Front Loading and Gold Stars

I'm trying a couple of things new, this time around.

First off, I don't really care how much I weigh. I don't want to know the number. I don't want to think about that. The number doesn't make me happy. It never has. It was never enough, it was always too slow, or it wasn't as much as last week, or even though I had a good week, Thomas would have a better week. (That always happened... if I lost 4 pounds in one week, Thomas would lose 7. And I know it's not fair to compare, but fuck it, I do it anyway. Did someone sign a contract with you that said life was fair? No, me either.)

Never made me happy. Ever.

So, I'm not weighing in. You won't see the "I lost 10 pounds!" over here. Because in the end, it does not matter. I'm not going to be happy with that number, so that number is fucking irrelevant. I'm not setting goal weights or goal sizes, or anything like that.

My plan is to eat well and exercise and what happens, happens.

I have walked over 10 miles since Wednesday. Gold Star.

I have logged my food - I do still have to count calories because I am NOT good at "intuitive eating" yet - every day. Gold Star.

I am also doing something a friend called "Front Loading."

Apparently we start out with a given amount of willpower each day - according to the friend - and as we go through our day, we use it up. We resist the muffin for breakfast, or the ice cream in the afternoon, and by 9pm we eat a whole bag of chips.

The idea is to Front Load my day; to not use all my willpower up at the beginning of the day. To eat between 35 - 50% of my daily allotted calories FOR breakfast.

My breakfasts are looking like this

2 egg omelette, a piece of cheese, tomato/spinach filling (240 cals)
cream of wheat and peach slices (150 cals)
2 slices of bacon (140 cals)

I'm not trying to limit my fat intake, as long as it's fat from a natural source (meat, eggs, etc). I'm not trying to stack fiber. I am trying to increase my vegetables/fruits and protein and cut down on boxed or pre-packaged food.

I'm also doing my workouts first thing. I get up, get the kiddo ready for school and get into my workout clothes. I take her to the bus-stop and as soon as she gets on the bus, I head out for my walk. I'm home by 8:30 and I eat breakfast, and I still have all the rest of my day to get things done without feeling like anything is hanging over my head.

Plans and Day Planners

Create a definite plan for carrying out your desire and begin at once, whether you ready or not, to put this plan into action.

-- Napoleon Hill

I love lists.

I love seeing fairly simple tasks, bulleted down a sheet of paper.

There's nothing quite like the simple satisfaction of sitting down, lowering my eyes to my desk, picking up a pen, and scratching something off my to-do list.

I love notebooks.

I love the crisp feel of fresh paper, the smell of pages, the broad white possibility, just ready for whatever happens to come.

I love pens. I personally own more pens than I will ever use. In fact, I have a hard time restraining myself from buying pens.

Do not, if you love me, ever set me loose in an office supply store.

(Did I mention I love post-it notes, too?)

My current favorite pens were a gift from a friend. They're from post-it. Black-inked pens on one end, pink, yellow or blue highlighter on the other, and have a dainty little carriage holder in the cap for tape tags.

Oh, Johnny, I love tape tags!

Yesterday, I got a new day planner.

It's from At-A-Glance and it's quite hideously ugly.

It's orange.

I forsee the purchase of many, many stickers until I cover the entire front and back.

On the other hand, it seems to be perfect.

Perfect is such a terrible word, fraught with disappointment. And yet...


It is quite lovely.

Each day has a whole page set aside for it. I can write appointments on it and still have plenty of space left over for my daily to-do list.

I'm using the HOT section at the bottom to write down my plans for dinner menus and anything that desperately needs to be attended to.

I've divided the pages in half, making two columns. The right hand side is for special tasks for the day (for instance, this week - likely next week, and perhaps the week after THAT - I am reorganizing and cleaning the kitchen. A thorough cleaning!) and the left hand side is for those things that are regularly part of my chores list (make bed, do dishes, plan dinner, swish and swipe the bathroom).

So far, I've done everything on the left side of the page for today.

Zoooooooooomba

I tried Zumba yesterday.

The operative word being "tried."

Yoda, with his "do or do not" obviously never attempted any baking, since we all know you can try to bake a cake, and sometimes you just don't succeed.

The class was HUGE - quite a shift from the morning Yoga class - something like 40 people were crammed into the same room. The instructor was very tiny. Not just thin, but the kind of woman that the slang word "shawty" was made for. I mean, I'm not exactly tall, but this girl was... maybe 4'8"? Given that the class was so large, this made her extremely difficult for me to see, even when she was standing on the stage.

Also, there were four new people, of which I was one, and most of the rest of them were very familiar with the class. She didn't call out moves or anything. Often she made a hand gesture over her head when we were getting ready to change up moves, but since I'd never been to a class before, I didn't know what any of them meant.

Now, don't get me wrong, none of the basic moves were all that hard. I've done regular dance aerobics before, and these were just modified steps like I've done before. Except with a lot more hip and leg movements. And for instance, when I started rhythm boxing, I was remarkably uncoordinated the first few dozen times, but I kept at it, and eventually I learned. Well, the basic steps, at least. I'm just not up to shaking what my mamma gave me... I think the instructors hips are attached to the rest of her with string, like those little toys, you know the ones, where you push the button on the bottom of their stand and they collapse like wet noodles?

And I learn pretty fast - it's one of the advantages of being a genius (which is completely countered by being socially inept and uncoordinated!) - so usually within a series, it wouldn't take me long to get it.

I ended up leaving the class after 40 minutes, when it was a 60-minute class, but that was because all the jumping around had annoyed my bladder (one of the joys of getting older and having babies that no one ever told me... ) and I had to go visit the ladies room. Next time, I'll remember to go RIGHT before class!

That's right, I said NEXT TIME.

Despite being relatively uncoordinated, I had a good time for those 40 minutes.

(to make up the cardio, I hit the elliptical for 25 minutes after I used the facilities before heading home...)

I also got macked on by someone who overheard me discussing raiding with Drew. (one of the guys from the gym that I've talked to several times... we discuss Warcraft, which is actually kind of fun to talk about while on the elliptical... PS - it is also very funny to be listening to mathematical formulas while doing cardio... badass fucking fractal!) Ok, dude. Seriously. Yes, I'm a girl. Yes, I'm a gamer. No, I'm not going to sleep with you. Go away.

Cereal Killer

I've been whinging quite a lot recently about "I don't know why my weight keeps going up."

Oh, liar liar.

I know.

Believe me, I know.

(And really, you probably did, too. Admit it, we all do this when we read some poor weight-warrior whinging on about it... "well, I bet you've been eating too much. or not working out enough. Or both. Shut up and get back on the wagon, slacker." In various mental tones of niceness. Weight loss is simple. Eat less, move more. Doing it is hard.)

I mean, yes, we all have our weird weight fluctuations. Too much salt can cause a bump, or that time of the month, an overindulgence in cheetos or whatever... but usually, they're fluctuations. Up for a few days, and then back down...

This has... NOT been an aberration. This has been me up .2, up .2, up .4, up .6, down 1 (net of +.4, for those of you less mathematically inclined.) (Completely off the topic here, does anyone else have problems spelling mathematically? I mean, I don't know about you, but I don't SAY math eh mat i cal lee. I say Math mat ick lee. Therefore, I cannot spell mathematically right the first time. Ever.)

I've been paying for Weight Watchers more than I've been free. I usually manage to trim down about once a month to skate in under my limit (I haven't actually NOT made it back into my range at least once a month since November, but each time I make it into the range, it's higher than the last time. April, I made it into my range at 135.8 with a .2 margin of safety.) but I have been consistently up 2 or 3 pounds for the last three months.

Part of my problem has been a lack of something to train for. I miss my long-ass walks and I miss some of the freedom of wandering off the path of what I can eat that went with them. If I'm not exercising several times a week, I had better not stray off my 23 points a day. Without some goal to train for, I've been finding it harder and harder to get my ass down to the fitness center. (I blamed the weather, it was too cold, too rainy, too snowy to walk down there... I blamed the other people who use the fitness center; one whole time I was there, three of the four machines were in use and I don't like the recumbent bike. We all know who was to blame here, right? me!)

Part of my problem has been this annoying sense of entitlement I have. I'm mad, all the time mad, with my husband. Thomas has had a lot of trouble NOT losing weight. Annoying. As. Shit. And let me tell ya, having to live with someone who's whinging about being down another three pounds this week, even AFTER he had TWO DOUGHNUTS is just about enough to make any sane person stuff a few eclairs down their throats. Not to mention that in order to keep him from slipping down the drain when he takes a shower, we've had to stock the house with more high-calorie foods.

But mostly my problem has been nibbling.

I rarely sit down and scarf a 6 point doughnut. But I will eat a 100-cal pack, and 15 minutes later, I'll have another one. And 15 minutes after that, I'll have a piece of cheese. And 5 minutes after that (the cheese doesn't even last until I get out of the freaking KITCHEN!) I'll have an apple. And then I'll have a cup of dry cereal. And if I'm not paying attention, I'll have ANOTHER cup.

None of these things by themselves is the problem. It's that in less than 45 minutes, I've eaten 11 points. Frequently in addition to my 23 points that I'm allotted for the day. Honestly, I should just go ahead and eat the freaking doughnut, right? Then I'd only be 6 points behind, instead of 11.

My biggest problem is that damn cold cereal.

Technically, I buy the stuff for Darcy. In actuality, Thomas and I eat 95% of it. Thomas for breakfast on days he's not headed in to work; me, in a coffee cup, in front of the computer. And again, if I would just have one cup, that'd be fine.

But I don't.

I have one cup... and then 15 minutes later, I'll have another cup... and then another one... one serving of cold pre-sweetened cereal is 100-140 calories. (and, of course, a serving is often like 3/4 of a cup...) There are 14 servings in a box. When that box is empty in 3 days... well...

yeah.

For a while, I was asking Thomas to point it out to me, if I was eating the stuff, so that I'd stop. And I was okay for a while. And now? I'm just eating it when he's at work. Or in the evenings, when I'm reading in the other room. When he doesn't see me.

I'm sneaking food?

Jesus.

So, I fessed up with him about it today. And now I'm fessing up with you.

One of the things that Weight Watcher's suggests as a Tool for Living is Ask for Help. So, I'm asking.

HOW do I keep myself from doing this? I am nibbling myself right out of my weight range, and I must say, I don't like it very much. I feel guilty. And slack. And stupid. And I don't like feeling that way.

Say you want a Resolution... (with apologies to the Beatles)

Well, glad that's over.

That being "the holiday season."

I haven't been enthusiastic about Christmas since, oh, I dunno, when I was thirteen or so. I'm not religious, I don't always like my family very much, and I never have as much money as I'd like to have.

Therefore, the holidays are stressful, expensive, boring, busy (I often wonder how boring and busy can go together, but just because I'm running around like a chicken minus its brainpan doesn't mean I'm interested in anything I'm doing...), and on top of that now, a major stumbling block towards my healthy-eating thing.

My brother-in-law came down for Thanksgiving (with his dog). This is the first time I've seen the man since I married his younger brother... TWELVE FREAKING YEARS AGO!

(Quick story; when I met his brother, I glanced between Thomas and his brother... and thought as far as looks went, I was getting off second best. Which is not to say I've ever thought my husband was UNattractive, but compared to his brother... well, let's just say 75 pounds doesn't really look good on anyone... and now... well, the two of them still look astonishingly alike, but I think I came out the long-term winner... his brother is still whippet thin, but he's also about two inches shorter and has an unfortunate tendency to dress in orange. Which made him quite popular with my child, whose favorite color is *also* orange, but doesn't really do great things for his complexion.)

And then we drove 10 hours down to Georgia to spend a week being bored with my mother. St. Simon's Island, Georgia might not be quite as bucolic as my dad's farm up in Spotsylvania, but... you're taking two complete geeks and dropping them someplace with 1 computer, dial-up connection, a 15-inch TV, no working DVD player, and no cell phone reception. Also, it was still cold as all get out, and my mother was recovering from knee replacement surgery. All of which means we had nothing to do and a lot of time to do it in. (We did give my step-dad a DVD player for his Xmas gift and the first thing Thomas did was set it up so we could watch teeny tiny star trek...)

And then we drove 10 hours back and my brother-in-law came back for New Year's. (with the dog again.)

Busy. And yet, boring.

I did gain some weight, but only about 3 pounds, and according to the Wii, I've already taken it right back off.

Maintenance sucks, just so you know. I thought it would get easier, but it doesn't. I really need to get my shit together and drop another 5 pounds or so, just so I have a little more wiggle room. I've already had to pay for one meeting in December. (I was 1.6 over my 2 pound tolerance... which is actually 3.6 pounds up from goal... blah!)

Anyway...

This year, I'd like to give myself the following:

Continued good health.

I intend to achieve this by dropping to at least 129 pounds (at the moment, that's a needed loss of less than 5 pounds). I further would like to keep in shape by continuing to go to the fitness center at least twice, and preferably three times a week. I would also like to get in at least 30 minutes of yoga per week.

Less stress.

I intend to achieve this by continuing with my good housekeeping skills. I also intend to start keeping a budget, so that I can track why we never seem to have any extra money. I am keeping a weekly calendar as well, so I can better track my daughter's homework and school stuff, appointments, and birthdays, so I can stop stressing out last minute when I either remember that I forgot something, or find out that my cousin's birthday is TOMORROW.

More time with friends.

This year, to try to cut down on the amount of money I spent on people's Christmas presents, I gave my closest friends a small token gift and a certificate. These certificates are set up that I will spend one afternoon/evening with each of my friends (once a month), take them out to dinner and a movie, or go to a museam, or a baseball game, or whatever... this will allow me to spend more time with the people I care about and also to spread a Christmas budget over the course of a year, so that I'm not overwhelmed with it.

Better family.

I would like to try to continue relations with my aunts and cousins and my brother-in-law. I intend to do this by mailing out cards for holidays and birthdays, calling to chat once a month (rotating through the couins and aunts, so that I don't call anyone more than twice a year... the phone lines do go BOTH WAYS...) I'd also like to spend more quality time with my daugther. Once a month, I'd like to do something for her - go see a movie, go to a museam, go to the park, etc.

Continued improved self esteem.

I'm starting with a professional photo shoot tomorrow, in an attempt to get some better pictures of me in the house. I'd also like to continue with my social service. Once a month, I'd like to give something back to the community; volunteer my time or give blood, or select a charity and make a donation, or give items to the Thrift store.

The gift of reading.

I have recently reaquired a library card, and I've selected (from recommendations) 12 books to read over the course of the year. My goal is to read 2 "new" books per month.

So, those are my goals for 2010 (that's pronounced twenty-ten, thank you very much!)

1 - lose ~5 pounds and maintain my weight
2 - get to the gym
3 - do some yoga
4 - keep up with Flylady
5 - budget!
6 - use weekly calendar (track daughter's homework and projects better)
7 - more time with friends
8 - keep in touch with my relatives
9 - work on self-esteem
10 - read 2 new books every month

How about you? What's on your plate for 2010?

Make Believe

Does This Blog Make Us Look Fat has an interesting series of questions for the dieter/weight warrior/lifestyle changer, whatever you want to call yourself that I thought was particularly pertinent for me today.

Go, read, come back. I'll be here.

Are you done?

Great... now I thought I'd look at this question from the other side of the equation. I am at goal weight (or, at least I was last week, and I don't think I've gained 1.6, which would be enough to push me back to paying for WW's this month...)

1. What is your goal weight or size?

My goal weight was originally 125, but I've had a hard time pushing to that point. For the last four and a half months I've been bouncing around (and I do mean bouncing... my weigh ins look like a 2nd grader's drawing of grass... up down up down...) between 132.4 and 138.

Technically, my goal is 134, which means according to WW, I need to be between 132 and 136. When I mathed out sizes (given that 10 pounds is "about" a size) I figured that from a size 24, if I lost all 90+ pounds that I wanted to lose, I'd end up in a 6, or maybe a 4. I did that. The jeans I'm wearing today are 4s.

2. How do you behave at goal?

At goal, I am... paranoid. Astonishingly enough, getting to goal didn't change me completely! I don't know what I expected, but it's not been a lightbulb moment. I still have yet to look in the mirror and see a thin person. I'm ok with comparisons (ie; I'm thinner than I was, I'm thinner than that person, I'm not the thinnest person in the room) but I still don't feel like I look thin.

I had hoped when I got to goal, I would/could relax a little. And yet, I'm so close to my goal weight that I don't really have any wiggle room. A 2 pound gain for me will have me once again paying for weight watchers, and I've discovered (as you all probably know!) that eating pizza (no matter how MUCH pizza or how LITTLE pizza) will cause me to gain 2 pounds.

I am actually less active than I was while losing. Having finished the 3-Day, I haven't yet instituted a new goal or excercise plan and Sundays, which used to be my crazy-exercise days have now become "sit around the house clicking facebook every 2 minutes" days.

3. What does a person who is active or at a certain weight do to stay there?

According to WW, I should be eating ~22-25 points (give or take) plus my 35 weekly and whatever Activity points I get. I don't know what I've been eating, since my tracking has once again fallen by the wayside. I hate tracking, I really do.

Right now, I'm trying to get back into tracking; 4 days a week, at minimum. I will give myself extra "gold stars" if I do more than 4 days tracking this week. Also, I think I'm slipping on vegetable servings again. Since I haven't been tracking, I don't know for sure. But I'm also trying to get back on track with fruits and vegetables.

Also, I got an unexpected and unpleasant surprise on Halloween. I went to donate blood (a surefire way to lose 1 pound, since a pint's a pound, the world around!) and couldn't because my iron count was too lose (12.5 is the minimum, and mine was stubbornly sitting at 11.) So, for the first time in quite a while, I'm dedicating myself to remembering to take a vitamin. I've always been a little dubious about the whole nutritional supplement thing... it seems to me that if you're eating the way you're supposed to, a vitamin shouldn't be necessary. So, I must not be eating right, eh? I did find a caffienated vitamin from One-A-Day; so I'm going to try that and see if that'll help me keep on track with that goal.

4. At the end of the day sit and think. How was this day? Could “being at goal” be your lifestyle? Could you live like this?

I'm trying really hard... sometimes I think I'm trying too hard! I'm totally stressed, and spending a great deal of time being pissed with Thomas when he eats a 1/2 pounder cheeseburger from Ruby Tuesday's (1350 calories, 90+ grams of fat) and then LOSES weight!!

I won't lie and say that being at goal hasn't had some positive effects; I'm less self-conscious than I used to be (or at least, I no longer CARE what OTHER people think of me... not that other people could POSSIBLY be as harsh on me as I am on myself...) and I have a dresser full of clothes that if I don't absolutely LOVE it, I don't HAVE to wear it. (still working on getting rid of the stuff I don't wear much or at all...)

On the other hand, getting to goal and maintenance hasn't been... easy.

It's worth remembering that just because you get there doesn't mean the work is over. We all know that it's easier to gain weight than to lose it...

Contest News!

I want to thank everyone for their comments and/or retweets... The winners are KyraTX and FlybabyF. Please email me at tisfan at gmail dot com (you know how to reformat that, right? right.) and give me your mailing information so I can get these out to you! Congrats!

Jeans

As if I needed more reasons to hate my body, I got two pieces of information this week that in turns disgust and amuse me.

First, I apparently have no ass.

Second, my thighs aren't big enough.

I went jeans shopping this past week with my friend Leslie. Shopping with Leslie is nothing like shopping with my other girlfriends. While my other girlfriends tend to tell me things are cute, Leslie spent most of her time criticizing. Not so much criticizing me, exactly, but the quality of the clothing, the fit, the color, the prices. She blames this on having a very picky father who insisted on absolutely the best, followed by years of being married to someone who - while he himself might not have had tons of cash, was at least the spoiled child of people with a lot of cash.

So... she's fussy about clothing.

And while I'm an apple, Leslie is a pear. (Well, a pear with an enormous chest.) I don't have a waist, so to speak. And I have absolutely no butt whatsoever. Any jeans that closed around my middle were baggy in the butt.

I had, actually, never noticed this. For me, what's always been more important about jeans fit was how well they reduced the look of my protruding stomach. One of the big problems I've had with my appearance, post weight-loss, is that I don't look thin. I am weighing in around 129-131 pounds (first thing in the morning) and yet I look like a smaller fat person.

"Well, that's unattractive," says Leslie, as I walk out of the fitting room in a pair of Old Navy sweetheart jeans. They're a size 4. SIZE. 4. Damnit.

"What is?" I turn around in the mirror.

"Your jeans... you bag in the butt. And believe me, in jeans, that's the place where you never, ever want to be baggy."

"What are you talking about?" The jeans were pretty damn snug, actually. They fit tight over my stomach and yet didn't spill muffin over the top.

Leslie walked over to the mirror and turned me until I could look at my butt. "Here."

She was right. Just under where my ass would be (if I had one) were a series of creases. I tried on another pair of jeans. And another. And we went to two more shops.

They all do it. Every. Single pair of jeans. Including the ones I was wearing.

I finally ended up getting two pairs of 4s at TJ Maxx anyway... they still bag in the butt, and yet it doesn't seem like there's anything I can do about it. If the jeans fit in the butt, I can't snap them closed (or if I can suck it in hard enough to zip them up, I get terrible muffin top.)

I'd feel even worse about this if it weren't for one consoling factor. Leslie's jeans might be stretched tight across her butt and thighs, but they gap terribly in the waist. No one ever has to wonder what kind of undies she's wearing...

So, I'm not unique, even if I am the only apple in my group of friends. At least my jeans are comfortable, rather than being stretched here and there, and making me worried that someone's going to feel tempted to drop an ice cube down the back of my pants.

Jeans are just Not Made for Women.

On the other hand, there's nothing I can do about my thighs. I already walk so much as to be ridiculous, and having lost 85 pounds, my thighs are measuring in around 18.5 inches at the moment. When I started the whole weight loss thing, my thighs were 27 inches around. I think I'll go ahead and stay in the higher risk category, ok? Ok.

Guest Post - Ideal

Hey y'all, just a note from your full-time, snarky blog writer here. I'd like you to give a big hello to my best friend. We've known each other for... oh, about 18 years now... pretty scary sometimes. Some friendships are fleeting, some endure. Ours has been through fire and back; tempered over the years and the mileage. I don't even think I could begin to explain how much this one particular friendship means to me... aside from my husband (and honestly, she's got seniority on him!) this is the most important person in my life. So please, give her your undivided attention (as you'll see, enough in her life is already divided!)

I have no idea how you do it.

Lynn says this to me, from time to time, and when she does, I always feel the same way about it: Half of me is flattered -- pleased that someone I love and admire so much has noticed the incredible juggling act that is my life (work and a child with diabetes and another child in that constant-supervision-required stage of toddlerhood and dieting and exercising regularly and maintaining a semblance of a social life and multiple hobbies and...) and is impressed enough to comment on it. The other half of me is comprised of an exhaustion-fogged panic that she might ask how I do it, when I myself sometimes have not the foggiest notion.

Some days -- by which I mean most days -- I feel like a Japanese subway attendant, pulling on my neat white gloves and pushing as hard as I can to cram just one more thing into the day before it disappears down the tubes. But not doing it is not an option. As Lynn put it, I just put on my big girl panties and get on with it.

I do it one day -- sometimes one minute -- at a time.

I have no idea how you do it.

From time to time, I've heard this from people at work. None of them ask me how I do it, though, or I might tell them: I sacrifice.

I've sacrificed a lot of my precious "me" time, and some of my husband's time, as well. I get home from work an hour and a half later than I used to, so I have no more than five minutes to relax and make the transition from "working" to "housework" because there's only half an hour between when I get home and when dinner needs to be on the table if the kids are going to get to bed on time. I sacrificed playing World of Warcraft entirely when I realized that having to choose once a week (on average) between the game and the gym was making me resent the gym, and I'd rather not play the game at all than risk it interfering with the best thing I've done for my health in the past twenty years.

(I may also have sacrificed bits of my sanity. I cried myself to sleep, the night I cancelled my WoW subscription. And I actually wound up in therapy when I realized that my determination to find a schedule that included everything I wanted had gone terrifyingly far down the path to true obsessive-compulsive behavior.)

I have no idea how you do it.

My husband doesn't say this to me, because he already knows how I do it. He's watching me do it, and picking up the slack whenever I need him to. He's taking care of the kids when I need to go to the gym in the evening. He's not keeping junk food in the house. He's not complaining when I've had a bigger-than-planned lunch and halve our dinner portions without warning. He's taking on more than his fair share of keeping the kids on their schedules so I can keep all these commitments to mine. He knows, because while I'm putting on my big girl panties, he's manning up to do whatever it takes to help me.

However it is that I do it... I couldn't do it without him.

It's a common question, in dieting/exercise circles. How do you do it? Everyone wants to believe that they'll eventually find the answer that lets them flip the switch in their own brain that makes eating right and exercising easy. But it doesn't work like that. I don't do it because I acquired some Zen wisdom that makes me want to go to the gym, or because I uncovered a secret Tibetian technique for making undressed salad taste like chocolate brownies. I do it because at some point, I re-evaluated the priorities in my life, and entirely to my own surprise, correcting my health had filtered up toward the top of the list. I simply reached a point in my life where this was what I had to do.

Will it last? I don't know.

I do know that I'm more than 75 pounds lighter than I was last year at this time. I do know that I'm thinner now than I've been at any point in my life since before I started dating my husband. I do know that I can do things I haven't been able to do in years, and that I'm beginning to find ways to get a little of that sacrificed "me time" back.

I do know that I can do this, now.

About that, I've got a pretty good idea.

In Another's Eyes

First off, there's still time to enter and win one of two copies of Lose the Diet by Kathy Balland. Please go here and leave a comment, twitter about this contest, link to it on your blog, whatever! Contest will be open until Friday!!


Well, we all know I have Issues.

I don't see myself as I am, and I certainly don't see myself as other people see me.

We also know that I'm a little too cynical to think the I'm ok, you're ok theory of self-esteem improvement actually works, most of the time. You can tell yourself you are lovable and capable as much as you want (or are forced to!) and it doesn't really help all that much. The best way, I've found, to gain self-esteem is to do those things that you think are worthy.

Sit down, look at those things you find admirable in other people. I'm not necessarily talking about Michael Jordan (don't we all wanna be like Mike?) but about the people in your life that you look up to and admire. Because we can't all be basketball players. (Even if Sulu would like that if we were...)

What are the people you admire like? Are they intelligent, witty, or generous? Be careful, while you examine these people: do you actually admire them, or are you jealous? Make a list of the things you admire in the people you've chosen... honest? Or tactful? Kind-hearted?

Now, sit down with your list of traits you find admirable. I admire people who are even-tempered, good with children, generous, determined, and mostly cheerful, with a good dash of sarcastic.

Here are the items you can work on; I admire people who are even-tempered. I... well, let's just say I won't win any awards for being calm in the face of aggravation.

But I can work on it! It's not possible, perhaps, to be perfect, but we can always, always find ways of improving. I'm learning - slowly, and with a great many set-backs - to calm down. To take a few deep breaths. To ask myself if this really matters in the grand scheme of things.

I admire people who go out of their way to make other people's lives better. I may not be wealthy, but I can give to charity. I'm an organ donor. I give blood regularly. I'm doing a 60-mile, 3-day walk in October to raise money for breast cancer awareness, screenings, research, and hopefully one day to find a cure. My daughter and I take trash bags out with us to the playground about once every 3 months and clean trash up in our neighborhood. I donate my gently used clothing and household items to the Salvation Army. I click here. And here. And here. And here. Every day.

Sometimes it helps to see yourself through someone else's eyes. It's not always easy; there's sometimes the nagging suspicion that someone is telling you what you want to hear... but when you get an honest opinion - or sometimes for me, it's even just seeing a list of my accomplishments; what does it look like to someone else...

Here's what some friends had to say about me recently... and the thing is... nothing here isn't true. It's just... wow, when you put it all together like that, maybe I am, actually, pretty damn nifty...

One of my best friends, Jeanne, sent this email out to her family and friends (who are not also my family and friends, since we do have a load of friends in common) and bcc'd me on it...

My best friend will be participating in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk for the Cure in Washington, DC in October.

That's a 60 mile walk for someone who was a half-a-pack-a-day smoker 12 years ago (until she quit cold turkey). Who was told after her ankle was shattered in a car wreck 8 years ago that she'd never walk again without a cane (today, she can step-run like Rocky Balboa). Who was in the "high-risk pregnancy" category 5 years ago because of weight-related complications and asthma (which she has since controlled). Who was borderline diabetic 2 years ago because of her weight (she joined Weight Watchers in Jan. 2008 and has lost over 80 pounds to date; her husband, who joined to support her, has lost over 90).

She has a beautiful 5-year-old daughter, and a close family history of breast cancer-- both her aunt and her grandmother were survivors. Her mother's breast cancer diagnosis in late 2007 was her personal wake-up call to improve her life and her health, for her own good and that of her family. Now she's done it, and in October, she means to give back in her mother's honor. She's up to walking 18 miles on the weekend, and she's working out extensively during the week to prep for the Walk.

Unfortunately, unlike a standard walk-a-thon where you simply raise as much as you can, the Susan G. Komen Foundation sets a minimum fundraising goal of $2300 that you must meet in order to be allowed to walk in the 3-Day (any donations short of the goal will still be accepted). She is only about halfway to her goal. She's an amazing person, it's a great cause, and she really, really wants to be able to walk.

Please help.

Well.

It does sound sort of impressive, doesn't it? When you lump it all together like that. I tend to see things all microscopic. I have problems - doesn't everyone? - but my problems are like a bunch of tiny rocks. If I hold them in my hand and put them out at arm's length, they look fairly minor. But I don't. I bring them up close to my face and study them. I know them intimately. Try it. Take a small rock, less than an inch across, and hold it up as close to your eye as you can (and still be able to focus on the rock! Don't poke your eye out!) Now, you can see the rock really well, right? But the problem here is that you can't see much aside from the rock. The rest of your life is blurry, out of focus, and blocked off because you're looking too closely at a stupid, little rock.

One of the people I admire (and, I confess, am somewhat jealous of) had this to say to me recently:

I chuckle every time I think what the "college Lynn" would say if she saw you now. It is silly to say that you make me proud as I have nothing to do with any of the things you have done. Yet your hard work has inspired me to work on making things better for me. Good luck on your walk!

How nifty is that? Someone that I admire is admiring me right back... interesting.

I may not be where I want to be, and I may not yet be who I want to be. Neither am I who I was, and neither am I incapable of change.

Perfection and true happiness may be unattainable (and I reserve the right to doubt) but we can always improve, we can always become better, and we can always be happier.

I think these are things worth striving for.

And I think, sometimes, I need to sit down and look over just how far I've come.

That's It, I QUIT

Before you panic, or send out the Intervention Police.... relax.

I'm just quitting in the attempt to lose more weight to see a goal number that I'm not going to reach.

I'm well within my band (Weight Watchers pegs me at an ideal weight of 113 at the lowest to 141 at the highest, so 134 is towards the top end of the middle) and have been for quite some time. I hit 140 pounds in the end of April, which put me at "normal" weight on the (oh so infallible...) BMI scale.

Ok, so when I started this journey, I wanted to around 93-94 pounds. I've lost 85 and a half.

I'm at a normal weight BMI (and since I'm NOT a hyper athlete and do NOT have dense bone structure, I'm going to go with BMI as a rating since I don't know a better way to do it, since at 5'3", I don't want to weigh what COSMO thinks I should, which is like 90 pounds for your first five feet and 5 pounds for each inch after that, which would have me at 105, and that is just too damn skinny for me, thankyouverymuch.) for my height. Something like 23.6. (The Wii Fit tells me that people with a BMI of 22 are the most healthy, but ya know, the Wii Fit can insert some unpleasant things into its battery compartment.)

I'm certainly physically fit. I can do 100 pushups, 200 squats, bench press 75 pounds, do 190 situps, walk 18 miles, run 1 mile, go for over an hour on the elliptical at a pace of 144 strides per minute, do two assisted pullups (my friends from New Jersey keep insisting I try it whenever we're at the gym at the same time, and they help... I wonder sometimes if it's because Paul likes to put his hands on my legs... ah well, whatever, it's kinda fun anyway...)

I'm in a size 6 (or a 4, depending on the cut of the clothes.) When I started this and "mathed it out", I was prediciting I'd be in a size 8 when I reached goal. I don't mind being a size 6. My shirts are mediums and smalls. My dresses are mediums. I look good in my clothes. I'm wearing high heels for the first time... well, ever, really. My shoes are a size 6.5.

What more do I want out of this whole weight loss journey?

The things I want; to feel good about my body, to have a flat stomach, and to not slouch over like my grandmother (and father), are not things that I'm going to achieve by getting to some idealized waist size, or scale number. Those are things I'm going to get by toning, practice, and well, just stopping being such a self-hating pain in the ass.

Also, I'm stuck.

On June 15th, I weighed in at 134 (with a huge, five pound drop...). Yesterday? 133.4. That's right. In the last eight weeks, I have lost... a whole, whopping .6 pounds. I go up, I go down. I lose a pound, I gain a pound and a half. I lose half a pound, I gain .4. I'm tired and annoyed and frustrated. I'm tired of hating myself for every little splurge and bite of food that I eat.

(And it's NOT like I'm splurging on a bag of chips every day... this week's treats were; 7 fried cheese sticks, a piece of pita bread, half a pint of hot and sour soup, and 3 mushu pork rolls... That's. IT. On top of that, I gave blood, so I should have LOST a pound this week... I mean, really, they took a pound of fluid out of me, I should have lost weight... and I didn't.)

So...

I was joking with my weight loss leader last night... the rules for getting to Lifetime is declaring goal and then going 6 weeks and being with 2 pounds below or above your goal weight. (Which means in the next six weeks, I need to weigh between 132 and 136 pounds) So, my joke was that after having been 8 weeks at almost exactly the same weight, declaring maintenance would cause me to unexpectedly drop 5 pounds and I'd have to start over.

This... would not bother me one bit.

I am healthier. And while I know, I know, I know... this journey is about health, not about my shorts size or some imaginary number on the scale, I do feel slightly stung about giving up, nine pounds away from my goal.

And yet, it's time to get the hell over myself.

I have achieved what I set out to achieve. I am healthier. I am at a lower risk for breast cancer, diabetes, and other health complications. My asthma is well under control. I am in a normal weight category.

I am done.

At least with this stage....

Next station; Maintenance.

Vanity, thy name is Weight Loss

Thursday, I gathered together with a bunch of my girlfriends (all of us are on Weight Watchers... I'm such a trend-setter... Not entirely true, Leigh was doing Weight Watcher's before any of us, but she'd gotten to lifetime, then had a bunch of Real Life fall on her head and she quit, regained some of the weight, etc etc. Anyway... Thomas and I started Weight Watchers in January '08, Jeanne picked it up... April of that year? Carol in October... and I'm not quite sure when Leigh went back, but she's back at her goal weight... in our group of friends, we've relocated something like over 300 pounds...) There I go with those long asides again... sheesh! Anyway, the four of us (me, Jeanne, Carol, and Leigh) went clothes shopping at some of the trendy little shops up in Newtown.

Actually most of the shops there aren't terribly trendy, they just look trendy when behind the brick and class look of Newtown.

Carol's high school reunion is coming up soon and she needed a dress. I was in dire need of a few more pairs of shorts to get me through the summer, because honestly, three pairs wasn't cutting it, particularly when two of those pairs were bright pink and bright blue. There's only so many times I can wear the same clothes in a row before someone notices. Jeanne was short a few pairs of work-pants, and could have used another pair of jeans. I don't know if Leigh needed anything particular (she was a last minute addition because we didn't know earlier if she was going to get the time off from work) but wanted to hang out anyway.

We hit Anne Taylor first, where I immediately pounced on the saleslady. "I need your help," says I. I was wearing those grey-brown and white flowered pants that I got from Old Navy a few weeks back and a black top. The two items of clothing didn't clash, exactly, but it was the only top I had that even remotely went with the pants. "I need a top to go with these."

She took me around the shop and we looked at tops. (As a note, clothing salesladies are almost inevitably thrilled about weight loss... they can smell a commission a mile away and nothing says "new clothes" like 85 pounds gone...) We looked at various neutral shades, most of which were "not quite..." We looked at several different white shirts which they either didn't have my size or were too floofy for me. (I just don't tend to look good - in my opinon - in those 'romantic, feminine' styles. Probably because if I have too much froof on a shirt, I'll end up fidgeting with it. Or I won't iron it.) And then we found the perfect top. It was a white tank with some brown-grey crochet lacing around the collar. The lacing was almost the exact same shade as the background on my pants. Seriously, they looked like they were made to go together, it was that perfect.

After we found the Perfect Shirt, she insisted on showing me a bunch of other shirts, pants, shorts, skirts, dresses... anything she could think of that I might possibly buy (I did mention that salespeople can smell a commission, right?) and I ended up picking up a black and white flowered sundress. I probably wouldn't have gotten it - it looked in danger of falling right off my chest - until Leigh came up behind me and adjusted the straps. I hadn't actually realized the straps were adjustable.

Then we crossed the road to Lane Bryant, where Carol discovered to her glee, they had absolutely nothing that fit her right anymore. Their lowest size is a 14/16 and all the 14/16 dresses were just too big. We found one pantsuit/jumpsuit thing that looked really good on her, but she was going to need like $20 worth of tailoring to make it fit. (The hem of the pants part needed to come up a good 2 inches, and the elastic around the bust was going to need to be replaced with some elastic that actually had a good grip. The top looked great, but was threatening to fall down the instant she took a too-bouncy step.) She did still fit in their jeans from there, so she got a pair of those, and (I think) a wooden chunky bracelet.

Jeane, on the other hand, who hates jeans... tried on a few pairs of the Lane Bryant jeans, and declared them terrible. I'm not sure they are, but they certainly are confusing. The sizes are all wonked - they retooled the sizes so that they start at 1, which is equalish to your size 14 in other stores, and go up from there - and then they come in three color-cuts. Red, blue, and yellow. (Not that the jeans are anything but blue and dark blue, but red is like extra butt and thighs, yellow is for extra tummy, etc.) So, while I think the jeans are quite excellent, you do sort of have to try on a red one, blue two, and yellow three, frequently, before you figure out what your size combo is. If you're not happy wearing jeans in the first place, the style-size-cut thing can be a bit intimidating. When I first bought pairs of the new styles (I only ever actually bought one pair, since I was on my way out of Lane Bryant shops just as the new jeans were coming in) I had a saleslady assist me with what sizes and cut she thought I should be in.

We left there and headed over to Old Navy, where I managed to score a sale or two. Technically, just one sale, but since I bought two pairs of shorts... I have figured out the 4/6 thing. Some of my shorts are 6s and some are 4s, and I couldn't figure out for a while WHY I could wear a 4 in some styles and not in others. It turns out that it's where the waist lays. If it's a high-waisted piece (ie, the snap fastens over or around my navel) I can wear a size 4. If the snap goes 1 inch below my navel (mid-waist) or around my hips (low waist) then I need a 6. It's not that I can't fasten a size four at a mid or lower, but I muffin-top over them. Yuck. I'm still working on tightening up my abs, but I may never get any better than this.

Carol and Jeane were both very excited to realize that they could, actually, shop at Old Navy. (Unlike me, where I spent a while in the Lane Bryant sort of nostaligically fondling the clothing that was never going to fit me again... I know a lot of prior fat girls bid a cheerful fair-the-well to Lane Bryant, but I always felt... comfortable there. For me, being in a fancy boutique is intimidating. Lane Bryant feels like home...) Jeane found a few pairs of pants, Carol got a very cute top and some tanks, and some very nice water bottles. (Which reminds me, YOU got a DEAL, girlfriend. I saw those exact same water bottles in Target on Friday for $17 a piece!!)

After that (we did shop til we dropped!) we headed down the street to J Jills, which was going out of buiness. Prices were marked down, down, down, and then 70% off after that!

Which meant I picked up a pair of silk pants ($6), a linen jacket ($9) and a really nice wool-cotten blend sweater ($11). If I'd bought them not on sale... the three items would have run me over $300. Nice.

We were all so enabling each other to spend money...

Seriously.

"Oh, that looks SO CUTE! You MUST buy it!"

I'm quite sure the saleswomen in the various shops were delighted to see us. I know I spent at least $100 total, the others similiar amounts or more...

You know, when I used to go shopping, it was this rapid, horrible event.

Run into the store, pick one or two things that weren't horribly colored. Often I didn't even try them on in the shop. Honestly. I would rather deal with the hassle of taking something back for an exchange than risk crying myself sick in the dressing room. (Also, I hated taking off my clothes in front of three mirrors. I mean, seriously. With bad lightening. So not like I ever looked good, but did we really need to go through all that?)

Now I go into the dressing room with anywhere between 8 and 10 items, try on a bunch of stuff, come out of the dressing room to look at it, solicit opinions, feel how it moves when I move, etc. We spent all afternoon trying on clothes.

And honestly, I couldn't have imagined a better afternoon.

Sushi. Shopping. Chocolate.

Fantastic.

(As a note, despite not tracking and massively eating out all week while Jeane was in town, I apparently managed to get in enough activity points - the children's museam especially was a LOT of activity!! - I managed to drop weight this week... down 1.6. I'm back to less than 5 pounds til goal...)

Under Consideration

I've been thinking a lot recently; having 6 hours outside, alone, will do that for you. (Of course, if you follow my twittering adventures, you will also know that 6 hours, alone, outside, in the 90+ degree heat with no cloud cover will also induce vomiting, passing out, wimping out, and accidentally sitting on a freaking ANT's nest... And hey, I'll take A.N.T.s - Automatic Negative Thoughts - over actual physical ants any day of the week!)

What have I been thinking about?

First thought: Declaring goal.

I've been at or below my "acceptable" weight for about 10 weeks now. I crossed under 141 pounds on April 27th, which is the highest my weight can be (without a doctor's note!). Since then, I've been playing hunt and peck with my weight. (I will confess, I have dropped 8.8 pounds since then; but that first week on Geoff's eating plan really kicked my weight loss in the seat of the pants...)

My original stated goal was 125 pounds. And then, since I have to weigh in post-lunch and fully dressed, I decided that I would do 130, since I didn't want to have to actually weigh about 120-122 in order to maintain my WW goals... (street clothes weigh between 2 and 5 pounds... a pair of jeans weighs at least 1 pound and could be as much as 3 pounds. Just in case you wanted to know that.) Now I'm fluttering around 134 - 135; and the weird thing is, I feel so much better about my weight recently.

I think I got some validation with that article that was published at MSNBC. My "problem" wasn't getting loads of sympathy... or at least, not the sort of sympathy I was looking for. I got a lot of exasperated "you look fine, sheesh." and "what the hell is your problem, you're a size 4, for pete's sake." I understand that, I really do. A year ago, I'd have probably been yelling at me, too.

And yet, I wasn't as happy with my weight and my appearance as I thought I'd be when I was looking at the greener pastures from so far away. (I also further think that some of the exasperation directed at me was transferred aggression; "If she doesn't think she looks good at a size 4, what the hell do I look like at a 16, and I was sooo happy about being in a 16...")

Now, however, a mere two weeks after the article was published, I'm feeling better. More comfortable in my body. Vindicated. I'm still not 100% happy, but let's be serious... is anyone 100% happy with anything? There are always going to be things I don't like about myself, or my appearance. The day we decide we can't possibly get any better is the day we should just go out and die.

So, I've been thinking about declaring goal at 135 (what IS it with us and wanting some nice round number... I'm half tempted to declare goal at 134 just to be obstinate and stubborn and weird...)

This will 1) cut down on my monthly outgoing cash, as I will become a lifetime member in ~6 weeks. I haven't had any trouble keeping my weight the same(ish) or continuing to move down. Even my large weight bounces have been in the 1-2 pound ranges.

2) hopefully allow me to relax, a little. Not so much relax about what I'm eating, but damn, stop being obsessed with myself.

3) I still have the option of losing more. Thomas declared his weight goal at 175 and now clocks in at a sweet 162 pounds...

On the other hand, I did SAY I was going to get to 130, and man, I hate not doing something that I said I was going to do.

So, I'm conflicted.

What are your thoughts?

Second Thought: Guest Posts

I'm setting August aside for some guest posts. I've already approached a few writers and dieters about writing guest posts for me and their response has been enthusiastic. So, if you're interested in writing a guest post for me, hit me up in the comments, or shoot me an email at tisfan at gmail dot com. Likewise, if there's something you'd like to see covered here, contact me, or comment me, and I'll see if I can't find an expert/bullspinner to write something about it.

Third Thought: Upcoming Posts

I've got some stuff in the works, including an upcoming virtual book tour with Kathy Balland. I'll have a copy of her book (signed!) to give away. I'm going to do an interview with her, so if there are any questions you have for her, please let me know so I can get my interview prepped!

Shiny Happy People (make me sick). I've been considering writing a blog post about my attitude. Sometimes I get really, really tired of people telling me how important a good attitude is and how much more you can accomplish with a positive attitude and lemons into lemonade, blah blah blah... I have a craptastic attitude, and I'm here to tell you that even us sourpusses can succeed! Would you all be interested in listening to my rant on that particular subject?

The Hair and Makeup Syndrom. Ever notice how different people look in their before and after pictures? I'd like to explore the nature of the beast... anyone interested in that? Thoughts? Commentary?

Fourth Thought: No, not really.

It's not, since I didn't know how much my weigh in would be pre-falling over, but for those of you here for Healthy You, I'm down .4 this week. I'm not sure that counts, tho, since I was all (according to everyone else. I felt ok. A little tired, but ok...) freaked out yesterday. It was exasperating, actually, since my husband wouldn't let me stay home alone while he went to give blood, and made Leslie babysit me. Eyeroll.

Anyway, before I fell over onto an anthill yesterday and got swarmed (literally. It was scary and freaky...) those were my thoughts.

Almost Famous

I had a first yesterday.

I went in (again, I still don't understand what is up with my Wii Fit, which told me I was down about a pound for the week...) and weighed in. Up .8 pounds.

I was completely unfazed.

There were a ton (pardon the pun) of excuses for it; I just started my period, I ate high fat and salt content food the night before, and I had skipped my Long Walk for the weekend because of an annoying on and off coughing thing I have going on. Bwjenn, if you gave me your cold over the internet... well... I'll just have to figure out how you did that, because I'd really like to transport other things over the web...) But I didn't bother to state them. Obviously, I knew them, but it was like, not important.

The weight is coming off.

I feel good.

I'm getting, a bit, to feel like I look good. (Next time you see me, real-life, remind me to show off my arm. My word, I have muscles! /Flex)

So, you know, that's cool.

Also, some other cool stuff - blog related - has happened recently... I'm going to be hosting a virtual book tour for Kathy Balland's book Lose the Diet; Transform your body by connecting with your soul. I'll even have an extra signed copy for some lucky reader, so keep your eyes on this spot. I'm not sure of the exact date, but I'll let ya know!

And this article came out on MSNBC. That's me in that first paragraph there. (Yes, Kellylyn is my "real" first name. Isn't it AWFUL? Somebody should slap my mom. Really.)

Finally, I puffyheart my friend Geoff. I don't know why my head can know something, and even my husband/best friend/weight loss leader can know and tell me things, and I just DON'T LISTEN. Here's your stupid sign, seriously. But I've been following Geoff's food plan for almost three weeks now, and I feel SO MUCH better it's just unbelievable.

So, I'm going to leave you all on this note (again with the puns!)

This ain't a song for the brokenhearted
No silent prayer for the faith departed
And I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd
You're gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud

It's my life
It's now or never
I ain't gonna live forever
I just wanna live while I'm alive
- It's My Life, Bon Jovi

The Ballet

So, Thomas took me to the ballet this weekend; it was sort of combination birthday/mother's day gift.

I haven't been to the ballet in a long time; not since my best friend in high school died. (She fell asleep at the wheel graduation night and drove her car off an overpass. She hadn't been drinking or anything, she was just worn out. And as she was a brilliant, witty, friendly, pretty and talented sort, the whole event went to cement my opinion of the general completely unfair nature of the universe...) Anyway, Tracy used to be a ballet dancer and we (my mother and I) went from time to time to see her in various performances...

A few weeks ago, I was paging through the paper - have I mentioned I subscribed to the paper in an attempt to start being more frugal by clipping coupons? Thus far, it's been a good investment. In three weeks (the paper costs me $10 a month) I've clipped over $18 worth of coupons; and not coupons that I have to stretch to use, either, but ones that are stuff I would have bought anyway - (Ok, that was a very long aside...) Anyway, I was thumbing through the paper and there was an advert for Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet.

Further investigation (Small bit of trivia about me; I am a russophile. I love all things Russian - well, except politics - decorations, art, music, history, culture. Love it. I minored in Russian History in college sort of by accident. I was just taking classes that I was interested in and my advisor pointed out that all I needed was one speciality history class in a field aside from Russian Studies and I'd have a history minor already completed. My primary professor who taught most of my Russian Studies classes was enomoured of me, said he'd seldom met someone who understood Russian culture as well as I did, and I was the only student in the last decade to whom he'd awarded an A+ on a term paper. This did not, I might add, endear me to my classmates.) yielded the information that this would be one of the first performances of Prokofiev's intended ballet.

"Living people can dance; the dead cannot." This was the rather utilitarian explation offered by the freat 20th centure composer Sergei Prokofiev as to what possed him to alter the fate of literature's most celbrated loves, Romeo and Juliet.¹

Simon Morrison, a professor at Princeton University and famed musicologist, discovered in 2003 that Prokofiev's original score included different music and a surprisingly happy ending. Stalin-era censors edited out twenty minutes of music, thickened the orchestration and restored the tragic ending, resulting in a performance that was almost unrecognizable from Prokofiev's opus.

The Virginia Arts Festival is one of the few openings for this new ballet; a master's dream restored. In fact, the performance we saw actually preceeds the ballet opening in New York. For me, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity...

So, I asked Thomas, "If I wanted to go see the ballet, what might you say?"

Thomas frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "I've not been to a ballet since I was in high school, when my sister used to dance. I've no idea if I like it or not. Sure, we can go."

So, we went.

As I'm not a professional reviewer or familiar enough with the ballet to accurately describe the performance, I won't. I'll simply say I enjoyed it immensely, and Thomas's comment was "It wasn't the worst thing I've ever done, and the music was good." That's hopeful enough that I might be able to persuade him to do this once or twice a year.

Also, I got to dress up, and that was good.

This is my new dress; a size 6!! My shoes, while they do match the dress nicely, were unfortunately, a half-size too large, and made walking a bit dicey... why did no one tell me that losing 80 pounds would make it so that I lost two complete shoe sizes? I'm now wearing a seven, and all my old shoes are 9s. (Fortunately, I wasn't much into shoes when I couldn't wear heels, so I didn't have to replace too many pairs... in fact, I own more shoes NOW than I did a year ago...)

In any case, I had a good night... I felt pretty and thin for the entire evening, even after the dancers came on stage. And we were very, very close to the stage, so I got a very good look at how thin they were, and while they might be more muscular than I am, I don't really think that Juliet was all that much smaller than I am.

I found myself playing the Fattest Woman in the Room game again, but it was oddly different. I wasn't the fattest, nor was I the thinnest. And strangely enough, it didn't matter. I felt pretty, I looked pretty, and that was all that was important to me.



1. Leona Baker, Romeo and Juliet, Alive and Dancing

What Matters

My weigh in was good; down 1.8 pounds. My Wii Fit says I am snugly in the 130s... Weight Watchers (later in the evening, and with my clothes, says I'm at 141... if I lose anything at all this week upcoming, I'll officially be in my weight range for Weight Watchers, too.)

Last night was our quarterly "You should get more exercise" meeting.

Sometimes I wonder about the people who decide the meeting topics for Weight Watchers... I picture a board room with a bunch of men who've never been on a diet in their lives, mocking fat women and trying to decide how best to torment them with the meeting topics.

Seriously....

I mean, I know, there's a limited amount of things to talk about when you're talking about Weight Watchers. Food, food, portion control, food, sugar versus artificial sweeteners, food, exercise, restaurants, food, controlling hunger...

Deciding on a meeting topic each week would not be a job that I'd want to do.

I wonder how long in advance they decide these things... do they map out the entire year, or do they map it out one season at a time?

Anyway, yesterday was the "you should work out, even a little bit" meeting. We cover that topic about once every three months or so. (The problem with being someone who's been at Weight Watchers for over a year is that I've heard it all before...) Of course, this year, Weight Watchers is doing this walking challenge thing; getting people to train to walk a 5K.

We talked about it a bit, and one of the girls at our meeting was seriously rolling her eyes. Carla's been a member of Weight Watchers since before Thomas and I joined... and she hates working out, hates exercise and isn't the least bit interested in doing any of it.... despite that, she's still getting thinner... she's not quite to goal yet, but she looks pretty good. So, you know, you don't have to work out. It's not necessary.

On the other hand, it does have a lot of benefits, and I know we've all heard them before.

Improves mood
Lowers the risk for certain diseases
Improves sleep
Increases lung and heart health
Improves the ability to concentrate
Relieves stress
Builds muscle, which aids in weight loss

Yeah, we all know these things, right?

What I have noticed, in my more than a year now of losing weight and increasing my workout is that none of those things matter to me.

I started my exercise program, at first, because I thought I should. I didn't really want to. But I thought I should do it, so we started slow. We walked a mile. I didn't particularly enjoy it. It was cold and after about half a mile, my back, legs and feet ached.

Eventually, walking became more than just an obligatory form of activity and I started looking forward to it as a time to reconnect with my husband and do something with my child. Quality time with my family. My husband and I got between 35 minutes and an hour or so to talk without the distractions of computer and television... over time, I started to feel better about walking.

I tried adding new exercises in; I did a workout DVD for a while. Thomas and I went out and played tennis a few times. I tried Couch to 5K. Some things worked, some didn't. I didn't stick with much for very long; tennis got more and more inconvenient as the weather got warmer and more people were inhabiting the courts; running gave me wicked shin splints and even after multiple attempts, I have not been able to continue running for more than three minutes... unless I'm jogging in place in front of the Wii, something that makes no sense to me whatsoever. The DVD got boring. But I did continue to get some activity in.

Then our apartment complex added in a fitness center. So, I usually hit that three times a week now, doing elliptical, walking, biking, weights... I joined and completed the 100 pushup challenge.

So, there we are in our meeting, talking about the benefits of exercise.

I said, "Well, working out makes me feel Hard Core."

Some wiseass from the far side of the room mutters, "Hell, you are hard core."

"It doesn't matter what I am," I said, looking over at her. She's been coming to Weight Watchers for about five months now. I smile a bit, trying to be reassuring. "It doesn't matter what other people say. People can tell me I'm doing well, or that I look good, or whatever. None of that matters to me in the slightest. I don't usually believe them anyway. What matters is how I feel. And doing pushups makes me feel good, makes me feel strong, makes me feel sexy. It may seem silly, but I feel better about myself for doing 100 pushups than I have for losing almost 80 pounds."

New Shirt and Wii Challenge

I stared at the shirts.

What kind of masochistic bastard crazed fashion designer came up with this?

The shirts were pale colored, light blue and white, peach and white, pale pink and white. With a breast pocket. And a row of four buttons at the neck.

And horizontal stripes.

Now admittedly, I stopped shopping in the plus section quite a while ago, but I still view horizontal stripes as clothing only for stick women who are pretending they have breasts and prisoners.

I made a face. I loved the style of the shirt. And I adore that pale teal color. And I've always liked that semi-tye-die patterning... also, it was on sale. $2.99.

Ah hells.

What was the worst that could happen?

I snatched it off the rack and tossed it in my cart. I was already trying on a couple pairs of shorts. (Jean shorts, I'd grabbed a 6, and 8 and a 10. I've been having trouble with shorts recently... and some bright colorful cotton shorts in small and medium.)

I ended up trying it on without actually looking too carefully at it. I made sure it fit, and then took it off again.

This morning, I decided to wear it. I slid it over my head and then turned to the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles.

Wow.

One of the problems I've recently been having (with me and the mirror) is that I feel like my chest has shrunk enormously while the fat layer just below my ribs has... well, NOT.

Not according to this shirt. Wow.

Just seriously. I'm not being able to get over looking at myself.

I look like a brick house.

I think I'll be headed back to the K-mart this weekend and pick up several more of these tees in the other available colors.

_______________

Me and some friends are going to be doing a Wii Challenge this week, starting the 13th and running until the 19th. For starters, we'll be just doing 4 sessions during that week, of at least 15 minutes, and posting our high scores to each other.

Sounds like fun, I'll keep you posted on how we're doing...

Planks Alot

Today was my first session with my new personal trainer.

I have to stop a moment and admire that sentence.

See, I never thought I'd have a personal trainer.

I couldn't really imagine it.

Me. Having a personal trainer. Me. Working out enough to think I needed a personal trainer. Caring enough about the quality of my workout. To invest the money into a personal trainer.

I'm often reluctant to spend money on myself. I'm much more apt to push Thomas into getting the new pair of shoes he needs than I am to be willing to spend money on myself. I always feel somewhat guilty about it; because I don't directly bring money into the household, it always seems that spending money on me is... frivolous. A waste. Selfish.

Convincing myself to hire a personal trainer... it's been a bit of a debate. I mean, I'm still not to my goal weight, so I'm already spending $10 a week on Weight Watcher meetings. Adding a personal trainer to that... (and admittedly, this particular trainer is rather inexpensive, for the service; she only charges $20 an hour) more than doubled my "health and wellness spending."

On the one hand, it's an expense we really don't need. Our budget is crunched pretty bad; Thomas's place of employment has yet to approve this year's pay raises, so we don't even know what the raises are, or when they're coming out... food prices are still on the rise and while gas prices did go down for a while, they're creeping up again now...

On the other hand, I have pretty much killed my soda habit. I still have a diet coke once a week when we go for an afternoon walk, and if we're at restaurants, but we are trying to cut down on eating out, to twice a month, at most. I've started clipping some coupons and trying to learn to budget our food better, which has dropped our grocery bills (between that and giving up the soda) from $220 a week to $160-$180 a week. Not nearly as frugal as some internet moms I know (I have yet to understand how the HELL a single person could eat on $40 a week, much less a family of four. I personally think they're LYING, but that's ok...) but still, $40 a week in savings is $40 a week in savings. And we're no longer paying for Thomas's Weight Watchers (as he's something like 13 pounds below his goal weight...) And since I'm done with my dental work and I no longer need $90 worth of prescriptions every month... that's another $32 a week that we're not spending...

So, it's not like the money isn't there, if we need it. It was convincing myself that I was worth spending an extra $20 a week...

So, allow me to say it again;

Today was my first session with my new personal trainer.

On Saturday we had a "free consultation" session, in which we talked about my weight and fitness goals... the excercising and workouts that I was currently doing, and what I wanted out of a personal trainer.

One of the big things that's on my mind is that, honestly, I don't know what I'm doing.

I walk. I ride the recumbant bike. I do some stretches, crunches, pushups. But I don't know if my form is good. I'm fairly certain that I don't even know if I'm working all my muscle groups, much less what excercises are good for what areas.

I'm afraid of the weight machine. I know how to do a basic bicep curl and I can read enough to do some of the other excericises laid out on the weight machine, but I wasn't sure which ones I should do, or how many, or anything like that.

I wouldn't know what to do with a medicine ball if my life was on the line.

So, I headed down to the fitness center to work with my personal trainer.

First, she threw me at the elliptical for some warm up; five minutes at a low resistance. Because, she says, I need to get out of my comfort zone. (Funny, I didn't think the bike was in my comfort zone. I certainly don't feel comfortable on it...) I hate hate hate the elliptical. I feel all off balance, like I'm going to smash my face into the control panel, or slip off the back, or do any number of embarrassing and painful things to myself.

After that, we did upper body sculpting with the weight machine; bicep curls, tricep extensions, and rows. I have a great problem with locking my knees; I just don't feel steady with my knees slightly bent, which seemed to throw a kink into everything I did.

We did some squats, both with and without weights. I had a great deal of trouble with a medicine ball squat that was supposed to work my obliques (whatever that is...) because I can't seem to figure out how to pivot on my foot. We had to try several different excercises until we figured out something that I could do that worked that area... she eventually found that I could do a side crunch with weights, so long as she was standing behind me to make sure I didn't fall.

Not that I was that unbalanced, but more, I'm scared I will fall, and if I feel like she's there to catch me, I'm more apt to do the exercise correctly than if she's not there.

She had me do some leg lifts and then we did planks.

A lot of planks. I did plank dips, then a straight plank and hold, then rest, then plank again... we did these on and off for about seven minutes, by which point my lower back and stomach ached rather impressively.

She rather accurately assessed my physical condition (better than I think it is, but not as good as it could be) and then stated that my biggest problem was that I'm afraid. I'm afraid of hurting myself, I'm afraid of not knowing what I'm doing, I'm afraid of being clumsy. I'm not shocked by this revelation; generally speaking, yes. Of course I'm afraid, it seems only natural. My bone density is screwed up from years of being on steroids. I fell in the street one time and broke my arm in three places. And that was just falling down, not falling OFF something, or falling with a weight in my hand.

She gave me some homework assignments; 10 of these, 15 of those, as many of these others... that I'm supposed to do at least four times this week, whenever I can work them in, even if I just do a set of the leg lifts between wipes in a Sarth Raid, and then go the side crunches before bed.

So... I'll be seeing her again next week.

Do Good, Feel Good

[Jeanne, dear, if you're reading this, it's... um... going to widge out your phobia, so you might want to just skip this entry. Yes, there are pictures. Yes, I say "that word" a few times. So, shoo! Or, at least, don't blame me when you throw up, ok? Ok.]

Despite some setbacks, I am still working on my self-esteem project.

I keep a little notebook by my desk and whenever I feel good, or do something good, I write it in my notebook. Every morning, when I first get up, I randomly flip through the notebook and see what I've done good recently. I've also been using it to track my workouts and push ups, since both of those things are impressive, and part of my routine (You get self-esteem from just sticking to your workout for no other reason than you ARE sticking to your workout. Interesting how that works, don't you think?)

I was, for a while, decorating the pages with stickers, too, but I've started using those stickers for my daughter's rewards for helping me clean the house. Sometimes I think I should get "I done good" marks for successfully implementing a child-chore system that Darcy can and does work well with. (Could that sentence possibly be written any WORSE? No, I didn't think so... ) But that's ok. Sometimes I still dot the page with a smilie sticker if it was a particularly good day.

I've been having a really great weekend, truth be told. Friday I got new pants (in a size. 8!!) Ok, seriously, I cannot get over how good that makes me feel. I knew my 12s were probably too big. Not so much in the waist - or at least, they weren't sliding down off my hips the way my 20s used to. (On the other hand, I waited to size down from 20s until I was in 14s, so you know, there's a bit of a gap there. Also, it seems like the larger the size is, the bigger the difference between that and the next size down. Where a 20 might be really loose, but an 18 is TOO DAMN TIGHT, I can currently get easily into a 12, slip into a 10, I can also get into an 8. Weird, that. Women's sizes are just fucked up strange.) Anyway, I went to the shop and picked around in the jeans section. I selected a few 10s that looked nice, grabbed a 12 "just in case" I'd merely stretched out these 12s, and picked up an 8... When I was first starting this weight loss thing, I mathed out... "Ok, it took me X weight to get from size 24 to 18, that means when I weigh 125 pounds, I should be... in 8s. Or maybe just barely into 6s. Wow. Six. Ok, we'll say 8s. So I picked up the 8s just to see how much further I had to go until I hit my "goal size."

And in the dressing room, I slowly took off my 12s, then stood, looking at the jeans hanging up on the wall. And I thought, "Well, I'll try the 8s on and get the disappointment out of the way first." And stepped into the 8s. And slid them up. Over the thighs, over the hips. I thought I'd get the V-zipper "and ne'er the twain shall meet" thing going and was flabbergasted when they zipped. UP. Closed. And no weird muffin-top thing going on.

OMG!

Now, honestly, they were a bit too long, so I went back to see if I could find 8 petites, but the 8 petites I could find were of a different brand and were, for some reason, slightly smaller in the waist. I could zip them up, but they did do the muffin-top thing, and really, that's just Not Attractive. So I ended up buying the 8 regulars and took them to a tailor to have them altered. Seriously, they are size 8 jeans and I'll be damned if I'm going to look like a refugee from a corn-shuckers convention by rolling them up three times. (They're $60 jeans, on sale for $15, so even paying $10 for someone to hem them for me is still a great bargain.)

Saturday we got together in a group of friends, gamed for a little while, then went bowling. Silly thing, bowling. I was doing really horribly at first, and Thomas - Mr. I-suck-at-bowling - had ranked up fairly quickly with a spare and a couple of strikes. Then, as I got more used to what I was doing (and I did some more visualizations just before I bowled), I got three strikes in a row, at the end of the set, to win the game.

I was pretty psyched about that, too. Not necessarily because I won, although it did feel good to win, but more because my visualization stuff is really paying off.

Yesterday, I did good Great!

Not just for me, but for other people. I gave blood for the first time since High School. (god, I graduated from high school like 18 years ago...) And in high school, I only did it because as a member of the National Honor Society, I was required to do "community service" and giving blood was easier than picking up trash alongside the highway. (I've done that, too, a few times, and my god, I hate it. And if I ever catch you throwing something out of your car window, I swear to god, I will shoot your ass right there and then. Or run you over with car. do something nasty and unpleasant.)

It wasn't too traumatic, altho the volunteer lady did have to wiggle the needle around a bit to get it in there. It didn't hurt much, but I'm awfully squeamish when it comes to my own blood, and I don't like looking at it. The really funny thing is, I signed up to give blood on Jan 15th, and just three days before my appointment, I found out about this. MaNiC MoMMy is doing another virtual blood drive, so not only did I give blood, but I got my picture taken, and entered for her contest. How cool is that? I was talking about giving blood with my friends on Saturday and my dear friend Leslie said, "Oh, I haven't donated recently," and she ended up tagging along with me, so we both gave. Double bonus cool points!

I've always liked the concept of the Karmic Boomerang. Do something good, get something good back, feel more like being and doing good, etc. (Also, the schadenfreude part of me loves the idea of people who are complete bastards having transmission failure at 3am on Church Street.)

Well, I got whapped with the Karmic Boomerang this morning.

Today, I got a release in my email box for permission to publish the article that I submitted for a magazine a few weeks back.

So, I've had a freaking wonderful weekend.

(I could wish that these things would be a little more spread out so I can savor and enjoy each moment... on the other hand, this buzz will keep me going for quite a while!)

Update, 10:15pm: My weigh in tonight was really good, lost 2.2 pounds (for a change, the husband thing did not outshine me, gaining .4 instead of losing more weight. This is good, since he's still about 5 pounds under his goal weight.) and have lost another daily point, dropping under 150 pounds. Tomorrow will be really busy, with workout, shower, Thomas's haircut, and a trip to the laundrymat, so I wasn't sure I've have time to make a Healthy You post tomorrow. So, I went ahead and did this one tonight.

Why Happiness doesn't Make Me Happy...

In doing some research for my self-esteem project, I stumbled over The Happiness Project... specifically, this article on making yourself happier in the next hour.

Immediately upon reading the article, I did the following things:

• Made a doctor's appointment for Darcy that I'd meant to do for a while
• Sent out an email to a friend that I almost never see anymore, and who is a notorious slacker when it comes to returning emails or phone calls. I actually hear from this guy about once every 2-3 years. Which is stupid, since I consider him one of my better friends. (His bad habits of not keeping in touch knocked him out of the best friend category...)
• Set up an appointment to donate blood.

I felt better. I really did.

See, this is the thing. I firmly believe that, in order to establish good self-esteem, it does NOT MATTER how many times I tell myself I am worthwhile, nor does it particularly help when my husband tells me I am a worthwhile person. Or my friends. The only way I feel worthwhile is to act worthwhile. All the "You're okay, I'm okay" bullshit is just that. Bullshit. Words are cheap. It might give me a boost for a few minutes when a perfect stranger tells me they enjoyed my blog, and believe me, I do appreciate it.

But when I feel best about myself is when I honestly feel like I am being the best me I can be.

Which isn't nearly as often as I'd like.

Part of it is because I have a serious negativity bias.

I have a hard time recognizing my own accomplishments. I'm more apt to say, for instance, "I still have 30 pounds to lose" when someone compliments my weight loss than I am to say "thanks! I've worked hard to lose these 65 pounds..." When I clean my house, I'm more likely to notice what's still dirty than to laud the work that I've done. I can spend all day cleaning, and when I wake up the next morning, I'm more likely to see there are fingerprints on the door than to notice how shiny my sink is.

The curse of being a writer is the inescapable knowledge that I will never write as well as I should like.

It seems to be my curse in general.

If I'm being nice and helpful to someone, I feel like I could be better. I could stop snarking in my head, or behind their back about it. If I'm cleaning my house, I either feel like my husband and child are teamed up against me to mess it up just as fast as I clean (and sometimes faster) or that no one notices or cares if my house is clean, except me, and it's never going to be as clean as my father's house. When I write, it's not as good as it sounded in my head. When I cook, presentation isn't as nice as I'd like, or it doesn't taste as good as it should, or the points are too high, or my side dish didn't come out of the oven until the main dish was cold...

It doesn't seem to matter what I do, it's never good enough to satisfy the inner critic.

My inner critic is a big time jackass. Like, major league.

I bookmarked the article and moved on... a few days later, looking up something else, I stumbled on this post... same woman, slightly different topic.

First came the self-esteem movement. Then came the backlash to the self-esteem movement.

It’s pretty clear that repeating “I’m the greatest” or winning a trophy along with every other participant isn’t a good way to build self-esteem.

At the same time, it’s a rare person who isn’t sometimes – or often – plagued with painful self-doubt.

Gretchen Rubin, The Happiness Project

Wow. I was impressed to see we had the same views about self-esteem. For the last month, I've been fighting the sarcastic eyeroll about everything I was doing, remembering my Guidance Counsilor and his freaking IALAC statements.

Having now come across Gretchen's materials twice in my attempts to improve my overall happiness and self-esteem, I ended up diving into her archives.

This was a huge mistake.

Epic fail.

Gretchen's been working on her Happiness project for three years. I read everything she's ever written in about a month.

Have you ever stood in the doorway of your messy closet, looked at all the crap you'd have to dig out and look through, and close the door and walk away? There's just too much. The task is so huge that suddenly a house fire seems like the perfect solution.

[She picks at a few glasses on a table, then drops the trash bag in exasperation]
Marilyn Lovell: I can't deal with cleaning up, let's sell the house.
Jim Lovell: All right, we'll sell the house.

Apollo 13

I read too much. I couldn't even absorb it all. It was too much. I haven't even decided what parts of her project I agree with and what parts I think won't work for me. I like the idea of 12 commandments (or however many I need...) but I haven't been able to find the time to start my own list.

The last few days, I've been in a terminally bad mood.

There are times when I just want to scream. Why does everything have to be so hard?

Seriously. Losing weight. Kicking a bad habit. Becoming happier. Gaining self esteem. Cleaning the house. Working out. Writing a book. Editing a book.

I don't have a job, and yet I feel completely overwhelmed by everything I'm trying to do.

You know, being a Stay-at-Home-Mom can be the most stressful job out there. I don't get vacation. Or sick leave. I don't even get to go home at the end of the day. I'm on call 24/7. Even when I have a "day off", I don't really take a day off. I still have to cook dinner, watch the kid, do the dishes, fix the husband's lunch for the next day at work, get milk/juice/lunch. There are really, weeks at a time when I resent the hell out of this fact.

Everyone says to me "so take a day off, jeez, lady..."

If only it was that simple. I don't have anything else to DO. If I actually want a day off, I need to leave the house. (Which would require preparing for a day off by making sure my husband and child were going to be ok, and that, say, there was food that my husband could fix for him and her that wouldn't require him torching any more of my expensive cookware... seriously, the man is a kitchen hazzard!) So, where am I going to go? I have nowhere to go. I could take a day off, spend $75 for a hotel room for the day, and be bored? Since my computer would obviously be here...

It's a problem for which the solution is "life sucks, get a helmet."

(Actually, right now, I'm clinging to this vacation idea I'm going to do with My Evil Twin. She's going to come visit sometime this spring and we're going to get a hotel at the Beach and hang out together for a day or so... I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it...)

So, I have problems. I'm working on solutions. But my tendency to look at How Much is Left To Go is really wearing me out.

I'm taking a deep breath and backing out of this messy closet, so to speak. I need to start small, recognize my accomplishments, and then move on to the next step.

Baby steps...

One thing at a time...

Rome wasn't built in a day...

Just breathe.