I am seriously backsliding. And discouraged. And being discouraged feels bad, so I'm pushing aside the discouragement for something that doesn't hurt as bad, like maybe apathy.
Not a great choice, I know.
I am still on the sweets only Saturday and Sunday bandwagon, although I am struggling some with portion sizes, particularly with starches and cheese. But exercising - exercising has been non-existent.
Every morning I wake up and my nose is cold and I snuggle deeper under the covers and say "Maybe I'll run later." And later never comes.
Many sighs.
The number: 252
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Oh Hai
So, yes. Blog. Ahem. I was going to do that.
The "no sugar M-F" rule, though brutal at times, has been going fairly well. Simple rules = kept rules. However, I do my grocery shopping on Saturday (which, as you might have noticed, is the weekend), and so I was in "sugar: ok" mode as I was shopping. So all of my snacks were sugary. (Don't worry, by all I mean "both of the two.") Which worked great for Saturday. And Sunday. Not so much the rest of the week. Must buy non-sugar snacks. Must remember that weeks consist of more than weekends. Must not buy unsalted Saltines unless the rest of the grocery list consists of uber-healthiness. I do not munch, eat or consume unsalted Saltines. I inhale them. I can eat an entire box (that is, 4 tubes) within 36 hours without breaking a sweat or thinking that's abnormal. If given Sleepytime tea, unsalted Saltines and slices of cheddar, I will eat and drink until one of them gives out, regardless of how long that takes. There are some things I have no defenses against. Unsalted Saltines is one of them.
The running? Um, what running. I am going to blame The Husband, a smidge. His new job means he has to leave 15 minutes earlier. And getting up 15 minutes earlier to run? Particularly as the season is changing and making that time darker? It's just not happening. Gotta fix that.
The number: 113.8 kilograms.
Apparently our bathroom scale is set on kilograms. No idea why.
Google says that is 250 pounds.
The "no sugar M-F" rule, though brutal at times, has been going fairly well. Simple rules = kept rules. However, I do my grocery shopping on Saturday (which, as you might have noticed, is the weekend), and so I was in "sugar: ok" mode as I was shopping. So all of my snacks were sugary. (Don't worry, by all I mean "both of the two.") Which worked great for Saturday. And Sunday. Not so much the rest of the week. Must buy non-sugar snacks. Must remember that weeks consist of more than weekends. Must not buy unsalted Saltines unless the rest of the grocery list consists of uber-healthiness. I do not munch, eat or consume unsalted Saltines. I inhale them. I can eat an entire box (that is, 4 tubes) within 36 hours without breaking a sweat or thinking that's abnormal. If given Sleepytime tea, unsalted Saltines and slices of cheddar, I will eat and drink until one of them gives out, regardless of how long that takes. There are some things I have no defenses against. Unsalted Saltines is one of them.
The running? Um, what running. I am going to blame The Husband, a smidge. His new job means he has to leave 15 minutes earlier. And getting up 15 minutes earlier to run? Particularly as the season is changing and making that time darker? It's just not happening. Gotta fix that.
The number: 113.8 kilograms.
Apparently our bathroom scale is set on kilograms. No idea why.
Google says that is 250 pounds.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
New Resolution and Motivation
Life is calming back down from the Weeks of Crazy, although it's been oddly difficult to pick up the pieces. I mean, we had a system, more or less, and then for a couple of weeks the system was trashed, and now it's like there never was any system to begin with, and we have start from scratch with everything. One of those things is the sweets plan. I think it needs to be simpler. (Also, I need to follow the plan instead of just thinking about following the plan.)
New plan: Sweets are allowed on weekends only, with the exception of sweet coffee. No dessert at all, Monday-Friday. None. *Sigh* *Sniff* *Tears*
I have a new motivation to lose weight. I have bought my clothes at Lane Bryant for years, and in general have been very happy with how the clothes are designed for larger women, rather than simply sizing up a design that is meant to flatter a stick figure. However, more recently I've been getting more and more dissatisfied with the quality of the clothing. The fabrics are super-thin and simply don't stand up to normal usage and washing. My dissatisfaction culminated this week when the elastic snapped on a relatively new blouse and I discovered that in addition the other casings were coming undone. That's just poor quality. Unacceptably poor quality.
OK, then. No more Lane Bryant.
I returned the blouse, got my store credit, used it to buy lip gloss and gave the remaining $2* to one of the saleswomen that I am friends with. And then left, wiping the dust from my feet as I did so. (Don't worry, this was just in my rather melodramatic head. I offended no one.)
So now I will need to clothe myself either by the skill of my own hands, which I don't have the time for, or by shopping at stores that think a size 14 is the upper limit.
*Sigh* I am 50 lbs away from being a size 14. I know I've done some good, hard things here (I might secretly like running!) but right now I'm just discouraged and fifty pounds seems impossible.
The number: 256
*This makes it sound like I'm getting bent out of shape over the quality of a $5 t-shirt. Originally the shirt would have cost $23, but because I did not have a receipt, they gave me the sale price of $7, which I understood and was fine with.
New plan: Sweets are allowed on weekends only, with the exception of sweet coffee. No dessert at all, Monday-Friday. None. *Sigh* *Sniff* *Tears*
I have a new motivation to lose weight. I have bought my clothes at Lane Bryant for years, and in general have been very happy with how the clothes are designed for larger women, rather than simply sizing up a design that is meant to flatter a stick figure. However, more recently I've been getting more and more dissatisfied with the quality of the clothing. The fabrics are super-thin and simply don't stand up to normal usage and washing. My dissatisfaction culminated this week when the elastic snapped on a relatively new blouse and I discovered that in addition the other casings were coming undone. That's just poor quality. Unacceptably poor quality.
OK, then. No more Lane Bryant.
I returned the blouse, got my store credit, used it to buy lip gloss and gave the remaining $2* to one of the saleswomen that I am friends with. And then left, wiping the dust from my feet as I did so. (Don't worry, this was just in my rather melodramatic head. I offended no one.)
So now I will need to clothe myself either by the skill of my own hands, which I don't have the time for, or by shopping at stores that think a size 14 is the upper limit.
*Sigh* I am 50 lbs away from being a size 14. I know I've done some good, hard things here (I might secretly like running!) but right now I'm just discouraged and fifty pounds seems impossible.
The number: 256
*This makes it sound like I'm getting bent out of shape over the quality of a $5 t-shirt. Originally the shirt would have cost $23, but because I did not have a receipt, they gave me the sale price of $7, which I understood and was fine with.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
The Cost of Earning Money
Well, what I had thought would be a "push," a time of professional striving combined with a tad of sacrifice/extra effort/very slightly relaxed standards on the homefront, has turned into morass of work, sleep deprivation and frozen pizza. A normal week is about 10 to 15 hours' work, which generally fits very nicely into our home life. The last 2 weeks I have worked over 40 hours each week, with only 3 hours each of non-husband babysitting. The Husband has been very patient and has taken up the slack manfully, but it's been fairly wretched for everyone. Big Bit has started tearing up whenever I put on my shoes and move towards the door.
So, this is another way of saying that there has been NO exercise or food policing for the past few weeks. With the exception of some homemade Reese's, I haven't really fallen off the wagon in a big way, but it's just been catch-as-catch-can for days. So much Chik-fil-A, DiGiorno's, so many cups of Starbucks - in addition to being less-than-ideal food choices, it's been really expensive. Apparently it costs a lot to work a lot.
Which, can I just point out, is craziness, right there.
Another cost is that I really don't think I'm going to make the October 5K. Between this and my sprained ankle, I'm about 3 weeks behind in training. Maybe November?
The number: 251
So, this is another way of saying that there has been NO exercise or food policing for the past few weeks. With the exception of some homemade Reese's, I haven't really fallen off the wagon in a big way, but it's just been catch-as-catch-can for days. So much Chik-fil-A, DiGiorno's, so many cups of Starbucks - in addition to being less-than-ideal food choices, it's been really expensive. Apparently it costs a lot to work a lot.
Which, can I just point out, is craziness, right there.
Another cost is that I really don't think I'm going to make the October 5K. Between this and my sprained ankle, I'm about 3 weeks behind in training. Maybe November?
The number: 251
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Random Wednesday
Random thoughts, explanations, excuses, reports and resolutions:
1. Explanation: about two weeks ago, Big Bit, in an excess of enthusiasm, swept my laptop (his name is George) to the floor, breaking the hinge, power link (not the right term, I mean that plugging it in now requires care and finesse), mouse and speakers. George is now on the isolation ward whenever Big Bit is awake, as further contact would be injurious to his health and he must linger at least until New Laptop arrives and George's memory can be transferred, thus transforming New Laptop into George and George into Empty Computer Shell. (This is particularly interesting if you have been watching as much Dollhouse as I have recently.) Since George takes more time and attention to use in his current state of malaise, blogging has sunk on the list of priorities.
2. Excuse: I have a Very Large Work Deadline on the 28th, and a Really Truly Enormous Deadline on October 5th. Hence, more sinking.
3. Thought: It is really interesting to me how easy it has been to run lately. Not that the running is easy, or even fun, but it is relatively easy to make the decision each morning, 3 days a week, to put on my socks and shoes and go huff/puff/gasp/pant around the neighborhood for half an hour. This is particularly odd considering how much energy I have put in, over the years, avoiding exercising in general and running in particular. (Running hurts. For a long time. And you have to keep running even though it hurts. Why am I still explaining this to you?) However, exercise is a decision you only have to make once. Three times a week, I have to make the decision to run and carry through with it. Dieting is so much harder! You have to make the decision and carry through with it over and over and over. You could have a cookie. No I won't. There's cheese in the fridge. No I don't need any. There's more bread where that came from. No this is enough. Over and over, a dozen times in the same hour, sometimes in the same twenty minutes! Restricting what I eat is so much harder than forcing myself to exercise, but -
4. Report: I have to start actually dieting. I have been going along the last couple of weeks, running my butt off but eating whatever. While I have not fallen into gross excess, I'm clearly not making good decisions because my weight has stayed virtually the same even though I'm burning tons more calories that I have been doing. Sugar is really and truly my downfall. To me, a sweet coffee at breakfast, ice cream at lunch and a (or 2 1/2) brownie(s) at supper sounds reasonable. Basically if it has been more than two hours since I last had sugar (or if the treat in front of me is particularly delicious), I will think that more sugar is reasonable. Clearly rules must be put in place, because logic, she ain't workin'.
5. Resolution: I will eat dessert on Sunday nights and one other week night and I will put the recommended dosage of coffee syrup in my latte. More than that I will not eat. I will leave excess desserts at small group on Sundays or send them to work with The Husband. If I do not see a difference quickly I will also start stepping down the coffee syrup. I have been doing well this week except for
6. Excuse: My birthday. Twice on my birthday I got a dessert because I could, not because I specifically wanted that peanut butter cupcake, that piece of tiramisu. In my defense, the tiramisu was enthusiastically shared by Big Bit and Little Bit, so I don't think I ate more than a third of it. I am undecided whether or not this day "counts" as my week day dessert. I only have one birthday a year and it seems like birthdays and exceptions go well together.
7. Report: Tomorrow starts week 7 of my couch-to-5k program. I am sorry to report that my dear little app has gone off the deep end recently. I ran the 3 5-minute sessions I worried about, didn't die and was congratulating myself on this fact, logging my workout when I saw the next day's workout: 2 8-minute sections. Up until this time, my app has always given me 3 workout periods to adjust to a new level, so I had been fully expecting to spend the week doing 5-minute runs. Fortunately I had the weekend to muster up, and I was able to do it. (But oh! The burn!) I limp back to the house, log the workout, and then see the assignment for the next day: run for 20 minutes.
o.O
The mind boggled, bounced and sank into sweet denial. How the Sam Hill could this stupid, worthless app expect me to run more than TWICE the time it had ever asked me to run before??? I am pretty sure that I had never run that long in my life. Not a trace of hyperbole here, people. I lifted weights in high school for my PE credits and generally slowed the treadmill back down to a walk whenever running started to burn. Which was never more than two minutes. And now - twenty minutes? Not possible. Not at all. Clearly I was going to collapse on the pavement, or maybe break an ankle stepping off the curb in my exhaustion. This was Not Happening.
8. Report: Except that it did. Ahem. And then this morning - twenty five minutes. Cough. Perhaps there's something to this app after all.
The number: 251
1. Explanation: about two weeks ago, Big Bit, in an excess of enthusiasm, swept my laptop (his name is George) to the floor, breaking the hinge, power link (not the right term, I mean that plugging it in now requires care and finesse), mouse and speakers. George is now on the isolation ward whenever Big Bit is awake, as further contact would be injurious to his health and he must linger at least until New Laptop arrives and George's memory can be transferred, thus transforming New Laptop into George and George into Empty Computer Shell. (This is particularly interesting if you have been watching as much Dollhouse as I have recently.) Since George takes more time and attention to use in his current state of malaise, blogging has sunk on the list of priorities.
2. Excuse: I have a Very Large Work Deadline on the 28th, and a Really Truly Enormous Deadline on October 5th. Hence, more sinking.
3. Thought: It is really interesting to me how easy it has been to run lately. Not that the running is easy, or even fun, but it is relatively easy to make the decision each morning, 3 days a week, to put on my socks and shoes and go huff/puff/gasp/pant around the neighborhood for half an hour. This is particularly odd considering how much energy I have put in, over the years, avoiding exercising in general and running in particular. (Running hurts. For a long time. And you have to keep running even though it hurts. Why am I still explaining this to you?) However, exercise is a decision you only have to make once. Three times a week, I have to make the decision to run and carry through with it. Dieting is so much harder! You have to make the decision and carry through with it over and over and over. You could have a cookie. No I won't. There's cheese in the fridge. No I don't need any. There's more bread where that came from. No this is enough. Over and over, a dozen times in the same hour, sometimes in the same twenty minutes! Restricting what I eat is so much harder than forcing myself to exercise, but -
4. Report: I have to start actually dieting. I have been going along the last couple of weeks, running my butt off but eating whatever. While I have not fallen into gross excess, I'm clearly not making good decisions because my weight has stayed virtually the same even though I'm burning tons more calories that I have been doing. Sugar is really and truly my downfall. To me, a sweet coffee at breakfast, ice cream at lunch and a (or 2 1/2) brownie(s) at supper sounds reasonable. Basically if it has been more than two hours since I last had sugar (or if the treat in front of me is particularly delicious), I will think that more sugar is reasonable. Clearly rules must be put in place, because logic, she ain't workin'.
5. Resolution: I will eat dessert on Sunday nights and one other week night and I will put the recommended dosage of coffee syrup in my latte. More than that I will not eat. I will leave excess desserts at small group on Sundays or send them to work with The Husband. If I do not see a difference quickly I will also start stepping down the coffee syrup. I have been doing well this week except for
6. Excuse: My birthday. Twice on my birthday I got a dessert because I could, not because I specifically wanted that peanut butter cupcake, that piece of tiramisu. In my defense, the tiramisu was enthusiastically shared by Big Bit and Little Bit, so I don't think I ate more than a third of it. I am undecided whether or not this day "counts" as my week day dessert. I only have one birthday a year and it seems like birthdays and exceptions go well together.
7. Report: Tomorrow starts week 7 of my couch-to-5k program. I am sorry to report that my dear little app has gone off the deep end recently. I ran the 3 5-minute sessions I worried about, didn't die and was congratulating myself on this fact, logging my workout when I saw the next day's workout: 2 8-minute sections. Up until this time, my app has always given me 3 workout periods to adjust to a new level, so I had been fully expecting to spend the week doing 5-minute runs. Fortunately I had the weekend to muster up, and I was able to do it. (But oh! The burn!) I limp back to the house, log the workout, and then see the assignment for the next day: run for 20 minutes.
o.O
The mind boggled, bounced and sank into sweet denial. How the Sam Hill could this stupid, worthless app expect me to run more than TWICE the time it had ever asked me to run before??? I am pretty sure that I had never run that long in my life. Not a trace of hyperbole here, people. I lifted weights in high school for my PE credits and generally slowed the treadmill back down to a walk whenever running started to burn. Which was never more than two minutes. And now - twenty minutes? Not possible. Not at all. Clearly I was going to collapse on the pavement, or maybe break an ankle stepping off the curb in my exhaustion. This was Not Happening.
8. Report: Except that it did. Ahem. And then this morning - twenty five minutes. Cough. Perhaps there's something to this app after all.
The number: 251
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Does Fear Burn Calories?
I am seriously wigging out, y'all.
Tomorrow, according to my Couch-to-5k app, I will be doing 5 minutes of jogging at a time. Three times. There are no smaller amounts of jogging than 5 minutes in this workout.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Do you know how bone-crushingly slow my jog becomes when I'm in the last 2 minutes of a 5-minute jog? Aenemic hermit crabs would out-run me. The whole world narrows to the burn in my calves and my mind gasps out Dory's motto with each step: Just. Keep. Swim. -Ing. Just. Keep. Swim. -Ing.
I know there are some of you who jog this much at a time. Some of you (gasp!) might even jog ten minutes at a time. I am simply not there yet. At all. In any way. There are lots of steps between me and there. Tomorrow is just another step. Just another step. Just another ooo-maybe-I'll-wake-up-with-stomach-flu totally scary step.
The number: 254
Tomorrow, according to my Couch-to-5k app, I will be doing 5 minutes of jogging at a time. Three times. There are no smaller amounts of jogging than 5 minutes in this workout.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Do you know how bone-crushingly slow my jog becomes when I'm in the last 2 minutes of a 5-minute jog? Aenemic hermit crabs would out-run me. The whole world narrows to the burn in my calves and my mind gasps out Dory's motto with each step: Just. Keep. Swim. -Ing. Just. Keep. Swim. -Ing.
I know there are some of you who jog this much at a time. Some of you (gasp!) might even jog ten minutes at a time. I am simply not there yet. At all. In any way. There are lots of steps between me and there. Tomorrow is just another step. Just another step. Just another ooo-maybe-I'll-wake-up-with-stomach-flu totally scary step.
The number: 254
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Hello Again
No, I did not fall into a black hole.
2 weeks ago, I was jogging around a park's gravel path (which I don't really recommend, really boring) and there was a root. I had seen and sidestepped this root each of the previous 5 times I had gone around the track, but this time I was glancing at my phone and missed it. Lurching sprawl, bruised knee, sprained ankle. It turned all kinds of pretty colors.
I got up and walked the distance from where I was to my car and quickly concluded that further running that day was out. Even just finishing out the time walking around the track was out. So home I went and ice I got. Surely the next day - no. Or the next - no. Here we are, two weeks later and it's just barely strong enough to run on.
I can't tell you how frustrating it is to resolve to run, muster the energy and will to run and then not be able to run. It actually made me look forward to jogging Friday.
Until I started, anyway.
2 weeks ago, I was jogging around a park's gravel path (which I don't really recommend, really boring) and there was a root. I had seen and sidestepped this root each of the previous 5 times I had gone around the track, but this time I was glancing at my phone and missed it. Lurching sprawl, bruised knee, sprained ankle. It turned all kinds of pretty colors.
I got up and walked the distance from where I was to my car and quickly concluded that further running that day was out. Even just finishing out the time walking around the track was out. So home I went and ice I got. Surely the next day - no. Or the next - no. Here we are, two weeks later and it's just barely strong enough to run on.
I can't tell you how frustrating it is to resolve to run, muster the energy and will to run and then not be able to run. It actually made me look forward to jogging Friday.
Until I started, anyway.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Late Night Reading
When my sister was in college, she and her two best friends were rooming together. They also had a fourth roommate. Her name was Shauna. Actually, her name was Shauna Niequist. They read one of her books, Bittersweet, aloud on a road trip and they would frequently quote her to each other and sometimes the final word in a discussion would be, "Well, Shauna says ..."
Me, I never understood the hype. I have always enjoyed fiction more than non-fiction, and a book of essays didn't seem particularly appealing. Did I mention Bittersweet is about miscarriage, which seemed an odd topic for three young girls to seize upon? I just didn't get it, and allowed my sister to chatter on about Shauna without feeling the need to really understand. She was happy, I was ignorant, that was fine.
Until.
Last night, spending the night with my parents, I forgot to take my Kindle up to bed. I must read something for at least 60 seconds before going to sleep, so I cast about and came up with Bread and Wine, by Shauna Niequist. It was late, and I expected to read for a minute and then go to sleep.
At 12:45, I texted my sister: "I am reading Bread and Wine. I don't want to stop. Ever."
Shortly after there were dangerous waking-sounds from the buggles, and I was forced to turn off the light, which was probably for the best.
Shauna Niequist (I don't "know" her as well as my sister, so I should probably not presume to refer to her by her first name.) writes about food the way I hope to one day. As something to be relished, celebrated, even indulged in. Food is worth the effort. The need for food is an honest one, and not something shaming. She talks about the conversations one has over a table of food and how we use food to express congratulations or sympathy for each other.
Reading this book, I realized that I have been thinking of food the wrong way. I have been thinking that I love food too much, that I have made it an idol (that's probably true), that the answer is to love food less.
I don't want to love food less. Food is awesome. Eating it is even better. I love cooking food, eating food, serving food to others. But what I have been doing hasn't been loving food. It has been craving it. Stuffing more and more of it down, down, down. Because if one brownie is good, four are the best. If the potato salad is good, it should be good enough to eat two cups of it at a sitting. If your husband has spoken sharply to you, serving him chocolate cake will make him love you again. If he doesn't eat it, then you should eat all of it, the whole thing, and you won't be sad for as long as you are scooping, chewing, swallowing. You should never consider what else you've eaten that day - this moment is the most important, and this moment you really need a 5th ice cream sandwich to go on living.
None of this is true.
I am going to say that again, because in this moment I believe it and I am afraid that it will slip away by tomorrow.
None of this is true.
None of this is true.
NONE OF THIS IS TRUE.
Me, I never understood the hype. I have always enjoyed fiction more than non-fiction, and a book of essays didn't seem particularly appealing. Did I mention Bittersweet is about miscarriage, which seemed an odd topic for three young girls to seize upon? I just didn't get it, and allowed my sister to chatter on about Shauna without feeling the need to really understand. She was happy, I was ignorant, that was fine.
Until.
Last night, spending the night with my parents, I forgot to take my Kindle up to bed. I must read something for at least 60 seconds before going to sleep, so I cast about and came up with Bread and Wine, by Shauna Niequist. It was late, and I expected to read for a minute and then go to sleep.
At 12:45, I texted my sister: "I am reading Bread and Wine. I don't want to stop. Ever."
Shortly after there were dangerous waking-sounds from the buggles, and I was forced to turn off the light, which was probably for the best.
Shauna Niequist (I don't "know" her as well as my sister, so I should probably not presume to refer to her by her first name.) writes about food the way I hope to one day. As something to be relished, celebrated, even indulged in. Food is worth the effort. The need for food is an honest one, and not something shaming. She talks about the conversations one has over a table of food and how we use food to express congratulations or sympathy for each other.
Reading this book, I realized that I have been thinking of food the wrong way. I have been thinking that I love food too much, that I have made it an idol (that's probably true), that the answer is to love food less.
I don't want to love food less. Food is awesome. Eating it is even better. I love cooking food, eating food, serving food to others. But what I have been doing hasn't been loving food. It has been craving it. Stuffing more and more of it down, down, down. Because if one brownie is good, four are the best. If the potato salad is good, it should be good enough to eat two cups of it at a sitting. If your husband has spoken sharply to you, serving him chocolate cake will make him love you again. If he doesn't eat it, then you should eat all of it, the whole thing, and you won't be sad for as long as you are scooping, chewing, swallowing. You should never consider what else you've eaten that day - this moment is the most important, and this moment you really need a 5th ice cream sandwich to go on living.
None of this is true.
I am going to say that again, because in this moment I believe it and I am afraid that it will slip away by tomorrow.
None of this is true.
None of this is true.
NONE OF THIS IS TRUE.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Excuses
Exercise: Erm none. Except for carrying two very heavy children in and out of cars and up and down stairs
Excuse: The Husband had to go to work early, so I would have to get up at 6:30 to run (so not happening). I had firmish plans to run before supper, but then there was rain ... and picking The Husband up from work ... and making supper ... and carpet pulling ... and ...
Breakfast: grande coffee frappechino (btw, spell check? That is so totally a word. I'm not sure how it's spelled ... but it's totally a word), 1 1/2 everything bagels, plain
Excuse: The Husband had to go to work early. It "made the most sense" to get breakfast in between dropping him off and when Aldi (best grocery store ever) opened. And let's face it. I could have done much, much worse than a frappechino and bagels.
Lunch: Hm. Good question. I think ... a largish piece of almond cake and 1/2 a piece of canteloupe? Maybe?
Excuse: I had an appointment right at lunch, which meant that everything got scrambled. Fortunately Big Bit had been eating animal crackers all morning, so he was good to go. Unfortunately, Little Bit ate about as much as I did (proportionally) so he'll probably want to nurse all night to make up for it. Also, almond cake really isn't that sweet. Practically doesn't even count.
Supper: 4 egg cups and a mug of Ghirardelli hot chocolate.
Excuse: Actually - none. This meal was defensible, I feel. Yes, 4 eggs is a bit much, but I hadn't eaten lunch to speak of, and you bake them in muffin pans lined with ham, so there's no extra butter involved. They were delicious. Highly recommend. The Ghirardelli hot chocolate was likewise delicious and was savored by The Husband, Big Bit and myself. Big Bit's joy in finding (warm) hot chocolate in his bottle instead of milk was particularly heart-warming.
The number: 260
Excuse: The Husband had to go to work early, so I would have to get up at 6:30 to run (so not happening). I had firmish plans to run before supper, but then there was rain ... and picking The Husband up from work ... and making supper ... and carpet pulling ... and ...
Breakfast: grande coffee frappechino (btw, spell check? That is so totally a word. I'm not sure how it's spelled ... but it's totally a word), 1 1/2 everything bagels, plain
Excuse: The Husband had to go to work early. It "made the most sense" to get breakfast in between dropping him off and when Aldi (best grocery store ever) opened. And let's face it. I could have done much, much worse than a frappechino and bagels.
Lunch: Hm. Good question. I think ... a largish piece of almond cake and 1/2 a piece of canteloupe? Maybe?
Excuse: I had an appointment right at lunch, which meant that everything got scrambled. Fortunately Big Bit had been eating animal crackers all morning, so he was good to go. Unfortunately, Little Bit ate about as much as I did (proportionally) so he'll probably want to nurse all night to make up for it. Also, almond cake really isn't that sweet. Practically doesn't even count.
Supper: 4 egg cups and a mug of Ghirardelli hot chocolate.
Excuse: Actually - none. This meal was defensible, I feel. Yes, 4 eggs is a bit much, but I hadn't eaten lunch to speak of, and you bake them in muffin pans lined with ham, so there's no extra butter involved. They were delicious. Highly recommend. The Ghirardelli hot chocolate was likewise delicious and was savored by The Husband, Big Bit and myself. Big Bit's joy in finding (warm) hot chocolate in his bottle instead of milk was particularly heart-warming.
The number: 260
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Monday's Lesson
The lesson of this week is that it is definitely easier to go ahead and run in the early morning than to try to fit it in somewhere else where it doesn't really go. Monday morning The Husband had to leave early for work, which means that I would have to have gotten up super early to go running while he was still home with the kiddos and, faced with a gray morning and buzzing alarm clock, I told him "I'll go running tonight instead."
When I woke up more fully, I knew that running after supper wasn't going to work. We both had big to-do lists for the evening, and shoehorning in a 30-minute run (before dark) and a shower just wasn't going to happen.
So I did it in our backyard.
It was not very pretty. I'm sure that Big Bit thought I had lost my mind as I paced around our yard and bobbed up and down the cement walkway with the world's slowest jog. I felt fortunate that we rarely see our neighbors. It was a little embarrassing, particularly to keep doing it for so long. But I did it anyway and it wasn't just a token gesture - I was sweating and my calves were burning by the end, so all's well, etc.
Wednesday morning, needless to say, I pulled myself out of bed on time (or roughly thereabouts) and took myself jogging.
The number: 254
When I woke up more fully, I knew that running after supper wasn't going to work. We both had big to-do lists for the evening, and shoehorning in a 30-minute run (before dark) and a shower just wasn't going to happen.
So I did it in our backyard.
It was not very pretty. I'm sure that Big Bit thought I had lost my mind as I paced around our yard and bobbed up and down the cement walkway with the world's slowest jog. I felt fortunate that we rarely see our neighbors. It was a little embarrassing, particularly to keep doing it for so long. But I did it anyway and it wasn't just a token gesture - I was sweating and my calves were burning by the end, so all's well, etc.
Wednesday morning, needless to say, I pulled myself out of bed on time (or roughly thereabouts) and took myself jogging.
The number: 254
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Monday
So, I survived ...
No, the radio silence was not me recovering from major injury or heat exhaustion. Just an overabundance of everyday life going on, particularly as regards, as The Husband would say, "our buggle infestation."* The couch to 5k app is very helpful, and the whole thing seems well designed. I sweated, I burned, I gasped, I puffed, but I didn't actually die, or think I was going to die, and for me that was an unexpected bonus. I was totally expecting the last third to be a miserable, slogging mess, but it wasn't. It wasn't fun, but it was doable.
I came home to awake and dressed children and husband, took a lovely shower, and continued on with a very full day. Monday for us is grocery day, which, with the chirrens, is a fairly drawn-out process. Which meant that eating ... well ... was irregular. After coming back from running, I drank water but didn't eat anything (I know, bad Libby!) and off we went to take The Husband to work. I assumed that the buggles and I could go to the bakery section of the grocery store and get some muffins or something, so I wasn't bothered. However, breakfast had been put away. At 9 in the morning. Lunch, complete with baked potatoes and pasta salad, was spread out. Deciding against pasta salad at 9am, we pushed on. To Starbucks, where I had a grande coffee frappuccino and most of a piece of pumpkin bread. (Big Bit ate several bites.) Lunch, post-grocery trip was (I cringe to say it) mac and cheese from a box. Big Bit was ecstatic, and poured half of his into the hidden recesses of our coffee table/game night table. Dinner was bean soup and buttered wheat bread, which I felt virtuous about whenever I wasn't thinking about the mac and cheese for lunch. After dinner I made a very delicious concoction, a cross between brownies and pecan pie. Highly recommend, but not in the portions I at it in. I ate a full cereal bowl's worth and felt sickish afterwards. And then embarrassed - who eats until they actually get sick? And then sick again.
So.
Definitely a mixed bag there. And somewhat characteristic of the rest of this week. The running (if you can make a judgment from only two days) seems to be a good choice, but I'm definitely going to have to get the eating under control. Or rather, the choice making. This week in particular, it seems like I am helpless against any sweet option. If it is there, I will eat it. Even if this means plopping down on the floor at 9:30 am with Big Bit and the pecan pie brownie pan and two forks.
It would seem that I clearly need to place some limits on sugar, but what kind? How much? Start harsh or ease into it?
The number: 260 :-(
*Somewhere back in the annals of time, we started attaching "-bug" to our children's names, and now that there are two of them, they are, collectively, "the buggles." Buggle infestation in our house usually manifests in all the books in the the lower half of the bookshelves being dumped on the floor, or toys being cunningly positioned so as to cripple the parent who runs into/steps on/trips over the toy.
No, the radio silence was not me recovering from major injury or heat exhaustion. Just an overabundance of everyday life going on, particularly as regards, as The Husband would say, "our buggle infestation."* The couch to 5k app is very helpful, and the whole thing seems well designed. I sweated, I burned, I gasped, I puffed, but I didn't actually die, or think I was going to die, and for me that was an unexpected bonus. I was totally expecting the last third to be a miserable, slogging mess, but it wasn't. It wasn't fun, but it was doable.
I came home to awake and dressed children and husband, took a lovely shower, and continued on with a very full day. Monday for us is grocery day, which, with the chirrens, is a fairly drawn-out process. Which meant that eating ... well ... was irregular. After coming back from running, I drank water but didn't eat anything (I know, bad Libby!) and off we went to take The Husband to work. I assumed that the buggles and I could go to the bakery section of the grocery store and get some muffins or something, so I wasn't bothered. However, breakfast had been put away. At 9 in the morning. Lunch, complete with baked potatoes and pasta salad, was spread out. Deciding against pasta salad at 9am, we pushed on. To Starbucks, where I had a grande coffee frappuccino and most of a piece of pumpkin bread. (Big Bit ate several bites.) Lunch, post-grocery trip was (I cringe to say it) mac and cheese from a box. Big Bit was ecstatic, and poured half of his into the hidden recesses of our coffee table/game night table. Dinner was bean soup and buttered wheat bread, which I felt virtuous about whenever I wasn't thinking about the mac and cheese for lunch. After dinner I made a very delicious concoction, a cross between brownies and pecan pie. Highly recommend, but not in the portions I at it in. I ate a full cereal bowl's worth and felt sickish afterwards. And then embarrassed - who eats until they actually get sick? And then sick again.
So.
Definitely a mixed bag there. And somewhat characteristic of the rest of this week. The running (if you can make a judgment from only two days) seems to be a good choice, but I'm definitely going to have to get the eating under control. Or rather, the choice making. This week in particular, it seems like I am helpless against any sweet option. If it is there, I will eat it. Even if this means plopping down on the floor at 9:30 am with Big Bit and the pecan pie brownie pan and two forks.
It would seem that I clearly need to place some limits on sugar, but what kind? How much? Start harsh or ease into it?
The number: 260 :-(
*Somewhere back in the annals of time, we started attaching "-bug" to our children's names, and now that there are two of them, they are, collectively, "the buggles." Buggle infestation in our house usually manifests in all the books in the the lower half of the bookshelves being dumped on the floor, or toys being cunningly positioned so as to cripple the parent who runs into/steps on/trips over the toy.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
O. M. G.
I'm going to run a 5k.
OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod.
What the hell do I think I'm doing? I have never in my entire life done anything remotely similar. In highschool, the two P.E. credits that were required nearly sank me. I reluctantly did half a credit each year, going to the Y and working out. In college P.E., when we were supposed to walk and then run and take our pulse, I got out on a technicality. I wrote a research paper on my medical issues (Conversion Disorder with Myoclonic Episodes, aren't you glad you asked?) instead of a semester's worth of exercising.
Yet here I am.
I have bought a "Couch to 5k" app for my phone, and my sister has agreed to run with me. We are going to run a 5k at Oktoberfest. The Husband and I are going to get up at 7am M-F, and MWF I am going to go "run" and he will look after the kids. TR (that's Tuesday-Thursday) I am going to cook breakfast for him. The Husband's dearest wish in this world is hot biscuits and bacon for breakfast, and we have never really embraced a lifestyle that required us to get up early enough to cook breakfast on a workday. So everybody wins.
O. M. G.
This appears to be happening.
OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod.
What the hell do I think I'm doing? I have never in my entire life done anything remotely similar. In highschool, the two P.E. credits that were required nearly sank me. I reluctantly did half a credit each year, going to the Y and working out. In college P.E., when we were supposed to walk and then run and take our pulse, I got out on a technicality. I wrote a research paper on my medical issues (Conversion Disorder with Myoclonic Episodes, aren't you glad you asked?) instead of a semester's worth of exercising.
Yet here I am.
I have bought a "Couch to 5k" app for my phone, and my sister has agreed to run with me. We are going to run a 5k at Oktoberfest. The Husband and I are going to get up at 7am M-F, and MWF I am going to go "run" and he will look after the kids. TR (that's Tuesday-Thursday) I am going to cook breakfast for him. The Husband's dearest wish in this world is hot biscuits and bacon for breakfast, and we have never really embraced a lifestyle that required us to get up early enough to cook breakfast on a workday. So everybody wins.
O. M. G.
This appears to be happening.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Green Eggs and ... Oatmeal?
Pro tip: you can hide a cube of frozen spinach in a large bowl of oatmeal and it will be practically indiscernible (other than the fact that your oatmeal is now green). It probably helps that, having been pulverized in the blender, there are no bits that get stuck in your teeth.
I don't know about you, but any day I can get in some dark green leafy vegetable without really noticing is a win in my book. It is something of a joke (ha ha, it is to laugh ...) in my husband's family that I do not eat green vegetables. This is untrue. I will happily eat my weight in green bell peppers, cucumbers, and spinach-mixed-with-any-kind-of-melted-cheese. Pretty much all others are suspect, though.
This week I have been avoiding thinking about eating, weight and weight-losing. I feel like this particular week that's ok. Last Sunday The Husband and I had a major heart to heart, which resulted in several changes about the way we run our little home, including, now, a husband-wife Bible time at night after the kiddos say goodnight. (woot! woot!) There were several gut-wrenching, shamefully petty things (why is it that the gut-wrenching is often also petty?) that I admitted to and am trying to change, with modest success. So I feel like, even though I haven't been monitoring my intake well (there's been a fair bit of sugar going down the hatch), my energies have been focused on some pretty positive changes for me and mi familias (no idea why that came out in Spanish), and I'm definitely going to cut myself some slack.
The number: 258
Go forth and eat green oatmeal, mis amigos!
I don't know about you, but any day I can get in some dark green leafy vegetable without really noticing is a win in my book. It is something of a joke (ha ha, it is to laugh ...) in my husband's family that I do not eat green vegetables. This is untrue. I will happily eat my weight in green bell peppers, cucumbers, and spinach-mixed-with-any-kind-of-melted-cheese. Pretty much all others are suspect, though.
This week I have been avoiding thinking about eating, weight and weight-losing. I feel like this particular week that's ok. Last Sunday The Husband and I had a major heart to heart, which resulted in several changes about the way we run our little home, including, now, a husband-wife Bible time at night after the kiddos say goodnight. (woot! woot!) There were several gut-wrenching, shamefully petty things (why is it that the gut-wrenching is often also petty?) that I admitted to and am trying to change, with modest success. So I feel like, even though I haven't been monitoring my intake well (there's been a fair bit of sugar going down the hatch), my energies have been focused on some pretty positive changes for me and mi familias (no idea why that came out in Spanish), and I'm definitely going to cut myself some slack.
The number: 258
Go forth and eat green oatmeal, mis amigos!
Thursday, July 11, 2013
With Extra Foam on Top
I am in the habit of dropping by Starbucks two or three times a week. Particularly on mornings when I have taken The Husband to the office so that I have the car, I like to pop in and grab a latte or a coffee frappuccino and maybe a bite of bagel or pumpkin bread (oh, their pumpkin bread!) to share with Big Bit. It is a lovely way to start the morning and I don't know anywhere else where you can get a non-greasy breakfast through a drive-through window.
Trouble is, it's expensive. A grande latte is $3.10 + flavoring is $3.65 + tax is about $4.10. Now, there are some days, when it seems like a mocha latte is literally all that stands between me and the ruin and destruction of all I hold dear, and $4.10 isn't that much to pay for staving off Armageddon. But other days, when I just need something caffeinated and hot and it didn't make sense to fire up the coffee pot at home just for one cup, it's a smidge painful. Actually, $4.10 isn't so painful, but when you add two pieces of pumpkin bread ($4.50) plus tax (call it $0.55) that means that your coffee bill for the week is going to be pushing twenty-five bucks and that, my friends, is painful. Particularly when your husband makes about as much as a high school teacher.
Enter my lovely friend, the espresso pot. The Husband got me this one (I think) last Christmas and a lovely milk frother to go with it. They've been gathering dust for a while, but now we are definitely making up for lost time.
Libby's Recipe for a Very Large Latte
4 tsp coffee syrup (optional)
1/2 cup espresso
2 1/2 cups hot milk*
Pour ingredients in order into a very large mug, or two medium-sized ones.
*To froth your milk, heat your milk in a heavy saucepan on about medium or a little higher. When the milk is hot but boiling, stir gently with a frother or whisk vigorously with a whisk until you have a lot of foam. To pour, hold the foam back with a spoon and pour in the hot milk, and then spoon the foam on top.
I use Cafe Bustelo espresso, and it would appear that I am getting about 10 pots from 10 oz. A 10-oz can at Walmart cost about $5. (Apparently you can get it much cheaper on amazon, but I haven't done that yet.) So a pot's worth is $0.50.My pot makes about a cup of espresso, so if I just reuse the second half cup the next day (which I've done and can't really tell a difference), it's $0.25 per latte.
I use caramel coffee syrup from Target, which cost about $6. Four teaspoons of that cost about $0.33.
Milk costs about $3 per gallon, and so 2 1/2 cups of it cost about $0.47
So, my much-bigger-than-a-Starbucks-grande latte costs me $1.05, and I can tone down the sugar if I want, or use sugar-free syrup, and get mountains of foam that would never fit in a Starbucks coffee cup.
Trouble is, it's expensive. A grande latte is $3.10 + flavoring is $3.65 + tax is about $4.10. Now, there are some days, when it seems like a mocha latte is literally all that stands between me and the ruin and destruction of all I hold dear, and $4.10 isn't that much to pay for staving off Armageddon. But other days, when I just need something caffeinated and hot and it didn't make sense to fire up the coffee pot at home just for one cup, it's a smidge painful. Actually, $4.10 isn't so painful, but when you add two pieces of pumpkin bread ($4.50) plus tax (call it $0.55) that means that your coffee bill for the week is going to be pushing twenty-five bucks and that, my friends, is painful. Particularly when your husband makes about as much as a high school teacher.
Enter my lovely friend, the espresso pot. The Husband got me this one (I think) last Christmas and a lovely milk frother to go with it. They've been gathering dust for a while, but now we are definitely making up for lost time.
Libby's Recipe for a Very Large Latte
4 tsp coffee syrup (optional)
1/2 cup espresso
2 1/2 cups hot milk*
Pour ingredients in order into a very large mug, or two medium-sized ones.
*To froth your milk, heat your milk in a heavy saucepan on about medium or a little higher. When the milk is hot but boiling, stir gently with a frother or whisk vigorously with a whisk until you have a lot of foam. To pour, hold the foam back with a spoon and pour in the hot milk, and then spoon the foam on top.
I use Cafe Bustelo espresso, and it would appear that I am getting about 10 pots from 10 oz. A 10-oz can at Walmart cost about $5. (Apparently you can get it much cheaper on amazon, but I haven't done that yet.) So a pot's worth is $0.50.My pot makes about a cup of espresso, so if I just reuse the second half cup the next day (which I've done and can't really tell a difference), it's $0.25 per latte.
I use caramel coffee syrup from Target, which cost about $6. Four teaspoons of that cost about $0.33.
Milk costs about $3 per gallon, and so 2 1/2 cups of it cost about $0.47
So, my much-bigger-than-a-Starbucks-grande latte costs me $1.05, and I can tone down the sugar if I want, or use sugar-free syrup, and get mountains of foam that would never fit in a Starbucks coffee cup.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Popcorn and Cookie Butter
So, this past week... I have not been good. I have, in point of fact, been bad. Confusingly, I have not gained weight, but lost it. (A little of it.) I have eaten something that was fattening/sweet/ridiculous pretty much EVERY DAY this week. Lunch today was popcorn and Cookie Butter. Big Bit was thrilled. I had made less than a fully bowl (we have a Stir-Crazy, I cannot recommend them highly enough) and so after eating about 3 or 4 cups of popcorn and 5 or 6 tablespoons of Cookie Butter, I was thinking "Hey, another half-bowl of popcorn sounds great! And then we'll just finish off the last of the Cookie Butter, just to keep things neat and tidy ..." Fortunately I had to put Little Bit down for a nap first, which gave me a moment to realize what a Bad Idea that would be.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh what to do!
Also these week, exercise? Um, what exercise? I never said I would exercise ... oh wait. Right. That was me. Ahem.
It is my belief that I have, for lack of a more scientific term, stubborn fat. Slow to gather, slow to leave ... Otherwise I should be seeing a lot more yo-yo-ing on the bathroom scale. This is, I suspect, also related to nursing. It seems like nursing is really helpful for losing a chunk of weight at the beginning, and then there you stop. It's like your body fights to keep every ounce, screaming, "Noooooooo! What if there's a FAMINE? What if they run out of CHEESE? How will you feed your BABY????"
This is unhelpful.
So what to do? If I am "good" (as I define it, not as Health magazine defines it) I lose weight slooooooowly or maybe I stay the same for a while. If I am bad, I lose weight even more sloooooooowly or maybe I stay the same for a while or maybe I slooooooowly drift upwards on the scale. This, in case I have been unclear, is not working for me. I am determined to not be fat by Christmas, which means there are pounds (and pounds) to lose and not much time to do it. I think I'm going to have to rethink. A dash of strategy, a soupcon of planning ... And, I very much fear, not a little exercising.
The number: 260
Ahhhhhhhhhhh what to do!
Also these week, exercise? Um, what exercise? I never said I would exercise ... oh wait. Right. That was me. Ahem.
It is my belief that I have, for lack of a more scientific term, stubborn fat. Slow to gather, slow to leave ... Otherwise I should be seeing a lot more yo-yo-ing on the bathroom scale. This is, I suspect, also related to nursing. It seems like nursing is really helpful for losing a chunk of weight at the beginning, and then there you stop. It's like your body fights to keep every ounce, screaming, "Noooooooo! What if there's a FAMINE? What if they run out of CHEESE? How will you feed your BABY????"
This is unhelpful.
So what to do? If I am "good" (as I define it, not as Health magazine defines it) I lose weight slooooooowly or maybe I stay the same for a while. If I am bad, I lose weight even more sloooooooowly or maybe I stay the same for a while or maybe I slooooooowly drift upwards on the scale. This, in case I have been unclear, is not working for me. I am determined to not be fat by Christmas, which means there are pounds (and pounds) to lose and not much time to do it. I think I'm going to have to rethink. A dash of strategy, a soupcon of planning ... And, I very much fear, not a little exercising.
The number: 260
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
A Diet of The Mind
Days like this I feel like all the dieting I do is in my head. I think a lot about eating less, I might plan to eat less or research light recipes but I DON'T ACTUALLY EAT LESS.
*throws hands in air*
*heaves sigh*
Today I for breakfast I had a 100-calorie Quaker snack bar and a cup of Mighty Mango juice. Pretty good. Quaker bar was a little overly sweet, but still, not bad. Lunch was a fairly large portion of macaroni, spaghetti sauce, and shredded cheddar. Not so good. This is actually a real problem meal for me. It's quick, easy, cheap, and Big Bit likes it. Hard to say no to. Unfortunately it's pretty much nutritionally neutral. And since I'm pouring the dry pasta out of the box, hard to portion reasonably. I have been known to eat a POUND of pasta at a sitting. Which is pretty ridiculous. Snack was a graham cracker. Meh, not too bad, could have been worse, except for the part where it helps me think everything I put in my mouth should be sweet. The supper plan was salmon and mashed potatoes and possibly a bit of spinach salad.
You see that word, plan? Sort of indicates that reality might differ from the beautiful sentence that follows it? I burned the ever-living goulash out of those potatoes. I have seriously never burnt potatoes like I burned them tonight, and (of course) dinner had been delayed in the first place, so by the time it was clear that this meal plan was kaput, it was 7pm. And Big Bit hadn't eaten anything. And everything else in the house was going to take at least an hour to cook.
So I went and draped myself over The Husband and suggested we go to Waffle House. Sniffing the air, he quickly became agreeable and the four of us bounced out shortly later to dine at Chez Waffle. Where I ate a pecan waffle with butter and syrup, 2 eggs, 2 pieces of toast, 3 pieces of bacon, hash browns, half a glass of milk and three quarters of Big Bit's apple spice waffle.
*GROAN*
Why did I do that?? Why didn't I get an omelet or maybe a sandwich or hey, why didn't I suggest we go to Chik-fil-A instead, where it's so much easier to be good?
Why do I have this idea that I'm dieting so much more than I actually am???
The number: 262 Sigh.
*throws hands in air*
*heaves sigh*
Today I for breakfast I had a 100-calorie Quaker snack bar and a cup of Mighty Mango juice. Pretty good. Quaker bar was a little overly sweet, but still, not bad. Lunch was a fairly large portion of macaroni, spaghetti sauce, and shredded cheddar. Not so good. This is actually a real problem meal for me. It's quick, easy, cheap, and Big Bit likes it. Hard to say no to. Unfortunately it's pretty much nutritionally neutral. And since I'm pouring the dry pasta out of the box, hard to portion reasonably. I have been known to eat a POUND of pasta at a sitting. Which is pretty ridiculous. Snack was a graham cracker. Meh, not too bad, could have been worse, except for the part where it helps me think everything I put in my mouth should be sweet. The supper plan was salmon and mashed potatoes and possibly a bit of spinach salad.
You see that word, plan? Sort of indicates that reality might differ from the beautiful sentence that follows it? I burned the ever-living goulash out of those potatoes. I have seriously never burnt potatoes like I burned them tonight, and (of course) dinner had been delayed in the first place, so by the time it was clear that this meal plan was kaput, it was 7pm. And Big Bit hadn't eaten anything. And everything else in the house was going to take at least an hour to cook.
So I went and draped myself over The Husband and suggested we go to Waffle House. Sniffing the air, he quickly became agreeable and the four of us bounced out shortly later to dine at Chez Waffle. Where I ate a pecan waffle with butter and syrup, 2 eggs, 2 pieces of toast, 3 pieces of bacon, hash browns, half a glass of milk and three quarters of Big Bit's apple spice waffle.
*GROAN*
Why did I do that?? Why didn't I get an omelet or maybe a sandwich or hey, why didn't I suggest we go to Chik-fil-A instead, where it's so much easier to be good?
Why do I have this idea that I'm dieting so much more than I actually am???
The number: 262 Sigh.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Post-Vacay
Vacations are ... rough on diets. I basically muddled my way though, particularly the second half of the week. I tried to generally make good decisions. I passed on a lot of sweet snack foods. One of my cousins in particular seemed to turn up with a different box of cookies, biscotti, chocolate covered potato chips or "brownie brittle" at least once a day. Seriously unhelpful.
I consistently chose baked or boiled over fried or sauteed. I avoided anything that came in a bakery box.
But there was just so much, constantly available from all different sources. Another hard thing was that I never really knew what the eating plan for the day was. Plans were generally non-existant until the last moment. So I'd have my treat for the day and then discover that something 10x better was in the works.
Sigh.
Growl.
Arg.
I'm home now, and it's proving hard to be good. I did go "running" very briefly this morning and felt like I was going to throw up. Apparently I'm not very good at breathing. Or something. Gotta work on that.
The number: 259
I consistently chose baked or boiled over fried or sauteed. I avoided anything that came in a bakery box.
But there was just so much, constantly available from all different sources. Another hard thing was that I never really knew what the eating plan for the day was. Plans were generally non-existant until the last moment. So I'd have my treat for the day and then discover that something 10x better was in the works.
Sigh.
Growl.
Arg.
I'm home now, and it's proving hard to be good. I did go "running" very briefly this morning and felt like I was going to throw up. Apparently I'm not very good at breathing. Or something. Gotta work on that.
The number: 259
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Quandary
OK so.
I am on vacation.
I am on a diet.
Now what?
I feel like vacation should be relaxing, freeing, time to sleep late (Ha ha just kidding you have a toddler), time to buy fun books, time to look up recipes for mixed drinks that I would never make the rest of the year.
But. What if I go off the deep end and can't come back to the straight and narrow? (Excuse the mixed metaphors, I'm trying to write in a hurry.) Giving up diets after a week or two is sort of an MO for me. Sort of why I'm writing this blog in the first place. What to do, what to do? This morning we went to a wonderful little restaurant and I had french toast made with currant bread and stuffed with house specialty apple sauce. It was wonderful and definitely qualified for my "treat" of the day. But then later my younger brother and I were out together and he had been incredibly long-suffering and thoughtful throughout a long shopping trip and I offered to spring for gelato and have a "moment." The right move for the relationship, probably not the right move for the diet. It also was definitely not the best gelato ever, thus breaking my rule of only eating treat foods that are really worth it.
I am sitting here waiting for my cousin to make cookies and then the family is watching a movie together and I can just see more and more of these moments coming at me. And relationship is SO important to me (I'm an INFP on the Myers-Briggs) so I really hate to hold myself apart from all those moments. And (honesty!) I really hate to miss out on all those treats.
Sigh.
What am I going to do?
I am on vacation.
I am on a diet.
Now what?
I feel like vacation should be relaxing, freeing, time to sleep late (Ha ha just kidding you have a toddler), time to buy fun books, time to look up recipes for mixed drinks that I would never make the rest of the year.
But. What if I go off the deep end and can't come back to the straight and narrow? (Excuse the mixed metaphors, I'm trying to write in a hurry.) Giving up diets after a week or two is sort of an MO for me. Sort of why I'm writing this blog in the first place. What to do, what to do? This morning we went to a wonderful little restaurant and I had french toast made with currant bread and stuffed with house specialty apple sauce. It was wonderful and definitely qualified for my "treat" of the day. But then later my younger brother and I were out together and he had been incredibly long-suffering and thoughtful throughout a long shopping trip and I offered to spring for gelato and have a "moment." The right move for the relationship, probably not the right move for the diet. It also was definitely not the best gelato ever, thus breaking my rule of only eating treat foods that are really worth it.
I am sitting here waiting for my cousin to make cookies and then the family is watching a movie together and I can just see more and more of these moments coming at me. And relationship is SO important to me (I'm an INFP on the Myers-Briggs) so I really hate to hold myself apart from all those moments. And (honesty!) I really hate to miss out on all those treats.
Sigh.
What am I going to do?
Monday, June 3, 2013
Capris
Pro tip: If you have fat legs and are at the beach and do not expect to spend 98% of your time actually in the ocean, CAPRI PANTS ARE YOUR FRIEND. Seriously. For some reason being this overweight and having bare legs is just eye-drawingly awful, but weighing the same amount and having your legs sheathed in olive capri pants is somehow much more discreet.
I am at the beach and my project this week is organizing all the pictures on my computer and camera memory. Most of these are incredibly sweet, magazine-worthy pictures of Bit Bit and Little Bit. Some, however, were pictures of me last year at the beach. Let's just say that spaghetti straps are not my friend. So ... much ... skin ...
Nauseating.
I really am trying to not wallow in the self-hatred here. To that end, this year I specifically purchased a swimsuit with a higher neckline that fastened between the shoulder blades for more coverage and (very important!) more support. I am an E cup. Support. Is. Crucial.
I think that part of not hating yourself, not being self abusive, isn't to just be utterly blind to your own faults. Loving the way you look (This is a goal for me, not yet a reality), has to entail knowing your weaknesses and being kind to them. Particularly when you know there will be a camera around and you will have to remember your wardrobe choices forever.
I am at the beach and my project this week is organizing all the pictures on my computer and camera memory. Most of these are incredibly sweet, magazine-worthy pictures of Bit Bit and Little Bit. Some, however, were pictures of me last year at the beach. Let's just say that spaghetti straps are not my friend. So ... much ... skin ...
Nauseating.
I really am trying to not wallow in the self-hatred here. To that end, this year I specifically purchased a swimsuit with a higher neckline that fastened between the shoulder blades for more coverage and (very important!) more support. I am an E cup. Support. Is. Crucial.
I think that part of not hating yourself, not being self abusive, isn't to just be utterly blind to your own faults. Loving the way you look (This is a goal for me, not yet a reality), has to entail knowing your weaknesses and being kind to them. Particularly when you know there will be a camera around and you will have to remember your wardrobe choices forever.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Wagons, and the Getting On and Off Thereof
So the past couple of days I have been totally off the wagon in almost every respect. My sister-in-law got married this weekend and everything has been katiwompus. Friday I was mostly good but did not exercise. I chose the baked catfish and baked potato at the restaurant we went to for the rehearsal dinner. Baked catfish: good decision. Reasonably tasty and not cooked with oil, butter or shortening. Baked potato: not so much. It was overcooked in that dreary, restaurant kind of way, but I still put on the sour cream and butter and kept eating it. Why??? Why did I keep eating this very sub-par version of one of my favorite things? Why didn't I take a bite or two and decide, "You know what? I really don't like this. With the butter and sour cream's calories, this potato is just not worth it. Instead of continuing to eat this, why don't I just have another one of those dinner rolls? Or even a few of those fried mushrooms left over from the appetizer?"
So. Things to change about myself: STOP EATING ON AUTOPILOT. Once those calories are consumed, you can't undo it. Even when you wake up and realize "I really don't like this" or "I drank a lot of calories in that Coke but I'm still hungry," you're stuck.
Saturday and Sunday were a whirlwind of wedding and post-wedding recovery. I tried to eat as many vegetables as possible both days but didn't really police myself otherwise.
Monday we came back and attended our pastor's Memorial Day barbeque. There was brisket and baked beans and potato salad and cherry cobbler and I totally, totally let myself go. I justified it to myself with the "special occasion" dispensation.
Tuesday I was more or less back on track, although since Tuesdays are treat meal days, it was a fairly gentle transition. I had buttered wheat bread and tea for breakfast, 2 cans of tuna fish and mayo for lunch, a graham cracker for a snack, homemade mac and cheese for dinner and two pieces of peanut butter chocolate pie and two glasses of milk for a late-evening snack.
Now. Here we are. Wednesday. Aiming for low-carb meals, and no treats. And there is half a peanut butter chocolate pie in my fridge.
This is tough.
But this is also the most crucial time for me to really hold fast and keep my promises. In the past this has been the pattern, over and over: I commit to something (usually fairly radical) and am really good for several days and then something major will happen (kids sick, work crisis, vacation, etc.) and I will step off the wagon, telling myself that it is just because of [insert crisis here]. But then, once the crisis is over, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing. And I never go back. Staring at that pie this morning I actually thought "I don't really care about losing weight. What does it matter, one piece ... or maybe two?"
It matters.
I am committed.
I will lose weight.
I will exercise.
I will not excuse broken promises.
I might have to get rid of that pie. Maybe the neighbors like chocolate...
The number: 264
So. Things to change about myself: STOP EATING ON AUTOPILOT. Once those calories are consumed, you can't undo it. Even when you wake up and realize "I really don't like this" or "I drank a lot of calories in that Coke but I'm still hungry," you're stuck.
Saturday and Sunday were a whirlwind of wedding and post-wedding recovery. I tried to eat as many vegetables as possible both days but didn't really police myself otherwise.
Monday we came back and attended our pastor's Memorial Day barbeque. There was brisket and baked beans and potato salad and cherry cobbler and I totally, totally let myself go. I justified it to myself with the "special occasion" dispensation.
Tuesday I was more or less back on track, although since Tuesdays are treat meal days, it was a fairly gentle transition. I had buttered wheat bread and tea for breakfast, 2 cans of tuna fish and mayo for lunch, a graham cracker for a snack, homemade mac and cheese for dinner and two pieces of peanut butter chocolate pie and two glasses of milk for a late-evening snack.
Now. Here we are. Wednesday. Aiming for low-carb meals, and no treats. And there is half a peanut butter chocolate pie in my fridge.
This is tough.
But this is also the most crucial time for me to really hold fast and keep my promises. In the past this has been the pattern, over and over: I commit to something (usually fairly radical) and am really good for several days and then something major will happen (kids sick, work crisis, vacation, etc.) and I will step off the wagon, telling myself that it is just because of [insert crisis here]. But then, once the crisis is over, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing. And I never go back. Staring at that pie this morning I actually thought "I don't really care about losing weight. What does it matter, one piece ... or maybe two?"
It matters.
I am committed.
I will lose weight.
I will exercise.
I will not excuse broken promises.
I might have to get rid of that pie. Maybe the neighbors like chocolate...
The number: 264
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Hey that was mine!
Great weight loss tip. Dish out whatever you think is a reasonable portion, then let your toddler have first dibs. Little sneaker just stole half my banana ...
Monday, May 20, 2013
Weekend Review
It's shocking how fast determination erodes.
Friday night, just hours after I wrote the last post, I wanted ice cream. Or maybe brownies. Or maybe brownies and ice cream. And even though I was determined to change, even though my eating plan would let me have brownies (or some other kind of treat) the next day, I spent several minutes convincing myself it was ok and planning for how I was going to get my hands on a treat. I had an ear infection, it had been a long day with the kids, and The Husband was leaving for the evening to meet up with some friends for a pre-arranged game night. All of which meant that it was ok for me to cheat and have a brownie or two or half a pan and oh maybe a cup or two of ice cream on the side. (By the way, these numbers and measurements? Not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. I have a very generous hand with the sweets.)
But the thing is, cheating isn't ok.
It means that I made a promise to myself and now I'm breaking it. It means that I don't respect myself enough to keep my word to myself and it means that the next time, I'll need an even smaller excuse to ditch my promises. I am reading a Chris Powell diet book and he talks about making promises you can keep. That are small enough that they're easy to keep. And once you've successfully added one thing, then you can add another. And so on and so on.
This is different from my usual m. o. I tend to find things to change every day and am constantly changing my mind and making new commitments. I have a list in my kitchen with probably 15 different sewing and knitting projects that I am currently working on. There are more that I've put in mothballs (so to speak) but fully intend to finish at some point. It's the same thing with self-improvement. I want to find the perfect haircut, eat less potatoes, do a face routine (wash, care, makeup) every day, go running, floss more regularly, make homemade shampoo that doesn't have any chemicals, create a perfect capsule wardrobe, eat organic foods while not going over budget, learn karate, have a clean and vacuumed house at the end of every day, dry clothes on a line to save money, cut out all white foods (white flour, white sugar), get up early, do 20 minutes of devotions every day, toilet-train Big Bit before he's two ... all of it. All at once.
Clearly, this doesn't work for me (at least in the weight-losing department) or we wouldn't be here. So. Trying to change gears ...
I am committing to:
So, the review:
Friday: good. Kept promises despite feeling sick and wanting brownies.
Saturday: middling. Forgot 2nd snack and forgot to do cardio. However, was reasonable with treat meal and did not go overboard.
Sunday: below par. Did not snack at all, chose high white flour options at supper, did not do cardio, did not make bed.
Friday night, just hours after I wrote the last post, I wanted ice cream. Or maybe brownies. Or maybe brownies and ice cream. And even though I was determined to change, even though my eating plan would let me have brownies (or some other kind of treat) the next day, I spent several minutes convincing myself it was ok and planning for how I was going to get my hands on a treat. I had an ear infection, it had been a long day with the kids, and The Husband was leaving for the evening to meet up with some friends for a pre-arranged game night. All of which meant that it was ok for me to cheat and have a brownie or two or half a pan and oh maybe a cup or two of ice cream on the side. (By the way, these numbers and measurements? Not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. I have a very generous hand with the sweets.)
But the thing is, cheating isn't ok.
It means that I made a promise to myself and now I'm breaking it. It means that I don't respect myself enough to keep my word to myself and it means that the next time, I'll need an even smaller excuse to ditch my promises. I am reading a Chris Powell diet book and he talks about making promises you can keep. That are small enough that they're easy to keep. And once you've successfully added one thing, then you can add another. And so on and so on.
This is different from my usual m. o. I tend to find things to change every day and am constantly changing my mind and making new commitments. I have a list in my kitchen with probably 15 different sewing and knitting projects that I am currently working on. There are more that I've put in mothballs (so to speak) but fully intend to finish at some point. It's the same thing with self-improvement. I want to find the perfect haircut, eat less potatoes, do a face routine (wash, care, makeup) every day, go running, floss more regularly, make homemade shampoo that doesn't have any chemicals, create a perfect capsule wardrobe, eat organic foods while not going over budget, learn karate, have a clean and vacuumed house at the end of every day, dry clothes on a line to save money, cut out all white foods (white flour, white sugar), get up early, do 20 minutes of devotions every day, toilet-train Big Bit before he's two ... all of it. All at once.
Clearly, this doesn't work for me (at least in the weight-losing department) or we wouldn't be here. So. Trying to change gears ...
I am committing to:
- eating 5x a day
- having a treat meal once every other day and watching myself carefully the rest of the time
- doing 5 minutes of cardio every day
- making my bed and getting dressed in street-appropriate clothes every day
So, the review:
Friday: good. Kept promises despite feeling sick and wanting brownies.
Saturday: middling. Forgot 2nd snack and forgot to do cardio. However, was reasonable with treat meal and did not go overboard.
Sunday: below par. Did not snack at all, chose high white flour options at supper, did not do cardio, did not make bed.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Beginning ...
Hokay so.
Last night I went clothes shopping. I needed a dress for my son's baptism that could double for my sister-in-law's wedding, and I was really low on clothes in general (more on that later), so The Husband gave me $300 we had saved, promised to take good care of the kiddos, and told me to go have fun.
Well.
It. Was. Miserable.
I always hate how big my arms look in photos, so, primed for two major photo-taking opportunities, I was determined to buy something with sleeves. Since it's the middle of May, Lane Bryant (my go-to for clothes, anywhere else is even more awful) was stocked with dozens of sleeveless and strapless options, with barely a sleeve in sight. I found three in the whole store. The first one was like a black muumuu, made me look like a giant (note to self: avoid maxis), and barely covered the top third of my arms. The second one was an ultra-conservative denim shirt dress that looked like a homeschooling advertizement (I was home schooled, loved being home schooled, refuse to look like I was home schooled.) The third one I had hopes for: beige linen, which I've always thought looked elegant, princess seams with a shirt collar and three-quarter-length sleeves. I could get a necklace or scarf to brighten it up and it would be very versatile.
No.
No, no, no.
I was a mountain of buttoned-up linen. This outfit said (humbly) "I am huge. Please make way."
I stood there, turning back and forth trying to convince myself that it wasn't so bad. Try it with be belt. Imagine it with a necklace. Maybe turquoise, you like turquoise. Adjust the gathers in the back. And then I realized,
"This dress is actively making me sadder, standing here. There's no way I'm buying this."
As I started trying to find a sleeveless-dress-and-shrug combo, trying on lots of different things, I started to realize something.
It was painful to look at myself.
The fat of my stomach hung in folds, my underarms swung back and forth, my hips were like shelves. My butt - it stuck out behind me, it was enormous. Somehow, I had been able to avoid seeing all this in day to day life, even when getting out of the shower. Sure, I knew I was overweight, but I avoided lingering on it. That night, in the changing room, there was no avoiding. I was huge. I felt gross. I was miserable.
I have tried lots of things, for about 30 seconds each. I can do anything for a few days but never anything longer than a week. I have not let anyone keep me accountable, because it was too embarrassing to ask. So now I am asking the internet world to help me stay accountable. I will blog regularly, being brutally honest about what I'm doing and eating. To start off, I'm not letting anyone I know in real life know about this, except for The Husband and maybe a (very) few friends. Maybe when I get some success I will be brave enough to tell people about this.
I am 265 pounds. I am not sure how much I need to lose, but it is probably between 70 and 100 pounds. I haven't figured out all my weight goals yet, but I know this:
I REFUSE TO BE FAT AT CHRISTMAS.
Last night I went clothes shopping. I needed a dress for my son's baptism that could double for my sister-in-law's wedding, and I was really low on clothes in general (more on that later), so The Husband gave me $300 we had saved, promised to take good care of the kiddos, and told me to go have fun.
Well.
It. Was. Miserable.
I always hate how big my arms look in photos, so, primed for two major photo-taking opportunities, I was determined to buy something with sleeves. Since it's the middle of May, Lane Bryant (my go-to for clothes, anywhere else is even more awful) was stocked with dozens of sleeveless and strapless options, with barely a sleeve in sight. I found three in the whole store. The first one was like a black muumuu, made me look like a giant (note to self: avoid maxis), and barely covered the top third of my arms. The second one was an ultra-conservative denim shirt dress that looked like a homeschooling advertizement (I was home schooled, loved being home schooled, refuse to look like I was home schooled.) The third one I had hopes for: beige linen, which I've always thought looked elegant, princess seams with a shirt collar and three-quarter-length sleeves. I could get a necklace or scarf to brighten it up and it would be very versatile.
No.
No, no, no.
I was a mountain of buttoned-up linen. This outfit said (humbly) "I am huge. Please make way."
I stood there, turning back and forth trying to convince myself that it wasn't so bad. Try it with be belt. Imagine it with a necklace. Maybe turquoise, you like turquoise. Adjust the gathers in the back. And then I realized,
"This dress is actively making me sadder, standing here. There's no way I'm buying this."
As I started trying to find a sleeveless-dress-and-shrug combo, trying on lots of different things, I started to realize something.
It was painful to look at myself.
The fat of my stomach hung in folds, my underarms swung back and forth, my hips were like shelves. My butt - it stuck out behind me, it was enormous. Somehow, I had been able to avoid seeing all this in day to day life, even when getting out of the shower. Sure, I knew I was overweight, but I avoided lingering on it. That night, in the changing room, there was no avoiding. I was huge. I felt gross. I was miserable.
I have tried lots of things, for about 30 seconds each. I can do anything for a few days but never anything longer than a week. I have not let anyone keep me accountable, because it was too embarrassing to ask. So now I am asking the internet world to help me stay accountable. I will blog regularly, being brutally honest about what I'm doing and eating. To start off, I'm not letting anyone I know in real life know about this, except for The Husband and maybe a (very) few friends. Maybe when I get some success I will be brave enough to tell people about this.
I am 265 pounds. I am not sure how much I need to lose, but it is probably between 70 and 100 pounds. I haven't figured out all my weight goals yet, but I know this:
I REFUSE TO BE FAT AT CHRISTMAS.
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