Posts Tagged ‘weight loss’
I’ve tried this Weight Watchers Points thing before. Come to think of it, I’ve tried every diet known to mankind and then some. I’ve tried eating diets, starvation diets, one-food diets, soup diets, veggie and fruit diets, protein-no-carb…carb-no-meat…if you can name it, I’ve tried it (with the exception of Nutri-System. One of my oldest besties tried it earlier this spring and had a hankering to hunt down Marie Osmond and kick her lying, overprocessed-food filled body for fibbing about the deliciousness of what my friend termed “expensive cardboard crap”.
And every single one of the diets started with a bang. No one ever has a bad first day of dieting, do they? There’s something intrinsic in the human spirit that makes us excited, thrilled, wound up to start something new, whether it’s a lifetime eating plan or a college class. That first day is always exciting, always hopeful and full of promise, easy to navigate because there’s some invisible boost of happiness that keeps us facing even the worst pitfalls with a smile on our face.
Until reality sets in. Today was reality. And for the first time in my dieting life, I did not lie. Not on the scale, because I still don’t really have the courage to weigh myself (tomorrow, I promise)–instead in my point accounting. Might not sound like a big deal, but one of my biggest problems in trying to shed this extra ass over the years is not being honest when it comes to calorie counts. In some cases, it’s because I’m ashamed that I’ve eaten so much. In some cases, it’s because I don’t think “a little bite of this” or “a tiny taste of that” will matter. In some cases, I’m just being a lazy ass and don’t want to take the time to poke in my points.
But today was different. Yesterday I managed to turn off the constant urge to shove stuff in my mouth, what with all the extra post-graduation party food lying around, and I tried to build on that. I made a healthy breakfast, decent lunch, chose wisely with the help of my iTouch at dinner and even added the small cone from DQ that Dogger made me order against my will. Am I scared that I spent 10 more points on my food today than I was allotted at the start? Hell yes. But I am also watching my activity points increase and like the sense of challenge they are creating in me. I’ve tallied 8 total activity points, which will begin being used once I burn up my extra 35 points, so in the meantime my new temporary goal is to work toward growing my stash of activity points to 20 by the end of the week. It’s alternately difficult and easy to grow those points, and maybe I’m just a little bit jr. high in the fascination I’m getting by calculating point possibilities, but I’m ultimately proud that I didn’t lie by omission on those points today.
There is always tomorrow…but donuts are only a measly 7 points…
I’m a creative mind. And as such, I have an infinitely difficult time making decisions. Of all kinds.
Coffee, tea?
Sugar, Splenda?
Blow dry, air dry?
Clean undies…ok, I never travel that route, much to my mother’s relief. Because you never know when that often-talked-about car will come out of nowhere and hit you…
It should be no wonder I can’t decide what form I want my WLR (weight loss resolutions) to take. Do I want to lose pounds? Inches? Sizes? Spare tires? (I do think the Michelin Man and I have far too much in common). Better eating? More exercise?
My god, it’s truly overwhelming to decide what I want. Even if I could make up my mind I wouldn’t know what I wanted.
Yesterday, I slummed around and thought about this goal. I’ve actually had a couple of ideas bouncing around on the brain cave walls, along with those cute monkeys playing the cymbals, for a few months on things I’d like to do:
1. Give up french fries and real pop (soda to you New Yorkers)
2. Work out 30 minutes a day, 5 times a week
3. Walk the dog 20 minutes per day
4. 10 minutes of yoga and/or meditation per day.
These sound like huge time-suckers, but what’s nifty in my life is that, for the most part, I have the time to do them.
I just don’t. Obviously I don’t or my ass wouldn’t be approaching a size where every cartographer I meet on the street does a double-take. I really have no one to blame but myself on this one. My lazy-ass self. Do you hear that, self?
I like these goals. Not resolutions, because resolutions suggest forever–and who’s to say I won’t be shipwrecked sometime on a remote desert island with a spear-toting band of natives and a case of Coke? But the goals themselves lend credence to the thought that I can do something, however small, to get this body at rest into motion. And we all know that bodies in motion tend to stay in motion (or, at least you should if you’re married to Mr. Science like me).
Now, to get to a section of this post relevant to the title…
These goal-utions (my word, goals + resolutions) have not been on paper (or, if you’re getting technical, pixels) until this very post. But, me in my big-mouth state, has been lamenting my fatness for some time. I make all kinds of mouth-promises I never keep: exercise, eat right, develop a stronger Spanx, etc.) One that I’ve said for a while is that I’m giving up fries.
I don’t even like fries. Ok, that’s a little lie: there are a few (two and a half) places who serve fries that I like. One is the little corner bar at the end of my street. They’re exactly like fair fries, not complete without salt and vinegar. Always piping hot and palate-blistering. Love ‘em. The second is Roosters, where the fries (not all that great) come slathered in cheese and bacon (all that great). I suppose I don’t even like the fries–I could technically get a dish of the jalapeno cheese sauce covered in bacon and keep to my goalution. And yes, there’s a .5 place where I like fries–like all red-blooded Americans, I love McDonald’s fries–but ONLY when palate-blistering hot. And getting them that way is a literal crap shoot. More often than not I eat a few and save the rest for the dogger. She loves her some fries!
I can give up McD’s no problemo. I don’t eat there but once a month at most. Roosters…pretty easy. I actually like their salad. Those aren’t words you hear every day. Or ever. I just feel nice today. But Memories’ fries are better than anything on the menu except the reuben. I could just eat a basket of those and no food. I’m going to have a hard time giving those up–not that we eat there a lot, either. (I can’t help it if the waitresses–and owner–know what we want without asking. They must have good memories or something…)
So, while I hadn’t written down these goal-utions, I’ve still blabbed enough about a few of them that even stoneheads like Mr. Science take notice. I’ve stopped ordering fries at Roosters, instead choosing to pilfer a few from the kid. So when we went to Memories last night with the in-laws, I wasn’t paying attention to myself or my goal-utions. I ordered a burger straight up and, without hesitation, the fries. After all–it wasn’t in writing anywhere. I didn’t technically screw up my goalutions if I didn’t actually set them, did I?
About ten minutes into our wait, Mr. Science turns to chat me up. “What did you order?”, he asks.
“Blue Cheese burger and fries.”
His gaze turns slightly thoughtful, slightly smug. “I thought you were giving those up for the new year,” he informs the table. Nothing says “I love you” while attempting to prove you wrong in front of parents.
“Oh, I thought about it,” I recovered. “I’m not starting officially til Monday.” I feel the need to slap the sneer off his face. “Besides, if I didn’t write it down yet, it’s not an official resolution. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Well, since today is tomorrow, and I’ve put it down in writing, I guess I’m giving up fries forever and ever. and ever. I just hope when my plane crashes, it’s nowhere near Idaho. And Mr. Science isn’t around to rub it in.
I’m not the resolution type. I mean–of course I’ve set resolutions in the past. I’ve resolved to be nicer (but I still hate certain people from my past who locked me in a closet at a Girl Scout meeting), resolved to be a better mom (and I have–I bought the kid a Wii after listening to his complaints for over a year, only to have him save his money and buy himself a PlayStation 3), resolved to clean the house more often (sometimes holidays just aren’t enough).
I’ve had differing amounts of success with resolutions. Some come and go, some stick around for a few years until I shed the need for them like a snake sheds skin. But one of them–ONE of them–that got started back in the mid 80s still hangs around my head in the New Year stretch of the holiday season like a buzzing gnat that refuses to die off in the cold, Ohio winters. Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about here–you do. You just won’t admit it yourself at the risk of realizing you’ve been doing the same damn thing.
Weight loss.
If you’ve lived our American consumeristic, infomercial-based capitalistic society for any length of time and haven’t set a goal to A) lose weight , B)eat less, C)exercise more, or D) replace two meals a day with a powdered mix that tastes like a combination of cocoa, saccharin and sawdust, then my post does not apply to you. Consider yourself excused. Go flit around someone else’s blog–what we discuss here will bore you senseless. (But, if you’re lying to me and yourself by saying you’ve never set a diet resolution because you’re going to feel the guilty sting of a goal not accomplished and you don’t like feeling like a failure, read on at your own risk).
I really don’t set resolutions anymore, much. I have learned, through trial and error and failure, to set my writing goals by the quarterly change of the calendar. This keeps them fresh for me. It really does work, too. But in adopting this plan for my writing, I’ve left my weight loss goals in the dust. I don’t set them anymore because I know I’ll fail them. I’ve been working harder to accept myself–my overweight self–the way I am, and that’s not cutting it, either. So, as I pondered the new year, the fact that I am now into 16W pants again, a place I SWORE I would never be again in my life after eight months of carrot sticks and skim milk, I have to shift my thinking. Not into setting a resolution to lose weight so I can finally be the girl who fits into Jordache jeans (hey, I told you this started in the 80s. Don’t make me bring out the rest of those fashion memories…), but the adoption of a mindset that will lead me into facing my 40s (16 short months away) in a healthy body. I’m not after size or scale number (liar, but seriously), but instead a mentality that will have me searching for ways to cut out the crap and leave my life only with the good stuff.
And since I’m so easily embarrassed by social media public humiliation tactics, I figured–where better to start this journey and blab it all over town than my blog? I debated changing the name, but hey, I may eventually be in a size 12 but I’ll still love me some donuts. Plus–I am soooooo done with fad diets and all that stuff–I want to learn to be healthy and still sneak in a donut or two. Look at Homer–he scarfs them regularly and still leads a (semi) active life. I’m not talking cramming in a half-dozen at a sitting like I’ve done in the past, but everything in moderation.
Except my blogging. Once I realized the potential for publicly humiliating myself into action via blogging, I jumped at the chance. I suppose, like all writing endeavors, I will start strong and dwindle later, but with the addition of my new iPod touch (and a strong wifi connection), I may be able to blog more often. Shame they won’t be as rambling as this post, I know, but at least you’ll know I didn’t fall down a healthy, whole-grain rabbit hole on my way to skinnydom.
With all that said..erm…typed…let’s get this show on the road.