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
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
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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