I haven’t lost weight in the last month or so — I’m still just above my low — but something different is going on.
I’m getting muscle tone back. The more I walk, the more confident I feel; the muscles in my legs and core are getting stronger. I am more sure-footed. And while I may not be losing weight, I’m losing inches; more clothes are going in the sell/donate pile, and I am right on the verge of dropping out of wearing plus-size clothing. Well — from the waist up, anyway, and a girl’s got to start somewhere!
No jumping to conclusions, people!
I really noticed this last week, when I took my mother to an annual appointment that happens to be in a small nearby hospital. I’ve had to cop out of walking in with her, before, because I felt the walk was too far for me. I felt absolutely horrible once because she fell in the hallway after leaving her appointment; she hit her head and ended up in the emergency room. I should have been there to keep her from falling.
This time, I walked back with her, and then she told me she forgot something in the car, so I trotted out to the parking lot and back, and then walked her to the appointment location, further in the hospital. She seemed a bit off-balance, but to me, the walk was no longer a big deal at all. My walking abilities used to be close to what she is, now, and she’s nearly 30 years my senior.
I joked with someone, recently, when they said they were growing old; I said I’m aging in reverse — I’m getting younger! Instead of my abilities leaving me, they’re coming back. Because I can go out and do more things, I find myself wanting to get out and do more things. And why not enjoy these new-to-me-once-again times?
Yesterday morning, I took my mother on a “field trip” to a local state park. She loves the outdoors even more than I do, and we had a great time; I packed a lunch, and we meandered around a bit. We sat lakeside and enjoyed the breeze on our faces, and I checked out a campsite we plan on camping at in the near future. Later yesterday evening, I wore a new top, and met my friends for dinner, wearing wedge heels that I bought last year but still felt too unstable to wear. I couldn’t walk down the hallway in them, then. Now? They’re comfy and easy!
This comes down to appreciating these changes; why sit inside on a beautiful day, if I don’t have to? Why merely choose to exist, when I can do so much more? At this point, my health starts to self-perpetuate: the more I do, the more I want to do, and nothing is going to stop me, now.
It’s Spring Break this week, and I’m writing my blog from a picnic table, my dog on a pillow by my feet, my husband rocking gently in a hammock in the sun. We’re at the lake, camping, and enjoying some exceptional spring weather, along with a snowstorm of yellow pollen from the pine trees around us.
Those aren’t my feet.
I love camping and the outdoors, and this has been one of the best gifts of losing weight — the ability to get out and do some of the things I thought might be completely lost to me.
Yesterday, we walked down a short trail, through the pine and blooming dogwoods behind our campsite, down across from the water’s edge. We’ve sat out in the sunshine, just enjoying the weather.
There’s also a bit of working to camping. We own a popup camper. The bottom is metal, but the top is mostly canvas and has to be erected/broken down at the beginning and end of camp. It takes some muscle and patience, including cranking up the top, pulling out the bed slides, pushing up the metal bracing, unpacking, and going about the business of setting up camp the way we like it. That includes erecting the connected awning and screen room, a free-standing canopy, the hammock my husband is now enjoying, tables, cooking gear, leveling, stabilizing, cooking, cleaning… you get the idea. It’s a vacation, but it’s also a bit of work.
Last year, when we bought the camper, it was almost entirely up to my husband to set it up; I stood back, took care of the dog, and waited until he gave me a task I was capable of doing. This year, I can crank up the top, pull out and anchor the slides, and more. It makes for quicker set up, breakdown, and hopefully, fewer cuss words.
The terrain itself can be a challenge. Last year, this campsite would have been too difficult for me to navigate, since it’s hilly and has steps from one section down to the next. This year, it’s not a problem, as long as I’m careful.
Bonus: I had to run to the store the other day for some needed camp supplies, and among them, a $3 belt to keep up the capris I thought fit.
Unlike most weeks, I’m leaving off the video; I’m in the woods and enjoying the warm breeze and the quiet, and I’d just rather not dig through YouTube to find something that applies. So, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go kick hubby out of the hammock and enjoy it, myself.
These days, I get constant reminders of just how far I’ve come since the beginning of this journey, and how much has changed in my day to day life.
Most of the squirrels in my back yard look like this, and I never feed them.
In September of 2013, my first month on this particular effort, I made notes about changes in my condition. Here are a few highlights:
My highest weight during the month was my starting weight of 371. My lowest weight during the month was 354.8 pounds, for a total loss of 16.2 pounds.
IBS symptoms are decreasing from daily occurrences to 1-2 times a week.
I feel as if I’m able to get up off my love seat without as much effort.
On the whole, I am sleeping better, with wakefulness in the wee hours of the morning only occurring 1-2 times a week, as opposed to being almost daily.
I still experience knee pain, back discomfort when standing, as well as pulling on lower back and upper thighs when standing; probably because my fat distribution causes me to stoop somewhat to counterbalance.
To help myself mentally, I chose 50 pound increments. I am 34 pounds away from the first goal.
I have a lot of support at the moment, and I hope this continues.
I am still anxious about being in situations where I must stand or walk. I am unsure of footing and fear falling.
I have to remember to be more patient with my current status instead of wanting everything right at this moment.
Accomplishments: I’m not sure what to include, here at this time, other than staying the course for the month. I achieved my goals of starting off right, which I think has helped me through some times of doubt. Instead of starting halfheartedly, I weighed, I measured, I took photos, I took video, I enlisted support.
My biggest challenge is mobility; standing, walking, endurance. These are structural as well as distribution issues; structural in that my knees are in bad shape (level 4 osteoarthritis). This will continue to improve as I lose weight.
Last night, I had a meeting in the downtown area in a larger city I live close to; just the simple act of finding a place to park and walking down the street to my destination, and then getting down the stairs, would have been close to impossible for me. These days, the only part of that journey that bothers me is the stairs; I can make it up and down them, but it takes me a while because of the condition of my knees. That will continue to improve.
I don’t wake up in pain every morning. Most days are pretty good, actually, and I no longer fear standing or walking. Standing for longer amounts of time, especially on concrete, still bothers me — but not like it did, before. As for walking? I’ve been making the effort to increase my walking, bit by bit, and now, shopping or walking in downtown areas doesn’t bother me. In fact, I rather enjoy strolling through my neighborhood on a daily basis. My goal is 10K steps a day; I’m currently at 3750, and add a little more each week.
I still fear falling, but my gait is strong and getting stronger.
It’s a heck of a lot easier to find clothes that fit, and they don’t all look like they were made for dowdy old women. I have a waist, again, and by golly, I’m discovering I have shoulder blades!
Heels! Granted, I don’t wear ankle breakers, but I can get around in moderate heels. This was impossible except for the very shortest of walks back then. I’ve got a pair of wedge sandals that I bought last year, and I’m looking forward to wearing them this year.
We’re going camping in a few days, and I know things will be a lot easier for me, even compared to just last summer, especially since I’m setting daily step goals and routinely achieving them.
I breathe easier and better. IBS issues all but disappeared in my second month and rarely reappear.
I still set my ticker goals in 50 pound increments. In just 6 pounds, I get to reset it for a goal of 200 pounds lost. Incredible!
While I still experience knee pain, it’s a lot more manageable and isn’t debilitating; before, it was a handicapping condition. While I still don’t walk with as much freedom as other people my size and age, I’m much more in the normal range instead of needing reassurance that I’ll have places to take rests and relieve knee pain if I need to go anywhere.
I still have tons of support — thank you!
I can still be impatient, but I’ve learned so much over the last 3 1/2 years about the importance of getting my head straight. A prime example: I’ve had a really good recent run of weight loss, reporting losses every week for probably 5-6 weeks, but not this week. Before, I would have been bothered by it but unwilling to look at the reasons that might happen. This time, I understand; I ate too much this week, plain and simple, and sometimes my body isn’t in losing mode for reasons that don’t always make sense, so I take those times, do the best I can, and move on.
I’ve given myself another chance at living instead of just existing, and I’m enjoying the heck out of it. This is the biggest and best gift I could have ever given myself, and it’s not just my shape that’s changing.
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.
Weight loss update: I lost .4 pounds this week, but it’s not enough to change my ticker. Still — every ounce makes a difference; it’s the cumulative effort of small steps.
_______________________________
I met a young woman, yesterday, who was going through tough times. I was in a situation where I had no choice but to share my space with her, and she unloaded her life’s troubles on me. (Honestly, I must just have one of those faces where people feel comfortable telling me their life stories. This happens more than I care to admit. Perhaps I missed my calling as a psychiatrist.)
She is probably around my own daughter’s age — later 20’s — with two small children; one who is profoundly handicapped, and she doesn’t know who the father is. The other has a father but he and his family rarely participate in her life and they shun her. She had the expectation that they would include her in their family and they would love their oldest grandson, but this hasn’t been the case.
It’s not what happens to you — it’s how you choose to react. Bravo, seal!
Of her own family, her uncle has been in jail. Her mother didn’t want children, she says, and she feels no love. Her father died when she was 10 and her stepfather has always mistreated her. Her grandmother gives her some respite, but she has led a life of living on public assistance, being bounced from one place to the next, even being beaten by her son’s father, recently. What little she has, has been stolen.
As I listened to her, one thing became crystal clear: she sees herself as a victim with no control, prone to the things that happen to her, and none of them are good. I did not offer her advice — it wasn’t my place to do that, and the few words I said merely brought on more tales of woe.
I do feel bad for her and any other person who finds themselves in a similar situation, where they feel powerless over their own lives. And sure, you could easily say that she caused her own predicament by the choices she’s made.
The inability to accept responsibility for your lot in life is hardly rare, and it’s certainly not limited to poor single mothers. I’ve heard denials of life’s circumstances from people who live otherwise enviable lives. That inability is, unfortunately, part of the human condition and far from rare; it strikes people regardless of income, career choice, faith.
One of the reasons I believe that I’ve been successful on this weight loss journey is because one of the first things I did was take full responsibility for my situation. I used to blame my obesity on genetics; my paternal grandmother was a large woman, and my father tended toward the heavy side. Then I blamed it on circumstances; I deal with thyroid issues, as well as blood sugar issues.
Without sharing my laundry list of previous excuses, I took responsibility for them all. Taking responsibility is not a process of flogging myself for implied bad behavior and punishing myself. So many people see it that way — or that it lets someone who has done us harm off the hook for hurting us.
Taking responsibility involves two key process, the first of which is an acceptance of where you are right now. It’s both painful and powerful to know your starting weight on a diet; painful because you have to admit where you are, at this moment, and powerful because you have a starting point, and you will appreciate that information, later. With that acceptance of where you are, whether it’s weight or other factors in your life, brings an awareness that you possess the potential for change.
The second is internalizing the reasons why you are in the place you are in. When you actively work to pinpoint those reasons, you can look for ways to change your course. I may fight genetics, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do the best I can to counter them. I may suffer from medical issues, but I live in a time where I have resources to help me balance my body’s chemical imbalances. Accepting these things (and many others) have given me a path to change the outcome, which is within my power. After all, bad genetics didn’t make me eat too much pizza, and thyroid issues didn’t force me to eat that second (or third) cupcake. I did that.
I may not be able to change the things that got me to where I am at this point in my life, but I can choose my reactions. That’s a place of power and strength. The more I react positively to the bad things that happen, the less bad they seem, and the more progress I make.
If I were to pick the one difference between the young woman I met yesterday and myself, that would be it. I could have easily ended up in her shoes when I was young, tossed about by bad circumstances and feeling powerless to change, stuck in a life I didn’t want but hopeless to change it. But I found the courage to change my course before it swayed too far out of control. Looking back, I am constantly amazed that I found the strength to do that as a young woman, and that seedling that pushes me to keep reinventing myself as a master of my circumstances is still there. The more I use that ability, the stronger I become.
I’m well aware not everyone has that — or perhaps they do, and they don’t know how to ignite the fire needed to make abrupt and powerful changes; that’s something each person must find on their own. Change is always possible, but we have to be willing to try.
Celebrate with me, my friends! I’ve lost 4 pounds this week, setting my new loss at 137.4 pounds down. I haven’t lost that much in one week in the better part of a year!
If you had asked me 3+ years ago how much weight I hoped to lose, I would have tried to stay positive and say “all of it — every last ounce of 200 pounds”. But I didn’t believe it. Not really.
I have failed so many times at achieving even the smallest amount of weight loss that I had very little faith in myself. That’s despite already knowing that I was once capable of losing 140.5 pounds, something very few people are able to achieve. I reasoned that if I did that once, I could do it, again, but it was lip service.
Oso the German Shepherd weighs in at 137 pounds. Who’s a goooood boy?
Truthfully, I faked it until I felt it; I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm until I had a few small victories and started regaining the faith in myself to succeed. Until I started feeling better. Looking back at my first pics now, I realize exactly how bad I felt, both physically and mentally. I looked miserable, and I felt just as miserable as I looked.
No, I haven’t lost 200 pounds, yet, but with each passing day, that possibility seems more real. Here I sit, on the brink of matching the huge weight loss I had several years back… and passing it by. In just a few measly pounds (3.1! Less than I lost this past week!), I’ll be in new territory; I will have lost the most weight I’ve ever lost. Many people never achieve big weight loss once; I’ve done it twice. And this will not be “three times a charm”; twice is plenty enough, thanks!
It’s a strange mental place to be in. I clearly remember hitting that first 140.5 mark — it was in 2005, I think. I even took a photo of the scales that morning. I was absolutely torturing myself to reach that mark; I was consumed with the idea of losing weight. I worked out a couple hours a day. My meals were regimented. I was totally obsessed with breaking through… and then I hit a two-year plateau. I managed to hover about twenty pounds above my low, but then just finally gave up.
This is what I meant when I recently wrote about programs which are sustainable in the long run. It’s also the reason that I believe I will succeed now, more so than any effort I’ve made, before.
This time, I’m not obsessed. Yes, I’m aware of what I put into my body, and I’m careful about it; but not to the point of being rigid and inflexible. Not to the point of not being able to forgive myself for the occasional deviation. I’m not working out a couple hours a day; in fact, I’ve been walking around my yard and up and down my street for about a month, now, and I’m up to 3,000 steps a day — a far cry from the workout fiend I was, back then.
Against everything any diet guru would tell you, I’m getting similar loss results. Yes, it took a lot longer, but my health conditions are a bit more complicated than they were more than a decade ago. I’ve focused on correcting what’s imbalanced with my body instead of beating myself up. I also no longer live in fear of temptation or falling off the wagon on a grand scale, because my methods are habit now, and when I actually crave something, I address it. I’ll wait for a day when I plan on higher carbs and calories, have my treat, and move on.
My body has had more time to accept and settle into each decrease in weight. I’ve come to believe that our bodies naturally fight against loss as a threat to our systems, so the natural response to fast loss is fast gain. While my loss seems to crawl on at a snail’s pace, my body seems to more easily adjust to these gradual changes. My brain, too.
I say it’s a strange mental place to be because on occasion, I feel like I’m still sitting at 371 pounds; not because I feel bad or ponderous, but because I feel like I haven’t put a superhuman amount of effort into accomplishing this feat. It no longer feels like work; it just feels like life. Everything in my brain tells me I should still be at that starting weight, because I haven’t flogged myself, I haven’t punished myself, I haven’t obsessed to the point of excluding large chunks of my life in the name of micromanaging my health.
Being this far into my loss doesn’t seem real at moments like this, because it’s been so much easier than it ever has, before. Perhaps that’s a big sign that I’m finally doing things right, and these changes are permanent. I honestly wish I’d found this ability, before — this me that I am, right now. Yes, what I’ve done has still been hard work, in the same way that careers are hard work, but when the rewards are great, the perspective is different.
I know there’s a lot of people out there who would love to be in my spot — there was a point when I would have said, ‘me, too!’ I truly appreciate that I’m standing here today with this good fortune, and I wish the same for anyone who hopes to achieve this, and more.
A quick weight update: I’m very close to being in new territory. Stay tuned!
Right smack between Christmas and New Year’s Day, the unexpected happened.
On the way to shop at a Walmart in the town where he works, my husband collided with a commercial van that was attempting to cross traffic in a busy location. He had no time to stop; and in that split second, a world of things changed.
Surprise Possum in downtown Fort Smith, Arkansas
While he was fortunate to walk away from the accident, he’s been dealing with some physical repercussions and working through them. Our SUV, however, was a total loss — and worse, the claims management company for the major corporation has been troublesome. Just about everything that could go wrong, did; almost a month later, we are still working on being compensated for our losses, and just managed to replace our vehicle this week.
Just when I was counting on a quiet day or two after seemingly nonstop paperwork and research, my dog developed a health problem. An expensive trip to the vet for emergency surgery and a dopey dog in recovery sucked that hope for a quiet day right down the drain.
I’m sure you’ve had your trials and tribulations over the past weeks, too. Maybe things haven’t been all that perfect.
But we have to expect the unexpected — and we have to remember one thing: when we face these changes, we will come out the other side. Perhaps changed in some way, but we will survive.
The last few weeks have been pretty stressful around here. Who expects to get in a car accident? Who expects their dog, their child, themselves to get sick? Who knows what trouble awaits right around the corner? Not many of us, but few of us escape the challenges of everyday life, whether they’re something small or something a bit more earth-shattering. While fearing them is natural, fearing them to the point of holding ourselves back hurts no one but us.
One of the more valuable lessons I’ve learned while losing weight has been a better ability to deal with the unexpected. I don’t freak out if I can’t eat the way I prefer. I have stopped punishing myself for the occasional transgression. I have ceased reacting to a small deviation by thinking screw it, eat all the things! I have had to learn infinite patience because the ways of my body are not always predictable. I have to stay the course, regardless of what’s going on in my head.
In the course of daily life, stuff happens. Days are rarely perfect; we can only attempt to make them as close as possible and hope that the cumulative effect is good. Being at peace with not only working through the occasional bump in the road but the acceptance that this process is not a race has had a calming effect. Because I know, when I look back at times like these past few weeks from the vantage point of passing time, it’ll look more like a hiccup than a Heimlich maneuver.
The good at the end of this is that my husband continues to survive, we’re back on the road to normalcy, and my favorite dog in the whole world is back to being a happy girl, again.
And me? The more I deal with the surprises life hands me, the more I surprise myself.
In the past, I’ve been one of those people that goes all in when trying something new. I’d be crazy about whatever it was for a while, and then burn out on it. One day, I’d just be done with whatever I had previously thrown so much effort into, before.
Consequently, I have a graveyard of stuff I was once enthusiastic about, and then at some point, decided against it. I have a Food Saver and some of the supplies; I swear, I was absolutely crazy about sucking all the air out of packets of whatever food I was going to throw in the freezer, just knowing that months down the road, I’d be thankful I cared about prepping that food properly… only to throw out the stuff that made its way to the bottom of the deep freezer a couple of years later.
And then, perhaps, a buss.
And the diets? Oh, dear. I remember counting Weight Watchers points with my mother as a teenager, and mixing crushed pineapple with Alba (a chocolate weight loss drink) and then freezing it as a treat. I remember some wild diet that involved eating can after can of tuna, and then dropping off of it when the friend who suggested it said it made both she and her husband sick. There have been any number of programs I’ve tried over the decades, and still, I had to start over at my absolute heaviest weight in the fall of 2013.
Did those diets fail? No, I did — I failed to stick with them, find the right thing for me, commit myself to a change in lifestyle. I failed because those things I chose weren’t sustainable in the long run. Many of the things I did were more like punishment than changes in lifestyle, as if I deserved to suffer because I had gained weight.
When it feels like punishment, that wall that stands between myself and success might as well be the Great Wall of China.
Now I’m on course for adding exercise back into my daily life — literally, one step at a time. I enjoy walking, especially outdoors. Instead of thinking of it as exercise and something I must do, I’m feeling really good about walking. It wasn’t that long ago, after all, that a simple trip to retrieve my mail from my box at the street meant grabbing my cane and wincing with every step.
I’m adding to my step goals gradually; a little more every week, but even this early on, I can tell a difference. I’ve lost enough weight that the amount of time I can be on my feet before my knee pain bothers me is longer, and that ratio will hopefully continue to improve; the more weight I lose, the more steps I can take.
Perhaps it’s perspective that keeps me happier while walking. After all, I very clearly remember how much my daily routine has been changed by dealing with chronic knee pain. I know how often I feared going anywhere that was unknown because I felt my limited ability to walk governed my activities.
Being able to walk with less pain is a gift to be treasured, appreciated, and maintained. There’s a spring in my step that hasn’t been there in a long time — and I’m looking forward to improving. There are no more drastic changes the burn bright and then fizzle out. I’ve traded them in for incremental changes that I can live with.
