A few thoughts and observations on overindulging on Thanksgiving…

First and foremost, I admittedly took it too far. My intention to restrict overeating to just two days bled over into three, with the fourth being an average weekend day. That will not happen again on Christmas and New Year’s.

When I overeat, I feel like crap. My first mistake is overloading my plate, followed by finishing everything on it. I end up bloated and very uncomfortable. To me, that’s a horrible feeling, so why allow it? I don’t get why my brain thinks well, you *have to*, it’s Thanksgiving! What’s the point of stuffing myself until I’m in physical pain? It doesn’t give me a sense of satisfaction. Not at all.

And then there’s senseless eating. I had a few things over the last few days that I really didn’t even like all that much, but felt like since I took them, I should eat them. The most memorable of these was a piece of pumpkin pie — I don’t even really like pumpkin pie all that much, and this particular piece tasted odd. I should have just thrown it out, but instead, I ate it. Why on earth did I do that?

On a normal weekend, when I allow more carbs, I’m still selective about what I eat, and actually feel a bit put out if my only options aren’t good ones. I want to enjoy every bite I put in my mouth. I want that to be my goal when I eat, regardless of whether it’s a normal weekday meal, or something I might consider more special. Why even tolerate bad food? Why add those calories to the ones I have to burn off?

So, in a way, Thanksgiving served as a reminder that I should be more conscious of every bite; not just because of diet, but because of enjoyment. It’s a reminder of something I already knew, really, but it seems I need to be reminded again and again. I would have felt better if I’d taken normal servings and not been bloated at the end of the meals.

Likewise, I ended up gaining a total of 8 pounds; water weight, since most of that has come off, but still, it’s no fun watching that scale go up — for any reason. Luckily, most of it has come off since then, and I’m hoping my actual losses will resume next week.

This weekend is bringing its own challenges — another situation in which it seems to be allowable and encouraged to overeat; I live in the south, and there’s an ice storm moving in today. Chances are that we’ll lose power. I’m not sure why the immediate reaction of most people is to clean out the grocery store shelves when there’s a pending storm; they usually only last a couple of days, tops, but we do it, anyway. Our house is no exception.

Because, you know, chips and cheese dip are necessities to survive ice storms. 😉 Me, I’m prepared; the cheese dip is okay (in moderation), and I have other things to dip in it. No chips for me. Last week reminded me that I need to have a plan for special occasions — whether those occasions are holidays, celebrations, or unusual weather.

There’s no weight loss to report this week, but the good news is that I’m feeling a lot better about last week’s transgressions; it’s better to learn from them than to throw my hands up in defeat and use it as an excuse to give up, because I have had those feelings on occasion over recent weeks. I feel more solid, now.

This is one of the tough times, and I admit that I didn’t see it coming — and my Inner Walt is screaming at me that I’m not good enough. The screaming is pretty loud today. This is why it’s important that I keep this blog; because I need to talk my way through crisis times like now. I know what makes sense, and the inner voice doesn’t. Still, inner voices don’t listen to logic.

A couple of things have happened. First, let me get it out of the way: no weight loss this week, but with Thanksgiving on Thursday after two weeks of big losses, I didn’t expect it. That’s not the reason I’m struggling.

I’m floundering, and I very much need to get back to being in control and not allowing those inner voices to rule me. I know I can grab back that control.

The first issue is thanks to smart phones — and social media. Someone I love dearly just recently got a smart phone. She’s doing what’s normal with it; she thinks it’s okay to take videos and post them. She posted a couple of me; one just this morning, and I assure you that while I know it’s not on a service that anyone I know uses, I am absolutely and positively mortified to know the video even exists. I had one hell of a drinking binge yesterday (another issue entirely, but it didn’t help) and today, I look like death. She took a video of me playing with a dog.

Maybe no one else thinks twice about that video, but I feel I look grotesque. No make up, no shower, Jabba the Hut-like, incredibly fat, morbidly fat, and I am mortified that it’s out there for ANYONE to see. I am truly fighting with myself over this, because unfortunately, that’s who I am at this moment in time, and I really need to love myself as I am. This is a horrible trial for me, even when I’m at my best.

Do I leave that video, knowing that it is me at this moment, and I will improve, or do I ask that it be taken down? I don’t know. I’m trying hard to just leave it alone and understand that at some point, I’ll look at it and forgive myself — but not now.

The other is a discussion I had with a dear friend last night. We were talking about vacations. We took our last vacation with them in the summer of 2012. It was after that when I piled weight back on, to the tune of 100 pounds exactly. My friend doesn’t realize or understand that I’ve put on that much weight; the eyes of friends are mostly blind when it comes to stuff like this… except what she said hurt me. And bothered me. Once again, it didn’t help that I drank too much and at least I filtered what I felt instead of saying it aloud.

Essentially, we were talking about vacationing again next summer — and I told her that were we to go again, I’d have similar physical limitations to what I did the last time. While I think I can lose at least another 30-40 pounds, I won’t be at the point I was last time. For me, weight never goes off as fast as it comes on.

Still. She inferred that if I actually tried harder, it wouldn’t be an issue for me.

Tried harder.

It might as well have been my father, telling me you’re not good enough.

She meant well. She just has no idea what it’s like for me to fight the battles I fight. I immediately started questioning myself, and haven’t stopped. Am I trying hard enough? Could I be doing more? And while questioning isn’t a bad thing at all, the result of the two of these things combined made me feel like losing 30 pounds wasn’t good enough. Like I had no right to be proud of that.

Because — so what? There’s so far to go, and nothing has improved to the outside world, so why try, if you can’t be good enough?

I know I have to squelch those voices in order to succeed, and I know that in fairness, no one else knows what baggage I have or how I punish myself over the silliest of transgressions. I knew when I started this journey that it would take years to lose this weight and regain my strength and my dignity. I am barely three months into it. This is just the beginning, and the things I have ahead of me should require hard work, dedication, and not be easily won or accomplished. Easy victories rarely require lessons to be learned.

Still. That voice is screaming at me.

It doesn’t help, either, that I’m on Day Three of a four day “cheat” — and I will have to go through at least a couple weeks of detox to pay for four days. I’ll remember this at Christmas and New Year’s, though they don’t tend to be as much of a “food holiday” as Thanksgiving.

I need to remember how I’m feeling, right at this moment, and throw this level of anger back at the saboteurs when the next challenges come; and I know they will come. I need to grab back that control and stand for my own dignity. (And I think I’ll start with asking nicely for those videos to be taken down, because it is an issue for me, and punishing myself by leaving them out there doesn’t pay heed to my own control over myself.) It’s not that I’m hiding from who I am; in retrospect, I wouldn’t want my hungover unshowered self to be immortalized in video if I were 125 pounds. No one may see those videos… or any number of people might.

As for the other issue, I need to be careful to remember others’ perceptions — but in the long run, do what’s right for me. If that means changing something for my betterment, then I should consider that. But if it means feeling demeaned because someone else doesn’t truly understand that their comments are hurtful, I need to separate those comments from me and not give them the power to potentially derail me.

Because this is the bottom problem: this attitude makes me want to give up, as if the progress I’ve made to this point doesn’t matter. Logically, I know it matters. I know that losing 30 pounds is a good start toward where I want to be, and I have to work through this stage of my health in order to accomplish my goals. Giving up solves nothing; it just flings me back to that starting point, where I felt so horrible about myself that I didn’t even want to leave the house. Those days can never, ever happen again.

I have to remember, and I have to let logic win this battle and tell the inner voice to be quiet. After all, this hate I feel for where I am, right now, just intensifies if I don’t move forward with my efforts to become healthier; I just stay at this weight (or higher) and keep right on hating myself. And that’s no way to live.

Giving up does not make things better. It just makes them easier in this moment, and there’s a huge difference.

Finally, I have passed the 25 pound mark; this pleases me, because I set an initial weight loss goal of 50 pounds, and this means I’ve passed the halfway mark. Last week, I sat at 24.8 pounds down; this week, I jumped right over that number and hit 27 pounds down. I’m very pleased with this!

27 Pounds of Maine Lobster – yum!

I have a couple minor milestones that I should reach, soon; I tend to keep track of the points where I started losing weight in the past, if I’m over them — and I should be passing a couple of them in less than 10 pounds. In some ways, it’s like passing familiar mile markers on a highway; they’re small reminders of where I’ve been.

I’ll admit that my attitude has changed about them, and I’m happy about that. Each time I’ve dieted, lost weight, and regained it, only to lament that I’m at an even higher starting weight the next time, I have beat myself up for it. I’ve chided myself for failure. I have felt positively disgusted with myself for having allowed myself to reach such a horrible point — fatter than ever.

This time? It’s a strange feeling, knowing that I’ll be passing those previous starting numbers soon, hopefully by the end of this year. I don’t feel that disdain or the need to personally flog myself over it any longer. My perspective has changed; I’m happy to be closing in on those numbers. I feel a sense of peace.

That surprises me just as much as anyone. I’m at peace even though I have two hundred pounds to lose? Well, yes. I know the results won’t come tomorrow, or next week, or next year. But I feel so much better about myself because I’m doing something and making progress, and not allowing myself to get hung up on how fast or slow change comes. (Right now. I’ll allow that my attitude will need future adjustments at some point.)

Yes, I’m still embarrassed by how large a woman I’ve become. Yes, I still feel a great bit of anxiety, just performing many tasks that most people find easy. Yes, I worry about many things that others of lesser weight don’t worry about, because of my size and abilities. And yes, if someone could wave a magic wand and I’d wake up in the morning with the same body I left behind when I was 19, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

Despite that, it’s become easier for me to accept where I am right now. Despite an adult lifetime of dealing with weight issues, I’m still learning and changing. There is still hope that this time, things are going to work.

The rewards for me, as I pass the 25 pound loss mark, are all good ones. I feel better than I have in quite some time; many of the health complaints I had before starting this effort have either improved or resolved. My knees don’t ache quite as much, and I know they’ll feel better as my weight continues to decrease. My clothes are fitting better. Because I feel like I’m accomplishing something by paying attention to my health, I am paying better attention to how I dress, how I groom myself, and the social activities I’m willing to participate in.

If you’re kicking yourself because you’ve gained weight, because you’re disgusted with yourself — please stop. Take just a week and commit to changing your lifestyle in simple ways, even if you’re not ready to fully commit to a diet/health plan at this time. Just the act of stepping forward to make the effort can have a tremendous effect on you.

25 pounds of flour

I had a slight loss this week, bringing my total loss to 24.8 pounds. MFP wants to round to 25, so I’m taking it, but not claiming the full 25 in my blog until it actually happens. Still, it feels good to be this close, and as I’ve written before, every single ounce down is progress, and I’ll fight for it.

I also measured myself this past week. I saw good changes in some places, apparent gains in others — but at this point, I’m inclined to disregard the gains; not because I’m sticking my head in the sand, but because other evidence points the opposite direction. My clothes are fitting better, and that doesn’t generally happen with a gain. Measurements will be more of a reinforcement when I’ve lost more weight; the differences will be larger, and I won’t be quite as smooshy as I am right now. Hey, I’m fat. It’s difficult to get reliable measurements, when fat is so pliable, and when I’m not sure I’m measuring in the same spot. This is just the reality of the situation; if this is your lot, as well, don’t let it frustrate you; just keep pushing ahead.

After all, the idea of using several methods of measurement is so there’s never the reliance on just one. When you just use one indicator, and the inevitable frustrating days come, the likelihood of giving up is greater. Using more measurement tools means more opportunities to show success when one (or even more than one) method doesn’t seem to be showing what you hoped for. Also, if all indicators do show the same thing, and it’s a gain, it’s time to change something.

Just last night, my friend Lori posted an article on another blog that hit home with me. Although I’m currently in a good place mentally, there are times when a .4 pound loss for a week just might get me pretty frustrated. I’ve gone through the litany countless times, before: I get frustrated, I throw up my hands and think that if I’m gonna be fat, I might as well enjoy it — and then the weight gain starts. Because I gain weight very easily, that attitude right there is a killer.

The blog, 4 Ways to Embrace Slow Change When You’re Feeling Impatient, speaks to this. In it, the blogger writes:

 2. Trick yourself back to the present moment.

When my “internal committee” is throwing a small fit about how long something seems to be taking, I call its bluff.

So you think it’ll take me ten years to get to the place where I can have the kind of relationship I’m wanting?

Well in five years, would I rather be five years closer to that desire or not? In eleven years? In two months?

Usually even my most stuck-in-the-mud resistance answers “yes” to all those questions. So then I bring us back to the present.

Since I know I want to move forward on this no matter how long it takes, what’s one action I can do now to embrace the change I’m making, slow as it may be?

This is absolutely spot on. Every time I embark on another weight loss journey, it takes me longer to get the weight off. I get frustrated. I stall. I hit plateaus. I also don’t do everything possible to change those situations, because I just give up; I don’t complete the task, and I don’t do one simple thing, which I should be very good at: I don’t remember that when I’m heavier, I’d give anything at all to go back and tell myself to suck it up and keep fighting. If it takes me ten years to lose fifty pounds, I’ll still be fifty pounds lighter; and that’s an appealing idea, no matter how long it takes to make that a reality.

Although I expected a slow loss this week on the heels of a 3.8 pound loss last week, there will be times that even .4 pounds will seem like a monumental loss. While things are good for me right now, I need to constantly stay on top of my mental attitude, and not relax; I need to keep pushing for changes in my methods and lifestyle, so I am prepared to be the person who will be another 25 pounds lighter — or 200 pounds lighter — whenever that day comes.

If I can point to one mistake I made after losing 140 pounds years ago, it was that I wasn’t mentally prepared to be a thinner, fit person. My body was in good shape, but my brain was still that fat girl, and I kept scrambling back into that comfortable corner. This time, I have to work consciously on changing my fat brain as I work on my body.

On a final note, I am .2 pounds away from being halfway to my first weight goal. While I’m not celebrating quite yet, I’m happy to be this close.

The blog mentioned above is worth a read for the entire article, and while you’re at it, please also visit my friend Lori’s blog: Hey Lori!! What Are You Waiting For? — She’s much further along in her weight loss journey than I am, has done a ton of great fitness work, and has overcome some tough physical challenges.

Last week, I dedicated myself to the goal of perfection. This week, I’ve come close, and it’s paid off.

There are going to be ups and downs with every effort, weight loss or otherwise; you have to be willing to look past the occasional pothole while you’re on the journey, so you’ll finally get to the destination you want without getting sidetracked. Last week was just such a pothole.

This week has been much improved. While not every day has been perfect, I have done much better at doing the things I should be doing; eating right, getting enough water, taking my supplements, paying attention to what I am doing so I’m in the moment and aware of my actions. (Eventually, that will also include exercise.)

24 Pounds of Trout!

While I didn’t achieve perfection, I came a lot closer to it. I put in the effort. I worked on killing procrastination. And it worked. I have a loss, this week, to show for the effort.

The lesson is pretty straightforward: do what it takes. If you’re not doing what it takes, you need to adjust. If you’re not willing to adjust, you’re likely not going to get the results you want.

I’ve had a 3.8 pound loss since last week’s weigh-in; that’s a fantastic number, and I’m extremely pleased with it. I’m now 24.4 pounds down in two months, and I’m very happy with that total. (I’ll also be pleased when I surpass the point where I can find interesting photos that aren’t fish or babies!)

For the month of October, 2013, I lost 8.2 pounds, which would be a nice monthly average, if I can keep it; about two pounds a week. At this point in my progress, other than some moments of frustration, I think I’m doing well; I’ve seen a vast improvement in health-related factors, particularly symptoms of IBS. Generally speaking, I feel better. I’m in a better mood more often, as well.

My clothes are also fitting better, both top and bottom. While I haven’t dropped a size, yet (and I don’t expect to for quite some time), my clothes are definitely looser. Even my shoes are fitting better; probably because of water retention issues.

I’ll be at 25 pounds down, once I lose .6 of a pound; and at that point, I’ll be halfway toward my first weight goal of 50 pounds lost. Halfway! I really feel like I’m accomplishing something. Hitting achievable milestones feels good.

After last week’s revelations, I’ve had a good, strong week — and a loss to show for it.

And, along with that, some growth; I am more focused than ever, now, on goal completion. Not just in weight loss; in whatever I encounter, because inevitably, it’s completion that’s the issue, not just whatever it is that doesn’t get finished.

I have a big event this weekend; we attend an annual wine festival, and it means a lot more walking than I usually do. I’m probably about 60 to 70 pounds heavier than I was last year at this time, and I discontinued arthritis medications in the spring because of gastric issues. This combination means that even a minimal amount of walking causes me a great deal of pain and discomfort.

I mention this, because even though I have a pretty high pain tolerance, I dread the idea of having to endure great levels of pain, especially in public. My answer has been to let myself slide into becoming a hermit; it’s not much of a challenge, just staying at home and not having to worry about pain. I will occasionally venture out, but it’s usually for very short walks; into a restaurant, into very small stores, to friends’ homes.

This past week, I went into my local Wal-mart (a very small superstore) and another much larger Wal-mart in a neighboring town. It has been months since I’ve been in one; I find them very difficult to negotiate. Still, there were things I needed for my upcoming trip, so on Wednesday, I visited my local Wal-mart.

Let me back up: I’ll also add that I bought a cane. Yeah, a cane to help me walk. It’s collapsible so I can stick it in my (suitcase of a) purse when I don’t need it. I felt stupid using it at my local Wal-mart, so I didn’t, but by the time I got back to my vehicle, my knees were screaming at me. But still — I made it.

19 Pounds Lost — Just like this turkey.

On Thursday, I made the decision to drive to another town. (I live in a very small town, and often have to leave town to shop.) I brought the cane. I realized, afterward, that I picked the sequence of stores by how mobile I could be in those locations; a trip to the eye doctor’s office was no issue. Then, to a small department store, where I knew the items I needed were close to the entrance. And finally, the bigger Wal-mart; by then, I was hurting, and had decided to break down and use a mobility cart. I brought my cane in with me, just in case. (I’d used it for the first time at the previous store.)

As luck would have it — there were no mobility carts available. I cringed at the thought of using one; and now, in retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t. I did my shopping by walking it out, and stopping at various benches throughout the store to give my knees a break. The lesson: take your time, plan, and you can complete the task.

For me, those challenges were important to face; I’ve been feeling a great bit of anxiety about my upcoming wine festival trip because of the necessary walking. Although my knees hurt horribly both evenings afterward, it was more important for me, mentally, to make the effort and get out to meet the challenges. I still feel some anxiety about the trip, but I know that if I take my time, I’ll be fine. I know the grounds well enough to figure out, in advance, how to cope.

It was equally important for me to accept that using a cane gives me some assurance, especially when my knees are hurting particularly badly. This is temporary assistance; as I continue to lose weight, my mobility will improve. I also have a custom knee brace (that’s currently too small, thanks to weight gain), and these items are here to assist me, not make me feel inadequate. Getting them and not using them is — well — stupid.

So, this week has been a learning experience, and I’m glad for it. While I’m not crazy about my set of circumstances at the moment, I need to be more aggressive about using the tools available to me so I can improve my quality of life.

This week: I’m down a total of 19.4 pounds. Almost 20, and almost 40% to my first goal of 50 pounds off. I’m thrilled!

Yes, I’m aware of how trite the title is; it’s an overused phrase, and those who say that sort of narcissism is partly to blame for a lot of the ills of this world are likely right.

But stick with me, here. I’m not talking about the sort of “Love Yourself” that compels people to pucker up for duck lip photos in the bathroom mirror and post them on Facebook. I’m talking about the message of “Love Yourself” that people, like me, need to consider and hear more often.

This is a multi-faceted issue for me.

I still have a lot of mental sludge from my childhood. I know this; I recognize it, and I don’t see it as an excuse for anything — merely an explanation of behaviors that get triggered as an adult. I admit this is probably something I should seek therapy for, as my methods to date haven’t worked.

My particular brand of sludge came from my father. I know he was an inconsiderate jerk of a man; a sociopath, very self-centered, and unfortunately, charismatic. A lot of people over the years believed his particular brand of BS because they were drawn in by that magnetism, only to get burned by it. He was not a nice person at all.

As an adult, I know this. I’ve made my peace with it. I know that the things he said and did to me in my childhood were garbage. I know, above all, that he was 100% wrong, too. This wasn’t  just about my weight as a child; this was also about my value as a daughter to him and to my family. He was an arrogant bastard who was raised to believe women were nothing, and that’s how he treated me.

I hungered for praise and attention from him. I had two older brothers who were offered rewards for good grades in school; I only know that the offer was made. I don’t know that he followed through with it, because by nature, he often (intentionally?) forgot his promises. Still, I was never made that offer — and I was an exemplary student. Everything I attempted, I tried to excel at, and often did — only to receive absolutely no recognition from him. This also included any sort of parental support, from assistance with homework to attendance at school functions. He never did anything for me unless there was something in it for him.

I wanted his approval. I saw him give approval to my brothers, even if it was on a limited and selfish basis to them, as well. I yearned for it, and when my brothers were finally gone from home, I thought he would finally pay me some attention; and he did, but it was negative. His treatment of me was full of criticism and mistrust.

I know, now, that the way he treated me was not my fault. But there’s still a 16 year old that remembers having to walk outside to meet a date because I didn’t want him to meet my father, who laid on the couch in the evenings, often with his belt undone. There’s a 17 year old who was told she couldn’t date until she was legally old enough to be responsible for anything that might happen. (Mind you, anyone who knows me from those years would likely bust a gut at the thought that I might be anything other than very quiet and reserved.) Or the 16 year old that was offered $100 if I would lose enough weight to look like a mannequin that happened to be wearing an outfit I’d commented on in his presence.

I won’t continue with the examples; I’m not looking for condemnation of him, or sympathy.  I know he was wrong, and I don’t need anyone to agree with me. He passed away years ago, and I made my peace with him before his death, but that damage is still there. That overwhelming sense of not being good enough is still deeply entrenched, regardless of how hard I try, and it’s that inner voice that happily chimes in and reminds me that I’m not good enough when I’m not getting the results I want. Not just in weight loss, either; in anything.

It just seems to be the strongest when it comes to weight loss.

This seems to manifest itself in two ways; I tell myself that the opinions others have of me does not matter. That I am strong enough, and determined enough, to value my own judgments and succeed. If I tell myself that enough times, I believe it (at least temporarily), and it actually works.

But only to a point. I do care. I am sensitive to the approval of others. I want validation, and when I don’t get it, I feel like the teenager who tried her best and got ignored — again. This makes me vain, I realize. It also makes me want to make sure everyone on God’s Green Earth knows that I wasn’t always fat. That I have made supreme and successful efforts in the past when it comes to weight loss — as if I have something to prove to anyone else, when I really don’t.

I fear perceptions. I worry that when people read, here, what my real weight is, that they devalue what I have to say, who I am, who I was, what I want to accomplish. I am horribly embarrassed to be seen as a failure; not only by people I know, but people I don’t know. I can feel my anxiety level going up just writing about this.

Not good enough.

So I do things to convince myself I was/am worthy. I look for that validation. I can be very obsessive-compulsive about things, to the point where I cause my own failures. These feelings of unworthiness are amplified the heavier I am, so right now, they’re through the roof.

I know I have to work through them. My own logic tells me that I’m probably pretty average when I view other people. If someone’s overweight, I might note it, but I don’t hold it against them. If I see someone I knew from years ago and they’ve put on weight, I might notice it (along with graying hair or other physical characteristics), but I don’t see it as any sort of personality flaw or value judgment. I only see what made them my friend in the first place, and that rarely has anything to do with looks; much more with how that person made me feel when they were around.

So, it’s definitely dysfunctional that I automatically assume that other people view me in any different light. I know that. I have to work on it, especially times like now, where I grow impatient with progress (for absolutely no reason; I’m actually doing quite well) and that sense of unworthiness arrives right on time.

I know I need to work on the concept of “Love Yourself”; not in a vain way, but in forgiving self-acceptance. Last week, I talked about the “Blerch”; now, I realize that “Blerch” for me is “Walt” (My father’s name). I always knew that, but I confess that I thought I had that issue beat.

Whoever or whatever your “Blerch” is, it’s time to have a serious talk with it.

17 pound baby girl.

As for weight loss this week (did you think I forgot?), I had my monthly review. I’ve completed one successful month on plan and lost 16.2 pounds. I’m happy with that.I’m also happy to report that some of the physical problems that moved me to give weight loss another try are improving. I’ve had some IBS-related issues that seem to be clearing up. I’ve done better about drinking all my water and taking all my prescriptions and supplements; I’m horrible about taking them.

I’m now at 17 pounds down. I’ve had my ups and downs these last couple weeks, including a temporary gain of water weight; I’m glad to see that I’m down this week. As I’ve said before, I’m fighting for every single pound, and I have seen the weight drop since last week in fractions of pounds.

That’s a 17 pound baby. Ouch! I’ll be glad when I’ve lost enough weight to use examples of weight loss that aren’t fish or babies. 😉

This past week, I hit a speed bump. I’ve been pretty happy for the past 3+ weeks to have lost a nice amount of weight (15 pounds before this week; see the update on that, below), and to only have seen losses on the scale.

I know, though, that at some point, that would change, and that’s the detriment of weighing daily; no matter what I feel like otherwise, that number on the scale does destructive things to my brain. My evil negative-talking alter ego jumps out and starts feeding on my insecurities.

From a purely physiological standpoint, I know that I’m on track with my diet. If a calorie is a calorie is a calorie (a subject I have some opinions about, but I’ll leave for another day), it takes 3500 calories over and above what your body needs to maintain itself in order to gain one pound of fat. While I am on a low carb plan, I also pay attention to calories. I track my food and water intake religiously.

So, last weekend, when the scale drifted up two pounds, I knew I hadn’t overeaten 7000 calories that added on a little over two pounds in just as many days. What I was carrying was water weight. I could feel the bloat and the discomfort in my joints. Historically, my body has gained up to fifteen pounds of excess water weight, and let me tell you — that’s extremely painful. In the grand scheme of things, those two additional pounds were just something to watch and take note of. I adapted by making sure I fully hydrated each day, because the body may retain fluids when it’s dehydrated.

Everything else was below the threshold I set for myself in order to lose weight. I didn’t deviate. So, the extra weight was water, and in time, the water would filter out of my body.

Logically, anyway.

But that’s when my bad brain starts kicking me around.

“Oh, sure, it’s water weight! You did something wrong. You failed. You’re lying to yourself.”

“Every morning when you step on the scale, you’re making it worse. What you’re doing isn’t working. Why are you making this effort if it isn’t going to work?”

“Is that whole ‘water retention’ theory even legit? How long are you going to let yourself continue to gain weight from ‘water retention’ before you do something about it, like go get a diuretic to get rid of it? How do you know, for sure, it’s water?”

“Making excuses already? Do you even believe this crap you tell yourself?”

The negative self-talk is a huge problem for me. I’m writing this blog on Thursday night; tomorrow morning, Friday, is my official weigh-in day, and I haven’t been below my lowest weight since last Friday. There’s a diseased part of me that wants desperately to wake up in the morning and not only see a two pound loss of the water I gained, but a couple more pounds loss in addition, so I can report at least a two pound loss this week. I’m that competitive — with myself, telling myself that if I can’t achieve that simple number, I’m failing.

And worse: if I’m failing, I should give up.

Because I’ve done that every single time before — and giving up worked so well for me. (*insert eye roll*) It’s dumb to give up and give in to that voice, and I know it. Sometimes that voice is just a little whisper, and sometimes it screams at me. Sometimes, I imagine it even comes out of other people’s mouths, actions, or attitudes when they do or say something that I perceive as criticism of my weight.

Matthew Inman, author of The Oatmeal comics, even addressed this in one of his comics; he calls it The Blerch (http://theoatmeal.com/comics/running). This is a must-read if you’re working on getting healthier; his description of The Blerch is pretty close to that nasty voice that plagues me at times when I’m vulnerable.

I accept that the voice exists, and while I acknowledge it, that doesn’t mean I’m going to give in. No, logic has to prevail when I reach the inevitable speed bump, like I did this week. I have to shut out the voice.

It’s Friday morning, now. The weigh-in: I’m still at 15 pounds down, so it’s unchanged for the week. The good news is that the difference in weight is only .2 pounds up from last week; higher, but the water weight is decreasing. I’ll take that. I’d love to report a higher number for pounds lost, but that will come in time.

Next week will complete one month on plan; I’ll be measuring, taking photos again, and reviewing how things have gone. At this point, if 15 pounds turns out to be the final for the month, I’m okay with it: that’s 15 pounds that used to be attached to my body and isn’t, anymore.

I’m past the ten day mark in my diet, now — and while that certainly doesn’t seem like a long time at all, there have been plenty of times when I’ve meant to make a commitment to healthier eating and haven’t made it this far. Those times, I really wasn’t ready, and I think you have to be in the right mindset to successfully start any sort of a weight loss program.

12 pounds of bowling ball!

I’m feeling pretty good, and when I did my weigh-in this morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find 12 pounds gone. In fact, this surpassed my hopes; I was hoping for a 10 pound loss, since I was at 9.6 pounds down just yesterday. 12? I’ll take it! Passing 10-pound increments, whether it’s in loss or in weight, gives me a happy little dieter’s thrill.

I’ve had a few challenges over the past week; weekends are tough, and so are networking events like the one I had last night. Our company attended a Chamber of Commerce event that included a catered meal, and rather than risk whether there would be appropriate food available, I brought a couple of Atkins bars with me. (I’m on a low carb plan.) I made it through the evening without beating myself up for bad food choices — because I didn’t make them to begin with. Maybe the scale’s kindness to me, this morning, was karma. 😉

Generally speaking, I’m feeling pretty good; just eating cleanly will often take care of some issues in pretty short order. For instance, I have IBS issues, and eating low carb helps. I’m not carrying as much water weight, so my joints aren’t hurting as much as they were. I’m starting to feel a difference in how my clothes fit.

At this point, I’m excited, and I like being in that state of mind, because often, I begin weight loss efforts with a “fake it ‘til you make it” attitude. I feel more ready for this challenge than I have in a very long time, and although I haven’t really noticed great changes yet, I feel very good just for having started the effort. I feel like I’m doing something for myself that I can be proud of, rather than constantly mentally flogging myself for not choosing healthier options.

That feeling of accomplishment is truly what I need.