Weekly Weigh In #7: Under Pressure

This week, I woke up very early Monday morning to go weigh in.  I have this theory that I weigh the absolute least first thing in the morning, right after I go to the bathroom.  It's not really true, but it's what I think.


I was rushing around, grabbing things like a crazy person, spilling coffee, and locking doors when I realized it was only 6:45am and I needed to chill out.  But I couldn't.  It was a weigh-in day, and I always get a bit nuts on weigh-in day.

I climbed into my car, and turned it on.  As I backed out of the driveway, I noticed this new little lighted icon was illuminated on my dash.  It looked strange - part circle, but bumpy on the bottom, with an angry exclamation point in the middle.  What the hell is this?!  Is my car ok?  What does that mean?  I have had the car less than a year, and this icon was new - and freaking me out.  By now, I was on the highway, and didn't feel anything weird in my car's ability to drive, so I kept going.  But I was nervous.  And I didn't need this on weigh-in day, because I was already nervous.

I was expecting to see this - but the tires were fine.
So confusing!

I parked the car outside the doctor's office and pulled the manual out of the glove box.  Lo and behold - the icon means "low tire pressure."  What?  What the heck caused this?  Was it the extreme heat?  Which tire was in trouble?  Did I drive over a nail at work?  Did someone slash my tires?  (No, that's silly.)  What was going on?  Seventeen million things went through my brain as I walked around the car in the parking lot, inspecting the tires with the same kind of visual detail I use on a painting in a museum.  Nothing.  Not even a bump.  Hmph.

I may be slightly exaggerating.

Now quite frazzled, at barely 7am on a Monday, I crossed the parking lot and tried to calm myself.  I strode into the building feeling frayed around the edges, but reminding myself that I had a good week - I stuck to my diet very well, in fact.  I filled out my paperwork and waited to be called - to go behind "the door."  I have mixed feelings about "the door," because it's ominous - waiting to be called is nerve-racking.  My thoughts bounce among the same things every week:  Did I lose?  Am I right to feel confident?  What if I didn't?  I'd have spent a whole week drinking shakes and NOT eating delicious, wonderful things and it would have been for NOTHING!  These thoughts make my pulse race, which is not good since they also take my blood pressure when I visit.   


I removed my watch, my lightweight scarf - I almost removed my wedding rings, hoping it would help.  And I always do this.  


When "the door" opened, Casey smiled and said, "Come on back, Niki."  I like Casey.  A lot.  My blood pressure dropped a little.  I climbed on the scale, and exhaled.  (Every little bit helps.)  Here's what it said:

Weight:  242

1 lb. lost

26 lbs. lost total.

I was crushed.

If this were a movie, it would have been one of those dramatic shots where the camera zooms in on my face, and the background zips away as tense, orchestral music plays a minor chord.  Eyes wide, I would have let out a slow motion "noooooooooo!"  I know my life isn't a movie, but this is what happened in my cinematic imagination.  And then, I immediately felt sad, angry and totally deflated inside.

Casey smiled and asked me to come into the exam room.  As I sat down and readied my flabby upper arm for the blood pressure cuff, I must have looked as befuddled as I was.  I explained that I had all my product, didn't drink or eat anything I shouldn't have, and most of all, that I was disappointed because I'm supposed to lose 3-5 lbs. on this diet each week.  After all, isn't that the point of a very low calorie meal replacement diet?  To lose quite a bit of weight, faster than the traditional way?  No, my friends, one pound was not a reason to celebrate for me, and I was upset.  I was not going through the hell of not eating for a measley one pound.

Casey listened thoughtfully to me, and then said that there are many reasons why this happens.  The first is very simple:  women's bodies move in cycles, and at times we hold more fluid.  Because of a surgical procedure some years ago, I no longer have the same kind of "cycle" as most women my age, so I've lost track of what my monthly cycle actually is.  Could this be one of those weeks?

Other reasons include not drinking enough water, having too much coffee, and the normal cycle of hitting a plateau from time to time.  I immediately scanned my memory for these reasons:  Did I have enough water?  (Probably not.)  Did I have too much coffee?  (I don't think so.)  Was it a plateau?  (No idea.)

Casey then said something that was so revolutionary, I thought she was lying:

"There are other ways to measure success than on the scale."

What?  Are you kidding?  What are those?!?

She's right.  My clothes are getting way too big.  My energy level is way up.  I feel wonderful most of the time.  These are the bits of evidence that tell me I am being successful, even when I have a bad week on the scale.  I thank sweet heaven for Casey because she pointed them out.  My crazy brain would NOT have come to these conclusions on its own, especially while fresh from the sting of disappointing weight loss.

We finished talking, and I glued on a smile and said something positive and funny so she wouldn't worry about me.  I got my product, and drove to work feeling crappy.  I let it affect my day for awhile, and never really shook it off.  And the whole time, that tire pressure icon mocked me while I drove around. 

At the end of the very long day - I was there for about 11 hours - I drove home and saw my sweet husband standing in the kitchen.  It was the first time I felt truly happy all day.  He smiled and asked about my day, and without answering, he saw the exhaustion and disappointment in my face.  I told him it was stinky, and explained everything.  He simply said, "I'm proud of you - you still lost weight.  That is something to be happy about."  He went on to say that he understood why I was disappointed, and kissed me.  To seal the deal on being the greatest man alive, he drove my car down the hill to the gas station and filled my tire with air, making the icon disappear.  It was 10 lbs. of pressure under the suggested level.  Seems everything is losing weight except me this week - even my tire.

Meanwhile, I laid down on the bed for 20 minutes and was just - still.  Afterwards, I felt better.  More balanced then I'd been all day.  And all it took was a moment of quiet and someone willing to help fix my obvious problem.  With a little air, and some attention, I felt less deflated.  Just like my tire.

This is my lesson - when you feel crazy, sit still and let someone help you.  That might be all it takes to get you properly inflated again.

Just another Saturday

Yesterday, I spent my Saturday like I always do.  I woke up early, relaxed a bit, and did some work to get ahead for the coming week.  Then, I went out for the afternoon to take care of some errands and meet up with friends.  No big deal, right?  Well, even the most average and usual of Saturdays is now filled with the unexpected.


I arrived at my massage place for my monthly massage, feeling a little stiff and eager to relax.  Massage for me isn't just a luxury - I broke my neck in a car accident at age 19, and although surgery has helped to keep me alive, it hurts every single day.  So, the massage helps to loosen up my muscles, work out the knots in my shoulders that never seem to disappear, and get me back into some alignment.  It also helps me take less medicine and combat cold weather with some more ease.  Being summer, I don't need as many massages - so it's been awhile since I've been there.

I climbed onto the table with ease - that's new.  I laid comfortably on my stomach with my face in the donut, and realized that the headrest didn't have to be as high up as usual... my stomach and chest isn't as large as it was 7 weeks ago.  I felt very different this time under the sheet - better.  Slimmer.  And honestly - less embarrassed.  It was a glorious, relaxing massage.  Halfway through, when the therapist says, "time to flip over!" I usually become nervous.  Have you ever tried to flip over under a sheet that someone's holding without flashing them or elbowing them in the jaw?  It's not easy - especially for fat people.  But this time, I was almost graceful about it.  Amazing.


After my massage, I ran some errands.  It was hotter now - and each time I slid in and out of the driver's seat, I realized how much easier it was to get in and out of the car.  The wheel used to be just barely touching my tummy when I sat down - now it's far away by inches.  I'm guessing that losing some weight in my stomach and backside is the reason.  I was more comfortable running errands in the heat because I was less enormous.  I was also wearing flip flops, instead of decent walking shoes, but felt no pain in my feet or legs at any point.  Wow.


I then went to Starbucks to relax for a bit before meeting my friends for some girl time.  I ordered a decaf iced coffee and sunk down into a large leather armchair.  And crossed my legs.  Again.  Without thinking.  (Who IS this person?)

I crossed the parking lot to the nail salon where I was meeting my 3 girlfriends for a little post-birthday pedicure time.  Amy saw me coming, and called out, "You look great!  I can really see how much weight you're losing."  I felt so good - I smiled and giggled like a teenage girl in the 70's who just met Leif Garrett.  We went inside, picked our colors, and sat down for our pedis, while my other friend, Eve, picked up a magazine.  One of the stories on the front alluded to what we thought would be a hilarious article.  It was all about "what sex feels like..." in different situations:  When you're old, when you're a virgin, when you come home from war... and the like.  One of the scenarios written about was "what sex feels like after you've lost 80 lbs."  I immediately went from thinking it'd be funny to actually being interested in what was written... so once Eve was done, I began reading. I was really touched by the writer's honesty that while her fiancee never had issues with her weight, she certainly did.  She wasn't comfortable being with him, and therefore did it infrequently.  Their physical relationship improved as she got healthier - but not because she was "more attractive"to him.  She became more attractive to herself, more confident, and more interested in being close to her spouse.  This is truly one of the perks to being in better shape - one that people don't discuss.  But it's real.


We left the salon and headed our separate ways:  one to spend time with her family, and two to the Grape Stomping festival nearby.  I considered the festival, but knew it would be all about wine and food that I can't eat, so I decided to pass.  I climbed into the car and called my husband to see if we needed anything on the way home.  While sitting there, I was very aware that my posture has even changed, and the way my body meets the seat along my backside and my lower back is even changing.  Without thinking about it too much, I finished my phone call and began to drive.  When I got home, I made my pudding, barely even noticing the pizza box on the counter that must have held the boys' dinner while I was gone.


Paul and I changed into our jammies, and settled in to watch a movie.  My hips were even farther away from the sides of my favorite chair now, and when I crossed my outstretched legs I could feel that they were thinner.  After our movie, we curled up into bed, and did our nightly New York Times Crossword Puzzle.  The smaller I get, the easier it is to practically melt into my husband while we fill in the words of the puzzle.  I no longer feel like I'm a massive wall of person laying next to him, but rather a more feminine creature who loves to be near her fella.  Considering I've never felt dainty a day in my life, I can say with gusto that I LOVE this feeling.


Did I want to cheat on my diet yesterday?  Yes.  Of course I did.  (Have you not seen the pastries at Starbucks?)


Did I actually do it?  Nope.  I didn't.  Because all of these wonderful little moments cannot happen if I indulge in old habits and bad foods.  And I'm enjoying these new feelings and realities far too much to give them up now.


So, all in all, just your typical Saturday in Northwest Arkansas.  

Weekly Weigh In #6: Good news and bad clothes

I weighed in today.  Here are the results:


Weight:  243lbs.


Lost this week:  2lbs.


Total lost:  25lbs.


This is a surprise - I didn't think I'd lose anything this week because of my birthday dinner splurge, so losing anything was great.  Reaching a milestone is equally great - 25lbs. lost is a big deal!  I am now one quarter of the way to my goal, and it only took 6 weeks.  At this rate, I may be done with this process in less than one year.


This is also a week for updating photos - it's been two weeks.  These were taken hastily this morning with my iPhone as my sweet husband was rushing out to school, so they're a bit fuzzy.


I'm not happy with these photos, though - and it's not because they're low res or out of focus.  It's because, once again, I see myself wearing clothes that I thought looked nice - but now look awful to me.  In life, my shirt actually showed my waist off a bit more, and I looked less pregnant.  In the photographs, however, I look dumpy and large.  Great.  


I'd love to blame the people who make clothes for plus size women, but I really can't.  Nobody made me buy these, did they?  I am very aware, however, that when I find something that fits, as a fat person, it doesn't matter how it looks.  Sometimes the fact that it fits is all that I consider - and that is absolutely what happened here.  That shirt looks bad, and because I don't have to do it anymore, I won't make a bad choice again.  I'll only buy new clothes that look flattering or feature some part of my figure in a positive light.  And I definitely won't wear this shirt again soon.


Both of these things make me realize one big truth - reality is often not what it seems, because we create our own illusions.  I felt positive that I didn't lose an ounce this week, yet I did.  Likewise, I was sure that this outfit wasn't that bad - yet it was.  


There are many things in my life that are not as they appear.  My hair is brown, but there's a ton of gray in there that needs to be hidden.  My demeanor at the office is usually calm, even if I'm freaking out inside.  My house is relatively clean, but I haven't washed the kitchen floor in ages and it's not getting done anytime soon.  We all have these things, don't we?


There are also some things that are exactly as they seem.  I love the challenge of my job.  I am completely in love with my husband.  I'm obsessed with bad television shows and I desperately need a pedicure.  And I today, I am 25 lbs. thinner than I was only 6 weeks ago.

A thing of beauty

Every now and then, life gives you a chance to see the beauty that's all around you.  Tonight, there was a shift in the weather, and the suffocating heat finally relented and made way for a beautiful cool breeze to blow in.  Fat, pink and yellow clouds filled the sky and threatened to rain, but only disappeared into the dark after all.  We sat on the porch watching the Parrish blue sky turn darker, and talking in the cooler summer night.  It was beautiful.


There are also times when one actually feels beautiful.  I've actually had many of those in my life.

My nails were red and long - and acrylic - and they
were gorgeous.  Don't judge me.

I can remember years ago, teaching at a school in Palmetto, Florida, I had a moment of feeling beautiful.  I was standing in the small room that held the copy machine before classes began, running off a test I would give later that day.  My sweet friend, Mary C, came in and saw my freshly manicured nails pressing the buttons on the machine, and she commented about how lovely my hands were and how great my nails looked.  I felt happy, and I agreed - it was a great manicure!  The whole rest of the day, when I talked with my hands (I can't help it - I'm Italian), I thought about her comment, and I felt beautiful.


The day I married my sweet husband, nearly two months ago now, was one of my best days.  It was joyful and emotional, and a lot of fun.  After the wedding concluded at 3pm, we went to our room to relax and nap before heading out for dinner.  Paul and I stretched out on the bed, and started talking about how great the day was.  Laying side by side, my sweet husband stared at the ceiling and said, "God, you looked so gorgeous today.  I'll never forget it."  I immediately started to cry (wouldn't you?) and in that moment, felt so dang beautiful.  It didn't matter that I was heavier than I'd ever been at that time.  It didn't matter that my back hurt from the heels and standing so much, or that I had to peel the Spanx off of me in order to breathe - he only saw the glow of a woman completely in love with her husband, and eager to marry him.  And because of that, I was beautiful.

Oh, Lanvin, nobody does flowy like you.

Today, I wore a pair of dress pants and a top to work, both of which are rapidly becoming too big for me.  The tops I used to hang dry so they wouldn't shrink are now tumbling in the dryer, in the hopes that they'll reduce a bit in size.  Unlike the tops, my pants don't shrink, really.  When pants get too big in the legs, they feel flowier (is that a word?) and actually get longer on you - that's where we are with some of my wardrobe now.  They're long enough now that I had to wear heeled shoes today.  They, in turn, put me into "heeled shoe posture" all day long, and somehow made me feel completely different.  At times, even though my day was insane with business meetings and kept me at the office for a solid 12 hours, I still loved the way I felt, striding down the long hallways - lithe, lean, and thin, with my flowy gray pants moving like they do on runway models.  Now, let's be clear - I am not yet thin, and my pants were from JC Penney (the polar opposite of fashion, actually).  But I felt thin - and beautiful.  And that is something.


The irony of this is not lost on me - I weigh in tomorrow, and expect that I have not lost any weight this week due to my birthday dinner splurge.  (I know I made good choices, and don't regret the meal - but it was more calories than I usually have, and that will matter on the scale tomorrow morning.)  But tonight, the memory of feeling better and thinner all day long today, combined with the cool nighttime breezes, has made my evening a thing of beauty.  

Running the gauntlet.

This has been a very intense week.  I am sitting here on Friday evening, knowing I actually made it through, and the part of me that's wiped-out tired is actually still not convinced I survived.  In fact, it was the kind of week that would normally drive me directly into a bag of Cheetos, because I'm an emotional eater and I love Cheetos.  Here's a summary.


This week, as we all have read, I had my miniature nervous breakdown.  Let's not relive that.

This week, I also had a birthday.  I turned 39 (for real).  I tend to get weepy and reflective when my birthday comes around - not because of aging, but because I am a girl who wants to take in her life, not just get through it - and that takes brain space and emotional strength.  And tissues.  So, I get a bit emotional around my birthday as I reflect and write in my journal and bore my husband with stories of things he was actually present for - just so I can remember.  I always know it's coming, and I am often in a safe place when the emotions hit.  Usually I don't plan much around my birthday because I know what's coming, but this week, I was not able to do that.


This week, I was not at the office.  I was facilitating a week-long teacher workshop about arts infusion with some very talented co--presenters and about 50 amazing teachers.  It was inspiring and wonderful, but it was at a partner's site, not ours.  So, I was not at the office: which, for me, is an art museum that is opening it's doors in 13 weeks to a very excited and discriminating public.  You can imagine that tensions are beginning to climb - as is the adrenaline and excitement - at work.  Therefore, it's not been the best week to be away from the office.  Things still need to get done, even though I'm not there - so, in the evenings, I'm answering the 60+ emails per day I receive, and trying to stay connected with my talented team and make sure they are not abandoned.  That makes for some very long days.

Part of the fun of professional development for teachers is the creative learning community that emerges, and part of the fun is the never-ending parade of food and snacks that is often given to the participants.  This particular workshop is not only one of the best in the entire country, but the food is OUTSTANDING.  Breakfasts including bagels, sausages wrapped in little rolls, yogurt, fruit, danish, cream cheese, croissants - and that's just BREAKFAST!  Snacks all day - pretzels, chocolate, fruit - the kind of snacks that get you through the 3 o'clock doldrums with a sugar high - and plenty of 'em.  Luncheons that are catered and smell incredible, with very nice people serving large scoops of food.  Smoothies, even!  And today, at the end of the week, ice cream for everyone!  Boy, do they know how to do it.  The participants love having these choices, and are invited often to "refresh themselves" all day by a gracious host.  It's truly awesome.


Unless you're drinking shakes and trying to lose weight.  On your birthday week.  You know, the week you've been thinking about for awhile, quietly, and saying only to yourself, "for my birthday, it's ok to go to Five Guys..."  Then, it's not quite as awesome.  Then, it's just hard.


Add to that the people at this workshop, who are genuinely proud of me and truly kind, and who all feel badly for eating in front of me, even though I insist that I'm fine - and it can be a long week for a girl on a shake diet.


If ever a girl was going to blow her diet and eat her weight in Greek yogurt and Milky Way Bars, it was me, this week.  But here's the thing:  I ate none of it.  Not one morsel.  


I filled my water bottle and drank it down.  I had only decaf coffee and my shakes, and didn't so much as lick the salt off one pretzel stick.  (I may have inadvertently given some sweet teacher a dirty look as they loaded up their bagel with some schmear, but I really didn't mean to.)  I ran the gauntlet of the professional development food table and didn't lose so much as a pinky toe.  And I feel like a prizefighter who just won his toughest bout.


As for my birthday, I had two shakes, and went out to dinner with my sweet husband.  He did some research online to see what restaurants in the area would be best for us, and based on the nutrition facts, we settled on Ruby Tuesday because of their salad bar.  I had a salad with lots of fresh veggies, and very little dressing.  I ordered a small sirlion and had grilled zucchini with it that I am now dreaming about... it was beyond delish.  During dinner, I found myself oohing and aahing over that grilled zucchini just the same way I used to drool over a Philly cheesesteak.  That's when I realized - it's happened.  I've been reprogrammed.  I now LOVE vegetables because they are my reward - my treat, even.  When all you drink are shakes, some fresh tomatoes and crisp lettuce seem like heaven.


I now understand, better than ever, that I need not mourn the loss of food that ultimately makes me feel sluggish and lousy.  I just don't need it anymore.  I have a new approach.


The truth is this:  I love my job and my busy office.  I love the educators I worked with all week.  I love the way I feel now that I'm getting lighter by the minute, and I love the fact that it's the first diet in 6 years that is actually working.  But also, I am exhausted.  I am older.  I am proud of myself for making the right choices, even when life is stressful or tiring.  While I may be tired of running the gauntlet - on all levels - I keep on running, because I have to.  It's who I am.

The dark and the light.

I am not a fan of complainers.  I never have been.  I would rather focus on the positive than the negative, and I'd rather hear something funny or wise than a snarky or depressing comment.  I always see the good in people long before I acknowledge the parts of them that need improvement (even to my own detriment), and I have no plans for changing this.  This is not to say I can't be snarky - I lettered in snarky in high school - but there is a point where I just say no.  


Perhaps this is why my Facebook status updates are generally of a positive nature.  It's also why I like chick flicks and Disney films, and I'm a sucker for an underdog and a true "happily ever after" story.  


And it's also why my blog posts tend to be funny and silly, rather than negative or mean.  I just don't want to be that girl.  My husband says that's why people like me (at least, those that do) - because I will always smile at you before I'll wrinkle my brow, and everyone wants to be greeted with kindness.


But, that positive, funny girl who writes these blog posts isn't the only one you should know.  There's also the one who is struggling with this diet, and hasn't really acknowledged that very much.  Until now.


Two nights ago, as we went to sleep, my hubby and I were talking a little, and my ever-shrinking form came up.  The discussion that followed surprised even me.  I said that the diet was going well, but that it was now "bigger than me."  What I was feeling in that moment, and proceeded to say, was that I'm kind of mad.  


I'm mad that I feel very isolated from the world of people eating, and feel an incredible sense of loss for the way I used to live.  I'm mad that I'm now one of those "particular" eaters - one who can't have 'this' or won't eat 'there.'  I'm mad that all I do is read food labels and examine every ingredient, instead of just bathing in the joy of the idea of a meal with friends and loved ones.  I'm mad that I am completely detached from the textures, tastes, and joys of food, and I'm mad that they are gone.  In short, this diet has completely changed not only my life today, but the way I will eat forever - and I was not prepared for that, and did not know how excruciatingly hard it would be.  And that makes me mad.  


The more I talked, the more I realized how upset I was about all of this, because the truth is, drinking a shake while everyone else is enjoying that world I no longer live in - food world, if you will - is really hard.  And if I had known how hard this would be, I don't think I could have even begun this whole thing.  All of this was omnipresent in my mind, for no apparent reason - but there it was.


As I laid there talking, I started crying.  I confessed that even though I work at a very busy (and sometimes stressful) job, have a busy and growing family, have great friends and lots of personal interests to keep me more than occupied, I am always thinking about food.  Not longing for it, per se, but it's always on my mind.  It may not be my primary thought, but it is always there - and the thoughts aren't always nice.  I look at the things we are given to eat in this world, and I'm horrified at the choices being made by everyone, including me.  And then I realized that I was mourning the loss of innocence where food is concerned - and the ability to stick my head in the sand about nutrition.


My sweet husband (who I am convinced is actually a saint that only masquerades as an English teacher) listened to my miniature nervous breakdown, and held me very tightly.  He reminded me that he loves me more than I will ever know, and that he thinks I'm brave for feeling all of this - and sharing it with him so freely.  (I am the luckiest girl in the world.)  And then we went to sleep.  


I woke up the next day with the lingering sadness of my crying jag around the edges of my puffy eyes.  By midday, I was basically fine, and perfectly content with my chocolate shake.  A few people who know me well asked if I was alright that morning, but mostly, my traumatic evening went unnoticed to the world.

I hesitated telling you this.  I even wrote a blog post yesterday about something entirely different, didn't I?  The truth is, I wasn't sure I wanted to share my breakdown with anyone else.  (I didn't even really want Paul to see it, but he comes with the house.)  


Ultimately, I decided it was important to share it, because when I write about my diet in a light or witty way, I'm only telling half the story.  The other part of the story is that sometimes, this just sucks, and it's hard.  I want to be done with it already - and that's ok.  I know very well that you cannot have the light without the dark.  Pretending otherwise is folly.  So, here I am, sharing my dark side.


I've heard from so many of you that my blog has made you laugh or inspired you to eat a little better.  I am so glad!  Because we can tell each other anything, I just want you to know that it's not all Indiana Jones metaphors and buckets of easy pounds falling on the floor like fat raindrops in spring.  Please know that this is hard, but it can be done.  The way I feel, and the energy I've gained is worth SO much more than a midnight snack, and that's why I persist.  I hope you will, too.  And if you find yourself crying about it in the middle of the night anytime soon, and you don't have your own masquerading English teacher to calm you down, I'll be here instead - rooting for you and celebrating your awesomeness.

Weekly Weigh In #5: The new math.

I weighed in today.  Here's the report:

Today:  244.8 lbs.


3lbs. lost this week.


23lbs. total lost.


(Not a landmark, but HOORAY!)




I know it's important to keep a food diary, but haven't committed to doing that yet.  I think it's because I'm more of a food recap kind of girl, not one to keep a diary as I'm eating.  So, let's talk about last week's food highlights.


I drank all my shakes this week.  I also had two salads with veggies, with no crutons or sunflower seeds (i.e. carbs).  They were light on the dressing (regular ranch, caesar).  Both salads had grilled chicken on them, of which I ate only about half.  (I still had my shakes to make sure I got my protein - either before or after my meal.)  


I started wondering how many calories I was eating when I had these salads from time to time (usually for business meetings or the like).  So, I decided to dig a little about one of the salads I had eaten this week.  At Chick-Fil-A, I had a chargrilled chicken garden salad, so I went to their website and looked up the stats and see exactly what I was eating.  I did this from my iPhone, while sitting outside on the porch.

On the Chick-Fil-A website, I found the single-best nutrition information I've ever found for a fast food restaurant.  It was so easy to find - not buried under a million clicks.  It was easy to read - even on my iPhone.  I was so impressed by ALL of this!  I have always been a fan of their service and friendliness, but this won me over.  As a person who has to change everything about the way she eats, access to real nutritional information is very important to me, and once again, Chick-Fil-A impresses me.  And the salad was DELICIOUS - and not just because I haven't had much food lately, but because it was fresh and crisp.

I think it's important to be able to access this kind of information easily.  Sadly, most places don't make it as easy as my friends at Chick-Fil-A.  


Case in point: Chipotle just opened within driving distance of my home, and I was really excited because I love their food... so I went to the website to see what the stats were.


Because Chipotle is a buffet-style restaurant, it makes it easy to customize your meal.  Well, their nutrition chart is also buffet style - so I have to take all the things I want on my rice bowl salad (sans-rice) and add them up.  And, I have to add many columns - calories, proteins, fibers, carbs, fats - oy.  Too much.  Who's going to actually do that math?  Most of us aren't.  And without realizing it, we're going to end up with 300+ calories of guacamole and sour cream because in the moment, it looks so glorious.  While I will always love Chipotle's food, I don't like their nutrition chart on their website.  (And I am surprised that not everything is on it - where's the rice?  I know the screenshot is only part of the chart, but it was conspicuously missing even when I scrolled down.)


My need to know nutritional information is new.  I have only recently cultivated an interest in this kind of math... adding up the calories, looking closer at carb/fiber ratios, and seeing how much protein is in my food.  (This is why I'm fat.)  But this new way of eating and reading and math-ing is now a part of me, and it's having a great residual effect on my family.

Case in point:  Today, my sweet husband took our kiddo to the airport in Tulsa for a visit to his Aunt and Uncle's home in Texas.  On the way, the boys stopped for gas, and Max got a snack.  He loves Funnyuns - and that's what he got.  This time, however, he read the nutrition label, and then said, "I'm never eating those again."  He proceeded to use his Dad's phone to look up some of the ingredients, and found out most of them were just hidden sugars and stuff that's bad for you.  Even without me there, Max was thinking about what he put in his body.  And while we all know I want to have a smokin' bod and fend off diabetes, THIS is my real goal - to leave a better food example behind for the kiddo.


In school, math was never my strongest suit.  I love my calculator and use it often.  But there is some math I can do in my head:  I know how many pounds I have lost.  I know how many I have to go.  And I can calculate a nutrition label like nobody's business.  That's what I call new math.