Here Comes Trouble

I did it. I bought a scale.

I feel like I could be opening Pandora's Box.

It turns out that my fears about normal scales not being able to weigh me were unjustified. Maybe the cheapest analog scales I was looking at when I bought my last scale (which was at Walmart probably ten years ago) didn't go over 250 pounds, but apparently standard digital scales (which were probably out of my $10-$15 budget at the time) go up to 400 pounds. I ordered one on Amazon and it should be here next Wednesday, which also happens to be my next Weight Watchers meeting--this is fortunate because I'll be able to see precisely how different the two scales register.

I tend to be a little obsessive about certain things, and I find it very easy to become obsessive about my weight. When I start a new diet or workout plan, I tend to overdo it and this usually causes me to end it just as quickly as I began. As one of my favorite poets, Edna St. Vincent Millay, wrote, "My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--it gives a lovely light!" After a lifetime of being a Fat Girl, I know all of the rules. Only weigh yourself once a day or once a week and always at the same time; don't eat after 6pm; your plate should consist of mostly vegetables; you need to drink at least eight cups of water a day; etc etc etc ad infinitum. But knowing and doing are two different things, and I always slip into the habit of skipping meals, weighing myself twenty times a day, enjoying the feeling of hunger a little too much, and generally replacing unhealthy habits with different, equally unhealthy habits.

So having a nice scale in the house is going to come with its own set of challenges. Besides my own tendency toward obsessiveness, I'm also anxious about my girlfriend weighing herself and seeing results. I don't want to hear how much she's lost. And I don't want her to become so enamored with losing weight that she begins actively trying--she's losing enough just by eating the healthier suppers I've been making. I know I've already talked about my own issues with her losing weight, and I'm trying to just not think about it and focus on myself, but I can't help it.

Having a scale WILL help me see when I've started to veer off course after a bingeful weekend, and it'll help me get through times like this week when my meeting was cancelled. Not knowing where I stand the week after Christmas is stressing me out, and I won't know exactly what I weigh as I ring in the New Year and make my resolutions. But the shiny new scale should be here on Wednesday, so I have a whole year of healthy living and body changes to look forward to :)

Oh, and the scale comes with a body tape measure...not sure how I feel about that...but I know I better save enough Points for a shot or two of whiskey after I measure myself for the first time!

Keep On Truckin'

Not weighing in this week is driving me CRAZY. After three days and nights of a veritable food orgy, I really need the reality check of getting on the scale so I can point myself in the right direction again. Alas, my meeting this week was cancelled and I still don't have a working scale, so I have to wait until next Wednesday to see my Christmas damage.

Seriously, I ate a lot.

I stayed within my Points for the week--but just barely. Like, when I got into the negative numbers, I went in and gave myself Activity Points for things like doing the laundry and playing with my niece and nephew. And then when I went negative again, I started scrolling through the food I ate and amending the amounts ('that 1/2 cup of mashed potatoes was really more like 1/4 cup...and I didn't finish that piece of cake so I'll only count 3/4 of it...'). There was just so much temptation. I didn't go crazy, but I did do some serious buffet-line-grazing. And I just had to "test" the nachos every time I stirred them. And it's not like you can have just ONE chocolate chip cookie when there's a whole bag just waiting to be eaten...

Now that Christmas is over, it's hard to get back into my good habits. I had a snow day yesterday, so we spent the day lazing around and eating leftovers. I knew it wasn't a good idea to bring leftovers home, but I'm a sucker for green bean casserole.  Extra cheesy.

My stockings were thankfully candy-free! I asked everyone to refrain from giving me sweets, so I ended up with tons of new earrings and trinkets and even some sugar free Jell-o boxes (score!). Plus, I got some awesome stuff for the kitchen. A new food scale, a really nice knife block and new knives, some stainless steel measuring cups, some measuring scoops with teaspoons and tablespoons on the handles, an olive oil mister, a garlic press, etc. So in between the bombardments of cookies and candy, I also got gentle reminders of my healthier habits.

It was also really nice to hear all of the compliments from my extended family--they last saw me about twenty pounds ago, so they can see now that I'm losing weight. And I only had to delete half of the photos of myself, instead of the usual 90%, so that was nice also.

I'm struggling to get back on track, and knowing that my next weigh-in is a week away has made me even more reluctant to be good. I'm still snacking on my girlfriend's candy, and I'm not drinking the water I was before. But I'm tracking everything, so at least if I gain next week, I'll be able to flip back through the last two weeks and see all of the bad decisions I made that showed up on the scale.

Hopefully I can reign it in before then, though, and actually lose a pound or two!

Surving Christmas

This is a ROUGH time to watch your weight!

All week at work I've had to dodge platters of fudge, brownies, cupcakes, divinity, homemade marshmallows, Oreo truffles, cake balls, cookies, peanut brittle, gingerbread, chocolate dipped candy canes, caramels, muffins...not to mention all of the store bought candy! Tree-shaped Reese's, white chocolate Oreos, Snickers, Kit-Kats, Caramellos, Heath bars...there have been mugs and bags of candy left on my desk, bowls and plates full sitting around on filing cabinets and desks, tins and baskets on the counters in the office kitchen. It's worse than my parents' house (although mercifully not as wrought with emotional eating triggers as being at my parents').

I've been strong, and I've actually been proud of my resolve. I passed up the platters, I gave the bagged goodies to my girlfriend and asked her to hide them from me and eat them quickly, and I had her hide the candy and only give me pieces when I ask for them. Last year at Christmas, I ate like I would never get chocolate again. I stuffed my face all day, every day. I did not pass up a single cookie or cupcake. I had piles of empty wrappers around me at all times. I emptied bags of Lindt truffles and gorged on boxes of Ferrero Rocher and chocolate covered cherries. I tried the white chocolate Frosty, the Reindeer Tracks Blizzards, the eggnog milkshakes, the gingerbread cappachinos. I baked rolls of cookies and dipped everything in the house in chocolate (marshmallows, cashews, cookies, Ritz crackers with peppermint flavor--they taste like Thin Mints--, candy canes, cherries, graham crackers, pretzels, everything) and then I ate and ate and ate. I couldn't even begin to guess how much I ate last year at Christmas, or how much weight I gained as a result. I just didn't care. I gorged myself with everything I could get my hands on.

Gorged is a good word. When I think of gorging, I think of ticks. Have you ever seen a really, totally engorged tick? When I first found my old dog on the side of the road on spring many years ago, he had a broken leg and was covered in ticks. The Humane Society guessed he had been outside all winter because his coat was so matted and caked deep with mud. The broken leg and resulting infection were more than they could care for and they were going to put him down if I left him. So of course I kept him, snuck him into my house (I was in college and pets were strictly verboten in university housing), and gave him a bath (I was as scared as he was--here was a strange, wild Rottweiler mix that I was told had been beaten and had his leg broken by a human, not a car, and I had no idea how he would react). He let me wash him and when I was done, I began inspecting him and cleaning his wounds, and I found so many fleas and ticks in his thick fur. I knew the flea shampoo would help with those vermin, but the ticks would have to be pulled out by hand. I started pulling them out, one by one, and then found a dense cluster of them latched in one of his armpits (if you can call it that on a dog). 

While I was pulling out all of the outer ticks, this disgusting thing was slowly uncovered at the center of the cluster. It was a tick, but it was the size of my thumbnail and a sickly yellowish-orange. Once I had pulled away all of the others, I had to get that monster. It had been sucking this dog's blood for so long, it was engorged to the point of almost bursting. I was using tweezers to gently detach the ticks head-first so there wouldn't be anything left inside the dog's skin, but this tick was so huge I couldn't easily get to the head. I used my fingers to pull the tweezers apart and released them around the tick--but it was so full and fat that it was soft, and the tweezers sank in like it was a marshmallow. I finally pulled it out but it was so gross and pale and full of blood that I never forgot that sight.

I ended up rehabilitating the dog and he became the love of my life. I named him J (J. Edgar Hoover) and I spent all of my time with him. And on more than one occasion, the thought of leaving him with no one to care for him saved me from killing myself. Not to be too grim, but I have dealt with suicidal thoughts pretty much as long as I can remember. There were several times after college in the lonely years that come with graduating from school to living alone and drinking alone and living as a drunk, unhealthy slob with no direction, that looking into that dog's eyes was literally the only thing that kept me from slitting my wrists or swallowing the handful of pills. I saved him and he saved me. When he died two years ago, I thought I would die with him. And when Rob died last year, I felt lonelier than I ever have before and I considered killing myself with the very slim hope that I might see Rob and J again if I did. But I was in a better place, and I had a girlfriend who loves me and got me through, and now I'm committed to living a healthier life and giving myself a chance again. In the year after moving in with my girlfriend I had begun to eat healthier and work out, and J loved going on the trails with me as I walked and jogged along. Then I got sick, had my open heart surgery, and we stopped jogging or even walking together. I wish I had been more active with him in the years after my surgery and before he died. But now I have another dog--as very different as a dog can be from another--and I hope to give him the active time I took away from J.

But back to what I was saying. Last year, I gorged myself until I really felt like that nasty tick I pulled out of J. I could barely move and I knew every part of my body was swollen with fat. I'm determined to not let that happen this year, so I'm doing that I can to control my sweet tooth. Besides passing up the treats and having my girlfriend hide my candy, I also decided not to make sweets this year. I gave my employees little gift bags instead of the usual cookies and chocolate-covered-everything, and I invited my parents over here to visit instead of going over there to help them bake. I'm also proud of this little change: I had volunteered to contribute to a charity bake sale, but instead of baking human food, I made dog cookies. I've made them before and they're so easy--it's 2 cups of wheat flour, 1 tablespoon of baking powder, 1 cup of milk, 1 cup of peanut butter, 1 tablespoon of vanilla, and 1/4 cup of honey. I mix the dry ingredients, mix the wet ingredients, combine the two, and then knead. I rolled it out thin and used a small Christmas tree cookie cutter and baked them for 20 minutes at 375. They turned out beautifully, and I divided them into snack bags. I made little "Merry Christmas" tags with a label saying they were peanut butter cookies for dogs, and included "To" and "Love" with blank spaces so people could give them to their dogs as presents. Some curly ribbon tied to each bag made them really cute--and they were a huge hit! They made money for the charity, and they kept me away from temptation. Plus, my dog really enjoyed the cookies I made him out of the scraps :)

So I'm finding little ways to sidestep the Christmas treat landmines that are planted around my life. I'm still staying on Plan and finding ways to be more active, and I have to say that this year feels more like Christmas than last year did. It's really nice to enjoy Christmas, instead of watching it pass by the television screen while I gulp down food without thinking about it. I miss J, I miss Rob, and I do miss making plates of goodies for everyone--but I'm slowly learning to replace those gaps with healthy food, meaningful activities, and spending time with the people I love who are still with us. I don't want to be a tick this year. I want to be a Christmas elf, spreading cheer instead of sucking it all away. That was super cheesy. But the point is, I'm having a wonderful Christmas and I think I'm helping the people around me have a good Christmas too, even if I'm not handing them cookies.

Numbers Are Confusing

Whoa.

Seriously, WHOA. I was pretty sure I had lost weight this week (especially after getting off the steroids and moving more for a change) but I was stunned to find I lost 7.2 pounds. Seven point two! That's, like, almost a bowling ball. It's over half of my dog's weight. That's the size of a baby! 


37 pounds of cat!

That brings me down to 266.3 pounds for a grand total of 37.7 pounds lost. I am so happy to be in the 260s! I really don't remember being in the 260s. I shot from 235 up to 275 so quickly after my heart surgery that I have no recollection of this weight on my way up. Now I can't wait to get to my next mini goal of 250 (so I can buy a proper scale and possibly go ziplining when I head to Mexico in February).

Speaking of goals, I still haven't decided what I want my final goal weight to be. I don't know if I'm really ready to decide right now. I'm 5' 6 3/4"...I like to think of myself at 5'7" but I'm not sure if I technically count as 5'7" on the healthy weight scale. Wow, it's weird to think of ever being at a 'healthy weight'. I've never been at a healthy weight for my age, even in elementary school. I mean, my license still says I weigh 160 pounds, which was a lie even then (I put 160 on my learner's permit when I was 15, and mercifully no one has made me change it in the last 15 years and multiple lost or renewed licenses--when I was 15, I was 180 and desperately hoped to get down to 160, which clearly did not happen). I'm still a loooooong way off from a healthy weight, but I feel like I'm making so much progress that it might actually happen some day. For a long time, I thought the only way I would ever be a normal size would be through a) weight loss surgery b) a crazy new diet pill or c) magic. Now it seems within reach. Long reach, but still.

According to WeightWatchers.com, a healthy weight at 5'6" is 124-155 pounds, and at 5'7" it's 128-160. So I'm still more than 100 pounds away from being 'healthy', but I'm 37.7 pounds closer! That's something to be happy about. I can't even imagine what my body would look like and feel like within those ranges. 124 seems really tiny--I don't see myself being happy and maintaining a weight that low. But something like 145 would be crazy awesome. I would like to be under 150, but not by much.

 I guess I'll reassess when I get a little closer. For now, baby steps. 250 first, which will be around 20% of my body weight and will earn me another 25 pound token, then probably 225, and then 200. I don't see any harm in sticking with smaller goals right now, because the thought of having more than 100 left to lose is pretty overwhelming. I'm only 16.3 pounds away from my next goal of 250, and after today's weigh in, that seems very do-able!

(FYI: I do NOT hope to lose 7 pounds any other week--I know that's too much. I'd be a little freaked out if I didn't know how much those steroids for my bronchitis messed with me, and if I hadn't gone through that hellish Simply Filling week. Next week, I'm aiming for 1-2 pounds as usual.)

I Work Out (No I Don't)

There's something I'd like to share: I am lazy.

Seriously, I'm super lazy. Always have been. When I was in third grade, I would sit down in the middle of the soccer field and search for four leaf clovers. When I was in softball through elementary and middle school, I was the catcher so I wouldn't have to walk anywhere (I was a terrible catcher. I don't know why they let me do it. I would squat there, chewing sunflower seeds, halfheartedly tossing the ball back to the pitcher. By the end of the inning, the pitcher was always worn out from retrieving my errant balls and my sweaty face mask would be dotted with sunflower shells. Oy.)

My favorite part about any of the sports my parents forced me into was always, ALWAYS the snacks. Little Debbies, fruit snacks, Hi-C, Squeeze-its...they totally made it worth suffering through one crappy game after another. The entire time I was shuffling up and down the basketball court or relaxing in the dugout, I was fantisizing about the candy the parents would pass out when we were done. Working out was awful, but the candy reward got me through.

As an adult, I am even lazier. I ask my girlfriend to get everything for me. I have to sit down if I walk more than half a block. At Disney World, I had to have the next bench or low wall in sight before I waddled any further. Last year, I had to leave a haunted house through the emergency exit, not because I was scared but because I was so out of breath I thought I was going to pass out. Between my non-functioning heart valve and the chronic lung problems that began when I got sick in 2007, I have a good excuse to be lazy, and I pull the "heart problem card" all the time. I have my employees pick up papers from the printer for me, I make excuses to get out of meetings on the third floor because I don't want to climb the stairs, and I have even put off going to the bathroom because I didn't want to walk that far.

Seriously. So lazy.

Yes, the sloth is my spirit animal.

So one of the things that makes me nervous about Weight Watchers is the activity portion. I know that one of the major components of staying on Plan is to add activity to my life, but I have avoided it at all costs. I feel like I can't work out. I self-diagnosed myself as exercise intolerant. It's just laziness, but I don't trust myself to do too much.

One major scare a few years ago, the year after my open heart surgery, really made me never want to work out or increase my heart rate again. I had taken a tour of Mammoth Cave and we were on our way out. The exit required a trek up exactly 440 stairs--before we even hit the stairs, I was already out of breath, heart racing, and the very last person in the group except for the guide who was turning off lights behind me. I started up the stairs and barely made it a quarter of the way before I stopped, my legs quivering, pouring sweat. I began having my first true asthma attack...and guess who hadn't brought an inhaler? The asthma attack was bad enough, but looking up the remaining stairs made me want to die. The group slowly disappeared out into the sunlight and I was left with my nervous girlfriend and a guide urging me on. I got up another quarter of the way and then stopped and truly started to freak out. There was no other way out but up, and those two were NOT going to be able to carry me. Sooo...my asthma attack turned into a panic attack, and I was then convinced I was having an actual heart attack. I was so scared.

I was crying by then, shaking, and absolutely humiliated. I eventually made it up the stairs, one at a time, and had to make the ultimate walk of shame to the bus where the entire tour group was staring at me. Of course, I had to shoehorn myself down the bus aisle and I knew my face was a gross combination of green, gray, white, and bright red. I can't think of a time I was more embarrassed. That experience left me terrified of having another episode like it, so from that moment on I avoided all physical activity at all costs, particularly activity where I knew I'd be stuck if I couldn't go on (like hiking, which I love). And the longer I avoided moving, the less I began to move. By the time I started Weight Watchers, I was coming home and sitting on the couch for an hour before cooking supper, and then sitting on the couch for several more hours while my girlfriend got me drinks, food, and whatever else I needed. I pretty much only stood up to go to work or use the bathroom.

I'm extremely happy to say that things are changing.

It started when I was on the steroids--I had insomnia for several days, and instead of watching the television all night, I started cleaning. I organized cabinets, folded laundry, collected items to donate, sorted through junk drawers, and did everything I'd been putting off for years. I figured it was only because of the steroids but...well...I haven't stopped. I'm sleeping normally again and I've been off the steroids for a week, but instead of coming home and turning on the television, I'm straighting up the house, playing with the dog, or finding something to tidy up or repair.

This weekend, we went to an outdoor Christmas event and I didn't sit down once. I wandered along the canal and went into stores, when just months before I would have preferred to sit on a bench while my girlfriend walked around. On Sunday, I suggested we go to a Christmas display at the art museum and I walked so quickly through the grounds that my girlfriend struggled to keep up. Tonight, I went downtown and actually walked three blocks to meet up with my family, and then walked around for a little while, and then walked back to my truck--I NEVER would have agreed to do that before! I guess it's true what the commercial says: a body in motion stays in motion (yes, I realize that's a law of physics and not just a commercial). I'm definitely in motion.

And possibly even cooler? I haven't used my inhaler for weeks. I usually take a daily inhaler and then carry another one for emergencies--I stopped using both. I carry them in case I need them, but I have been walking around like a normal, healthy person and I haven't used an inhaler! Do you know how huge that is for me?!

Even though I don't see myself ever joining a gym (just the thought makes me anxious) or jogging around outside, I don't think I need traditional exercise to move more. I AM moving more. I'm walking, I'm going to events, I'm doing more now than I ever thought I would again. I had almost resigned myself to a life like the mom in What's Eating Gilbert Grape (I do need to talk about my grandmother at some point...I love her so much but ending up like her is my worst nightmare) so it feels incredible to finally get out and enjoy life. By the spring, maybe I'll even feel confident enough in myself to go for a hike--that would make me so extremely happy. No matter what the scale says tomorrow at weigh in, I am proud of myself. I feel like I'm slowly reclaiming my life, and it's awesome.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that the house is finally clean!

Picture Picture

Wednesday morning was the first time that I did a double-take when I passed the mirror. Despite the disappointment of finding out I gained weight at my meeting, I still feel like Wednesday was a success because I actually looked at myself and thought, "Dang! I look good!" I mean, I was shocked. I can't remember the last time I saw myself in a full length mirror and didn't immediately leap out of view. It was a weird feeling. I grabbed my phone and snapped a shot before heading in to work--where I was told by two people that I looked pretty. Who doesn't like to hear that they look pretty?! What a nice feeling.

Seeing the photo of myself was kind of a shocker. 30 pounds is a lot of weight. I really have lived in stretch pants and oversize shirts for years, so it's not like I've noticed my clothes fitting differently. I could probably pull my stretch pants over the couch and they'd fit. I haven't taken measurements (I just don't want to know how many inches it takes to get around my thighs) so my only real gauge so far has been the number on the scale.

When I was browsing through the Weight Watchers website earlier this week (during my Simply Filling debacle...I was looking for some inspiration to get me through) I began combing through the 100 pound lost stories. It's really nice to see so many people who have been where I am now, and who stuck with it and are enjoying life now 100 pounds lighter.

One of the women encouraged others to take photos along the way, as she regretted not documenting her own journey. I had been planning to eventually take a shot so I could see my progress but I hadn't actually taken one yet. Well, after snapping the picture in the mirror Wednesday, I was halfway to a progress shot. I just needed to find a good (and by good I mean terrible) "before" photo.

Finding a full body photo proved to be a lot harder than I thought--not because I photograph well (I don't.) but because I erase every. single. picture. that shows my full body. I hate looking at myself, and I don't think I've ever seen a full body photo and not gasped and grimaced and said "Ohmygod--doIreallylooklikethat?!"

I found two singular pictures from this year that had escaped deletion--I had to crop Theodore Roosevelt out of the first one (statue in Puerto Rico) and Willie Nelson out of the second (wax museum in Canada). I'm lucky I found either one. The first is from five months before I started Weight Watchers, when I weighed probably around 305 pounds (I started Weight Watchers at 304 pounds on August 8, but I hadn't been on a scale for so long I have no idea how heavy I was in March). The second was taken two weeks after starting Weight Watcher--I hit 298 pounds that week. The most recent photo, the one taken Wednesday, is possibly the first full body photo I've taken on purpose. And I kind of like it.

My Progress:

So, well, it looks like the effort is paying off. Even with a slight gain this week, I can't deny that my body is changing. My stomach is flatter, my waist is smaller, and I feel...almost hot again. It's a damn good feeling.

GAIN!

GGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m SO MAD to find that I gained this week! Only .2 pounds, but still. After this week of pure torture, I really thought I had to have lost, like, five pounds. No such luck. 

 

To be fair, .2 is not that bad. And I’ve been on steroids for over a week, so .2 pounds on steroids is especially not bad. But it’s hard to know that all of my deprivation this week was for naught. This does help reinforce what I suspected though: regular Weight Watchers just works for me. Not Simply Filling, but the regular Weight Watchers. I need to have the freedom to choose what I want to eat, and the limits in place with the Points to make sure I don’t eat too much. I need daily Points and weekly Points so I don’t feel like I’m starving every day. It’s been working well, and I can’t argue with success.

 

I’m ready to start this Weight Watchers week with a new appreciation for the Points I get to use each day. I’ve already gone a little overboard this morning (brunch pitch-in was a terrible idea) but I’m more or less on track for the rest of the day. And I finally feel like I can eat what I want again, so I’m less full of rage! Not totally thrilled since I netted a gain this week, but less rage-y. Less rage is always good.

Wish You Were Here

Since I'm spending more of my time than I thought updating this blog (which is a good thing--I think it's helping me think through some stuff and it's keeping me honest with my tracking), I decided to update the description last night. I didn't realize it would be right at the top of the page. I'm sure I can change it, but I don't mind it for now. My point is that I hadn't really decided yet what I want this blog to be.
 
It's starting to take the shape of an online journal (see, I'm still stuck in Livejournal mode) and becoming a place where I can lay out the shit in my head for examination.
 
One of the topics we talk about in our Weight Watchers meetings is why we want to lose weight in the first place. I've written about airplanes and amusement parks, about my heart and my health, about growing old with my girlfriend and having fun with my nephew. But one thing I haven't talked about is Rob.
 
Rob was my best friend. The best friend I've ever had. He's been dead now for one year and three months exactly. It was the hardest thing I've ever gone through (harder, even, than my dog dying the year before that, which had been incredibly difficult for a number of reasons and something I thought I'd never get over). One of the hard parts about accepting Rob's death was the fact that, although he was truly my best friend and I could not have imagined life without him, I hadn't seen him for many months. At the time of his death, he was living in a halfway house, trying to get clean from prescription pills and alcohol.
 
Rob and I had so much fun together. A lot of that fun was in college and we pushed one another, in what felt like a fun way, toward greater gluttony. We'd spend all day drinking and getting high, or go out for a three hour meal to stuff our faces. We lived together in several places at different times in our lives, but our lives together revolved around excess. Even a Monday work night was fun with Rob around because we'd slice up a block of havarti with a roll of butter crackers, break open a jug of wine, roll a few joints, spread out some cheesecake, pop a pill or two, and have ourselves a rollicking good time.
 
We ate, drank, and smoked everything that we could. We were absolute gluttons and lushes and sloths and whatever other ugly thing you can think to call us, but we had a fucking fantastic time together. Until morning. Mornings were awful. Sick, weak, our bodies basically giving out. This went on for several years, but eventually I started cleaning myself up and Rob started relying more heavily on alcohol.
 
By the time he was living in the halfway house, I'd already completely stopped smoking cigarettes. My open heart surgery was enough to scare me away from pills and uppers and drinking binges forever. I was eating like shit still, but I was living like a normal person at least.
 
Not Rob.
 
So it was hard to be around him. Talking to him was more and more painful because he'd pretend like he wasn't drinking, when I knew very well that he was slurring at 11am because he'd been drinking since 6am and swallowing Xanax since 7am. I tried to talk to him but he's as stubborn as I am, possibly more so, and he grew resentful. So I stopped trying.
 
I did get to speak with him a few days before he died, and he finally sounded like his old self. He said he had stopped drinking (a line I'd heard too many times by then) and wanted to get together. I couldn't that week but promised to see him by the end of the month. I found out that he died that Monday, and they identified his body a week and a half later.
 
When Rob died, my world turned upside down. My heart broke into a million pieces. Parts of me died that will never return. A part of my soul was ripped out. The world became a very scary and bitter place. Whatever plans I had for the future seemed meaningless. That novel I wanted to write? Screw it--I'd probably die before I wrote a page. Finally living life as a thin, healthy person? Yeah, right...I'd probably end up getting hit by a train on my way to the gym. I entered a nightmare and felt so incredibly, unspeakably alone.

I wasn't alone, though. And I didn't die with him, even though it felt like I might. As the roaring horror of what happened started to dull many dark months later, another sound started to take its place. It was fear, like a huge alarm going off in my head telling me that it was too late for Rob, but not too late for me. I felt like Ebeneezer Fucking Scrooge with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. I wasn't given a second chance exactly, but I was made painfully aware that Rob was not getting any more chances. He was done. I still had a chance and, even if I screwed it all up, it did help clarify for me that things that I wanted to change, given the time.
 
Of course, the real problem is that I don't know if I'll be given the time. No idea. None of us know. I might die tomorrow. I might die tonight. Can I say I'm happy with where my life has taken me? No, not really. There's a lot that I want to accomplish. But am I happy with where I'm taking my life? Well...yeah. At this moment, yeah. I'm finally headed in the right direction and it feels...good. It feels really good. I'm not where I want to be, but I'm on my way there. That's a lot more than I could have said a year ago. So if I had to add something to my list of reasons I want to lose weight, it's this: because I want to honor Rob's memory by changing my life in the ways he was trying to change his. I love him enough to see that he was getting better and his chances were taken away while he was fighting to get on the right path. As long as I still have a chance, I better be on the right fucking path.

Rob, I love you and miss you. I know you'd be proud that I've had the willpower to lose 30 pounds, and hopefully you'll be even prouder when I reach the end of my journey. One way or another, I'm reaching the end at some point--I might as well try to look  and feel good when I get there.

Hangry

I'm rounding out my Simply Filling week with negative eight Points...actually not as bad as I'd feared. I was okay until this evening--I made pineapple upside down cake for a work pitch-in and convinced myself that I had to sample it. The mini muffin versions were only one Point each but, um, I had four of them. That blew me over my 49 Points for the week. Once I crossed that line, it didn't seem so bad to have a cup of the cold, frothy grape juice in the fridge. Turns out that a cup is four freakin Points. Oh well! It was kind of worth it.

Especially after a week of such deprivation. I don't think I've thought this much about food since, like, the State Fair. Mmm, I love the State Fair. I basically just take a shuttle around and eat for eight hours straight. Not this year, though--it was my first month on Weight Watchers, so watch my weight I did. (I acknowledge that was a terrible pun.) This year, I broke it into two days, ate a filling and healthy supper before going, and tasted (but didn't finish) each dish I couldn't live without. I stayed within my Points for the week and still lost weight at the next weigh in. Score!

That's what I hate about the Simply Filling version of Weight Watchers. If I had been on Simply Filling during the State Fair, I would have blown my Points in one day and then stuck to Power Foods exclusively for the rest of the week. That's just not sustainable for my life. Maybe it's easier for carnivores, since there are plenty of meaty options that count as Power Foods. I get, what? Tofu, beans, and vegetarian patties. I can't stand vegetarian patties. I LOVE black bean burgers, but they're three Points. Seriously! I understand them being three Points on the regular Weight Watchers plan, but I 100% think they should count as a Power Food. If I could have eaten black bean burgers for zero Points this week, I probably could have lived through it without quite so much bitching. Some bitching, yes. But less. And I wish I could have eaten low fat cheese instead of fat free. And wheat bread instead of reduced-calorie bread. Sorry, done complaining again. It's just been SUCH A LONG WEEK. With SO MUCH HUNGER. And anger. And hanger. I hate being hangry. I'm miserable to be around, I'm snappy and grumpy, and I want to smack myself. I'm pretty surprised I didn't get smacked by anyone this week.

We'll see if it was all worth the effort tomorrow when I weigh in. The pitch-in at work is a brunch so it's right before we weigh in--poor planning on my part. Whoops! But  seriously, if I gained this week, I'm going to lock myself in the bathroom and cry. So few Points, so much effort! I can't wait to get back on the Weight Watchers I know and love, and put this Simply Filling shit behind me.

Oh, and I'll be off the steroids in just a few days also. And my, er, womanly cycle. So I'll hopefully be back to my normal (albeit hungry) self again shortly. More awesome, less hangry.

Fingers crossed for tomorrow!

Weight Watchers at Work

Still struggling through my final Simply Filling day. Still starving. 

 

One of my coworkers is also doing Simply Filling and I tried asking her how she’s been able to handle it. It turns out that she just doesn’t track anything—she estimates and tries to only eat Power Foods. Well, if I tried to estimate my Points without tracking and measuring, I could easily eat enough for a football team and still pretend like I had 49 Points left for the week. Not that she's cheating herself--I just know myself enough to know that I would absolutely, positively cheat. I'm in no way responsible enough to eat right now without measuring, tracking, and monitoring. I can't be trusted. My brain is too absorbed with food. Which is probably why she is happily chewing a caramel while I’m choking down my burnt 94% fat free popcorn and trying in vain not to think about cheese. 

 

At midnight tonight, I’m officially done with Simply Filling and back to my normal Weight Watchers. Thank goodness! A few more days like this and I would have stabbed someone. 

 

It’s really nice having my coworkers in Weight Watchers with me for the added support, but there are also a few extra challenges. For starters, none of them were really that big to begin with. These are girls who weigh 170 and who are trying to get to 150. I started at 304 pounds and I could still accidentally kill them if I sat on them. They actually joined Weight Watchers before me this time—it’s offered free at work, and we have other incentives (like gift cards) for participating. When they started losing weight after a few weeks, I joined and I haven’t looked back. I love having them here with great healthy snack ideas, Points-friendly contributions for pitch-ins, and for the little extra bit of shame I feel eating bad food in front of them. But, like my girlfriend, they don’t really get it. They’re not fat. They’ve never been fat. They’re fit and getting fitter…I’m fat and getting…well, somewhere. Maybe a little fitter? Sometimes I wish I was in meetings full of people my size, people who know what it’s like to endure the faces of other passengers on planes and busses when you can see them praying you don’t sit down beside them. People who know how it feels to sit through an entire meeting poised uncomfortably on the edge of a chair because you don’t know if it’ll hold you up when you put your whole weight on it. People who have walked into a store and not been able to fit into anything. People who know what it means to have SOCKS that are too tight. Who haven't been able to zipline because no ziplines are safe past 300 pounds. Who love to canoe but can't because the canoe will sit on the rocks. Who pick out glasses based on how much face fat bulges along the sides. Who can only fit one butt cheek into a folding chair at a concert. Who panic when sitting on the floor because there’s not a wall or table nearby to pull themselves up. Who have given up on belts. Who can’t wear jeans. Who cut tags out of shirts so no one will see the size. People like me.


I have a single pair of jeans, and they’re size 26. I haven’t even tried them on in months (although, after losing 30 pounds, they might be more comfortable). When I bought them, I was so ashamed of the size that I was gripped with terror at the thought of my girlfriend seeing the tag. I tore the paper tag up and soaked it in water until it dissolved and I could wash it down the drain. I cut out the fabric tag and snipped it into microscopic pieces, which I then folded into tissue paper, piece by piece, and flushed down the toilet, one at a time. And those were stretchy jeans! When I tried to find some denim shorts for a costume earlier this year, I had gone to the thrift store to find some men’s pants to cut up. I finally found the biggest pants there (size 50 in men’s) and brought them home. I haven’t put on anything that doesn’t stretch in years, so I was completely unprepared for that horrible feeling of pulling up the jeans and not being able to fasten them. Size 50 jeans and I couldn’t wear them. I ended up wearing a dress instead (as usual) and was depressed for weeks. The girls at work could use those pants as a tent, and I couldn’t even stuff my stomach into them. Ugh. 

So when they celebrate milestones like 10% weight loss, it’s after losing 15 pounds…not 30. I’m happy for their support and I’m glad they’re eating right, but I do wish there were more people like me around. Oh well…if I keep working hard at losing weight and working the Plan, hopefully I’ll be like them soon instead!

Simply Filling Sucks.

I totally would have caved today if I knew I wasn't going to be writing or telling anyone about it here! When I woke up, I remembered that today was a baby shower at work, and we were all gathering at a popular local pizza joint for lunch. Talk about a food trap. I was determined to stay strong. I only had seven Points left to complete my Simply Filling Technique week and I was hoping to use those points for my dessert each night. So the pizza place was truly torture. There were baskets of garlicky breadsticks, plates full of dipping sides, and an entire table full of hand-tossed gourmet pizza running with cheese.
 
What did I have? I packed some egg salad and reduced calorie bread, which I ate at my desk before we went to the baby shower/pizza gauntlet. Plus some pomegranate seeds mixed with sugar free Jell-O. Then I had some 94% fat free popcorn, and I was still hungry the instant I walked through the doors into cheese and pizza-scented heaven.

While everyone else passed oozing slices and fragrant breadsticks, I sat there with some cherry tomatoes, an overripe banana, and a clementine on my plate. It was maybe the saddest meal ever eaten at a pizza parlor.

I passed up the cupcakes as well. White and chocolate, with a mountain of blue frosting. They looked wonderful and really triggered my sweet tooth, but I think they were still easier to pass up then the pizza was. Stupid Simply Filling.

 

Tonight I had polenta and veggies with fat free cheese, and a salad with fat free Italian dressing (Still a Point! Grr!) and croutons made from my rosemary bread. I followed it quickly with another Smart Ones sundae, and with my last bite of dessert, my final Points were gone. Damn.

 

I'm still hungry right this minute! I think I could go raid the fridge and eat until I literally exploded. 

 

 

And I don't use the word 'literally' liberally. It feels like I could actually eat until I split through my skin.

 

I read on some Weight Watchers post that members have given themselves an extra seven Points during their first Simply Filling trial. I think that may have to happen--I don't think I'll be very pleasant to be around if I force myself to wait until Wednesday morning to eat anything with any Points value. Maybe I'm not strong enough, maybe I'm not doing something correctly, maybe I'm just too much of a glutton still at this stage to eat only Power Foods, maybe the steroids or Aunt Flo (gross, sorry) or finally feeling better after two weeks of bronchitis are all conspiring to turn me into a carbo-loading eating machine.

 

Whatever the reason, I'm willing to cheat and go over my weekly Points by up to seven if it means I can avoid eating my dog or turning on a small village, zombie-style. I suppose I could have counted all of the cleaning I did this weekend as Activity Points, but I still feel guilty counting Activity Points unless I'm, like, in workout clothes at the gym. Which hasn't happened yet and probably won't until I lose enough weight to be able to workout in public without humiliating myself. So there you have it.

 

Anyway, just one more day and I'll be gifted 43 magical daily Points on top of 49 weekly Points and I'll be so happy I won't know what to eat first!

Thinking About Food

Man, I'm really trying to keep my mind off of food today. I have seven points to get me through Monday and Tuesday, and I've been unintentionally torturing myself all day by watching Christmas movies. All of the cookies and cakes, the baking and decorating, the big meals and steaming bread. Eggnog and hot chocolate and buttery rolls and nutty cheese balls. Mmm. This Simply Filling week is at least making me recognize when I'm missing out on.

In place of the foods I drooled over on screen, I made a big batch of tofu bacon (mostly a Power Food--the bit of maple syrup I add is less than one point) and some cauliflower. I also spent some time organizing the kitchen. I've been spending a lot of time in there cooking, and it makes it so much easier to cook a complex, healthy meal from scratch when the kitchen is tidy enough for me to find everything.

I put my tofu bacon on reduced calorie bread with fat free mayo and fat free bread, and loaded it up with tomato slices. It was actually better than I thought it would be. But I wanted to make something a little more appealing for my girlfriend, so I made some quick pizza dough and baked her a big, cheesy tofu bacon calzone. I stuffed it with three cheeses, brushed it with olive oil, and finished it at the end with some garlic butter on top. It's like I'm living vicariously through the food I make her--plus, I have to work hard to make sure she doesn't lose so much weight that I give up again. If I can't brush my food with butter now, someone should be able to. Yes, I used to brush my food with butter. Not always, but it does make baked stuff twice as delicious. My family cooks like Paula Deen (and I have been to the Paula Deen buffet and waddled out with a purse stuffed full of bread and desserts--it is truly a magical experience). That's the last place in the world I would want to go today with only seven points left! I would probably have a stroke.

Anyway, my girlfriend needs the extra butter so she doesn't waste away.

See, she's one of those natural thin people. I don't understand people like her. If there's a candy bar in the house, it amazes me that she doesn't even think about it. If there's candy in the house, I am pretty much thinking about it until it's gone. She doesn't eat dessert--I don't consider a meal complete until I have something sweet in my mouth. She eats until she's full and then stops--I have never been able to naturally do that. So she doesn't get my weight loss experience, not really. She's incredibly supportive and helpful and amazing, but she doesn't get it.

The hard part about being the one to cook all of our meals is that she eats what I eat. When I start a diet or my meals take a healthier turn, she starts dropping weight like crazy. It's like those weight loss pill commercials--I try and try and try to lose a pound, and she starts shedding fat like a candle melting. She's on medication that boosts her metabolism even more, and she's much more active than I am. It's all extremely discouraging. When I lost a little weight before, I got so impatient that she was losing faster than I was that I totally gave up after a one week setback. I'm not blaming her. I'm just saying: when I change how I eat, she's the one who reaps the benefits first. Being so much smaller anyway, it's obvious when she's dropped five pounds, while I'm having trouble seeing that I lost 30.

So aside from the vicarious pleasure it gives me to bake her up flavorful, cheesy, buttery recipes, it also helps make sure that she's eating more wholesome food without going on a starvation diet. I wonder how other people do it. I can't imagine raising kids and having to choke down fat free cheese on diet bread while they scoop up macaroni and cheese with, like, french fries and milkshakes. I don't know. Whatever kids eat. I just know that my girlfriend's calzone looked a hell of a lot better than my sandwich, but if I can make it until Wednesday on Simply Filling, I'll be extremely proud of myself.

Sometimes testing your own willpower can be useful.

Entertaining Myself with Marcel the Shell

It's after midnight on a Saturday and I don't have enough Points to drink tonight, so how do a hip 30 year old and her equally hip girlfriend party it up? With crafts, of course!

My internet patterns are set back about a decade--I loved back when checking your friends' AIM away messages was the closest thing to Facebook stalking, and I look back on chatrooms with fondness and Twitter with horror--so it's no surprise that I haven't caught on to Pinterest. My girlfriend pins things incessantly, but I just don't understand all of  the pinning and boards. When I feel crafty, I make a craft. Myself. Having a billion tutorials in front of me would be overwhelming, and seeing the other crafters' perfect finished products would drive me nuts.

So please don't judge me if this doesn't look quite right. I didn't have the right kind of shell, but I really wanted to make a Marcel the Shell ornament.

I love him! :)

I think watching the Marcel the Shell video should be mandatory for everyone. He's just so adorable and optimistic. And Jenny Slate is hilarious! It makes me sad that she didn't last on Saturday Night Live--her little F-bomb cost SNL a really awesome cast member. Boo. But then she wouldn't have made Marcel, and the world definitely needs Marcel the Shell.

Anyway, I'm staving off my hunger with pineapple, popcorn, and another Smart Ones as we watch Christmas movies and craft. I'm down to 13 points left to get me through Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. That's a little rough. Now that the weekend's more than half over, I think I can make it...but I definitely do not plan to try the Simply Filling technique again anytime soon. Maybe  if  when I reach my ultimate goal and start maintenance, I'll be able to sustain myself with Simply Filling and it won't feel like such torture. That's a long way off, though. Until then, I'm going to appreciate having Points every day and extra Points through the week, because this experience has taught me that not having them sucks!

Hunger Pangs

I AM SO HUNGRY.

I'm down to 22 points for the week because I can't stop snacking. Seriously, last night I ended up scraping up all of the leftover Bananas Foster I made for my girlfriend and eating it like a creep in the dark (which I counted as two Points, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was more). I snuck a few broken Baked Ruffles and wasn't going to count them until the guilt caught up with me and I counted them as a Point. Then I ate three cups of popcorn at, like, 4am because my stomach was keeping me up. Then I wanted something sweet so I squeezed a big dollop of whipped cream on my finger and ate it--I only counted it as one tablespoon so I wouldn't have to count a Point, but now that the secret's out, I'm going to admit it was more like two tablespoons, which means I'm now down to 21 points. F*CK. I finally knocked myself out with some ZzzQuil and slept until 10am, at which point I woke up even more ravenous. I made us breakfast sandwiches with light English muffins, eggs, and American cheese (two more points), then chugged a glass of skim milk, gobbled down a cup of grapes, popped a few salted cherry tomatoes, and I STILL feel like I'm dying.

 

Seriously, I just want to stuff my face. I want to cram food into my mouth until I can barely swallow, and I want to wash it down with a milkshake and a Pepsi. I can't even imagine how many Points I could attack right now!

 

Simply Filling is NOT working for me at the moment. My girlfriend is at the store right now trying to find me reduced calorie bread (since my delicious bread from yesterday apparently isn't a Power Food), sugar free Jell-O (I have a weird Splenda sensitivity, so she has to hunt down aspartame desserts...great, more chemicals), fat free mayo (we only had low fat, but I need something to mix with my hard boiled eggs to make a Power Food-only egg salad sandwich), and fat free dressing.

Not, mind you, just any fat free dressing. Nope, when I tried to look up fat free dressing on the Weight Watchers app, it showed that only fat free vinaigrette is a Power Food. Guess whose grocery store doesn't have ANY fat free vinaigrette? We have fat free Italian, fat free Catalina, all kinds of fat free dressings. No vinaigrette. She's getting the fat free Italian because it's showing up as zero Points, even though it's not counted as a Power Food. Well, it's zero Points for one tablespoon, 1 Point for two. Fat free vinaigrette...still zero. How crazy is that? The Weight Watchers tracker (which I use most often) says only fat free vinaigrette is a Power Food, but the Weight Watchers Power Food website says any fat free dressing and fat free mayo is a Power Food, while the Weight Watchers Power Food PDF doesn't list either fat free dressing OR fat free mayo in the Power Food list, and neither the old or the new 360 pocket guides list fat free dressing/mayo as Power Foods. Again, this Simply Filling shit is CONFUSING.

With all of these fat free goods, the entire grocery trip is like a shopping spree at the chemical plant. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to count all of the 'natural' ingredients on one hand. I hate loading my body with this many chemicals trying to stay on the Simply Filling plan. Of course, I'm eating plenty of fruits and veggies (begrudgingly), but I don't have that "yay, I'm actually filling my body with delicious whole foods loaded with nutrients!" feeling that I've had the past few months. Now I feel like I'm embalming myself.

Still, I AM planning to stick with it until my meeting. I may be hungry now, but I'm willing to stay with it, if only because I still have more than a week left of my steroid/prednisone treatment to clear up this bronchitis. I don't want to go off Simply Filling and find that I've gained 10 pounds back because of the steroids. (If that happens, will they make me give back the Weight Watchers 10% keyring and 25 pound token I got last week?...I know in my head that they won't, but seeing the keyring/token if I gain back weight is really going to piss me off.)

This starvation better pass soon. It's not fair to completely blame Weight Watchers Simply Filling because there are other factors at play here--the steroids may finally be increasing my appetite as I'd feared, the cold weather is making me feel like hibernating, being at home instead of at work puts all kinds of food options in front of me even though many of them are healthy enough on the regular Weight Watchers tracking, and I think my *ahem* time of the month may be approaching because I keep fantasizing about rivers of chocolate and Snicker bar rafts.

I think I'll try to scrounge up some fruit and whip up a Power Food smoothie before working on some zucchini chips, garbanzo nuts, cauliflower bites (I'll lighten them up and count it as my oil), and some egg salad to get me through this weekend.

If my starvation is from the steriods, I'm going to have to deal with it for another week. Until then, I need to make good choices and keep the damned whipped cream can out of my hands. No, I don't want to get rid of it because whipped cream is one splurge I love to add to my desserts and because it makes me happy. However, I'll try to wait until this Simply Filling torture test if over since I can't spare the Points.

I need this on my fridge as a reminder:

Forget about weekend drinks or Christmas candy...I just want to make it through this weekend without having a Hulk attack, ripping the doors of the pantry and fridge, and stuffing all of the food down my throat with both hands. Back to the kitchen to try to make something that's a Power Food but that actually has real food in it, instead of unpronouncable chemicals and potentially toxic-sounding substitutions for nutrients...maybe then I'll stop being so whiny. I'm getting on my own nerves.

Not-So-Simply Filling

Simply Filling is a lot harder than it sounds.

Especially if you're a vegetarian who doesn't like vegetables.

I'm struggling today with sticking to the Weight Watchers Simply Filling technique. I felt a lot better about things yesterday. I am determined to keep up with Simply Filling until my meeting next Wednesday, but Wednesday seems a loooong time away right now!

I thought I had a great Power Food supper planned--butternut squash soup with rosemary bread. I attempted to make the bread into a Power Food by swapping out 3/4 of the white flour with white wheat flour, and by using olive oil spray. It was definitely delicious, but I didn't realize until I tried tracking the meal that the bread isn't technically a Power Food.

Bummer. But it WAS really good! And I liked making my own bread and knowing everything that went into it. Worth the effort and the points, but it won't work this week for Simply Filling.

I've been scouring the internet for a solution, but it seems like the only reduced calorie breads that count as Power Foods are commercially prepared. That's because the calories are swapped with scary sounding chemicals. How disappointing. I made the bread in hopes of using it for tofu sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, and croutons this weekend. Now I can, but I have to count each slice as two points. Le sigh.

After the two slices of bread and a Smart Ones Chocolate Chip Sundae tonight, I'm now down to 27 points left for the week. 27 points doesn't amount to much when I'm trying to make them last until Wednesday. It leaves me wondering if I am eating enough anyway. I'm pretty hungry. Or a lot hungry. I glanced in front of me and thought for a second that I had a bowl of cheesy, gooey, crunchy nachos in front of me--then I realized it was a bowl full of torn and empty pomegranate peels. What I wouldn't give for a big ass bowl of nachos right now. Sure, I could go make some, but then I'd have no points left for the week and I might become stabby. No one needs that.

The Smart Ones was totally worth the four points, by the way. I love these things. I know I can't depend on these junk food-type snacks, but they keep me from feeling deprived. And they're just so good!

Oh yeah, before my nacho tangent I was saying I thought I may be eating too little. For comparison's sake, I plugged my food from today into SparkPeople and was told that I had eaten 920 calories out of a recommended 1440-1790. That doesn't seem right. I'm still tracking the measurements of my food for Weight Watchers so I can look back and see what worked and what didn't, so I know I measured accurately. It just doesn't seem like I should have used 8 points of my weekly Simply Filling points today when I've only eaten 920 calories.

I'm hungry. And I'm not sure if these 27 points are going to get me through the weekend, let alone until my next meeting. And I really, really want some nachos.