Big Girls Don't Fry

Here We Go Again….

Oh holidays…I wish you were able to help me write a tale of inspiration. I had hoped to be an unlikely hero in the land of cookies, candy, and just plain deliciousness. Alas, I have failed. I ate the homemade garlic bread, the cranberry biscotti, and savored every bite of the pizzelles that I watched eggs and oil create the batter for. I slept in, I skipped the gym, I found an excuse for everything, and I had the nerve to be upset when it showed up on the scales.

For me failure meant I needed some new motivation. The new Weight Watcher’s program truly did not win my heart over. It was not the kick start I had hoped for. In fact, I found it not only frustrated me, but made the slipping up even easier to do.

Even the ball dropping on New Year’s Eve, and the reading of other people’s resolutions were not enough to make me put the chocolate cracker candy down, and think about the success I have already achieved, and how quickly I could destroy my progress.

This week I found 2 new motivations.. I booked a trip to Vegas with my boyfriend. No, I am not concerned with how hot I can look in a bathing suit, or where I will find the littlest black dress. My motivator is a little bit more irrational, and slightly amusing to others, but not myself. I have been sitting here thinking, I hope I am not the fat guy they kick off the plane, and dear god let me fit in my seat. It would be a really long ride if I have to ride in baggage. I laugh when I say this, but it sadly is truly a concern. Those seats are small and I for one am not!

The second event occurred this morning, and I know the only way I will truly feel better about it is to share. We went to the doctor this morning to talk about trying to conceive. We are trying to do the right thing by approaching it before hand. We are not 14 and & 15 year olds that may have made a mistake…We are adults, making adult decisions, looking for some guidance. I saw a midwife that had come recommended by a friend. The woman came into the office, spent about 8 minutes with us. No looking into my health history. No questions at all. Just a lecture that I can die at my weight and also kill a baby, among other things. (The irony is, she weighed about 300 pounds herself) Don’t come back until you lose 50-70 pounds and your boyfriend marries you was the basic gist of the visit. Marriage has no medical bearing on pregnancy. It was cold, and it was cruel. I cried when I got home most of the morning, and then spent the day hearing stories from some of my friends that were or are overweight during pregnancy. I feel somewhat better, not all hope is lost, and it is a more than generous nudge that I need to continue doing what I am doing, but I wish it had been approached differently. I also wish that skinny was not seen as healthy and fat was not seen as unhealthy. There are so many unhealthy average weight pregnancies, and healthy plus size pregnancies. It is all risky, and I understand eliminating some of the factors, but no thank you, I do not need your permission.

I am on the right track, and will continue to weigh my options, but in the meantime, I am glad to have found some light at the end of a scary new tunnel.

Tempting Offer….

This week brought a one pound weight loss. Total 10.4. This is definitely moving slower than one would hope, and when I say hope, I mean expect.  I was happy with my tiny loss this week, after all I had dined out 4 times over the week. I also  realized dining out was not the enemy, and neither was I.  The real devil in the room is temptation.   Temptation you jerk, you taunt me, and worst of all you make me question the decisions I make.  Then I remember something, this is not short term. This is a forever change that along with many others I will FOREVER battle, and though the words forever and permanent are very similar…it is harder to think I am making a permanent change.  Permanent to me means immediate, it means I would never hit uneasy ground like I did this week.  I picked menu items I knew were wise, I calculated what I could and could not have, but it didn’t mean I didn’t steal a french fry off someones plate at the end of the night. There it was again, temptation, sneaking in. And on Sunday night, out of my own zip code, I gave in.  There must have been 30 deep fried morsels offered on the menu and I think I may have glazed over at some point. I couldn’t hold out. Deep fried pickle chips, you were mine! I savored you. I dipped and dunked you in sauces. I ate you slow and waited for the guilt to settle in. 

Then something funny happened….the guilt never came.

I worked out this week more than I have in 6 years. I made conscious decisions to eat healthy all week, and I also made the conscious decision to give in and have something i REALLY wanted….I didn’t go overboard. I didn’t get angry.

Not every week will be a loss and not every choice is going to be easy. I think without the existence of temptation, you can’t enjoy the sweet (fat free-calorie free) taste of success.

I will work (it all) out….

I will work it all out…

This week I lost 1.2 pounds. Total of 9.4 over 6 weeks. It seems to be the slowest progression ever. I do realize I have to get moving, not run a marathon moving, or swim across the lake moving, but more like not get winded up 3 flights of stairs kind of moving.  I joined the gym, and all of it’s scary 1 year payment plan glory.

Day two of going to the gym. This place is like a ghost town, and still the 4 or 5 people working out scare me.  I am extremely intimidated. Day one I decided to start off in the pool. I ended up walking in the old lady brigade and I am okay with that, they love to talk, I asked them lots of questions, and then when I felt the mood strike I passed them and speed up my pool strut.

You don’t see a lot of big people wandering around in the gym. I can only assume it is some of the same reasons I feel so “little” (for lack of other words) when I am there.  The only machine I truly know how to work is the treadmill. Everything else has spokes and buttons galore and god forbid I make the wrong move.  Headed to the gym for me is definitely a lot like being a bull in a china shop.  That’s okay, I’ll figure it out.

I promised myself I would go this time with or without a buddy. I don’t need someone to hold my hand…(although it might be nice).  I’m not going to worry about makeup, or what I’m wearing, or if I’m jiggling on the machine.  I’m going to remind myself this is all about me (and maybe a little bit about the fact I signed a one year agreement but secretly know I deserve to be spending this money on myself if it gets me to a better place). The guys next to me may be going 10x faster, and looking a lot better while they do it, but eventually they will fade away. I won’t notice because I will have found a happy place right there in the middle of all this crazy machinery where everything stops, just so I can move.