Every Day a Holiday

If you're like me and have gone somewhat public with your weight loss efforts, there are many around you who are very much aware of the changes you're trying to make.  They know you're cutting calories and making every attempt to avoid overindulgence in rich, fattening foods.  What they DON'T know is how hard it is to get back on the wagon when you fall off.  What they DON'T know is the guilt you feel when you eat too much, or have that donut you promised yourself you wouldn't touch, and how that guilt torments you and discourages you and spirals you toward more bad choices.  This would, at least in part, explain why they, with no ill intentions, continually enable you by saying things like:

"Just put your diet on hold for today.  It's a special occasion."

"It's your birthday! Go for it!"

"Come on, it's Christmas. One bad day won't kill you."

Perhaps not.  The problem is, in a society that centers every celebration around food, there's no such thing as just ONE bad day.  Every day is a birthday, Christmas, a family get together, an office lunch meeting, a night out with friends, a church party, a holiday dinner of some sort.   So what does that leave us poor dieters?  A couple Tuesdays per month, I think.

Food addiction is like any other addiction in that one day WILL kill you, or at least kill your progress and efforts.  I can't think of any reasonably kind human being who would tell a recovering alcoholic, "Hey, it's your birthday ... drink it up, old girl!  It's only one day!"   Yet we food-a-holics don't receive the same degree of sensitivity to our struggles.

Of course, ultimately it's not anyone's fault but mine if I go for that forbidden donut.  No one picked it up and shoved it down my pie hole.  I have to be the one to quit telling myself that one day isn't going to hurt anything, or that I can pig out tonight and start (AGAIN) tomorrow.   If I eat now, I can pay later, right?  I'll be extra good tomorrow (or on Monday) so that I can be extra bad right now and get that instant fix.

No more "eat now, pay later" for me.  No more borrowing from tomorrow so I can splurge today.  Yes, there will be the OCCASIONAL indulgences.  Life needs balance.  But I've borrowed against too many tomorrows that never came.  The time to take care of myself is NOW. Not after the holidays or the parties or the dinner dates. Those events will always be there, calling my name, assuring me that "this one time won't hurt anything," until one time turns into two, then three, then weeks, months , years.

How do YOU get through all of those "special" days and stay on track?

Brains are jerks

Weight loss is a tricky thing.  If it were only about calories in vs. calories out, everyone could do it--easy peasy.  There wouldn't be a gazillion and a half blogs out there dedicated to this very subject, written by people who fight and scratch and claw week after week just to see the smallest change on their bathroom scales.  When we come across someone for whom it DOES seem to be easy, we are fascinated by that person.  Inspired by him.  Motivated.  For a few brief moments as we read his story, we become determined that his story will be OUR story.  We wake up the next morning, overflowing with a newly-charged desire to wipe out months, years, or even a lifetime (in my case) of really crappy habits.

Then ... life happens.

Stress. Temptation. Holidays. Birthdays. Vacations. Emotions.  We reach for food for entertainment.  For comfort.  For nourishment.  For socializing.  For pleasure.

Weight loss, for the 99% of us, is about so much more than calories.  Of course, at the end of the day, it's the math that really matters.  Burn more than you consume.  But there's this pesky, annoying organ resting atop each of our shoulders known as our brains that likes to mess with our efforts.  It tells us we've failed more than we've ever succeeded, so we may as well accept our lot.  It tells us we're tired and stressed and we deserve to veg on the couch and gnaw on a piece--or four--of cold fried chicken.  It stores every insult that was ever hurled our way, every homecoming dance we didn't get asked to, every biggest size on the rack that still didn't fit.  Brains are big, fat, mean jerks.

Stupid brains.

My brain is no exception.  It's a bully.  But bullies are only as strong as their victims allow them to be.  I've been a wimp.  My brain's been pushing me around a lot, for many years.   It's my fear of having to confront my brain that has kept me from writing in this blog and doing what I KNOW I need to do in order to change my body and my health.   I know what's swirling around in my crazy noggin.  I just don't want to deal with it.

But I need to.  When I started this blog, I did it mainly for the accountability, but also for the therapeutic value.   For a while, when I was consistent, it worked.  I had success and saw results that I felt good about.  Then I got busy and failed to check in here regularly.  No therapy, no accountability.  I slipped.  When I slip, I have a pattern of going on the hunt for the next great fat cure.  Despite knowing what works, I start looking for a gym, a group, a book, a trainer, a blog, a diet that will be my magic bullet.  It's my way of avoiding the big, mean bully who's waiting around the corner to pants me and shove me into a locker. 

Stupid brain.

I'm back on the blog now because it works.  It combines the two things I need most for my own good: therapy and accountability.  I wish it were as easy peasy for me as ONLY counting calories.  It just isn't. I have to fight the food battle AND take down a bully.  

The Tortoise vs. Despair

When I wrote that last post, I may have been feeling a bit on the neurotic side.

Don't judge me.

Taking a trip to (or becoming the mayor of?) the dark side of Emotionallyunstableville helped me to come to some very healthy realizations:

1.  I've been working out too hard for too long for too disappointing results
2. Rome was not built in a day.  Getting discouraged and giving up after one week is immature and self-defeating.  I know, duh.
3.  I'm not doing this for a number on the scale.  I'm doing it for overall health and fitness and quality of life.
4.  Diet is the end all beat all.  "Lose weight in the kitchen, get fit in the gym."

 I've had a few "Come to Jesus" moments over the last few weeks.  I'm starting to get it. What I've figured out is that I have been using exercise as a way to punish my body for being "bad."
As in ...

• Eat the Taco Bell, do a gazillion push-ups until your right arm screams "UNCLE" in the form of wicked tendonitis.  
• Scarf down that jamoca milkshake, run on the treadmill 'til your injured foot is begging you for mercy. 
• Overindulge on homemade bread, do squats until your hip goes from a happy 40 years old to an angry, bitter 90-years-old-and-in-a-nursing-home.  

Ate that burrito, did ya?  Take THAT!

I was trying to outrun my bouts of bad eating with my 6-days-per-week-4:30-in-the-morning exercise routine.  WRONG.

But then, when I'd have a good week or so of eating really well and that blasted scale wouldn't say what I wanted--no, desperately NEEDED--it to say, I'd cry, call it very bad names using words that no good Mormon girl should ever utter, then head to the drive-thru to show it a thing or two about who's boss.

Who's the boss, you ask?  That'd be discouragement.  It's been bossing me around a lot lately.  Well, that and the scale.  The scale has been sucking my mojo for years now.  I guess that means the scale sucks.  Yeah boy it does.

Now, having joined this Biggest Loser competition, the scale will and must be a factor to consider.  So far, I'm down six pounds from the initial weigh-in a few weeks ago.  I'll take that.  It's better than a purple nurple or a stick in the eye--or both--at the same time.  Weighing in at the gym once per week keeps me accountable.  I need that.  It's a good thing.

What I do NOT need is to continue to beat myself up (mentally AND physically) day after day, week after week and to keep giving up and starting over again and again.  I have been working out really hard for a long time.  Lots of weights, lots of cardio, lots of hurt, lots of pounds gained (what?), and recently, lots of injuries that are causing me lots of grief.  I'm no math genius, but that equation seems a little off to me.

The plan now is to take care of my body rather than punishing it.  To give it what it needs to be healthy, like good food and beneficial exercise.  To have BALANCE.  Over the past few weeks, I have been focusing on eating REAL food.  I bought a juicer.  I've been replacing meals here and there with freshly juiced veggies and fruit.  I have been incorporating more "rest" days into my workout routine every week.  Sunday is my day off.  Three days per week I go hard with lots of weights and cardio.  The other three days, I do 20 minutes on the tread, but nothing brutal.  Just moving the bod.

Doing this, the weight loss is and will be slow, but I am learning to be good with that.  Impatience and wanting change RIGHT NOW have not served me well. That mindset has created frustration and the desire to repeatedly give up.  Taking things more slowly, I am keeping my sanity and I haven't said a single swear word, at least at the scale, for a good week or more.

Having let go of my obsession with the scale and with punishing myself, my attitude is much better.  I feel better about what I'm doing and where I'm headed.  And I'm OK with the tortoise-like pace at which I'm doing it.  I don't need to lose 10 pounds by next Thursday.  I don't need to run a 5k next week or even next month.  It'd be nice, but it's not my reality.  I'm going in the right direction and so is the scale, slowly but surely.

Now THAT's progress.

What has been YOUR a-ha moment?  What have you changed in your routine mentally and/or physically that has helped you have the best results?

Losing at The Biggest Loser

Hi.  Remember me?   That girl who was gonna kick fat's butt and leave it crying like a girl in a wrung out heap on the gym floor?

Funny how even the grandest and worthiest of intentions can get flung to the wayside.  But then again, when it comes to getting healthy and losing weight, this is the story of my life.  Get sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, feel motivated and determined to make big changes, tell the world "This is IT!," go hard core for a week or two, see no results because my body fights me at every turn, get mad and discouraged and frustrated and throw my chubby hands up in the air and eat an entire pizza.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

Warning:  If you don't find whining and sniveling attractive, today's blog post may not be up your alley.  Consider yourself warned.

Resume whining and sniveling in 3, 2, 1 ...

My most recent onset of the "This is it!" disorder struck me a few weeks ago when I heard of a local gym that was sponsoring a Biggest Loser competition, complete with a trainer, a team, team workouts, team challenges, weigh-ins, and full access to the gym for the full 12 weeks of the competition.  The most appealing aspect of this competition to me?  ACCOUNTABILITY.  Knowing that I have a team counting on me and that my numbers will be posted for everyone to see are key.  WAY key.  So, I handed over the $250 last Monday night, stepped on the scale (GAH!), and began a week of hard workouts and perfect eating.   Knowing how hard and how often I'd worked out this week and how many times I'd watched my family eat the "good" food while I ate the spinach greens and chicken breast or egg whites, I was SOOOO excited to get on that scale this morning for that second weigh-in, the one that was going to blow them away because it was so awesomely awesome.  I braced myself for the look of shock on the skinny gym receptionist chick's face when she saw how much weight I'd lost.  I was ready to feel that sense of accomplishment and victory, not to mention putting everyone else to shame with my jaw-dropping results.

And the results:   0.  ZERO pounds lost.  Not even one or two.  Just zero.  Followed by me grabbing my complimentary Biggest Loser gym bag and my shoes and rushing out to my car before anyone could see me burst into tears.

Why?  Why am I doing this?  Why am I writing down every last morsel that I eat, obsessing over every bite of food that goes into my mouth, balancing proteins and good carbs and fruits and veggies and fats, staying away from chips and crackers and cookies and white flour, working out until my face is purple and I'm drowning in my own sweat, only to have my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces by an inanimate object that shows me numbers that don't even BEGIN to match up to the amount of work and consistency I have put in over the last seven days?   HOW in the world does a person stay motivated to keep at it, to never give up, when the results don't come?  Those first weeks are supposed to be the weeks when the weight falls off at the highest rate.  If week one looks like this for me, where do I go from here?  It only gets harder with the results coming less easily.  I've watched enough episodes of the real Biggest Loser to know that.

This has been my world for the past few years.  So much frustration.  So much work.  So much disappointment and giving up and starting over.  And now, just when I thought all this disappointment and frustration couldn't be any more fun, I have teammates whom I get to let down as well.

Help?  Anyone?  Fat is kicking my butt and leaving me crying like a girl in a wrung out heap on the floor.

Thinking for myself

Yesterday's blog post taught me something.

This diet and exercise thing is a touchy subject.  It's like politics and religion and Michael Jackson--best left alone if you're not prepared to handle the emotional responses that are inevitably evoked.

It's OK.  I'm prepared.

Yesterday, I used words like "hogwash" and "bunk" and "nonsense" when referring to the grossly misunderstood and over-exaggerated notion of starvation mode.  I got some feedback from some people who felt I was attacking their chosen way of eating.


To those people, I say first that I'm sorry.  Sort of.  Sorry that I presented it in such a way that it came across as an attack on your way of life.  Secondly I say, please read it again if you still feel that way.  I dissed an idea, not a practice.  I dissed the weight loss community for insisting for so long that we are putting our bodies into starvation mode (bunk) if we don't eat every few hours, making many of us feel that the ONLY way to succeed at weight loss is to eat tiny amounts of food throughout the day and never enjoy a guilt-free meal again.  This is really misleading and completely overblown and it makes me mad.


THAT is the idea at which I am thumbing my nose.  

I have some great links that cite solid research which shows what it takes for our bodies to go into TRUE starvation mode, and I was going to post them, but I learned something else yesterday:  It doesn't matter what I post.  It doesn't matter if I get Richard Simmons and Jillian Michaels and that Tony Little guy with the awesome ponytail to shout it from the rooftops.  People know what works for them and they're going to take it personally if someone comes along and says "Hey, you might have been misled about the science behind what you're doing."   


I'm no different. 


My "diet" is the right one. 
My religion is the right one.
My presidential candidate is the right one.
And Michael Jackson was a pedophile.

So there.

This weight loss thing is a huge learning process for me.  This blog is a way for me to share what I'm doing and what I'm learning.  What's working and what's not. When I share some of my "a-ha!" discoveries, it's absolutely up to you to decide whether or not you give a crap.  It's up to you to decide if you want to lend it credibility and read more or just blow it off as one more piece of information you have to sift through or one more thing that Jacey's going to try and fail at.  I can live with either.  Just understand that much of what I write is for entertainment purposes and because I think I'm mildly amusing, not because I believe myself to be a foremost expert on losing weight.

I understand that the only way I will ever have a toned leg to stand on is to have measurable success and to finally be able to say, "HEY, EVERYBODY!  LOOK AT ME! THIS WORKS!"   Only then will anyone truly listen to what I have to say, and it's only then that anyone SHOULD listen to me.  After all, who am I?  Someone who's been trying and failing at weight loss for a lifetime?  Umm, yep.  That's me.  I've had a couple of big successes with it in the past, but here I am again.

I will repeat once more for the record that I believe that anything you do where you are restricting your calories will bring weight loss results.

Cutting out bread
Cutting out sugar
The grapefruit diet
The hot dog diet
The Ding Dong diet
The swallow-a-tapeworm-on-purpose diet

They might suck, nutritionally speaking, but they all create a calorie deficit (or massive amounts of diarrhea), so they all work for losing weight.

Of course there are things we can eat that are better for us and more beneficial to our bodies, but when it comes to losing fat, cutting calories will do the trick, no matter how you do that.

Two of my all-time favorite weight loss blogs are written by people who lost weight counting calories, plain and simple.  344 pounds is written by my virtual buddy Tyler W. who has made quite the name for himself in the weight loss world.  He's lost around 135 pounds eating food that wouldn't likely be considered healthy, just eating less of it.  The other fave, Can You Stay For Dinner?, is written by an amazing young woman who has also lost 135 pounds.  She is a food writer/critic/author.  Food is literally her life.  She loves a good meal and eats three meals per day.  Neither of these people is an advocate of the fasting lifestyle, to my knowledge, but that doesn't mean I don't have enormous amounts of respect for them and their successes.   They've done what works for them.  That makes it their "right thing."

I'm searching for my "right thing" and sharing what I'm learning along the way.

I'm straightforward. Some people don't like that.  OK. If you want to print out and shred my blog posts and let your pet bunny poop on them, I say go for it.  But when I say I've read studies that tell my common sense side that certain claims are hogwash, give me some credit for having half a brain and understand that I'm sharing information, not reading some anorexic goth teenager's blog and trying to pass it off as gospel.  And then go Googling stuff for yourself if you don't want to take my word for it.  But for Pete's sake, please don't argue with me about it if you're not willing to do what I've done, which is to explore ALL of the options and learn about them.

We all know what works.  We just don't all understand WHY our "right thing" works because there is so much conflicting "knowledge" out there. Everyone is an expert.  I try to take in as much credible information as I can and then think for myself using that information and my own common sense (I believe God gave us reasoning abilities and brains for a reason). And then I write about it and give my non-sugar-coated assessment and let you do with it what you will. 


In the meantime, I really love this post from fellow IF'er Jenna about fielding others' opinions on fasting vs. eating more frequently.  http://19hours-freedom.blogspot.ca/2010/04/achilles-heel-of-fasting.html

Now, time for some Billie Jean on Pandora ...

Life in the "fast" lane

When you hear the word "fasting," what comes to mind?   Deprivation?  Despair?  Trying to eat your young because you're so hungry that every time you look at them you see little cheeseburgers with arms?

I'm right there with you.   Or I WAS.

Before I go on, I want to issue a disclaimer:  What I am about to write is not directed at anyone in particular.  I've been fighting this weight loss battle for a looong time, and one thing I have heard ad nauseum is, "You're probably not eating enough," or, "You need to eat more often."  Everyone says this to me, and I stopped finding it annoying a long time ago.  I promise.  I just smile and nod and realize that people really are trying to be helpful by sharing what has either worked for them, or what they themselves have been told repeatedly by those supposedly in the know.

I know that many people have been successful with the plan that suggests eating several very small snack-ish type meals every day, and every couple of hours, rather than the traditional three meals per day.  If that works for them, then great.  But me, I like MEALS.  You know ... a big, fat chicken breast with a big side of carbs and another big side of vegetables followed by something sweet (thanks again, dad, for the the inherited after-dinner sweet tooth).  Eating like a bird all day long leaves me feeling like ... a  really hungry and dissatisfied bird.   A cranky one at that.

I WILL peck your eyes out.

In the end, it all comes down to burning more than you take in.  Go ahead, eat those six Twinkies.  If that's all you eat today, you'll lose weight.  You'll be sick and unhealthy, but you'll lose weight.  The point here is that no matter where/when/how you take in your energy, using more than you ingest will bring weight loss results.  

For someone whose problem is an obsession with food, having to eat every couple of hours and therefore spend a LOT of time preparing things to eat can be problematic. It feeds that obsession.  If someone came to me and told me they had a drinking problem, I'd likely NOT tell them to go get a job as a bartender.  Same concept here.

Now, enter the concept of fasting.

What I'm talking about here isn't the nonsense you typically hear about where you ("you," meaning "annoyingly skinny celebrities") go 30, 60, even 90 days taking in nothing but fruit/veggie juice.  No thank you.

I'm talking about intermittent fasting, herein referred to as "IF."   There are different ways to do this:

-Fast (nothing to eat and nothing but calorie free beverage) for a 24 hour period a couple of times per week.

-Fast daily for anywhere from 16-20 hours, allowing yourself an eating "window" of 4-8 hours every day.

I've chosen to do the latter (started at 16 hours and now doing about 18-19 daily), and so far I am very happy with it.   

My observations

The Pros:

-Less obsessing. I am no longer spending endless hours in the morning preparing all my little snacks to take with me to work.  This sets me free in so many ways.  It's hard to explain if you've never had a dysfunctional relationship with food, but not having to deal with food for the better part of my day just creates a feeling of freedom for me.  I feel my obsession with food diminishing and I like it.

-A sense of control.  When I overeat, the first thing I feel after binging is a sense of guilt over my complete lack of control--and it is one ugly, vicious cycle.  On the flip side, when I refrain from eating for a long period of time and let my mind rule rather than my stomach, I feel empowered.  I feel as though I'm gaining control over an area of my life that has long controlled ME.  This does wonders for my psyche.

-A "lighter" feeling.  With a 5-hour eating window (the IF crowd refers to this as a feeding window, but I feel like I should be eating from a trough when I use that term) every day,  the opportunity to overeat is greatly decreased.  Sure, I could spend five hours stuffing my face, but I don't.  My face-stuffing days ended a long time ago.  I eat too much, to be sure, but typically over the course of an entire day (a few Doritos here, a Zinger or two there, grazing during the dinner-cooking hour until I've inadvertently consumed the equivalent of two meals), not in a few short hours.  

-I'm not dying.  I have times where I feel hungry, but it usually passes with a big drink of water.  And I've even noticed that, when it's time to break my fast and I've gone 17 or more hours without food, I don't feel ravenously hungry.  Yes, I'm ready to eat something, but there are no cheeseburgers with arms anywhere in sight.  

-Weight loss.  I'm still new at this IF thing.  I'm still trying to find a groove and be 100% consistent with it.  But I've found that when I do it and do it right for a couple of days in a row, I see the scale go down and I just plain feel better--more energy and never weighed down by an overstuffed gut.

The Cons (there really aren't many):

-The family factor.  One thing I read in my many studies on this subject is that this IF thing is much harder to do if you are not a single, carefree sorta person.  I have kids.  Kids like to eat.  I hear it's good for kids to eat dinner pretty much every day.  This means I am cooking for them at night during part of my fasting period.  It's a challenge, but I find that if I break my fast (at 4:00) with something relatively healthy and filling (a piece of whole wheat toast and a green smoothie), I'm not terribly tempted to help myself to giant spatulas full of their dinner.

-Adjusting.  This takes some getting used to.  It's different.  It bucks against what you've always done because you've always been told to do it.  There is an adjustment period, and though I like this way of eating and I think it's going to work well for me, I'm still in that adjustment phase.

For the skeptics

Not convinced?  Or on the fence?  Google it.  That's what I did.  I was very surprised at how much information I found on this subject and at how many former advocates of the eat-every-two-hours diet have been converted to the IF lifestyle.  There is a TON of science out there backing this way of eating.

If you don't feel like Googling it, let me just share with you some of the things I've learned:

-"Starvation mode" is bunk.  Hogwash.  Nonsense.  We humans, especially Americans, are spoiled.  We think we're starving if we miss our afternoon snack.  How did our ancestors (you know, the ones who weren't so fat?) live?  Do you think they stopped at the 7-11 and grabbed a granola bar every time they felt a twinge of hunger?  They ate what they grew or killed and eating wasn't always an hourly or even daily occurrence.  Studies show that metabolism will slow after long periods of fasting, but the percentage is so minute and insignificant that it barely registers on the charts.  If our bodies truly are starving, guess where they  go for fuel?  Our FAT STORES!  If  your body stops burning fat when you eat less, can someone please explain anorexics to me?  How do they get down to -12% body fat and 75 pounds if their bodies stopped burning fat when they stopped eating?

Note:  In no way do I condone or advocate dabbling in anorexia.  Bad idea.

This is an instance where people (mainly fitness professionals/personal trainers) have said something so often and for so long, that it's become fact without really being 100% factual.  While there's nothing unhealthy about eating 5-6 small, nutritious snacks per day, it's not keeping your body from the dreaded and imaginary "starvation mode," as has been pounded into us.

Big, fat, HUGE clarification here:  I am not saying that you are an idiot for using frequent eating to lose weight.  Nor am I saying that the method itself is hogwash or bunk.  You can stop writing that angry comment you were about to send me.  I'm saying that there is a whole lot of misunderstanding out there about WHY it works.  It works because calories are being restricted.  Calorie restriction coupled with frequent eating works. I do not dispute that.  I only dispute the reasons we've been given about WHY it works.   If you were eating 600 calories 6 times per day, you can't tell me that you'd expect to lose weight or rely on a raised metabolism to burn fat for you.  This article explains it oodles better than I can:  http://www.bengreenfieldfitness.com/2011/10/snacking-metabolism/

-Weight loss/muscle gain.  Our bodies are primed for fat-burning while in fasting mode as practiced with IF.  Again, Google this.  I read so many articles and visited so many sites that I didn't keep track of many of the links.  Studies have shown that fasting with proper nutrition and proper weight-lifting technique actually IMPROVES the body's ability to gain muscle, and we all know that more muscle = more calories burned.  That IS a fact.

-Overall health.  One thing I read over and over again in my quest for info on IF was that fasting has been shown to cause marked health improvements (improved cholesterol numbers, for one) and is linked to prevention of pesky little maladies like cancer, type II diabetes, and dementia, just to name a few.  Read up on it.  You'll be impressed.

-No more grazing.  I chose my eating window as 11am to 4pm because 4:00 (the time I usually get home from work) is when I typically start undoing all the good things I've done all day long, and the undoing continues until about 9:00 at night.  I get home and the house is a mess and the kids are loud and there's a laundry list (actual laundry included) of things for me to do before bedtime.

Let the stress eating begin.

"Oh, it won't hurt anything if I just have this handful of Fritos."
"It's just a few bites of chicken enchilada casserole that I swore I wasn't going to touch."
"Oh, it won't hurt anything if I just have this handful of Fritos."
"I really need/deserve to eat this chocolate bunny leftover from Easter 2010."
"Oh, it won't hurt anything if I just have this handful of Fritos."

When it comes to "snacks," if I give myself an inch, I take a mile.  On the other hand, when I know I'm in fasting mode and NOTHING is allowed, I have no leeway.  And once again, I have that sense of control that empowers me.

In a nutshell

Despite all of the suggestions out there to the contrary, our bodies indeed were NOT made to be fed every few hours.  We are not garbage disposals.  Our bodies were designed to be fed what we NEED to survive, and not to be constantly fed just to avoid slight little feelings of discomfort now and then.  When you feel those little pangs of hunger, embrace them.  Encourage them.  Appreciate them. It means your body is about to start gorging on your fat cells.  Nom, nom, nom.


I'm in no way the poster child for this subject, since I'm just getting started. I'm only passing along to you what I have learned in my hours and hours of reading about this topic.  I've shared with you what my limited experience has been, along with some links below featuring folks who have had great success.  If eating smaller meals is the easiest way for YOU to control your calorie intake and see the results that YOU want, then that's what YOU should do. It's worked for many.  But this fasting thing gives me a sense of control and keeps me from overeating during my typical binge-fest hours.  

IF feels like something I can live with long term.  Best of all, the evidence suggests that it's good for my health.  I'm sold.

One of my favorite IF blogs out there is 19 Hours = Freedom.  I like it because she takes a common sense approach and because she has had results.  If you're interested at all in IF, her blog is a good place to start.

Other IF links I like (there are tons more, but these are the ones I managed to save):

http://n8trainingsystems.com/2012/04/20/is-breakfast-the-most-important-meal-of-the-day/

http://www.marksdailyapple.com/fasting/#axzz1xhhqj5Ni

http://www.marksdailyapple.com/health-benefits-of-intermittent-fasting/#axzz1wCCJ8S2A

http://artofmanliness.com/2012/01/25/intermittent-fasting/

http://www.paleoplan.com/2012/05-09/intermittent-fasting-part-3-faq/

Orange Infused Roasted Green Beans

I confess.  I'm a dirty thief. I stole this from Jillian. I stole the photo, too, because I don't take pictures of food.  But this recipe is too tasty and too healthy not to steal and then pass along for the good of mankind.  Think of me as the Robin Hood of recipes, with Jillian being the rich and you being, well, the poor.

Once again, you're welcome.

Orange Infused Roasted Green Beans

1 lb. fresh green beans (Jillian says organic, but whatever)
1 red bell pepper, sliced thin
1 TB of extra virgin olive oil
Zest of one orange
1/2 tsp. salt
Crushed red pepper to taste (depends on how hot you like it)

Note: If you like your green beans tender and less on the crunchy side, try steaming them for a bit before you start.

Preheat oven to 450.  Toss together all ingredients and lay them out on on a baking sheet.  Roast for 15-20 minutes, turning once.  Grab your oven mitts.  Remove your masterpiece from the oven.  Eat it.  Sharing is optional.

Living your truth

The latest buzz phrase that I hear going around these days, mostly among women, goes something like, "Live your truth."

At first I found this annoying because, well, I thought it was stupid.  What does that even mean, anyway?

But the more I think about it, the more I understand it. I suppose it could mean different things to different people, but to me, it would have to mean living my life in a way that makes me feel good and doing the things that would truly make me happy without concern for what others think of me or how they might judge me.

When you battle with your weight and all the demons that come along with it, living your truth can be a tricky thing.  Your truth wants to go to the beach, but your thighs are screaming something about next year being your year -- you didn't quite lose the weight in time for this summer's swimsuit season.  Your truth wants to order that super cute wrap dress you saw online, but your mirror convinces you that you won't be doing that poor dress any favors by pouring your oversized hiney into it.  Your truth wants to hike up the side of a mildly intimidating mountain, but your pride worries about how embarrassed you'll be when everyone's passing you up so you can stop to catch your breath every 3-1/2 minutes.  That includes the people on crutches and the folks on the field trip from the nursing home.

Go ahead, laugh.

I'm sad to say that I can't remember a time when I have ever lived my truth.  Fear has a funny way of preventing me from doing that.  I mean, look at that lady up there.  Does she look like she gives a rat's about what anyone thinks about her boobs being barely 30% contained and her cankles going straight up to her bellybutton?  Nope.  Girlfriend is livin' her truth, right down to the sassy red nails and the freaky BluBlockers.

Oh, to have such courage.

What does living your truth mean to you?  And how are you doing it, or at least working at it?

Sitting bad. Moving good.

The last seven days have been marked by some varying moods.

Saturday: Confused
Tuesday morning:  Frustrated and really mad
Wednesday morning:  Hopeful
Today:  Happy

If you recall last Saturday's post, I was confused at how I had managed to lose weight when I'd done a total of ZERO workouts and eaten the number of calories equal to the population of New York City.  You think I'm exaggerating, don't you?

Based on lots of helpful comments following that post, I came to the conclusion that it was all of the extra moving I did while moving.  Pun absolutely intended.

From Saturday to Tuesday, I had cleaned up my diet and started working out once again.  Here comes the "frustrated and really mad" part:  I got on the scale Tuesday morning after being a good girl for a few days and found I was UP three pounds.  UP is the opposite of DOWN.

So I took to heart the idea that all of the moving moving was what did it.  I was sitting less -- a LOT less -- and on my feet for nearly 6-8 hours every day after work during those two weeks.  Not killing myself with jumping jacks and push-ups, but not sitting on the couch watching TV like Jabba the Hutt, either.

To clarify, I'm a mother of four.  I am not lazy. I don't spend THAT much time sitting around like Mr. Hutt, because I'm cooking or doing dishes or helping with homework or running errands or doing laundry or a hundred other tiny things that moms do.  But I still sit more than I should.  I justify this by telling myself that I get up at 4-blasted-30 in the morning to work out hard, and then I go off to work and earn a paycheck (sitting at a desk for several hours at a time, mind you), and then come home to all of the stresses that home life can bring. So darnittoheck, why shouldn't I be allowed to just sit here and let my brain - and backside - turn to mush in the evenings?

Because that's not working for me.  That's why.

There's a cool infographic going around the WWW these days that contains some pretty alarming facts about what all of the sitting we do is doing to our bodies.  Our ancestors did not sit in cars, on buses, at desks, or even on stationary bikes, for crying out loud, back in the day.   They were on their feet from morning til night.   And few of them were obese.  All of this sitting is bad for our joints, our muscles, our hearts, and our lungs.  Oh, and it's making us fat ... and sick.

So I've decided that my friends are pretty wise.  If they say it was the moving that made me lose the weight, then by golly I'm going to believe them.  Hence Wednesday morning's hopeful mood.  I was ready to give this a try.

Since Wednesday morning, in addition to my daily workouts, I've been adding more movement to my daily routine.  I'm getting up from my desk frequently and doing squats, wall push-ups, and other embarrassing things that nobody should really do in front of co-workers.  Luckily and for their protection, I have my own office.  With a door that locks. And blinds that close.

It's spring time and the weather is amazing.  I work on a beautiful university campus.  This gives me every reason to get out and go for a quick walk at lunch time.

Did I lie?  Told you it was pretty.

I've been taking the time to go for walks around the neighborhood with my kids - and our really dumb dog -  in the evenings.

Less sitting.  More moving.  Who knew?

As for today's happy mood, that's a result of stepping on the scale after my workout this morning.   From Tuesday to today, I managed to get rid of those three pesky pounds ... plus another one for good measure.  That's four pounds gone in four days' time.

Total lost thus far:  15.2 lbs.   That's like 3 bags of sugar plus a few tablespoons.

(pausing for applause)

I'd love to sit around and entertain you with my musings all day, but it's Saturday.  Time for Jabba to get outside and play with the kids - and that dumb dog.  I think we might go chase ducks or something.

How do YOU incorporate more movement into your daily routine?

Say NO to store-bought

I love a good salad and would eat them so much more often, if only store-bought salad dressings didn't suck so much.

I'm always looking for new dressing recipes.  I have probably spent thousands of dollars on store-bought dressings in my lifetime that end up sitting in my fridge until they go bad because I took one taste and hated them.

I've decided that salad dressing is just too expensive to take such risks anymore.  I'm getting old.  I'm all about the sure thing these days.

So when I stumble upon a salad dressing recipe that is

1. Easy to make and
2. Deelicious

 I get positively giddy.

I found one last week that begs to be shared.

Balsamic Honey Lemon Vinaigrette

(I didn't take this photo.  Photos of food don't happen at my house because my camera is a phone and because I get overly excited and eat it before I think to photograph it.)

-3/4 c. canola oil
-1/4 c. balsamic vinaigrette
-1 TB honey
-1 TB lemon juice
-1 clove garlic, minced
-salt and pepper to taste
(I used garlic salt--couldn't tell you how much--sorry--in place of the fresh garlic and the salt.  I don't have a lot of love for messing with real garlic.  I know I should, but I just don't).  And please, spare me the comments where you try to convert me to real garlic and tell me how real cooks use real garlic.  I've never professed to be a real cook.  Not ever.

You could probably use Stevia in place of honey if you're trying to reduce the sugar factor.  

Like I said in yesterday's post, I drizzled this over some baby spinach/green leaf lettuce, craisins, almond slivers, and crumbled feta and it was heaven in a bowl.

You're welcome.

The Eat-Crap-and-Lose-Weight Diet

Now that the worst of the moving ordeal is over and I'm feeling about 60% "normal" again, I'm feeling ready to get back to this weight loss business.  I've worked out hard the last two mornings and have been packing healthy food to take to work with me (yesterday's lunch:  leafy greens, pecans, dried cranberries, with a delightful little homemade balsamic vinaigrette drizzled on top).  Ahhhh, vegetables.

Mostly out of necessity and pure exhaustion, my family's diet over the last couple of weeks has consisted pretty much of pizza, cereal, fast food, pizza, bagels, pizza, and pizza.  And working out?  Yeah, right.  I give myself credit for all the hard work I've done packing, sorting, cleaning, and now unpacking, but there was no intense, sweat-dripping, face-reddening, heart-pounding exercise anywhere in there.

I was afraid--really afraid--to step on the scale this morning to assess the damages and see how much extra work I'm going to have to do to repair said damages.

What I saw when I stepped on that scale made me exclaim the following (give or take a few gratuitous farm words):

What in HELL'S BATHROOM is going on here?


Remember those 14.2 pounds I had lost before my moving nightmare began?  Well, they're still gone. I've stayed nearly exactly the same.  Keep in mind, though, that I really HAVE NOT stayed the same.  I know for a fact that there were about 5 or so pounds gained somewhere in there, because I got on the scale and saw them.


This means that I have essentially LOST weight over the last two weeks while eating Burger King "tacos," (that's in quotes for a reason, people), Sonic cheeseburgers, Little Caesar's pizza, Wendy's chicken nuggets,   Zingers (oh how I love those spongy rectangles of lemony goodness), and pretty much anything that did NOT look like a fruit, a veggie, fiber, or a lean cut of protein.   Oh, and let's not forget the complete absence of intense exercise from my life during this time.

So I repeat:  What in HELL'S BATHROOM?

Can some please explain to me what is wrong with my body?????   Anyone?  The universe, Mother Nature, evil P.A. lady who gave me phentermine, Zackie the evil personal trainer, ANYONE?????


OK, I joke about this and say most of it very tongue-in-cheekish, but REALLY!  This leaves me completely confused and not knowing where to go from here.  As frightened as I was to step on that scale this morning and discover the reality of the damage I thought I'd done, I'm equally as frightened now to eat healthy and work out!   Doing the latter always seems to leave me feeling like I'm in some kind of a war with my body and my brain.  I do things like putting spinach in a blender and drinking it, packing nuts and fruit for work snacks, drinking enough water to have me peeing every ten minutes ... and yet ...

Fattening, disgusting, nutritionless GARBAGE seems to be what does it for me.   Oh, and substituting extra sleep for exercise.  That also seems to be working.

I could reeeeeally use some words of wisdom right now.  This battle wearies me, and now to come off of a two-week fast food binge devoid of exercise only to find that I've LOST weight ... well ... I just don't know what to think.

I want to put good things in my body.  I feel better when I do.  But why do those good things seem to be hindering my efforts rather than helping them?  What am I missing here?

Moving vs. Weight Loss: And the winner is ...

So here's the deal.  We're moving.  And by "we," I mean the whole family.  All SIX of us.

This means I'm tired and spent (and maybe slightly grumpy) and working my tail off from morning 'til night to sift through drawers and cupboards and closets full of junk to see what gets tossed, what goes to charity, and what gets boxed.  And then I box it.

How do my weight loss efforts fit into this process?   They don't, that's how.

Trying to lose weight is a very stressful endeavor for me.  Maybe it shouldn't be, but it is.  It requires getting up at 4:30 a.m. nearly every day to work out, fretting about every crumb that goes into my mouth, drinking enough water to have me running to the bathroom 20 times per day, and dreading that weekly step onto the scale.  It's a process that requires my utmost focus and attention.

Focus and attention.  Two things in very short supply in my world right now.

My daily routine currently consists of waking extra early to get to work extra early so that I can come home extra early to work extra hard packing up our massive amounts of stuff.

Then I go to bed.  Much later than I'd like.

Then I get up and do it again.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  I told my husband the other day that it feels like one day is just bleeding into the next.  I can't tell them apart anymore.  Work, pack, sleep.  Work, pack, sleep.

I eat what I can, when I can, and cannot allow myself to stress over the calorie count, or feel guilty about missing my workouts because I'm too exhausted to jump out of bed and onto the treadmill at 4:30 a.m.

To quote a favorite ridiculous viral video:  Not happenin', man.

This could be the scene in my front yard come Saturday morning.  I may just snap and drive the truck right into the house.

If I were a stronger, more dedicated human being, I'd probably be able to move to a new house AND lose weight all at the same time.  But I'm just not "there" yet.  Don't get me wrong.  I am in LOVE with the idea of our new home and all the extra space.  The getting there is hard, but the living there will be totally worth all of the work.

When life settles down (at least to a degree) and I am able to direct my focus and attention toward my goals once again, I'll be right back at it.

For now, though, moving my little family and all their crap is my main focus.

The rest will have to wait.  And I do mean, the "rest."  Pun totally intended there.

p.s.  My hat's off to all you military folk who do this a thousand and one times during your life span. Mad respect.

It's all on me

A few years ago, right before I moved here to Utah, I was frustrated with my lack of weight loss results and, on the advice of a few friends, made an appointment with an endocrinologist.

I was working harder than ever and eating better than ever and getting nowhere.

I had heard stories from friends who had battled with whackadoo hormones and finally saw the weight drop off when they saw a doctor and got themselves balanced.   I figured, why not?

Why not indeed.

I was hopeful.  This is basically how my interaction with Dr. Jerky McJerkson went:

Dr. M:  What seems to be the problem?

Hopeful me:  Well, Dr. M., I've been eating XYZ and working out 6 days per week doing P90X and can't seem to drop a pound.

Dr. M (acting impressed with my regimen):  Wow.  I'm impressed.

Still hopeful Me:  I'm hoping you can help me figure out what's going on with my body because I'm at my wits' end and very frustrated.

Dr. M (feigning understanding):  That's understandable.  Let's do some blood work and see if we can figure out what's going on.

Fast forward to two days later when Dr. M. calls with the results:

Dr. M:  Mrs. Reynolds (this was in my pre-Carpenter days), I have the results of your blood test back and your hormone function looks normal.  BUT ...

side note:  This is one big BUT ...

BUT ...

Your cholesterol is a bit high so you really should lose some weight.

Hopeless and discouraged me:  Hangs up phone and cries for 20 minutes.

Did he really just tell me I need to lose weight?  What the hell does he think I sat in his office crying about two days earlier?

Fast forward again, this time to a mere two weeks ago when I lost my mind and decided to put myself through this again, only THIS time I did it without insurance.  That's right, I paid CASH right out of my POCKET for the abuse:

Evil female P.A.:  What seems to be the problem?

Me (thinking, "Weird, this feels familiar"):  blah blah blah weight, blah blah blah, working hard, blah blah blah losing my freaking mind for the last 3+ years, blah blah blah I'm doing the work but can't seem to get the results I'm working for

E.F.P.A.:  Yes, I hear the same story from a lot of women.

Me:  I don't want a magic pill, I'm willing to do the work and I do it.  I'm just wondering if there's something going on in my body that's making it so much harder for me than for everyone else on the planet.

E.F.P.A.:  How 'bout we try some Phentermine?

Me:  Uh.

Me:  Well.

Me:  What does that do?  (I asked this already knowing the answer)

E.F.P.A.:  It's an appetite suppressant.

Me (in my head):  So I just told you all that I'm doing and how hard I'm working and how much frustration and heartache this has caused me and YOU SAY 'DIET PILL' TO ME?????

So what did I learn from these experiences?  A couple of things.

I learned that I really need to stop talking to doctors.

I learned that, before I even get a chance to discuss my issues with a medical professional, they see my weight on the chart and look at me and instantly lump me in with all the other overweight people who come to see them and want the easy fix.

SO not me.  SO not fair.

But the most important thing I learned is that this weight loss thing is all on me.  This is MY fight.  I might have jacked up hormones and vitamin deficiencies and evil little microscopic men inside my body who transport all the food I eat directly to my hips.  Whatever the reason, this weight loss thing is harder for me.  It didn't used to be, but it is now.

Even the people out there who COULD help me and probably SHOULD help me, won't. I could stay ticked at them, but the only way that's useful to me is if being ticked burns calories.  But it doesn't.  Trust me on that.

So instead ...

My body fights against me.  I fight harder.
Doctors refuse to help me.  I help myself.
I get discouraged and have a bad week.  I dust myself off and make the next week a good one.

Ultimately, the most balanced hormones and the most competent medical people and the best personal trainers in the world can't give me the health and fitness I so badly want and need.

It's all on me:  the work, the attitude, and the outcome.

Less is More

A couple of weeks ago, I had a sort of epiphany (I love that word).

Side note:  Speaking of the last couple of weeks, did anyone notice I haven't been around here for a while?

I didn't think so.

We've been on the hunt for a bigger house to rent. House hunting is time consuming and stressful.  Did I mention we found one and love it?  May 1 is the day.  Can't wait.

Back to my epiphany ...

I was sick with a sinus infection and wasn't able to work out for about 5 straight days.  That is HIGHLY unusual for me.  I'm an up-at-4:30-every-morning-6-days-a-week-worker-outer.  True story.  I don't like the feeling I have when I skip my workouts.  I feel guilty and lazy.

I was eating as I normally have been during this exercise hiatus.  I wasn't so sick that I'd lost my appetite.   I mean really, it's rare that I'm ever THAT sick.  My appetite pretty much never takes a hiatus.  Sad.

I was very apprehensive about stepping on the scale at the end of those five days.  But I sucked it up and braced myself for the bad news.    So how shocked was I to see that I had LOST WEIGHT?    WHAT?

This mysterious turn of events caused me to pause and re-evaluate everything I've been doing over the past few years with little to no success.  I've shed many a tear and thrown many an internal tantrum over the fact that I probably work out harder than just about anyone I know, or at least more often and consistently, only to see THEM basking in the glory of their newly-revealed abs while I'm still over here wondering when I'll see my toes again.

Not fair.  Begin. Internal. Tantrum ... NOW.

So I did some Googling and reading and some more Googling and discovered that I might be on to something with this whole concept of fewer workouts and more rest.

My workouts have, in the last year or so, begun to feel like punishment for my body -- something I was doing TO it rather than FOR it.

Time for a change.

Over the past two weeks, I've been following a new schedule:  The "work out for four/rest for three" schedule.  Two days per week, I hit THIS workout hard:

It's a hiney-trasher, fo sho.  But totally in a good way.

The other two days, it's some vigorous hill walking on the tread.  Not killing myself, just getting my  heart rate up in intervals.

And what, you may ask, do I do the other three days of the week?  

Does this answer your question?

Oh, if only.

But I do sleep a little longer and enjoy a day of rest.  No, THREE days of rest.  And by "rest," I mean going to work, taking care of kids, running errands, doing laundry, cooking dinner, helping with homework, picking up messes.  THAT kind of rest, minus a workout.

REST.  Who knew your body needed it in order to be healthy?  What a concept.

And the result of all this working out and resting and working out and resting?

Last week's loss:  -1.6 lbs

This week's loss:  -2.4 lbs

That's 4 lbs lost over the last two weeks and a total of 14.2 lost since I started this little blogging adventure.

The little bits here and there are adding up.  And I'm learning things as I go.  

What I've learned recently:  "Only" working out four days per week does not mean you're a lazy, good for nothing slacker.  Rest and recovery are just as vital to your overall health and fitness as exercise. Eat good-for-you food, move your body, change your attitude, and the results will come.  Slowly but surely.

I hate the "slowly" part of this whole process, but I'm learning to relish the small victories.

Biggest *&@#$% Loser

I've probably said this before, but I need to quit watching The Biggest Loser.  The typical weigh-in segment of this show is not good for my psyche.  They usually go something like:

Contestant hesitantly tiptoes onto the scale, hoping to show big numbers for the week.

The display teasingly flips through numbers until it finally lands on the contestant's weight.

A "-8" pops up on the screen, followed by a few prime-time television censor beeps.

"Oh, beeeeeep.  Are you beeping kidding me?  I worked so beeping hard this week.  I just don't beeping understand it.  Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."

In my mind, I'm thinking, "YOU LOST EIGHT BEEPING POUNDS, YOU UNGRATEFUL BEEP!"

You have the greatest trainers in the world at your disposal and you are changing your life in every way imaginable!  Eight pounds is beeping amazing!!!

When I have a week like this week, where I lose a "mere" 2.2 pounds, I have to really talk myself into being grateful that the scale is moving in the right direction.  I have to stop wishing for those Biggest Loser-like results.  

They are a TELEVISION show, for crying out loud.   Their weight loss efforts--and expectations--are completely  unrealistic for the 99% of us.  Oh that we could all quit our jobs and leave our stressful lives behind for several weeks and be trained and monitored by the toughest trainers on the planet.

... and have $250,000 dangled in front of our noses as motivation.

For most of us, not gonna happen.

Most of us wake up every day to bills and kids and messes and jobs and homework and commutes and beeeeeeeeep.

And in the middle of all that daily reality, we have to find the motivation to crank out a workout and make healthy choices when all we REALLY want to do is Hoover the dessert table at the local buffet as a way of forgetting our responsibilities, if only for a few moments.

I say, if I can lose a couple of pounds AND continue to face my realities every day with little to no hope of ever being paid $250,000 to do it, maybe I'm slightly more inspiring than those whiny little snits on TV who think 8 pounds is something to sneeze at.  

Aaaaa-chooooo!

Beeeeeeeeeeep ... 

More Insanity

As of this morning, the scale reads exactly the same as it did last Saturday, but a few pounds LESS than where I was early in the week.  So, while the scale didn't exactly make me cry today, it did manage to piss me off a little.

Remember the definition of insanity?

I don't want to go there anymore.

For me, there are two weight loss killers:

1.  Treating myself
2. Eating too much in the evenings

These are the things I need to work on going forward.  I have to confine the treats (a meal out, a trip to Cold Stone, a piece of cake) to one day per week and I have to keep those treats SMALL.  Uber small.

Eating too much in the evenings means having a meal.  I think my metabolism goes into hibernation mode by around 4:00 p.m.  If my energy levels late in the day are any indication of  my ability to burn calories, then I'd say that has to be true.  I lose steam early in the day because I START my day early with a hard workout.      For some reason, if I eat anything more than a piece of toast or a small healthy snack, my body punishes me.  It's like whatever I eat after 4:00 p.m. gets transported directly to my hips.  No converting to energy, no passing through my intestines.  Just right to the old fat storage unit.

So those are the two places I need to be very careful.  And probably more careful than most, for whatever reasons.  Hormones, age, dead metabolism.  Who knows?

We all have our crosses to bear in life.  This one is mine.  But it's mine to be strengthened by or defeated by.  I get to choose.

If only carrying crosses burned extra calories.

A Stranger No More

I've been a stranger to my own blog for the past week or so.

Lost focus. Got sidetracked.  Took my eye off the ball.

You see where I'm going with this.

I let feelings of discouragement and frustration get me down.

I need to stop doing that.  Can anyone teach me how to stop doing that?  Or is there a pill that can help me with that?

I just broke a very important writer's rule by ending consecutive sentences with the same word.

That, that, THAT!

Focus, Jacey.  Focus.

Last week's weigh-in (the one I never posted) was a disappointment, to say the least.  I had big ideas about getting over that 10-pounds-lost mark.  But alas ...  I ended up gaining back 2 pounds of the 9.8 I'd lost.

Well crap.

Not exactly what you'd call getting up over that 10 pound mark.

But success in anything -- weight loss, career, any kind of personal achievement -- requires rising above an awful lot of crap.

 Or so I've heard.

I don't know what this Saturday will bring, but I'm staying focused.  The other option is to give up.  I may have my occasional setbacks, but I haven't failed until I've given up.

Failure is not an option.

I hope you'll help me stay accountable. I could use a cheering section that isn't afraid to break their foot off in my John Brown hind parts every once in a while (a thousand worthless bonus points to anyone who knows that movie line).  I've learned over the past week or so that the longer I stay away from the blog, the easier it is to stay away from the blog.

But I need to be here.  REALLY need to be here.

So even if the scale makes me cry on Saturday (it wouldn't be the first time), I'll be here to report.

Like Buttah

I stepped on the scale this morning expecting good things.

I worked H-A-R-D this week.  My body was mad at me last night after a week of tough, full-body workouts.  But you can probably guess what I'm going to say next.

Wait for it ...

Wait for it ...

Wait for it ...

It's a good sore.


I had to.  It needed to be said.  Because it's true.

But I digress.  You were probably wondering about the scale.

I lost 3.2 pounds this week, bringing my total thus far to 9.8 pounds.

Ask me how BADLY I wanted that to be TEN pounds.  Ask me how many times I stepped off the scale and back on, or how many times I peed (in the toilet, not on the scale) to try and squeeze that extra -0.2 out of my mean old scale.

But alas, my scale is nothing if not annoyingly and disgustingly accurate.  Which, honestly, kinda makes me WANT to pee on it sometimes.  But I try to restrain myself.

Regardless, that 3.2 makes me happy.  I earned every last tenth-of-an-ounce.

I'll have to wait until next week to get up over that 10 pound mark, but in the meantime, I've melted off roughly 39 sticks of butter so far.

That's like ... I dunno ... 8 episodes of Paula Deen's cooking show.  It's just a lotta buttah, y'all.

Oh, and did I mention that Valentine's Day happened in the middle of that 3.2?   That's right, even with a date to PF Chang's (meat 'n veggies only, thankyouverymuch) with the love of my life followed by some obligatory Valentine's Day chocolate, I managed to part with 3.2 pounds.

I'll own that.

How did you do this week?  How many Paula Deen episodes did you burn through?

The right direction

Down one pound for the week.

Would I like it to be more?  Yep.   But will I take that one pound, considering my middle-of-the-week carb frenzy and the fact that--thanks to that visitor I mentioned earlier--I'm probably hauling around about a gallon of fluid in my cankles alone?

Most definitely.

But enough about the scale.

I feel good.  I have changed up my workouts over the last couple of weeks and I am feeling the effects of that.  I have been focusing on full-body strength training routines that hit as many muscles as possible at once (kettlebell swings, squat presses, lunges with upright rows, and so on).  And man do I feel it.  It's great to feel like you really worked everything head-to-toe.   I'm diggin' it.

And let's not forget the 1,000 push ups challenge brought to you by my evil former personal trainer.

I love him.

I hate him.

In case there's any doubt, let me tell you right now:  700-push-ups-in-six-days DOES cause a significant amount of discomfort in the upper body region.  It kicks in right around day three.  Trust me.

Or, go do 100 push ups per day for 10 days straight and find out for yourself.

So, after a week of mostly good eating and hard workouts and 5,000 push ups (give or take a few), the scale is moving in the right direction.

I wonder what it will do if I skip the feeding frenzy this week.   I intend to find out.

When Mother Nature Calls

From my first post on this blog, I said that I'd keep it real and share all of the ups and downs.

The following post is a down, brought to you by Mother Nature.

It all started yesterday.  And when I say "started,"  I think you girls know what I mean.  Aunt Flo came to visit and it turns out she's got a WICKED hollow leg.  Man, can that old girl eat.

I ate very well for the better part of the day, but when I got home from work, I was struck out of nowhere with ravenous hunger.

I mean, AUNT FLO was.

If it looked or smelled like a carb and it wasn't nailed down, it was consumed.

Ladies, you're feelin' me, right?

I may be exaggerating a bit, really.  My Aunt Flo's kitchen spree "only" took place over the space of about two hours.  It wasn't an all-day or even an all-afternoon event.  Casualties may or may not have included leftover Super Bowl queso and a PBnJ.  But I can't say for sure.

Aunt Flo knows, but she's not talking.

All I can say is, this does not represent the majority of my efforts to get healthy.  For the most part, I've been a VERY good girl.  The occasional loss of sanity does not give me the excuse to give up and consider myself a failure.

It's a learning process.  As long as the good choices continue to outnumber the bad choices, I'm on the right track.

So whatever your reason for locking yourself in the pantry while your kids bang on the door crying hysterically (because they know what you're doing in there with their Chips Ahoy), forgive yourself.   Or do what I do and blame Mother Nature.

Move on.  Tomorrow is another day. A better day.

The weekend aftermath

I said I'd come back on Monday and report about how I did with my no-gain goal for the weekend.

As of this morning, the scale said I was up two pounds from Saturday morning.

This is not great, but better.  My husband saw everything I ate this weekend.  He would attest to the fact that I did not eat enough to gain two pounds.  At least not enough for a NORMAL person whose body isn't an unforgiving jerk.

I believe that this two pounds could easily represent water and stuff I'm still carrying around in my insides.  Sorry if that's too gross for you.

Here comes some accountability:

For our Saturday date, we went to a Thai place and I ordered the seafood and veggies curry dish.  I had barely  ANY rice with that.  I shared some with my husband and took the rest home to my daughter.   I had a helping of hubby's beef and veggies entree, too.  Good stuff.  I had a plain old Hershey bar for my treat afterward.  We had our Thai at around 4:00 and  I didn't eat anything else for the rest of the day.  Not to starve myself, but just because I wasn't hungry.

For Super Bowl Sunday, I made tacos with regular sized corn tortillas (not the giant kind) and ate three for lunch.  We had some queso dip with corn chips later on during the game and I had one small helping of that.  That's it.  I ate a very sensible breakfast and nothing else the rest of the day.

These were my "cheats" for the weekend.  I'd hardly call any of that going crazy.  Certainly not "gain two pounds" crazy.

But this is my life.  This is my reality. When I eat really well all week and work out hard, my metabolism is nice to me.  But when I deviate from the healthy stuff, even for a moment, it suddenly forgets all of the nice things I did for it all week long and hangs on to every last ounce to punish me.

But my mantra is still "No Excuses."  It doesn't matter that my metabolism is bi-polar and hates my freaking guts.  It is what it is.  I just have to work that much harder and be that much smarter.

I do believe those two pounds aren't "real" pounds and that they'll disappear quickly.  I worked out VERY hard this morning and was right back on plan as of 4:30 a.m.

Protein, veggies, nuts, seeds, controlled healthy carbs, almost no sugar, lots of water.

Take that, you dumb old metabolism.

Weight loss enemy #1: The weekend

Remember last weekend when I proudly declared that I had lost 4.6 pounds in 5 days?

So do I.  That was awesome.

Remember last Monday morning--two days later--when I got on the scale and had gained back over the weekend pretty much all of that?

I do.  Opposite of awesome.

Welcome to my life for the last several months or more.  I have a special gift for sabotaging myself weekend after weekend.

Eat nearly perfectly Monday-Friday.  Good.
Get up at 4:30 a.m. six mornings per week and work out hard.  Really good.
Turn a couple of cheat meals on the weekend into an Olympic sport.  Bad.
Spend the next five days trying to RE-lose those pounds I lost and then RE-gained over the weekend.  BAD.  All caps.

What's that saying about the definition of insanity?  Google it if you don't know.

I have been losing the same 4-5 pounds for months and months now.  Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is making me ins... well... you know.

So, while the scale this morning shows a loss of 1.2 pounds from last week's weigh-in, it does not tell the whole story.  From last MONDAY until now, I've lost 5 pounds, after gaining back nearly all of what I lost last week.

Which is stupid.  Really, really, stupid.

What this means is that I am perfectly capable of losing around 5 pounds per week.  As hard as I work and as well as I'm eating, this is a completely reasonable expectation.  But because I am FREAKING INSANE, I'm ending up with a net loss of 1 pound.  Or even zero pounds sometimes.

Not reasonable.  Not even a little bit.

I work too hard and need this TOO BADLY to keep failing myself in this way week after week, month after month.

So I have a new goal.  No more gaining on the weekends.  I WILL, at the very least, maintain for the weekend, so that those five gross pounds (emphasis on gross) become five NET pounds.

And so that, when my friends go and Google the definition of insanity, they won't see this:

I'll be back Monday to report.