First things, first: I can finally announce that I’m at a new weight loss low. Ain’t it great? I am exactly 149 pounds down from my starting point. I have finally broken a plateau; that has lasted since last May.
“A really strong woman accepts the war she went through and is ennobled by her scars.” – Carly Simon
I’ve waited a horrendously long time to pass Mile Marker 150 on my own personal highway. It’s been a long time in coming; I’ve been held back. I only need to look in the mirror to see who’s responsible for that.
Yes, part of the blame is because I had to recognize a need for a plan adjustment so I could progress. A tune-up, if you will. That got me a little bit farther on down the road.
I have lost 149 pounds of Floyd Mayweather, boxer.
The rest has been my good old brain and the mental junk I’ve clogged it up with, all surrounding my own fears of passing that mile marker. There was a fair amount to declutter; just when you think you’ve got a good handle on things, something else rears its ugly head and must be dealt with. A roadblock, if you will, that I constructed to stand in my own way.
I have been morbidly obese for probably 90% of my adult life. Being able to solve the riddle of why I ended up at a high weight of 371 pounds is absolutely crucial if I plan to avoid ever being in that same spot, again. It doesn’t come from trying to divorce myself from the things that landed me there; it comes from recognizing the scars and working through them.
At the heart of it is the eternal question: who am I? Close behind it: who do I want to be? One flows directly from the other. Without those answers, I am a vehicle with no steering wheel.
I was successful, once before, at losing 140 pounds, but I failed at keeping it off. The easy reason why is because I couldn’t answer those two simple questions. I wasn’t strong enough to cope with learning who I was, or could be; I wasn’t totally true to myself. So I gave up, and I let the weight come back, knowing full well that I was hiding.
Who am I? Right now, today, I am mentally strong, and I’m tired of hiding behind weight. I am secure in who I am. I’m learning immense things about myself, and one of the most amazing is that I’m perfectly capable of not only bouncing back from the scars, but that I know there are scars yet to come, and I’m not about to dwell on them. As Carly Simon said… I haven’t got time for the pain; I have a life to live. I’m moving the roadblocks and getting out of my own way.
Who do I want to be? My fullest self. Able to live my life with as much joy and gusto as I can manage. Remain true to me, to the things that bring me joy and a sense of self-worth. There’s no reason to hide, after all; I’m done with hiding scars. Scars are signs of healing, and that’s what I’m about.
I’m thankful for a lot of things this season — and these years I’ve spent investing in my health.
I’m thankful for being able to walk. Not too long ago, I could only walk with a great deal of pain. If I needed to walk any distance, my husband pushed me in a portable wheelchair. Even when I got better, I walked with a cane. I’m thankful, now, for being able to walk without assistance, and for fair distances — I don’t walk marathons, but I can cope like a fairly normal person.
No, really. Thank you!
I’m thankful for feeling so much better than I used to feel. I don’t live my days in pain; not anymore. Nor do I live them in depression, feeling bad that I have not achieved the things I set out to do. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I used to feel for myself, feeling fat and unloved, and yet powerless to change those feelings.
I’m thankful for being able to eat a Thanksgiving meal (or two, as the case may be, because Friday is Friendsgiving!) and knowing that I can, with confidence, return to where I was before eating large meals. I know now that what I do in the short term matters less than what I do in the long term — I can, on occasion, enjoy a meal as a treat. I may pay the consequences, but I know what they are before making the decision.
I’m thankful for my friends who have helped me over the numerous hurdles, even when I have resisted their advice. That includes my orthopedic surgeon. I’ve been studying information he’s given me and it makes a ton of sense. It’s never too late to adjust the journey. Sometimes you just have to take a different route than what you planned on, and it works out.
And finally, I’m thankful for the world that’s opened up to me since committing to change. My life is far different than it was when I started this journey, and it’s definitely more joyful and satisfying. Taking this journey has meant endless discovery; not only in figuring out who I am, now, but in becoming more me than I have been in a very long time. Being authentically me is the best gift I can ever give myself, and I am grateful to those of you who have been on this journey with me. Thanks for being there.
When I first started this weight loss journey over four years ago, I said I was tired of first days of diets.
Although I see my current experience as a full lifestyle change, since going back to the way I lived before means I will sacrifice every physical, mental, and emotional gains I’ve made over the duration, it occurs to me that every single day is actually a first day of sorts.
Every day, I wake up with choices. I can get up, weigh myself, commit to eating the right things during the day, take the first step toward a step goal. Or I can get up, skip the scales because I suspect it’s not what I want to see, grab what’s easiest for breakfast, ignore the voice inside that’s chiding me for not making the right decisions for myself.
Every meal, every opportunity to move, every sip of water, every step toward health is a choice. My journey isn’t one huge effort; it’s a long series of small choices, made every single day, that culminates in an ongoing improvement to my health.
Start now.
The fallacy with many diets is that they tout a beginning — and an end, as if it’s one continuous commitment that can be left behind once the final goal is achieved.
My experience has taught me the opposite: this is a series of beginnings, and as long as I draw breath, there is no end. There is no final goal. It’s a process that draws me as close as possible to where I want to be, and after that point, the work continues. The choices and the consequences of those choices do not stop.
Now, the longer I go on, the easier those choices are. Choosing not to eat the two bags of Cheetos that I know are just a few feet away is a much easier choice now than it was years ago. The same with going out for a walk, since my walks are no longer endurance contests for how long I can go before pain sidelines me. The pain is still there, but it’s not the same.
The process gets easier. It struck me the other day that although the first time I lost 140 pounds was much faster, the amount of time I was able to maintain before I started gaining (and finally giving up) was, in total, about the same amount of time I’ve been on my current (and hopefully last!) journey. As I go on, I compare a lot with that journey, and it is an astoundingly different process for me these days, especially mentally.
I got to a point where I was so desperate for change, back then, that a good chunk of every single day was dedicated to exercising, walking, maintaining a regimen so severe that the quality of the rest of my life suffered. I may have felt strong (and was certainly stronger then than I am at the moment), but if I wasn’t working, I was working out.
This time, I’ve surpassed my old loss — a feat I originally thought was impossible, especially considering the physical issues I faced at the onset — but the quality of my life far exceeds those days. My days aren’t just about concentrating on losing weight. I not only have the ability to work, to care for my loved ones, but also enjoy parts of my life I thought were gone, including music, simple joys like knitting, and just enjoying what life brings.
Finding a balance in all of these things makes the choices I make each day far easier. Every day may be a start day, but the rewards far exceed the effort.
Of course, there are the normal measurements you’d expect: my weight, my clothing size, inches for various parts of my body.
I also measure food, which you’d expect. I measure how many ounces of water I drink. I measure my steps as well as how much I sleep. I know the distances I walk. I can tell you within a few steps how far it is around my yard, to the corner of my street and back, up to the next stop sign and back, around the block, and around various configurations of my immediate neighborhood and beyond.
I also know what’s changed from where I started, right down to the fact that I now wear a full size smaller shoe.
I know, roughly, my average heartbeat. Add to that, my blood pressure.
Eat Less, Move More! Calories In, Calories Out!
With all these stats at my fingertips, you’d think I’d be able to predict when and how much weight I should lose in a given time period. That’s absolutely not true because my body — and likely your body, as well — doesn’t necessarily conform to the absolute simplicity of “calories in, calories out”.
That simple maxim is only true to a point. A certain percentage of my stats are misleading. My FitBit tells me I burned 500 calories before I even woke up, for instance — but that information is based on averages and not on my body, with its metabolic challenges and other issues. It doesn’t know how much metabolically active muscle I have; no, its numbers are based on my height, weight, age, and other profile information. It has no way of truly knowing without a doubt that I have burned 500 calories in my sleep.
The same holds true for exercise calories; a nice walk for 20 minutes shows as burning around 160 calories, but there’s no way of knowing if that’s actually accurate, which is why I refuse to eat my exercise calories. I work on the assumption that my body didn’t burn a single calorie, because the truth is, that number is also derived from averages.
I also have no idea how my body will truly use the breakfast I ate this morning. Will it all go for energy? Will my body’s metabolic mechanisms deprive my body of energy and instead send that to storage? I have no definite way of knowing this.
This is, without a doubt, the most frustrating thing about weight loss. For a large percentage of us, it’s just not as easy as “eat less, move more”, even though that’s good advice. Unfortunately, for many years, the diet industry has fed us eat less, move more and calories in should be less than calories out, and if we still fail to lose weight, we’ve been told we’re doing something wrong. Sure, there are folks who do it wrong, but weight management is a lot more complex than these simple platitudes.
I go through times like this; I had a big loss a couple of weeks ago, but not since then. There are things I have changed and that’s the likely reason why, but I also know that my losses are not all visible on the scale, and they never reflect a nice, clean graph with a line moving steadily downward.
Why do I stick it out? It’s as simple as those measurable things — the benefits I have received are immeasurable. I can’t begin to describe the elation I feel in simply holding my head up and walking without issues, and last night, I wore 2” wedges, which was beyond my ability when I bought them just last year. Those are simple things that I never would have given a thought to when I was young and didn’t have a weight issue; now, they’re non-scale victories that I treasure.
Those simple gifts keep growing as I keep going, and they are the reason I can look past the fallability of weight loss stats.
Since I’m a matter of 1.8 pounds away from 150 pounds as of this morning (148.2 pounds down!), I’ve been thinking about the things that got me here.
Things I’ve learned this time over the last time I lost 140 pounds:
Slower is better for me.
When I lost 140 pounds, before, I lost it relatively fast; the majority of my weight was gone in a year, before it really slowed down, and it took about 18 months total to level out at 140 and stay there for a couple of years. After that couple of years maintenance, it creeped back on pretty quickly. I had a heck of a time keeping my weight within an acceptable range.
My brain really never truly and fully accepted my body’s changes, and because of that, I sabotaged myself without really realizing I was doing it.
I felt like a fraud most of the time — a fat person trying to pass herself off as some closing in on a normal weight. I couldn’t accept that I really was that person that was just overweight instead of morbidly obese. I felt like I had to constantly prove myself; if the scale wasn’t moving, I needed to do adverse things to get it to move. And, wouldn’t you know it, I plateaued and stayed at one point for the better part of two years, and then crashed and burned.
I thought about everything I ate during that time when I was actively losing and when I plateaued — and I still do, but it’s from an entirely different perspective, now. I have a much better idea where my food triggers are, what the consequences will be if I choose to eat something that’s a trigger, where my zones are for losing, and how my body works.
148 pounds of lap dog. Who’s a good boy?!
Before, I convinced myself I could eat more because of the amount of exercise I did; for me, that wasn’t possible, because my metabolism doesn’t forgive calories that way. I overate on protein, thinking I was burning it all up. Not so — the body can and will store overages of protein the same way it stores overages of anything else.
I was also stubborn about things. My brain stubbornly refused to let go of the notion that I should review what I was doing and change my tactics. Instead, I kept spinning my wheels and digging myself into a rut.
Taking weight loss slower has allowed my thinking to evolve along with my body. I’m more willing to try different things to see how they work. I’m more educated on the workings of my own body’s reactions and changes, even though I’m still occasionally surprised. While I still have my fat-brain days, I have a truer idea of both my current abilities and my capabilities.
Letting go of being inflexible has helped immensely.
You can’t exercise yourself thin.
Now, before anyone disagrees with me on this, I do believe that exercise plays a crucial role in overall health. Two people of the same weight look vastly different if one is a couch potato and the other works out on a regular basis; muscle takes up less room than fat, so the more muscular of those two people will appear slimmer. Muscle is also metabolically active, which is a great thing for anyone wanting to manage their weight.
That said, there are a lot of fallacies out there regarding exercise, especially with the advent of shows like The Biggest Loser, which I watched for a couple of seasons, and then stopped because it angered me. I felt it perpetuated the idea that if fat people would only make some effort and stop eating, they’d drop all their weight. That’s only partially true.
On that 140 pound loss, I started early on by walking and adding to the length over time. I started adding strength workouts, and that was good, too. Eventually, I peaked, but kept pushing past that peak to the point where I injured myself, and constantly felt bad. The effort I made didn’t give me results even close to that effort. I over-exercised to the point of exhaustion, as if I were training for some big competition. I spent 90% of the time feeling sore and longing for recovery weeks.
I sacrificed far too much in the hopes that I’d increase my metabolism and lose weight, and ended up doing it entirely wrong — for me.
This time around, I only recently started walking, again — not because I didn’t think it was necessary, but because I needed to lose enough weight to make walking comfortably possible, again. I add a little bit at a time. I can feel myself getting stronger, and I would only call this light to moderate exercise. For me, though, I’ve been able to lose all the weight I did originally without exercise.
Sure, I’m larger right now than back then at the same weight. I’m well aware that I’d look tjommer and be stronger if I were still strength building, but back then, I believed that was the only way for me to maintain my weight — and I’m learning that’s not true at all.
My goals are to increase over time to moderate exercise; enough to generate health benefits without making me long for recovery weeks.
You can certainly change how your body looks with exercise, and I recommend it; but inevitably, it’s what you put in your mouth that makes the biggest difference, and there has to be a happy medium so that my lifestyle is one I enjoy, not dread.
I have nothing to prove.
During that first 140 pound loss, I felt like I had to prove myself. I’m sure a lot of overweight people feel this way, especially if they are obese, because they’ve endured a lifetime of both overt and covert judging regarding the extra weight they carry. When they make the effort to lose weight, they may be afraid to say anything, because others will then think “finally! It’s about time!”
If they fail, then, they feel exposed.
I drew a lot of attention when I lost 140 pounds. People didn’t recognize me because the weight dropped so fast. They were excited for me, but then I’d be asked for constant updates, and the pressure was on. If I couldn’t produce results, I felt like a failure — when what I was really doing was setting myself up for failure. And, of course, I failed. Big surprise, eh?
Big surprise, eh?
This time around, the changes have been slow and I’ve adapted better. I have nothing to prove, except to myself. If people think I should be losing weight faster or doing something differently than what I am, that’s on them, not me. I will get to my goals in my own time, and no one else’s. My accomplishments are for me, not to impress anyone else.
I created this blog to be accountable — both to myself and to those I value, because I’m really good at not being truthful with myself. Knowing the level of transparency expected of me keeps me honest. I admit that I often feel like I’m disappointing folks on the many weeks I don’t report a loss, but that’s my journey; how boring would this be, if I blogged about losing exactly two pounds every week?
As it is, my average loss per week is .75 pounds — that’s an average, and if you’ve been around a while, you know there are plenty of weeks that go by with no loss at all. It’s not a constant. That can be aggravating at times, but being persistent pays off.
The road to success looks more like a drunk on a mule charted it than a nice, flat highway.
My first big weight loss was pretty predictable for the first 100 pounds or so. I dropped weight in steps; I wouldn’t lose anything for three weeks, and then the week before my period, I’d drop 10-15 pounds. Every month. My weight loss graph looked like a staircase.
This time around, I was more than a decade older, past menopause, with other health complications that were finally being treated, but treatment doesn’t mean it’s suddenly easy to lose weight. My weight loss graph looks more like a tilted EKG, these days. I’ll drift up and then down, flat-line (OMG!), and drop again. It jumps around quite a bit and there’s no predictable indicator of anything, really. Trends, perhaps, but nothing I can look at and predict my loss down the road.
It’s taught me patience that I didn’t have before. It’s taught me to look at indicators other than weight loss for signs of success. I know how my clothes fit, for instance, and the variations are easier to tell the more weight I lose.
I should live more in the moment.
Losing the bulk of 140 pounds in a year meant I basically lived in thrift shop clothes so I wouldn’t go broke. Seldom did I find something I just absolutely adored, though. So when I kept smaller clothes and have found myself working my way down through them, now, some of them have been donated before I ever got back into them.
Why? Well, for one thing, they’re a decade or older, and some were just too far out of style to bother, even if I’m not a fashion plate. For another, I want to treat myself better and enjoy every moment, which means I want to like what I wear, what I do, how I spend my time.
I spent far too much time, back then, living a life that would get me to an eventual goal instead of living a life I actually fully enjoyed. I made do, I got by, I did things to move me forward — all well and good, but I denied myself the pure enjoyment of just living.
This journey has been about learning to change while creating a new lifestyle that’s not only manageable but rewarding, as well. I used to live thinking about the future; when I get down to size 10, when I’m thin enough, when I lose enough weight… all those were some distant goal and anything short of that goal was just along the way. Now, I take joy and where I am at this moment, and only a small portion of my day is given over to weight loss; it doesn’t define me the way it once did.
Living in the moment means I can find joy in the things I give my time to, whether it’s just day to day activities, giving myself over to my music, my work, or getting out and having fun. I don’t torture and punish myself in the name of weight loss. And most of all, I do not deprive myself of the things I love and enjoy.
I’m but a few pounds away from 150 pounds down. I initially plotted to lose 200 pounds, and then evaluate at that point where my health is. Here I am, nearly 3/4th of the way there — and while I know there are those that think a nearly four year long weight loss effort seems like a long time to endure, I actually am stunned to be at this point, with the reality that not only have I been successful, but that next 50 pounds is fully and completely in my power to reach.
Despite having been on this journey for three and a half years, my body is still surprising me.
At this moment, my surprises are my physical changes, specifically from exercise. A few months ago, I started wearing an old FitBit, just so I’d have a more accurate way to count steps than using my phone. Since that time, I’ve gradually increased my step goals from around 500 a day to 4,000 – and I’m meeting those goals. At the end of each week, I listen to my body; sometimes I increase that goal, and sometimes I stay put until I’m more consistent.
I wish I’d thought of that!
I’ve been paying attention and listening to my body all along, but physical activity and exercise is a different kind of listening. I often check myself, because I worry that I’m being too easy on myself — but my instincts say that this is the right way. I remember putting 4,000 steps on one day early in the process and my knees hurt badly the next day. Now, 4,000 steps is a pleasant challenge; not entirely easy, but not simple, either. Considering that not so long ago, I struggled to walk even around my own home without the use of a cane, this is fantastic!
My muscles are getting stronger. Walking helps more than just my knees and my legs; it’s helping my balance, my endurance, even my breathing. Getting out and about throughout the day also has helped my mental attitude, getting away from whatever I’m working on at the moment, often taking my dog along. There are just no negatives right now, although I’ll admit that on our recent rainy days, I have tended to get my steps in inside a store or community center. Sometimes that’s not the best thing for my budget. 😉
Simply put, I feel stronger, overall, since I started walking. It’s also another freeing move for me. I can’t tell you how many places I’ve wanted to go that I’ve reconsidered because of mobility issues; while I’m not going to go walk a marathon any time soon, I certainly don’t have the concerns about getting around that I used to.
My goal is to reach 10,000 steps a day. I don’t know when I’ll reach that point, but there’s not a rush; I’ll get there and I know it’ll happen.
Many programs recommend 10,000 steps a day for losing weight. I’m going to make this clear right now — that’s not why I’m doing it. Sure, my end goal is to lose weight, but that’s just part of the overall picture; the ultimate goal is to be healthy, and cardiovascular and muscular health are huge parts of that. Being mobile, having the ability to do all the things I want to do, and knowing my health is improving — that’s what I’m after.
It’s also a relief. When I walked for exercise years ago, I had time/distance targets and I always walked to music. That’s not a bad thing to do, but I always felt compelled to do it, rather than wanting to just get out and enjoy myself as I walked. Now I walk without distractions, and I take in everything around me, whether it’s on a park trail or in my neighborhood. I think about how my body feels, and it feels good to do these things, rather than a chore.
This is a long-term change that can only benefit me as I continue to lose weight and work toward the eventual likelihood of knee replacement surgery; the stronger my legs are, the easier my recovery will be. And afterward? I just might work up to walking a lot farther than I ever have.
I tried incorporating walking into my schedule last year, and it just didn’t click for me; now it has, and I’m very glad.
So, if you don’t mind, it’s time I got off here and got some steps in.
Sometimes, I’m just not sure what to write about, so I asked if anyone had questions about my journey that they’d like to have answered.
Here are my answers to four questions that were posed to me. Also — I’m down an astounding 2.8 pounds this week, and I’m as surprised as anyone to have a fairly large loss on the heels of several weeks of loss. The biggest change I’ve made is walking consistently, every day — and while I know I didn’t burn through 2.8 pounds’ worth of calories while walking, it has definitely sparked something in my system. 144 pounds down, now!
How do you handle stress eating? Is it an issue?
144 pound hockey player. Weight doesn’t include puck or stick.
Stress eating isn’t currently an issue for me, but that’s not to say that it hasn’t been in the past. These days, when I’m under stress, I’m more likely not to eat; it’s not like it’s a superhuman strength or anything. It’s more because my stomach usually gets upset and I don’t want to think about eating.
It’s been many years since I used to stress eat. I would eat my feelings and then I’d end up bloated, feeling horrible, and totally ashamed of myself. But eating when stressed, occasionally binge eating, and just frankly torturing myself with food wasn’t that far removed from other addictive habits I’ve had over the years, including smoking, and yeah, even obsessively playing video games.
Although they manifest differently, they were all addictive behaviors for me. They were physical ways I tried to make myself feel better for short periods of time. Some people might turn to other substances; for me, it was food, chain-smoking, or shutting out reality and making myself the deal that I’d just play one-more-game.
Over the years, I had to work on conditioning myself to do positive things when I feel stress, instead of self-punishing things. I once substituted playing guitar for wanting to eat; this was when I was a teen, and I ended up really enjoying playing. (Note: I intend to get back to playing at some point, since I like camping. What’s a campfire without an annoying guitarist that can barely sing, after all?) While I wouldn’t suggest learning a new instrument, recreating habits is has really been the key to this.
That’s not an overnight thing. In the early days of diets, believe me, walking by those cookies and leaving them alone is an act of Herculean strength. After 3.5 years, though? I just really don’t care if there’s bad food available when I’m stressed. It does take conscious cultivation over time.
So — these days, I don’t stress eat. I understand it, though, especially since medicating with food — with anything, really — ends up making people feel worse than before they started. Although no one asked for advice, I’d suggest trying to substitute something that’s more rewarding. It may not be a solution, but it’s a start; after all, stress eating is a reward for the system, even if it’s brief.
How do you deal with depression without going off track?
This shares a lot of similarities with stress eating, for me, so I paired them.
I have suffered from both chronic and situational depression. I know that the more I sink into depression, the harder it is to claw myself out of it; in fact, I wrote about a recent instance that reminded me of dark days that hit me roughly a month ago. You can find it here.
I’m no expert on depression; I can only speak about what I’ve experienced, but for me, the difference between chronic and situational depression was that the situation would eventually be resolved and I’d feel better. Maybe. Well, mostly. Otherwise, I would become totally unproductive and unable (or sometimes unwilling) to make choices that would help me work my way out.
Depression shrinks your life to a pinpoint, and unfortunately, it can become its own reward. I certainly didn’t want to be depressed, but doing nothing meant I didn’t have to deal with it or put in the work — something those who don’t deal with depression likely don’t understand. It can become a comfortable prison of our own choosing. It can force your life to become so small that it’s lived minute by minute, choice by choice, and sometimes, if the pain is great enough, we reach out for anything that will calm those fires, even if we know it’s not the best choice.
And then we feel bad for making the bad choice, and reach out for the same thing again, because even though we know it’s the wrong choice, it makes us feel a little better for that small moment in time. Depression shuts off long term thinking; the only thing that matters is that exact moment we’re in.
I’m human. I make the wrong choice sometimes. But instead of letting it throw me into a cycle of reward and punishment, I have had to change my thinking. Sometimes these things happen; and sometimes, if there’s something that’s particularly tempting or I have a special occasion coming up, I will plan for the thing I want — it becomes part of my plan instead of trashing it.
It’s also no longer my habit to turn to food for comfort. I rarely if ever eat anything spontaneously or without conscious thought. I also make sure the things that tempt me aren’t easily available if I feel depression coming on, but my circumstances are more controllable than someone with, for instance, children in the house.
That’s a pretty basic answer, but that’s how I stay on track, even when I’m stressed or feeling signs of depression. I may have to force myself in that direction, but if I make an error, I brush myself and go on, and recognize what the consequences of that choice were. Because it’s going to happen. I also have to constantly remind myself of where my choices have landed me in the past.
Also — I haven’t talked about this much on this blog — but I make periodic videos. I made one the day after I started my journey, and probably four or five since then. I knew I would need solid reminders of how I felt at each of those stages, what I was dealing with, how I looked on the video, where I was mentally. Going back and watching those videos, now, is quite the eye opener; it’s like my own personal highlight reel. I highly suggest it; it’s quite cathartic.
Weigh daily, or no?
I’ve tried both ways. I actually set out, once, to only weigh when I changed a full size in clothing, so I kept goal clothes that I would try on occasionally and then trade them out for smaller sizes when they fit. It did work, for a while, but it didn’t solve the base problem, which was an obsession with whether or not I was losing weight.
I’ve weighed daily. I’ve been obsessive about that, as well — right down to comparing weights before and after showering, what sections of the floor gave me the best weight, if my foot positions made a difference. C’mon, I know there’s at least one person out there that’s done this, too!
I’ve also been guilty of kicking scales, screaming at the numbers, and all kinds of antisocial scale activity. And that’s the issue, really, because whether you choose to weigh daily really depends more on how you view the data you’re getting. Because that’s all it is: numerical feedback, and it should never be the sole indicator used for success.
Since I’ve changed my attitude about the scale, I weigh daily, more or less. I track it, along with body measurements and clothing sizes. There are times when my clothing size changes but the scale is stubborn, and vice-versa, so as long as you can keep that number in perspective without wanting to stab, maim, mutilate, or fling the scale, I say weigh as often as you want. Just don’t let it mess with your head.
I may be oversimplifying, but basically burn more calories than you take in, stay low on the starch, sugar and carb intake and you should lose weight (not that I am doing any of this), amirite?
Well, yes, you’re right.
And no, not quite right. At least not in my experience. While burning more calories than you take in and paying attention to food macros make weight loss possible, the difficult part is knowing what those ideal levels actually are. That’s the battle extreme: all of us have to figure out for ourselves what actually works. What works for a while, may not work past a certain point and will need to be changed.
The body is an amazing self-sustaining organism that evolves with what we attempt to do to it, and most successful diets require constant assessment and revision. It’s work. The basics are simple; implementation is the issue.
Most people just don’t want to do that. That’s probably the biggest reason the diet industry is so successful.
What is your go to alcoholic beverage when you don’t want to stray too far from your diet? Do you limit it to, say, weekends only?
A Perfect Margarita!
Now that’s what I want to talk about! Booze! I love this question and yes, I am a Parrothead, so naturally, it’s an important, life-changing question, to boot! 😉
I only drink alcohol on the weekends or on vacation. Let’s face it — alcohol has calories, so I watch it. Too much alcohol makes me want to eat things I don’t normally eat. Plus, since I restrict carbs in my diet, it makes me a rather easy drunk. Shhh! Don’t tell anyone.
My go-to drink is a perfect margarita, Margaritaville style. Essentially, it’s the way margaritas were originally made before restaurants were sold margarita machines. Ice, tequila, perhaps a little triple sec (or if I really want to keep tabs on the sugar, I’ll sub out orange Mio), and lime juice. Stir. Drink. You can thank (or curse) me, later.
PS: do NOT use Jose Cuervo; use something good. You’re worth it, and so are your taste buds.
Otherwise, I like the occasional glass of (usually red) wine, dry. I tend to avoid sweet drinks, for the most part, since my tastes have adapted to cutting out sugar and they taste very sweet to me.
If anyone else has questions, I’ll be happy to answer them. Thanks!
Now, I’ve gone and done it — I’ve broken my own record!
Back in 2005, I finished a weight loss regimen with a 140.5-pound loss, and this week, I broke through it and stand at a 141.2-pound loss. This is now my most successful effort ever, and the moment it happened caught me by surprise because I hadn’t expected the loss that morning. I admit I hollered a joyous “I did it!”, with no one to share it with except for my erstwhile walking companion and garbage disposal, Bonnie (my schnauzer).
In that moment of revelation, I felt both excited and vindicated. I’ve hoped for this singular moment for the entirety of my loss but did not honestly believe I’d achieve it. Yet, here I am.
Yet, here I am.
141 pounds of catfish! Where are the hushpuppies?
It’s just one moment, though, with the acknowledgment that my journey isn’t over and the hard work still continues. Over recent weeks, I’ve had to adapt my methods again, working in more movement, adding steps to my daily walks, and I’m sure that has helped with recent losses.
The work continues. When my weight loss stopped in 2005, I certainly accomplished a lot before that point, but it wasn’t enough. I hit a plateau and because of my own inflexibility, that plateau lasted for a couple of years, until I started gaining again. I made efforts to maintain, didn’t do what was necessary, and I regained everything.
I couldn’t admit I needed to change what I was doing. I couldn’t possibly be wrong about my methods. That stubbornness cost me. So did the brutal ways in which I worked out; they weren’t appropriate for my circumstances, and I ended up injuring myself. I wasn’t able to sustain the amount of work I had previously been putting in, and it all slipped away.
I know there are those who doubted I’d be able to do this, again. Heck, I was one of them! But here I am, and I have to admit that I’ve gotten here with less pain and less fatigue than I did twelve years ago. I’m also much more comfortable in my own skin and not given over to obsessing about every single thing.
These days, my life is constant surprises. I keep doing things I didn’t think were possible. I keep moving forward and making advancements and changes. As I told a friend just this last week, I feel like I’m shedding years along with the weight; I feel younger, I can do so much more, and the changes continue to astound me. These are the rewards for working so hard. Every step I take is a joy.
Above all, I am dedicated to not making the same mistakes I’ve made so many times before. Instead of simply living in this one moment, I’m moving on to my next goal of 150 pounds down and keeping my head up.
I’m a stats girl. I like to see the progression of things, regardless of whether they’re spreadsheets, balance sheets, or weights and measurements.
I keep a desktop program to track my weight. When I start a new diet, I start a new file, and I’ve been working on the current one for nearly 3.5 years, so imagine my shock when I opened the program this morning and the wrong file opened. The file was from 2012, the last time I attempted to lose weight, and was labeled accordingly; in the history, there was also one from 2010. My current file started in 2013.
I panicked for a few seconds until I found the right file. Whew! I rested a lot easier, still a bit confounded that the one I’ve been using hadn’t automatically loaded, but then I opened the other two files to take a look out of curiosity. In 2010, I lost 51 pounds and then quit. In 2012, I lost 63 pounds, went on vacation, slid off the bandwagon, and regained all 63 pounds… plus about 35 more. In a little more than a year, no less.
This baby giraffe weighed in at 140 pounds at birth — and 5’10” tall.
After that, being able to record my all-time low for my 2013 file felt even more gratifying than normal. I’ve beat both those numbers combined — and not only that, but I’m on the verge of beating my all-time biggest number. I’ve been lucky enough to lose 140 pounds not just once — but twice; I knew I was beating the odds the first time, but twice? That’s likely pretty rare, and I mean to prevent the necessity of doing it a third time.
Rewinding a bit, I set out in 2013 not to break through that old number of 140.5 pounds (set in 2003-2005), but to get control of my eating and have one small thing I could feel better about. That’s all. I never held out any hope that I’d meet or exceed my old numbers, and believe me, I’m a competitive person at heart. I had no grand illusions that I’d do anything more than make an attempt to feel better. (On that note, though, I’m a mere half pound away from smashing that record! Hallelujah!)
I’ve written before that small increments add up, and I still firmly believe that; looking back at my current sheet, I have averaged .75 pounds loss per week. That’s far from an earth-shattering amount, and I personally know a ton of people who would be beyond frustrated to see such a slow loss on the scale.
I’m the proverbial tortoise; I’m sure there are plenty of folks who have needed to lose the kind of weight I have that have tried (and failed) several times during that 3.5 years, with losses and regains, but I’ve just kept plodding along. Those little losses have added up to more than I imagined possible.
In 2013, the difference between my weight and that 140.5 record was the equivalent of an entire adult human; now, it’s the equivalent of a small block of cheese.
I will gladly take the slow loss over the yoyo losses and gains; been there, done that. Even 140 pounds in, I still measure by tenths of a pound, rather than entire pounds; I am grateful for every ounce, every quarter of an inch, every time I notice my clothing is getting loose.
I’m not in a race, but chances are, I’m still going to win this by taking it slow and easy.
In the past, when I’ve intended to lose weight and have also claimed to have explored the mental processes as I lose, I failed.
I failed to continue losing weight. I failed at fixing the things in my brain that kept me where I was. I gave myself an out, and I took it — followed by regaining the weight. All of it. And more on top of it.
Because you see, I firmly believe that my weight is a symptom; a sign that my body has chosen to protect itself by layering on fat. But it’s not a protection, really, because enough layers will eventually kill me. Sure, I dream of wearing cute clothes as I continue to lose weight, but this is a fight for my life.
Give me calm waters and sunshine.
I’ve often referred to this process as a journey; in full disclosure, I really don’t like that term. This has been more than just traveling from one place to another; it has been a metamorphosis. It’s been a process of correction, rebuilding, learning, admission, change, and brutal self-examination. As I heal, I shed weight. I become healthier, both physically and mentally — and not every step of this is a pleasant process.
There have been times in my life where I have wallowed in the darker recesses of depression, unable to function. I’ve lived in fear of the smallest things. I’ve been frozen, knowing what I should be doing, but incapable of rousing myself to just get through a simple day, hour, moment. Those were the days where the demons ran rampant in my mind, and the darkest of thoughts were constantly lurking on the edges.
Depression is a dungeon that’s both a place of horror and of safety; enduring it is awful, but leaving it can be even more terrifying. Because I know that darkness, I have to remain on guard to keep those bridge trolls that would pull me under at bay.
Last week, something happened out of the blue that triggered stark memories of those desperate days. One moment, I was happy with my life as it was; the next, terrified by some past transgression and having to face it all over again.
I have fought hard to change myself, to evolve and remain steadfast against the mental anguish that I endured, and there are times that I can nearly pretend they were never there; that I never had to claw my way out of that dungeon. Rather than forget, I needed the reminder of what I had to do to get myself beyond that dark space, and that I can never truly assume the trolls have left that bridge.
It would be a mistake not to acknowledge that dark part of myself, as much as it would be a mistake to lose every ounce of weight, claim a goal, and then pretend as if I had never been obese. All of these things — the good, the bad, the ugly — are part of me; it’s up to me which part I feed and allow to grow. I am always capable of stumbling; all of us are.
This is the hardest work of the journey; it goes beyond simple matters like what I choose to put in my mouth, how much I move. It’s reaction, it’s change, it’s shining a light on those parts of myself that have tripped me in the past, and working on them so they never trip me, again.
Thanks to those of you who have been there to stand by me in the toughest of times; you have been part of my bridge over the troubled waters I have faced.
