Some Inconvenient Truths

Here is the truth.

A.) I am down a total of 16 lbs.
B.) As of May 27 I was down a total of 17.2 lbs.
C.) Some simple algebra would tell us that if A + B does not = C or something like that, I wasn't a math major after all, some things went askew.

Perhaps now would be a good time to tell you what I am actually doing to try and achieve my goals. Well, simply, I am eating less and moving more. I am keeping a food journal, as I described, through an app on my iPad and iPhone - the Calorie Tracker on livestrong.com (a pretty gnarly site, by the way, thanks to Lance and his increased oxygen-carrying-capacity awesomeness). My goal calorie intake is 1260. I came to this number by filling out a questionare on the site about lifestyle, current weight and height and goal weight loss per week.

Another truth...

I don't really know with a hundred percent certainty if this calorie goal is really what I need to attain my goal, destination skinny jeans.

I am trying to eat very healthy - my "secret weapon" is shoveling some kind of raw green vegetable in my mouth whenever I am hungry and my mind starts wandering into some king of fantasy stupor where I, instead, shovel Nutella in my mouth by the spoonful. I am eating mostly at home, measuring out my portions, eating small frequent meals, keeping healthy snacks in my purse when I go out of the house to run errands and drinking lots of water. I am desperately trying to keep that yucky feeling of deprivation at bay by allowing myself a "treat" most days like a Skinny Cow ice cream treat or a 100 calorie milk chocolate bar from Trader Joes. I also do a "free meal" once a week. I usually try to save this for date night out at a restaurant (where it can be nearly impossible to correctly estimate calories anyway). For so many weeks The Plan was working beautifully, I was averaging at least 2 lbs of weight loss a week.

So what the hay happened?

I got sloppy. I didn't track my food - part circumstantial, part laziness. I didn't exercise enough. I made too many excuses for poor choices.

The truth...

I felt frustrated and disappointed in myself. Because, I'm not sloppy and I'm not lazy - why was I allowing myself to treat my body this way? UGH, UGH, double UGH!!!

The truth...

This is really hard. And I'm mostly doing a great job. I've had some people (randoms that aren't blog followers) ask me if I have lost weight. So, some loss must be evident, but so far I can't tell. I don't see anything different in the mirror, I'm still wearing the same size I was 16 lbs ago. I think that some physical evidence of all of this work would help me a little bit in the motivation department.

Last truth for today...

My slip-ups were all last week and I should have blogged about them then. I probably needed help, but I suppose I didn't want to own up to it all. I recovered this week and am back on track, doing my thing. I hope I don't have to wait too much longer before I can reward myself by pulling out those perfectly pressed pair of jeans I haven't worn in two years.

One Republic for Which I Ran

I have a new favorite song. Actually, thirty minutes ago I think it transitioned from being my new favorite song into being my new mantra. I played this song five times during my run tonight. I was exhausted putting on my tennis shoes, exhausted only because I had an absolutely wonderful day, a day chock full of nourishing dear and precious friendships, running errands with my sister and playing with my daughters. It was a great day. And the last thing I wanted to do to conclude it was run.

But run I did.

And I did so by simply placing one foot in front of the other - right, right, right, right, left, right, right, right, right, left, right, right, right, I kept marching on.

Thank you, One Republic for your beautiful lyrics. How did you know what I wanted to say?

There’s so many wars we fought,
There’s so many things we’re not,
But with what we have,
I promise you that,
We’re marching on,
(We’re marching on)
(We’re marching on).
This is the beginning of the chorus to the song, and I love it so much because sometimes I can become very fixated on all of the things that I am not. Wow, there are so many things that I am not. I'm not perfect, in fact I say, far more often than I should, that I don't really even feel as though I am great at anything. I feel good at a lot of things, but great... I am not. Ugly, defeatist self talk, I know. I'm trying to demolish thoughts like this and I'm doing a much better job, but focusing on things that I am not is a trap I very easily fall into. There is a compellingly unifying power about joining someone in a fight for something... a fight for freedom, a fight for life. My fight may be microscopic on the spectrum of contests, but here in my corner of the room, it feels like a really big battle. But, I promise you that... I'll keep marching on.

We’ll have the days we break,
And we’ll have the scars to prove it,
We’ll have the bonds that we save,
But we’ll have the heart not to lose it.

For all of the times we’ve stopped,
For all of the things I’m not.

We put one foot in front of the other,
We move like we ain’t got no other,
We go when we go,
We’re marching on.
I've been thinking about game changers. Poignant moments, dates in my history that changed the course of my life forever.
1.) June 1992 - the summer I had brain surgery after a freak softball accident - game changer. It's when I knew I wanted to practice medicine. It was also a moment in my life that I really learned to lean on God.
2.) August 1995 - I was twelve and I met my husband - game changer. But it wouldn't be until 1999 that I thought of him as anything but a slightly awkward, skinny genius that talked too fast.
3.) September 11, 2001 - game changer for everyone, but for me it was the day that I went from wanting to "practice medicine" to knowing I was absolutely, without a doubt, meant to be a nurse.
4.) April 7, 2005 - the day my mom died - game changer, in every way possible. And that was a time that I absolutely survived by putting one foot in front of the other.
5.) April 24, 2008 and December 27, 2009 - the birth dates of my two babies. It was these dates that changed everything that had changed before them.
My hope is that I can add April 26, 2011 to that list. It was the day I really committed to this blog, the day I asked for your help. I'll tell ya, twenty-five days in... it feels like a game changer.
The last two weeks I've lost exactly two pounds each. This is keeping exactly with my goal weight loss of two pounds a week. You'll notice the weight loss ticker I added on the right hand side of the screen. This is my total weight loss from the beginning of the year, when I actually started the blog (although I didn't share it with anyone). So with 14.4 pounds down and 50.6 to go - you know what I'm gonna do.... keep marchin' on.

And if you have any killer workout songs, feel free to suggest. I'd love some more mantras.

The Un-Wed War

For about the last one and a half years I've been un-married. Meaning, I haven't been wearing my wedding or engagement rings. Being un-married isn't what it is cracked up to be, you'd think people would look at me with some pity, "oh, that poor single mom struggling with two toddlers, perhaps I'll chase down that cart full of Trader Joe's groceries speeding away from the trunk of her car." There has been none of that. And I'm certainly not getting hit on more by random guys, unless you count the homeless dude at the Westwood Parks and Rec Center yelling profanity as I walked by, and I don't. I miss wearing my rings. I miss having that cute little tan line on the ring finger of my left hand which proclaims "I'm taken." I love being married to my husband. I love it. So, one may ask, why then are you un-married? My rings do not fit. Not even a little bit. I shoved my ring on (with the help of windex and some glycerin soap) for some family portraits we had taken back in November. Poor choice. I nearly had to have someone saw off my finger to return the blood flow. And you can't even see my ring in any of the pictures! What a waste. Comfortably donning my rings again, without having to get them re-sized is a goal of mine. There have been countless numbers of times that I've nearly taken it to a jeweler so I could wear it now. I probably should have done so. But there always comes a knee jerk, "NO!!! You can do it. You can lose the finger fat. I believe. I believe. I believe." And as the "I believes" start to crescendo, I believe it too. I do realize that after having two babies a slight adjustment might need to be made (I hear my mommy friends comments already) and I'm completely willing to re-size my ring, if after having reached my goal weight loss it still fits uncomfortably. But, for now, the chanting I hear, the "I believe," chorus, it sounds a lot more like my voice.

I am very happy to share that since my last blog post I have lost 6.2 lbs. WOW!!! I'm not really even doing anything all that crazy. You have been the difference. Your offers to walk on the beach with me or run and hike with me or do yogahop with me, your conscious effort to use ground turkey in chili rather than ground beef when I come over, your calls and emails and hugs and excitement and follows have been the difference. I love that when I choose apples over bread rolls or green beans over cheese dip that I feel good. You are part of that choice. In my moments of real weakness, and even floating on this high of love and support and faith you have placed in me to reach these goals, I feel absolute moments of pure weakness, I gain power from you. Thank you for the magic of your love, it has pulled me up by my boot straps and I feel really, really good.

A Recruitment Letter of Sorts

Hi.

I need your help. Let me rephrase that, I desperately require your assistance. I am in the need of your aid.

I have found myself alone, powerless, lost and literally swallowed whole by my excess weight. I don't feel like myself. I feel depressed. I feel humiliated. I am scrapping the bottom of my willpower barrel. I may go so far as to say that I have no willpower left, I am most definitely in a slump. A slump that I like to refer to as "my twenties." Now, those of you who know me well know that I've been through a lot since I first turned 20 years old, and I'm sure more of that will be examined here through the next several months, but what I want to make absolutely clear here is that I refuse, flat out refuse to waste another decade of my life, year of my life, month of my life, day of my life in this state of unhappiness. I am in the process of un-slumping myself. And as my friend Dr. Seuss likes to say, "when you're in a a Slump, you're not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done."

Short of joining Overeaters Anonymous (I almost did) or paying for a support system through Weight Watchers (which I also almost did) I decided to customize my own program and utilize the support system I already have in place, you my family and friends. This means coming clean, exposing myself in a way that is both excruciatingly embarrassing and at the same time extremely liberating. I am terrified. I'm scared that no one will read this, I'm scared that everyone will read it. I'm afraid that when you read it you might just roll your eyes or make fun of me. I'm terrified that even once exposing myself that I'll still feel alone, powerless and lost. I fear that no one will celebrate with me or help keep me accountable. Make no mistake, this is a weightloss blog, if that just ain't your cup of tea, I get it. Please only continue to read this if you can join me in my weightloss journey and help me in positive, productive loving ways. I have enough negativity to combat already, I don't need more. My hope is that this space will be a place for me to come say what I need to say - lay out my goals and my plans to achieve them, document my progress, learn from what I do and what I leave undone. My hope is that this will also be a place that you will come to check in on me. I hope that you will share with me - your thoughts, words of encouragement and stories of your own.

I have a hope that I am not nearly as alone, powerless and as lost as I feel.

If my letter of recruitment has moved you (meaning my propaganda was effective, ah ha!) please join as a follower of my blog. Doing so is easy, simply click on the FOLLOW tab to the right and follow the instructions. Let me know if you have difficulties, I'll try to help. I'm not sure how often I plan to post on here, my minimum is once a week, maybe more. We'll see. I am just so thankful for your help.

"And will you succeed?
Yes! You will indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!


So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So... get on your way!"

- Oh, the Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss

There is No Try

1.) Drink only water.
2.) Never eat alone.
3.) Eat sitting down, at a table.
These are my simple attainable goals for the week, they probably even seem silly. They only seem silly because you don't know how brilliant they are... these three goals directly and yet discreetly attack some of my most prohibitive habits - drinking my calories. OK, obvious. Eating by myself or in secret, embarrassing but true. (Plus, besides being my goal of the week and new weight loss accountability technique, "Never Eat Alone" is the revolutionary secret to success, one relationship at a time according to Keith Ferrazzi - Harvard MBA, son of a steelworker and networking extraordinaire.) And these goals help to combat my DLS, Diane Lane Syndrome. Let me explain, Diane Lane was in a very bad film, Must Love Dogs, in the movie, she's at a grocery store deli counter ordering a single chicken breast. When she requests only one chicken breast the clerk politely suggests that she order more so that she can take advantage of the sale price, at first she declines but the clerk persists, gently trying to help her take advantage of the daily special, to which she charmingly and hysterically melts down and says, "I usually eat alone, most of the time standing over the kitchen sink, I don't want a bunch of extra chicken lying around!"
I have been feeling defeated. A little beaten down by some mishaps and maladies over the last month and full on just peeved at myself for losing control. I need some help. I need some support. I need some success.
Success I will have.
I am emerging from the dark side, taking only what I bring with me. I believe, that is why I succeed.

Feeling Heavy

"If you've ever been fat, you will either be fat for the rest of your life or you will worry about being fat the rest of your life." I came across those words 20 years ago in the play "Fighting International Fat," by Jonathan Reynolds. A pretty obscure place to find the underlying thesis of your waking life, but one doesn't get to choose. That casual observation struck me with the profound power of its obvious truth, much like Kafka's observation, "The meaning of life is that it ends." Kafka did not then add, "...but once you're dead, you won't gain weight." Which I would have found comforting. -- Peter Sagal

I read this in Runner's World Magazine on Saturday (at work, out of boredom) and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. This is the verbalization of my greatest fear. This will never be completely over, I will be struggling with this my whole life. 
Makes me feel heavy.  

A Still Small Voice

I am a very conscious eater... I painstakingly plan out the meals I prepare for my family, I labor over healthy cookbooks and recipes on foodnetwork.com that look simple, healthy and delicious. I chose ingredients diligently at the grocery store or farmers market – often examining 2 or 3 pints of strawberries before I find one with uniform berries of the right shape, scent and ripeness. I keep a variety of healthy snacks on hand, I do my best to buy local and organic when possible. I'm good at these things, I take pride in them. Until I don't.
On a whim, or strategically planned outing where I'll happen to pass by the drive-thru Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, I'll grab a Large White Chocolate Iced Latte. Conscious thought, yes, conscious eating, no. I unconsciously just consumed 490 calories.
This is why I've chosen to keep a food journal, it forces me to be conscious, present and accountable  for the calories I consume. I'm currently using an ipad application calorie counter which I've nicknamed Jiminy Cricket. It is a very helpful tool, when I utilize it. For the last two weeks I haven't had access to my food journal and you'd think I'd lost my damn mind. I've been eating things I would never eat if I had to write them down – what like if there is no record, it didn't happen? The problem with Jiminy Cricket is that he can only help when he's around to get you out of trouble. I can't use my food journal as a crutch, it has to be what it is... a tool. A tool designed to help me be a more conscious eater. The thing is, when food is your problem, the way it is for me, it is also the solution. It will save me or it will kill me. And I'm not necessarily talking about death in most disastrous of ways (though it will do that too) but I'm saying that feeling bad about myself, feeling fat and undesirable and useless and tired and ugly and lumpy and gross kills me. I'm embarrassed about the way I look and feel and the poor choices I make – consciously or unconsciously. So Jiminy Cricket, you ain't my crutch anymore. I may use you, but I will not rely on you. You are just too damn flaky.