Getting my Groove Back

Okay. So... here's the deal.

I am in Week 3 of my "try to ease into it" phase of food management.

The goal is to move my body a little more, and eat a little bit better, without the commitment to a full-on recovery plan, which I know I'm not ready to make.

I have attended 5 consecutive scheduled classes at the gym without a miss. My instructor notices and comments. My runs are coming along, and my distance is getting closer to my previously consistent 4.5 miles.

I am packing salads and eating at least one really healthful meal each day, with lots of fruits and veggies. Still snacking a little too much.

My weight is stable and maybe creeping down at a snail's pace, but the fact that I've stopped the uphill climb is a victory in itself.

My stomach feels puffed up and my muscle-tone is like jello.

It's a game of chance - what will push me over that edge to a commitment this time? A date? A trip? A number on the scale? The unkind three-way mirrors at Nordstrom?

Motivate Me

I'm sheepishly posting this after midnight, as though I can sneak in quietly when no one is around and admit my shortcomings in the dark.

Let's just put it on the line... 10 pounds found their way back onto my body.

I have lots of reasons and excuses. None of them matter.

I'm not sure if I'm really ready to commit to this again, but I'm hoping that a public post will give me a kick in the butt and get me going again.

I'm on the fence - I just know it. What is the magic that moves me?

Yesterday was my son's birthday, and I took the kids to the park for a surprise picnic. While I limited the number of choices, I did not skimp on traditional, junk-food picnic fare. Chips, soda, deli-meat, and the chocolatey goodness of bakery brownies.

We had so much fun, the food ended up being an after-thought, and I'm sure I stayed within my points, even though I had given myself permission to indulge this day.

I went home and talked to a good friend on the phone for hours while I cleaned out one side of my garage so I could fit my new car in it. Before I knew it, it was dark, and I had missed dinner. I had a low-point snack and went to bed.

Today I need to haul some of the garage junk to the dump. This decluttering project isn't just about my body, after all. Letting go of the past... facing my fears... doing something instead of merely thinking about it... that's the way it works, isn't it?

I'm excited to weigh in tomorrow. Should be another loss for my body - another big gain for my spirit.

As stressed as he makes me feel, that's how great I'm going to look!

Shiny and New

Darling Estelle just keeps me going. The vivacious Weight Watchers leader motivates me with every inch of her 4-foot-something body. Today was meeting day, and I lost another 2.5 pounds.

It works if you work it.

I have no doubt now that I will reach my goal this summer. I'm so excited, and I really do feel terrific already.

On Saturday, I went to see an old friend of mine from my former gym. He's a pretty honest fellow, and admits he "has no filter" on his mouth. He hasn't seen me in a couple of years, and despite my weight loss, I still weigh much more than I did the last time he saw me.

He told me I looked great.

I tried to deflect the compliment and insisted I weigh much more now than I did before, but I'm losing steadily and feeling good.

He told me I looked great.

As I tried to let the compliment wash over me and soak in, he went on to say that the last time he saw me, I didn't look so good. But now, he said, I looked "shinier, or something."

I can't think of a better compliment than that.

As stressed as he makes me feel, that's how great I'm going to look.

Weight Watchers - Week 7 Update

On Mother's Day, I did some running - 10 miles worth. I still can't believe it. I hopped on my treadmill, and I just kept going. Five miles in the morning and five in the evening. I feel like a million bucks. I'm, like, a runner now, for godsakes.

I'm down about 13 pounds, and I can see a change. I've taken 4 inches off my waist, and most other measurements are down about an inch. (I didn't have the heart to measure my poor bustline.)

A coworker came into my office yesterday and asked me some questions about my gym membership. I answered, and then said she had been wanting to tell me since she saw me first thing in the morning that I look so great and fresh, and she had decided she wanted to do whatever it was that I was doing! :) Now, that's a compliment!

A side-effect, perhaps, is that my sex drive has gone through the roof, and I'm not even having any. I just feel that "on the edge" feeling almost constantly.

Today I had to add a belt to my jeans to keep them up, and the buckle isn't even making my shirt poke out like I have some alien growth on my abdomen. Woo-hoo!

My attitude, my spirit, my outlook... everything has changed along with my body. It's wonderful and amazing. I realize I still have 20 or so more pounds to go, and I can't even imagine what that will feel like. But, I can visualize it, and I do believe I can do it this time.

As stressed as he makes me feel, that's how great I'm going to look... and feel... and... BE!

It Works if You Work It

I'm thrilled to report today's morning scale showed a full 10 pounds lost since this venture began. This is my fifth week on the program, so I think the habits are starting to stick. I feel terrific.

While the only significant change to my body so far is my smaller breasts, I just look better - in some general, vague, can't-put-my-finger-on-it way. My clothes look nicer. People are commenting on my hair or the pretty color of my sweater. Some say I look well and happy. But in the mirror, my body still looks relatively the same size to me.

I'm not complaining.

Maybe the most helpful tip of all for me in Weight Watchers right now is to make my calories count. I'm eating "filling foods" instead of making meals from 2-point chocolate snacks, just because they're "allowed."

I'm dedicated to putting in the prep time, too. It takes planning and effort to eat healthfully. Since I'm usually starving the minute I walk in the door from work, I try to save a snack for late in the day at the office, and I try to have a big bowl of air-popped popcorn sitting on my kitchen counter most of the time for those "if I don't eat, I'm going to DIE" moments.

My cravings no longer rule me, though I do give in from time-to-time.

I'm happy. I'm proud of myself. And my reaching my goal weight seems very promising this time.

As stressed as he makes me feel, that's how great I'm going to look!

Accountability

My wagon was all over the road this weekend. I had so many moments of utter despair and mindless eating, but I always tried to get back on track as soon as possible.

Today was my day to weigh in.

We have a coupon in our books that we can use to get out of weighing-in. I almost used it, because I knew I had gained weight this week (I have scales at home, of course). Then I decided to be accountable and step up to the plate. I told the receptionist I had a bad week, and to please write down my weight without comment and without telling me how I did.

She said, "What if you didn't gain?"

I said, "I did."

I made it until the end of the meeting, but I had to peek. I gained .2 pounds. Ha. One-fifth of one pound. And I thought I had ruined all my recent success and was ready to chuck the entire program.

Glad I peeked. It's not so bad, and today, I'm riding along quite contentedly, and I'm staying on my program.

Hanging on to the Wagon for Dear Life

Today's an icky day. I should have taken the day off, but I put a co-worker ahead of my own needs and wants, and now I'm fuming. The day started off raw.

I was bored and angry about being on call from 6 a.m. until 10:00 p.m. today, and I released my fury with a vengeance on all my piles of paperwork in the kitchen. Drawers, bags, stacks of hidden paper revealed expired coupons, unopened mail, and a million things to be filed. I can't believe how much I got done.

But then I still didn't feel okay. And, to add insult to injury, I received another court document from my ex that I needed to respond to. So I sat down and typed up an emotional formal response, finally bringing his alcoholism to the court's attention. It was brutal to write, and worse to feel.

I want to eat. I did eat. I haven't counted all my points, and I'm sure I'll conveniently "forget" about some of them that came from my son's Easter stash. Ugh.

I just had a Weight Watchers dinner, and I'm trying hard to hang on. I'm almost finished with my third week, and I just can't blow it now.

Momentum

I made it through Easter without going into a sugar coma, and I had another good weight-loss this week. I'm so excited at the thought of losing this extra junk under my skin.

I'm dreaming of summer and beaches and sun... I'm imagining wearing shorts without fear and going for long bike rides on my weekends without the kids.

I decided not to tell anyone at work about Weight Watchers. I can't wait until they notice. :)

Bye Bye, Boobies

The good news is that I'm doing fantastic on the Weight Watchers plan this week, and I can't wait to weigh in on Monday.

The bad news is that I think all 5 of those pounds disappeared from my bra. Bummer.

Estelle's words have been ringing in my mind all week. She mailed me a hand-written postcard telling me how special I am and encouraging me that I can do this. I believe her (with only a hint of skepticism).

I know the first week is typically a very large weight loss that's mostly water, and that subsequent weeks will not show such drastic results. The rest will be slow... and sometimes discouraging... and I have to hang in there till the end.

I'm sort of afraid to be thin again. I wonder why?

Here We Go Again...

Groan... I'm embarrassed. I can't believe it. How many times can a person start over?

I started back to Weight Watchers on Monday, and I feel determined this time (ha - just like always).

My best friend says diets don't work. But eating my way and just trying to work in exercise when I could just wasn't working for me. I don't know how to eat right. I have to have someone hold my hand and reteach me every single time. My sense of portions gets askew. I become oblivious to what exactly goes into my mouth in a day. I have to start over.

Again.

So, enter Miss Estelle, a darling little Italian woman of 79 - my new Weight Watchers leader. When I first entered the room full of mostly older, very overweight people, I wondered if I could be inspired there. But Estelle is a dynamo, and she gave me my new mantra, "As much as he stresses me out, that's how great I'm going to look!" I love her already.

Estelle held me after class, explained the changes to the program since the last time I visited, and gave me lots of personal tips. I'm doing everything she told me to do. Consequently, the scale is dropping numbers like no tomorrow, and I'm living in the bathroom - just like she said I would.

I feel like I'm wearing a path in the carpet from my office to the bathrooms. I can't even sit through a meeting without squirming. The drive home? Nearly intolerable.

But... it's coming off. Yes, it's coming off.

This morning on the treadmill, I visualized the fat melting off my body, leaving me energized and lean.

I have hope.

It's Not About the Weight

I think I have heard every diet tip on the planet. To name a few:

• Drink lots of water
• Brush your teeth more often
• Chew gum
• Don't eat in front of the television
• Have raw veggies to munch on while cooking
• Don't eat after 7:00 p.m.
• Include a couple of snacks in your day
• Make sure you get healthy oils (olive, canola, etc.)
• Drink your milk
• Avoid caffeine
• Limit sugar
• Limit fat
• Limit trans fats
• Limit carbs
• Stay active
• Don't deny yourself your favorite foods, just limit the quantity

Blah, blah, blah...

I remember sitting in a Weight Watchers meeting one time. Next to me was a man who had lost over 100 pounds, and had kept it off. I was so impressed, I could hardly contain myself. The thought of being that disciplined just astounds me. (Hell, the thought of losing 20 sounds impressive to me.)

The holidays were coming up, and the lecturer had a big calendar in the front of the room. She said, "Let's decide which days we're going to allow ourselves to induldge and eat whatever we like. As long as we stick to only 2 or 3 days over the course of the entire holiday season, we should be fine."

I wondered what planet she came from. I began to cry. If I could decide which days I would overeat, I wouldn't be here, goddamnit.

That's when I knew I really had a problem. And worse, it was a secret. Because people looking at me from the outside would never really know. I'm not obese, though my weight fluctuates like the east-coast temperatures.

It's not about the weight.

It's not about the weight.

It's not about the weight.

I'm going to the gym. Right now. It's that "just put one foot in front of the other" thing.