Tom Dooley and the Obesity gods

Guess what I did yesterday? I weighed in on the hospital scale, and can you guess what it said? 222 pounds. That’s still three pounds higher than a few weeks ago. Ah, bummer, right? Poor me, I should go weigh on another medical scale because this one, it’s wrong.

Cut to me sneaking into an alcove of the emergency room that holds the most often used scale, slip off my scrub coat, my badge, my stethoscope, my shoes, try not to look conspicuous and pray like crazy an ambulance doesn’t arrive and someone comes to get the scale.

222…f..u..d..g..e.

I wan’t some, NOW!

Really? Last week I rode forty-two miles on my bike and  ran 6 miles. I cursed. Oh yes I did girl, yes I did! For the past two weeks I have been lax at work, eating what I wanted but trying to portion things out. I was giving myself a little… breaksy. I had hoped against hope that someone, anyone would bring in doughnuts…no one did. I have passed up the doughnuts for three months and dadblastit I was going to have some. No one brought anything unhealthy.

This weekend I was serious again. No cheating, just good old-fashioned healthy vittles! I had packed my lunch with tomato bisque, salad, peppers, chicken sausage, oatmeal with almonds for breakfast, shakes ready to go for supper and then promptly left it at home.

Then 222 hit me. All that exercise. 222.

Again, cue me, head hanging like Tom Dooley, feeling sorry for myself, I round the corner and like the gods of obesity were in command I see SEVEN $#$@% BAGS OF DOUGHNUTS sitting on the trough.  That’s what we call the place people put food to share with the entire ER. Here’s the best part, the doc that brought em’…sitting in a chair eating her perfectly portioned bag of almonds. Bitch.

Sorry.

Well, I lifted up my head and walked straight by those little nuggets of evil sent by the obesity gods, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and had the best weekend of eating yet! 

 Or…I walked over to those doughnuts and scooby-doo’d more than I care to share on the very public blog. I then went on to continue the self loathing for lunch by having a mystery meat cheesy grilled sandwich, chips, and later ate some of the best little fruit tart cookies off the trough again. Three or four I can’t remember, but at this point, none of it really  matters. I came home and had pizza and salad and ate a pop-tart later when no one was looking.

Shaking head back and forth. Not a good day in the old play book Ro.

About today, what did I do about today? I shook it off, I bounced around in my corner, I pulled out all the no excuses language, I got mad at the obesity gods, I refused to die today. Today I ate:

  1. Two hard-boiled eggs
  2. Spring mix salad, avocado, chicken sausage
  3. I had FOUR tortilla chips from the trough with guacamole I made for one of our docs who is leaving.
  4. Chocolate Shakeology shake before meeting my family at Hunan Garden for Father’s Day dinner.
  5. Three pieces of honey chicken, small serving combo fried rice, one crab rangoon.
And a side of peace and restored self-respect tonight. Feeling sorry for oneself is a dangerous cancer. If I hadn’t been so consumed with silly little numbers I would have been able to keep perspective. Like, it’s a very bad time of the month, for me to weigh, I was still fully clothed and had a huge cup of coffee, and numbers are just numbers. I can’t let them control me that much. I am in this to win this. I cannot allow myself to jump ship because the scale doesn’t move.
Tomorrow I ride and I really can’t wait.
I need some extra accountability and I might try to start a Shakeology 30 Day Challenge and see if anyone wants to join me. I am still proud of how far I’ve come and how far I WILL go. I believe in me. 
Have a blessed night.


Excited to be Obese

Well here goes. I weighed in this morning, lost roughly 12 lb. since February 28. I say roughly because when you hop on and off the scale the way I do, leaning one way, then another, weight on your toes, then on your heels, feet to the outside, then more to the middle, it’s a dance that I do on weigh in morning and I got a difference of 2 lb. between them all, so I’m taking the average. I have done Insanity Mon-Fri, religiously, tracked my calories, and had shakes to replace one meal…most days. I am one month into this process and I am seeing changes. Not only in my body, which is probably where I am seeing the least changes, but also on the inside.

I keep asking myself, is this something you are really willing to do on an ongoing basis?? The first few weeks trudging down to that basement was a chore, it was a grueling, frustrating, all caps, sharpie written task at the top of my to-do list. Now, it’s beginning to look a little more like the rest of my to-do’s, penciled in but still near the top, just under COFFEE.  That’s a good thing for me, it’s not so much this huge change, this exception from the norm, it’s more EDL. (Every Day Life) It’s like a part of the process, getting my day done, I say to myself, Time to go sweat a little lot, and then on to what’s next. So…in that way, I’ve changed. I think, I can actually make exercise a part of my life, maybe not Insanity, forever…but real movement, real exercise. If I were honest, I would love to run. I’m 38, running is probably not the sport a morbidly obese severely obese thirty-something should start, but I feel like I have a few good years left in me, I could probably run out a few of them. I would LOVE to train for this in late October, Zombie Survival Dash.(Nodding head like ahhhh-yeaaahh) 

About other changes. Anxiety. I am seeing someone. Not like seeing seeing but seeing a therapist. Wow, that’s sounds intriguing and this little voice inside my head says with a raised eyebrow and devilish grin, Tell me about it.  Okay, I will, here’s the scoop. One day I was talking to a friend of mine that I love dearly, she’s been a friend since my college days and she sees a therapist and is always talking about what they talk about. So one day I’m like: Hey! Why don’t I have a therapist?! So, I go out and get one, that’s what I do. I figure I might as well do it when I am trying to better myself, trying to let go of this ridiculous obsession with chips and chocolate. I’ve been on this path before, I’ve started this whole go me movement, and I always bail, always quit, this time, it has to be different, it has to stick. So, I did what any self-respecting woman would do, I got a therapist.

Let’s talk about her. Monday I drove up to the office like a bat out of hell, no kidding. I was late because I squeezed in my workout and left myself with 10 minutes to shower and drive 3 miles away, didn’t work out so well. I leapt out of my mini-van I swore I’d never drive and bounced up the steps to the office. I knew we’d have great things to discuss, I was on plan, working out, feeling great! I walked into her office, sat down on the comfy couch and right into her big brown, inviting eyes. Her soft relaxing music played and as she asked me how my week was going I could feel them…yep, the tears, welling up like a little 7-year-old girl who lost her puppy dog. I don’t even know why, she just has that effect on me. I went in to lament about my husband, and didn’t end up saying a word about him. It was all about me. I found myself at the end of session wanting to cry out, “WAIT! YOU HAVEN’T HEARD MY COMPLAINTS ABOUT MY HUSBAND YET!!” I didn’t. It was good, we talked anxiety, my past, why I deserve to do this, and how God wants to heal me for the sake of healing me and nothing else. I walked away feeling whole. I’m glad I got a therapist. I bet my husband is too.

It’s weird putting myself first. I feel like I am really trying to make my life and my quest to eat well and exercise first a priority. I make time for it, if I don’t get the whole house vacuumed and dusted but I got my workout in, so be it. No one outside my perimeter will know and those inside, frankly probably don’t care. The only one who puts extreme pressure on me to have an immaculate home is me, and that’s pretty freaking unfair of her. She’s relaxing a bit.

So, on to month two. Really, my next goal date is 6 weeks from now, that’s my best fren’s wedding, and yes I did spell friend, fren, because that’s the way I like to say it. I really would like to feel comfortable in my own skin and I feel like losing 30 lb. would do that for me. It would enable me to feel empowered and proud of myself when I go back to the ATL. I’ll still be 60 lb. away from goal, and 30 lbs away from being morbidly obese. STOP THE PRESS!!! I just looked up the weight charts for obesity and it seems I have some rather interesting news (there’s that raised eyebrow and devilish grin me again saying do tell!) I’VE NEVER BEEN MORBIDLY OBESE!  (Dripping with red-neck twang) Well…hot damn if this ain’t a reason to celebrate! I’ve only been severely obese ladies and gents, that’s nothing to “Step right up for!” I couldn’t have even been a money-maker in a side-show and that’s something to be right proud of! Seems they added the severely obese cater-gory and I never knew it… (end red-neck twang)

If I lose the additional 18 lb. by May 12, I’ll simply be…Obese. Hallelujah, I can work with that, and who ever thought I would be excited to be “Obese.” Have a blessed day.

The Epitome of Randomness

Ooooo-K. So I really like this blogging thing and find myself thinking about things I want to write about all the time. I just wish I had a little more dedicated time to do just that. But alas, there are only 24 hours in a day and I find myself squeezing in a little keyboard time, usually at the end of it. Even now as I listen to the sound of my husbands humming sonicare and then the toilet flushing, and so as not to gross you out, the final hand-washing, I am being waited for. We have a movie to watch but I gotta throw some words into the “internets.” I will throw them softly even though usually I want to launch them with the proverbial trebuchet.

There’s a lot going on in the news which bothers me. This whole Trayvon Martin incident and the fact that skittles are the new gang sign should have most of us wanting to have long, drawn out sit-downs with our boys. It’s a cruel world out there, and while I don’t profess to know all the details I will say, “I smell a rat.” Tonight a friend posted something on her Facebook that went like this:

-“i don’t watch the news…those stories keep me up at night–injustice rubs my soul raw. when i heard about treyvon martin’s death it brought me to my feet and left me with no where to go…but i’m afraid for my soul if i change nothing but my fb status update… {Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. — Martin Luther King Jr.}”

I thought that was very apropos, I’ve posted some stuff on my Facebook about it, so what next? I’ve read a lot of articles about it, I’m sad for his family. That’s all I have to say about it for now…sometimes, I just wished things were different, and I know I want to do my part to make this world a better place. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference- An exerpt from the serenity prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr.

So about changes, let me tell you wazz up with me. I am here, I am alive and I am feeling more since eating less. Is that what it boils down to? Is emotional stuffing eating all about forgetting circumstances? Is it a way to escape pain? Is food the socially acceptable crack, passed around in bible studies and block parties, peddled in gargantuan portions at American restaurants on any given evening? Are we numbing our nerves and calming our minds as we blindly eat upwards of 2,000 calories a meal?

If so, it’s a shame. A shame that a neighboring community has to enroll children in the back snack program for the weekends because momma can’t work it out enough to feed the hungry mouths she’s brought into this world. Or maybe that momma has chosen a different vice other than food, maybe she actually uses crack and that’s where the money goes, along with her dignity. How does it make you feel when you see a mother, a strung out crack addicted mother that is not caring for her children because of her preoccupation with her own addiction? Now contrast that with a mother in a grocery store or fast food restaurant that is clearly morbidly obese, and seemingly on a mission to coin a more intense description of her size? I can tell you that if she is in her pain and using food to soothe her aching soul, the children from both families are probably suffering parallel emotional distress. Back to my original point, one community has trouble feeding the family, the next can’t see the back of the pantry for all the food.

All that being said. I don’t know where the hell I’m going with this post. HA! I just sat here and started writing so if you’re reading this I sincerely hope you didn’t have any pre-conceived notions about the enlightenment you were about to be afforded. Maybe I just vomited into the internets instead of gracefully lobbing my words at you. Ah well, there’s always next time.

I am still on the wagon. Eating well for hunger, not for other reasons. I am learning how to have a new relationship with food. It’s there to nourish me and so I make better decisions, except that I am a recovering chip addict and right now the salty crunch in a Funyun has me rethinking my game. It’s the lowest calorie chip I can find and if I can fit that 180 cals into my daily grind an still work this plan I think I will die happy. It’s yet to be determined and if my trainer reads this there will be hell to pay. Otherwise, all’s well in the land of my fitness pal. Still grinding away at the Insanity, I’ve completed 3.5 weeks and I love the feeling of sweat running down the back of my neck. I’ve come to terms with the messy bun high on the back of my head every day after my shower, in fact, I’ve developed quite an affinity for the look.

Hubs is yawning, it’s his way of saying push play or I’m signing off…gotta go…to bed hungry, and that’s…ok.

Finding Moderation

Before I, “enter title here,” I always write first. When I am done writing, then I will know what to entitle the post. As for any direction this is headed, I have no idea, I am just writing to write at this point so I’ll start with my dietary intake for this, the thirteenth day of March, two-thousand eleven.

I woke up and had two pieces of peanut butter toast and coffee with hazelnut cream, oh yeah, this, was the highlight of my nutritional day. I  had cottage cheese and cantaloup with some cheddar cheese and ham on whole wheat crackers at a meeting this afternoon. Got busy and didn’t get supper, so now I am drinking a shake. It’s too late to be drinking a shake, it’s a nutritional, protein shake but man, it’s too late. I have a weigh in tomorrow and frankly, I like to have my food done by 6 pm before a weigh in. Oh well. I have to, have to, have to get in a minimum number of calories. The shake puts me at 1200, which is too low, and I know it. The experts keep saying if you don’t get enough calories you will put your body into starvation mode. Lol, I only buy this for awhile, because sooner or later your body will adapt. But, I accept it as truth and have been really trying to stay right about 1600 calories. Again for me, it’s either 1,000 or 3,000. Remember the intensity vs hardcore complacency theme.

So tomorrow is a weigh in day. I lost 5 lb. my first week and I’m not sure what to expect tomorrow. I’ve been working out, eating right, or eating better, and if  I get a really low number, I am afraid I will be disappointed and turn to food for comfort. That’s usually how my playbook reads. But, I am editing the book so all bets are off. I am doing good things for me, and even a 1 lb. loss will be good for me. Here is where the rubber hits the road. I can’t turn to food for comfort, food has stolen the best part of me. I press on, no matter what the number says. Tonight, the number in my heart says I have tried hard, it says I am worth these changes, it says slow and steady wins the race. And, when I have crossed the finish line I will continue to believe that the lifestyle I have adopted is worth continuing. I want to do this, if for no other reason than to role model good choices to my kids, for the way it feels at the checkout lane when my cart is full of fresh and healthy foods and I’m salivating over the way I am going to prepare that asparagus, and roast that whole chicken. This is a good thing. It’s not so big that it will take over my life, but big enough to change it. I will focus on my blessings, my family, and my God.

Finding Moderation. That’s it. That’s the title. I want to find moderation and examine the part of me that resists it. I will pry open that ugly place and fill it with asparagus, but only one succulent serving at a time.

Perspective

Bah. Here’s what I woke up with, the doldrums baby. Two days without exercise, exceeding my calorie limit last night at a Mexican restaurant even when eating no cheese, no guac, and choosing soup, minus the tortillas, had me sullen and discouraged. I’ve been thinking a lot, about calories, about exercise, about the role of food in my life and why it’s so hard to lose weight. I read a girls blog about losing weight the other day, and at the end of one particular post, about a day in which she ate too much, came the heart-wrenching comment, “I hate myself, I hate my (expletive) self, I hate myself.” I was saddened for her, but I could relate. It was a raw emotion that she courageously shared with the world, and I asked myself, “Why is this such a huge problem for so many women?”

I saw a dear friends Facebook status this morning, she posted, “Trying to get motivated to start eating healthy and working out again! I know what I need to do to get fit, but feel like my mind is not in it!!” This friend is one that I admire, she is self-controlled about food, has lost 40 lbs or so and kept it off, she encourages me, and so I called her, because I felt the same. We ended up encouraging one another, but there were some real questions we both had about weight. For instance, why, when we look back at our lives and remember a time when we were successful at losing weight or maintaining a healthy weight, do we remember feeling dissatisfied about ourselves? It seems like there is no arrival place when it comes to women and a state of positive body image.

I started to think more about this and wondered about the inner man. Could it be that we are feeding the inner man, the spiritual man (woman) with one of two things??  We all, save a small percent, feed our spirit with either the loss of weight/idolatry OR the indulgence of food. We were created to love and live with a passionate heart and so many times it gets lost in the world of food. We hide there, from the past, from the future, from ourselves. It is a journey, a hard journey, and we must first master the art of just being, before we can master the art of moderation and food. Food has to become a benign parallel in our lives. The bu guan xin, a spiritual indifference, literally meaning, “no relationship to the heart.” That is my journey. At any weight, I want my joy to be in LIFE, in GOD, in FAMILY, in things that last. Our satisfaction should be drawn from a deeper place.

What does this cost me? I could come up with a millions excuses not to do this. 

-Morbid obesity runs rampant in my family, it’s in my genes.

-Food is much too comforting to lose. (scary)

-It’s going to be too hard to watch everything I eat.

-I’m happy, I don’t need to lose weight to be happy. (lie)

-Statistics don’t lie:

“By some estimates, more than 80 percent of people who have lost weight regain all of it, or more, after two years. Researchers at the University of California at Los Angeles analyzed 31 long-term diet studies and found that about two-thirds of dieters regained more weight within four or five years than they initially lost.” -Gretchen Voss Women’s Health Magazine. 

Two-thirds. UGH. I don’t like that. I very strongly dislike that. I have to believe that again, if I’m not trying, I’m dying. I also have to believe that losing weight is NOT the end goal. The end goal for me, is to find that place where food’s comfort is no longer a source for me. A source of anything other than energy to be whatever it was I was put here on earth for. Bu guan xin, I become indifferent to it, there is no relationship to my heart. I hope that as I lose I will also grow, in spirit and courage. I will learn to live without the need for overindulgence, I will lose weight and learn to live more independently of empty things. So that when I get near my goal weight I won’t be left empty…without the loss of weight to reward me, nor the indulgence to appease me. I will be ok, I will just BE. This, is my prayer.