It is time to stop whining about how my body seems stuck again and doesn't want to lose weight. We all know that is an excuse, a good one, but one I am tired of. I am back to the emotional point I was at a couple of years ago when I didn't have 10 pounds to lose, but 40. So, I'm putting it into perspective. It's not 40, it's 10. I can keep whining and stuffing my face and it will be 40, or I can get off of the pity pot and go back to doing the things I was doing then, now.
The most important changes I made were both in my diet and by doing some form of movement each day. I ate fewer calories, less meat and more of things like green tea and water-laden fruits and veggies. I also got moving for at least a half an hour, twice a day. In fact, even five minutes twice a day started making a huge difference in my mood and energy, which encouraged me to keep going. So here I am again, five minutes. By the way, I got that treadmill I was promised for Christmas. Yea, because I ordered it . . .
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
"The Kind Diet"
Did you see how great Alicia Silverstone looked on Oprah? She was thin again, her skin glowed, and she's having great success in the poop department. I immediately ordered her book, The Kind Diet: A Simple Guide to Feeling Great, Losing Weight, and Saving the Planet
. Well, I requested it from my library and a month later, I'm curled up in bed reading all of her secrets. I've got to say, I love the concept, the vegan/vegetarian/macro-biotic fusion thing. Except for the no meat, no dairy , no eggs part. That's just it - the whole thing is obviously great for our bodies and mind, it just seems so . . . extreme. Yet, I keep getting drawn to books on macrobiotic cooking, and vegan eating and vegetarian recipes (one means no meat or dairy or eggs, the other is just no meat, I think) so may be my unconscious is crying out for that green food.
At this point I have read half the book and I am feeling a little convicted, but really more a sense that this is a really good next step in my journey of eating for health and happiness. So, whatever, I will make the switch. Sigh, decision made. How hard can it be? I already eat a semi-Asian diet, which is the basis of the macrobiotic concept. Did you know miso soup protects you from radiation poisoning? Now you know. I've got to admit, I feel a little sniggling of pride at my new found puritanical dietary resolve. I am woman, see me eat.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and, sob. I am not talking the sniffles here, no trickle of a tear down the cheek. I mean really weeping, grieving. Is it merely the thought of no more pork baby-back ribs, the absence of juicy steak, turning up my nose at cheese? Well, yes, who can live without cheese??
After blowing my nose into my sleeve, (like you haven't done that) I move into the next stage of the grieving process, i.e., groveling in the throes of dairy-addiction: bargaining. I can bargain like nobody's business. Oh yea. Should I be embarrassed that I am already back-pedaling and I haven't tossed even a dollop of sour cream yet from the fridge?
I remind myself of my already virtuous foodisms: naturally raised beef, a yearly garden - note to self: buy organic seeds - and anyway, I am practically devoted to buying locally grown produce . . . For crying out loud, I am only one woman!! Besides, I can't possibly ignore all the beef in the freezer, can I? It's already paid for!
So, I calm down, sip a little medicinal brandy, and tell myself I should just start slow, buy more organic meats and produce, and start switching out the sugars and flour to brown rice syrup and whole wheat, which, by the way, all cost a lot more moolah. I know . . . it's worth it . . . I'm just saying.
Cruising the grocery aisles, I resolve to cut expenses somewhere else and march with great determination to the organic, pasture-raised chicken then . . . veer off and grab the two-pound, big bag of water-logged, ammonia-contaminated, hormone-raised, frozen chicken breasts on sale for $5.99. Disgusted with my wimptitude, I tell myself I will balance it by adding brown rice. I am making a start, I say. Easy does it. Besides, something is better than nothing.
Resources:
. Well, I requested it from my library and a month later, I'm curled up in bed reading all of her secrets. I've got to say, I love the concept, the vegan/vegetarian/macro-biotic fusion thing. Except for the no meat, no dairy , no eggs part. That's just it - the whole thing is obviously great for our bodies and mind, it just seems so . . . extreme. Yet, I keep getting drawn to books on macrobiotic cooking, and vegan eating and vegetarian recipes (one means no meat or dairy or eggs, the other is just no meat, I think) so may be my unconscious is crying out for that green food.At this point I have read half the book and I am feeling a little convicted, but really more a sense that this is a really good next step in my journey of eating for health and happiness. So, whatever, I will make the switch. Sigh, decision made. How hard can it be? I already eat a semi-Asian diet, which is the basis of the macrobiotic concept. Did you know miso soup protects you from radiation poisoning? Now you know. I've got to admit, I feel a little sniggling of pride at my new found puritanical dietary resolve. I am woman, see me eat.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and, sob. I am not talking the sniffles here, no trickle of a tear down the cheek. I mean really weeping, grieving. Is it merely the thought of no more pork baby-back ribs, the absence of juicy steak, turning up my nose at cheese? Well, yes, who can live without cheese??
After blowing my nose into my sleeve, (like you haven't done that) I move into the next stage of the grieving process, i.e., groveling in the throes of dairy-addiction: bargaining. I can bargain like nobody's business. Oh yea. Should I be embarrassed that I am already back-pedaling and I haven't tossed even a dollop of sour cream yet from the fridge?
I remind myself of my already virtuous foodisms: naturally raised beef, a yearly garden - note to self: buy organic seeds - and anyway, I am practically devoted to buying locally grown produce . . . For crying out loud, I am only one woman!! Besides, I can't possibly ignore all the beef in the freezer, can I? It's already paid for!
So, I calm down, sip a little medicinal brandy, and tell myself I should just start slow, buy more organic meats and produce, and start switching out the sugars and flour to brown rice syrup and whole wheat, which, by the way, all cost a lot more moolah. I know . . . it's worth it . . . I'm just saying.
Cruising the grocery aisles, I resolve to cut expenses somewhere else and march with great determination to the organic, pasture-raised chicken then . . . veer off and grab the two-pound, big bag of water-logged, ammonia-contaminated, hormone-raised, frozen chicken breasts on sale for $5.99. Disgusted with my wimptitude, I tell myself I will balance it by adding brown rice. I am making a start, I say. Easy does it. Besides, something is better than nothing.
Resources:
Monday, March 29, 2010
I am sick of working out - there, I said it.
So, last year I finally lost the baby weight. That's right, after 6 years of getting pregnant, nursing, losing a couple of pounds . . .and then getting pregnant, nursing, just keep on going for five episodes. The point is, I finally did it. No, I don't have some big "will-power and a good tread-mill" success story. The truth is, I wasn't even trying to lose weight at that point, I was trying to regain my sanity. I just wanted to feel good when I woke up for once instead of feeling like crap everyday. It worked. I felt good and I started looking good. This isn't about that. Sorry.
This is about what happens after that. This is about me thinking that since I finally beat the anxiety and depression that had been taking over my daily existence, like a slow-growing fungus, sapping my energy and sense of excitement about life, then hey, side-bonus: I not only got my groove back, but got skinny too - I must be done! That's it. I was on maintenance, baby. Guess what, life comes back with some more whoppers to crack your smug little "look at me being all happy" smile.
This is the next phase when, as much as you would like, you can't get rid of every single negative person and situation in your life (ahhhh, wouldn't that be nice). The reality is that some of the whoa-is-me-addicts bringing you down are people you are married to, gave birth to, or for some other reason, are not willing to kick to the curb. Look, I am all about the positive thinking, but I can do all the vision boards, believing myself happy and rich and care-free, speaking it into reality, all the live long day, and it is still not going to turn my husband into a half-full kind of guy. So, here I am back at "Jeepers, why am I so blasted tired all the time?" again.
The truth is, I don't even have the motivation to gung-ho exercise the way I did last year. Well, to be fair I didn't start out gung-ho in the first place back then, either. I just started with making a deal with myself to walk in place for five minutes, at least once a day, just to make myself get out of bed. I know, it's kind of pathetic. But real.
And no, I didn't gain all the weight back. But I did gain three to five pounds over Christmas, then another five pounds just for the heck of it. So it's one dress size. Some of you are playing the pity fiddle for me right now, am I right? Here's the way I think of it: at the end of the day, it's still one size bigger than I wear. It's one size bigger than almost all the clothes I own. So, it is kind of a big deal, to me.
So what happened? I just got to a place where a lot of external stressors were gone, finally, and all the stuff I was doing to relieve that stress, like eating right and exercising and reading positive books, just seemed like over-kill. I just wanted to enjoy for a while. Eat a lot more junk, lay around a lot more, blow off walking and other stuff. After all, I was THIN. I could handle it. I could just stop and get back on track after a week or two. I was giving myself some time off and that is healthy. Who's fooling who? A day off is healthy, not a month off, let's be honest, here, finally.
Do you ever do that? Just say, "I do not care a bit today - I am suddenly and bizarrely wanting a break from doing the things that leave me feeling good and healthy and you know what? I am going to eat a bunch of sugar and thumb my nose at any exercise what-so-ever just because I can!" It's like a a weird out of body experience. You see yourself gaining weight and keep telling yourself you can quit anytime and turn it around, it's not that big of a deal, and my clothes are just a little tight anyway. That is until the day that I cannot button the pants that used to literally fall off of my hips.
Then I get scared. I shake myself in the mirror and shout, "What did you do? Why didn't you stop at one pound, or three pounds?" So, here we go. I vow to drink nothing but protein shakes and smoothies for a week. That lasts until lunch. I think the night before about how tomorrow is the day, that is it! Enough of this. I will eat only raw foods, or only low fat, or just cut out the meat or what-ever is going to be the magic solution to quickly wipe out the evidence of my over-indulgence before anyone in my circle of friends notices I (gasp) gained weight.
Listen to me, sugar and fat are my crack! No matter that I wrote the book on losing weight slowly for lasting results (literally, I wrote a book) - I want it now!
Phase forward a few weeks when, once again, I lay figuratively slumped in a corner semi-comatose from alternatively depriving myself and binging, losing three pounds and congratulating myself by gaining back four. "Hey idiot," I tell myself with a smirk, "why don't you read your book?" "Shut up," I reply. I read the back cover where it says, "I am not unhappy because I am overweight, I am overweight because I am unhappy."
Oh, yeah, I forgot. OK, so I slipped into de'river. You know, the one called De-nial? So, it is back to basics again. Good messages in, good attitude out. Good food in, good health out. Five minutes of walking in . . we are getting there.
Resources:
This is about what happens after that. This is about me thinking that since I finally beat the anxiety and depression that had been taking over my daily existence, like a slow-growing fungus, sapping my energy and sense of excitement about life, then hey, side-bonus: I not only got my groove back, but got skinny too - I must be done! That's it. I was on maintenance, baby. Guess what, life comes back with some more whoppers to crack your smug little "look at me being all happy" smile.
This is the next phase when, as much as you would like, you can't get rid of every single negative person and situation in your life (ahhhh, wouldn't that be nice). The reality is that some of the whoa-is-me-addicts bringing you down are people you are married to, gave birth to, or for some other reason, are not willing to kick to the curb. Look, I am all about the positive thinking, but I can do all the vision boards, believing myself happy and rich and care-free, speaking it into reality, all the live long day, and it is still not going to turn my husband into a half-full kind of guy. So, here I am back at "Jeepers, why am I so blasted tired all the time?" again.
The truth is, I don't even have the motivation to gung-ho exercise the way I did last year. Well, to be fair I didn't start out gung-ho in the first place back then, either. I just started with making a deal with myself to walk in place for five minutes, at least once a day, just to make myself get out of bed. I know, it's kind of pathetic. But real.
And no, I didn't gain all the weight back. But I did gain three to five pounds over Christmas, then another five pounds just for the heck of it. So it's one dress size. Some of you are playing the pity fiddle for me right now, am I right? Here's the way I think of it: at the end of the day, it's still one size bigger than I wear. It's one size bigger than almost all the clothes I own. So, it is kind of a big deal, to me.
So what happened? I just got to a place where a lot of external stressors were gone, finally, and all the stuff I was doing to relieve that stress, like eating right and exercising and reading positive books, just seemed like over-kill. I just wanted to enjoy for a while. Eat a lot more junk, lay around a lot more, blow off walking and other stuff. After all, I was THIN. I could handle it. I could just stop and get back on track after a week or two. I was giving myself some time off and that is healthy. Who's fooling who? A day off is healthy, not a month off, let's be honest, here, finally.
Do you ever do that? Just say, "I do not care a bit today - I am suddenly and bizarrely wanting a break from doing the things that leave me feeling good and healthy and you know what? I am going to eat a bunch of sugar and thumb my nose at any exercise what-so-ever just because I can!" It's like a a weird out of body experience. You see yourself gaining weight and keep telling yourself you can quit anytime and turn it around, it's not that big of a deal, and my clothes are just a little tight anyway. That is until the day that I cannot button the pants that used to literally fall off of my hips.
Then I get scared. I shake myself in the mirror and shout, "What did you do? Why didn't you stop at one pound, or three pounds?" So, here we go. I vow to drink nothing but protein shakes and smoothies for a week. That lasts until lunch. I think the night before about how tomorrow is the day, that is it! Enough of this. I will eat only raw foods, or only low fat, or just cut out the meat or what-ever is going to be the magic solution to quickly wipe out the evidence of my over-indulgence before anyone in my circle of friends notices I (gasp) gained weight.
Listen to me, sugar and fat are my crack! No matter that I wrote the book on losing weight slowly for lasting results (literally, I wrote a book) - I want it now!
Phase forward a few weeks when, once again, I lay figuratively slumped in a corner semi-comatose from alternatively depriving myself and binging, losing three pounds and congratulating myself by gaining back four. "Hey idiot," I tell myself with a smirk, "why don't you read your book?" "Shut up," I reply. I read the back cover where it says, "I am not unhappy because I am overweight, I am overweight because I am unhappy."
Oh, yeah, I forgot. OK, so I slipped into de'river. You know, the one called De-nial? So, it is back to basics again. Good messages in, good attitude out. Good food in, good health out. Five minutes of walking in . . we are getting there.
Resources:
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