Today's Starting Weight: 251.8
Spanx Size: E
End of Phase 1: 10 days
It's so cold! Four degrees? Really. I am freezing. And what do I love when it is this cold? Hot chocolate with marshmallows. What can I not have? Hot chocolate with marshmallows. Suck.
Another problem I have with the cold is the limitations it has placed on me in regards to activity. I do not want to take my kids out in this crap. The roads aren't bad, but it's just cold enough that our crappy car would probably break down somewhere. I refuse to take that chance with my kids. I mean, right now it is 4 degrees with a windchill of -15! What the heck??? That means we have spent a lot of time this week snuggling under blankets, watching movies. Great moments with the kids; however, diet fall backs.
I have not been active. I have not been exercising. Mostly, I've been laying around under massive blankets trying to get warm. So I kinda feel like I am only doing half of my diet. I'm eating all the right things, just not doing anything to work off those good calories. Good calories can be bad if they're not used properly.
And I also realized I am not drinking enough water. Before bed last night I realized I was really thirsty. Thinking back over my day, I counted only two glasses of water and a 6 oz. can of V8. So I need to increase my water intake. Today I managed a glass of low-fat milk and three glasses of water. That's a little bit better, but not anywhere near what I should be drinking per day.
Today's diet meltdown was over Velveeta shells & cheese. I made some for the kids and I thought I was totally going to cave. When I started squeezing the cheese into the pan, some of it landed on my finger. I stood there, staring at it like I was a model trying to walk away from a free line of coke. Finally, I ran, literally, to the sink and washed my hands.
The problem with this diet is not that it is making me eat crap I don't like. It's simply walking away from the things I do. Like blueberries and raspberries in the produce aisle at Dillon's yesterday. OMG they looked so good. Blueberries and raspberries are possibly my favorite foods in the entire food world, which makes it difficult to abstain from them when they are at their prettiest right now.
An unexpected bonus, though, **TMI disclaimer** has been the extra boost in my sex drive. It's been pretty low for some time, well, since around the same time I started gaining the weight. Not that the act of has happened more than usual, just that I am a little bit more interested in it than ten pounds ago. I don't even know if Matt has noticed, but I have. And I guess right now that is all that matters.
Pressing forward to tomorrow...
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight. Show all posts
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Not Possible!
Today's Starting Weight: 255.4 or 257.2... Either way, seems very debatable.
Spanx Size: E
Days Left of Phase 1: 12
Last night I went to bed with a mighty plan in mind: I would wake at 7, eat breakfast, fix snack 1 & lunch, hop in the shower, get ready, & go to work where I would consume said snack and lunch. The mighty plan would allow me three hours to do everything I needed to do and get to work. I was very excited about this plan. As I began falling asleep, a brilliant fiction plot tingling at the edges of my mind, I thought to myself, I'm so lucky to have a husband that wakes me every morning. And then I fell into a deep sleep.
You can see where this is going, I am sure.
Cut to 8:45 this morning, just an hour and fifteen minutes until I have to be at work when I woke from said sleep, my wonderful husband sleeping in for the first time in... maybe ever. I didn't just wake. My eyes peeled open like the skin of a banana, the sunlight gazed my cornea, and I felt a warm body next to me. I made a bit of a commotion then, jumping up and climbing, an act better described as scrambling, over my still sleeping husband. I ran into the hallway and realized my kids were still asleep. At least, they had been before my outburst. Matt made my breakfast, I made the snack and lunch, got clean and dressed and headed out the door six minutes before I had to be at the store.
Yes, it is true I live very close to my work. No, it is not true that I can make it there in six minutes without breaking a few laws. So, laws were broken while I shoveled scrambled Southwestern Egg-Whites into my mouth. I arrived without breaking anything or anyone, save a few speeding restrictions. At work, I tried to eat my snack, but the cilantro mayo was too much for my feeble taste buds. I ended up eating my salad when I got home.
These trivial moments are not really important, though. Before I stepped into the shower, I stepped onto the scale. Now, please remember, Dear Readers, that just yesterday the same scale scowled at me from under the weight of 261.2 pounds. This morning, standing in my pajamas - same pajamas I took the previous shameful weight in - the scale read 255.4 pounds. Now, I am a realist. And a pessimist. There is no way in... well, in all of the scalding flames of hell that I lost almost 6 pounds in one day. There just isn't. So, I got cleaned, dressed, and stood on the scale again.
I stood very still, watching the lines blink in the reflection of the bathroom tile while the scale computed. I am always so afraid to move when I check my weight; what if a simple movement, such as looking down, causes the scale to read incorrectly? When I check my weight, I stand on the scale, my head straight, my eyes peering down like those movie librarians peering over their glasses, waiting to see a jumbled reflection of numbers, rather than lines. Once I see the numbers, I finally allow myself to move.
So the numbers arrived. I glanced down to read... and the scale read... 257.2. Clearly there was an error. So, I weighed myself three more times. Each time, the numbers read 257.2. What??? Even after seeing the numbers, my mind refused to accept it. I told the scale, "We'll just see tomorrow," like I was threatening it with punishment, or something.
So here is my new rule. Every morning, I will perform my weigh-ins in nothing but my skivvies. This will help to rule out any unintentional mis-weighs. I think that is only right.
But, just in case you are like me and every other child that ever peeled the wrapping paper back trying to get a glimpse at the present underneath (Come on - I know you did it, too.), let me leave you with this unbelievable truth. Tonight, after dinner, I went to the bathroom. I stepped on the scale, fully clothed. It read 261.2. I checked it many times. I stripped to my skivvies, stepped on the scale, and it read 257.0. I called Matt in, made him stand on the scale. Then I made him stand on the scale holding my pile of clothes. What did we find? A 4.2 pound difference. Lesson? Weigh without your clothes, Ladies. The truth is much more pleasant than the lie.
Spanx Size: E
Days Left of Phase 1: 12
Last night I went to bed with a mighty plan in mind: I would wake at 7, eat breakfast, fix snack 1 & lunch, hop in the shower, get ready, & go to work where I would consume said snack and lunch. The mighty plan would allow me three hours to do everything I needed to do and get to work. I was very excited about this plan. As I began falling asleep, a brilliant fiction plot tingling at the edges of my mind, I thought to myself, I'm so lucky to have a husband that wakes me every morning. And then I fell into a deep sleep.
You can see where this is going, I am sure.
Cut to 8:45 this morning, just an hour and fifteen minutes until I have to be at work when I woke from said sleep, my wonderful husband sleeping in for the first time in... maybe ever. I didn't just wake. My eyes peeled open like the skin of a banana, the sunlight gazed my cornea, and I felt a warm body next to me. I made a bit of a commotion then, jumping up and climbing, an act better described as scrambling, over my still sleeping husband. I ran into the hallway and realized my kids were still asleep. At least, they had been before my outburst. Matt made my breakfast, I made the snack and lunch, got clean and dressed and headed out the door six minutes before I had to be at the store.
Yes, it is true I live very close to my work. No, it is not true that I can make it there in six minutes without breaking a few laws. So, laws were broken while I shoveled scrambled Southwestern Egg-Whites into my mouth. I arrived without breaking anything or anyone, save a few speeding restrictions. At work, I tried to eat my snack, but the cilantro mayo was too much for my feeble taste buds. I ended up eating my salad when I got home.
These trivial moments are not really important, though. Before I stepped into the shower, I stepped onto the scale. Now, please remember, Dear Readers, that just yesterday the same scale scowled at me from under the weight of 261.2 pounds. This morning, standing in my pajamas - same pajamas I took the previous shameful weight in - the scale read 255.4 pounds. Now, I am a realist. And a pessimist. There is no way in... well, in all of the scalding flames of hell that I lost almost 6 pounds in one day. There just isn't. So, I got cleaned, dressed, and stood on the scale again.
I stood very still, watching the lines blink in the reflection of the bathroom tile while the scale computed. I am always so afraid to move when I check my weight; what if a simple movement, such as looking down, causes the scale to read incorrectly? When I check my weight, I stand on the scale, my head straight, my eyes peering down like those movie librarians peering over their glasses, waiting to see a jumbled reflection of numbers, rather than lines. Once I see the numbers, I finally allow myself to move.
So the numbers arrived. I glanced down to read... and the scale read... 257.2. Clearly there was an error. So, I weighed myself three more times. Each time, the numbers read 257.2. What??? Even after seeing the numbers, my mind refused to accept it. I told the scale, "We'll just see tomorrow," like I was threatening it with punishment, or something.
So here is my new rule. Every morning, I will perform my weigh-ins in nothing but my skivvies. This will help to rule out any unintentional mis-weighs. I think that is only right.
But, just in case you are like me and every other child that ever peeled the wrapping paper back trying to get a glimpse at the present underneath (Come on - I know you did it, too.), let me leave you with this unbelievable truth. Tonight, after dinner, I went to the bathroom. I stepped on the scale, fully clothed. It read 261.2. I checked it many times. I stripped to my skivvies, stepped on the scale, and it read 257.0. I called Matt in, made him stand on the scale. Then I made him stand on the scale holding my pile of clothes. What did we find? A 4.2 pound difference. Lesson? Weigh without your clothes, Ladies. The truth is much more pleasant than the lie.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Day 1, and Counting
Today's Starting Weight: 261.2 pounds. Yech.
Starting Spanx Size: E
End of Phase 1: 13 Days
Day one of my diet, and I feel... **gasp** full. Surprising, right?
A few years ago, I took South Beach lunchables to work and dropped ten pounds - from my belly. Without even trying. So when I decided to go on a diet last year, I went with what I knew would work. I started the diet, ignorantly, right before a long list of celebratory events that included cake and ice cream and pie and yumminess and I fell off the wagon before I ever began. The South Beach Diet Super Charged Handbook ($25.95 hardback) and The South Beach Diet Cookbook ($27.95 hardback) became nice shiny paper weights.
Having spent the aforementioned $54 and change on the required reading, I pulled the handbook and cookbook off the shelf yesterday and began creating my diet meal plan and shopping list. To further commit myself to the plan, I spent $65 of my hard earned cash on a subscription to the South Beach Diet webguide. (I rationalized spending the money like so: committing even more cash to this diet in such a trashed economy will guarantee my attentions; and, the first week is a free trial of which I can pull out at any time.)
The website is not as user friendly as Dr. Agatston's team probably believes. However, it does offer some great tools. I set my beginning date and it created a full menu for the week. I then went through the menu, and switched out whatever meals I did not want (mostly egg-based breakfast items). I clicked on the menu items for recipes and the shopping list basically wrote itself.
Cooking for the fam was easy. For breakfast, they scrambled to finish off the Cinnamon Life Cereal, possibly the greatest temptation living in my house today. For lunch, the kids had grilled cheese sandwiches, grapes, and chips with Daddy. Daddy cooked. For dinner, everyone ate what Mommy ate. Neither kids ate the steamed green beans; Grace ate the "mashed potatoes," David did not. Matt said, "Are these potatoes?" I asked him what he thought they were. "Potatoes." I told him it was mashed cauliflower. His response? "Wow. I'd take this over mashed potatoes any day." Hmmm... I don't know that I'd go that far, but they were pretty good.
You may be wondering why I am putting myself through this humiliation, admitting my weight and Spanx size on a world wide mass communication format. By creating for myself an assignment, I have created a source of accountability. I had a dream last night that I woke up and had five followers to this feed, just overnight. I remember thinking in my dream, Wow. Now I really have to stick to this. Look at these people that really want to know if this works or not. Cheesy, I know. But I can't control the cheese in my dreams. It just flows.
When I woke this morning, I had no new followers. (My husband scoped it out last night, if that counts for anything.) I don't know if anyone will ever read this, but the accountability worked today. Because if I am going to slip up and dig my hand in the Cinnamon Life box, I may not be the only one who will know. As a girl who hates to lie, I'd feel guilty about pretending I had a perfect day when I didn't. And I'd have to sign on to my blogspot and write about how I didn't even have the willpower to last the day. And since the good opinion of those around me means that much to me, peer pressure will win out and I will persevere through this diet.
Day one: complete.
Day two: I'm staring you down, and I will be the victor.
Starting Spanx Size: E
End of Phase 1: 13 Days
Day one of my diet, and I feel... **gasp** full. Surprising, right?
A few years ago, I took South Beach lunchables to work and dropped ten pounds - from my belly. Without even trying. So when I decided to go on a diet last year, I went with what I knew would work. I started the diet, ignorantly, right before a long list of celebratory events that included cake and ice cream and pie and yumminess and I fell off the wagon before I ever began. The South Beach Diet Super Charged Handbook ($25.95 hardback) and The South Beach Diet Cookbook ($27.95 hardback) became nice shiny paper weights.
Having spent the aforementioned $54 and change on the required reading, I pulled the handbook and cookbook off the shelf yesterday and began creating my diet meal plan and shopping list. To further commit myself to the plan, I spent $65 of my hard earned cash on a subscription to the South Beach Diet webguide. (I rationalized spending the money like so: committing even more cash to this diet in such a trashed economy will guarantee my attentions; and, the first week is a free trial of which I can pull out at any time.)
The website is not as user friendly as Dr. Agatston's team probably believes. However, it does offer some great tools. I set my beginning date and it created a full menu for the week. I then went through the menu, and switched out whatever meals I did not want (mostly egg-based breakfast items). I clicked on the menu items for recipes and the shopping list basically wrote itself.
Cooking for the fam was easy. For breakfast, they scrambled to finish off the Cinnamon Life Cereal, possibly the greatest temptation living in my house today. For lunch, the kids had grilled cheese sandwiches, grapes, and chips with Daddy. Daddy cooked. For dinner, everyone ate what Mommy ate. Neither kids ate the steamed green beans; Grace ate the "mashed potatoes," David did not. Matt said, "Are these potatoes?" I asked him what he thought they were. "Potatoes." I told him it was mashed cauliflower. His response? "Wow. I'd take this over mashed potatoes any day." Hmmm... I don't know that I'd go that far, but they were pretty good.
You may be wondering why I am putting myself through this humiliation, admitting my weight and Spanx size on a world wide mass communication format. By creating for myself an assignment, I have created a source of accountability. I had a dream last night that I woke up and had five followers to this feed, just overnight. I remember thinking in my dream, Wow. Now I really have to stick to this. Look at these people that really want to know if this works or not. Cheesy, I know. But I can't control the cheese in my dreams. It just flows.
When I woke this morning, I had no new followers. (My husband scoped it out last night, if that counts for anything.) I don't know if anyone will ever read this, but the accountability worked today. Because if I am going to slip up and dig my hand in the Cinnamon Life box, I may not be the only one who will know. As a girl who hates to lie, I'd feel guilty about pretending I had a perfect day when I didn't. And I'd have to sign on to my blogspot and write about how I didn't even have the willpower to last the day. And since the good opinion of those around me means that much to me, peer pressure will win out and I will persevere through this diet.
Day one: complete.
Day two: I'm staring you down, and I will be the victor.
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