The Chocolate Mousse Diet??

I am a Clean Eater, hear me ROAR. Or, watch me shrink? Or be healthy and peppy, and obnoxiously optimistic???

Even a veggie eating freak needs a treat here and there, right? So mine is usually scheduled for Wednesday night when one of the ladies in my group brings a dessert to share. Last night, I was the chef, and I am glad to state that I will not be doing that again for a very long time!

I made a chocolate mousse pie. During the process I probably ate about half a serving just by licking various cooking apparatuses. (Aparati?) Note to self: cook with fewer utensils and bowls and notice how much less you must clean up with your tongue as you work.

It was a lovely creation/heart attack in a pie plate, and the ladies loved it. I had a slice and ate all but one bite of it. I normally never do that, but I was proving a point to myself; I do not have to be a card-carrying member of the Clean Plate Club.

By the time I got home I felt sick. Almost throw-up sick. I couldn't force down my daily salad because I felt so sick, so I went to bed, and decided I'm not making that again, and I may need to cut my weekly dessert portion down even smaller, if I even have one. What's the sense in enjoying five minutes of a sweet, creamy taste, if I'm going to feel so nasty afterward?

So what did the scale have to say about my affair with the mousse??????? I lost that last pound, and I saw an 8 on the tens place, WOOOOHOOOO!!!! I'm in the 180's, I'm in the 180's. I'd be cheering this around my house loudly and wildly, if I weren't trying so hard NOT to give my young daughters a body-weight complex.

Do I credit the mousse with my loss? Heck no. It was all that salad I ate last week :)

Almost Thirty!!

Just one more pound, and I will have lost 30 whole pounds :) The first 20 came off several months ago, and I have fought the recent 10 like a mad woman. But it's worth it, and I'm so thrilled to be coming upon the 180's!! I haven't seen the 170's in a couple of years or so, and I am READY to sail through those and keep on trucking.

What has struck me as interesting since I started my Clean Eating Campaign, is that I am free from having to track, count, calculate, etc. I don't count points or calories anymore. I don't count servings. I really don't have any use for counting. And I love this, because it was getting pretty tedious. I had to do it, or else I'd have gone nuts trying to figure out if I'd eaten too much that day. But now, I eat when I'm hungry, and because the food only tastes good if I'm actually hungry, I naturally stop when I'm full. I do force myself to eat a big salad every day, and I never have done that before, but it's ok. I'm learning ways to dress up my greens so they're palatable.

One of my favorites is a huge, and I mean HUGE, heap of baby greens and romaine. (I literally had to buy an extra large bowl to fit my salads in. If that's not clean, you might catch me eating one out of my Kitchen Aid Mixer bowl. Yes, that big.) The greens are covered with carrot shreds, chick peas, grapes, pine nuts, and cilantro. If I have tomato or avocado around, I'll use that too. Then I use a couple of TBSP of Bolthouse Farms Yogurt dressing, or Newman's Own light vinaigrette. Then I crunch away until I have a clean bowl.

One of my new favorite quick meals for just myself is the Kashi brand Veggie Bake. It's whole grain, with lots of fiber and veggies, and it's pretty tasty. I've lost my desire for cooking, so I'm going for what's fast and healthy, and this hits the spot when I don't have pita with hummus in the house.

To those of you who held the intervention on my behalf the other day, THANK YOU!! I need the encouragement, and you all stepped right up and helped me out. I hope I can be there for others in their time of doubt, need, weakness, and celebration!

Stretch marks, Butt Eating, and Bread Sticks, Oh MY!

Thanks to some wonderful comments on my post yesterday, (and God, of course), last night was a lovely, non-weight-gaining or diet-trashing, dinner with my friends. I was tempted. I waffled back and forth. I looked for a good reason, anything at all, to truly justify poor choices rather than healthy ones. But the health nut in me won, and I was down .6 on the scale this morning!!

I also had a wicked headache this morning, which I haven't faced in a couple of weeks. Food additives, anyone?

So I opened my menu and saw several dishes that I've loved in the past. They were loaded with cheeses, cream, and white-white pasta. Mmmm.

I watched as people picked out what they were going to order. Many were obsessed with what everyone else was having. Could it be that I'm not the only one at this table who is fighting an internal war right now?

I'd read somewhere that I should order first, before I could toss around others' choices and let that influence mine. But that backfired, because one of the other ladies, who is usually very restrictive in what she eats, ordered a bowl of Alfredo sauce as an appetizer to go with her bread sticks before we even got to dinner orders. If she's throwing all caution to the wind, maybe I should too...

In the end, I opted for chicken breasts (not a usual part of my daily fare) with asparagus, tomatoes, and broccoli. I also asked for my salad with the dressing on the side, and pick off all of the croutons. And when it came time for one of the ladies to pass around slices of her homemade chocolate raspberry cheesecake, I accepted a very small one and enjoyed every last little morsel.

I left comfortable, not stuffed, and was hungry by bedtime. Which, reminded me of a couple of conversations that went around the table during dinner:

Somehow we ended up discussing our stretch marks, and other lovely aspects of mothering (we were there for a baby shower). I am not alone in the road map all over my abdomen, apparently.

Then one of the ladies mentioned how she tries to go to bed hungry every night because Oprah said that if we go to bed hungry, our bodies eat our butt's fat cells while we sleep. This was said by one of the thinner ladies in the group. Hmmm, maybe she's thin for a reason??

This struck me because so many of us food-a-holics like to think that we're heavy because of our genes, or bad luck, or a misalignment of the stars. What I'm finding over and over again, is that thin people work at it. Even my ridiculously skinny husband intentionally limits himself on a daily basis.

Above all, I'm patting myself on the back for realizing (FINALLY!) that eating out does not mean that I should gorge myself. And that no food is so special, or "free", or so limited in availability that I must eat it "now or never". So here I head, into my third week of 95% clean eating, and I'm feeling very, very good about it.

Big, Huge, Stinking Bum(mer)

Did my 'weigh myself only once per week' backfire? I stepped on that glorious wretch of a device this morning to find a .2 GAIN!!! What the heck is up with that?

My food was so clean this week. I exercised, I drank water, I ate like a rodent on a rampage. And I was expecting a least a couple of pounds to fall away....Now I'm wondering if I shouldn't just go back to weighing every day; and here's why:

We went to dinner last night at Ruby Tuesdays. I poured over the menu, looking at all of those lovely entrees loaded with cheese, creamy sauces, and tender meats. And I chose the salad bar. THE SALAD BAR. I had 2 or 3 plates loaded with romaine, spinach, chickpeas, soy beans, olives, carrots, peppers, mushrooms, and drizzled with LIGHT dressings. I also ordered their guacamole appetizer, which, by the way, was incredible.

After I was stuffed with salad greens, I ate some of the guacamole. It came with corn chips (I had a couple of hand fulls), salsa, and pico de gallo. It was fabulous, but everyone else was stuffed by the time it came (our server must have thought we wanted it for dessert??) so I probably ate more than I should have, hoping to clean my plate. That darn club won't let me go!

There was just no way I could finish it all, so I ended up packing away about half of it, and they sent us home with a refill of chips.

So the chips were a little salty, and so was the pico. My salad dressings were too, but nothing like the Amy's Tomato soup I had the other day. So, do I get to blame the gain on more salt than I usually eat. Some crazed magnetic pull that effects scale readings in my neighborhood (was there some sort of lunar event recently?). I need something! Anything. To justify this nonsense. Humph. If I had been weighing myself all week, perhaps I would have seen a bit of a loss prior to the salt-scepade.

The worst part of all of this, is that I have a fabulous dinner to go to with my Bible study ladies tonight at the Olive Garden. My plans (prior to my evil-scale-reading-rebellious-thoughts) were to order soup and salad, and then enjoy a small slice of the cheesecake one of the ladies is making for us.

Then I weighed this morning. What do I want now? 10 baskets full of bread sticks all for moi, 3 or 4 bowls full of salad dripping with dressing, the creamiest, cheesiest entree they have, and a HUGE honkin slice of that cake. I obviously need some help. Some prayers. An intervention. A one on one with my Creator. That would be nice :)

I Will NOT get on that scale!!!

I always sleep with some water on my bedside table; thirst can strike at any time, right? Or a fire, or a coughing kid, or insomnia which requires a little squirt of melatonin followed by a good rinse.

My water is serving another purpose now. If I drink some before I get out of bed in the morning, then I render any scale readings (should I lose my resolve to wait until Wednesday mornings) inaccurate. And this, my friends, is perfect for the OCD person in me who won't settle for an off scale reading.

I had to guzzle that water this morning, because I WANT TO KNOW!!!! I tried on some pants I am hoping to wear without looking like a streetwalker. Not yet. I looked in the mirror. Still puffy. I am hunting for encouragement here.

So I am sitting here trying to come up with some NSVs. It turns out there are quite a few:

• When I get out of bed in the morning, my feet don't hurt anymore. It used to be quite painful to start walking around for the day.
• I can wear something other than this one pair of black stretch pants that would fit an elephant (if an elephant so desired).
• I am not hiding as much as I was.
• I was able to traipse all around Disney World while we were there last month and fit all the rides, and enjoy the fun with my kids. This is a priceless memory for me.
• I have been eating out and ordering healthy foods. I have been eating salads galore, and fresh fruits. I haven't touched a hydrogenated fat, artificial color or flavor, or nitrite. Nearly 98% of my calories the last two weeks have been life-giving, disease-fighting foods.
• I still have hope.
• I am exercising reasonably.

I can wait to weigh another 48 hours, right? And although I'm hoping for a nice, big loss, I can cope if it's not, because I know that each day that I live and eat this way, is one more day and another step toward lifelong fitness.

Just a Sliver, Please!

I did it. I went a whole week eating like a crazed semi-vegetarian health nut. All whole grains (in limited quantities), tons of fruits, heaps of leafy greens, nuts, beans, and NO JUNK!!! I'm so proud of myself- and my local sewage system for handling the end results, eh hem.

The payoff? A sweet 6.4 lb loss this week. How cool is that? I know next week won't show such a nice, big loss, but I'd settle for 2 or 3! And the wonderful thing is that I think it can really happen. But we shall see...

Tonight was a test for me. I attend a weekly bible study with a group of fabulous ladies who, for the most part, are free of the food issues that plague me. Each week one of us will bring in a dessert to share. Sometimes fresh fruit shows up too, or like tonight, two different people will bring a treat in. The selection this evening included a home made pumpkin cake with cream cheese icing, and a plate of freshly baked home made chocolate chip cookies.

I watched and silently debated while a friend cut pieces and passed the servings around. I hemmed and hawed. Do I have a little slice and enjoy it? There's real pumpkin in there and that's a veggie. I could pass, and it wouldn't be the end of the world. I have been doing so well. Why mess with success? But it is a special event; it's not like I have a whole cake lying around the house begging me to finish it off, right? Hmmmm. What to do, what to do.

"Kate, would you like a slice?" I was out of time with that question, and I replied,
"It looks so good. O dear. Well..... (still buying time) I'm fighting a cold, and I don't want to cripple my immune system....(more time purchased, hiding many of the real reasons that I am struggling to make a choice). How about a little sliver? Like, thinner than the one you gave Mary?"

And with that, I was served a lovely, thin slice of delicious cake which probably cost me about 100 calories total. I was already hungry again by the time we parted for the night, and came home to a nice bowl of Irish oats with walnuts, raisins, cinnamon, and no sweetener.

And I feel good. I ate moderately. It wasn't extreme. It wasn't damaging. It wasn't ten cream horns, 2 quarts of ice cream, and a week of fast food runs.

It was healthy (not necessarily the cake), my attitude. And I am proud of myself, for the first time in a long time. So here I look forward to another week of ridiculously healthy eating, and next week, when the ladies and I go out for dinner together, I will hunt for something good for my body, and enjoy their company, and go home feeling fed, instead of sickened.

Me, The Bunny Rabbit

It may have appeared that I fell off the face of the blogosphere, but alas, I was just on a wee vacation. Literally. And it was good. Really, really, good. Lots of walking, lots of memory making with our kids, lots of salads, and unfortunately, lots of extra calories.

Then we came home, and I promptly had a mini-nervous breakdown. It preceded some hormonal changes by about a day, so there's one good explanation, but, it was also caused by a stark realization that I have been trying to kill myself with a fork since the age of about 11.

This is a horrible reality to face. For a while, I just felt like I was ruining my figure with my gustatory indiscretions, but to see the science, the studies (I read a detailed book), the PROOF that I'm begging for cancer, heart attacks, diabetes, and joint/bone issues with each and every junk-foody bite was very painful to acknowledge.

And as I am one not to face the pain alone, I promptly woke up my soundly sleeping husband so he could help me cope. He did help me put things back into perspective. We came to the conclusion that I need help. Well, now there's a soo-prise! What shall I do? I'm still thinking about it, but some sort of weight loss support group would be nice.

In the meanwhile, I have faithfully chomped away on an over-abundance (in my opinion) of greenery, nuts, oats, fruits, and small amounts of meaty protein. I haven't weighed myself (except for one little peak this afternoon) in almost a week!! And, although I MISS JUNKFOOD, I feel pretty good about my commitment to the healthy life.

Silver Lining

I struggled a lot last week with scale-based frustration. I am about a month into a tweaked version of my new lifestyle (in hopes to lose more than just one pound each month) and as the scale refused to budge, I became more and more irritated. Why am I burning 600 calories on my treadmill followed by the Torture-Shred, and watching every little calorie that goes past my lips (giving up my "flex" food for the week) only to see a whopping .2 loss on the scale in a week?

That's a big commitment for someone who has enjoyed absolute slothful behavior (my jaw got lots of exercise!) for the last few years, and lots of sugar/fat laden treats at will.

So, how did I respond? By eating horrible food all weekend long, and giving my poor, beleaguered muscles a 4 day siesta.

Was this productive? Nope. I am now re-losing the 4 pounds I gained, which is a great ton of fun, let me tell ya.

Something had to change. Something must, or else I'll repeat this error over and over for the rest of my life, and look forward to retirement one day donning muumuus and 'housecoats'. Lovely.

With so much in life, I think it comes down to perspective. Strategy in thinking, if you will.

• Instead of working out like a maniac on a mission, I can remind myself that my emotional health (elevated heart rates do wonders for depression and anxiety-the latter is a big issue for me) depends upon a good, heart-pumping workout most days of the week. If I take the focus of my workouts from speedy weight loss, and shift it to health and fitness, then I am less likely to feel jilted when my hard work doesn't translate into great gobs of fat loss.
• Instead of feeling deprived when I speed past the fast food joints, I can instead be grateful that I live in a part of the world where fresh fruit and veggies, natural meats, and whole grains are available if I choose to eat them. And as a result of that choice, I can avoid cancer, diabetes, tooth decay, and heart disease to the best of my ability.
• Instead of crumpling into a heap of despair when I don't see a big loss on the scale, I can be grateful that I didn't lose a limb in a car accident this week, which would result in a really big loss on the scale.
• Instead of dreading my daily workouts, I can be grateful that I can workout. I'm not wheelchair bound; I'm not fighting for my children's welfare amid a civil war, or under communism. I'm not working three jobs and juggling the care of my kids as a single mother. I can workout, and I can do it in comfortable clothes, followed by a refreshing shower, and if it's too hot outside, I'm blessed to have access to a treadmill or stationary bike inside, cooled by a powerful fan.
• Instead of feeling stuck in an addiction to food, I can reach out and share hope and encouragement with other strugglers. I am able to connect online, on the phone, and at meetings for other food hyper-lovers :)
• Instead of trying to solve every problem with a binge, I can remember that problems are always worse when I'm overweight. Problems or not, thin and fit is a better way to face adversity.

Speaking of hope and encouragement, yesterday Jen posted a poem which I found so inspirational. I'm thinking of posting a copy over my computer for future reference.

It's Jillian's Fault

She made me do it.

This crazy "Shred" workout video of hers is probably designed to help people lose some inches and fat, but what it really does is trick unsuspecting victims into a form of delayed-torture that produces its debilitating results 12 hours after the "work-out".

Then, the smart victims choose to recover for three days by avoiding all physical activities that might cause the contraction of any bodily muscles shy of the eyeball rotator-thingies (I got a D in anatomy and physiology; can you tell?) and also eating cheesecake. Cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. (The muscles in my tonge and jaw were not compromised.) Lots of cheesecake; and a little fast food tossed in for fun.

What the heck was I thinking??? I kind of know. I was ticked because I hurt myself so much by taking orders from the TV personality who must not realize that if she makes one wrong move, we'll all get an eye full of her nether-regions(The above picture actually is fairly reserved compared to some). Really? Who wears their pants that low? We're all quite aware of her abdominal perfection. Perhaps she's just making really darn sure that we all know that she's not hiding a tummy pooch. I mean, where would it be, if she were? Beneath some razor burn? (Sorry; these ultra-low pants obviously bother me). I'm not jealous. Well, of the belly, yes. Of the partial nudity, no.

I was also full of self-pity because of all the really hard work I've done lately with very little movement in numbers on the scale.

So a few days of unabashed eating have me wondering what the heck I'm going to see on the scale this week. I didn't weigh myself this morning, and I'm beginning to wonder if I should skip the daily WIs, and do it only once each week. Do you weigh daily? Why have you chosen to/not to?

You Might be New to a "Lifestyle Change" If...

See? I didn't call it a "diet". Because it's not, truthfully, so we must stop thinking of it that way. But, I have noticed that there are some tell-tale signs of those of us who are working on changing the food/movement-styles in our lives.

So, you might be new to your lifestyle change if:

• Your typical 45 minute grocery store trip takes you 2 hours (because of all the label reading and trips to return items that you knew shouldn't be in your cart to begin with.)
• You stare at other women's physiques (for comparison purposes-what does she weigh? body-fat %? does she work out? does she need a "lifestyle change" or was she born with a good lifestyle?)
• You try looking distractedly at the ceiling of your car as you drive by your favorite fast-food joints, just to discover that this is an effective way to lose a limb, not fat.
• You experiment with recipes to lower their fat/sugar content, and actually find them palatable. Your non-lifestyle changing spouse, however, won't touch the stuff. (Cheesecake with stevia, for the record, is not so good to people who aren't in starvation mode).
• Your pets begin to look tasty. Where are those clippers?
• You begin to dream in "points values" or "calories". The nightmares begin when the budget has been depleted.
• You find yourself telling the whole world, via a website ending with "blogspot.com" about your fat rolls, sweat stains, and bowel movements (they help, come weigh in day).
• Your kids ask to play the Wii, and you visualize stepping on a scale in front of a stranger for your "WI".
• You give running/jogging a try; not toward a cream puff, or away from a mountain lion, but because it'll free up a couple extra points or calories for your fat-free, sugar-free, Giant Ice Cream Bar.

and last but not least,

• You have hope.

A/C is out, and other excuses...

Our upstairs A/C unit has finally rebelled and died. The guy who's supposed to come to diagnose the problem won't be here until Wednesday, so we get to enjoy the next few hot days here in the southeast with an oven for a bedroom. My treadmill and stationary bike are also upstairs, so I am now going round-3 with myself about how much I really want to get a good, really sweaty workout in today. (Or the next few days, for that matter).

I opened all of the windows last night, assuming that the overnight temperature would drop lower than the 84 degrees my thermostat was registering. We all went to bed with very little on, and left all bed covers at our feet. By 4 a.m., it had actually cooled enough (78, wooohooo!) for me to pull my top sheet over my well-insulated body.

My youngest daughter is a mainstay in our bed, and last night almost changed that. She is one hot little sucker. And she has the propensity to drape her sizzling little legs over me (she's done this since her babyhood). My husband and I spent the better part of the night tossing her back and forth like the hot potato she was. At one point (when I looked over and saw him half-draped off his side of our king sized bed, in an attempt to avoid contact with the spud) I took pity on him, and pulled our personal heater back toward the middle of the bed. I had enjoyed my moments of splayed arms-and legs-cooling, and felt guilty enough to share the wealth of our sleeping real estate.

This entire situation reminds me of the semester I spent in Europe. The family with whom I lived, like most in their country, had no A/C and no screens. The last few weeks of Spring ushered in one heck of a record-breaking heat wave, and I got to decide between being eaten alive by bugs while I slept, or waking up in the morning, medium-well. I chose the bugs, but waited to open the window until after my insect-attracting lights were turned off. This helped a little, but I still had many critters who visited my room at night.

Remembering that time of my life, I find new perspective: be grateful for the screens in our windows, a wonderful family I get to suffer with, and get my rear end on my bike and sweat on purpose. And pray for clouds.

Belly Dancing

That's what my belly does when I ride my recumbent stationary bicycle. Each time a leg comes around, it pops my good abdominal appendage, and it starts dancing! For the record, I would rather be performing the more traditional sort of belly dancing (for my husband's eyes only, of course!), but at least my sorry-chubby-self is working on it!

I have a good forty minutes most days of the week while I'm working up a good sweat, to think about where I am with my weight, food, and body shape. And today I was dismayed to realize that I was right about 200 pounds when I gave birth to both of my children. After they were born, I quickly dropped about 30 pounds, and STILL thought I was a huge mess. "Just look at us now!!!" scream my fat cells.

I hate to be hitting a 'new low' each week, only to realize that only a few years ago, the same weight was a 'new high'. Why couldn't I have come to my senses then???

I'm over it, for the most part. Because moping about what I've done isn't going to get me any further in this journey...so I will focus on the good stuff. I lost this week at my WW weigh in. If I do that each and every week, I will reach my goal eventually, and will work my tail off to insure that the numbers on the scale never creep back up.

Bit Off More Than I Could Chew

And, miracle of miracles, I'm not talking about food!

You know you've done it though. You're out to dinner with someone you're not super comfortable with, and you take a much bigger bite of your meal than you should have, and now you can't chew without showing the other person your wide-open mouthful, so you sit there in a panic: What do I do? Spit it out? Cover my mouth with my hand/napkin while I chew, mouth-wide-open. Can my dining pal tell that I fee like a chipmunk?

Rather than food, it appears that my eyes are not only bigger than my stomach, but also my cardio capacity and muscles. I have been working out on my treadmill, and I have not been milling. I have been seriously treading. So, some idiotic and adventurous part of me that should be shot, decided that I should go for the 40 minute pre-programmed workout that goes up to speeds of 6 MPH and an incline of 10. Yes, and I still weigh almost 200 hundred pounds and have been exercising for almost two whole weeks now....

So the warm-up went well :) and then the machine started going crazy-fast, and inclined like a horse who's rearing might, and I was running and gasping, and felt really stupid for not attaching the magnetic panic cord to my shirt, because who can spare the energy to reach over and reduce the speed or incline, when blinking is chore? And there's no speedy-reduce incline/MPH button. I was using my arms to pump wildly, because without them, this uphill torture just wouldn't work, and now an arm has to be set aside to push the button down something like twenty times to slow the belt to a reasonable speed.

The good news, is I survived, and was able to hit the buttons a sufficient number of times to prevent cardiac arrest. I "finished" my workout at a more reasonable pace, but let the machine finish its up and down incline routine for the remainder of the 40-minute program. At its steepest incline, I wished for some sort of strap to wrap around my back to attach to the treadmill, so I could relax into the hill and just move my legs (kind of like walkers of very large dogs do, when their dogs take them for a walk). But I toughed it out, and burned a healthy 348 calories.

I'll get back to that particular form of machinery-imposed torture in a few months, when I am more likely to be able to handle it. In the meanwhile, I'll be calling the shots on that machine.

What I Will Not Miss

This will serve as a reminder of all that I hated about being heavy when I'm thin and healthy again, with the purpose of helping never forget why I forge on with this lifestyle choice of mine. So here goes:

• I don't care much for my belly roll. It makes my pants look lumpy, keeps me from wearing trendy clothes, and gets in the way when I shave my legs.
• Puffy elbows are not attractive on me. Elbows were meant to be bony.
• My face is bloated, and puffy.
• I am deathly afraid of my picture showing up on various social networking sites.
• I could go the rest of my life without hearing my young kids mention how, "Our mommy is the biggest one in the family, just like our Mama cat is!"
• Weighing more than my husband is humiliating.
• Hesitating to buy life insurance because the rates will be high right now, is probably not such a good idea.
• My rear end is flat, and it's supposed to be round. The extra fat has created a lumpy, boxy appendage that isn't so cute in tighter clothing. But bulky clothing just makes me look bigger. Lumpy or frumpy? Take your pick.
• My liver is probably covered in fat, and my internal fat likely crowds out my abdominal organs.
• If I had to chase down a kidnapper who'd stolen one of my children, I'd probably giggle myself to death before I saved the day.
• Sitting by the side of the pool in my capri pants (because I can't stand the sight of my legs in shorts right now and wearing a suit is enough to give me a cardiac arrest) while the rest of my family plays happily in the cool water, is not my idea of fun. And it's very hot.
• Being afraid of bumping into old friends who've never seen me heavy is sometimes stressful enough to bring on a mini panic attack
• My chest is heavy, bulky, and far too generous for my taste. I miss my lighter mammary glands, and so do my over-burdened bras.
• Crossing my legs comfortably would be nice.
• Running without killing my knees would great too.

I think that should do it for right now. I'm sure I am missing some, so I may add to the list as I remember other things.

What I really look forward to doing, is making a list of all the things I love about being thin and fit when I get there!

The Scale Has Been Defeated!

I won, I won! And now my week of hard work is finally paying off numbers-wise. This, after I ate a horribly salty Marie Calendar's dinner last night, which gave me a migraine, incidentally.

I have saved nearly all of my weekly points up until now, and if I don't eat them by tomorrow, they will disappear. Perhaps if I skip them this week, more of my rear end will disappear instead?!

Yesterday was my day off from working out. My kids have me really busy on Fridays, and I have to get out of the house first thing, so it seems like a perfect choice. I know ladies who get up early (like, with the help of an alarm, gasp!) to work out or get a Bible study done, and I admire them. Not enough to do such a crazy thing myself, mind you. I am perfectly happy doing all of those wonderful things when the sun is high in the sky and smiling brightly at me. No need to get all nutty about it!

My "official" weigh in is on Monday evenings, but I don't know that I'll be giving them as much credit as my first-thing-in-the-morning ones. First, I refuse to starve myself all day to get an accurate number. Nor am I willing to wear the same thing each week. Finally, I am a serious water drinker, and figuring out how much I drank last week in order to keep consistent with this week's amount would be next to impossible. So I know I'll see weird fluctuations, and I'm ok with that. It's the trend in numbers that counts, right?

Belly Flop

If I'm looking for reassurance from my scale that I'm on the right track, and the pounds are just peeling off, then I'm looking in the wrong place.

I hardly ever use the word "perfect" to describe myself or my actions, but I'll be darned if my food and exercise habits the last few days haven't been just that: PERFECT. Has my scale honored me with a confirmation of all my hard word? A little encouragement? ANYTHING?? Nope. In fact, it shows that I've gained.

While the weight loss fanatic in me is going nuts over this, the logical, scientific, reasonable side of me knows that I've probably gained some muscle mass in the last few days, and my sodium intake has been rather high, so I'm probably retaining water.

Plus, what good is fretting about this anyway. What am I going to do? Go drown my sorrows in a milkshake (or 10)? That is akin to coming out of a store in a downpour without an umbrella, and in dismay, throwing myself belly first into a big puddle out of frustration that I may get wet in the rain. Productive? No.

Rather, I could be logical, acknowledge the bummer of getting wet, run to my car, and get on with life.

Kate-Weight-Watching

After a week spent with a dear, wonderful, so-very-sweet friend of mine, I'm back in town, and not much worse for the wear. I was GOOOOOOD with food most of the trip, but the last two days were a bit of a bust. I'm going to focus on those good days though, because when you're me, and you can put on 10 pounds in one week without much effort, slapping on just a couple is a good thing.

Finding that I need a boost and some extra motivation, I have decided to pop into some Weight Watchers meetings for a couple of months, if not for the rest of my life....They are offering one month free (after you pay for the first one; there's always a catch, ya know) so, being a sucker for a good deal, I've printed out my monthly pass, already tracked the protein shake I just drank on my online food tracker, and will spend the next couple of weeks hunting for the best meeting in my area.

I've also started reading a book by Kim Benson. She's a lady who lost over 200 pounds, and she's something else, I tell you. She started her last and finally successful weight loss attempt the same week her father died. If she can do that, I don't see what excuse I can use to wait until "next Monday" to take care of myself by eating foods and getting the exercise that my body and mind need.

Cat on the Treadmill

They're nimble, they're quick, but apparently they're not as smart as we once thought.

My cats each seem to need to figure out on their own, that treadmills have a tendency to shoot an unsuspecting feline across the room when the lady of the house is pounding away on the machine.

While otherwise fine, our boy cat's ego is probably a little damaged. Some good snuggling later ought to cure what ails him.

I, on the other hand, am elated :) I spent about 40 minutes sweating on my electric dust collector, and used a broad range of speeds and inclines to keep up to the beat of one of my old Cranberries albums. I saw my heart rate reach 163 at one point! The readout declared that I burned about 300 calories, which is about twice what I ate for breakfast, so I burned 140 calories of pure fat!!

My first goal is to see 190 on my scale by the end of September, and I am now at least a small fraction of the way there.

My New Head-Band

A special friend of mine is starting a new chapter in her life as she has a Lap-Band installed today (applied, placed, inserted?). "Installed" sounds like she's getting a new kitchen sink put in, but that's the best word I can dig out of my sugar-binge-recovering brain.

SO, not to be outdone, I'm counting today as my first with my new "headband". The Band for my brain. I need a procedure, but the Lap Band isn't an option for me, so this here Yoga Band will have to suffice.

What will my Band do? Remind me that I need to avoid complacency. I need to exercise. I need to re-read the most inspiring advice that makes so much sense when I don't have a Double Stuff Oreo in my clutches.

I'm not starting over. I am done doing that. Plus, I haven't re-gained more than a few pounds, so I will consider the last few binge-eating days as a wake-up call. WAKE UP!!!!

I have also decided that it is not as much fun to lose at a snail's pace. I am setting 10 pound per month goals for myself, and I will be darned if I don't keep them. It can be done; it's been done before by others, and if I have to drag myself onto my treadmill multiple times in one day, I will not sit at this same stupid weight any longer.

With this new resolve in place, I see that being at my goal weight is possible by next swim season, and I will be in that pool, in a new suit, enjoying the water and sun with my kids. I am done sitting on the side (of the pool, of life...). It's time to jump back in, and I'm heading there with my eyes wide open, head(banded)-first.

Flirting with the Arby's Guy

I love my husband and wouldn't knowingly flirt with any other guy, but I fear I sent the wrong message to the young lad manning the drive-thru window at Arby's last night.

I have been BAD the last few days with fast food. I normally avoid the stuff, unless it's a salad. At least the last several months I have, but I had a hankering (for what, I guess I wasn't quite sure), so I popped on a tee shirt and pants, and left on a late evening trip alone for some fat crack.

I really wanted a milk shake from Chick Fil A, but they're good little worshipers and close on Sunday. While I find this heartwarming and wonderful, it really put a wrench in my craving-works, so I settled for a sandwich from Arby's. I don't quite get why my brain thought a roast beef sandwich would be a good substitute for a strawberry milkshake either.

In my lightening fast departure from home, I didn't bother with a bra. It was dark, who'd be looking, right? But then, the bright lights of the upcoming Arby's window spooked me a bit, and I quickly swung my hair, which is quite long right now, over the front of my shoulders on either side to cover my sagging, nipply self. Then I checked my work in the mirror. Then I checked the guy in the window, who was checking me out while I appeared to primp. For him. Uggh.

I grabbed my bag, sure the guy could see up the short sleeve of my shirt, through to my bare left breast, and smiled graciously. Please don't look at my boob, please! But my smile was probably not taken for the pleading for which it was designed, and instead for more flirtation. I sped off in my mini-van, realizing moments later, that I probably looked like I was trying to impress the guy with my mad driving skills and wheels to accompany them.

Humiliated, I grabbed for a bite of my sandwich. Though tasty, it was not a milkshake. So I turned toward the Dairy Queen on the other side of the intersection. But right next door is a McDonald's. They have shakes. I hate McDonald's about as much as I despise Walmart, but I didn't want a stiff shake with a spoon stuck in it; does DQ have shakes? So I swung over to McD's and added chocolate chip cookies to my small vanilla milkshake order. You try to say, "Triple Thick Shake" three times fast.

The cookies were okay, but that shake was a sorry excuse for what I really wanted. So did I drive home, conquered? No. I drove over to Dunkin Donuts. On the way, I decided I really wanted something bubbly. Root beer would have to stand in for Dr. Pepper (my fave) because it was late, and I don't need caffeine helping my thoughts keep me awake at night, so I scanned the drive thru menu. I asked the lady if they had Root Beer. She listed everything off, and Pepsi products were all they had, so I passed, and settled for two glazed donuts.

I munched on my sandwich and cookies, and didn't swallow in time. The Dunkin Donuts lady caught me with food in my mouth while I was there buying more food. At least she didn't think I had a crush on her, right?

I spotted Starbucks as I pulled away from Dunkin Donuts, and drove there, in search of my soda (which could solve the milkshake dilemma) and was politely informed by the girl in that drive thru, that they don't have fountain drinks. Well hmff.

Not to despair, I looked left, and noticed the new Hardee's was open for business, and surely they'd have a soda for me! I drove to the menu and on the window before me was an ad for Bacon Ranch Fries. OOOOH! Did a fast food chain finally realize that we all want Outback's cheese fries right in the convenience of our cars? Bra-less fries, for me!

I ordered some of the fries, and saw they also offered Root Beer. My lucky night! I pulled around, paid and took my food, and sucked down the first sip of my root beer. It was horribly under-syrupped. Ick. I'm not usually a complainer, but the stuff looked pale. I pulled back around, and let them know my problem. They happily offered to replace my drink. I opted for the Dr. Pepper after all; sleep could wait.

On my leisurely drive back home, I ate the rest of the three cookies, took a few bites of a stale donut, drank 4 or 5 sips of the shake, finished the sandwich, and drank half of my Dr. Pepper. The fries were a disappointment akin to receiving new underwear for Chirstmas instead of a toy. Think bacon bits scattered on fries coated with dripping, hot, ranch dressing.

The victory? I didn't use this crazy waste of time, calories, and money as an excuse to run out, first thing this morning for the real thing at Chick Fil A. That'll have to wait until I can justify the expense of 700 calories in my daily budget.

Wee Little Lie

So I don't really have 100 pounds to go until I reach my goal (thank the Lord), but I did back in February. On my 5' 3 1/2" frame, 220 pounds do not look pretty. They don't feel pretty either, and I'm not putting up with it anymore! I've been making this up as I go, but I've been doing something right, because I don't have 100 pounds to lose anymore.

I only have 77. Ugh.

But, I am forever an optimist, and I'm loaded with determination, so if it takes me a decade, I will do it. But more importantly, I will maintain the loss. If/when I post pics, they'll be doctored. I won't airbrush away fat rolls and hail damage, but I will probably chop off my head. I know too many people who do not need to know the intimate details of my life, so anonymity is going to be the name of my game. I may even get really paranoid, and take pictures in a dressing room of myself in clothes I don't own, so my wardrobe won't give me away. Maybe I'll have some big fun, and try on really hideous clothes just to lighten the mood until I get down to my goal weight and can really have some fun in a dressing room.

In the mean while, this mom of three young kids, with some big weight to lose, is going to throw the rest of the brownies away so she can make some headway this month.