41 Point Freak Out

Many of you know that I have embraced the Weight Watchers program.  I chose to count my food as  points as I am still unsure that I know what it means to be full. The Simply Filling program scares me so I knew I needed to count everything.  Because of my height and weight and gender I get a lot of points.  I started with 56 and am now down to 48.  I can barely eat that many a day if I stay within healthy eating.  I average about 22-25 points for dinner.  I usually have a 4 point breakfast and an 8 point lunch. This seems to work for me.  I feel comfortable in those zones.  I am comfortable there and I have been losing weight so why muck with it.

Last night I had a minor freak-out about dinner.  My fiancé cooks almost all our meals.  He hates doing the dishes so when he moved in we decided that he would cook and I would clean.  Last night he told me that dinner would be a whopping 41 points.  I freaked a little.  I bad a little bit of a panic attack over it.  41 points!  I barely hit that in a day.  It bothered me so much that I barely enjoyed the chili he made.  And then like everything else in the journey, I started to think about why it affected me so much.

Before I started this journey I used food as a comfort for both the good times and the bad.  Especially the bad.  After my mother died in 2002 I started eating Nestle cookie and ice cream sandwiches every night.  Sometimes two a night.  I put on weight of course but they were so creamy and sweet.  I loved them and they loved me back until I felt bad about eating them.  I broke up with a boyfriend and moved to an apartment complex that had a convenience store a building over from me.  Every Sunday night I would go there and get 4 or 5 ice cream bars, Arizona Ice Teas and chips.  That would be my dinner sometimes as I spent many Sundays by myself.  In good times I would eat too.  It did not matter what the occasion was, I would eat.  And I would obsess about the food I would get to eat.  At parties I would get mad inside my own head about people eating the food.  Like the food was just for me and how dare they it or get the last of it.  I ate to kill the little girl inside who still wanted her mother to be alive, who wanted her father to stay, who wanted her mean grandmother just to tell her she was pretty instead of the ugly names she called her.  I covered that little girl up in layers and layers of fat.  Damaged does not begin to cover the definition of who I was as I stuffed my face and overate almost all of my adult life.  And now I am worried I am obsessing in the other way. 

What I mean by this is I am worried that I am so anxious about staying within my points.  I am creating anxiety around being right on target and not going over that any dip in to the bonus points (49 a week) is a moment of anxiety that I will immediately put on the 52 pounds that I just lost.  I don’t like weeks that I maintain or gain.  They make me mad and frustrated.  I am trying not to beat myself up over minor setbacks.  I know intellectually that I will get through it and that I will lose weight but that little girl inside me wants to be better and prettier then she was told she was.

I have to remember that in addition to losing the weight, I am also fixing the pain and the reasons why I eat.  I will have moments that are anxiety ridden and I have to find ways to make sure that I don’t turn the anxiety in a direction that makes losing the weight as stressful as it was putting it on. Because until last night I have had minimal stress about what is happening.  In fact it has been the opposite.  I have loved the changes.  I love the smaller clothes.  I love how my face looks and how I feel.  Time to let it go and relax.  Take each moment at a time.  And love the changes happening to me.

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me I Looked Like This?!

The picture on the left was taken in March, the photo on the right was taken this morning.  I cannot believe how big my face was at 367 pounds and how much thinner I look at 315.  

I totally believe that my friends never said a word to me. We don't normally tell our loved ones they are fat or dangerously fat.  I was dangerously fat and I knew it but I was living in my fantasy world that everything would be ok and that I looked good.  I seriously thought that I looked good.  But it was a lie.  I was in pain. My knees hurt, I sleep with a CPAP machine, and I was not enjoying the really great things in life.  One of the most telling events was a trip to the theater to see Les Miserables.  I love that musical.  Seen it a dozen times.  The theater seats were so small for me that I was in physical pain from being crammed in to the seeat.  On the way home I thought I would not be able to do that again.  I realized that the seats did not need to change, the size of my ass needed to change.  And so I am.

One of the things that we are taught as children, especially those of us who grew up in the self esteem movement, is that we need to love ourselves and accept people as they are.  I have tried to live that mantra my whole like.  Who am I to judge who you love, how you dress, what color your hair is, and to do the same for myself.  I am wondering as I look at the photo on the left, is that the best approach?  Should we not, as loved ones of someone, say something?  Should we continue to tell people that are clearly obese, like I am, that they look great and they are beautiful.  I have talked about this before but clearly it is sticking with me.

I recently saw a statement that said "Real women have curves."  I understand the intent.  It is let all of us that are not what I will call the professional model standard that we are just as beautiful.  And we are but are we healthy and well?  Are we doing a disservice to keep telling those of us that are morbidly obese that we look fabulous when the truth is we are slowing killing ourselves?

I want my message to be one of wellness.  Whatever that means to you.  But I don't know if I can keep up the facade of everything being ok. I wonder if I have to the guts to tell someone I love that I am worried about them and their health.  I KNOW how hard this is.  There are so many unknowns.  We would rather be in the pain we know then to think about a pain we don't know.  It is why we stay fat, stay in jobs we hate, stay in relationships with people we don't love anymore.  The fear of the unknown is frightening.  I get it.  I worry about what my body will look like, how people will treat me, how I will be in the world but I can't take the way I felt in June. 

I don't know if I would have heard the person telling me they were worried about me.  But I want to be brave enough to tell someone I love them first and tell them second I am worried about them.  And that they can change their lives.  And then let it go.

I TOOK OFF MY BRA TO MAKE IT

I stood on the scale.  It has never been one of those things that I look forward to before June 1, 2014.  In fact I would have rather stuck a hot poker in my eye then step on a scale.  It really was torture for me.  I have lost weight before but I have never made the commitment to weigh in every week.  Just was not going to happen.

But things have changed.  Despite some ups and downs (literally) I look forward to going to my Weight Watchers meetings on Saturday morning.  Truthfully I like the people there.  They inspire me and they keep me honest with myself.  There is no faking it there.  It is all real.  And this past Saturday was real.

I was within 5.4 pounds of losing 50 pounds.  The three weeks before I had a 2.8 gain, a 1.4 loss, and then a 1 pound gain.  I was ticked off.  I was angry, frustrated, and fed up.  I wasn’t going to stop but I was a pissed off fat chick for sure.  I had started going to the gym and working out.  I thought that would get me going and that the weight would just start to melt off.  Then I was reminded that going to the gym gives you better cardio health and not necessarily weight loss.  It really is about the food which is 80% of the battle.  We had been going out to eat on Fridays a lot in the last 3 weeks and now I know that eating big on Friday can really screw me up.  So no more indulging on Friday.  Saturday is still on program but we may get frozen yogurt on that night as a treat and then spend the rest of the week keeping to program.

So when stepped on the scale I was fully prepared for a gain or maintenance if I was lucky.  Instead the scale said 318.  I needed to be at 317.6.  I got off, took my bra off and got back on the scale.  317.6!  I had made the goal.  I was so excited.  If I could weigh in naked I would and it would probably have been less.  Naked is frowned upon at the meetings though.  Darn it!

I cannot believe that I made that goal in 20 weeks.  It feels great.  My goal was to lose 80 pounds by the time I took my wedding dress to the seamstress for alterations.  That will be April 4, 2015. I really want that number to be 100. I think I can do it.  It will be 2 pounds a week for the next 25 weeks.  Totally within my realm of control.  I will hit the gym a couple times this week and just be super diligent about food.  Although there are points to use, I don’t want to use them on bread or potatoes anymore.  I need to be mindful of my fruit and make sure that I am not loading up on sugar.

More milestones will follow. For now I am going to enjoy this one.  I HAVE LOST 50 POUNDS!

The Five Day Challenge

Exercise is the hardest for me.  I really feel like I have got the food thing down. I am counting my points, eating healthier, and making sure that I stay away from the trigger foods.  I am really doing great and feel positive about the way things are going. What I struggle with a lot is getting the gym.  I really don't like it but I know that while the pool is closed until next May I need to find a way to exercise.  And the gym is it.

I have challenged myself to get to the gym 5 times every week.  I am going to count those times every week here on my blog and on my Facebook page The Shrinking Rose. It is probably the only way that I am going to get my butt to the gym. I have to find some motivation to get there and being accountable.  I think that I don't like it because I spend a lot of time in the gym in high school.  I was a competitive shot

putter so I was in the gym most days in the gym lifting weights.  It got old and I have not been able to find the spot in brain that makes it enjoyable.  I know my fiance is doing better at this then I am.  So I made it impossible for me not to do it.  I have to get there.  If I want to reach my goal, I have to find that sweet spot.

Day one and two are down.  I will be going to the gym early today since I get to work at home today. Tomorrow my gym bag will be packed and put in the trunk and off to the gym I will go when work is done.  Thursday means a deviation as I am going to dinner with family but I will get there on Friday with Tim.  It will be great to go there with him.

For me 5 days is no longer a nice to have but now a need to have. Changing my life one pound at a time.

Saving Rosie

Food.  We cannot live without it.  It is the fuel that makes our bodies move, our brains think, and our organs work.  But for some, including me, food is an addiction.  One that I am trying to recover from. My program is about staying within a prescribed number of points through Weight Watchers.  It is working for me as I am losing weight but more importantly I am eating better and healthier.  I have added in lean meats, fruits, veggies, and whole grains.  I still have some food that was in the past hard for me to control but I have a set limit of what I can consume.  It keeps me on track.

Healing myself is an important part of this journey.  I realized today that I am really working on healing the little girl still living inside me.  It has been more mental at times than physical.  I am doing great with the food, I am still working on the emotions.

When I was 4 I had my tonsils out.  Until then I was a slim little girl.  Then for some reason I began to eat.  A lot.  I remember the day I binged for the first time.  My father's mother lived with us.  She was not a nice person.  She was by no means a warm and fuzzy grandmother.  Her name was Bea.  We called her Gramma Bea.  She loved me in some way but I also annoyed her and she really did not like me.  She was home all day so she would bake 100's of cookies.  I mean 100's and then she would hide them.  I would walk in to the house after school, smell the cookies, ask for one, and be told I was too fat to have one.  Nice one Bea.  She hid them in her room in the biggest Tupperware bowl on the planet.  One day, when my parents were out with Bea, my brother and I found the bowl.  We ate cookies for hours.  We binged on them. There was no purging but I binged on those cookies.  I could not wait to do it again.  I would show her.  The binging would happen many times over the years.

One of the biggest reasons I ate was because I was lonely.  I had friends but I have always felt as if I had to be the one to call or make plans.  I once waited for one of my many friends to call me, it took two weeks before someone called.  I was popular but I was lonely.  My mother worked 3 jobs so she wasn't home, the only thing to do was to eat and watch TV.  I was sad a lot.  I also missed my father.  We lived on opposite sides of the country and felt abandoned by him even before the divorce.  We have repaired our relationship but it was hard not having him around.

I got married, got sick, got fatter and pretty much stayed within the same 50-60 pounds the rest of my life until now.  I must have realized that this was no way to live anymore.  I have had moments in the last 4 months where I really wanted to eat a pint of ice cream, or an entire container of french onion dip and a bag of chips.  But I haven't.  I lost my job and I did not eat over it.  I had a car accident and I did not eat over it.  I know what all that tastes like, I don't know what my goal weight feels like.  

The best part is Rosie, is no longer alone.  Friends call me all the time.  I have an amazing partner in this and in life.  The little girl sticks her head around the corner now and then.  I greet her.  I tell her I love her.  I hold her close to me and I heal the pain and take away the need.  It really is about healing Rosie.  And making Rose a whole lot better.

Getting on the Bike/Elliptical Again

I have not stepped in to a gym in a very long time.  It has been over a year since I walked in to a gym. I tried to get on the wellness bandwagon a year ago after learning that I needed a CPAP machine to sleep at night.  I lasted about 4 weeks.  I hurt my knee and then my orthopedic doctor told me not to workout on machines until I lost 50 pounds.  I never lost the 50 pounds.  So no working out.

This time around I started with weight loss.  Since I am down almost 50 pounds I got the go ahead to use fitness machines.  Last week we joined the gym near our house.  We started on the stationary bike and then moved to a 3o minute circuit training.  Probably should not have been so gung ho.  I was sore and my muscles did not like me.  It felt great but I realized I needed to pace myself more.  This is not a race.  It is a journey.  I will be losing this weight and laying the foundation for this life change for the next 2 years.  No need to rush.

Yesterday we went back to the gym. This time I did 20 minutes on a stationary bike, 15 minutes on the elliptical machines and another 15 minutes on a different stationary bike.  Today I feel awesome.  It was hard to do the elliptical and it seriously kicked my butt (which is the point).  My knees don't hurt.  I am not sure.  This is great.

I am so happy I got back on the bike.  It is going to change so much for me.  I cannot wait to look back and think about how far I have come.

What is Weight Loss Really About?

I was at my Weight Watchers meeting on Saturday.  It was a good day.  I had lost 2.8 pounds which brought my total loss to 47.8 pounds.  I was feeling good about being so close to 50 pounds lost.  I also got my 15 week charm.  And to top it all off my finace' reached his 10% loss goal.  Then I started to cry.

I had not planned on crying. There really wasn't anything to cry about really.  The leader was talking about a woman on the WW website who was 44 and started losing weight after discovering that her father died about the same age from the same heart condition that she had.  I thought - "I am 44.  And I decided to lose weight after it struck me that my mother was 56 when she died and that only 10 years with Tim was not going to be enough."  I started to tear up.  Not just moist eyes but real tears.

When you lose weight you are not just shedding weight you are shedding all the pain that made you put those doughnuts in your face.  I have been emotional eating all my life.  There is nothing pretty about it.  I hope to discover more about this.  What other emotions are going to come up?  Whatever they may be I am going to embrace them.  And certainly not eat about them.  My life has changed so I can have a long life.  I cry for my mom and I cry for me.  We both needed to love ourselves a lot more.