Quitting

What?!

2.5 pounds?! I gained 2.5 pounds?!!

Insert expletive here.
For the first six weeks of this project, I joked about the scale. It was picking on me, haha. But this is not funny.

Two weeks ago I had my most successful diet/exercise week. I did everything right. I entered everything I ate into the weightwatchers site. I ate Lean Cuisine meals (wretch!) for lunch most days, and in the evenings I dutifully counted calories and points. I ran 3.5 miles almost every day. Saturday I ran 5.5 miles. The days I didn't run, I hiked at least as far.

Then came Monday - weigh-in day. I had gained 2.5 pounds. I double checked the work scale against the gym scale. Yep - 2.5 pounds. After all that work?

All I could think was: "F*ck this. I quit."

I mourned my failure for about 48 hours. Not 48 hours straight. It came in waves. When I wasn't grieving, I was eating. It was a depressing, yet delicious, couple of days.

During this time, I got a lot of advice. I have listed my favorite bits of advice below:

"Muscle weighs more than fat." -- My muscle must be extremely heavy.

"Maybe you're body has gone into survival mode because you've changed things so drastically, so you're storing fat." -- Genius, body. Genius.

"Scales are evil. Avoid them at all cost." -- My second favorite piece of advice.

"Give yourself a couple of hours twice a week to eat whatever you want. It'll shock your body." -- Best advice. Ever.

It was a rough week as I contemplated what to do next. I bounced between self-deprivation and self-indulgence, depression and defiance, obsessing and ignoring. And then, as I was running today (I haven't Quit with a capital "Q" - I've only quit - small "q"), I realized it was time to go back to the beginning.

At the beginning of this endeavor, I wrote the following:

I'm not doing weightwatchers again. I'm not joining any clubs or using any products. I'm not wearing shape-up shoes, and I'm not spending every day at the gym. I'm doing it healthy, and I'm doing it my way. I'm not sure what my way is yet. But I'll be chronicling it here as I figure it out. Every day. Every pound.

So, I'm going back to the beginning. Today I finally Quit weightwatchers. I said I quit before, but I had only quit (small "q") in that I wasn't recording everything I ate and weighing in. The big secret -- I was still a paying member. And gradually I got sucked back in. I drank the Kool-Aid years ago, and the effects are long-lasting. But today I did it. I canceled my account. I Quit.

It felt amazing. It actually made me laugh out loud.

The other change I'm making... no more scale. I know I set a goal of 30 pounds, and I know I promised to post my successes, pound by pound. But the bottom line?

it's my blog and I'll change it if I want to.

For now, at least... no more weigh-ins. I'm judging my success on how I feel. After all, it's not hard to know if you've lost weight. I don't need a fancy device screaming numbers at me. Either my pants will button or they won't.

Luckily my life gives me plenty of grist for the mill. It does not leave me lacking for blogging material. (Let's face it... I'm fascinating.) So the blog will go on.

And the Scale Laughs On

I'm sure you have been dying of curiosity, so I'll just spill. Have I lost any weight?

YES! (cue fanfare)



















Last week, according to our high-tech doctor's scale at work, I had lost a whopping .4 pounds. (That's point four. Not four. In case you weren't sure.)

But today when I stepped on the scale, it said that I had actually lost... wait for it... 3 pounds.

I know I should have been thrilled, but it was hard to be overjoyed by this small victory. It didn't make any sense. A month of grueling exercise and strict dieting had gotten me nowhere. But after one weekend spent eating and napping, I finally lose a few pounds? How is this fair?

Easter Weekend
I had planned to be good. I really had. I even did my 25 minute run in the sleet on Friday. But the evil forces were too strong. And I was outnumbered.

Mom and Zack made lamb, roasted potatoes and asparagus.
Bill baked a ham.
Zack brought brie smothered with caramel, walnuts, and cranberries, along with truffle patte.
Beck's brother sent over homemade chocolate-covered peanut butter eggs.
And Ethan whipped up a batch of his homemade mayonnaise. (Yes, mayonnaise. For what, you may ask? To which I counter, does mayonnaise really need a reason?)

Add to that a few pounds of jelly belly jelly beans and Easter m&ms, and you've got an all-out pig-out.

So I expected the scale to break under my weight, but instead it revealed my first success.

I'm sure there is a lesson here. If you work too hard for something you'll never get it? Seems counter-intuitive. But maybe it's true.

If that's the case, I plan to rethink all this hard work.

According to the scale, hard work is for assholes.

(And in case you were wondering, homemade mayo with chocolate covered peanut butter eggs? Delicious.)

Shed It

I haven't blogged in a while because it has all just been too depressing. In spite of doing everything right, I haven't lost any weight. I'm finally on the right track. No more brownies, no more cupcakes, no more chocolate bars. I'm working out every day, and I'm even plugging the numbers in at the dreaded WW site.

I had been trying to keep it light, make a joke of it. But let's face it, I'm working my ass off and depriving myself of all the treats I used to look forward to.

I was not prepared for this to be soooo hard.

I blame my age. I blame the scale. I sometimes even blame Ethan (an old habit).

So here I am -- four weeks into this nightmare of a plan, and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing but distraction, frustration, and really, really tight jeans.

Not to mention the fact that the deadline for my first goal has come and gone.

Meanwhile, the scale just laughs.

***
This weekend on the drive back from New York, I listened to a live concert CD of one of my favorite singers -- Glen Hansard (of Swell Season, Once, and The Frames fame). Between songs, Mr. Hansard, a wonderful story teller, explains the meaning behind his songs. I've listened to this CD hundreds of times, I'm sure. But each time something different strikes me. This time what stuck with me was this line:

"Fuckin' shed it."

I can't remember the exact quote, but the gyst of it was simply this: If there is something in your life that you are carrying around with you - something that weighs you down - something that you don't need and you'd be better off without -- fuckin' shed it.

I smiled when I heard that line. And as I smiled I felt lighter.

I hadn't even realized how heavy I had begun to feel in these last four weeks. I didn't realize just how much this losing battle was sucking the life out of me.

And I wondered... should I give up? Should I just try to accept myself as I am? Is this need to change all part of the usual self-loathing that drives so much of what I do? Would I be better off just allowing myself to be the fat girl? Could I love the fat girl?

And then my devious brain started to churn.

I wondered... should I keep trying but just stay away from scales for a few weeks?

And then I thought... maybe I ought to try P90X.

And then... Wii fit is supposed to be good.

Followed by... what about that boxing video I used to do when I was 22 - the one with the guy with the eye patch. That could be the answer.

By the time I got home I had decided to get up at 5:00 the next morning to take a run.

When I hit snooze until 6:00 the next morning, I went to work angry at myself, angry at my job, angry at my friends, angry at running, and angry at food. All of these things were against me. It was clearly a conspiracy.

Mid-morning as I was working hard not to take a patient's pain on as my own, I remembered the line... fuckin' shed it.

I'm thinking of having t-shirts printed up. But I'm afraid people will think it's a weight loss slogan.

Text Exchange: JL and CH

JL to CH:
I went to the gym. What do I get.*

CH:
Cake. Yellow.

*No cake was eaten as the result of this text.

Panic: Part Two

So, it turns out that I did not gain back all the weight that I had lost. At least, if I did, I lost it all again.

Scales. I hate scales. They can't be trusted.

The shocker is that I did not go crazy and punish myself by eating until I had gained back all the weight like I usually would have. I kept going to the gym, even though it was horrifying to put on those awful, tight workout pants and walk out in front of all those gym-goers, fat spilling out over my waistband. I went.

Portions are smaller. Cravings are less extreme. Workouts are getting longer. And somewhat easier. Today I ran a few minutes at 5.4 mph. I started at 5.0 my first week. Then last week I moved up to 5.2. Now 5.4. So that's progress.

Today at the gym for the first time, I felt just a little bit thinner. Even though I haven't really lost a substantial amount of weight, I felt like my body had changed. Not in any way that anyone else can see. Not even in any way that I can see. But I do feel different. Just a tiny little bit different.

Also, I am now aware that I am teetering on the edge of obsession. Of transferring my obsession with eating to an obsession with losing weight. No surprise there. It's one of the things that has kept me from dieting in the recent past. My tendency to obsess when trying to lose weight.

So -- here we go.

Email Exchange between CH and JL

JL to CH:
So I finally decide to commit to WW again and work has blocked the site. Freaking roadblocks!

CH to JL:
So- the healthy healthcare hospital patient place where there are doctors BLOCKED weight watchers??
what's next? blocking porn sites???
I re-started again today too. My stress levels are so high im afraid im going to infarct if i don't lose some weight and start working out.
so this morning i did fat burning pilates DVD. that's a good one to ease back into a workout. it's challenging without being discouraging.
Downside - my living room rug smells like pee.
#cantwin

JL to CH:
Stop peeing on your living room rug.

P.S. Kudos to you for doing a workout in the a.m.

Question... since I can't access WW, I can have a piece of the cake that is currently in the breakroom, right?

CH to JL:

1. i can't stop peeing on the rug. Once there is pee there- that's where i have to pee

2. i know right??? an AM workout! Of course I was 2 hours late to work...

3. Absolutely- unless it's some kind of cake with dried fruits in it. Those are NOT allowed under any circumstances

JL to CH:

1. That's why I only pee on the pee pad.

2. I don't care if you slept until 11:50 and did your first "hundred" at 11:59... that's morning, man.

3. The cake was yellow, which as you know is the most delicious color.

4. I've decided to blame my weight loss failure on WW for changing from their original program - the one that I actually lost weight on. (And on Ethan, because almost everything is his fault.)

CH to JL:
Mmmm. Yellow.

I'm Not Panicking

OK, I'm panicking a little.

I stepped on the scale today. If you believe the scale, I have gained four pounds since last weigh-in. Four pounds.

Maybe. If each brownie I ate yesterday weighed a pound.

If I hadn't lost any weight, that might make sense.

But four pounds?

I'm praying that it's hormonal. I have been known to gain up to seven pounds during PMS. So four pounds wouldn't be shocking. But I'm on the pill. Continuously. No periods. No PMS. Not since November.

The pill. The pill, the pill, the pill. It's hard to ignore that most of my weight gain has occurred since November. How much of where I find myself now could be related to going on the pill?

But that's beside the point, right? It is what it is. I am where I am. There's no going back. Only forward. And if I had to choose between no more cramps, no more PMS, and no more crazies or being 15 pounds thinner... well, that's a tough one. But in the end, I think I'd choose the former.

In spite of the fact that I should not be getting my period, I have felt crampy and grumpy for a few days now. So if it means that I need to make a GYN appointment, I'd rather that than a four pound gain. Four pounds in less than a week. That puts me one pound over my starting weight.

But I'm not panicking. Not at all.

Week Three

About eight years ago, when I was living in New York, my therapist told me that the chocolate manufacturers put something in the chocolate to make you want more and more. So that the more you ate, the more you wanted. She said that it was especially true with the poorer quality stuff, and that the lower the cocoa content in the chocolate, the more your tongue craved bite after bite after bite.

But then, she also let her pet bird fly freely around her apartment and crap all over her strange paintings. So what did she know.

Progress Note - Week Three


Gym: 3 times

Miles: 6 Running, 12 Hiking = 18 miles total

Running: I don't feel quite as wimpy as I did last week. Usually just about half way into the last five-minute segment of running, I start to feel like I can get to the end of that five minutes. Although the preceding 3- and 5-minute segments felt like they might kill me. It makes me wonder if maybe I should have started from the beginning of the plan. (What a concept.) Maybe I'll repeat last week's routine this week.

Hiking: The 3-mile hikes actually feel a lot less grueling than they used to. Except on the nights that I do the hike after going to the gym. Those nights are exhausting. Those nights it feels like all I do in life is go to work and exercise. If it weren't for my adorable 80-pound puppy making me smile, it might all feel pretty pointless.

Food: Not bad actually. Lots of chicken and rice, lots of greens, a lot less chocolate. Until today. Today I made brownies for my dog-sitter's birthday. The cupcakes last week were for her too, but she kept having to cancel, so I ate them all eventually. Today, she canceled again. So here I am with a pan of brownies. I'd be lying if I said I ate fewer than 6. And I have to say, she's had her last chance for a birthday treat.

Hunger: Not too bad. I think I'm starting to recognize the difference between cravings and hunger. My tongue is really mad at me most of the time.

Cravings: Lots and lots. Spicy food seems to help -- kills all sensation after one reasonably sized portion. Although my reflux isn't thrilled with this new craving-killing scheme.

Willpower: Improved. Until today. But even today felt different with the brownies. It almost felt more like a habit, putting one in my mouth after the other, rather than a craving. But I did notice that it was really only when I didn't know what to do next that I wanted a brownie. Between projects, between tasks -- all that fun weekend stuff -- when I wasn't sure what I was going to do next... laundry, cleaning, taxes, budget... or maybe napping for a while -- when I wasn't sure, I wanted a brownie. Moments of insecurity, apparently. Perhaps that says a lot about me and food. Perhaps it says absolutely nothing.

Weight loss: Apparently 3 pounds, if you trust the scale. I'm in week three, so that's normal -- one pound per week. That's what I was hoping for. But the three pound weight loss appears to have occurred over the course of 2 days. Hmm.

So it occurs to me that with a 30-pound weight-loss goal, I ought to have a few shorter term goals. I don't know if these are appropriate, but here's what I've come up with:

Five pounds by April 14.

Ten pounds by May 19.

Fifteen pounds by June 23.

Twenty pounds by July 28.

Twenty-five pounds by September 1.

Thirty pounds by October 6.

I'm most nervous about April 14. It seems like it's right around the corner, and I just don't feel like much is really happening yet. And I'm not convinced that I won't get on the scale tomorrow to find that I haven't lost a pound, or have gained it all back.

Fucking brownies.