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.