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.