Cookie Monster

The holidays are filled with so many great ways to celebrate - lights outlining houses, wreaths on doors, and mistletoe dangling above the heads of those who want to smooch are some of my favorites.  Perhaps the most delicious holiday tradition for most who celebrate Christmas is the making and sharing of cookies.  I have seen some truly amazing cookies in the past few years - gingerbread men who look perfectly iced, light-as-air pizzelles, and even a few extraordinary Star Wars shaped cookies made with love by a true fan.  They are all a symbol of the season, and after they're made, become yummy gifts for friends and family.

Last night, my parents arrived for the holiday weekend, and with them came the usual suspects:  sugar cookies shaped like pink pointsettias and green trees, pizzelles, pumpkin bread, and the mother of all cookies - my mom's "chocolate chippers."  I have been eating these cookies for nearly 40 years, every single Christmas of my life.  I know exactly how much dough went into the cookie shooter for those pointsettias.  I can almost smell the waffle iron as it heats up for the pizzelles.  And those chocolate chip cookies - my favorite - replace sugar plums in all my dreams.  I love these cookies.

When the cookies arrived in my house yesterday, I did something I have never done before.  I pretended they were not there.  I just acted casual when I walked past the boxes and bowls where they quietly waited... I didn't make eye contact, didn't pop open the lid to see which ones are inside, and didn't even ask about them.  (I didn't have to - I knew exactly what was going on.)  I found other things to look at, talk about, and focus on - all the while, those little lumps of perfection waiting in the corner for someone to take a bite.  It just about killed me.

After we had prepared the turkey and stuffing for tomorrow (and by we, I mean my Mom and my sweet husband - I did nothing), eaten dinner (pizza for them, a shake for me), and introduced my parents to the magic that is Mexican Train Dominoes, my parents went back to their hotel, and I went into the kitchen to wash out the coffee pot and wipe down the counters.  And there they were - two round cookie tins (plastic, but still...) and one box.  I was alone with the cookies.  I knew this is where it was goin' down.

Immediately, I started hearing the music from West Side Story in my head... there was going to be a showdown the likes of the Sharks and the Jets, but with less dancing.  I just stared at the tins and the box, remembering that the pizzelles needed to have their foil taken off so they could breathe a bit... and I had to do it before I went to bed.  I opened the box, and the smell of the almond extract immediately crawled up my face.  Oh, sweet baby Jesus.  So good.  I unwrapped the foil, and found that they were already neatly wrapped in wax paper underneath.  I was SAVED - I did not have to actually touch the pizzelles, and therefore, they were safe - and so was my blood sugar.  I quickly put them in a tall container, still wrapped, and shoved it back under the cabinets - in the space that's dark and not so obvious to my now cookie-obsessed brain.  Knowing my willpower was weakened, I took a wooden spoon out of the drawer and pushed the two plastic cookie tins back under the counters as well, into the dark space beside the pizzelles - I guess just touching the plastic would have been too much for me at that point, and the wooden spoon somehow was safer.  

Then, I just stood there, staring at them.  Three closed containers of cookies that I could not actually see, smell or taste were lurking there in the shadows, and I desperately wanted one.  I could hear the angel on my left shoulder saying "you're doing so well on your diet, Niki - don't ruin all that hard work and progress over a cookie."  Meanwhile, the devil on my right side was countering with "oh, go ahead.  It's only once a year - and it's only one cookie."  All this, peppered with West Side Story-esque snapping and a few "pows!" and   "pops!" zipping through my mind - it was too much.  I had to leave the kitchen.

When I finally went into the bedroom to change into my jammies, I was exhausted and had little beads of sweat along my hairline.  How did that happen?  Why did the mere thought of cookies get to me so?  And how would I make it through the next few days when the cookies were actually OUT ON A PLATE?

So here's what I've decided.  While my goal is NOT to eat any cookies this week, if I slip up and have a cookie, I will not beat myself up about it - I'll be rational about the whole thing.  I just have to take it as it comes.  Because, like the Cookie Monster, I will always, always love chocolate chip cookies - especially my Mom's - and that's just how it is.

Weekly Weigh In #20: Miracle on Hornby Lane

Christmas is a wonderful time of year.  I love decorating the house inside, putting ornaments on the tree, and seeing little bits of red and green around every corner.  I love the lights on the houses and the music on the radio.  


One thing I truly love is the fantastic genre of Christmas movies.  I love watching Clark Griswold go overboard for his beloved family, and not just because he reminds me fiercely of my own father.  I love seeing Tim Allen deal with becoming the world's next big man in red.  I adore the many intertwined stories of Love Actually, and laugh my head off at Will Ferrell in Elf.  But my very favorite is the original Miracle on 34th Street - it's sweet and touching, it addresses the old idea of the reality of Santa Claus, and gives me a glimpse of my favorite place during the holidays - New York City.

While I relish in the music, decor, and gift wrapping, there's one thing I am not focusing on this year.  For the first time ever, Christmas is not about food.  I have not made one cookie, pizzelle, or loaf of pumpkin bread.  While that's probably a good thing since my sugar cookies looked deformed and lop sided last year, it's not the real reason I'm skipping holiday baking.  I refrain because I'm smart enough to know that I have no real willpower in the face of small lumps of chocolate chips, sugar and flour - and I don't want to tempt fate.  I know that when my parents arrive Friday, they will likely bring these delicious treats with them, handmade with love by my mother - and that's perfectly ok. There will be many fewer days of temptation if they bring them, instead of me having baked them weeks ago.  Those are odds I can live with.


This approach to avoiding holiday sweets has been global for me - not just at home, but at work and when out with friends, too.  And it's working, because I got some great numbers at today's weigh-in.

Weight:  209

Pounds lost:  3

Total pounds lost:  60

Booyah!  Sixty pounds.  60.  60 pounds in 6 months.  At the risk of sounding like I just won a Golden Globe award, I am going to thank both the little baby Jesus AND Santa Claus for this amazing holiday gift.  I am amazed that I've been able to reach this goal in only 5 months.  It has not come easily, and I know the next 40 pounds won't be any simpler.  But it is truly a gift to be getting my health back... and my waistline... and my energy.  And my life.

60 wasn't the only number today.  I also did some lab work, had an EKG to check out my ticker (all ok), and got on the scary and freezingly cold body composition scale.  The result - lots more good news.  Here are today's numbers, compared to where I started on June 27:


Weight - From 269 to 209
Well, duh - this is great.


Total body fat - From 45.6% - 39.6%
At the start, 121 lbs. of my weight was fat.  Now it's only 81.6 lbs. of fat.  This means I'm mostly losing fat, and not muscle - which is exactly how it's supposed to be.


Muscle mass - From 12.4% - 15.4%
32.9 lbs. of my weight was muscle mass at the start.  It's now 31.7 lbs. of muscle mass - which means I have only lost about a pound of muscle mass as I've lost 60 lbs. of weight.


BMI - From 48.3 - 38.0
Now that I'm reaching a BMI of 38, I have moved out of the obese classification.  I am now in the overweight class, and that's really something.  I am also even further away from possibly becoming diabetic, and the really big thing is that I've done it before turning 40.  It gets much harder after that - and can be much less successful.

This holiday, I am just like the character that Natalie Wood plays in my favorite holiday movie.  I started out the diet process hopeful, but not really believing in magic or anything I couldn't see.  And I was certain it would take magic to take me from lumpy and round to toned and presentable.  As the handsome and wonderful Fred Gailey tells young Susan, "Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to."  I have gotten this far, some days, on faith alone.  Today, I feel like I've just run into the house of my dreams and seen Mr. Kringle's cane left behind in the corner - real proof that believing is important and magic really happens.  In reality, the cane in the corner is Paul's (especially when his back is wrenched), and I'm not a little girl anymore... but believing in myself and working my rapidly-shrinking butt off has gotten me pretty far.  It's a complete miracle.


Merry Christmas, everyone.  I hope your own holiday is filled with family, happiness, Clark Griswold, and miracles.

Weekly Weigh In #19: A Week of Thoughts

I miss having time to write.  Life is so busy with work, the holidays, and family... I haven't had the time to really sit down and share some of the ridiculous thoughts I have, every single day, about this process.  So, here's a bunch of random thoughts I've had over the past week.


First things first: this week, I weighed in.
Weight:  215
Pounds lost: 2 lbs.
Total lost: 57 lbs.


I was beyond happy to have lost 2 lbs. this week.  I can actually feel myself getting smaller and inching toward being under 200 lbs, which is my next big milestone. 

Earlier this week, my back became really strained and spasmed to the point where I couldn't stand up so nice.  I've never had lower back pain like that before, but my sweet husband has - he was full of advice on how to manage it and get it out of my bod, which I happily followed.  But here's the crazy thing - the painful feeling of standing up for the first time in the morning, the aggravating way I couldn't straighten up, and the difficulty I had pushing myself up off the couch were all things I remember feeling ALL THE TIME when I was fatter.  Who knew that straining my back would remind me what it was like to be 57 lbs. heavier?!  The body is an amazing thing... truly.  

This week, I was getting dressed for work, and found one of my shirts to be not only too big, but unflatteringly long. It's a nice shirt, and I've only worn it twice, so I'm not ready to put it in the pile of clothes that's too big. So, I tucked it in, put on a sweater, and poof - outfit done. This is a BIG deal because I TUCKED IN MY SHIRT. Haven't done that in more than a decade.


Most of my fat-to-thin triumphs are like the tucked in shirt... I'm the only one who knows.  Things like undies that are too big, pants being held up with a belt that you put extra holes in yourself, and a wedding band that is twirling around on my finger because it's already too big again. I love all these little bits of evidence that I'm making real progress, even if I don't tell everyone about them, every day.


Last Friday, I went on a very long hike through the woods around the museum. I was with three guys I deeply respect and enjoy hanging out with, and we were doing some important work - it was super pleasant - cool and sunny - and in all, we covered every trail on the 120 acres of land around our beautiful new building. I'm betting we walked 5 miles. I am positive that I would never have been able to do that 57 pounds ago. One of the guys is tall and has a long stride, and I often had trouble keeping up with him in the past... not this time. I was right there, every bit of the way. Afterwards, I felt a bit tired, and my legs were sore - but so were theirs. Amazing. 


Got a pedicure last week. When I was at my heaviest, I'd sit in the chair, hips touching the armrests, and legs stretched out but not quite straight. My feet would roll to the outside since my thighs were so large. This time, I hopped into the chair, hips nowhere near the armrests, and toes straight ahead. It still tickles when they do the scrubby thing on the bottom of my feet, but now, I'm basically a regular person in the chair- not the fat girl who can't reach her own feet.


At work, we park pretty far away from the entry door. It's about a mile walk from my office to my car, through the woods. There is a shuttle most days to move people more quickly, in the rain, or in the extreme cold... and I have used the shuttle when necessary. However, I have found myself on more than one occasion bundling up in my coat, putting my bag across my body (never could do THAT before, by the way) and breezing past the people waiting for the shuttle as I walk to my car. I love the bit of exercise at the beginning and end of the day, love the quiet of the woods, and love the time to think and transition from work mode to home mode. I love the walk. Fat Niki would not have loved the walk.


Lastly, we sent Christmas cards to some friends and family members, containing photos of our happy little Stewart Clan. One photo is from our wedding - 57 lbs. ago. A friend got the card, and said to me, "I love the card, but who is that woman?" That woman, in fact, is gone. She's never coming back. 

Weekly Weigh In #18: Non-Plussed!

I cannot remember a time when I walked into a clothing store and went anywhere but the plus size section.  It's automatic - I look for the area in the far corner filled with dark and plain clothing, and walk that way without even seeing anything else.  And that's just how you do it when you're fat.

I've been replacing my clothes as I lose weight, but I have really only replaced WORK clothes - the things people see me in.  My nightgowns, casual clothes, and play clothes have taken a backseat for sure.  Now that winter has arrived, running around the house in baggy clothes and billowy, voluminous nightgowns isn't going to cut it - so it's time for some new play clothes.

I can't justify spending a lot of money on something like sweatpants that I only wear around the house, so I went to Walmart to find something cheap and warm.  I went to the women's section, and reached for a pair of JMS (Just My Size) 2x pants.  They were too big.  I tried 1x... also too big...

Hmph.  I was stumped - what do you do when 1x is too big?  That's the smallest Just My Size...

OH MY GOD.  I started to sweat and giggle, and realized I needed to go to the other side of the wall... into THE REGULAR SIZE SECTION.

I have not been in this section for a very, very long time.  I walked to the other side with caution - almost as if someone would see me there, and yell, "hey, lady - no.  Just no.  This is not your area."  (Totally didn't happen.)  Once there, I found the activewear, and began to look for my size.  Of course, I went for black - old habit.  I grabbed two pairs of cotton pants, and held them up to my waist to see which would go around me.  I was astounded that the XXL pants in the regular size section WERE TOO BIG... and the XL pants fit just right.  Oh my God... I was about to buy clothes from the regular size section for the first time.  

One of my biggest discoveries was how different things are on the other side of the wall.  There are FAR more choices, fabrics, and colors for just about everything.  There are colors!  Patterns!  Textures!  These things just don't happen in the women's section - at least, not in the same way.  I was amazed and, honestly, a little overwhelmed.  Thank God I was only looking for some soft, comfy sweatpants and not an actual outfit - I would have been on the floor, curled in a ball, twitching.  (I may need help when it's time to shop for real clothes in this section.)

Let's be perfectly clear - I am fully aware that these stretchy, soft pants are just to wear around the house, and that most of my work clothes are still plus size.  I am not yet out of the fat girl's section, but I'm closer than ever.  And this is the beginning.

I weighed in yesterday, and had an interesting result:

Weight:  214

Pounds added:  +1

Total pounds lost:  55

I was disappointed, but not entirely surprised - I could feel that my body was holding a lot more water than usual.  I also knew that the number on the scale wasn't everything, so I simply rolled with it and recommitted to being more vigilant about drinking my water this coming week.  And honestly, I was still on my XL pants "high"... my real measure of success this week.

The one-pound gain did not horribly affect me - that's a huge plus.  Fitting into a pair of XL pants from the regular size section COMPLETELY AFFECTED ME - because they were NOT a huge plus.  

Weekly Weigh In #18 and #19: Thankful

One might think that a dieter like me would be setting the DVR every week for The Biggest Loser.  In truth, I have only recently seen the show, tuning in for the first time once a few weeks ago, and this past week.  I am not quite sure how I feel about the show, and here's why.

This past week was "makeover week."  Apparently, people don't lose much during makeover week, because they are not focused on the gym as usual.  Funny that this aired on the week after Thanksgiving, when I'd imagine most dieters also didn't do so well in their own weigh-ins.  Here's how I did:

On Nov. 23, the week before Thanksgiving -

Weight:  215

Pounds lost:  3 lbs.

Total pounds lost:  54

On Nov. 29, the week after Thanksgiving -

Weight: 213

Pounds lost: 2 lbs.

Total pounds lost:  56

I am elated with this weight loss, but I am not surprised.  On Thanksgiving day, I arrived at my mother-in-law's house with all the right things:  green salad, my shakes, and lots of Crystal Light.  I knew that if I had a shake before the meal, I wouldn't be as hungry, and would make good choices.  I also visited Calorie King online (and found an iphone app for it - woot!) and looked up stuffing, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes, rolls, yams, apple pie and pumpkin pie - and saw the calories each had, and the carbohydrates within.  The very high numbers of each one deterred me from even THINKING about having more than a taste of each, and I remembered that when it was time to fill my plate.  I had a spoonful of cornbread dressing and another spoonful of yams, some turkey with a little dressing, and a very large green salad.  When others went back for seconds, I drank my Crystal Light and spent time enjoying the conversation.  And when dessert was served, halfway through our Mexican Dominoes game, I had a cup of coffee instead.  I made all the right choices, and for the first time in my life, Thanksgiving wasn't about the food - it was about family and sharing our time.  This is a VERY big deal.  I will never again look at Thanksgiving the same way, and for this, I am more thankful that I can adequately express.

During this week's Biggest Loser episode, before the five contestants got on the scale, we heard a lot about how "makeover week" is often a big disappointment for the weight loss stats.  One of them only lost one pound, and everyone was aghast.  The remaining four all had huge losses, and the lady who lost only one pound was voted off.  I felt just terrible for her... and again, thankful.  

The process I'm engaged in with the New Directions team does not entirely focus on the scale's numbers... the staff there often talks about the many ways of measuring success.  I wished that Sunny, the one-pound-loss contestant, could sit down with my supporters and hear them say, "your clothes are smaller!  You have more energy!  You feel great!  You can do so much more in the gym now than you could 11 weeks ago!  One pound is good, by the way - keep it up!"  These are all measures of success, and she has them.  She talked about all of them - and they showed footage of her struggling at the beginning on the treadmill, and running easily now.  But in that moment, when she weighed in, everyone was just disappointed in her.  She looked stunned, confused, and sad.  I really wanted to tell her that our bodies have cycles, and sometimes hold water weight... that it's not an exact science, and sometimes you ebb and flow with weight loss... and that next week, she'd probably lose plenty.  But I couldn't.

My message to every one of you that's dieting, and maybe even fearing the holidays ahead is this:  It's not just about the scale.  It's about you - living with food, day in and day out.  It's' about making good choices and shifting your thinking.  It's about knowing you are healthier and happier, and your body is responding in many ways.  It's great to see the pounds disappear, but it shouldn't be life-threatening when they don't disappear fast enough.  Everything happens when it's supposed to, and staying on track is all it takes.  I now know this in my bones, and for that, I will be eternally thankful.

Rydell High Forever

I love musical theatre.  I always have, and I always will.  I even love bad musical theatre... and bad movie musicals.  I can't seem to turn away when they happen to be on television.  I am helpless.

My love affair with musicals began in high school.  I was in a few plays at Pennsauken High School, including How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Annie Get Your Gun, and Once Upon A Mattress.  I fell in love with musicals during those years, and always connect that love back to my alma mater.  Maybe that's also why I love musicals like Grease, Grease 2, Footloose, and Hairspray - they take me back to high school, and the beginning of my love affair with this art form.


Oh, Grease 2.  I just found it on television - and of course, I'm watching it.  Part of me feels so happy that it's on, and part of me feels slightly dirty and as confused as I always am about my love for this terrible film.  I mean, honestly - did we need a second film about the kids at Rydell High?  Is it a tour-de-force of magical, meaningful lyrics?  Phenomenal performances of powerhouse singers?  Skilled, elegant method actors assuming roles they were meant to play?  No, no, no and heck no.  So why do I LOVE to watch this movie?  

Let's start with the obvious: there are few characters in film that look completely hot in both argyle sweaters and silver biker leathers, but Michael Carrington (Maxwell Caulfield) is one of them.  Combine that with the smarts and the accent, and I'm tuning in for every single airing of this movie.  Poor Michael, so distantly, misguidedly in love with Stephanie Zinnoni.  He takes the long road and tries to win her love on the back of a bike.  He writes papers for other students (so smart, but so illegal) to earn the money for his chopper.  He doesn't buy one already built - he builds his own (guys with tools and mechanical knowledge?  Hot.).  He's equal parts stand up guy and rebellious outsider.  Do I need another reason to watch this movie?

I love the fact that every actor in the show is about 30 years old, playing a high schooler.  I love that they sing about bowling as a metaphor for sex.  I love to hate Cool Rider and Prowlin'.  I adore the Reproduction song and want to teach my 15 year old kiddo about sex by making him watch that sequence.  I love that Frenchie is back in high school for absolutely no reason.  I love all the foolishness.


I also think I'm a sucker for any story about someone who wants something, and goes through a heck of a lot to get it.  There are lots of books and films out there with this very theme that I have loved... and I think it applies to even bad movie musicals.  


I think my feelings about Grease 2 are very similar to my feelings for this diet.  It's wonderful and it's horrible.  It's going great, but I want to be done drinking shakes.  Like Michael Carrington, I find myself wanting something that's just a bit out of my reach - to lose 49 more pounds - and I'm reinventing myself in order to achieve that goal.  Sometimes I break out into song when nobody's expecting it, but I did that even before the diet.  For those around me, sometimes watching me drink shakes instead of eating is painful... just like watching two non-teenagers sing about "doing it for their country" in a bomb shelter.  Yes, my diet is strangely like Grease 2, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

Perhaps the most startling similarity between New Directions and Rydell High Redux is the finale.  At the ridiculously elaborate senior luau, the closing song addresses the students' concern about finishing high school and losing tough with one another.  I think every high schooler thought about this when their time came... some of us sad to lose our friends, some of us eager to get away from our hometowns.  The song reassures the class of 1961 with lyrics that affirm "we'll be together - always together - like birds of a feather, forever and ever."  This is absolutely my weight loss battle anthem.  Even when the shakes are done, and I'm into maintenance mode at my goal weight, I'll always be thinking about food, nutrition, and how to maintain a healthy lifestyle.  I won't ever really graduate from this high school of dieting... we'll always be together.  I've come to accept that in these past 4 months.  Now, I just need to get to graduation day.

Weekly Weigh In #16 and #17: Getting Back to the Routine

Mom, Paul, me and Max at the Member Preview
for Crystal Bridges.

The last two weeks have been incredibly eventful, exhausting, exciting, and most of all - historic.  I have not had a moment to breathe, let alone blog.  I also found it terribly difficult to find time to get to the doctor's office and weigh in- in fact, I didn't weigh in at all last week.  I went yesterday and finally caught up, and here's what it said:


Weight:  218
Pounds lost:  0
Pounds gained:  0
Total pounds lost:  51


The fact that I did not gain any weight is pretty incredible... it's been quite a journey.


I weighed in on November 2, and the next day, I went to Little Rock.  I saw approximately 360 of my favorite art teachers on earth at the Arkansas Art Educators Conference, which I enjoy every year.  While there, I was honored with an award for Distinguished Service Within the Profession of Art Education, and I delivered a keynote speech at the closing luncheon.  I spent time with colleagues and friends, and really enjoyed reconnecting with some of the most talented teachers in the country.

I came home and immediately launched into opening week activities for the museum.  There were galas for two nights where people in black tie attire discovered the museum for the first time.  I met artists who hang in our collection, leaders of other museums, collectors, donors, and other notable art lovers - and it was magical.  The volunteers and staff were amazing - even though their feet hurt and they were beyond exhausted, each and every one of them was generous with their smile and their time.  The clothes I bought to wear for the events were actually too big for me on the nights of the galas - which is awesome, but highly inconvenient when you're heading out to a black tie affair!  I wore a roomy black suit the first night, and shopped the next day for something that fits better.


Next was the 25-hour Member Preview Day.  Over 7,000 people came to see their museum, and it was fantastic.  Well organized and thought out, our special events team, security, and facilities folks deserve a lot of kudos.  People were amazed, and they loved the museum's architecture and collection.  I worked late into the night, and gave a midnight tour of the collection.  The next day, I was part of a private tour for former President Clinton - a real honor.  He is smart, funny, and was very interested in both our collection and our architecture.


Then, opening day came, and the world was finally let in to Crystal Bridges... it was exciting!  There was a great opening ceremony on the downtown Bentonville square, where our architect, executive director, and board chair all welcomed the world to Bentonville... and the museum opened.  It actually opened.  After all this time.  It was open.  I was emotional, excited, and overwhelmed - this day that I had been working towards for more than 3 years was finally here.  


Public response has been great.  Most everyone has left smiling and saying they cannot wait to come back.  


I am incredibly proud of so many people.  Our Gallery Guides and Trail Guides have been training for nearly a year to tell the world about our museum, and they were brilliant! Our staff produced an audio tour, that's downloadable in the iTunes app store and wildly popular with the public.  All the museum educators have done a fantastic job this weekend, in fact - with the drop in studio and experience art studio particularly.  Our galleries look incredibly beautiful, thanks to our curatorial and prep staff.  Our grounds and trails are stunning, even as the leaves begin to fall off the trees... and the architecture glows at night from within.

The museum opening was not the only thing happening this week.  Among the opening events, we also had visits from family - my parents, and Paul's sister Marion.  Max was in his very first school play - The Trojan Women - and it was fantastic!  And, Max turned 15 on Sunday.  I'm really glad we had family in town for all the big events of the beginning of November - it's been great to share it with everyone.


With all that has happened in the last 2 weeks, it's no wonder I didn't have time to weigh in.  In fact, my diet was not the most important thing in my life for two whole weeks... and I survived.  I ate a couple meals with family or work folks, but I ate smart meals - and stayed in ketosis.  I walked miles and miles of gallery floors, and stood for so many hours that my legs were weak and fatigued.  I didn't have enough water because I was in galleries all day (and water is not allowed) so I'd drink lots of water at night to make up for it.  Overall, I made great choices so I could stay on track, but I didn't let my diet prohibit me from enjoying two of the biggest weeks of my life.  I felt good about all my choices, and I'd do it all over again, just the same way.


Many times during the week, when I was feeling tired and sore, I wondered if I could have made it through all of this with 51 extra pounds on my frame - I think the answer is no.  I am so glad that I started this journey when I did, and got at least halfway there by opening day.  I was  much more ready for the physical demands of opening week than I would have been at my starting weight.  The last two weeks are absolute proof that being healthy is the goal, as well as the reward.

Weekly Weigh In #15: Diet demons

I'm not sure where I have been, but driving to my weigh-in today, I really noticed Autumn.  The trees around our house are ablaze with a million shades of red, orange, and yellow, and they look beautiful.  There are pumpkins everywhere, and Halloween is just days away.  I've been so busy with work, I haven't really brought out Halloween or fall decorations this year, so all of this autumnal stuff caught me off guard.  


At my weigh-in, I learned I've been calculating my weight loss from the wrong starting point.  I started at 269, not 268.  See, they round up if your starting weight is 268.8 - like me.  So, I was a little off in my calculations.

Today's weight:  220

Pounds lost this week:  2 lbs.

Total pounds lost:  49 lbs.

Once we finished the part on the scale, I waited to have my visit with Elizabeth, the kind and lovely PA in the doctor's office.  She is wonderful - a great source of inspiration and information.  She noticed that I looked like a paler, lousier version of myself today, but mentioned it gently and with caring.  I told her I wasn't feeling good, and through our talk, we deduced that it's not just a cold, but stress.  (I mostly already knew that.)  We moved on to talking about my food and diet, exercise, and the like.  Elizabeth asked about my hunger, my snacking, and my general process, and each time I answered, she smiled at me and said she was really proud of everything I'm achieving, especially at such a busy time in my life.  She also said I would be smart to go home after this, rest and get better before going back into the office - which I took to heart.

Lindsey and her parents, on MTV's show last night.

While driving home, I was no longer thinking about the pretty trees and falling leaves.  I mostly thought about stress and dieting.  See, I saw a show on MTV last night, called "I Used To Be Fat," and there was a wonderful young woman on the show, working to lose weight during the summer before she starts college.  A few big things happened that summer that were stressful for her, most notably her father taking her to look at an out-of-state school and leaving her there after an argument, with no way home.  This caused major stress for her, and affected her otherwise-successful weight loss and fitness goals.  


After talking to Elizabeth about stress today, I realized this was my fear, too.  Fear that the level of stress in our lives over the next 2-3 weeks will be at a level where I cannot effectively keep losing weight.  Fear that this will set me back.  Fear that this will somehow keep me from having the great results that motivate me so strongly.  Just plain fear.  Forget scary movies and eerie haunted houses - this kind of stuff is way scarier to me.

My fear is not without its foundation.  I often begin things I do not finish properly - including diets.  When I was a freshman in college, I was doing Jenny Craig very successfully.  That summer, I broke my neck in a car accident, and spent a lot of time getting well (which I am now), but it prevented me from finishing the "reducing" phase of that diet and transitioning into the "maintenance" phase.  Eventually, the weight loss I had worked hard to achieve was null and void, because I put it all back on before I could learn how to keep it off.  I have started Weight Watchers multiple times, never to reach my goal, and always to put the weight back on.  I've even ordered Tae Bo on TV, done it 6 times, and abandoned it before it could really become a habit.  All these diet demons swirl around me, silently, all the time - almost as if in claymation, courtesy of Tim Burton.


Here's the thing about my diet demons, though.  I have two options where they are concerned - realize they're there to help me, or allow them just to mock me.  I am choosing to think they're here now to help; to remind me that I need to approach this differently for it to work.


And, you know what?  I totally am.  I'm recognizing the stress afoot, and being extra conscientious about staying focused.  I'm blogging - and that keeps me aligned and accountable.  I'm staying away from tempting situations and making the best choices I can.  And, above all, I am NOT saying, "gee, I can't do the shakes right now, so how about I just see you in a month, doc?"  That's gotta be something.


In the end, my diet demons are a little bit like kids in scary costumes that have to trick-or-treat in the daytime:  you can totally see that they're only wearing masks made of plastic, and they're definitely not scary.  You just have to play along, give them candy, and quickly send them off to the next house.

The Pictures Say It All

Sometimes I don't feel like I can see the changes in my body the way others can.  And, I really want to.  I am almost halfway to my goal, and should be able to see the changes easily, but sometimes it's not so easy.  

Even if I can't see the changes, I have other measures of success - I've been shopping for new clothes, and now am wearing clothes that actually fit me.  I can move around more easily, I have more energy, and feel fantastic.  I can comfortably cross my legs, sit in narrow chairs with arms on them, and slide behind the wheel of my car with ease.  So I know it's really happening.

Whenever I can't "see" the changes, I get out the camera.  We took photos this week of my progress, and when I look at them, compared to where I started.  And boy, did it help.  Now, I can really see the difference.

I started on June 21 at 268 lbs.  The new photos are on October 21, and I'm at 222 lbs.  My arms hang straighter at my sides, and there is actual negative space between my arms and my body.  I even have a bit of a waist.  There's also something different - the smile on my face is much more genuine.  That's all the proof I really need.

Weekly Weigh In #14: I lost an Alex.

I'm sure you don't realize it, but I am actually the human version of an app that converts things from one measurement into another.  I didn't really understand how good I've gotten at this until today.


I spend a lot of time converting things internally.  Whenever I see someone eating something, I silently equate it in my mind to how many shakes that food might equal.  With cat-like mental reflexes, I quickly convert a person's meal to how many shakes it would equal... and even have the class to stop myself from barking out the conversion results.  After all, how neighborly would it be for me to shout, "hey, lady!  Your chicken nuggets?  That's like 30 of my shakes!  The dipping sauce alone has more calories and sugar than I consume in a whole day!"  Not exactly a "bon appetit," is it?


When I go to the mall and drive past Five Guys, I smell the peanut oil that they're cooking those delightful french fries in.  I quickly roll up my window, calculating that just by smelling it I may take in 250 calories (just over one shake).  Like a hypocritical snob, I turn my nose up as I drive past, feeling righteous that I'm not inside eating - even though I will always love those burgers.


I'm less democratic when it's my good friends or family - sometimes without trying.  When I see my sweet stepson reach for a bag of Funnyuns, I know I'm making the "there's more nutrition in shoelaces!" face.  He sees it - I don't even need to make a peep.  Nowadays, he's reading labels and eating less junk - so the face means something good in this case.

As a dieter, you're primed to become a human conversion calculator.  You're given lots of tricks for figuring out how much you should eat.  For instance, the right-sized portion of chicken or steak is about the size of a deck of cards.  The right-sized serving of hummus is not an entire container - it's more like the size of a plum.  And having only one burrito is probably the right portion size - not 3 - even if they ARE less than a buck at Taco Bell.  


I have also become highly adept at converting my weight loss pounds to actual things.  This handy skill is great for helping me visualize how much I've actually lost, instead of simply saying a number.  I recently saw a box of food in the aisle at the grocery store, still in the cardboard shipping package.  It said, "unit weight: 14 lbs."  I picked it up - 14 lbs. is heavy!  Think about how heavy a 5lb. bag of sugar is... how many of those was I storing in my hips?  Weight adds up, literally - no wonder my legs and back always hurt before.


Today, I weighed in.  Here are the results.

Weight:  222.

Pounds lost this week:  2.

Total pounds lost:  46.

I went to work after my weigh in, and later in the day I mentioned to my friend, Amy, that I have lost 46 pounds.  She smiled at me and said, "that's how much Alex weighs."  I immediately did my super-hero-like mental calculation - imagining Alex, and the last time I picked her up and hugged her - and the sheer truth of this moment completely overloaded my brain.

Alex, after a day of shopping with Mommy,
enjoying a pretzel and a Barbie at Target.

Alex is the daughter of Amy and Aaron - two of our dearest friends.  She is smart, beautiful, and generally awesome.  I always think of her as "baby girl," mostly because that's what both her parents lovingly call her.  And that name denotes a little person.  But she's growing up so fast - she's turning into a lovely young lady who loves animals and playing in the woods behind her house.  She's 46 pounds.  And that is now what I have lost.  Or, more accurately, what I used to carry around all the time.  Damn.


Tonight, I feel incredibly proud of myself, because when your internal conversion calculator can start measuring pounds lost as people, you have really achieved something.

Weekly Weigh In #13: Golden

This week, I weighed in.  I felt pretty sure I had not lost an ounce.  I didn't drink all my water, and didn't devote time to exercise.  This was not self-sabotage, but a product of the week I had - as things heat up, I'm giving more and more gallery tours and working in areas where you cannot have food or drink, so water is hard to get in.  I'm also working longer days, eliminating the ability to go walking or do a little cardio when I get home.  I was unsure how all this would affect my moment on the scale.


Weight:  244
Pounds lost:  2
Total pounds lost:  44


Now, I know the scale is not the only measure of success, but on a week when you pay for both your food AND your monthly program fee (about $150), it helps to have a weight loss of significance.  So, two pounds was good.


I also feel relatively confident that I can keep doing the program through the next month of very crazy stuff.  I will probably have to eat regular food at a reception or media event, as I did this past week, and I refuse to make myself crazy about it.  I am prepared for some bumps along the way, but remain committed.  


I find the most important thing during this time of sheer insanity is to know myself.  To know what I will and will not do, and what I need to make myself feel aligned again at the end of the day.  I'm not always so in touch with these things, so the self-investigation I'm currently doing is pretty interesting.  Here's what I'm finding out, even in just a few days into the process.


There are some things I'm just not willing to do, and some that I absolutely will continue.

• I will not give up on my diet just because this is going to be a busy month.  In life, there will be other busy months, and I'll have to get through them, too.
• I will drink 3 shakes per day, and attempt to get all my water in.
• I will weigh in, even when I am sure I haven't lost weight - because I just might be wrong.
• I will actually get through it... this is the hardest part to believe right now.
• I will not put my 44 pounds back on, just because I'm busy or stressed.  

At the end of the day, there are just two simple things I really need to right myself again:  my boys, and The Golden Girls.


I know I have married the absolute right man, because when I lay down next to him at the end of the day, I feel completely safe and drift right off to sleep.  I don't do that when I travel, or when he's away, so it's got to be because of sweet Paul.  He's been so supportive and encouraging during this time - and always helps me balance out, just by hugging me.  I'd be a wreck without him.  Having Max has also been so great, not just because he's an incredibly cool kid, but because having children forces you to think about the longevity of your decisions.  I'm doing what I'm doing for me, and for him - to show him that food and nutrition matter.


I also know that I need The Golden Girls.  I can watch them over and over, and I rarely get tired of them.  I laugh out loud, still, and the jokes.  I even love the parts of the show that are ridiculous, and don't reflect real life- like the fact that they live in Miami, yet dress like they live in a cold climate with all those layers and flowy polyester pantsuits.  


I think the reason I love Dorothy, Blanche, Rose and Sophia is because they remind me of my past.  Before living in Arkansas, I lived in Florida for 18 years, so that's familiar to me.  I used to see their "house" on the backlot at Disney-MGM Studios regularly, since I worked there for nearly 10 years.  But beyond all that, I remember watching these girls with some of my sweetest, best friends, and laughing ourselves silly.  Shaun and I have roared at Sophia's wit.  Nathan and I have giggled at Rose's innocence and stupidity.  Lenny and I laugh our heads off at the slapstick moves of the first season, and the physical comedy Bea Arthur does so well.  And my Mom and I laugh at everything about this show, in the same way we laugh like fools at funny greeting cards in the store.  Most of my favorite people have laughed with me at this show, and so somehow, they're all here in spirit when I unwind with the girls from Miami.


Someday, I'm probably going to BE a Golden Girl.  Long after our husbands are gone, it's entirely possible that we will all end up living in a house in Florida together - me and my Mom as the Dorothy-Sophia team, Lenny in the Rose role - innocently hopeful and full of hilarious stories (but really brilliant under it all), and Nathan in the Blanche role - the sassy, fashionable landlord.  Shaun will be our next-door neighbor, a la Empty Nest, and have his own full-blown comedy show going on, too.  There we'll all be - laughing, eating cheesecake, and continuously dieting.  The only variable will be this: when we diet, there will be shakes.


My plan for getting through the next month includes some simple things.  I have to know what makes me happy and recharges my batteries, and then make time to recharge them.  I cannot ignore the things that are happening around me - I can still make good choices when life is nuts.  I have to remain flexible, and remember the commitments I've made to myself.  And I need to let the people I love help me, and be there for me - I don't need to do it all on my own.  If I can do that, I'll be Golden.

Weekly Weigh In #12: Playing Dress-Up

Twelve weeks is a long time for me to be on a diet.  Or, more accurately, for me to have stayed with a diet.  That's three months.  Three long, food-less months, drinking shakes and eating puddings while the people around me chew and nibble on delicious things.  Yes, I've had the occasional salad, and I even went off the diet completely over Labor Day weekend - but through all of that, I've basically spent my 21 meals per week drinking shakes and eating puddings.  In fact, I've been doing this so long that people around the office are starting to say, "when do you get to eat again?"  and "when will you be allowed to drink?"  The inquisitive masses aren't trying to sabotage my diet - they're being curious and wanting to understand the seemingly never-ending process of me becoming un-fat.  They're also, in their way, showing support by talking with me about it, rather than sweeping it aside - and I appreciate that.  But the truth is, it's a hard question to answer - I don't know how long it will take.  I do know that the things learned on the journey are incredibly important.  And this week, my lessons were doozies.

Weight at this week's weigh-in:  226

Pounds lost:  1 pound

Total Pounds lost:  42 pounds

At week 3 or week 8, this kind of news would have depressed me.  But not now, as a twelve week veteran of this extreme program, I have learned not to beat myself up over a one-pound-loss week.  It's a loss - and my body goes through cycles - and it's better than gaining, and yadda yadda yadda - all the other stuff people say to soothe me on a one pound loss week.  But this week, I don't feel like I need soothing.  I know that losing pounds is not the only measurement of success, because I had some great stuff happen recently.

As I've mentioned in other posts, we're opening our art museum on 11-11-11.  It will be a special, historic time, and we'll be hosting people of all kinds, from all over the world.  There are plenty of tours to be given through our amazing collection, and much to do in the days that come.  And I literally have nothing to wear.  Nothing that fits, nothing that's appropriate, and certainly nothing that I want to be seen in.  So, I have finally accepted that I have to go shopping.  

It's important to say that the simple action of just going shopping is hard for me, for a couple of reasons.  First, at my core, I'm cheap.  I rarely shop without a discount, coupon or sale afoot.  And shopping for clothes that I know won't fit me in just a matter of weeks really burns my cookies.  The other reason shopping for clothes scares the heck out of me is that I've rarely had good experiences in the much-feared dressing room.  The whole thing makes me want to scream, really.  Seeing outfit after outfit that looks terrible and doesn't fit makes me feel like a failure at life, and drives me directly to the food court.  In fact, this I probably why I have often decided, before even trying on a particular garment, that it would be a tragedy on me and just walked out of the store.  


This time, I hoped shopping would be different.  I told myself that I could do it - and that I really needed to do it - and I went out shopping.  I didn't bring a friend, because there was a better than fair chance that I'd have a meltdown - not something anyone should have to see.  

The first couple of stops were disappointing.  I went to Belk and found gorgeous shoes, but they didn't have my size.  I tried on a few tops, but they were just too pricey.  I left empty handed, as usual.  

I passed up Ross, even though it was finally open, because the crowds were beyond insane.  People were waiting 30 minutes in line for a register.  I knew I wouldn't find anything I loved so much that I'd wait that long.  30 minute lines are for concert tickets and Space Mountain - not discount designer duds. 

I got these in black leather - za za zing!

I headed next to TJ Maxx in search of shoes, and found four pairs of shoes that I LOVE - two pairs of heels, and two pairs of loafers.  I know it's not clothes, but this is a big deal - I bought heels.  I haven't been interested in heels in a long time, because they were never comfortable - who wants 270lbs. of body weight on the balls of your feet all day?  Just losing part of my weight has made all the difference in my comfort.  I left there feeling great that I had a little foundation for the outfits I still hoped were out there.

I then went somewhere I haven't in years - Dress Barn.  (The name alone has often kept me away - who wants to dress like they live in a barn?)  I started looking around, and I was happily surprised - there were some nice things.  Not so much barn wear!  Actual stuff I might like!  So, I picked up a bunch of stuff to try on and headed into the dressing room.  I could hear the creepy-movie-soundtrack in my head, like Jamie Lee Curtis running away from a killer in some awful B-movie.  The door closed, and it was just me and the clothes, and one enormous mirror.  Great.


I put on the first outfit, and I looked - nice.  The second - kinda pretty.  The third - downright flattering.  I tried on outfit after outfit - and a transformation began to happen.  I looked nice.  I couldn't believe it.  I slowly began to realize that I used to take biggest size into the dressing room, just to see if they they would fit.  I didn't care if I looked bad, I just had to find something to wear.  But now,I was looking for something else - I wanted to see how they fit... if they flattered me... if they were pretty, or elegant, or sassy.  It wasn't about just picking the biggest size anymore, it was about finding the size I now am.  (Which was now 2-3 sizes smaller than when I started.)  I actually looked nice in nearly everything I tried on - I didn't have the same bumps and bulges tugging at the clothes, making them look distorted and ill-fitting.  I could see myself, finally, as I was - thinner.  It was a real moment - a really big moment - in the Dress Barn changing room.   I even cried, just a little bit, from relief.  


I came home from my shopping trip all lit up and sparkly, smiling from ear to ear, with more than a few things.  I knew my hubby didn't really care about what I had gotten, but I showed him anyway, modeling my heels and walking with a little swing in my caboose.  I have never, ever felt that good in clothes before.  I finally liked playing dress-up.

Success also happened in other ways - more quietly, and with less tears.  On Thursday night, my sweet husband and I went to see the Martha Graham Dance Company perform at the Walton Arts Center.  When I sat down in the seat, I was completely comfortable, and didn't feel like I was squeezed in at the hips.  I felt like a regular size person for the first time in a long time.  It was quite a moment, sitting in the balcony of the theater, enjoying an extraordinary performance with my honey - even if nobody knew it but me.

The truth is that even when I finish this phase of my diet, I'll always be thinking about food and what choices I'm making.  It will never go away - it can't.  That's just how it is.  And after 12 weeks, I'm finally okay with that.