My dear sweet dog Bonnie, a miniature schnauzer, is seven years old. She’s one of the sweetest, most trainable, and smartest pets I’ve ever had — and I’ve had a lot of pets over the years.
When she was a puppy, I restricted her from certain parts of the house with portable window screens; they are perhaps fifteen inches tall and expand to either side, and meant to use in windows that don’t have screens. I simply propped them at the bottom of doors; she could see through them, but she wasn’t capable of moving or jumping over them.
Not very long ago, I put one of the screens across a doorway; she’s an active adult that can jump like a gazelle, but she still won’t disturb the screen. She won’t jump over it, and she could quite easily push through it if she wanted. I assume she doesn’t, not just because she’s the world’s greatest miniature schnauzer (of course she is!), but because she’s been trained. Her mind has learned that she isn’t to go past that point.
There are other wonderful things she just will not do; she will not, for instance, get into an open dog food container, even if it’s on the floor in easy reach. She won’t jump up on dining room chairs and end up in the middle of the table. She won’t grab food and run — these are all things my previous dog did on many occasions.
Say! What a fine knee!
Long before sweet Bonnie came into our world, I was told I would need total knee replacement surgery. For years, my body and my mind have been trained in working a much narrower range of freedoms than I had before my knees revolted. In just a few weeks, I’m heading in to discuss my options with my orthopedic surgeon; after seeing my husband go through knee replacement surgery, I’ve seen how many of my fears are unfounded. I know, without a doubt, that I can make it through surgery and the tough early weeks of recovery.
What I’m not sure about is the process of overcoming the years of training my mind and body have gone through in accepting restrictions and limitations. I have actually dreamed of being young and surprised that my knees worked exactly like how they used to work; I remember one dream in particular where I ran. And it was no big deal. Running for the sheer joy of feeling my body move? That hasn’t happened since I was a teenager.
I no longer remember what it feels like to live without restrictions. Unlike my dog, I know I’ve been missing out on decades of things I haven’t been willing or able to do. Even a decade ago, when I lost a great deal of weight and was physically fit, I lived with chronic pain in my knees. I just dealt with it and worked through the pain, but there are still plenty of things I have not physically been able to do for a very long time. Simple things, like riding a bike, kneeling, climbing a ladder to get into a boat. If your knees don’t bend, those things — and many more — drift out of reach.
I have to admit that I’m both excited and a bit scared about retraining not only my legs but my brain, to move in ways they haven’t moved in decades. I know it won’t come all at once, but I am very much looking forward to a future with dancing, bike rides, and boat rides in it.
I’ve made the appointment. It’s time for the next stage of my life. C’mon, Fake Knees, take a chance on me!
In just a couple of weeks, I’ll celebrate my 4th anniversary of my journey back to health. Four years! I’ll have much to say when that day comes, I’m sure. This is absolutely the longest journey I’ve ever been on, health- and weight-wise.
It’s certainly long enough to see patterns develop, and one of them is that my weight loss tends to slow down or stop during the summer months. There’s quite a few reasons for this, and they all have to do with choices I make. Please note — that’s not blame; that’s accepting responsibility and knowledge of my own choices, and that’s a key mental difference from previous unsuccessful attempts to reclaim my health.
Not the best diet advice ever.
During the summer, my daily schedule completely changes. In part, this is because my husband (a teacher) is home, and my work schedule is historically lighter during those months. We do a fair amount of adventuring, whether it’s camping, day trips, or vacations. I’m human; I happen to like eating food. I like sharing good meals with friends and family. I like drinking alcohol, too. I will relax my normally strict eating during these times, with full knowledge of the consequences and a plan for recovery.
There’s something else at work, though, as well. While introversion gets thrown around a lot these days on the internet, and I’ve had friends laugh at me outright when I’ve said I’m an introvert, one of the toughest challenges I experience during the summer is a lack of time to recharge. I need a certain amount of time to myself, with no human interruptions, no obligations where I must interact.
Don’t get me wrong; I love people, I love being around them, learning about them, experiencing them. But it also drains my energy. If I go for too long without a break from people, I fray around the edges. I become short-tempered, frustrated, overwhelmed. And those are the times I’m honestly most likely to go off any diet I might be on. It’s this time of year that’s the toughest for me, although now that the school year has begun, I’m starting to recharge.
When I am overwhelmed, I am at my most vulnerable.
It’s a treacherous time, because I know myself well enough to admit that when I become too overwhelmed, I lose control, and the more control I lose over my schedule and surroundings, the more unhappy I become, and I freeze. I find myself unable to make the effort to accomplish much at all. And that includes taking command of my journey. So you see, just the mere fact that I’ve managed to stay on this journey, sometimes wavering and other times strongly pushing ahead, is a victory.
I’ve found that even when my life is chaos, being able to control at least one small element of my life makes it easier to fight against that chaos. No matter what else is going on, I can control what I put in my mouth. I can control how many steps I take during the day. I can control how much water I drink. While I might choose to relax these things somewhat during the summer, reclaiming my control over these things has become a fall tradition, and is very much where I am right now.
While I am more lenient with my health demands over the summer, I never completely let go. I still know where I stand at any given time. I never surprised at a gain on the scale or if my clothes fit more snug than I’d prefer. I know exactly what I did to get there, and I know exactly what to do to solve it. That sense of power keeps me on an even keel with other factors in my life, even when I feel like my mental and emotional batteries are drained.
So here I stand, knowing that these next few weeks will be a time of regaining command and pushing forward yet again. In control — it’s a good place to be.
Half the time, I don’t really ever want to admit that I belonged to the club that came before it, and I want to push that identity away, as if it never existed. The rest of the time, I struggle with understanding that I can’t simply divorce a big chunk of my life. I am the sum of my experiences, and I shouldn’t ignore the things that have changed me — both for bad and good.
I mention these “clubs”, because my current club is unique enough that not everyone can join; in fact, most can’t. There’s no secret handshake, no admission process, no fees to pay. The neat thing about this club, though, is that others in the club seek me out, and I do the same. We share an experience that’s not only unusual, but hard fought for — and quite often, we don’t share it with those who aren’t in the club.
Triple digits, baaaayyyybbbbeeee!
I’m talking about the Century Club — my own (not-so-original) moniker for the folks who have lost more than one hundred pounds. We are kindred spirits, no matter how we lost the weight. We are winning a war, no matter if we have more to lose. We live lives with chronic pain and other challenges either caused or complicated by our years spent in that other club; the one we fought to escape. That one has shaped us as much, or more than, membership in the Century Club.
Someone contacted me just last night; someone I casually know through a group on Facebook. The group has nothing to do with weight loss, but someone else in the group asked for photos of those who post, and I posted my profile pic. I keep a number in the corner of my pic; it’s my current loss. I do this for my own transparency, as a reminder to be mindful of my progress and journey. I explained the number, because many are curious.
That someone and I chatted privately; our total losses are only a pound apart, and we have similar amounts left to lose. We’re facing similar issues, especially pending knee replacement. We talked about the special things relevant to losing that much weight, as well as the joys; the things that those outside of the Century Club may find intriguing, but can never fully understand without experiencing them. It was common ground, and enthusiasm for the challenges to come.
Great weight loss isn’t just about seeing a lower number on the scale and fitting into smaller clothes. It’s about transformation, dedication, trial and error, mending old wounds — both physical and mental. We are warriors, and the victories are the bodies we are learning to live with and improve.
For my sisters in the Century Club (and brothers, too, although I mostly know the sisters!), this blog’s for you — congratulations for a job well done, and may your victories continue. You just never know when you’ll find another member.
I spend a lot of time assessing my body in its current form. Even though my physical changes are slow, I still remember the hindrances I dealt with not so long ago. I’ve become sensitive to its changes over time and evolution from that much larger girl I used to be.
I’ve also evolved on how I treat myself. For a long time, I made myself the promise to treat myself right, including keeping my hair and makeup looking nice, wearing clothes that fit and flatter, making sure that I felt good about myself when I walked out the door, regardless of the reason for heading out. I did that mostly because I know that many folks still cling to the idea that obese women are lazy, don’t care about themselves, and choose to (selfishly!) remain fat. While I know (and probably you know) that nothing could be further from the truth, I still did my best to avoid being tagged in such a way.
Sometimes physical evolution is a shock.
While I’m far from being a normal weight, I’ve become more confident — and perhaps a trifle headstrong — about perceptions of me. These days, it’s more important for me to like the reflection in the mirror than to worry much about someone else’s perception. I’ve become more relaxed with the world around me. If someone judges me because I’m not wearing mascara, will the world truly end? If someone thinks I’m flippant because I’ve put a red streak in my hair, will the economy collapse?
Some might consider it selfish, but I’ve come to a point in my life where I know who my friends and loved ones are, and we chose each other for the value we bring to each others’ lives, not for hairstyles, fashion sense, or so help me, that number on the scale. I’m not losing weight to please anyone other than myself; if it does please others, I hope it’s for the right reasons.
It’s also a big sign that my brain has caught up with my weight loss and that I have a more accurate mental idea of who I am in this moment, both physically and visually. Although I’m just a month away from marking four years on my journey and many would consider that an unbearably long time to focus on improving health through weight loss, I spent the majority of my adult life well over 300 pounds. It’s no surprise that my brain has taken this long to finally catch up — and perhaps it’s been for the best that the process has been a slow one. It’s no race, after all.
Being comfortable in my own skin and satisfied with my own physical lot in life is one of the biggest gifts I have ever given myself. While I’m not crossing the finish line yet, and may not for some time, my life isn’t on hold until that undefined point in the future. Not when there’s life to be lived right now.
For those interested in my progress, I’m finally shedding excess weight that I gained over a couple of weeks of inconsistent eating and exercise. I hope to be reporting new numbers soon!
If you’re wondering why my blog is late, today — it’s because I was out late last night, partying, and slept in this morning. How’s that for irresponsible? I’ve been maintaining for a while that I’ve been aging backward, so it only makes sense that I reach that party-girl stage at some point, right? 😉
Seriously, though… I was at a house concert. House concerts are marvelous things; traveling musicians will perform at a private home, and a small group of people will pay much-less-than-your-average-concert-ticket to hear them play, bringing their own food, drinks, and lawn chairs. It’s a really fun thing to do, and it’s just really catching on around here. It also gave me the opportunity to be responsible with my eating, although it can be a bit of a drag to drink my water when most everyone else is enjoying an adult beverage.
Not actual 70’s mannequins, but still not your average figure.
I mention all this because the group includes people I see roughly monthly. Some, I haven’t seen in several months, and one complimented me on my weight loss efforts. I thanked her — and that’s when things got weird.
I made awkward apologies for not currently being in loss mode.
Why the ever-lovin’ hell did I do that?! Why did I feel obligated to make amends for currently being up in weight? She wouldn’t have known the difference, and while I believe in being totally accountable, that doesn’t necessarily mean over-sharing details of my journey with people who simply gave me a compliment. Needless to say, I mentally kicked myself for that afterward, but it also means I have some mental work to do on that.
It bothers me to not be in losing mode. I have been mortified over the amount of weight I allowed myself to gain while out of town. But I also dedicated myself to getting the weight off and have worked hard in the interim to do exactly that. I’ve done a good job, even if I haven’t completely lost what I gained, yet. Obviously, there’s some part of my brain that thinks it’s not good enough if I feel the need to apologize for it.
This is something I still struggle with. I absolutely need and believe in accountability; knowing that people are following my weight loss is an incentive to keep me on the straight and narrow. But there also needs to be a balance — what I had was an emotional response, not a logical one, and while I know that I can’t entirely keep emotion out of what I do, emotion is also to blame for influencing me into beating myself up over things that don’t, in the long run, matter. Being emotional and unreasonable about weight loss is my number one reason for falling off diets.
I’m not in a race. I have no definite timeline that dictates I must be a certain weight on a certain date, even if my logical brain often tries to project when I’ll arrive at certain points. Summer is also my typical slow time for weight loss because we do a fair amount of camping and traveling, and I’m not always in full control of my food options. (And, honestly, I’m human and want the occasional break to kick back and relax.) Regardless of all of this, though, there’s some part of my brain that’s hardwired to believe that if I’m not moving forward, I’m sliding backward and deserve to be chastised for it.
Maybe it’s a throwback to when I was young and Walt (my father, an emotional abuser) pressured me to lose weight. He did it, even when I wasn’t much overweight. I recall, once, walking through a mall with my parents, and commenting on an outfit on a mannequin; he told me that if I could lose enough weight to look like the mannequin, he’d give me $100. (In the mid-70’s, that was a huge amount of money to offer a teenager!) In his eyes, I was fat and therefore not good enough. What possessed him to say such a thing, when I was just commenting on an outfit I liked? I was probably 16 or 17 at the time.
Imagine that. My brothers got paid for good grades. I had stellar grades but got no recognition at all for them. Instead, he offered to pay me if I could do the impossible: look like a mannequin. It was an absolutely ridiculous thing to say, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I actually attempted to do exactly that. You bet that I failed, but frankly, he was no small man, himself; his parents were hardly thin, either. I’m not of a slight build, and I’m short; I would have had to have been anemic to look like a mannequin in the 70’s. Is it any wonder I have built-in issues with not being considered good enough?
It’s easy to blame him for planting the seed, but as an adult, I own my responses and must make sure emotional responses don’t win.
At this point, I’m recognizing that guilt for what it is: an emotional response that needs to be dealt with so I can move on. I’m on the right track, and as long as I keep chugging on, I’ll get to my destination in my own good time.
Don’t worry. Every little thing is gonna be all right.
The last couple of weeks, I’ve done big stuff — like, really big — for me.
The weekend before last was a big party weekend with a club I’m in. It included camping. In the rain. In trying circumstances that aren’t usually an issue when camping, but I got through them. I’m also fairly close to being able to manage the camper myself; I just need to learn how to tow it and put down/take up stabilizing jacks. Everything else? I can do it, and not to be mean about it at all, but I’m also well aware that many of my perfectly fit friends wouldn’t attempt such a thing. 😛
Phun, phun, phun at the tailgate!
Last weekend my husband and I drove down to visit our daughter and her husband, but we also attended a Buffett tailgate and concert in Frisco, Texas. If you don’t know anything about Jimmy Buffett or the legendary tailgates associated with his concerts (which also included ZZ Top this time — BIG concert!), you haven’t experienced the ultimate in tailgates. It’s truly a wild and fun experience.
And A LOT of walking. For me, 5.87 miles worth, to be exact — which far exceeds any daily walk total I’ve had to this point. By the end of the day, both hubby and I were dragging; he also suffers from knee issues, so we basically raced back to our vehicle like tortoises, but we made it. My feet and knees needed some recovery time, but I survived it all, and it was worth the effort. This would have been absolutely unthinkable even six months ago.
The concert venue itself was on a soccer field with small folding chairs that have seen better days. 148 pounds ago, I would have freaked out if I’d seen the chairs, knowing without a doubt that they wouldn’t hold me — if I’d even made it down to the field at all, and not had a panic attack from how close everyone was. The more I weigh, the more I fear crowds generally and being boxed in particularly. I was anxious at first but managed to relax enough to have a great time with friends. (And huge thanks to those of you that assisted me — you know who you are, and I am indebted.)
These are positive experiences, but when I returned home and stepped on the scale, I had bad news waiting after nearly two weeks of being on the road and not eating and exercising the way I normally do. I’ve got some work to do to get back down to my low again — and surpass it — so I can claim that 150 pounds down.
When I gain weight, I tend to have to correct my thinking; just the pain in my knees after walking such a long distance last Saturday reminded me clearly of how my knees felt a couple of years ago. They’re better, now, but I have no desire to go backward in time.
This morning, I also saw a photo on Facebook, taken four years ago, of a great time I had with friends; taken when I was at or near my highest weight ever and had yet taken my first step on my current weight loss journey. It used to make me cringe to see such photos, and I’m sure I dreaded having my photo taken at that moment. These days, it’s merely an indicator of where I was at that point in my life. The issues that plagued me, then, are behind me as long as I keep pushing forward.
I find it strange that I can have two big weekends of success and then when my brain knows my weight, it erases that good for me and I start to worry. I suppose that’s positive, in a way, because I always need to be diligent about keeping my focus, but I have to remember that my future isn’t written, yet. I’m the writer. It’s entirely up to me to continue doing new and great things or to slide back to where I’ve been. I don’t have to repeat the trials I’ve been through in the
I don’t have to repeat the trials I’ve been through in the past, and I don’t have to accept that my future is already defined. The shape of my future (and my butt!) is up to me. I’m going to keep writing better chapters.
Sometimes, it’s not about weight loss. Sometimes, it’s about getting your head on straight and finding some equilibrium.
That’s what I’ve been facing for the last week or two. I’ve been doing well, finding a nice rhythm — when I hit a few roadblocks. They have little to do with weight loss directly; much more to do with the way I process challenges and threats to the things I value.
Wait, *what*?
One was a work situation that was beyond my control, and the cards went against me, at least for the time being. The other was a threat to something I really enjoy and just recently have added back into my life: music. Both were matters that were in the hands of other people, and I’m old enough to know (… most of the time) that I can’t control other people.
But I can certainly choose my reactions, no matter how trying they might be. That’s where these situations have needled their way into my brain space and, as a result, I’ve struggled to maintain in control of those things I can control. What I shove in my mouth, how much of it, and how much I move — those things are always within my control. Somewhere in my brain, I still have a bit of leftover wiring that short-circuits. Stressful situations have nothing at all to do with food, and I’m not *usually* a stress eater, but I have been this past week or two.
I hate it. I’ve known I’ve been doing it while I’ve been doing it, and done it anyway. It’s not that I’ve flown totally off the wagon and snorted cupcakes; no, the food I’ve been eating is perfectly legal under my food plan — just far too much of it. And you know what? Eating too much didn’t relieve the stress or really even make me feel any better — things I knew before I ever over-ate.
No, what really made a difference is thinking and digesting the situations at hand and how to handle them to my best advantage. Both are really still very much in the works, but after actually challenging myself and looking for solutions instead of dreading consequences, I am at least closer to finding some peace. And that’s what is most important.
When that balance is off — when I allow that balance to teeter and become lopsided— one of the side effects is that ever-widening ripple that affects much more than just the simple matter at hand. Getting in control of those situations quicker and not backing off solutions has to become more second nature for me; when I’m tired and busy, I let that guard down, and that’s when small ripples from pebbles turn into tidal waves.
Regaining balance takes constant attention and the desire to maintain it. These are lessons I apparently still need to learn. I need to shake it off and move forward instead of getting hung up.
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.
A couple of weekends ago, I dropped my husband off at a friend’s house and made my way over to another friend’s house to visit for a bit. They live several miles apart, and while I knew the way there from my house, that’s from a different direction. I suspected there was an easier way to get there, and my husband gave me a landmark along the way, so I pulled out my phone and plugged that location into my phone’s maps app.
I made it to that midpoint just fine but then decided to just look at the map and judge the rest of the way for myself. I was familiar with most of the roads and figured I’d recognize the landmarks to get me to my friend’s house once I was in her neighborhood.
What should I do with the fork, once I take it?
Oh, how wrong I was!
I suspected I was on the wrong course when I passed into another county, but thought maybe the road would turn back across the county line. It didn’t. I finally found a stopping point and put the right information into the mapping program, got on my way, and finally arrived at her house. I certainly didn’t save myself any time at all, but at least I got there!
Every once in a while, I go “off-map” and convince myself I’m on plan with my eating, even though I’m really not. I’ve done that recently. I tell myself I know the way perfectly well, and even though I see the signs that I’m veering off-course, I don’t turn myself around right away; I just keep going off-course and then have to make up more time in getting back on the right path.
The last week has been about finding my bearings and getting back on the right road. I didn’t stray too far from my path, but I really needed to pay more attention to the indicators that I’d made a wrong turn at some point, because it costs me time and effort to get back on track. Time and effort that could have been spent getting closer to my goals.
So here I am — back on track, hovering just above my low, and needing to remind myself that maps are made for a reason, whether they’re for finding my way to a friend’s house or finding my way back to where I need to be on my eating plan. I’m back to tracking everything I eat (I wasn’t being completely honest with myself), weighing daily (necessary for me, but not for everyone), drinking all the water I should be, getting enough sleep, meeting my step goals.
When I do everything necessary to get closer to my goals, I’ll move forward instead of feeling like I’m in a maze with no end.
