyen. Talk about a whole lotta Alberta beef.

Maybe that's the secret to weight loss - geography. Never mind the numbers on the scale or the size of my jeans. Forget about counting calories or points or fat grams. No longer will I obssess about getting back to the size I was before I had kids.



I would be very comfortable if my hips would settle between Cochrane and Drumheller and my thighs didn't touch the Rockies - or each other. It would be nice to have a chin that didn't hang down to Fort Saskatchewan and boobs that sagged to Red Deer.

Of course, if my weight loss journey fails, I could always move back to Ontario, where most of my body would be in the lake. And we all know how nice it is to be weightless in the water.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Why the grocery store needs a man bench

Nobody with children likes to go grocery shopping.

It's just one of those chores that you cannot avoid - kinda like changing diapers and wiping snotty noses - but without an end in sight. Your children will be potty trained and they'll be able to wipe their own noses, but until they learn to drive, it will be mommy who buys the food. Even then, it's a risk to send a teenager shopping. No doubt the lettuce and cucumber will be replaced with cheetos and pepsi.

Of course, there is one other option. It's dangerous and can have serious consequences. It will cause an uproar in your home and chaos in your kitchen. The end will result will be you'll have to go to the grocery store yourself anyways.

You can send your husband.


I made that fatal mistake - but only once. I wrote down what we needed: milk, apple juice, cheerios and yogurt. I kept it simple so he wouldn't get confused. I also emailed the list to his blackberry in case he lost the little piece of paper. I didn't give him coupons because it would terrify him. I gave him three chances to back out of this onerous task. But he was brave and willing, so I let him.

He called me to ask what brand of apple juice. Then he called to ask what size. Then he called to tell me the yogurt was on special and should he get more than one. "What do you think you should do?" I asked sarcastically. I think that was when things went wrong.

He was gone for more than a hour. He came back with everything on the list, plus another $45 worth of groceries we didn't need. After a heated argument, he vowed he would never do the grocery shopping again.

I decided that next time, we would go together, so he could learn how to follow a list, maximize our budget, and see the difference between good and bad apples.

Another disastrous mistake.

Why do men feel the need to linger in the aisles? I was three aisles ahead of him and he's sauntering through cereal with the shopping cart. My arms are loaded and when I go back to get him, he's mad because I took off!!!

"I didn't know where you went. I hate it when you take off on me," he says.
"Why didn't you come to find me?" I ask.
"How would I find you?"
"You can walk down the main lane of the store and glance down the aisles - isn't that obvious?"
"No"

But it gets better. The rest of the trip went like this:

Him: "Don't we need more of these fruit bars?"
Me: "No"
Him: "But don't the kids eat them?"
Me: "Not for the last two months they don't."
Him: "oh"

Him: "Do you think the kids would like to try nutella?"
Me: "We don't need it."
Him: "But maybe they'll like it."
Me: "Peanut butter is good enough."
Him: "Shouldn't we stay away from peanut butter. I mean what about all the kids with nut allergies?"
Me: "Oh, I didn't think of that. Do you think the hazelnuts in nutella will be less dangerous?"
Him: "Party pooper"

Him: "Can we get some strawberries?"
Me: "They're not in season"
Him: "So they won't be sweet?"
Me: "No, I'm sure they are delicious. But a 2 pint container is $7.99"
Him: "Is that expensive?"

I just walked away humming "just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...."

I resolved to resume doing the grocery shopping without him. Just me and the kids. At least I would get done in under an hour and I would get only what we needed.

As we were heading toward the checkout, it all came crashing down on me.

Mason: "Mama, we get fruit bars?"
Hubby: "hahahahahaha"

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Lies my mother told me

For the last two nights, I have spent 30-35 minutes on the treadmill. I used to hate going down into the basement to work out because it's cold and lonely - but now I love it. It's cold and lonely.

When I'm not watching something on TV, I get time to think and reflect. I'm not big on regret, so I never feel bad for my past, but I find myself thinking about what I learned.


My goodness - 10 years ago I was stupid.

In the spirit of sharing - here a just a few of the lies I've been told.

It's not what you eat, but how much

Ummm...right. Believe me, there were days when all I ate was a plate of wings and a 1/2 a bottle of vodka. I gained 20 pounds in 3 months. Clearly not the right diet for me.

If you excercise every day you can eat what you want

This one was my fault entirely. I misunderstood the concept of "eat what you want". This statement applies only if you want to eat celery, salad and fish.

You'll be happier with yourself once you lose the weight

I admit, I felt great when I was a size four. But as a heavy woman, I never had to deal with backbiting jealously, persistent harrassment and somebody telling me not to eat that or I'll gain it all back. Sometimes happiness can be found at the bottom of a bag of potato chips.

Black is slimming

One of the biggest lies of all time!!!!
When your black pants are size 22 and your black sweater is 2XL, you look exactly the same as if that ensemble was in purple with red polka dots. The difference is that in black you are trying to be invisible; in polka dots you are flipping the bird.

And my personal favorite:

You'd be so pretty if you would just lose the weight

You know, if I had a dime for every time someone said that to me, I could BUY myself pretty. Then I could tell you all to f-off.

As it stands, I think I'm a pretty amazing woman right now and I feel beautiful even when my undies are digging into my waist.

Tuesday, January 9, 2007

If at first you don't succeed

Okay, so it's been 6 months since I added anything to this journal.

I am ashamed.

In the last 6 months, I could have conceivably lost 60 pounds and been so close to my goal. Instead, I put on about 7 pounds (which looks like 20) and I have allowed the dust to pile up on my treadmill.

Well, today I decided to get back on the horse. I spent 35 minutes on the treadmill tonight and it felt great.

It was a good workout. I know my body well enough to know that I have to ease into a program so I can avoid injury, but I found myself working harder than I thought I would.

That's because I found my motivation: The Apprentice in LA.

I was so aggravated with all these people that I just kept moving faster to burn off my pi$$ off. The more they whined and bickered (Trump should have fired them both!!!) the faster I walked. If you watched it, you know what I mean.

In short, here I go again. For the hundreth time, I am going to try to lose weight.

I've stocked the fridge with fat-free yogurt and Crystal Light, so I'm good to go.

I just need to find an irritant for every night of the week. If there's nothing on TV, I guess I can pick a fight with DH. Oh..wait...I got it!!! I'll just call my mother......