You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Sep11

“But if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need.”

Come here, skinny people!

And this week, that means learning a bit of patience when what you expect doesn’t happen.

I’m so close to my next goal — so close! — so when the three-day holiday weekend hit and I didn’t eat as cleanly as I have been, I paid for it — and I regret it. If I’m going to nudge outside my normal boundaries, the food should be high quality and worth it; it wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, and the worst part? I paid for it on the scales with a 3.4 pound gain. I have yet to lose about two pounds of it, because it wants to hang on for dear life this week.

My body’s been quite good to me, lately, losing easier than it has in some time, so I (mistakenly) thought it would come off easily. While I have some of it off to this point, it’s not all gone, and yes, I’m irritated. By the numbers, it should be coming off, because I know it’s water; I track everything that goes into my mouth and the math equaling a gain of this nature just isn’t there. Scientifically speaking, I know that. I overate, but not by that much — perhaps 200 calories on one day, and 100 calories on the other two.

If 300 calories of overeating now equals over three pounds of gain, we’re all screwed, friends. Watch out for Thanksgiving! 😉

I’m kidding, of course, but I have been frustrated and doubtful this week, which is absolute silliness. For the past couple of months, I’ve been used to seeing routine losses on the scales; when my daughter got married, I saw an expected gain, and it was off quickly. But these couple of pounds are being stubborn, and all sorts of stupid thoughts have been knocking around my brain, including that little voice that sneaks in from nowhere and starts whispering failure! FAILURE!

How utterly and overly dramatic. It’s a good reminder to me that despite recent successes, I am not past the head-games; I’m fully in them, despite being strong. Making ugly faces at the scale when it’s not being cooperative is something we all probably do, but letting that veer me off-course with negative self-talk is just asking for trouble. I suddenly wanted to adjust what I was doing, and it’s far too early for that.

This is especially true, because I have a lot of indicators of success at my disposal, of which the scale is just one, and all of those other indicators, without fail, are telling me the opposite: I’m doing well, and I should keep doing what I’m doing.

(A minor brag: now that it’s coming on to cooler weather, I have on a pair of jeans I last wore last spring, and they were tight-but-wearable. Still, I feared that infamous People Of Walmart Bubble Butt Syndrome; I was constantly making sure I wasn’t showing plumber’s butt. Today? They fit perfectly and I don’t have to worry about traumatizing anyone. Win!)

Being impatient is at the root of a lot of unreasonable diet behavior, including giving up, and I won’t have it. I’ll continue to watch the scale for a couple of weeks, and only then, once I’ve reviewed the data I collect each and every day, I’ll determine a course of action if it’s necessary. Changing things that have been working for several months because I have one week that isn’t perfect is absolute nonsense.

My overreaction is getting outvoted by patience and persistence, and maybe I’ll break through my next goal next week. Regardless, I know I will sometime in the near future, and until then, I’m dedicated to keeping up the good fight.

 

The Way We Were

Sep4

Or, more exactly, the way I was; two years ago, yesterday, to be exact. That day was the last first day of diets for me. That’s right: although I’ve had some valleys and some mountains, I’ve been at this effort for two years. Hard to believe!

Obie the obese dachsund weighed in at 70 pounds, poor thing. Good news, though! He’s lost a LOT of weight! http://www.obiedog.com/

And to make it even better, I’ve now lost 70 pounds.

Looking back — at the way I was — there are big differences. Most people wouldn’t physically see a difference unless they looked at photos; it’s been a slow loss, and in my experience, it takes a fairly fast loss, or a long time since seeing someone, for anyone to truly notice. The lesson, to me, is that I can tell the difference, and that’s where it counts.

Two years ago, I weighed 371 pounds. I know that will likely come as a shock to those who have just recently come to read this blog, but that’s the starting number. That’s a great weight… if you’re ten feet tall, but on my 5’2” frame? Not so much. Years of being morbidly obese have taken their toll on my frame, most noticeably my knees; both knees have level 4 arthritis on all surfaces, but my right knee is now locking and going out of alignment. Chronic pain was, and still is, very much part of my life. I walk with a cane. I wear a leg brace (when it fits). For long walking, my husband pushes me in a travel chair.

These are difficult realities of my existence, and not easy in the least to put out there in such a public way, but that was my commitment two years ago: to be accountable. Although I’ve struggled and nearly given up a couple of times, I haven’t. I’ve watched my weight drift up despite doing what I thought was necessary to bring it down. I’ve done great things; and I’ve guiltily dragged myself in here to admit that I’ve thought about giving in, but at no point have I just totally given up the fight.

And thank God. Today, I stand here 70 pounds less than I did two years ago, and believe me, that’s much better than the alternative. Quitting does nothing. I have taken over 70 pounds off of my knees, and while I still have good days and bad ones, I find the bad ones aren’t as severe as they once were, and the good ones are more common.

People usually ask if I feel better — of course I do! While I’m not doing handsprings just yet, life is getting easier for me. I am in control. I have hope. Two years ago, I felt depression settling in, which is not an uncommon thing, for me — or probably anyone else who is morbidly obese. But even when I feel totally out of control of everything else, the one thing I know I can do is control what I choose to eat and drink. Sometimes, those smallest victories are what keep us sane; I was thankful for this when my oldest brother died earlier this year, and I was the target of unexpected family drama. When days like that hit you, being able to cling to the things that keep our heads above water is tantamount.

It’s not about willpower; it’s about choice. Every single day, I wake up with the choice to stack up one more day, one more tick in the Good column, and as the number of days that stack up in the Good column accumulate into weeks, months, and years, it becomes even more difficult to forsake that.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that there aren’t some days where I wake up and want to drive to the nearest IHOP and order sixteen Belgian waffles with sprinkles and whatever else they dump on there, and then take a face-dive in them, but I don’t. And each day, whether it shows on the scale or not, a little bit of that stored energy (that’s “fat”, people!) leaves my body and goes wherever fat goes when it gets exorcised. Personally, I don’t care, as long as it doesn’t come back to me. And as long as I keep up the good fight, it won’t.

Two years down the road, who knows where I’ll be, then? Hopefully, I’ll be reporting in about how great the journey still is, and how far I’ve come.

On my first blog (find it here), I ended with this, which has never been truer than it is, today, two years later:
It’s not who I am, today; it’s who I am tomorrow that will make the difference.

 

Redemption Song

Aug28

“None but ourselves can free our minds” — Bob Marley’s song “Redemption Song” is in the back of my mind, this week; a song of freedom, and I truly believe that’s where I’m at, in this moment… as well as being down yet another 4.2 pounds this week.

67 pound catfish — that’s a lot of dinners, right there!

It’s been another amazing week for weight loss; the kind of week where I wake up excited every morning, ready to jump on the scale and knowing I’m going to see a loss of some kind. I don’t always have days like this, but when they happen, it reinforces my belief that I have finally found the right combination for losing weight at this point in my journey.

The reality is that at some point, my body will likely adapt and I will not see these kinds of losses; this is the nature of weight loss, unfortunately. Our bodies are designed to adapt, so when there’s a great amount of weight to be lost, it can result in periods of frustration, trial, experiments, more frustration, plateaus, rises in weight, but persistence and a willingness to be a scientist on your own behalf is necessary to break through all this to the next stretch of loss.

I am there. I feel redeemed (and hence the song) — quite often, when I’m guessing and trying to change things, that small voice that dooms me to failure likes to whisper in my ear and tell me that I’m bound to fail again, bound to live fat and die fatter. And while that voice is always present, and I’d do well to remember that, it’s subdued right now. I’m going strong.

That mental change and boost helps immensely. Yes, seeing a lower number on the scale gives me a mental boost that tells me what I’m doing is paying off, but inevitably, it’s a number. It’s a tool that helps us gauge success, but it’s not the end-all, be-all of measurement. It’s everyday life that’s the ultimate reflection of success.

It’s sitting in a movie theater seat, like I did on Wednesday, and realizing that not only did I not have to uncomfortably squeeze my large butt into the seat (and suffer through two hours with the seat pinching me), but I actually had a little room for comfort. It’s realizing that my ankles are starting to look more like normal people’s ankles. It’s the small things, friends.

It’s also about finally reaching a weight where the difference between clothing sizes doesn’t take as large a span of weight to move between them. For small sizes (let’s say sizes 10 and under), it takes but a few pounds to move between sizes; my thin friends notice their clothes fitting tightly with as little as a five pound gain. In larger plus sizes, it takes much more to move between sizes — sometimes in the neighborhood of forty to fifty pounds, depending on the clothing item — and for each size down, it takes less weight to reach the lower size.

As I’m losing more rapidly, I’m finding that the clothes I’ve lived the summer in are getting to a point where they’re uncomfortable to wear because they’re baggy. I’m not about to worry about them because the summer is almost over, except for swim suits; I don’t care for wardrobe malfunctions. I’ll leave those to Janet Jackson and Nikki Minaj.

My head is firmly in the right place, and at this moment, I feel indestructible. It’s a revolution, friends, and I’m winning.

 

Shut Up and Dance!

Aug21

Friends, I am down another pound — and the ticker is updated to 63.2 pounds lost! This has special significance, too — more about that in a bit! Yep, I’m doing a happy dance!

Bucky the Wonder Goat weighs 63 pounds!

I freely admit that I love warm weather, and detest the cold — but there’s just something about the first cool hint of fall that invigorates me. Perhaps it’s the beginning of the school year, and all the old memories it brings; as the wife of a teacher, I’m caught in a constant repeat of school cycles, and quite often, it’s the best of my own days that revisit. I also take in the slant of the sun that hints at the golden days of fall yet to come, lower humidity, open windows, a hint of chill in the morning.

Sooner or later, this sort of weather stirs up a desire to set things to order. Yesterday was just such a day, and I’ve been digging through my archive of clothing.

I have several levels of archives. I keep one drawer in my bedroom that has clothes that are just a little bit small, in hopes that I can fit into them and rotate those clothes into regular use — and, by extension, get rid of some things that are too big. Yesterday, I did exactly that, thanks in part to pulling a pair of jeans out of a drawer, because it was cool outside and I had an errand to run. (I live in a warm climate and I work from home; I haven’t had on a pair of jeans since spring.)

My “goal drawer” had four pairs of capris in it; three pair that I’ve worn when I’ve been smaller, and a pair I bought last year. I’m sure I’m not alone in this; I bought the pair by size, and by all rights, they should have fit. I’m not sure whether it was my desire to fit in them or my lack of desire to deal with a return that made me keep them; this happens more often than I care to discuss. I bought them because they were a great bargain; well, if I never actually wear them, are they really a bargain?

Today, though, they fit. They’re a bargain, again. 😉 Not only that, but three out of four pair fit. Perfect for fall weather! This also means that I’m going to move out some things that are too large, and I will get them out of my house — I will not allow for the possibility that I’ll gain this weight back, yet again, and need them.

My goal drawer barely has anything in it, now, so it’s time to dive back into the clothes archives and look for a few things that are just a bit snug. (I’m sure I have plenty to choose from.)

It’s also with some pride that I’ve realized I’m approaching a milestone; like many people who have lost a lot of weight over the course of their lifetimes, I have numbers I keep in mind that I want to beat. My biggest number to beat is 140.5, which I accomplished over a decade ago now, but second to that was my most recent loss before this one, and documented on this blog.

I’ve had it in my mind forever that I lost 70 pounds during that effort — but going back to my numbers, I see that I actually lost 63 pounds, total.

63! Now, why does that number seem so familiar? 😉

Surpassing this number will mark this weight loss effort as my second most successful effort, and considering that I had a relatively easy time of it the first go-round, until I hit the plateau to end all plateaus, is monumental. I’ve faced a lot of roadblocks that didn’t exist during that big loss; age being the most obvious, followed by knee problems that have limited my ability to exercise, menopause, hormonal imbalances.

As I pass that 63 mark, I realize I’ve learned some lessons since that last round of weight loss. I ended that weight loss by going on vacation and becoming thoroughly disgusted with myself, giving up the effort, and not only regaining all of my weight — but more on top of it. I believe I’m stronger than that, now, and while I still get frustrated and want to give up, I also know the harsh reality is that giving up just hurts me more.

I have a few more milestones to pass in the next few pounds, and I’m looking forward to sweeping right on by them. Because, at some point, I’m going to open that goal drawer and there will be no more clothes left to take out.

 

 

Don’t Worry – Be Happy

Aug14

After last week’s victory, this past week has been a celebration — and an exercise in learning to live with a new body. There has been no additional weight loss for the first time since I restarted after vacation, but I also expected this.

If only we could choose exactly where the weight comes off…

I wrote a few weeks ago about the trials of returning to my chosen diet after returning from vacation; I think vacations are one of the biggest diet busters there is, followed closely by special occasions, and I’ve had two this past week.

Last Saturday, my daughter (and only child) was married; certainly a celebration was in store, especially with a sit-down dinner at a great restaurant. Not only had I already planned to allow for a “cheat meal”, since it would have been difficult to manage special dietary needs under the circumstances, but I even allowed for cake. Cake!

Remember how I wanted to smash my face into cupcake frosting a few weeks ago? One of the reasons I managed to live through that experience was because I knew I’d have some cake at this one. I also allowed for a few drinks.

Then, the plan was to return to my diet the next morning.

But that’s not what happened. Nope.

On the day of the wedding, I went with my daughter to have her hair done, and then lunch. I ended up choosing to cheat a little bit at lunch; not a major cheat.

The wedding meal was pretty darned good, and I chose my cheat meal wisely, because not only do I firmly believe that if you’re going to go off plan, the food should be worth it, but that going off plan should still be an exercise in discipline, and in knowing what you’re putting into your body. And the meal was well worth it.

The cake was… not worth it. (Apologies to my daughter.) I ate the frosting and a bite of the cake, and decided that it broke my cheat rule: don’t waste carbs and calories on things that don’t taste good. So I didn’t eat the whole piece. Instead, I ended up feasting on a wonderful soft pretzel at a bar after the wedding. Now, that? Heaven! But still off plan.

The next morning? Breakfast at the hotel restaurant, and the available options weren’t conducive at all to my diet plan. I made yet another concession — and this one was probably the worst concession: no choice but bad food, and I was hungry.

Now, you’d think all this would be quite enough, right?

Nope.

On Monday, I went to see one of my best friends; she spent a few days in a cabin and invited me to come along for a night. I made the mistake of not really planning out food, but my wonderful friend did. We ate quite nicely, and I appreciate her generosity; the food was tasty — but not entirely on plan, once again.

This all finally ended Tuesday, when I went home, and I was back on plan on Wednesday morning.

What started as a plan to have one cheat meal ended up as four days of off plan eating. This naturally made me put on a few pounds, and most of that has come off, again. The last pound and a half will likely be gone again by this time next week. And I’m okay with that — I’m not beating myself up over it.

Because, especially when you’re dieting for years, there are times you have to step back and choose to put things in perspective. Yes, I could have prepared for all of these dietary infractions by carrying my own selections of food, and there have been circumstances when I’ve done exactly that; I firmly believe in the “failing to prepare is preparing to fail” credo.

But I also think there are times where you have to embrace learning experiences and make choices from what’s available without going overboard, and I believe I did that this week, for the most part. I knew I’d pay a price with that pretzel and beer, but I was willing to accept that in the grand scheme of things, it’s a bump in the road of my journey, not a sinkhole, and dealing with the occasional bump keeps you awake.

Not obsessing about food intake made the experience at my daughter’s wedding event, and time spent with my good friend, much more relaxing — and sometimes that’s the necessary choice.

 

Celebrate Good Times!

Aug7

Celebrate with me, now: this day is many months in coming. I’m now 62.2 pounds down!

I’ve lost a 62 pound Griffon!

My last low on the scale was in November of 2014; and I have finally not only exceeded that low… but hit a new ‘decade’. And I am thrilled to death! Not only did I beat my previous low, I jumped right over it with an incredible 5.4 pound loss this week, which is unprecedented.

On Facebook, you should be seeing my shiny new profile pic, and that’s a very long time in coming — the old one was a year old with just the loss number updated.

I believe I’ve already mentioned this, but before I headed off to vacation, my hope for success was running pretty low, although I’d done a fair amount of analysis and had a pretty good idea where the trouble was.

The thing is, there have been literally dozens of times where I thought I’d found that missing piece, so I wasn’t in a real hurry to find more windmills to tilt at. I relaxed on vacation (despite illness) and came back, went through the photos, and figured I should jump on my own personal Rocinante, and tilt at just one more.

I came back from vacation and started, again, around June 22, at 23.4 pounds above my low of 58.4 pounds down. I felt absolutely miserable about it, but decided to try a change in hopes of doing some actual repairs to my medical conditions.

I immediately lost around 10 pounds that first week, and have lost steadily since then (not 10 pounds, but ANY loss, for me, is monumental!). I was encouraged, but told myself that I wouldn’t consider this change a success until I busted through my low; a tall task, considering how slowly I’ve lost weight previously. Heck, I’m only a month away from two years on this journey, and until today’s official weigh-in, had only lost 58.4 pounds — most in the first year. And here I was, gaining, while still paying attention to my diet.

But when you lose heart — even if you don’t totally cliff dive off your diet into a sea of Cheetos and beer — you’re still not inclined to try your hardest. I was slipping far too much.

Back to the point: I’ve not only met that low (early in the week!), I’ve exceeded it. And I feel confident in saying that at least for now, I’ve found a crucial key I’d been missing — and it’s helped me regain control over my body. I cannot begin to explain how incredibly thankful I am for having taken one more step, against the odds, and finding that it works.

As my body changes, I expect I’ll have to push through and use other methods, but for now? I’ve got a lot to celebrate — and not just weight loss, but I’ll get to that in another blog post. 😉

 

Pour Some Sugar On Me

Jul31

Cravings are unusual for me, but I’ve sure dealt with them for the last week or so. I haven’t given in, and I can proudly report that I’m now a mere 1.6 pounds above my low; another 2.4 pounds down this week. I would be thrilled if I can sustain an average loss of around 2 pounds a week.

This is downright creepy.

Now, back to those cravings. Not only is it unusual for me to crave anything, but I was craving sweets — and I had a baby shower to attend; lots of sweets on the table, and thankfully, a few veggies. That’s what I survived on.

While I’m not a sweets person in the least — give me the choice between a chocolate eclair and a soft pretzel with plenty of salt, and you can keep that eclair — but I saw cupcakes topped with a ton of frosting, and I was nearly undone.

What the heck? This, for me, was an unusual experience. I teased friends that I was going to watch them eat cupcakes vicariously because I couldn’t have one, but I could image the taste, the texture, the confectionery goodness hitting my tongue in an explosion of sweetness.

Likewise, I’ve seen food photos on Facebook that have made me wish reaching through the screen and grabbing that food for myself were a real thing, and they weren’t all sweets. What’s up with this? It seems to have passed, now, but for a few days there, while I never felt myself in danger of going off my diet, the lust for a number of foods was strong.

My way of dealing with it? Well… I just didn’t eat the food. Yes, it was that simple, but hardly easy. My toughest day was the day of the shower; the small amount of vegetables available wasn’t really enough to satisfy me, and I felt weird about taking a meal’s worth of grape tomatoes and celery from a shower food table. (So I didn’t.) My husband was next door at a friend’s house; I went there, afterward, and he wasn’t ready to leave — by this point, I could have gnawed the leg off a dining room table. And what did they have, there?

Pizza.

Yes, I can scrape the toppings off pizza and have it (I am a low carber), but these were thin crust pepperoni and cheese pizzas. I would have had to scrape half of a pizza to have enough cheese and pepperoni to actually make a small meal. Eventually, I managed to scrounge and ended up with some turkey slices and cheese, which saved the day, but it was also a reminder that I should be prepared for such occasions.

Believe me, I have earned every ounce of the 2.4 pounds I lost this week, and I’m thankful the cravings appear to have gone away. I have a bigger challenge next weekend, but I have a plan in place — and great hopes of finally breaking through my low weight.

25 Or 6 To 4

Jul24

I’ve felt this way when I’ve stepped on the scale – plenty of times.

I’m so close to my low weight; just a few pounds more, and I’ll be there. And while the song title “25 Or 6 To 4” doesn’t describe my weight loss, it’s close: I started out around 24 pounds up from my low, and I’ve dropped to being less than 4 pounds above it. I’m happy about that!

Perhaps the thing I’m looking to, most, when I pass my low, is changing my Facebook profile photo. I’m tired of looking at the one that’s been up for so long; it’s a year old, and I want a new photo. I’m ready to put a new number in the corner, since that’s how I keep up with my total weight loss on-line. It’s a constant reminder of the weight loss I’ve achieved.

And yes, it’s a number.

If you’ve been a reader of this blog when I’ve attempted previous weight loss journeys, you know I’m not much for depending on numbers, and when you commit to a weight loss plan, very often you can get swallowed by numbers.

Numbers: weight, BMI, measurements, calories, carbs, body fat percentages… they drive me crazy, and they’re nearly impossible to escape. A few years ago, I managed to lose a great bit of weight by only using clothing fit as my indicator of weight loss — but when you get down to it, even that is a number.

To make matters worse, there are any number of medical reports that stipulate what numbers we should aspire to; the diastolic and systolic numbers for blood pressure, cholesterol, HDL, LDL. Thyroid lab ranges. A1C and fasting blood glucose.

Silly me; I thought I was done with math when I left school! I start every day by weighing and recording it. I track my food and shoot for specific ranges. I need a certain amount of water; I need to sleep a certain amount of time.

It’s just hard to escape them — but every time I have stepped away from this numbers game, I have gained weight. The last time, it was one hundred pounds. (Another number!) What’s a woman to do?

But… of course… I play the numbers. And that’s where I am and will likely stay, recording numbers, figuring out ideal ranges, adjusting percentages, digits and totals and summaries and averages all dancing around my head like a mathematician. This is something I’ve come to accept over the last month or so. The numbers matter — I just have to make sure that I keep them in perspective.

If the numbers come out right, though, it’ll all be worth it.

Upside Down

Jul17

It’s been a confusing week for me… I’m been upside down and inside out. (Blame Diana Ross.)

Just about right on schedule, my weight hit a small decline. I’ve lost .8 pounds since last week; it’s still weight loss, and I’ll take it. (This now lands me 6.4 pounds above my low.) Weight loss slowed down, but why? What’s to blame?

I didn’t bother with the snooze button, because I didn’t set the alarm.

Myself, that’s who — because this last week has been a reminder that successful weight loss is often not just about what goes in your mouth. I’ve recorded every sip and bite that has passed these lips for the last 24 days, and I’ve been well within the proper ranges. Right on the money, in fact.

I’ve learned, in the past, that I have to have certain things in place for weight to move downward, and food intake is just one piece of the puzzle. I need to drink enough water to keep my body from trying to hold onto water weight. I have to get enough consistent rest, as well. There are a few other things, but these are the major ones.

There’s something about my husband going on a trip that turns me into a teenager in regards to taking care of myself. Yes, I kept to my diet, but everything else went out the window the moment he walked out the door. I didn’t keep up with drinking enough water, which is a constant struggle for me. And I certainly didn’t get enough sleep.

I’m normally an early riser, but if I’m alone in the house, I transform into a night owl; I saw midnight every night but one, and a few times, I saw the small hours of the morning. Unlike a teenager, though, I’d wake up when the sun brightened the bedroom and woke the dog — usually around 7:30, at the latest, and if I went to bed at 3, that just wasn’t going to work for a productive day and a restful sleep.

Consequently, I’d about fall on my face asleep before noon, take a quick nap, stay awake for a few hours and do the things I needed to do, yawn at 7 pm, swear I’d go to bed at a decent time, and then see 1 am on the clock, again. As you can imagine, the times I’d eat were as goofy as heck, too.

Incidentally, I work from home, which means I can do my work at whatever time I feel like it, but I try to keep traditional work hours. This week? Spin the roulette wheel, see what hour it lands on, and maybe that would be the consecutive hours of sleep I’d get… as long as it’s under 5.

My husband is back home, and I’m regulating my schedule, again. While I’ve been frustrated at the scale, I have to remember that I have to do everything right to succeed — not just one or two things. Slow loss this week is a consequence of my actions. I believe that every once in a while, it’s both necessary and fun to change things up; I don’t regret my silly nocturnal bonding with the tv remote, or playing the living room sound system loudly at 10 pm (for all of about 15 minutes), but the consequence is that I throw my body off its rhythm.

It’s time to get back to reality… and push it.

(You’re welcome for the earworms.)

Niner Two

Jul10

If you haven’t already figured it out, I’ve been naming my blog entries for songs — and this week is no different. There’s a jazz number called Niner Two by Don Ellis. When I was in marching band in college, we performed this piece. It’s especially tough because the time signature changes throughout the song, including an extended section in 7/4 time.

(YouTube video: Niner Two with the 27th Lancers Drum & Bugle Corp — I did not perform with this band. It’s just there for your entertainment.)

This was the hardest piece we ever marched to, and for a while, it didn’t look like we were going to be able to pull it off. Our marching band was a show band, and pretty advanced for its time. We prided ourselves on musicality as well as a showy performance, and it took extra hours of rehearsal to hammer Niner Two into place, but we mastered it. Unbelievably, we mastered it — and even the college football team stood on the sidelines and watched the show in awe. Believe me, that’s a rarity.

It took discipline and hard work, as well as a willingness to break out of the mold and try new things. And that’s exactly why I chose that song title for this week’s blog, because that’s where I’m at in my weight loss journey. I have pushed myself back into a mental place where I am disciplined in my food and beverage intake. I’m also trying some new methods to see how they work. And I’ve had to come to an understanding with myself: as much as I enjoy having weekends at higher levels of carbs and calories, they kill my progress if I let them get out of hand, and I’ve been routinely letting them get out of hand.

Much of that has been because I was losing hope in this process, and slowly gaining weight. I truly feared vacation, because I really figured that after nearly two weeks of a food and drink free-for-all, I’d have no desire to reign it all in, again; and the last time I just let my diet go, I gained 100 pounds in a year. I can never, EVER allow that to happen, again.

But here I am, on my third week of eating clean, and the weight continues to come off. As of today, I am now only 7.2 pounds above my low; considering I started out almost three weeks ago at 23.4 pounds above my low, I have reason to be very happy with my progress.

If I keep working hard, if I maintain the discipline, and if I keep my options open to adapt as needed, I just might pull off what looked impossible previously. Right now, my goal is just to exceed my low, but I’m proving to myself, again, that there are rewards for hard work.