Friday, November 25, 2005

Another Thanksgiving under my belt...

and on my thighs, my hips and my ass. I’m still reeling from the insanity of it all. Mom initially vetoed the green been casserole but was in favor of my sister’s, for lack of an official name, Sugar Filled Sweet Potato Mush professing her well intended desire to keep it healthy. I quickly pointed out that while the grease fried crunchy onions weren’t what one might call nutritious, green beans were still considered a vegetable in most states and that with proper use of 98% fat free Cream of Mushroom soup this delectable dish could still pass for healthy (at least when juxtaposed to Sugar Filled Sweet Potato Mush). After careful deliberation she conceded and Green Bean Casserole was once again back on the menu for my 29th Annual Thanksgiving Day Eat Til You Puke Extravaganza.

Mom called me a couple nights before the event to give me the entire menu run down and it was right then and there that I knew one thing for sure…I was going to need a VERY stretchy waistband. My eyes glazed over as she read the list: turkey, cornbread stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, spoonbread, fried okra, rolls, green bean casserole, sugar filled sweet potato mush and for dessert pumpkin pie and caramel apple pie. Am I the only one privy to the fact that, aside from the turkey, the green bean casserole is probably the healthiest item mentioned? I’m just sayin.

Fear of dehydration during the drive down to mom and dad’s had me starting my morning with an Eggnog Latte (hello fattening). Upon arrival and preparation of the green bean casserole I was quickly greeted with a cheese ball and wheat thins. Luckily it tasted slightly odd to me this year (mayhaps from the eggnog latte coating on my tongue) so I didn’t eat near as much as I usually do. Shortly thereafter it was time to gorge. I ate a healthy serving of everything but the mush and the spoonbread while drinking Mountain Dew and Eggnog. Later I shared TWO PIECES of pumpkin pie with my nephew. Oh, and less I forget, my cousin stopped by after dinner with additional rolls that one couldn’t possibly pass up as they were from my Aunt’s recipe that we don’t get very often.

Whew! I was feeling all right until I got home and sought refuge on the couch. I couldn’t even begin to get comfortable. I was bloated, sleepy, my stomach felt as if it would burst and, oddly, I still couldn’t stop thinking about those rolls. Luckily, I refused to take home any leftovers. Eating that way for a day is one thing. Eating that way for an entire week is a wee bit more than my waistline can handle at this point.

So my official, starting over, post 29th Annual Thanksgiving Day Eat Til You Puke Extravaganza weight is…wait for it…352. UGH! Anyway, let’s just see what kind of miracle I can work between now and Christmas shall we? Happy Holidays!

Monday, November 21, 2005

I'm a big ol' juicy liar

My last entry guaranteed success. I winced when I typed those words knowing my track record yet I still typed them as if it would secure my place in the weight loss hall of fame. I did post a couple sad excuses for entries between then and now but somehow (evil grin) when I transferred the old blog to it’s new home I lost them. OK, so, I confess…I just plain didn’t LIKE those entries nor do I want more professions of my being in the “zone” again published for all to see. Why? Because the zone came and went like a 2-dollar whore thus leaving one ashamed and hoping no one was the wiser.

I joined Weight Watchers meetings AGAIN and just last week decided to quit because I’d pretty much only been gaining and I’d rather spend my money on something that DOESN’T make me feel worthless. I also decided to stop doing the spa parties and though I’ll miss the extra money I will NOT miss schlepping spa stuff to and fro during my weekends. I’ll still maintain consultant status but ix-nay on the arty-pays. I tell myself that those weekends will now be spent working out and working on flutterBy (my greeting card company) but so far its just involved a lot of quality couch time.

Last week I got the gumption to fill out the forms for the next season of The Biggest Loser and when it came time to make the video I froze. Not so much by the thought that it wouldn’t be very good but more by the realization that during the first few shows of the season those ladies are getting up there half naked. They get on those scales in a sports bra and spandex shorts. That, my friends, is a fork in the road that I will NOT be taking on this journey. I’d rather have each individual eyelash plucked from my lids than withstand that hell.

So here I sit at 350 pounds (note: 5 pounds from my all time heaviest) and just kickin my own ass for my inability to control this monster. I mean come on, it’s hard work, but brain surgery it is NOT. Just eat right and exercise for crying out loud. Stop self-medicating with food. Stop putting myself last on the list of things to take care of and bump me right up there to the top. Stop saying “I can’t do it!” and “It’s too much weight to lose.” and just DO IT! Ok, now that I sound like a shoe commercial I think I’m done.

I’m not professing entry into any mythological zones and I’m making no guarantees. I’m just letting you know I’m back and diligently searching for the testicular fortitude to git er done. For those still sticking with me and rooting me on, clearly you have more patience and sticktoitiveness than I do and so in your honor I’ll give it another shot and try to post often. Oh sweet CHRIST let this work to my favor.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Skinny to fat sweat ratio

Meaning...if I were skinny would I be sweating this much? It's like 97 defrickingrees outside and I'm sitting here, in front of a fan, still sweating. Typing is apparently too much exercise for someone of my size in this kind of heat. I'm already starting to feel dehydrated and I'm only 4 sentences and a title into this blog entry. I feel like there should be a table across the room with volunteers passing me water so I don't cramp up. At my size I can only take off so much clothing before my dog needs therapy and it's times like these that make me wish I were skinny. OK, wait, I wish I were skinny EVERY day...or at least a little less fat...but TODAY it would be some kinda nice. I mean it's like I was born with built in thermal underwear or something. Just a 24/7 Eskimo Parka.

My point? Well, I'm not sure if you got the memo but this is my last summer fat. Uh huh, next summer I will be a raging hottie tooling around in my convertible VW beetle (yes, I finally got one) and I will finally know how thin people deal with this frickin heat. I'm moving in 2 weeks to an apartment closer to work so that I can save money and buy a house in a year. SO, I will move into my new house thin, or at least close to it. I figure my apartment will be a good half hour from anyone I typically hang out with and the city I'm moving to isn't exactly high up on the "Places That Are Action Packed" list so what else will I have to do besides work out and start cooking healthy meals. I will probably become a hermit (other than working) and when I come out of my cave in a year...voila...skinny.

OK, so the above paragraph might closely resemble that of a Dallas dream sequence minus the shooting of J.R. but let me just point out ONE simple factor that could make it all reality. Turning 29 has sent me into a complete tailspin. I wasn't expecting it. It sorta clothes-lined me out of no where. I thought 30 might be painful but as I hit 29 I have one mindset and one mindset only...I have a hell of a lot of things I need to accomplish before I hit 30. I feel like the last 11 years (if not all 29 but I'm cutting myself some slack since most kids don't accomplish much) of my life have been a complete waste. It's like God hit the pause button on his TIVO and forgot to come back and restart my life. So, now I've taken over, hit the fast forward button, and have rapidly begun to catch up...hence the car I've wanted for 8 years, now I've got it.

I took a break from Trainer Guy Todd hoping my foot would get better but it's not. I've determined that it will only get better if I lose more weight. I haven't worked out in a good 3 weeks so, it's time to get back on it. I called him and told him we needed to hit it and finish my sessions because when I move I'll be going to a different gym. I'm not going to drive alllllll the way back to SE Portland all the time to work out with him no matter how great he thinks he is. My apartment also has a 24 hour mini gym where I can work out in the mornings or whenever I feel like it. There are some GREAT neighborhoods around it with nothing but HUGE houses where I can walk Lola and keep reminding myself of the house I'm working to get.

So, tomorrow morning I'm going to weigh myself and then I'm packing my scale in a box. I'm going to bust ass over the next two weeks and I'm not going to weigh myself again until I unpack that scale in my new apartment (at which point I hope it's kind). I haven't given up for those of you still reading this. I haven't been losing weight but at least I've been maintaining for a while. The next blog entry will be reporting nothing but success...guaranteed.

Thursday, July 7, 2005

Illegitimis non carborundum

This is a British World War II phrase. U.S. General Joseph W. Stilwell (1883-1946) then adopted it as his motto and to that I say "BLOODY BRILLIANT!" As of this morning it is now Kelly Anderson's (1976-soon if I don't lose weight) motto. I'd come across it somewhere before but was reminded of it today after expressing my complete and utter disdain for myself to a very wise lady (E, consider this your shout out). It means "Don't let the bastards grind you down." and it is EXACTLY the mindset I need to adopt.

I am currently in the midst of a full blown spell of self-loathing. I've been having these days more and more lately. I've wasted hundreds and hundreds of dollars working out with a trainer only to stay the same size because I can't stop eating the wrong things. I was already hating myself yesterday when I got to the gym and having a tough time keeping it together when TGT (Trainer Guy Todd) announced that it was time to check my stats. I told him I didn't want to and explained that it was a self-loathing day and that I could already tell him that nothing had changed. That if I had tangible proof that nothing had changed it would probably smack me right into a full blown bout of depression. Yeah, he didn't care because stat checking he wanted so stat checking he did. I'm a pound heavier than I was when I met him, body fat has barely gone down and the measurements showed little to no change (some up, some down). While he did my measurements he asked what happened that had me having such a bad day...he doesn't understand that nothing has to "happen" for me to hate myself.

When we were done TGT then proceeded to very enthusiastically remind me that a little improvement is better than no improvement. I didn't agree. I only felt more like a failure. He then said he wants me to get up every morning and do 30 minutes of cardio on top of going to the gym at night and what does HE need to do to make that happen. I told him he'd have to come drag my ass out of bed at 5:30 every morning. He said he could do that...I didn't take him up on it.

With a half hour left to our allotted workout time he managed to unleash in me a sense of complete and utter hate. Surprisingly, it was more for myself than for him (though I'm not gonna lie to you, I really wanted to smack him upside his sunburnt head). I winced as he started setting up a lil circuit he intended for me to do. Lift this weight, do these leg presses, get on the floor and do a bridge, ride this bike, now lift these weights...and hurry up because we have to do it alllllll over again. There is only one part of that equation that reigns supreme at bringing out the hate...the bike. 3 different times I had to get on that thing and I didn't just have to ride it I had to pedal pretty f'n fast (for me anyway) for 2 or 3 minutes (determined by how pissed off he wanted me I think). We'd worked the bike in before and he had me keep it at 80...I could barely do it. This time he wanted me to keep it at 90...riiiiiiiight. TGT's crack addiction is now blindingly obvious.

My head started pounding and I COULD NOT BREATHE!! All these people were around so I tried not to make it completely obvious that I wanted to pass out or that I couldn't breathe and all of THAT (duh) only made it worse. When we were done I grabbed my stuff and walked out. None of the joking around and funny ha ha's that we usually toss around as I leave. I replied with a cranky goodbye and I hyperventilated my way out to my car where I sat and cried. I've been welling up ever since so I'm sure I've solved the latest water retention issue.

"Illegitimis non carborundum!" Though I have many "illegitimis" in my life that are trying to sabotage my efforts and grind me down I'm the biggest bastard of them all. I'm harder on myself than TGT ever will be. I derail my efforts more than anyone else does. I hear all the speeches about how I haven't quit and how I'm faithfully going to the gym even on the days when I don't have to meet TGT but right now it all just sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher to me (You know, "wah waaaahh, wah waaaahh wah."). It's not ENOUGH! I've got to do better and I've got to stop letting the bastards (me) grind me down.

Thursday, June 30, 2005

Scale haters UNITE!!

For those keeping track, yes I know this is the second entry of the day but it can't be avoided. I've either witnessed a miracle or I'm in the process of uncovering a sinister plot to get people to keep buying training sessions. As you know from the last entry the results have been less than impressive. It would cause one to reconsider the mass amounts of money being thrown to and fro (I don't know which way fro is exactly but work with me here). It took all the energy I could muster to get my butt to the gym tonight knowing I would have to ride the bike the whole time because of the foot issue (not a big fan of the bike and don't last as long). As I was pedaling away Trainer Guy Todd (miracle worker or evil doer? Hmmmm, I wonder.) came over and at some point I told him we needed to break out the fat % machine and check on the status. He told me that would involve checking my weight and after much cringing I got off the bike and headed in to face my demons. I got on that scale (like the one at the doctor's office) and slid the black doohickey allllll the way over to what I knew it should be. Dropped like a rock when I got on there. I nudged the weight higher figuring I'd forgotten how these scales worked and that dropping down meant I must have gained. As fellow scale fanatics know, dropping down means you need to LOWER the weight. I kept nudging and it stayed put. OOoook, let's try the other way but it'll only be a pound or two. Insert miracle here because it said I'd lost 13ish pounds in the last month whereas my scale at home, well, about a gain of a pound or two in the last month.

Now, my good senses tell me that it is bloody WRONG but the inner diva wants it to be so very right. It would mean that my scale at home is wrong (which at this point I'm willing to live with all things considered). It would mean that all the failures I've convinced myself of over the last month haven't happened. It would mean that I AM a rockstar. Ugh, I HATE scale inaccuracies. When was the last time someone calibrated that bad boy for cryin out loud? All in all I KNOW I shouldn't even go by the scale and I should go by how I feel and how my clothes fit and how the measuring tape says I've done but come on, I'm a woman and like all women (minus I think 3 of them) I judge myself by the number on that scale. GRRRR dagblasted scale. Can you even imagine how many confident women we'd have out there and the lack of eating disorders if scales were, well, abolished? I mean, when you're obese you're don't need a number to tell you just how big of a failure you are. Why can't we just lose enough weight to feel be healthy. Why's it have to be a specific number we try to force ourselves down to. So I'm "supposed" to weigh 155. Well damn it, maybe I'll be perfectly content at 175. Maybe I'll like my ass at 170 and find no desire to annorexia myself down to what I'm told I should weigh. Maybe, just maybe, the world is already too full of skinny frickin women and I don't want to be another one. Ok, that's going overboard. I've clearly worked out too hard. I still think scales suck though!

(Update: Friday the gym scale was back to normal and I've lost NOTHING!!!)

In memoriam

Oh how I do miss my pastas, my sugar, my red meat. We've been so close for so many years and now I turn my back on them as though they've done something unforgivable. A few months ago I could have fed most of Somalia with the amount of bad carbs I ate in a month and now my container of uneaten jasmine rice sits on top of my fridge as if dead to me. My cupboards full of Pasta in a box and Hamburger Helper and soups with potatoes in them are rarely opened and as the cobwebs begin to spin I think "WHYYYYYYYYY????" Why must you raise my blood glucose to ridiculous levels and find comfort in the recesses of my butt, thighs & stomach? We could have been great. We could have gone the distance.

My hamburger has been replaced with ground turkey and my pepper steaks are a thing of the past. Why? Trainer Guy Todd. He's anti-red meat along with pretty much everything else I eat. Every session I bring him my food journal and it ends up riddled with bright orange highlights over what I SHOULDN'T have eaten. I mean, yes, the trip to Olive Garden deserved a highlight or two and the margaritas after the baseball game, perhaps, but the Fat Free Cottage Cheese? The Subway sandwich that didn't even have cheese or mayo? Apparently the more cottage cheese you put in your mouth the more cottage cheese you put on your thighs.

I have, I'll admit, found religion at the gym. Not only is Todd the devil but I'm quite often found uttering, "Oh my Godddddd!" when trying to lift more than I can handle and "Christ!" when he tells me 25 reps at the aforementioned weight I can't handle. Here is where you're probably wondering how all this sadomasochistic behavior is paying off. Well, I'm one for being honest so let me just say...IT'S NOT. I mean, it might be. I mean, not well enough. I mean (insert big sigh here), it's all my fault. I have not been eating in a fashion that is conducive to excellent results so all the working out I've been doing is probably only preventing me from ballooning even more. I've been holding water like the Titanic because I haven't been drinking what I should with all the working out I'm doing (though I remedied that Tuesday when I drank 96 ounces of water...I've been in the bathroom ever since and over night I was 6 pounds lighter). I have a foot injury that I haven't been taking care of and I've been in pain for pretty much 2 months now.

Now, I say it isn't working because the number on the scale isn't going down; however, my logical self says "Yes, silly girl, it is're just looking at the wrong numbers." I know it is working because I can feel and see muscles that weren't there 2 months ago and I'm sure that if I tested my body fat again or maybe even broke out the measuring tape I would be impressed. I know it is working because I can climb a flight of stairs without passing out. I know it is working because people have told me that they can see it. I know it is working because when I go to that gym I feel more like I belong there because I fit in than I belong there because I don't fit into anything.

There is nothing like going from a place where you think everyone is watching you and judging you and taking bets on how long you'll last this time to a place where someone is actually routing for you. A few weeks ago I was lifting weights with Todd and he had the weight at some crazy level and I could barely do half my set let alone finish it. I looked around and there were a good 10 guys on the machines around me and half of them were staring at me as I kept trying and telling Todd I couldn't do it (one should also note that while most men grunt and groan and make hideous faces when the weight they are lifting becomes too much to bare, I laugh hysterically so that's a sure fire way to draw attention). Todd started helping me a little and making me finish them. Laughing through it all, him too at this point, I got it done. I looked up and one of the guys gave me a wink and a thumbs up. A "You go girl!" if you will.

The last few days I've been doing really well in the eating arena as well as the water so hopefully it's all falling into place now. So, goodbye bad carbs and sugar and red meat. You will be missed and I will never forget the good times we've had but our times together will be few and far between now. You'll have to find another ass to enlarge because THIS ass is shrinking on the daily.

Wednesday, June 1, 2005

If thou seekest the Devil...

he works at Bally's. And I would have told you sooner but as I headed into my office to write this entry I realized I had a couple things I had to get done first. One being putting my garbage out on the curb. I took the first step down my porch and had to stop and ponder just how important garbage pickup was this week because my legs actually did NOT work. Twenty minutes later the 5 minute job was done.

Then I packed up the stuff I needed to wash for my spa party tomorrow night and headed to the washing machine. This is when I realized my washing machine is in the basement. I considered moving out but determined that was not an immediate solution (though I'm still considering it to avoid any future incidences). Let me see if I can put it into perspective for you. Imagine, if you will, that someone has physically removed your thigh muscles. Thigh muscles, I might add, that control the momentum at which you descend a flight of stairs. I ask this because as of right now I have no control over my thigh muscles and they might as well have gone temporarily AWOL. Now, in an attempt to not just plummet head first down said stairs you put most of your weight on the railing of the stairs (thank God for railing). You call into action the rest of your leg muscles to somehow coerce your foot onto the next step. All of this taking quite a bit of time.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs and put my clothes in the washer I headed back up. As I climbed back up I noticed a definite quiver in my thighs but it was easier than going down. I got up those stairs with a sigh of relief and then almost cried when it dawned on me that in a half hour or so I would have to do it all again to get my clothes and bring them up to the dryer.

So, this is probably where you're wondering what ritualistic acts were performed at my first work out with Trainer Guy Todd. We did upper and lower body but there are two things responsible for the pain I will be in for my birthday tomorrow. Squats and lunges. Hmmm, squats & lunges. Just doesn't have the nice ring to it that Ben & Jerry does. Anyway, I thought I would die and the only comfort I could find through the whole ordeal was that we were in the gym where they do the aerobics classes and the lights went out and no one could really see me hyperventilate. And he told me I wouldn't be doing squats and lunges yet because of my knees...lying bastard.

I did tell him that he has one year to whip my butt into shape though. One year because I refuse to hit 30 in this condition. One year because I'll be getting ready to go to Italy. One year because it's time I start living my life instead of simply observing it. So, ya'll better step aside because if I survive whatever Trainer Guy Todd puts me through next...there will be no stopping me.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Thank you, Lord

My first session with Trainer Guy Todd was a chat. I did a 10 minute warm up but the rest of the time we exerted no energy. My foot thanks him (It hasn't gotten better, probably because I've still been going every day). He did my measurements and I blew into this odd little contraption for 10 minutes and it miraculously figured the calories I should eat in a day. Then we talked about the components of my new little lifestyle. There are 5 as a matter of fact.

Nutrition: In a nutshell, I'm to graze like cattle. Lots of itty bitty meals throughout the day (not to exceed the aforementioned gadget produced calorie tally). I am to write down every single solitary crumb to pass my lips which will then be critiqued by Trainer Guy Todd.

Exercise: Cardio and Resistance. Cardio at least 6 times a week for 30-40 minutes and every other day I'm to toss in some resistance training with it. Apparently one of these days he'll be showing me what I'm supposed to do. He told me he could have me passing out in 10 minutes but he wasn't going to push me that hard. I said I'd appreciate it because I didn't want to pass out in front of so many people. Hmmmm, scratch that, don't wanna pass out alone or otherwise. Then he told me that I could do treadmill for 3 weeks but then I have to switch to something else. Either the bike or the elliptical machine. I briefly mentioned my fear of the elliptical machine. I get the impression he didn't care and I must face my fear. Great.

Supplements: Hmmm, something about caffeine pills and ephedra. Not sure. I'm supposed to take some, that much I know. Gives you more energy, obviously, yeah, it's a blur. Oh and those freaking over the ephedra. Apparently ephedra is fine if following the daily allowance guidelines, which no one does...yes, I asked.

Water: 64+ ounces

Sleep: Lots of it. Now THAT I can do.

So, when I get back from the camping trip on Monday I'm meeting with him again. I don't think I'll be getting off this easy though. I just hope my foot is better cuz I can't go in there looking like a sissy before we've even done anything. For those that were hoping for my dissertation on why all trainers should be savagely beaten...stay tuned. I'm sure it's coming on Monday.

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Insert Rocky music here

I will try my best to type the following blog entry but I have gone to the gym every day this week (but Friday) and even my fingernails hurt. I've discovered muscles I didn't know existed simply because when I move they scream "Freeze you IDIOT." to which I eagerly comply. Today it even seems as though the heel of my foot is bruised but I went to the gym anyway. I went and I worked out longer than ever. I did an hour on the treadmill and started my resistance training when it was time to have my meeting with a trainer.

Monday when I went to the gym I spoke to Trainer Guy Todd. I told him I couldn't sign up that day because I had no money but that I would have a better idea after my spa party Friday night. So, he made me schedule an appointment with him for today. I say he made me because he was doubting that I would come back as he compared me to "others" that have come in asking questions. Well, I'll have none of that. I'm committed damn it, again. You'll not make me look like a slacker before I've even broken a sweat by God.

I had my doubts when I left there that day. My first impression of Trainer Guy Todd was not good. I got the impression that he thought he was better than me and that I was wasting his time because I couldn't hang with the likes of him. I strongly felt that he thought I'd cancel the appointment and be one of those "fat girls" that has a moment of inspiration but never follows through. I think he thought I was lazy.

Well, I came back Tuesday, Wednesday AND Thursday. I watched him strut around the gym and as if I were a wild animal he never made direct eye contact with me as though if he did I might leap off the treadmill and beat him about the head and face (not that I've ever leaped a day in my life but you get the point). I was growing more and more anxious as the days went by. When I was there Thursday I was doin my thang on the treadmill when he got there. An hour later I was leaving and he said "Leaving already?" First words spoken to me since Monday and he's already riding my ass...I hadn't even paid him yet. I said "Already? I was here before you were hon." With no response from the peanut gallery other than him hanging his head I smiled and walked out (almost cabbage patching all the way to my car) proud of myself for not letting the muscle head get the best of the fat girl.

I couldn't go Friday because of work and the spa party and after the spa party I checked my messages and had one from him. It was reminding me of my appointment and telling me to call if I couldn't make it. It was quick and short and reeking of "She's never gonna show." but I went today at 12:30 and got on that treadmill (in excrutiating pain) and I worked it out for an HOUR. He went by a good 10 times as the treadmill I was on was in front of his office. Again, no acknowledgment. Not a head nod, not a wink, not a snicker at my inability to out do the other people in the room. I was beginning to think he didn't even recognize me from Monday. Boy, could I possibly be looking any more forward to this meeting?

I moved on to some resistance training and then it was time. I walked towards his office and he walked out of it with his last client. He DID recognize me because as I got closer he said my name and commented on how long I had been on the treadmill. I quickly pointed out that not only had I been on there an hour but I was on there for an hour with what felt like a bruised heel. Yeah, I'm no sissy. I'm no quitter (yet). We went into his office and he had me fill out paperwork. He didn't seem so very arrogant anymore. He seemed more "Wow. She showed." He asked questions about my current hobbies and activities (or lack there of), about my jobs, my medical history, aches and pains. He even asked about my parent's weight. I told him that they were skinny at one point. He said that'd make my goal easier. That if they had always been big my weight issues would be more genetic and it's a tougher nut to crack. I told him I was born 10 lbs 5 oz. and it went from there. He asked me about my goal weight and when I wanted to reach it. I told him I didn't have a time frame. He asked if the number was what I wanted or if I wanted a specific size or to look like someone famous. He wanted to get a good idea of my goal. I explained that I have NEVER BEEN THIN and that the thought of looking any other way than I do is unfathomable to me.

Then he weighed me (fun) and figured my body fat % (scary) and told me we were going to cut that in half. You go boy with your big aspirations. We cracked jokes, we laughed, we were smart I gave him all my money and he'll be taking more over the next 3 months. I'm paying someone to make me feel in such a way that I'll be wishing I was dead. Yay. We made an appointment for Wednesday and before I left he said he figured he'd see me sometime before then and I said, "Oh, I'll be here tomorrow." and left hearing the theme from Rocky playing in my head.

What in the hell has gotten into me? I've turned into a mad woman. I don't think in all my days that I've ever worked out this many days in one week. When I go tomorrow that will be 6 out of 7 days. Yeah, definitely a record. I've got 23 sessions with Trainer Guy Todd that says I'm going to keep it up too. Well, unless of course he kills me, in which case, I bequeath the rest of my training sessions and Lola to my sister. I'll report back Wednesday provided I can move.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

When is enough REALLY enough?

As little as one hour ago I sat here completely proud of myself. I went to the gym yesterday and not only worked out but spoke with a trainer to find out just how much money I'm going to have to come up with to start working with him. Then I came home and walked Lola. Today I went to the gym again and worked out even longer and harder. I sat down and logged onto my laptop to do the next (long over due) blog entry and decided it was time, again, to go back and read the past entries.

I've done this before and I've felt renewed and remotivated. It didn't have the same effect this time, in fact, it had the complete opposite effect. Instead I sat here fighting back the tears with almost every entry until I couldn't do it anymore and started crying. I'm sooooooo tired of living like this. To have to fight every day to stay on track. To have to meticulously track every single bite of food to make sure I don't eat more than I should. To hate myself every time I eat what everyone else in the room eats with no guilt.

I'm tired of dreading writing my next blog because I'll only be denoting my latest failure instead of my next triumph. My first entries were so energetic and inspiring. I inspired others. Now I'm not even inspiring myself. My attempt at South Beach went terribly wrong. The first week was phenomenal. I lost about 6 pounds. BUT, as I suspected, a person with a food obsession has no business doing a diet like that. I've never craved fruit and fat free yogurt so much in my life. The next week I binged, not only on those things, but on everything I'm not supposed to eat. As did I the next, and the next. I've gained all that back plus 2 more. So, here I am, again reporting another failure.

I know that makes this blog honest. I know that if I only reported the highs and never the lows that no one would be able to relate. Who has ever been inspired to lose weight by someone that just decided to try it one day and succeeded. I'm inspired by women like Oprah who have tried again, and again, and again and have won and lost the battle uncountable times. Look at her now, yet another success. THAT is inspiring. THAT I can relate to.

So here I sit, two weeks shy of 29 years old, wondering when enough is REALLY enough. When will I renew my dedication to lose this weight for the very last time? When will I succeed? Will I succeed? What will happen to me if I don't? When will I be fierce?

Thursday, March 31, 2005

I'm hittin' the beach!

Not one of sand and sun or fun and frolic. No, this is a beach where for two weeks you say goodbye to all carbs, all sugar, all fruit, all alcohol, and all baked goods and then slowly reintroduce fruit and "good" carbs. It sounds about as fun as an ancient Chinese torture chamber but I'm doing it anyway. Yes, damn it, I'm a sheep. I am following the crowd and starting The South Beach Diet!

Tomorrow is the big day THUS I have been eating so much fruit and yogurt and bread the last few days to get it out of my house that I think I just might puke. I've probably gained a good 5 pounds this week saying goodbye to all my old friends (i.e. Starbucks, Taco Bell, Subway, Ben & his ever fabulous cohort Jerry) but never fear because if South Beach works for me the way it has for my mom and dad not only will I shed a lot of weight the next two weeks on Phase 1 but it will mostly come off my ever present gut.

My skinny readers who've only dieted when they wanted to lose 5 pounds for bikini season are probably thinking "For Christ sake, what's the big deal? This girl talks about remotivating herself every other week. Just lose the weight already and shut up." To that I ever so politely reply "F%&@ off, please, because you have no clue what it's like and have a nice day." To those that have been MORBIDLY OBESE (such a lovely term) for the majority of their lives can I get an "AMEN!" please? You all know my plight and have trudged this same path more times than you can probably count. You know that after a while it gets all kinds of boring and you start to give up as you're burdened by the realization that hell just might freeze over before you lose all the weight you're shooting for. It starts to become all you can do to maintain the weight you've lost let alone not gain it all back. I've determined that it's this pivotal point that you need to reaffirm what it is you're trying to do. It's this point, before you've completely sabotaged your efforts, that you need to dig deep and do whatever necessary to get back on the path to your goal. Realize it NOW, before you gain it all back, hate yourself, and have to work up the courage to try it yet again.

So for me it's as simple as this...I have a hell of a long way to go having only lost somewhere around 27 pounds thus far. Operation drop 200 needs some revamping if I'm going to keep it up because to be quite honest, if I count one more damn weight watching point right now I may claw my own eyes out. I will come back to that of the WW but I need a break right now. I need to mix it up and I need a couple of very successful weeks to get me going strong again and I'm hoping these Phase 1 weeks will be those weeks. SO, I'm not going to my Weight Watchers meetings anymore and I'm back on my own. I'll let you know how it goes. Surf's up, ya'll!

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Walk a mile in my shoes...

and you will understand why losing this weight isn't something I can fail at this time. This isn't an optional undertaking. It's not a whim. It's not something I just decided to "try out for a while". It's a last chance, a mission, a lifestyle change. This is my LIFE we are talking about.

My life, that I haven't even LIVED yet. I've been taking a backseat for 28 years. I've been continuously embarrassed just for being who I am. I've been insecure, self-conscious and paranoid that people are always judging me not by the person I am but for the person I appear to be. I hate that there are people that are actually disgusted by me just because of my size and who wouldn't even consider getting to know me just because I weigh too much.

I'm tired all the time and I rarely have any noticeable energy. Though my knees have gotten better since I boycotted high heels they are nothing that a 28 year old should have to deal with. I'm out of breath after one flight of stairs and on the verge of a panic attack going into a restaurant until I know for sure I fit in the booth. I ache to shop at all the trendy clothing stores all my friends shop at but don't even dare to set foot in one knowing it'll only cause more embarrassment.

I want to shop where ever I want. I want to walk out of the house thinking I look cute not just hoping I look a little less fat than usual. I am consumed by my weight and will always be. If it's not by how big and uncomfortable I am it's about what I did or did not do right that day to get me to my goal. And lately, I'm doing very little right which only adds more stress which only makes me do worse which only makes me eat more which only makes me hate myself more which only makes me eat more and...I think you get the point.

So, yet again, it's all or nothing. Do or die...literally. Pre-diabetes did little or nothing to change my ways. It would motivate most people but me, no, it just pissed me off and made me want to crawl in a hole. It made me retaliate by eating what I wanted and deny that it could possibly have happened to me. Well, that's childish and does nothing but write a one way ticket to diabetes. So, it's time to take care of myself not just because I want to wear cute clothes but because I want to live.

I just got a bonus at work and most of it will go towards all the healthy food I need. I'm considering not going to weight watchers meetings anymore to save the money and free up more time, but I know deep down that I need the meetings. However, I need the 48 bucks a month to be able to eat healthy food. So, with a meeting tomorrow night I suppose tonight will be spent making that decision. Meetings or no meetings no one can do this but me and since I'm not successful unless I'm 100% consumed I guess it's time to be obsessive again.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Devil with a green dress

They come to your workplace, they stand post outside your local grocery store, they even stand outside some video stores. Before you know it they'll be outside your gym, taunting you through the window while you crank up the incline on that treadmill. You know who I mean. It's those frickin Girl Scouts and their dagblasted cookies. They're everywhere!

In the event you should triumphantly manage to ward off eye contact with the little crumb snatchers on the way INTO the store you can almost guarantee that they will tag-team you on the way out. You'll flash back to your tortured youth when you too had to sport the badge laden sash and schlep cookies around the neighborhood. You'll sympathize with their plight and just as you pull out your wallet and start to order 5 boxes from the little darlings you see your reflection in the window and start to sweat. You see the Samoas going straight to your butt, the Tagalongs to your thighs and the thin mints...please, that's an oxymoron if ever I did hear one. You clutch your wallet in your arm like a runningback at the Superbowl. Fake left, fake right, you stiff arm the little vixens and RUNNNNNNNNNN!

I can't say I was as successful this year in warding off the aforementioned rosy cheeked saboteurs. A month or more ago the granddaughter of the president of my company came in with puppy dog eyes ablazin'. No pressure there. I was fully out of the zone and 4 boxes later here I sit dreading the day they arrive at the office. Yesterday someone at the office who clearly hadn't mastered their stiff arm technique had all their cookies spread out in the kitchen. I walked in and with clenched fists in the air I screamed "Noooooo!" I took two, tracked my points, and ate them. Evil.

I've decided that when my 4 boxes get here I will immediately put them in the freezer where they will stay for another month before I even let myself have one. Then, if I've been doing well on my diet and if the points allow it, I will treat myself to a COUPLE. Not a box, not an entire roll of thin mints but a COUPLE of cookies.

Monday, February 14, 2005

In the words of Emeril...

it's time to kick it up a notch. I've been slacking...there's no denying it. This 2 pound teeter totter is by no means due to a plateau, no, it's all me. I haven't been keeping track of my points. I haven't been exercising. I haven't been eating healthy. I haven't the zone! Taco Bell and I have become friends again and after re-reading all my blog entries I'm ready to call this self-destructive relationship off. We must go our separate ways...there's no other choice I'm afraid. It's not you, it's me...I just have no self-control. Let Valentine's Day mark the beginning of my renewed devotion to, well, ME!

The bad news? I'm broke, the food in the house is minimal, and I don't get paid for another 4 days. The good news? Well, there is no good news but I'm going to give it a shot anyway. No more screwin’ around people! The vacation is over! Other people have jumped on the Kelly bus and are losing weight too. I can't let them pass me up because I'm a big ol' slacker. There will BE none of that. I've taken a new position at work and once it takes effect I'll get to move around much more instead of sitting at a desk all day. Lola is close to being allowed to go on walks with me. The gym has been calling my name lately and by God I'm going to start answering. I'm going to go in there and bust ass and make them impressed by what this big girl can do. "You go girl's" will be running rampant in that joint.

I miss the days of getting on the scale KNOWING I was going to lose. Now it's a hoping and praying kind of thing because I know I haven't been doing well. Any loss is an act of God not hard work on my part. So, tonight I will go to Weight Watchers, take whatever the scale gives me and know that next week it WILL be down significantly because I WILL have put in the work. Zone or no zone...I will do this. I don't have a choice. I'm tired of being disappointed in myself. A few months ago I was constantly amazed and impressed by the choices I was making and the rewards it gave me. Why does what was so easy for me then seem so hard (again) for me now?

I need a game plan...a plan of attack.

1. Exercise, exercise, exercise!

2. If going certain places makes it easy for me to eat badly, don't go there that often. And if I am going there, eat before I go.

3. Gain an undeniable understanding that whatever food I am about to cave on is going to be there another day. Taco Bell isn't closing it's borders, Ben & Jerry are not refusing to milk another cow and Flying Pie Pizza will be hand-tossing their dough for years to come. By opting to make a good decision and not eat something I'm confronted with one day does not mean I will never get it again. If anything, it'll promise me more years down the road to enjoy those things once in a while. I'll feel much better about myself after turning it down then I will after I eat it and hate myself for giving in.

4. Drink water, drink water, drink water.

4 simple ways to succeed. There are many more things I can do but I think sticking to those 4 things will have me well on my way. So, count today as my last hoorah and tomorrow...I'm back to being a BIG LOSER!!!

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

I did say I would exercise more after the New Year

Can't quite get yourself to the gym? Feeling unmotivated or just a little too tired? Do you find yourself opening the fridge every 10 minutes just because you're bored? Have you tried and tried again to squeeze in time for exercise? Well, when all else fails...get a puppy.

Introducing Lola, my 7 week old Boston Terrier...scratch 4 legged personal trainer. For abs she sacrifices her self-dignity to have me laughing so hard it's got to be the equivalent of 500 sit ups. For cardio she pretends she doesn't know she's supposed to relieve herself in the great outdoors and makes me bolt over to her to then get some squats in while I grab her and race outside which, as I'm sure she well knows, also involves step aerobics. I've never been one for waking up early (let alone getting up to exercise) and she not only has me out of bed to start my day at 5:00 am, but we also get up around 1:00 and 3:00 as well. She's so dedicated. For weight training I carry her around in her pet crate virtually every where I go and we often play a mean game of tug-o-war. As for snacking, I barely have time to eat the 3 squares let alone any snacking. I used to eat a snack at 10:00 am and 3:00 pm at work but since she accompanies me to work there will be none of that because she has me run her outside every chance I get. I do get in a quick meal at lunch though and my dinners are usually pretty small since I start cooking and while I'm chasing after her half my food either burns or, for instance, the steak is done and I haven't even started the rice or broccoli. So, I just eat the steak and call it good. I get the feeling that this is all to get me warmed up for when she's a fully certified trainer (has all her shots) and has me outside footin’ it around the neighborhood.

So, in a way, I have kept my New Year's resolution to exercise more. No, it's not the gym and I know I'm not walking like I should, but for all intents and purposes chasing around a puppy IS more movement than I normally involve myself in. I do intend to walk her quite a bit but she can't go yet, vet's orders. I'm sure I'll find my way back to the gym again but for right now, I'm not ready. I know how crowded it will be with all the New Year's resolution makers and I'm not ready to go fight with a rock hard Barbie lookin princess over a treadmill because, honey, I will snap her like a twig. Anytime my arm is as big as someone's waist there is some built up resentment there and I might unleash it upon them if pushed ever so slightly to the edge. I feel it is in society's best interest if I just wait it out. I'm sure it'll be down to the die-hards anytime now at which time the equipment will be free'd up and I will again have to find another excuse...I mean, and I will be rarin' to go and ready to sweat. Until then, Lola will do just fine.

Tuesday, January 4, 2005

Bah FRICKIN humbug

It has come to my attention that when I triumphed over Thanksgiving and I challenged Christmas to a duel that I may have overstepped my bounds. I think I made Christmas angry because it came with such a determination to destroy my progress that I'm still left awe struck. Christmas is no joke, ya'll, and should not be toyed with.

Let's first address the week of Christmas shall we? Clearly our clients have had a VERY prosperous year because I have never seen so many attempts at ass kissing in all my days. It might be a slight exaggeration to suggest that chocolates, cookies, caramel corn, gift baskets, meat & cheese platters, nuts, and other goodies came in by the TRUCKLOAD but that's sure as hell how it seemed. That entire week I maintained a "Who cares? It's Christmas!" attitude and boy am I paying for it now. I didn't even get on the scale that Friday because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would be an ugly UGLY thing. At the Christmas Eve festivities I didn't do too badly but, then again, I WAS stuffed from all the Taco Bell I had eaten for lunch. I ate so much of my mom's Parmesan Cheeseball on Christmas morning that I'm beginning to wonder if anyone else got any. Oh well, at least I was again too full for the Christmas Feast that followed.

Which brings me to New Year's week. I was on vacation. I had told myself when I started losing weight that if I could do well until my vacation I could treat myself to a lot of the things I hadn't had in so long. Well, treat myself I did. Pizza, chocolate, ice cream (though not my Ben & Jerry's), lots and lots of cake, Burger King, Taco was madness. When I got on the scale last Friday it was time to be accountable for the last two weeks. I gained 5 pounds. FIVE!! But wait, there's more. Over the last 3 days I have gained, according to my not so friendly scale, 6 more. Now, there is some serious water retention goin on but 11 pounds in 2 weeks is just crazy talk. I'm going to have to kick some serious tail to make up for that.

So, what's my plan of attack you might be wondering? It's free to join Weight Watchers meetings right now so I braved the bitter cold weather and the biting wind last night and I made the trek over to my former meeting locale. It was the same leader that I had last time so there was some familiarity there. There was also a lady named Jane who used to help at my old Tuesday night meetings. She was there last night to help weigh in the mass of New Year's Resolution makers. She totally recognized me and made me feel ridiculously welcome. That's a lady who has lost 125 pounds on program and has maintained it for about 3 years. When I made the comment that I was "back again" she said, "Hey, that's ok, I rejoined many times before I finally did it." I didn't feel like such a Weight Watchers flunkie after she said that and I see in her my potential to really succeed on this program.

So, here I sit 4 days into the New Year and I refuse to quit. Just because I backtracked quite a bit doesn't mean I've lost the battle. Hey, what better time to get your first gain out of the way then Christmas? Now I've got extra ammo because I have meetings to weigh in at every week and someone that will be seeing whether or not I'm staying on track. When someone asks me how much weight I've lost AND when I report it here I'm still going to go by morning weigh in's because I refuse to report what me AND my clothes weigh (that's a whole nother level of scary). I might be feeling a little less fierce than usual but I'll get it back, don't you worry.