Thursday, May 5, 2016

Can You Hear Me Now?

Hey, y'all!!  Is there anyone still out there?  I've been terribly remiss in writing here over the past several years.  I'd love to reconnect with old weight-loss blogger friends, and meet some new ones!  Let's get this done!!


Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Really? Three Years?

Seriously?  Three years since my last post here?  I had no idea it had been that long.  As something of a joke, I applied to be a contestant on Extreme Weight Loss.  The application asks for a link to a web page.  So I followed the bread crumbs and found my way back here, in order to post the link.  In some ways, it's hard to believe three years have passed.  In other ways, so much has changed that it scarcely seems possible it all happened in only three years.

My knight in shining armor turned out to be a toad in tin foil.  A short six months after my last entry, I moved back into my home alone, and began the journey all over again as a single woman.  The marriage was short-lived, a mere 16 months, but because of the intense love and devotion I felt, the ending was a blow from which I feared I might not recover.  What a horrible experience.  I have come away with my heart shredded, my emotions tattered, and my confidence gone.

Some people manifest their grief, stress, unhappiness, etc., by not eating.  Other people drown their sorrows in comfort food.  I belong to the latter.  I've probably put on 20 pounds in the 2 1/2 years since the separation/divorce.  I'm still below my highest weight at the time of surgery, and  I've lost a few pounds here and there, but nothing significant.

And you know what sucks?  My Prince was overweight as well, with uncontrolled diabetes.  We tried exercising and eating healthy when we were together.  We always fell back into our old habits, and never lost more than a few pounds at a time. Well, guess what?  Since he dumped me, he also dumped almost 100 pounds. How is THAT even possibly fair???

Though I think it has been lurking just beyond the horizon for years, depression has gripped me with its icy fingers, and while not severe,it has been a struggle at times to find the best medication to loosen the grip.  I have always been the eternal optimist.  Yeah, the whole Handsome Prince thing really sucked, and though I've traveled some rocky roads since then, I am still tremendously blessed. For such an optimistic, glass-half-full kind of girl, the feelings and emotions associated with depression have been confusing and frustrating.  Hard knocks or not, for one who is so blessed and optimistic, it just doesn't make sense to be depressed.

My grandchildren continue to be the delights of my life.  I see them each week day after school, and we have weekend sleepovers once or twice a month.  Watching them grow and change, seeing their minds expand with knowledge and curiosity, is something that I hope to enjoy for many years to come.

I love my daughter.  She is my heartbeat.  And I love watching her in the role of mother to my grandkids. I can't imagine my life without any of them.  Nor can I imagine their lives without me.

This.  This is my motivation.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Emotional Eating

Emotional eating makes me angry. So I eat.
Emotional eating gets me frustrated. So I eat.
Emotional eating makes me feel like a failure. So I eat.
Emotional eating knocks me off the wagon. So I eat.
Emotional eating makes me rationalize why I am making bad choices. So I eat. Because there is a perfectly good reason for it. .... Right? Isn't there?? 
Emotional eating makes me not want to track. So I don't. 

Emotional eating makes me fat.

So I stop.

It stops today. 

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Step Away From The Bacon!

I married the proverbial "man of my dreams" last April. He is good, and kind, and sweet, and thoughtful. And sinister. HA! I have blogged before about how, in his kind and thoughtful manner, he sabotages me. And I've owned the fact that it's not really him sabotaging me, it's ME sabotaging me when I accept his offerings of food "just so I won't hurt his feelings". 

But seriously. How MANY TIMES do I have to say the words "Thank you, honey, but I can't eat that." And how many times do I have to see his crestfallen look, as though I have just rejected him personally when I don't accept what he brings me. He is my biggest cheerleader throughout this progress, and is constantly telling me that he can tell I am losing weight, and compliments me daily. 

So why does he CONTINUE to bring me food that I can't eat? Does he think he is helping me perfect my willpower? Is he taking personal responsibility for honing my character and my resolve? 

We have a house full of grandbabies this weekend, and Papa got up to cook breakfast for everyone. I was busy in the bedroom with chores and getting ready for the day, happy to be behind closed doors and not having my senses assaulted with the sounds and smells of sizzling bacon, iced cinnamon rolls, and freshly-scrambled eggs. Happy that I had avoided the morning feast, and totally prepared for my coffee, water, and my protein bar, my daily breakfast routine, I settled in to finish watching an episode of Yard Crashers on HGTV, to wait it out until the feasting and cleanup process was complete. 

I hear a faint knock at the door, and in walks my husband, looking so pleased with himself, as though he was presenting me a winning lottery ticket or something. But it was not to be a winning lottery ticket, but a plate heavily laden with bacon, eggs and a cinnamon roll. WHAT???

"Oh honey.... I can't eat this!!!... but thank you for bringing it to me!" 

When what I really wanted to do was smash the plate in his face, cream-pie fashion, stand on his back and scream at him. WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME?????

As he hung his head low, and looked like I had just kicked his puppy, I relented, and told him I would eat the eggs. It was a small serving, after all. Then I checked the points value for the bacon, and found it was 2 pts for 1 slice, 5 points for 2 slices, so I ate 1 1/2 slices for 3 points. I ended up with 5 points for my breakfast, which is what my protein bar "costs", so I came out okay. He did at least take the cinnamon roll off the plate and gave it to one of the kids. 

But now the Bacon Monster has been unleashed. There are certain things that I can do okay with. As in, "eat just one". There are other things that are danger foods for me, and when I have them, it seems like the dam just breaks and I find myself craving more and more. Bacon is one of those things. Breakfast foods in general, but especially bacon. Cooked to a crispy, crunchy slab of deliciousness (just about 30 seconds away from burning). I could eat a pan full of it. 

Thankfully, he cooked the entire package, and thankfully, he and the rest of the crew finished off every delightful bite, so there are no little bacon crunchies left lying about the kitchen. 

But my house still smells like bacon.

What am I going to DO with this man??? Why can't he understand that sometimes I'm just not that strong, or even if I am strong and only eat a little bit, that it just makes me want more? He is so sweet and kind... but I guess I'm just gonna hafta get tough with him, and tell him (AGAIN) that this is making my journey more difficult. The program is so perfectly doable, and it works so well. But for me, it's as much of a mental battle as it is a physical one. He sees what he is doing as being kind, and pleasing me by bringing me food. Sometimes I see i t as mean and cruel. 

The windows are open in the house, and I've locked myself in my office to do some work. Maybe the bacon smell will be gone by the time I'm finished. I sure hope so. 

Happy Saturday!!

Wednesday, February 29, 2012


Not my usual happy self. Just grumpy. I don't feel like I have lost any weight this week. I have gone 3 days without walking, (grumpy!) and since tomorrow is weigh-in, I'm just not going to walk tonight either. Not going to take that chance of my muscles retaliating and hanging onto fluid. I've been 100% perfect OP, I've logged my food and liquids. Yet the (bathroom) scales are not budging. Yes, I know there are other ways to judge success besides the stupid scale. I'm doing the program. That is success. But week before last I stayed the same. Last week I was up 0.6. And the worst thing of all is that I don't FEEL like anything is happening. There's this IBS thing that's messin' with me as well, but there's nothing I can do about that. Or at least everything I try to do about it (in the way of medication) has been futile. 

I know how I operate. I'm just afraid if I don't start seeing some scale action, some looser-clothing action, etc., I'm going to get discouraged and drop out. I've committed to doing this, though, and I'm going to stick with it. I just hate that my bump-in-the-road has come along so early in the journey. 

It makes me really grumpy. 

And I'm getting that scratchy feeling in my eyes and nose that comes just before a cold virus attacks me. 

That makes me grumpy too. 

The boys made a mess in the kitchen last night and didn't clean it up. Now I have to look at it all day (because I refuse to clean up after a 55 year old and a 31 year old!)

That makes me even grumpier. 

Okay, a little later I'm going to read some of my personal blog posts about perspective, and count my blessings for a while. But for now I'm just going to wallow in a big pool of 


Monday, February 27, 2012

Sunday: A Day Of Rest

Well, not really. I can't remember when I actually rested on a Sunday. It's the first day of my work-week, and I work til 9 p.m.  While all my friends are enjoying their Sunday-afternoon naps.  And since the check-engine light came on in my car this weekend, I had to rearrange my schedule to allow me to get it checked out.  Translated:  Instead of doing my contract work this morning (Monday) before starting my "real" job at noon, I had to do my contract work on Sunday morning. Translated:  I missed church, and instead was tethered to the desk from about 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., with a couple of breaks for lunch and dinner.  

All that to say this:  I did not get my walk in yesterday.  Lots of people recommend taking a day off, but I find it generally works better for me not to miss a day. Keep the momentum going kind-of-thing, if you know what I mean.  Nevertheless, I took A Day Of Rest From Walking yesterday.  Today is my shift-and-a-half day, and I won't finish tonight until 11 pm or later.  I'm telling myself that I will take my dinner break this evening and get my walk in.  I know it will spell trouble if I skip two days in a row.   

I've been tracking faithfully, and staying OP since my weigh-in on Thursday. That's a great accomplishment for me.  However, I still don't feel like I'm losing.  I do feel better for all the walking, though, and I know that in the long run, it is all for the best. 

Besides.  Rest is way over-rated.  

Thursday, February 23, 2012

I Should Have

Just ate the damn Girl Scout cookies anyway. I was so excited that I was able to shove the stupid dinky little plastic tray back inside the box, shut the darn thing up and cover it with some paper towels. I didn't even lick my fingers to savor the microscopic shavings of chocolate. No. I wiped them on the paper towels. 
All day my butt, my legs and my arms have hurt. I had to take drugs during the night because my legs ache so badly. I have never before been able to say that "I walked 10 miles in four days". But today I could say that. (And I said it quite often, thank you very much, both to myself and anyone else who would listen.)
I didn't really feel like I lost a ton of weight this week. I stayed the same last week. I was kinda sort okay with that, because I hadn't been tracking 100%, but it still pissed me off. 
I did 80% better with tracking this week. Okay, so I blew it over the weekend. But... hey. I walked ten frickin' miles in four days this week!! And was perfectly OP beginning Sunday afternoon. 

And I seriously gained 0.6 lb this week. Come on. What's up with that? Yeah, yeah, I know the answer "my muscles [oh my aching muscles!!] are retaining fluid from being worked [abused!!!] from walking ten miles in the past four days". 

ummm hmmmm. If I had known for sure that I wasn't going to show a loss, I'd have ate the stupid cookies. And the Hershey Kisses. And the Mexican take-out.

No, not really. I'm just kidding. [I think...]

Well, if nothing else, I'm good and pissed off about it now, and I'm determined to show that Satan of a scale that I'm in control. I'm gonna do my very best to be 100% OP the entire week. Yes, I'm planning to walk another 10-12 miles this week too. And if I gain weight again, I swear to all that is good in this world, I will throw my treadmill in the river, burn my tennis shoes, and use my DVDs for skeet targets. 

But that won't happen again... will it?