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.