So long January!

This month has been so weird.  There's been some crap for sure - like the miserably terrible weather.  If I ever had doubts about moving away from this place it disappeared this month.  BTW we're kind of focused on Austin, Texas - any readers out there from Austin?

Anyway, between weighing in again, attempting to write this blog and focusing for more than - well 6 minutes - on eating right, I'm feeling.... different.  Things are changing.  Let's get real, it's been a whole month (big fat hairy deal) but I'm hoping that how I feel produces results and continues.

This being good during the week and relaxing on the weekend is working.  There is still the temptation during the week - I've stared longingly at cookies in meetings and peanut butter in my cabinets more than once - but it's easier to say no.  So far giving myself latitude on the weekend hasn't led my to go completely nuts.  And, guess what?  The negative self talk - how much I suck, what a fat loser I am - it's not gone but it's much quieter.

On the exercise front, how many times have I talked about how running every day is not healthy?  And all of a sudden I find myself here on January 31st having run 30 days this month - daily since the 4th.  For a total of 155 miles.  Now most of these miles were on the treadmill and slow - which might explain why I'm not in any pain or nursing an injury.  Combine these miles with the 300+ I did this month on the bike trainer and yet I'm not exhausted all the time.  In fact my energy level is great!

I'm even wondering if I could run another 1/2 marathon this year.  Between my weight gain and injuries, that seemed impossible which has been incredibly depressing and demoralizing.  We'll see what happens when (IF!!!) this fucking winter ever goes away and I can run outside consistently.  

Optimism??? Is that really you my old friend? It's been a long time.

If I can keep this up, 2018 might be a very good year!!

Rationalization or being rational?

When I decided to buckle down on myself a couple of weeks ago and make a renewed commitment to weight loss, in the midst of my behaviors that would no longer be tolerated, there was also the agreement with myself that the weekends would be much more relaxed.

Now the experts say that one cheat MEAL is enough.  Some people have a full cheat day.  But no where in the rule book does it say a cheat weekend is okay.  Except the book that I am writing.

Now first let me clarify what I mean by "cheat". It does not mean eating anything I want in the amount that I want.  It's not like I ate a gallon of ice cream, 12 oreos and washed it down with Mountain Dew!  

I did however eat a bagel slathered in peanut butter.  I also made brownies.  Skinny peanut butter brownies that contained no flour, used a sugar substitute of baking truvia, and the chocolate flvor came from cocoa powder.  Not as bad as real brownies, but probably not the star of clean eating, either.

I also exercised more as I usually do on the weekends.  But when I stepped on the scale this morning I told myself that at this rate, i should get back down to my goal weight when I'm roughly 58 years old!!

I keep asking myself what my goals are.  Let's be realistic I tell myself - I'm not trying to be a fitness model.  And while I'd like to be in the category I was a few years ago with my running - easily running under 8 minute miles and crushing races, I'm never going to be an elite athlete.

So if I decided to stop giving myself the weekends relatively free and was more self-discliplined, I would probably lose weight faster.  Which I absolutely needed to do 8 years ago when, at 344 pounds, I was in the red line danger zone.

I now fall into the category of 

Not sure what color that is...

But I do know that last night I didn't feel intimdated or depressed about getting back  to the "work week rules".  Time will tell if this strategy works both mentally and physically.  The scale was up today, we'll see what happens over the week.

So is this a rational plan or am I rationalizing eating like a pig??

The showdown

It has been 1 whole week since I finally stood on the scale.  And, of course, every day this week my weight as fluctuated up and down.  So when I stood in front of that heartless piece of equipment this morning, I glared at it and sent mental signals to it, letting it know that it better not mess me with me.

I had extremely stressful week.  Despite the challenges I stayed virtually 100% on plan.  It wasn't easy, I'll be honest.  Part of it I'm realizing is just complete habit - like the smoker grabbing a pack of smokes and lighting up first thing in the morning, I had gotten in the very bad habit of coming home and plowing through a bunch of food before I even changed out of my work clothes.

Which, if it was a snack of a handful of baby carrots wouldn't be so bad - but scooping out spoonful after spoonful of peanut butter and inhaling it doesn't exactly benefit a person in the weightloss battle.  

But some of it is learning that the reality again of just learning to live with hunger again.  To realize that I can feel hungry and that's not something that needs IMMEDIATE attention.  

But hunger is not, for me anyway, a pleasant feeling.  So yesterday afternoon, after eating a perfectly reasonable lunch but still feeling hungry, I had myself half convinced that it was perfectly acceptable to go in the break room, where some powdered donuts sat and to eat "only half" of a donut and that somehow would still be keeping to my promise to myself of sticking to plan.

When I managed to get out the door without having eaten any part of a donut, I arrived home and Fat Jen calmly explained to me that as a reward for having so much self contol, I was entitled to some peanut butter.

Sigh...

Back to this morning - standing in front of the scale - having spent 4 whole days sans peanut butter and having shunned the donuts, I demanded to be rewarded.

1 pound down.

At the exact time, I felt some satisfaction and some fury.  Yes, a pound down is a pound down.  But the other part of me screamed "Are you fucking kidding me? 1 measley ass pound??"

No I Won't Do That.

It wan't all that long ago when someone was talking to me about wanting to lose weight.  He had previously gotten some news from his doctor about how he was heading straight into major medical issues and a certain early death.  This had scared him briefly into eating right and attempting to exercise.  He had lost weight but began abandoning those healthy practices and had regained what he lost and, like so many do, put on even more.

This guy is relatively young, but is quite large and has a genetic history that sets him up for a pretty shitty prognosis.  His genetics he can't control, so the cards were stacked against him and being morbidly obese really puts a bullseye on him.

He shared with me that he knows that he knew he needed to lose weight but "I'm not going to eat like a damn rabbit the rest of my life!  I can't just sit around eating lettuce and carrots, you know?!"

"Well then," I said, "looks like you're going to stay fat!"

As soon as those words left my mouth I wanted to take them back.  Because I instantly realized how bitchy and judgemental that sounded.  And I truly didn't mean it that way.

I was projecting the anger I still have against myself onto this guy.  It took me 38 years to get my head out of my ass.  To realize that I was murdering myself one disgusting forkful at a time.

I had all kinds of conditions and excuses.  I wasn't giving up Mountain Dew, no way, after all that sweet nectar got me through college!  And sweets?  I deserved a dessert at night, right?  Exercise? No way was I going to run! Running is for idiots and besides, I have pulmonary stenosis that makes it harder for me to breathe when my heart rate soars than a regular person.

Poor me.  These were all the things I would not do to get healthy.  Funny, you never once heard me say what I would do.  That's because I was only willing to sit on my ass eating crap food waiting for doctors to discover an invention that allowed me to continue that behavior and get to a healthy weight.

But now I see it from the other side.  Yes, it took and continues to take tremendous efforts and sacrifice to not be obese.  But the payoff is so worth it.  Even with the stuggles I go through my life is so much better now.  And I have such regrets.  What if I had been a normal weight at age 18? Or 22 or 25 or 32???  How much more full my life would have been.

So I was frustrated with this guy, because every year that passes, every additional pound that he puts on - it gets harder and harder to take it off.  I want him to do it NOW to not wait until he starts really suffering serious physical health issues.

But I can't do this for him - and I can't insult or bully him into changing.  No one could do it to me years ago or now - when I know what I need to do and don't.

I can be an example.  I can help educate.  And hope that one day the light bulb turns on like mine did!!  He'll learn - rabbit food ain't so bad!!

Oh, look! Some control!

The last few days have marked a return to the old me.  Not the old, old me - the one that was obese and depressed, but the old me that made life changes and lost weight.

I have been getting on the scale every morning - something that once was an absolute morning ritual but I haven't done in a very long time.  Each time it hurts a little, to see a number that quite honestly I never thought I would see again, but I think it is keeping me accountable.

Somewhere along the line I convinced myself that running an hour on the treadmill entitled me to finish and then stuff my face with food - before dinner, mind you - only to then feel guilty that I had done it and wish I could take it back.  

Repeat the insanity the next day!

I am trying to change that pattern - acknowleging the hunger and telling myself that hunger does not need to be satiated immediately and urgently.  The part of me that demands instant gratification resists that idea.  But sitting down to a good dinner that I earned and didn't spoil has its own measure of gratification.

It's early, and it's baby steps certainly.  

All the Small Things

At one time a few years ago I was very rigid about what I would consider a victory in terms of weight loss and fitness. If I lost 1 pound over a week, that was a FAILURE. I needed to lose at least 3 pounds over the course of a week for me to consider that I was successful. When I was running, it was unacceptable to just run 30 seconds more than the day before. I had to much run further and/or faster. And one diversion from my rigid eating schedule meant that the entire week was shot.

That worked. I mean, I lost the weight, right? But like many of my strategies it became unsustainable. Maybe because of my own lack of willpower but I certainly couldn’t keep it up and now I find myself where I am.

So I’ve been trying to find a place where I can accept small accomplishments and still consider them victories and be okay with that.

It was about 2 months ago, right before Thanksgiving when I sat in Urgent Care, the inside of my ankle having turned into a swollen and painful mess. Every step hurt. As the doctor gently placed the air cast on me and I was fighting off tears, she told me to cut myself a break - take some time off from running, let yourself heal - after all, she told me, it was the holiday season.

I told her that this is what made it worse - not being able to run during the toughest time of year as far as eating goes - at least for me. She basically told me there was absolutely no alternative - I had to rest it or it simply wouldn’t heal.

Fast forward to today - 2 months later. My goal for this week - not even a full week, mind you, because of the Martin Luther King Day holiday - was to stay out of the peanut butter. Peanut butter was the one thing for this work week that was 100% off limits. It seems ridiculous, doesn’t it? To have an actual goal to avoid 1 food.  Not stuffing myself with peanut butter every night should be a no-brainer. But for me, this is an absolute challenge. If I can make it through the rest of tonight I will have achieved that little tiny - and yet monumentous - goal.

I also have been able to run pain free. Slowly and on the treadmill, but I’m putting in the miles. 86 so far this month. My longest run has been 10 miles - a far cry from what I used to do for a “long run”. And so much slower than a few year ago. But still, if I’m keeping up a high heart rate for an hour, it might not make me a stellar runner, but it’s burning the calories, right?

Since I was feeling flush with these “victories” this morning I decided to get on the scale. The last time I stepped on a scale was that Urgent Care visit 2 months ago. The screen read about 2.5 pounds lower. Did I actually lose 2 pounds from then? Who knows given the variation from scale to scale, the time of day, etc. But just stepping on that scale was a big deal since I’ve been so scared to do it for so long. And knowing that I didn’t gain a massive amount since the last time I weighed in was a huge relief. Although the number made me cringe, it hasn’t set me on a downward spiral and depression - at least not yet.

Don’t get me wrong - I have a LOT of work still to do. But having small goals - and letting myself feel good about achieving them - no matter how insignificant they may seem - seems to be a strategy that can work for me - both physically and mentally...

This Is Us…

Do you guys watch this show?  If not, you should start, right. now.  I was late to the game.  I didn’t watch the first season even though people were raving about it.  But then I saw that the NBC app had the whole first season and one day while on the treadmill I decided to try it.  I wasn’t hooked immediately, but I soon became a This is Us fan-girl.

By the way – I plan to talk about some things from the last couple of episodes, so if you watch but haven’t caught up on the DVR you might want to skip this post.

When I heard about the show, I knew there was a heavy woman on there played by Chrissy Metz.  I had only half paid attention, so I thought that she was heavy the way Melissa McCarthy was heavy when she started on Mike & Molly.  I was surprised when I started watching to see that she was very morbidly obese and was interested to see how the show handled that.  Shockingly accurately and sensitively it turns out.

The show jumps in time, and I was “happy” that a show finally showed someone who evolved from a fat child to a fat adult.  Usually it’s the fat girl who gets thin as an adult and shoves it in the face of those she knew in the past OR the exact opposite – the always thin and hot girl who “let herself go” and is struggling.

No, this shows the humiliation of being fat as a child and the cruelty of other children – an experience that I know well.  Showing a young girl who has a thin and beautiful mother who loves her but deep down can’t identify with her chunky kid.

As an adult, the character Kate, explores the realms of the horrific struggle to lose weight and the emotional baggage that goes along with it.

We’ve seen Kate give her all to weight loss – reluctantly refusing desserts and killing herself on the elliptical only to drop less than a pound while her boyfriend Toby eats a salad for 1 meal and drops 6 pounds.

We’ve seen her insulted by someone - telling her she has no singing talent – and her being almost thrilled that she was rejected not for being fat, but for sucking.

We’ve seen Kate in an emotional crisis – sitting in her car – stuffing donuts in her face.  Disgusted and ashamed with herself but continuing to do it.

In the last episode, what should be a thrilling experience – buying a wedding dress – was shown to be a worrisome and stressful event – because when you’re fat, finding a beautiful dress that fits would be amazing.  Finding one that fits and is beautiful would be nothing short of a miracle.

SOUND FAMILIAR? 

It sure does to me. 

Recently Kate suffered a miscarriage.  While there is no way to know what caused it, especially since is was early on, the show had her bravely acknowledge that her weight could have – probably did play a role. 

Her brother, Kevin, who was in rehab, did not want to hurt her, but had to confront her that her morbid obesity was as related to to her father being an alcoholic as his  own pill addiction.  Of course she knew this, but having it put out there cut her to the bone.

After the miscarriage, Kate’s boyfriend, Toby,  accidentally dropped the trash bag while taking it out of the house.  From the bottom spilled an empty snack cake box and an empty KFC fried chicken box.  He looked at it shocked.  Shocked that Kate was eating this food sure, but clearly more shocked that she was hiding it.

I was running on the treadmill while watching this, and as the camera paused on his stunned face, as he tried to process, I felt this intense tightening of my chest and a deep sense of guilt and shame.  I seriously lost a few steps and almost found myself slammed into the concrete wall behind me.  Because I knew this.  I had done this.  Not exactly the same thing but close enough.  Wayyyy close enough.

And I thought about something that had happened just a few months ago.  My co-worker came in to talk to me and sat in a chair happily munching down a small bag of M & M’s.  When she finished, she did what anyone would do – she tossed the empty bag in the trash.

After she left, I did what a NON NORMAL human would do.  Almost without thinking I took out some papers moving the empty candy wrapper to the bottom of the basket so that no one would see that wrapper and think that I ate them.

Batshit crazy, right?  Like the custodial guys would notice or if they noticed they would give a crap that I had eaten some M&M’s.  But that sense of shame runs scarily deep.  Eating in secret, hiding the evidence - it's part of a sickness.

I love that we have a show on now that is addressing obesity with sensitivity and a lack of judgement.  We don’t see that very much – by and large we don’t mock and make fun of gays or minorities or the disabled on mainstream television any more – but fatties remain fair game.  Or they are sidekicks, not real people.

And I have to hand it to Chrissy Metz.  There is no doubt that some of this stuff hits pretty close to home for her personally and to play it out on TV for America has to be incredibly challenging at times.  I don’t know that I would have the balls to do it.

It almost feels groundbreaking to me.  Kudos to the writers and everyone involved with the show. 

If that plot isn’t enough to entice you, the brilliant  acting by Sterling K. Brown should.  There are no words to describe how breathtakingly good he is on this show.  And, as an added bonus, he is a runner – on the show and in real life.

So I command you – begin binge watching immediately if you haven’t started and for those of you who are already doing so, hold on tight and keep the tissues handy.