Lost

People always talk about losing weight. How much weight you've lost, how did you lose it, do you plan to lose more of it, are things I frequently hear in conversations.
I don't like the word "lost". Lost, to me, implies that I plan to find it again. That I'm looking for it. That I didn't intend to be parted from it. I don't want to lose weight the way I lose the charger to my phone, or my car keys in the black hole of my purse. If I manage to shed 5 pounds, believe me when I say, I do NOT want them back. I want them to go away forever and take all their little friends with them.
So I would say I'm not losing weight. I'm getting rid of it. I'm culling it. I'm divorcing it. Although, on second thought, divorce is never really all that final no matter what they tell you. We'll go with getting rid of it.

Now I have to go find my keys again.

Measure of a Woman

Our lives so often drill down to the numbers, don't they? Bank accounts, employee ID, social security, driver's license, clothing size, weight, and measurements. Are we our numbers? When I look in the mirror I don't see a big 175 staring back at me. I see myself, as I have become. Some I'm content with, other stuff, not so much. But this weekend was the tale of the tape, as I took my measurements for the first time in...well, forever.

So, the way your measurements are done is this: at the fullest part of your bust, without your bra, at your natural waist, which should be just above the belly button (unless you are an alien) and then at the fullest part of your hips. So I braced myself, stripped down and got to the brass tacks of it all.
Bust: 41
Waist: 36
Hips: 44

Many, many years ago, I could claim much more enviable numbers, but I would not trade places with that girl. She wasn't me. We are often identified by our numbers, classified by them, sorted by them, but I say that we are more than our numbers. As women, we are more than the number on a scale, the size of our jeans, we are the sum total of our life experiences, our lessons that we've learned and the wisdom we have both given and received. So judge me not by the measurement of my body, for that is gonna change, but by the content of my character, the flexibility of my mind and the strength of my soul.

Here endeth the lesson.

Off We Go

So begins my very first week of "truth-in-weight-management" blogging. One of my friends read it and said he thought maybe my blog was a little bit of a downer. I thought about this for a few minutes but came to this conclusion. Yes, you should think positive. But, as humans, no one can be Sally Sunshine all the damn time. Not without chemical help. We have our bleak days and our down times and those should be given equal voice. But though I give my frustration and struggles equal weight in my life, because that's honest, I also am able to do this because I know the one really important thing: It does not last. The frustration, the anger, the hopelessness. All of that passes as soon as you make up your mind to take it and do something with it. Doesn't matter what you do, just do it. And this too, shall pass. If it doesn't, we call that "depression" and then you should seek help.

This past week has not been a week of wise-eating. Friday was pizza-day for the kids I cook for, and that is a very stressful day. 3 20 oz cokes will get me through it. Barely. Also, I woke up late and found myself in the drive-thru for breakfast...again. (stupid crack croissandwiches, but that's another blog post) So, when I went to my meeting and discovered a half pound weight loss, I was surprised. It inspired me to really try doing better this week.

So this is my One Thing for the the coming week: Track my Points. If I bite it, I write it.

And no, I don't know how many points for elephant...

One

It is very easy to get overwhelmed by everything we are supposed to do to keep ourselves healthy. Workout everyday, eat right, meditate, get regular checkups, avoid stress, yadda yadda. It seems like the maintenance list for the average human would take up more time than a full-time job, which, if we want to pay the bills, we all have. And if we have a full-time job, chances are we work 40 or more hours a week, we can't avoid stress unless we vaporize our coworkers, and by the end of the day, we want a pint of ice cream, not steamed veggies.

This was a thought that I had. What if we didn't take the whole picture at once? It's a bit like something I saw either on the Net or in a book. "How do you eat an elephant?" "One bite at a time". So what if I took one thing per week to work on? Not worry so much about the rest, just focus on the one thing and then add something else the next week and so on and so forth.

So beginning this coming week, and so you know, my weeks start on Sunday because that's when I go to weight watchers, I will tackle one thing, one healthy habit I need to work on. And then the next thing and pretty soon I'll be eating elephants with the best of them.

I bet they taste like chicken...

Guilty as Charged

I am guilty of not feeding myself properly. A lot. If I were a child and my mom fed me the way I feed myself, child welfare would've been called. But there is one thing in my defense and that is, I cook all day long. When i get home, the dead last thing I want to do is cook. Especially since I'm only cooking for me. So what usually happens is I microwave a frozen diet dinner or pick up some takeout on the way home. From time to time, I may bring home leftovers from work. Today was a combination of things.
I ate:
A piece of ham & cheese quiche for breakfast (leftover from work)
drank crystal light all day long
Picked up a rotisserie chicken at the grocery store and microwaved a baked potato and some frozen broccoli to go with it.
There may have been cokes involved at 2 points on that timeline.

And that's a good day for me, folks. Those are all whole foods and not handed to me thru a drive up window.  And none of them involve cereal, which is my other fallback meal.

I believe it is a combination of lack of time and somehow thinking that we aren't worth the effort. That we don't deserve to eat well, because, after all, isn't that what got us into this mess to begin with?

But the truth is, we need to eat well. We need to eat something that not only gives us fuel, but gives us pleasure. We just don't need to eat every morsel of food that crosses our path. There isn't, for most of us, any shortage of food. We will all eat tomorrow. So, that is what I am thinking about today; taking the time to feed and care for yourself. We care for family, friends, and even pets. Time to put yourself on the list. Give yourself some care, a little love. It is hard, when we'd rather beat ourselves up for everything we didn't do that day, but hey, there's most likely gonna be another day after this.

Try again tomorrow.

How We Play the Game

The original Fat Game was named by my two uncles, David and Mathew. When I was young, my Mom and Dad would sometimes have them babysit me. And if there was a piece of meat to be included in my dinner, then we had to play the game. All visible fat had to be trimmed, and then the meat that was next to the fat, in case fat was contagious.
Obviously I've grown up. I am 31 years old. I'm married. I'm a Chef. I am 5'2". My cholesterol is over 200. My doctor told me I'm basically a solid. He thinks he's got jokes.

Every week, I hereby commit to you, I will post weight gained/lost as measured by the scale at my weight watcher meeting. I will post my food journal, or if that's too tedious, my points plus total for each day. I commit to telling the truth. About weight loss, about being a plus-size woman, about how this has affected me, my life, and everything else.

This isn't just about saving my health, my marriage or my sanity, this is about saving my soul.

Because I will not play this game anymore.

The Last Resort

If you've known me long, which, if you're reading this blog, you very likely have, you know I've always been trying to lose weight. Key word "trying". I've tried almost everything. Atkins, weight watchers, hypnosis, bribery (yeah, it doesn't work. apparently you don't have anything your fat wants) and pretty much anything else. It always ends the same. I start out like a zealot, reading all the material, weighing and measuring, telling everyone what I'm up to. Gradually my enthusiasm wanes and so too, does any actual weight loss. I mention my diet less and less, mostly hoping everyone will forget I ever told them.
Here's where the rubber meets the road. This is the last resort. On this blog, I'm going hardcore. I'm telling you my weight, what I gain, what I lose, and what I eat, no matter what it is or how it makes me look. If you are offended by profanity or vaguely personal info, don't read this blog. Because this is the reality that the Biggest Loser won't show.

175 pounds enter, 30 pounds leave.

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