I just heard a commercial on the radio for some new diet thing that guarantees you'll lose a pound of fat a day of you just spray this stuff into your mouth three times a day. And it really pissed me off.
I'm totally not an expert in nutrition but I can speak as someone who has been overweight my whole life and tried almost every diet scam known to man: None of that shit works....NONE OF IT! Some of the sprays and pills come with a specific diet plan to follow that use severe calorie restriction. Guess what? If you only eat 500 calories per day you will lose weight without an expensive pill or spray. For reals. And you know what else? You'll last for a couple of days on that 500 calories then you'll be so freaking weak and hungry that you'll give up and head for Baskin Robbins. My personal favorite among the current bunch is the "FullBar". A nice, handsome man who claims to be a doctor says that if we fatties eat a FullBar before each meal, we will fill up faster and won't eat so much during meals. Um, hello Mr. Handsome Doctor!!! If feeling full was enough to make us stop eating, we wouldn't be fat in the first place!!!! Think about it...if any of these "miracles" really worked, they wouldn't keep coming out with new ones because we'd all be thin from using the one that worked!!! Get it? I think every fat person who buys this stuff knows, subconsciously, that it's not going to work. But we keep hoping.
So why does all this piss me off so bad? Because the companies that market this crap are taking advantage of people who are down and they know it. They know we fatties are waiting for that miracle pill or powder or whatever it is to make us not so fat and we're willing to pay cash for it. I picture a bunch of well-heeled folks sitting around a table coming up with the right marketing technique to get the fatties to buy their crap. "Hey!! How about we say something like 'This stuff is so strong only people who are REALLY fat should use it?" Remember that one? Hilarious! Even the "respected" supplement retailers are actively pushing this shit and we're buying it and when the FDA comes out and says "That shit doesn't work!" they still sell it and we still buy it. Oh, yeah, the marketers add disclaimers like "results not typical" in teensy letters at the bottom of the screen to avoid litigation but they still hope we'll buy the product. And we do. And it's sad.
It's not just the pill and potions that piss me off, it's some of the diet plans themselves. Listen up, friends: ANY diet plan that requires you to completely cut out a specific food type, or eat only one or two things does not a healthy person make! You might drop some serious weight very quickly but it's not sustainable and it's NOT HEALTHY! A calorie is a calorie is a calorie whether it comes from fat or carbs or protein. Now, the effect that calorie has on the body as a whole is different depending from whence it came, but if you eat 1000 calories of protein every day, or 1000 calories of fat, you're still getting 1000 calories. If that 1000 calories is made up of all different kinds of healthy, whole foods, you'll lose weight AND you'll get the nutrition your body needs.
Of course, we must also move our bodies. Sucks, I know. But you gotta do it. Our bodies were made to move. The human body is the only contraption known to man in which performance improves the more you use it. I have discovered that on the days when I'm feeling physically crappy, I feel better if I exercise than if I just blobbed on the couch.
I remember years ago on a talk show there were these women who were very obese and they went on the show to proclaim that they were healthy and happy and they loved themselves just the way they are and blah blah blah. My favorite part was that all of them insisted that they don't eat any more than their thin friends do. Bullshit.
First, there's nothing healthy about being obese. NOTHING. The fact that I can accomplish everything I need to do to make it through the day (even though some major effort is required) does not mean I'm healthy. Obese people are at a massively higher risk for every disease known to man and that's a fact!
Second, we fatties usually pretend to be happy. I did. We use humor to cover our misery and pretend that life is a bowl of cherries when, in reality, just tying our shoes is a nightmare. We're not happy being fat and for 99.9% of us, we've NEVER been truly happy. Happy, well-adjusted, self-loving people do not eat themselves into oblivion and they certainly wouldn't celebrate being fat. I lost a friend of mine last week. He was a very jovial, funny, friendly dude. He was also super obese and died of a heart attack at age 49. I'm pretty sure he wasn't as "happy" as he wanted all of us to believe. Let's just face reality and stop denying the fact that we WILL leave this planet entirely too early if we continue on this path.
Finally, I'm really tired of hearing all the excuses people have for being fat and claiming they don't overeat and it's genetics and blah blah blah. (I totally include myself in this category, btw, so I'm sick of myself, too!) Scientists have found that there is a genetic link to obesity, but I think its more about lifestyle and nurture instead of nature. You can be genetically predisposed to alcoholism, but if you never take a drink, you'll never become an alcoholic. You can be genetically predisposed to obesity, but if you don't overeat and you exercise regularly, you won't become obese. Me, I'm the ONLY person in my family who has ever had a lifelong weight problem, so I don't have the luxury of the genetic excuse. I just ate too much and didn't move around enough.
It's hard work to go from being a fattie to being a not fattie. HARD WORK. But it doesn't take very long to develop the habits of healthy eating and regular exercise to the point that it's just the way you live your life. After that, it's really not that hard because, well, it's just what you do! I "turned the corner" after about 8 weeks into the Challenge and realized that health and fitness was no longer a challenge, it was my life. The word "challenge" indicates something that's temporary and will eventually be 100% conquered then you can stop. Not so with fitness. Every day, whether you are fat or fit, you must wake up tell yourself that the choices you will make that day will all be conducive to good health.
I hope I haven't offended anyone or burst any bubbles. The fact is that if you exercise regularly and eat a healthy diet of appropriate portion sizes, you will lose weight without spending hundreds of dollars on pills and potions. And you'll be happier. I know I am!
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
How to be an imperfect mom
I have failed miserably at being a perfect mom. Shocking, I know. With all the pressure women put on themselves to BE perfect, I can admit that...well, I never felt that pressure. As a sort of confessional, I shall now list a few things that put me in the running for the Not Perfect Mom Award of 1995-2011:
(I'll pause to give you perfect moms a chance to catch your breath or call DSHS or whatever you need to do.)
(Ready? OK!)
So somehow, in spite of all my errors, Kenzie is turning into an awesome human. She's a bright, funny, sensitive individual who doesn't really give a rat's behind about fitting in, being liked, looking a certain way or any of those other teenage things. She has a HUGE heart, so much so that when she sees a wrong being done even if it's thousands of miles away, she's completely affected by it. She knows what she wants to do with her life and she's taking the steps to get there. She's seen more loss in her young life than many people see in their whole lives and she's still hanging in there.
So this begs the question: How in the hell did the mom who did all those things in that list manage to end up with a kid like her?
Oh, that's easy. Jesus. See, while I was yelling at her and teaching her to throw the horns and letting snot run down her face, He was teaching her to tolerate me and love me in spite of my imperfect ways. Really, she has taught me more than I could ever teach her. She belongs to God, and I've been given the huge responsibility of taking care of her FOR Him. And, I occasionally fail miserably as indicated by the list above. And even when I forget about the whole grace thing, she never has.
So, I really can't take any credit for her being such an awesome human. But the "vagina" thing...well, that was all me.
- Yelled
- Over-reacted
- Not always been nice (sometimes mean)
- Occasionally gave her cereal for dinner instead of a home-cooked meal
- Let her out of the house with a dirty face and ignored the snot rockets knowing that as soon as I wiped it another one would be right behind it so it was an exercise in futility
- Took her to daycare (0H THE HORROR!!!!)
- Never had a "play date" (wtf is that, really??)
- Introduced her to heavy metal at a young age
- Taken her to rock concerts (starting at age 4) and taught her to "throw the horns"
- She didn't play soccer (the first year she was old enough, the practices were scheduled right after school. I guess perfect moms don't have day jobs.)
- Taught her that "vagina" is a fun word to say and can make for some seriously good laughs
- Explained that, in hockey, sometimes raising a middle finger to the ref is the best way to show your disapproval.
- Let her color her hair pink at age 11
- Didn't care if she walked out of the house looking like punky brewster, as long as she was covered.
- Taught consequences with punishment instead of a nice, long talk
(I'll pause to give you perfect moms a chance to catch your breath or call DSHS or whatever you need to do.)
(Ready? OK!)
So somehow, in spite of all my errors, Kenzie is turning into an awesome human. She's a bright, funny, sensitive individual who doesn't really give a rat's behind about fitting in, being liked, looking a certain way or any of those other teenage things. She has a HUGE heart, so much so that when she sees a wrong being done even if it's thousands of miles away, she's completely affected by it. She knows what she wants to do with her life and she's taking the steps to get there. She's seen more loss in her young life than many people see in their whole lives and she's still hanging in there.
So this begs the question: How in the hell did the mom who did all those things in that list manage to end up with a kid like her?
Oh, that's easy. Jesus. See, while I was yelling at her and teaching her to throw the horns and letting snot run down her face, He was teaching her to tolerate me and love me in spite of my imperfect ways. Really, she has taught me more than I could ever teach her. She belongs to God, and I've been given the huge responsibility of taking care of her FOR Him. And, I occasionally fail miserably as indicated by the list above. And even when I forget about the whole grace thing, she never has.
So, I really can't take any credit for her being such an awesome human. But the "vagina" thing...well, that was all me.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Onion Rings, Progress, and I weighed more than Mike Tyson.
So my body is really pissed at me right now. Went out to dinner, ate two onion rings, some fries, and a teriyaki chicken sandwich (but left most of the bread.) ICK. I feel like CRAP! I went straight to the gym and worked out for about 45 minutes in the hopes that my body will forgive me. I used to eat like that all the time. I used to order something like that and clean my plate and barely be able to walk out of the restaurant because I was so full. I just don't eat like that any more! Bleh! And now my body is telling never to do that shit again. Ok! I won't!
Progress update: I'm no long counting the Challenge beginning as my beginning and the Challenge end as my end because (1) I started working out and eating right three weeks before I weighed in officially and (2) I'm not done yet. So here's the non-Challenge stats:
Starting weight (right after Christmas) 237
Last weight (April 21) 200
Yep! 37 pounds of pure, unadulterated blob are no longer part of my physique and I have guns. Here's the picture proof. This is me last August and me yesterday:
It's REALLY hard to look at that 'before picture. Bleh. I avoid cameras in general so I didn't realize how awful I looked. When you've been fat as long as I have, you get used to seeing yourself a certain way. So much so that it looks almost...normal. You don't realize just how fat you really are, even when the scale is screaming for mercy and the buttons on your clothes become projectiles with every added ounce. We fatties don't even think we look THAT BAD. We compare ourselves to other fatties and think "whoa, at least I don't look like that!" Well, ya, we do. We totally do. Our body types may be different and we carry our weight in different places but let's not kid ourselves, k? The photo on the left is what 237 pounds looks like on a 5"2" chick....period. The photo on the right is still 200 pounds but it looks way better.
I always kinda freak out when I'd see what athletes weigh as listed on the team rosters. Cuz all the ones that weigh the same as me are over 6 feet tall. (Still, I didn't think I looked THAT bad.) So, allow me to present to you my small reality-check list:
Here's a list of people I used to weigh more than:
Mike Tyson (at his championship fighting weight - 218)
Dez Bryant (Dallas Cowboys WR - 217)
Ken Hamlin (Ind. Colts DB - 208)
All but 6 players on the Yankees current 40-man roster
And only three players on the 2010-2011 Wenatchee Wild team would wrestle in my weight class.
All that said, even at 5'2" I'll never weigh 105 lbs. I have huge hands and huge feet and I wasn't built to be tiny. Plus, I like being curvy! I think 130 would look great on me. So that's my goal. A nice, curvy, TONED 130. I haven't weighed 130 since jr. high. 70 more pounds in 8 months is totally doable.
Fer sure!
Progress update: I'm no long counting the Challenge beginning as my beginning and the Challenge end as my end because (1) I started working out and eating right three weeks before I weighed in officially and (2) I'm not done yet. So here's the non-Challenge stats:
Starting weight (right after Christmas) 237
Last weight (April 21) 200
Yep! 37 pounds of pure, unadulterated blob are no longer part of my physique and I have guns. Here's the picture proof. This is me last August and me yesterday:
Lordy!!! Lookit that face! I've lost at least TWO chins! Pretty cool, eh. I sat at work and stared at those pictures for so long my eyes crossed. And I got a little teary. And I'm motivated to work even harder now.
It's REALLY hard to look at that 'before picture. Bleh. I avoid cameras in general so I didn't realize how awful I looked. When you've been fat as long as I have, you get used to seeing yourself a certain way. So much so that it looks almost...normal. You don't realize just how fat you really are, even when the scale is screaming for mercy and the buttons on your clothes become projectiles with every added ounce. We fatties don't even think we look THAT BAD. We compare ourselves to other fatties and think "whoa, at least I don't look like that!" Well, ya, we do. We totally do. Our body types may be different and we carry our weight in different places but let's not kid ourselves, k? The photo on the left is what 237 pounds looks like on a 5"2" chick....period. The photo on the right is still 200 pounds but it looks way better.
I always kinda freak out when I'd see what athletes weigh as listed on the team rosters. Cuz all the ones that weigh the same as me are over 6 feet tall. (Still, I didn't think I looked THAT bad.) So, allow me to present to you my small reality-check list:
Here's a list of people I used to weigh more than:
Mike Tyson (at his championship fighting weight - 218)
Dez Bryant (Dallas Cowboys WR - 217)
Ken Hamlin (Ind. Colts DB - 208)
All but 6 players on the Yankees current 40-man roster
And only three players on the 2010-2011 Wenatchee Wild team would wrestle in my weight class.
All that said, even at 5'2" I'll never weigh 105 lbs. I have huge hands and huge feet and I wasn't built to be tiny. Plus, I like being curvy! I think 130 would look great on me. So that's my goal. A nice, curvy, TONED 130. I haven't weighed 130 since jr. high. 70 more pounds in 8 months is totally doable.
Fer sure!
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Next steps and boy, am I crabby!
My official challenge weight loss was only 26 pounds. If I use MY scale and count the 4 I lost before my official weigh-in, it's 32 total. Not thrilled with my results but I guess it's better than nothing, eh? I do know that there's no way I could have spent 4 hours walking around San Francisco if I hadn't been working out. That would have been a nighmare instead of a blast! And I wouldn't fit into the shirt I bought at Costco today. Even saying "I totally bought a shirt at Costco" wouldn't have been possible because, well, Costco carries everything in gigantic sizes except their clothes. So the only thing I could have bought there three months ago was a men's XL tshirt...or maybe a robe. And socks and underwear. But that's it.
In order to keep this fitness thing going, I needed to set another goal for myself. I want to lose another 25 pounds by June 23rd which is my 25th high school reunion. Not that I give a rats patoot what my classmates think about the way I look. I'm way too punk rock for that and, besides, I was fat in high school so it's not like they're going to say "Holy shit!!! Did you see Shelley? She's really let herself go!!!" I just needed to pick a date. So I picked that one.
Now to the crabbiness. Kenz and I spent the most incredible weekend in San Jose and San Francisco and it cemented the fact that I was not meant to spend my future empty nest years in a place like Wenatchee. Before all you lifelong Wenatchee-ites get your panties in a bunch, your town is lovely. It's just not for me. There's nothing to do unless you're an outdoorsy type, then I'm sure it's great! The shows at the PAC and the TTC generally reflect the likes of conservative Wenatchee folks, which they need to do to make money. A country singer or an 80's hair band will bring in more ticket sales than a current hard rock act. The TTC isn't going to pack in 3000 locals to see a punk rock show, that's for sure. And the price they'd charge for it would make it untouchable for most people who like punk rock. The live music scene here is non-existent. If we want to see a cool show, a new band, hear from an author about his or her new book (and no, "The Great Hills of Wenatchee" by I.M. Local doesn't count) we have to drive a long way. And that's sad. And it makes me crabby.
In the city, there are hundreds of entertainment options every week, and many of them are free or very cheap. From gigantic flea markets where you can spend the whole day and not see everything to a club with a $5 cover charge that showcases local talent, you just have to pick up the local rag and see what's up. You can take public transportation to get anywhere in the city for a small price, while here we have to drive 2.5 hours to find decent shopping. Yes, the city does have disadvantages, too, but I'd rather deal with a few teeny obstacles to get some culture in my life than look at the same shit all day, every day. That also makes me crabby.
I think my favorite part about being in the city is the people. All the different people. They look different, they talk different, they have different ideas about life and the only way we can truly appreciate our differences is to be around people who are...different. Here in Wenatchee, we don't want people to look too much different than we do. And if they are different, we want them to keep to themselves and not try to infiltrate our way of life. We pretend we are open-minded, loving, Christian people but we really aren't. We know Jesus said to love everyone as God loves us, but we don't. We pretend we do, but we don't. We say things like "I'm not racist but..." then proceed to make a total blanket, stereotypical comment about people who are different. We claim the fact that we've known one gay person (well, one that we knew for sure) in our lives and we weren't mean to him means we can't possibly be homophobic, but we tell jokes that confirm the opposite is true. We say "everyone can come to the cross!" but what we really mean is "everyone can come to the cross but I'd rather they didn't come to my church."
Yes, there is racism and hatred everywhere. Wenatchee hasn't cornered the market on that, for sure. But in the city, there's more acceptance. There's more openness to differences because, well, there's more different kinds of people! If you count out anyone of color in the city, you'd be hard pressed to staff your business. In Wenatchee, you really don't see people of different races who are enmeshed in the community. You rarely see an African-American person working behind the reception desk at your dental office. Stuff like that.
I want to experience different things and watch the world grow and change. In Wenatchee, we want everything to stay the same and change is, well, just not ok. Unless the change means that certain kinds of people will fit in even less than they do now. Change like building condos that a teensy portion of our population can afford. That's a good change. Building affordable houses (and, no, $200k is not "affordable") that people like me can buy wthout dumping our entire salaries into the roof over our heads...fahgettaboutit. The good-ol'-boy network is alive and well here, and it appears we're perfectly ok with that. Not many people will say that out loud, though. Me, I don't care.
I often think of my friend, Jerry Gordon, when I think about how I want to live my life when my mom years are over. He's my former high school English teacher who is retired and lives Portland. He's always posting on his facebook how he went to this play, saw that author, saw this band, etc. He's living an active, culture-filled life as a single retired dude. I want to live like Jerry Gordon.
I know I ended up in Wenatchee for a reason, and I know I've stayed here for a reason. Sometimes, having too many choices isn't good for me and it's been a great place to learn self-discipline and self-control. Not many opportunities to get in trouble around here, that's for sure! Plus, I found a great church and some of the most loving and precious people now call me friend. I just feel like I can't grow as a person here, because everyone is pretty much the same as me.
I won't be crabby about this for long because that would be silly. It's going to be several years before I jump ship so I can't stay crabby the whole time. Until then, I just have to make the best of it and visit the city when I can. Just knowing I won't be here forever should help keep the crabby at bay. I hope.
No matter where you go, there you are. It's totally true. I'm Shelley in Wenatchee and I'll be Shelley in the City. But when I'm Shelley in the City, I'll have more to absorb, more to learn about, there are more educational opportunites (formal and informal) and it will make me a more interesting person. I want to be interesting. Right now, I feel like I'm suffocating.
In order to keep this fitness thing going, I needed to set another goal for myself. I want to lose another 25 pounds by June 23rd which is my 25th high school reunion. Not that I give a rats patoot what my classmates think about the way I look. I'm way too punk rock for that and, besides, I was fat in high school so it's not like they're going to say "Holy shit!!! Did you see Shelley? She's really let herself go!!!" I just needed to pick a date. So I picked that one.
Now to the crabbiness. Kenz and I spent the most incredible weekend in San Jose and San Francisco and it cemented the fact that I was not meant to spend my future empty nest years in a place like Wenatchee. Before all you lifelong Wenatchee-ites get your panties in a bunch, your town is lovely. It's just not for me. There's nothing to do unless you're an outdoorsy type, then I'm sure it's great! The shows at the PAC and the TTC generally reflect the likes of conservative Wenatchee folks, which they need to do to make money. A country singer or an 80's hair band will bring in more ticket sales than a current hard rock act. The TTC isn't going to pack in 3000 locals to see a punk rock show, that's for sure. And the price they'd charge for it would make it untouchable for most people who like punk rock. The live music scene here is non-existent. If we want to see a cool show, a new band, hear from an author about his or her new book (and no, "The Great Hills of Wenatchee" by I.M. Local doesn't count) we have to drive a long way. And that's sad. And it makes me crabby.
In the city, there are hundreds of entertainment options every week, and many of them are free or very cheap. From gigantic flea markets where you can spend the whole day and not see everything to a club with a $5 cover charge that showcases local talent, you just have to pick up the local rag and see what's up. You can take public transportation to get anywhere in the city for a small price, while here we have to drive 2.5 hours to find decent shopping. Yes, the city does have disadvantages, too, but I'd rather deal with a few teeny obstacles to get some culture in my life than look at the same shit all day, every day. That also makes me crabby.
I think my favorite part about being in the city is the people. All the different people. They look different, they talk different, they have different ideas about life and the only way we can truly appreciate our differences is to be around people who are...different. Here in Wenatchee, we don't want people to look too much different than we do. And if they are different, we want them to keep to themselves and not try to infiltrate our way of life. We pretend we are open-minded, loving, Christian people but we really aren't. We know Jesus said to love everyone as God loves us, but we don't. We pretend we do, but we don't. We say things like "I'm not racist but..." then proceed to make a total blanket, stereotypical comment about people who are different. We claim the fact that we've known one gay person (well, one that we knew for sure) in our lives and we weren't mean to him means we can't possibly be homophobic, but we tell jokes that confirm the opposite is true. We say "everyone can come to the cross!" but what we really mean is "everyone can come to the cross but I'd rather they didn't come to my church."
Yes, there is racism and hatred everywhere. Wenatchee hasn't cornered the market on that, for sure. But in the city, there's more acceptance. There's more openness to differences because, well, there's more different kinds of people! If you count out anyone of color in the city, you'd be hard pressed to staff your business. In Wenatchee, you really don't see people of different races who are enmeshed in the community. You rarely see an African-American person working behind the reception desk at your dental office. Stuff like that.
I want to experience different things and watch the world grow and change. In Wenatchee, we want everything to stay the same and change is, well, just not ok. Unless the change means that certain kinds of people will fit in even less than they do now. Change like building condos that a teensy portion of our population can afford. That's a good change. Building affordable houses (and, no, $200k is not "affordable") that people like me can buy wthout dumping our entire salaries into the roof over our heads...fahgettaboutit. The good-ol'-boy network is alive and well here, and it appears we're perfectly ok with that. Not many people will say that out loud, though. Me, I don't care.
I often think of my friend, Jerry Gordon, when I think about how I want to live my life when my mom years are over. He's my former high school English teacher who is retired and lives Portland. He's always posting on his facebook how he went to this play, saw that author, saw this band, etc. He's living an active, culture-filled life as a single retired dude. I want to live like Jerry Gordon.
I know I ended up in Wenatchee for a reason, and I know I've stayed here for a reason. Sometimes, having too many choices isn't good for me and it's been a great place to learn self-discipline and self-control. Not many opportunities to get in trouble around here, that's for sure! Plus, I found a great church and some of the most loving and precious people now call me friend. I just feel like I can't grow as a person here, because everyone is pretty much the same as me.
I won't be crabby about this for long because that would be silly. It's going to be several years before I jump ship so I can't stay crabby the whole time. Until then, I just have to make the best of it and visit the city when I can. Just knowing I won't be here forever should help keep the crabby at bay. I hope.
No matter where you go, there you are. It's totally true. I'm Shelley in Wenatchee and I'll be Shelley in the City. But when I'm Shelley in the City, I'll have more to absorb, more to learn about, there are more educational opportunites (formal and informal) and it will make me a more interesting person. I want to be interesting. Right now, I feel like I'm suffocating.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The Slacking Blogger and eating healthy isn't really more expensive than eating junk
I haven't written for a long time because I was obsessing over another project. I delivered a message at the New Song church women's retreat. It was emotionally DRAINING but truly an incredible experience. I was so nervous that I would bomb but the Holy Spirit took over just in time and I did pretty good!
So I weigh in a week from tomorrow and, no, I didn't reach my personal challenge goal. I know it's not over yet, but I'd need to starve myself for the next seven days to drop 14 pounds by next Thursday. This does not sound like a good time. Thus, I shant attempt that little feat.
On the bright side, I'm 9 pounds away from having a weight that no longer begins with a 2! I feel better, I look better, my blood pressure is down, I have more energy and day-to-day life is just a lot easier to handle. I no longer dread the thought of going to the grocery store because it makes me tired. Still hate grocery shopping but just because it's...grocery shopping. Next weekend, Kenz and I are going on a little trip (we're totally going to an NHL game!!!!!) and I'll have plenty of energy to tromp around the HP Pavilion in San Jose and climb the stairs to our 2nd-level seats with no problem. Our hotel is near the arena so we'll just walk on over!
So one thing I hear a lot is that eating healthy is WAY more expensive than eating junk. 'Tis true, chicken breasts and salmon are more expensive than hot dogs and fish sticks. But I've found that we are actually spending LESS on food than we were before. The first reason is that we don't eat out as much as we used to. We used to eat out 3-4 times a week (including our weekly after-church visit to Jimmy's...omg...I miss you, Jimmy's!!!). At $15-30 a meal, depending on the restaurant, that adds up FAST.
The second reason is that we simply eat less food! When we have steak for dinner we split one instead of each having one. No more hamburger helper in big batches tempting me to savor another bowl of it's deliciousness! We rarely have leftovers unless I cook some extra chicken for salads the next day. Other than that, we cook only the portions that we're going to eat. It cuts down on the temptation to overeat and also cuts down on waste.
The third reason is that there's stuff we just don't buy any more like calorie-laden drinks and snacks. No more boxes of ice cream or giant bags of chips. If we want a treat, we buy a Skinny Cow individual serving cup (140 calories) or some cheddar flavored Quaker mini-rice cakes that taste like fricken' Cheetos! (140 calories in 17 of those little suckers but who can eat 17???) That way, we can have a little treat without having a gigantic bag of something laying around to tempt us!
So ends my sage advice for the day. Now I have to work on another writing project: my challenge essay. I'm certain it will be riveting!
Shel
So I weigh in a week from tomorrow and, no, I didn't reach my personal challenge goal. I know it's not over yet, but I'd need to starve myself for the next seven days to drop 14 pounds by next Thursday. This does not sound like a good time. Thus, I shant attempt that little feat.
On the bright side, I'm 9 pounds away from having a weight that no longer begins with a 2! I feel better, I look better, my blood pressure is down, I have more energy and day-to-day life is just a lot easier to handle. I no longer dread the thought of going to the grocery store because it makes me tired. Still hate grocery shopping but just because it's...grocery shopping. Next weekend, Kenz and I are going on a little trip (we're totally going to an NHL game!!!!!) and I'll have plenty of energy to tromp around the HP Pavilion in San Jose and climb the stairs to our 2nd-level seats with no problem. Our hotel is near the arena so we'll just walk on over!
So one thing I hear a lot is that eating healthy is WAY more expensive than eating junk. 'Tis true, chicken breasts and salmon are more expensive than hot dogs and fish sticks. But I've found that we are actually spending LESS on food than we were before. The first reason is that we don't eat out as much as we used to. We used to eat out 3-4 times a week (including our weekly after-church visit to Jimmy's...omg...I miss you, Jimmy's!!!). At $15-30 a meal, depending on the restaurant, that adds up FAST.
The second reason is that we simply eat less food! When we have steak for dinner we split one instead of each having one. No more hamburger helper in big batches tempting me to savor another bowl of it's deliciousness! We rarely have leftovers unless I cook some extra chicken for salads the next day. Other than that, we cook only the portions that we're going to eat. It cuts down on the temptation to overeat and also cuts down on waste.
The third reason is that there's stuff we just don't buy any more like calorie-laden drinks and snacks. No more boxes of ice cream or giant bags of chips. If we want a treat, we buy a Skinny Cow individual serving cup (140 calories) or some cheddar flavored Quaker mini-rice cakes that taste like fricken' Cheetos! (140 calories in 17 of those little suckers but who can eat 17???) That way, we can have a little treat without having a gigantic bag of something laying around to tempt us!
So ends my sage advice for the day. Now I have to work on another writing project: my challenge essay. I'm certain it will be riveting!
Shel
Monday, March 7, 2011
Let's Get Small-er (and pants, part deux)
(First, I have to take care of a little business....*AHEM*)
I LOVE CANADA!
(We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.)
I wore my favorite pants on Friday even though they're WAY too big now. I kinda felt smaller in them. I have to wear a belt or they'll just fall off. No need to open the fly to get them off. Just unbuckle the belt and they slide right down, making a whooshing sound. They're so big that my friend, Brian, pointed out that they were falling down and I looked like I had a load in my pants. I told him to stop looking at my ass. Today, I'm wearing small-er pants. I say small-er instead of small because, well, there's nothing small about my pants. I'm also wearing a newer shirt that fits, instead of a baggy one. And I feel smaller.
I feel more comfortable in my skin today. I feel more comfortable in general today. I noticed said additional comfort while I was driving. How can sitting in a seat and turning a steering wheel be uncomfortable? When you're fat, everything is uncomfortable. Everything is more difficult. Everything you do requires more effort to get it done. But things are getting way easier already. Even though I haven't dumped tons of weight there are lots of little things that are already different. Things like:
- Not only can I bend over and touch my toes, I can put my fingers under my toes and lift up my feet.
- When I put my purse on my shoulder, it stays there.
- Tying my shoes is way easier.
- When I'm on the eliptical or the treadmill at the gym, I can see BOTH of my shoulders in my reflection on the little tv monitor.
- I can do my grocery shopping or bop through the mall without getting tired after 15 minutes.
- (Just noticed this one) My torso doesn't touch the arm rests on my chair.
In light of my recent disgust with my scale which is completely opposed to the way I FEEL, I decided I'm not going to weigh myself until I weigh in on the 31st. Oh, I'm making progess, for sure. But I don't think I'll be The Biggest Loser. And I'm perfectly ok with that. All the little things are adding up to bigger things. I'm eating WAY better and WAY less, I exercise regularly for the first time in my life, and I go to bed every night knowing that I did something good for myself.
I've been awesome at self-destruction my whole life. I never felt like I deserved anything good. I'm afraid that if I just focus on completing a 12-week challenge that week 13 will begin with a bacon cheeseburger and a pile o' fries followed by a marathon session on the couch. If I do that, I'm pretty sure that would be the meanest thing I've ever done to myself. But I am fearfully and wonderfully made by the God of the Universe, and I know he's got big plans for me. It will be way hard to carry out those plans from the couch.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Today, I cried about pants.
Pants are important to women. Today, I cried about pants. Oh, it wasn't the first time. Usually when I cry about pants, it's because my favorite pants no longer acquiesced (had to look that up to check the spelling) to my ever-expanding waistline. Not many things are more depressing than the day you can't button your favorite pants. The tears didn't fall just because the pants didn't fit. It was thump-on-the-head reality check that I was eating WAY too much and I was not getting away with it. At church today, Pastor Don reminded us that we can't hide anything from God. Pants are like God. We can't hide anything from our pants.
After a frustrating time shopping for shirts at Old Navy yesterday, I headed to the mall today in search of shopping joy. Once inside Macy's, I didn't even wander into the fat woman section. I told myself that I wouldn't buy anything unless it was from the misses section and thus, expected to leave empty-handed. I spotted some super cute shirts and started with those. I grabbed the biggest size (18) and headed for the dressing room. Now, for those that don't know, 18 is generally the largest misses size, and the smaller plus size. However, an 18 misses is cut way different than an 18 plus. It's actually a lot smaller. With my ample bosom, I normally have to buy a 20 plus size shirt so it fits my chesticles. I didn't have much faith that this cute peasant top would even get past my shoulders. Imagine my surprise when it slipped effortlessly onto my body! I stared at myself in the mirror forever, moving my arms around, waiting for that telling pull that says "uh, you got it on.. doesn't mean it fits." But the pull never happened!!!! Man... I was outta control with happiness. I was so confident, in fact, that I would take a leap of faith straight into the world of pants.
The first thing that greeted me in the pants section were several leg-only mannequins standing on a table and sporting the latest looks from Calvin Klein on their size 0 plastic asses. Ish. No can do. I found a rack of Levis and started there. The biggest size was a 16. Shit. Eh, what do I have to lose. So I headed back to the dressing room and joy of all joys....THEY FIT!!!! Not perfectly...the rise was too high for my liking and my rear looked flat instead of fab, but I did not encounter ANY resistance from the fly. Total cooperation! We were a pants team! I was one with the pants! Still, the style wasn't what I was looking for and since my confidence had increase exponentially, I was ready to battle Calvin.
As I plowed through the piles of jeans looking for a 16, (if they'd hang the damn things up it would be easier to find!!!) I spotted two sales associates standing in the petite section chatting. (Going to digress here for a sec.) I thought it was interesting that the whole time I was in the Calvin Klein/Lucky Brand section, nobody offered any assistance. In the fat woman section, I'd usually have someone, eventually, ask if I was doing ok in my shopping. But not this time. It was weird. I can speculate on the reasons why, but that would require me to put myself down. Can't do that.
Anyhoo! Oh happy day, I found a 16! I held them up and thought...."um, no way these are going to fit", but I headed back to the dressing room anyway. On the way, I spotted an A-DORABLE Lucky Brand shirt. I've always liked that brand. Thought their clothes were totally cute and, if I wasn't so fat, that would be my style. But they're more like a junior cut. (Yano, made for chicks with no boobs and no hips.) Oh, what the hell...I'll try that on, too. Wasting no time (for me, any hesitation means failure to act completely) I went back to the dressing room and said a little prayer (yes, I pray about pants, too). One leg in... hmm... that feels pretty good. Two legs in...we could have something here. UP AND OVER..then the big test...button time....holy MaryMotherOfGod they fit!!! They actually fit!!! Oh man...this is some good stuff. I did the obligatory half-turn-looking-over-shoulder maneuver to check out my rear. Oh heeeeeeyyyy!!!! That's my ass! That's MY ass in a pair of size 16 not-from-the-fat-woman-section, modeled-by-a-size-0-mannequin Calvin Klein jeans!!!! And so began the waterworks. I was crying about pants again.
But I wasn't really crying about pants. I was crying about a thump-on-the-head reality check that everything I've been doing for the last 8 weeks was paying off. Every time I went to the gym even when I didn't want to. Every time I ate a spinach salad with grilled chicken instead of the bacon cheeseburger I was coveting in my heart. That stuff and much more were the reasons I could wear those pants, not the pants themselves. I couldn't blame the old pants for being too small, so these pants don't get the credit for my hard work. I'm taking it all!
P.S. Oh yeah, what happened with the A-DORABLE Lucky Brand shirt? Ten more pounds and you're mine, bish.
After a frustrating time shopping for shirts at Old Navy yesterday, I headed to the mall today in search of shopping joy. Once inside Macy's, I didn't even wander into the fat woman section. I told myself that I wouldn't buy anything unless it was from the misses section and thus, expected to leave empty-handed. I spotted some super cute shirts and started with those. I grabbed the biggest size (18) and headed for the dressing room. Now, for those that don't know, 18 is generally the largest misses size, and the smaller plus size. However, an 18 misses is cut way different than an 18 plus. It's actually a lot smaller. With my ample bosom, I normally have to buy a 20 plus size shirt so it fits my chesticles. I didn't have much faith that this cute peasant top would even get past my shoulders. Imagine my surprise when it slipped effortlessly onto my body! I stared at myself in the mirror forever, moving my arms around, waiting for that telling pull that says "uh, you got it on.. doesn't mean it fits." But the pull never happened!!!! Man... I was outta control with happiness. I was so confident, in fact, that I would take a leap of faith straight into the world of pants.
The first thing that greeted me in the pants section were several leg-only mannequins standing on a table and sporting the latest looks from Calvin Klein on their size 0 plastic asses. Ish. No can do. I found a rack of Levis and started there. The biggest size was a 16. Shit. Eh, what do I have to lose. So I headed back to the dressing room and joy of all joys....THEY FIT!!!! Not perfectly...the rise was too high for my liking and my rear looked flat instead of fab, but I did not encounter ANY resistance from the fly. Total cooperation! We were a pants team! I was one with the pants! Still, the style wasn't what I was looking for and since my confidence had increase exponentially, I was ready to battle Calvin.
As I plowed through the piles of jeans looking for a 16, (if they'd hang the damn things up it would be easier to find!!!) I spotted two sales associates standing in the petite section chatting. (Going to digress here for a sec.) I thought it was interesting that the whole time I was in the Calvin Klein/Lucky Brand section, nobody offered any assistance. In the fat woman section, I'd usually have someone, eventually, ask if I was doing ok in my shopping. But not this time. It was weird. I can speculate on the reasons why, but that would require me to put myself down. Can't do that.
Anyhoo! Oh happy day, I found a 16! I held them up and thought...."um, no way these are going to fit", but I headed back to the dressing room anyway. On the way, I spotted an A-DORABLE Lucky Brand shirt. I've always liked that brand. Thought their clothes were totally cute and, if I wasn't so fat, that would be my style. But they're more like a junior cut. (Yano, made for chicks with no boobs and no hips.) Oh, what the hell...I'll try that on, too. Wasting no time (for me, any hesitation means failure to act completely) I went back to the dressing room and said a little prayer (yes, I pray about pants, too). One leg in... hmm... that feels pretty good. Two legs in...we could have something here. UP AND OVER..then the big test...button time....holy MaryMotherOfGod they fit!!! They actually fit!!! Oh man...this is some good stuff. I did the obligatory half-turn-looking-over-shoulder maneuver to check out my rear. Oh heeeeeeyyyy!!!! That's my ass! That's MY ass in a pair of size 16 not-from-the-fat-woman-section, modeled-by-a-size-0-mannequin Calvin Klein jeans!!!! And so began the waterworks. I was crying about pants again.
But I wasn't really crying about pants. I was crying about a thump-on-the-head reality check that everything I've been doing for the last 8 weeks was paying off. Every time I went to the gym even when I didn't want to. Every time I ate a spinach salad with grilled chicken instead of the bacon cheeseburger I was coveting in my heart. That stuff and much more were the reasons I could wear those pants, not the pants themselves. I couldn't blame the old pants for being too small, so these pants don't get the credit for my hard work. I'm taking it all!
P.S. Oh yeah, what happened with the A-DORABLE Lucky Brand shirt? Ten more pounds and you're mine, bish.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Up...down... up.... down... and am I really supposed to be doing it like this??
I feel like my body is revolting. No, well, yes, it isn't pleasant to look at but I don't mean that kind of revolting this time. I feel like my body was perfectly happy the way it was and I'm really pissing it off with all this fitness crap. For the last two weeks, I've been up and down 2 to 2.5 lbs and it's making me a crazy person. See, the last time I tried to lose weight seriously, I lost 16 pounds in 6 weeks doing this:
Maybe I'm putting way too much pressure on myself for the challenge. Honestly, other than working out for TWO hours a day, SEVEN days a week and reducing my caloric intake to that of a 2-year-old, I can't think of anything I could be doing differently. And until I can afford a maid, a chauffer, someone to do my errands and basically handle everything in my life, that two hours isn't going to happen. So I guess it's time to change the thought processes and stop beating myself to a pulp.
I need to focus on the life change, not the challenge. I need to remember that it took me a long time to get this way, and it will take a long time to change it. I don't have to be The Biggest Loser and drop 10 lbs a week in order to be successful. If I had nothing to do with my time other than work out, I could probably do the 10 lb thing. But I have stuff to do. Lots of stuff. I'm a mom and I have to work and I have to do everything to take care of my fam. Because I'm the only one to do it. Don't get me wrong, Kenz is a huge help! There's just all kinds of things that the parents have to handle. And I'm both of them.
- Cut out most sugar
- Ate smaller portions (same foods for the most part, just not as much)
- Walked every other day
- Occasionally rode a bike
- Cutting out 99% of the sugar I was eating
- Not eating ANY processed food (aka nothing out of a box except Lean Cuisine)
- Eating more fruits and veggies than I have in my life and nothing but lean protein
- Consuming between 1000 & 1200 calories per day (even when I have a couple (yes a COUPLE) of baked tostitos with salsa)
- NO fast food
- NO red meat (other than a teensy piece of steak that was, I must say, HEAVENLY)
- Drinking enough water to drown a camel and not drinking any calories
- Working out at least an hour a day, 6 days a week including strength training and I sweat like a pig. Prolly burning between 300-500 calories per workout. (Some days I just want to walk in to the gym, smack the cute, skinny girl behind the counter, and walk out. But I go in anyway.)
Maybe I'm putting way too much pressure on myself for the challenge. Honestly, other than working out for TWO hours a day, SEVEN days a week and reducing my caloric intake to that of a 2-year-old, I can't think of anything I could be doing differently. And until I can afford a maid, a chauffer, someone to do my errands and basically handle everything in my life, that two hours isn't going to happen. So I guess it's time to change the thought processes and stop beating myself to a pulp.
I need to focus on the life change, not the challenge. I need to remember that it took me a long time to get this way, and it will take a long time to change it. I don't have to be The Biggest Loser and drop 10 lbs a week in order to be successful. If I had nothing to do with my time other than work out, I could probably do the 10 lb thing. But I have stuff to do. Lots of stuff. I'm a mom and I have to work and I have to do everything to take care of my fam. Because I'm the only one to do it. Don't get me wrong, Kenz is a huge help! There's just all kinds of things that the parents have to handle. And I'm both of them.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Things I Will Do, Part Deux...(and some other stuff.)
Here's the Part Deux part:
When I'm not so fat, I will be able to save my life, or someone else's. The last few days, there's been a couple of stories on the news about fatal house fires in Seattle. (I know that's morbid, but stay with me, k?) In one story, the people who survived had to climb onto the roof of the house. THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE! So that got me thinking. What would the chances be of me saving myself in an emergency situation, or being able to help someone else? Could I climb out a window? Would I even FIT through the window? Would I have the strength to pull myself to safety? Could I help someone else get out of danger? Could I run for my life, if necessary?? Could I fend of an attack of some kind? I don't know the odds of any of us being in a situation where we, literally, had to save our lives or someone else's. But it could happen anywhere, at any time. And we fatties are sitting ducks for any disaster, natural or man-made. And that's the truth.
And here's the other stuff:
Last night, I got my before picture taken and my official starting stats entered for the challenge. REALITY CHECK! Holy crapola. The body comp numbers weren't a suprise (duh, I have fat and a lot of it.) and I knew my weight number-ish , but the shock is that I didn't lose any weight last week. NOT A FREAKING POUND. The first week I started working out, I lost 4 pounds. I ate even better this week, worked out more and didn't lose a farking pound!!! ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!
I know I shouldn't get down because of that, it just SUCKS to see that number stay the same after all my hard work AND having to look at my photo in all it's roly-poly glory made it worse. (My fellow fatties, have you ever seen yourself from the back? Like a straight on back shot? Um, that's some scary shit.) It's amazing how quickly the negative thoughts started rolling in. I actually cried when I saw the picture. I can't get it out of my head. I look at myself in the mirror every day and I've seen myself full-length in dressing rooms but, man...ouch. OU-FRIGGEN-CH!!!!!! I just kept thinking... "really? Really??? REALLY?????? That's what my body looks like?????" Have I gotten so used to my body that I've deluded myself into thinking that it's not so bad? Well, now I know it is THAT bad. It's horrid. And it's shameful. And it's unhealthy and guarantees me a shorter time on this earth.
And I will NEVER look that way again.
I don't think God would want me to leave my earthly body too early. I know it's presumptuous to think I know what God wants (blah blah blah!). But (1) He let me live this long in spite of two decades of self-destructive behavior and (2) He waited a LONG time for me so I'm pretty sure he's got some unfinished business to take care of in my life (He even said so in Jeremiah 29:11) and (3) He knows that my physical body keeps me from being the kind of servant I want to be, so I'm thinking He's totally my Big Cheerleader in the Sky.
The odds are against me, but God is for me...so EFF the odds.
Shel~
When I'm not so fat, I will be able to save my life, or someone else's. The last few days, there's been a couple of stories on the news about fatal house fires in Seattle. (I know that's morbid, but stay with me, k?) In one story, the people who survived had to climb onto the roof of the house. THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE! So that got me thinking. What would the chances be of me saving myself in an emergency situation, or being able to help someone else? Could I climb out a window? Would I even FIT through the window? Would I have the strength to pull myself to safety? Could I help someone else get out of danger? Could I run for my life, if necessary?? Could I fend of an attack of some kind? I don't know the odds of any of us being in a situation where we, literally, had to save our lives or someone else's. But it could happen anywhere, at any time. And we fatties are sitting ducks for any disaster, natural or man-made. And that's the truth.
And here's the other stuff:
Last night, I got my before picture taken and my official starting stats entered for the challenge. REALITY CHECK! Holy crapola. The body comp numbers weren't a suprise (duh, I have fat and a lot of it.) and I knew my weight number-ish , but the shock is that I didn't lose any weight last week. NOT A FREAKING POUND. The first week I started working out, I lost 4 pounds. I ate even better this week, worked out more and didn't lose a farking pound!!! ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!
I know I shouldn't get down because of that, it just SUCKS to see that number stay the same after all my hard work AND having to look at my photo in all it's roly-poly glory made it worse. (My fellow fatties, have you ever seen yourself from the back? Like a straight on back shot? Um, that's some scary shit.) It's amazing how quickly the negative thoughts started rolling in. I actually cried when I saw the picture. I can't get it out of my head. I look at myself in the mirror every day and I've seen myself full-length in dressing rooms but, man...ouch. OU-FRIGGEN-CH!!!!!! I just kept thinking... "really? Really??? REALLY?????? That's what my body looks like?????" Have I gotten so used to my body that I've deluded myself into thinking that it's not so bad? Well, now I know it is THAT bad. It's horrid. And it's shameful. And it's unhealthy and guarantees me a shorter time on this earth.
And I will NEVER look that way again.
I don't think God would want me to leave my earthly body too early. I know it's presumptuous to think I know what God wants (blah blah blah!). But (1) He let me live this long in spite of two decades of self-destructive behavior and (2) He waited a LONG time for me so I'm pretty sure he's got some unfinished business to take care of in my life (He even said so in Jeremiah 29:11) and (3) He knows that my physical body keeps me from being the kind of servant I want to be, so I'm thinking He's totally my Big Cheerleader in the Sky.
The odds are against me, but God is for me...so EFF the odds.
Shel~
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