So this week I totally pigged out. I was never hungry and there was a little guilt.
I exercised twice by hiking/pushing a stroller (one and the same in my neighborhood) for an hour. I thought it was productive.
But when I went to weigh myself this morning I was sure the numbers wouldn't be pretty. I thought I might even have gained some. Imagine my delight when the scale said I LOST:
4.2 lbs.
Throw a freakin' party! I think I did a little dance before announcing my success to Charming. This is seriously painless. Yes, I have had to pass up a few yummies, but I don't feel deprived seeing as how I can eat other food (meaning no grains) until I'm full. I can even have reasonable amounts of icecream. Actually, last night I had extremely unreasonable amounts of icecream and I am still cheerful!
Huzzah and Woot Woot!!!
I plan on keeping this up this next week--and perhaps walking three days this week? I am keeping my fingers crossed that my good luck (or hard work) keeps up.
I'm not particularly feeling in a bloggy mood today, but I did weigh myself this morning as usual and I lost:
2.2 lbs.
Again, like last week, at first I was disappointed. I knew I could do better and I knew that I had probably gained a little weight the second half of the week. However, this is still a pretty good number considering that I'm not going hungry and I'm not exercising. I did walk Buttercup to school a couple times and that was nice, but this week I (maybe) hope to get some extra hiking in in the morning while pushing Farm Boy around in the stroller.
I've also been taking the herbal/natural/whatever pills and I don't think they're making a difference. I'll still finish out the bottle and see it to the end.
I've done a lot of thinking (and starving) lately and have made a few decisions for the present time. I've decided to go off of grains for awhile in order to cleanse my body of the unhealthy effects of polluted grains that I constantly am taking into my system. Also it should help drop some weight pretty quickly, which I am all about. Don't freak out, it's really nothing extreme! I can't explain the benefits that well since I don't speak Science, but I got a lot of eye-opening information at wellnessmama.com.
I've been pretty good at keeping my diet goals the last two days. Still, I haven't been 100%--I tasted a roll last night and this morning as I fed them to my children. (Seriously, if I wasn't a short order cook I think this healthy diet thing would work out so much better. But keeping only insanely health food in the house doesn't fit into my job description. I know I should just force my children into the healthy stuff, but truly they are the pickiest eaters since I myself was young.... younger.)
So I ate a roll. And then I felt guilty.
And then I felt like I had blown The whole Plan.
And then I got over it.
Exercise: I did walk around the block last night in the dark with a fabulous friend. I wore my flip flops and of course my knees began hurting before I could turn a corner, but I sucked it up and finished the job. It was really a delightful stroll/hike, and I probably damaged my knees worse. Ah well. I'll get into some real exercising soon--probably next week when I get Buttercup and Lou Lou back into school and settled and I can then focus on working out. I thought I would put Farmboy in the stroller and go all around my beautiful mountain neighborhood for an hour every morning--while wearing my good tennies with the inserts of course. Please bless that my knees won't hurt.
Anywho, so now I'm thinking I will still eat my sensible meals, but with more protein and less carbs--almost like an Atkins thing. I have high hopes as long as I can find something to do with myself when I'm feeling emotional. My first thought is always to go straight to the cupboard/freezer/whatever, but this is also no longer an option. I need a hobby. Perhaps I should actually do some of the crafts I've pinned from Pinterest.
Also, my most darling sister The Princess has just joyfully informed me that she most likely will be coming to stay for the weekend. Wonderful news--however, my way of entertaining and celebrating usually involves meals smothered in butter and chocolate chip cookies galore. I have really got to find an alternate way of feeling happy--or expressing happiness. This is not easy. This is one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do.
As of late it has become exceedingly apparent that I have been eating way too many spoonfuls of peanut butter (see previous post). As a matter of fact, peanut butter and other such comes-from-a-can-and-very-quickly-puts-a-smile-on-my-face foods are about all I remember of the last year. Just as 1+1=2, peanut butter (etc.etc.) + no exercise = larger body and smaller wardrobe. In turn, this leads to a very tired and sloppily dressed megs.
I can point my finger wherever I like to place blame, and so I will.
First and foremost, I am hungry. You can find me at any hour of the day planning what my next meal (or snack) will be while simultaneously nibbling on a few cups of chocolate chips. (Hey, they're small. Don't give me that.) Will the universe just make me full already?
Secondly, I am emotional. The reasons for this hideous problem I could name by the thousands, but today I am going to highlight my crazy hormones as the main culprit. If you'd like to know more please feel free to call me while I sob into the phone for an hour or two. Or maybe we'll just go shopping... Anywho, the point is that I literally eat my emotions and they've built a homestead on my thighs. And my chin.
Thirdly, I have three babies. Well, they're not all babies currently, but they once were and they've taken a toll on my poor body. And can I just say that I have an eternal hatred towards women who look like models from the back and are 8 1/2 months pregnant in the front. My body however is under the impression that babies are to be carried in your bum, and so it would naturally follow that my bottom would sag just as any mother's post-partum belly would.
Fourthly--and really this reason could fit into excuses numbers 1,2, and 3--I miscarried a baby earlier this year. Hungry, hormones, babies. Nuff said.
Fifthly, I walk funny and my bones and joints are all in wonky places. This has been confirmed by my physical therapist husband Charming--and for good measure, a chiropractor. Almost all exercise attempted results in much pain. Like me screaming that my knees are going to explode kind of pain. Whatever.
And sixthly, MY BODY HATES ME. This is a proven matter of fact. Perhaps I haven't given it enough reasons to love me, or perhaps it's still mad about those ballet lessons in 2nd grade. Whatever the reason, it wants to torture me. The end.
Well, not necessarily the end. I mean, chubby megs is fine and all to be for the moment, but after a moment or two you could say it gets annoying having to wear a skirt because none of your pants fit you. And having four gorgeous not-that-much-younger sisters constantly reminding me of what beauty and athleticism look like. Sigh.
Hence The Plan.
The Plan is not that finely tuned as of yet, but I'm here today to say that I'm working on it. I am going to be dieting myself into a better body image, as well as adding exercise (it tends to help).
In the past I have done Weight Watchers and was very successful. However, WW is getting a little old to me and I am sick of counting Points. For a week or so I am going to be seeing how strong my willpower is (and I think I'm frustrated enough that it might be pretty strong). WW might make a triumphant return if I can't seem to get a handle on
things on my own. Counting calories may also be an option.
I plan on eating three super-sensible meals a day with free fruit whenever I like. Usually I don't like fruit--I would prefer a large scoop of Nutella thankyouverymuch, but obviously this can't happen anymore.
I will be drinking lots of water and starting small with walks around the neighborhood. That will gradually build until I can get back into step aerobics and riding my stationary bike. I'll aim for exercising 30 minutes, 5 times a week, to start.
Also, I have a bottle of "natural" diet pills that I will be taking starting in a week after I see how I've done on my own. This first week will be a control to see if the pills are really doing anything. And please don't tell me not to take the pills. You can tell me to be careful, but I think these pills are pretty organic and will not be hurting me. If they hurt anything it will be my pocketbook.
I've decided to use my blog as another way to check in and keep me motivated. Every Monday I'll be weighing myself in and reporting my weight loss. No, you don't get to know my original poundage because that is a rude question and how embarrassing! Let's just say it's somewhere between ouch and ludicrous. This week I haven't lost anything--the scale has just confirmed my worst fears. Meh. Continuing on. Once a month I will post a current picture of myself, so we can see the progress. (Picture coming soon.)
And when I say we, I mean anyone who is interested. I understand that just because you are my cousin or my friend from highschool you still may not be interested in the mundane details of my hopeful attempt to get in shape #183. Feel free to run away and check back in a year to laugh at me.
Not. I am gonna be so hott. Ahem.
As for those of you who feel supportive or just curious even--welcome. I could use all the help I can get.
Today is one of those days when I must do everything or I must do nothing. How do you find the balance of what is worthwhile and needful compared to simply going through the expected motions of your life? Don't panic--the children have been fed. (That falls under the needful category. I've found if you don't feed them everyday they get noticeably upset.) They have also been clothed and brushed and what-have-you. Is it worth it for me to marinate some chicken for dinner when I haven't even showered yet? Is it even a good idea to shower when I haven't done my expected workout? Why should I workout when it takes up a huge chunk of my morning and really I'm just so tired? It makes sense that I would be tired after reading a whole book in one sitting until 2:00am last night. But I needed to read that book, the same way I need chocolate when I'm stressed. (Oh, and I ate a bunch of chocolate chips too, which consequently gave me a headache. Huge Costco bag of chocolate chips? Best idea ever. Or worst.) So what is needful? What is the most important thing? This question always points to the best of all answers--you know, the ones you always repeat in sunday school: Pray, then read the scriptures. Huh, guess I'd better go get my priorities straight. I know there are women out there who are just like me, who have days of doubt and confusion of purpose. Sometimes it helps to know that you're not the only one struggling with everyday life--the only one who misses the seemingly obvious answers. It won't last forever. Just take one step at a time. Okay, now I'm going to go following the prompting. Then perhaps I'll start with getting dressed...
Why do you hate me? It is a question I have been longing to ask throughout the years, ever since I noticed the continuity of really ugly, loud, repetitive frog-like hiccups and torturous periods.
Did you not see what a sweet toddler I was? Instead you cursed me with nightly leg-aches that plague me to this day (and then decided to pass them on to dear, sweet Buttercup I might add). You filled my teenage years with acne and klutzyness. Why do you still insist on daily stubbing my toe and kunging my elbow on a passing wall/dresser/lamp? It would be nice if once in awhile you would kindly do your job and send my brain a signal that my limbs are so long and there are big objects obstructing my path and thus my arm/leg/head/hip perhaps ought to move over a bit to make room.
I have tried so hard to be kind to you--reaching out to you with the hand of friendship by doing endless step-aerobics, washing my face nightly, and eating vegetables. But those gestures of love you have thrown back in my face like a slap. What was with those terrible pregnancies and the so-not-necessary extra weight gain? Why?
I will never give up, because that would mean the war is over and you have won. But I do have a small request for you. It shouldn't be too difficult to handle. When you decide to smite me with a physical abnormality/disease/bothersome random symptoms, could you please make it clear what the actual underlying problem is? I'm really sick of these guessing games, so really it would help us both out if you could just be open and honest. And then give the doctors proof that I'm not a hypochondriac the next time they decide to do an expensive test/procedure.
Body, I know we've had some rough times, but we could start over and begin a new relationship right now if you're willing to cooperate. I want to love you. Please trust me. Please stop the madness.
This last year has been a changing one in several ways. I've adjusted to having two children rather than just the one. I've worried and celebrated and then worried again when we prayed Charming would get into a Physical Therapy School, and then when he was accepted, and then when we realized we were moving to North Dakota. I've dealt with some heavy emotional and minor medical issues. Right here I was about to trump this entire list by stating: "But the biggest thing of all...", but I don't think that either having a child or moving can be trumped that easily. Nevertheless, today I am feeling vain and would like to state that my favorite life-changing thing about this last year is my body.
Yes, that's right. My body. I don't say that to sound sensual--my body is anything but that. I say it because my body has become functional, and there's nothing more fabulous than a body that works for you.
I was never the athletic type and would rather have washed my mother's baseboards than play baseball--let alone run the "fun run" (a sick term the PE department from my school came up to enthuse the students into running their weekly mile in class). I wasn't chubby, nor was I slim--just your average girl who wanted to be skinnier. Still, I felt I had a handle on things and didn't think I was out of shape.
And then my shape changed. Two babies later and I had gained enough weight to equal the equivalent of both of their current bodyweights plus a sack of flour or two. Obviously I didn't like the way I looked, and even more hated the way I felt: in my clothes, sitting, standing, breathing etc. I was plain uncomfortable and I knew that had to change. My mother tells me this is where my strengths lie--in seeing a problem and using all I have to fix it. I knew it wouldn't be easy, and that I would want to quit several times over, but I was angry with myself for letting myself go that far.
I turned my frustration into determination. I signed up for Weight Watchers Online and made an exercise goal for each week. I got rid of my excuses and decided I wanted to be in shape more than anything else. I worked SO hard. I watched as the pounds slowly melted off as the weeks went by. I was shocked as the months passed and found myself buying workout equipment--an aerobic step, a stability ball, and small weights. I found my endurance level rising, my heavy breathing becoming calmer during my workouts, stairs were no longer a problem--and best of all, I could run around the yard with my children without exerting myself or pausing for breath. Yes, I lost a lot of weight. That's been wonderful and worth it for my self-esteem and my wardrobe. But even better is that I feel good. I have never been healthier in my life--never, not even in my teenage years.
So this morning I decided to do something I have never done before--something I never dreamed I would voluntarily do. I went jogging. Yup. Admittedly, I was a bit nervous. I knew I was in better shape than I've ever been, but that doesn't mean I'm in "great shape" by anybody's standards but my own. Even so, I began with a warmup and then headed out. It was exhilarating, moving under the speed of my own feet. It was overcast and there was a slight breeze, just right for a jog. I probably went for a 1/3 of a mile and then had to slow down to a walk. After a bit I bumped it back up again and went around the block a couple times. It was short, and kicked my trash, but it was a jog and I did it! Something I never thought I would or could do. For me this is the biggest milestone yet.
I intend to keep my new regimen up--short workouts five days a week and making small changes in my diet. That part is simple enough for me now, and worth the pain (yes, I still hate working out most days). Now, if I could only find a way to avoid future pregnancy weight gain. Surrogate, anyone?
