Posts Tagged ‘body’

Weighting

Friday, July 13th, 2012

That is the face of someone who feels guilty for cheating on her “I’ve gotta lose 15 pounds in 3 weeks” diet but who REALLY enjoyed her Five Guys burger for lunch. And also enjoys playing with her new iPhone photo app.

I fell off the Weight Watchers bandwagon during the cruise back in March. Despite my plans to get back to counting as soon as I got home…or as soon as the weekend was over…or right after this ice cream cone…I never really did. It was a great plan and absolutely works as long as you ACTUALLY DO IT. But I stopped. So I stopped losing weight. And then I gained back almost 20 pounds of the 30 I had lost because no matter HOW many times I tell myself “Oh yes, I’m making healthy choices!” I constantly underestimate what I’m eating. It’s just SO EASY to eat 500 calories worth of cookies while telling myself I’m only eating 200 calories worth of cookies while also telling myself I didn’t eat ANY cookies what are you talking about I’ve had nothing but carrot sticks all day oh right.

So I officially stopped throwing my money into Weight Watchers and downloaded the LoseIt app. I like it a lot but – AGAIN, shockingly – you only lose weight if you’re actually following the calorie guidelines and tracking what you eat. I’m good at it for about 4 days in a row and then I fall HARD off the plan and stuff my face. Someone recently told me a cheat day actually helps you lose MORE weight so I’m pretending hoping that’s true. I’ve also restarted the Couch To 5K program – I’m already on week 3 – and doing pretty well. On the days I can’t run because it’s dark when E gets home and/or my shinsplints are killing me I do a Jillian DVD or go to Stroller Strides.

I’m down 4 pounds in a week and a half, but I suspect a lot of that was just water weight (I ran out of Diet Coke). I think as long as I keep my cheat days down to once or twice a week I can keep up at least the exercise part of this New! Improved! Suzanne! plan – I don’t actually HATE working out and that seems to be the key to eating more than just lettuce and boiled chicken all the time. And nothing beats seeing the results on the scale.

But in the mean time, I need to remind myself that the body I have now is pretty good too. I can pick up the kids and climb on the playground and splash in the lake and run through a field and hold them both in my lap for story time and walk through the zoo for three hours without collapsing (although I make no promises when it comes to getting out of bed the next day). I won’t be winning (or entering) any bikini contests, but there’s no contest for who can beat themselves up the most over not fitting in their wedding dress after 2 kids either. And the LAST thing I want is for my kids to start picking up on why I’m always sighing and sucking in my stomach when I put on my bathing suit.

TL:DR version – I’m on a diet again but still love cheeseburgers. Amen.

p.s. I might not be as thin as I was when I got married but I am just as tan and just as blond for the first time since 2004 and it feels goooooooood. MOAR SUNLIGHT FOR EVERYONE.

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30 Pounds Down

Thursday, March 15th, 2012

I was really excited for this to be a BIG REVEAL with DRAMATIC PICTURES illustrating how different I look after losing 30 pounds, but instead I’m kind of depressed at how NOT different I look.

Left, May 2011 - Right, March 2012

Although, whoa, did my boobs get smaller. I should try to find a photo of myself at 9 months pregnant with Caroline, since I’ve lost almost 60 pounds total if I’m counting from my highest weight ever. And I DO see a difference, both in pictures (I don’t hate them all!) and in my clothes. I had to buy smaller jeans. My old work wardrobe fits. I ordered a dress in a size medium from ModCloth and am probably wearing right now. Last week I wore a pair of knee-high boots I have literally owned for 3 years and have NEVER gotten to zip over my calves before. And I could write a novel about how much better I FEEL. It’s a cliché, but it’s a totally true cliché. I know I am having a much better time on my trip than I would have had 30 pounds ago and not dreading all the parts that involve a bathing suit.

Of course, I have probably also gained back at least ten of the pounds I’ve lost on the cruise. Can you say midnight chocolate buffet? But honestly, even if I don’t stick 100% to my Weight Watchers plan while I’m gone I have learned a lot about filling up on vegetables and fruit, controlling snacking and portion sizes and balancing treats with activity. Those aren’t hard concepts and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out losing weight is just a calories in vs. calories out equation but no matter how many times I told myself to eat less and move more nothing else has WORKED like Weight Watchers does. I am looking forward to a much more dramatic after picture in the not-too-distant future.

p.s. Has anyone seen my 30 Day Shred DVD? I know I threatened to throw it out the window the last time I tried it, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t. At least 50% sure.

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Pink for Happiness

Monday, February 27th, 2012

When I wrote out my New Year goals, I made a corresponding list of rewards for reaching certain milestones. People do this all the time, often to great effect. Once you lose some weight you can buy new shoes! Get a manicure! Take a vacation! You deserve nice things because you’ve worked so hard! So for two months now I’ve been thinking about the new tattoo I’ll get or the new haircut I’ll splurge on or the new jeans I will buy. Eventually. Someday.

And in the meantime I’ve felt dumpy and boring and unattractive. It’s really too bad there’s a law that says being overweight means I can’t have nice things.

OH. WAIT.

The idea that my pants size should prevent me from treating myself well is bullshit. Bullshit I say! It’s part of that terrible, dangerous idea that if only I weighed X all my problems would be solved. It’s putting my life on hold until I achieve some arbitrary ideal that matters exactly zero point zero percent to anyone. It didn’t work when I was 17, it didn’t work when I was 23, and it’s not going to work now when I’m 30. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to knock it off, but instead I will tell you:

You will never, ever get to a weight that will MAKE you happy. You can choose to be happy right now.

Reward yourself for surviving today. Buy new shoes because they make you smile. Buy new jeans because they make the ass you have look fantastic. Get a scoop of ice cream because ice cream is delicious. Book a massage because life is stressful and massages are awesome. Get a manicure because it makes you feel good about yourself and when you feel good about yourself you treat yourself better – both physically and mentally.

I’m not saying I’m quitting my diet. I’m not saying I don’t still want to be thinner. I’m not saying I won’t celebrate when I get to my milestones. But it’s so much easier to not eat my feelings when my feelings are happy, light and beautiful. Why not do something now that makes me feel good?

Pink hair. My 10th grade self just squeed with joy.

I am done waiting to be happy. I am doing nice things for myself today, right now. I don’t have to earn my happiness – I am choosing to love myself today.

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My Roadblock is Made of Cheese

Tuesday, January 31st, 2012

So. My resolutions-goals-plans-whatever get a resounding “meh” right now.

My two big setbacks last week were discovering my BMI still puts me firmly in the “overweight” category and trying to order a dress online that required me to take my measurements, after which I promptly declared my tape measure defective and cried into a bag of candy.

I don’t know why the BMI thing made me so upset. BMI is stupid. I don’t even BELIEVE in BMI as a scale of health. I bet you $100 that when I get to the doctor on Thursday I am declared insanely healthy and my weight isn’t even mentioned. And yet when I saw a link on some website to calculate my BMI I clicked through and did it. Now I feel like all the weight I’ve lost up until this point doesn’t even count because I’m still OVERWEIGHT.

But then there’s the trouble with taking my measurements. I can’t say I don’t believe in inches. It’s one thing to know what size pants I wear and quite another to know how wide around I am in concrete numbers. I can scoff at arbitrary, meaningless clothing sizes easily – I’m swimming in my only pair of dress pants but an old sundress in the SAME SIZE won’t even zip halfway – but an inch is an inch is an inch. (Of course, then I compare the number showing on the tape measure to the ones on the size chart online and oh look, that website thinks I’m a fatty too. Congrats, Chubby, here are the ugly tunics and mom-jeans we’ve decided are the only things we approve for you. Go sit in a corner and feel shamed.)

The truth is no matter how unhappy these stupid numbers make me I have almost reached my deprivation-capacity. I am willing to snack on grapes instead of chips. I am not willing to eat lettuce without any dressing. I am willing to switch to low-fat cheese. I am not willing to give up all dairy. I am willing to watch my portions. I am not willing to feel hungry all the time. I am willing to work out more days a week if it means I can have a burger on the weekends. I am not willing to get up at 4 am to do The 30 Day Shred and STILL skip the burgers.

I consider it a quality of life issue. You know that saying “Nothing tastes as good as thing feels?” Whoever made that up had never eaten REALLY GOOD FOOD.

All those super clean eating raw unprocessed juicing diets might be amazing and everyone always loses a ton of weight but they won’t work for someone who LOATHS them with every fiber of her being. Up to this point I’ve been able to balance my choices and still end up on the winning (losing) side. Having the points from Weight Watches makes it math instead of guessing and I like the structure AND the flexibility. But once I wean Caroline (and the end is near) my body isn’t going to need an extra milk-making calories and I suspect I’ll have to drop dessert AND dairy to stay under my allotted points. Bless me grilled cheesus, I am just not sure I can do it.

The silliest part of all of this is I am still losing weight. My doubts are just SPECULATION about my FUTURE weight loss and depression over the total number of pounds I have to go before I am in the “normal for my height” range. I think I need a smaller goal – teeny tiny, like ONE POUND LOST – next week and a real reward for reaching it. It just probably shouldn’t be cheese.

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Goals, etc.

Thursday, January 5th, 2012

I LOATH turning January 1st into some sort of magical diet-starting day, as if the flipping of a calendar page can somehow change all of my poor eating habits, rip out my crazy sweet tooth and give me the motivation to work out during every nap time instead of sitting on the couch watching Judge Judy. And with so many people kicking off their diets or fitness plans it feels like I can’t escape the constant deluge of advice and tips and tweeted pictures of sad little yogurt cups. Your yogurt makes me SAD, friends. Please throw some granola and a few berries on top. Personally, I think January is the WORST time to start a diet plan. Do you have seasonal amnesia? Do you REMEMBER what January is like in 75% of the country? Cold. Dark. Dreary. Miserable. Mind-numbingly boring. An endless stretch of nothingness punctuated by housebound snow days and pajama pants. If you love the symbolism of a brand new year as a fresh start towards your goals then go ahead, fight the crowds and sign up for that gym membership – but don’t be surprised when the siren song of pizza delivery and unplowed roads drives you totally insane. I vote we all start making Memorial Day Resolutions or Arbor Day Resolutions or National Day After National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day Resolutions instead.

That being said, as of Monday I’m back to strict point tracking with Weight Watchers and recommitted to attending Stroller Strides at least 4 days a week. Pot, kettle, etc etc. But the truth is with Caroline’s first birthday in my rear-view mirror, I have passed the “just had a baby” excuse for anything and I’m really sick of feeling like such a MOM in my body. I’m not even talking just about my weight. I actually don’t feel so bad about that. The 20-something pounds slash jean size I’ve already lost have done WONDERS for how I feel, especially when it comes to photos of myself. Go ahead! Snap a candid shot! From a low angle! I fully accept that those arms are attached to my torso!

What I really mean is I wear far too many stretchy pants and sweatshirts. I own jeans my own mother is too cool to be seen wearing in public. I haven’t had my hair cut and colored professionally since before I was pregnant. The first time. I am a grown-up with a mortgage and two kids and yet I still don’t wash my face before I go to bed. I cannot stop myself from eating an entire bag of candy if it’s anywhere in my house.  I haven’t gotten more than 4 hours of sleep in more than a year.

Whoa, that turned really whiny really fast. This is the least original post ever in the history of mom blogging – committing to taking better care of myself so I can feel better is like the super graphic but somehow still boring birth story of 2011.  Sorry for the self-pity parade, but it has been a Tough Week with a non-sleeping baby and no pints of ice cream to self-medicate and we did a goal setting exercise at Stroller Strides that made me thinking writing this stuff down somewhere where I could be held accountable might not be a bad idea.

So, here’s the facts:
I would like to lose 15 pounds before we take our super special bathing-suit based vacation in March
I would like to lose 30 more pounds total
When I get to 150 pounds, I get a new tattoo as a reward
When I get to my goal weight I get to buy a pair of REALLY EXPENSIVE jeans that REALLY FIT as a reward
I will get my hair cut/colored at a real salon where I have to make an appointment
I will get at least one pedicure this year (yikes)
I will wash my face at night – or at least MOST nights, or at least wipe it off with those cloth things

I’m not going to make some sort of promise to record my journey and document all my triumphs and set backs (pause for the collective sigh of relief) but I might mention it. And if you happen to see me hanging around Twitter making EAT ALL THE CANDY comments, maybe remind me I really really want that new tattoo.

tl;dr version – I’m turning 30 in April, so it’s time to stop feeling like shit about myself.

 

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