#Like first of all ok it weighs OVER 10lbs so if you drop it on your foot or something with thin shoes on it's gonna HURT

[solradguy]

The bond that forms between a man and his 6+ month long very expensive technological nightmare of a project is stronger than high carbon steel

[sugarfreeplz]

Epic Progress Update

Hi, blog thing, it’s been a minute.

I don’t feel bad for my (uh, has it been a year already?) inconsistent posting, I’m pretty sure I write this blog just for me, but I want to start using it in a slightly different way so it’s imperative that I create a new baseline post.

Since the last few posts, I’ve made some massive progress resulting from massive shifts in my life. I’m 135.6lbs (which kind of blows my mind just writing that), I’ve lost 32.4lbs since i started this journey in August 2015.  Despite the immensely slow progress, I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to see what I look like in another 10lbs... which may not be something I get to see until November, at this rate, but whatever. ;)

I want to start posting my recipes and ideas and stuff that I’ve been doing so that I don’t forget how much work it took to get here... so I never let myself lose control again. After the jump is a summary of my journey over the last year. tldr: I full on embraced keto (seems inevitable when I think on it, considering the title of this blog) and I’m doing Olympic weight lifting 3-4x weekly plus 30 min cardio every morning. I’m not a morning person but now I’m in love with morning workouts. Seriously, I don’t think I could have predicted this. WTF, fam. 

Weight chart, July to December 2016 - feat. slowest moving weight-loss on planet earth

July 2016: Went to Paris for 10 days, ate whatever I wanted and walked everywhere. Felt no guilt around food, didn’t binge eat, just paid attention to my body and got tons of exercise. All the chocolate croissants were mine and I loved every second. Weight at end of July: 153.4lbs / 69.6kg

August 2016: Went home to Utah for two weeks, chaotic road trip and visiting of family. Drove back to LA and my grandmother died the same week. Flew back to Utah. Grief eating, that’s a thing. Kept it in check and resolved I was going to take care of myself so that complications from back surgery never had to be something I’d worry about dying from. Motivation that had been slacking for a few months got restored. Weight at end of August: 151.4lbs / 68.7kg

September 2016: Things were OK, weight loss was still in this slow downward trend. Desperate to mix it up, I start researching different ways of eating. Two-thirds of the way through the month I decided to try keto. (Check out r/keto if you want more info.) Easing into it was a good idea, starting with Low Carb High Fat and then slowly radically changing my eating. I loved keto because I was already about the sugar-free life, but I had some habits and food I had trouble transitioning away from. I probably could have lost weight faster initially had I fully embraced keto but I am just too stubborn. I started tracking on these spreadsheets: TDEE Calculator (found on Reddit), Weight Loss Tracker (made this one myself). Weight at end of September: 150lbs / 68kg

October 2016: Started going harder towards a lower-carb lifestyle. Weight loss stalled out again. Frustration, despite having broken into the upper 140s for the first time in 3 years. At this point I had pretty much stopped lifting 3x weekly. I just went to the gym for cardio and an occasional dumbbell workout. This is probably what contributed to the plateau. Weight at end of October: 149.4 lbs / 67.8kg

November 2016: Went to Utah again. Broke through another plateau to a new low weight of 148lbs, tried Crossfit mostly for Olympic lifts and got addicted. Found the top box in Los Angeles and joined after I returned to LA / after an epic Thanksgiving where I baked the most delicious keto-ish cheesecake on earth. The scale still wasn’t moving like I wanted it to... I’d say a rate of the slowest molasses in the universe. Got another dexascan: 34% Bodyfat is a win, but lost bone density. Resolved to lift more. Weight at end of November: 148lbs / 67.1kg

December 2016: Decided Crossfit is second fiddle to weightlifting. Resigned myself to the fact that I really should only expect to lose 1-1.5lb per month according to the scale. At this point I was starting to believe that I was some freak of nature who can’t abide by the laws of thermodynamics. Maybe I was really probably just holding onto a lot of water weight, but I still kind of think I might be a freak. I was weighing and tracking all my food obsessively. I was back in the gym 3-4x week. Scale still in the parallel molasses universe. Just can’t win with it.

Then the holidays happened, I traveled to Utah again, and I just kind of let myself live. I stayed pretty keto, all things considered. I know that if I am overly restrictive when it looks like other people are enjoying themselves I will only fail in the long run, so I went over my calories, drank the champagne, and didn’t feel bad at all. Despite the dgaf attitude in the last two weeks of the month, I saw the same amount of loss relative to other months and still hitting new lows (in the middle of many fluctuations). Weight at end of December: 146.2lbs / 66.3kg

End of 2016 Progress: 21.8lbs lost since August 2015

Weight chart, January to Present 2017 - finally picking up speed

January 2017: I started the year with a new, clear goal in mind: workout 5x week, no matter what. This was an awesome way to start the year after returning to LA and has really set me up for the success I’m seeing now. It was nice to have a goal not centered around weightloss. I wanted to hit 145lbs by my birthday but it just didn’t happen. I got really close, though. I also decided to move away from the beach and into a more positive environment. Did a lot of skiing, visited Mammoth, almost met Alfie Allen (Theon Greyjoy), got snowed in. Weight at end of January: 145.6lbs / 66kg

February 2017: Month of moving and shaking and shifting of things. More skiing. Fell off the workout bandwagon because of all the moving; pretty sure I only averaged 4 workouts per week, but was moving my body a lot almost every day. Went to a black tie industry awards for World of Dance. Felt super gorgeous and sexy. Indulged mindfully and dropped 2lbs, biggest amount lost in one month since May 2016. Weight at end of February: 143.6lbs / 65.1kg

March 2017: Fully moved into my new place and really happy about it. Dexascan is showing progress at 32% Bodyfat and improved bone density. Boyfriend’s cat died, which was incredibly sad. Some grief eating, but under control. Two ski trips: one to Utah, another to Mammoth. Definitely starting to look different and clothes aren’t fitting the same anymore, Boyfriend is even noticing (and enjoying ;) ) the changes. End of March I decide to go for broke and start doing Cardio in the mornings (every day, no excuses) and Weightlifting at night (min 3-4x weekly), to be carried into April. Weight at end of March: 142lbs / 64.2kg

April 2017: I order new clothes to the tune of low low prices from my best friend, Amazon. These are huge hit with the boyfriend. It’s a rush. I’m feeling more comfortable in my skin for the first time in 10 years. I ate at maintenance for the whole month because I was mentally exhausted caring about staying around 1200-1300 calories. Despite knowing I was eating maintenance, I was still frustrated with the slow weightloss. Roommate declares I’ve lost “like 20lbs” since I moved in whenever I complain about the weight coming off slowly.  Before the end of the month, I begin taking on intermittent fasting. I can’t make it through a month without traveling so, Boyfriend and I go north to his family’s hometown for Easter. I work out every single day in April (morning cardio, at least) and then drive to Utah (again) at the end of the month.  Weight at end of April: 141.2lbs / 64kg

May 2017: The month starts me off with a really wonderful surprise whoosh down to my new low, 137lbs. I haven’t broke through the 130s since high school (10 years ago). Such a rush and I literally feel on top of the world, even though it’s really just weightloss and I should calm the fuck down, I feel like I’m finally conquering my demons of binge eating by embracing intermittent fasting and paying closer attention to self-care on a daily basis. I’m getting noticed, flirted with, and complimented on the street. I love (but also don’t know what to do with) the attention. I get some inappropriate attention, too, which definitely boggles my mind. Boyfriend and I drive back to LA after the first week of May. I broke my workout streak of 49 days when my best friend came into town the next week and was kind of OK about it. Back on track by the end of the month but no more lovely whoosh... more riding the frustration train to weight fluctuation land. At least I look pretty good. Weight at end of May: 137lbs / 62.1kg

June 2017 (so far): I decided to take weightlifting to the next level and get into the gym 4x week minimum alongside cardio 5-7x week. Time to add some weight to the key weightlifting movements and stop relying on Squats and Deadlifts to get me heavy PRs. I’m still perfecting technique because my upper body is atrociously inferior in strength to my lower body, but there’s slow (as usual) progress. I tried the egg fast plateau killer last week and it did break through my plateau to a new low of 135.6 (!!!). Huge win for me. I haven’t weighed this since I was 17. Going to do a 3 day egg fast at least 2x monthly to keep the water weight down, since that seems to be the evil behind all the weight-fluctuation. Starting second round tomorrow and have another Dexascan on Wednesday. Excited to see the results!

2017 Progress: 32.4 lbs since August 2015

The next post I want to make is going to be about what the round trip journey back to feeling like myself has been about, why it happened, and what I might have done differently (thought the journey I took was perfect for me, there’s always ways to improve). I’m going to post some recipes and pictures and bullshit like that in the mean time, but might as well put all this stuff banging around in my head somewhere.

[suezycreamcheese]

The world just got a little luckier, today; a little brighter. My oldest daughter, Emily, graduated from Mount Royal University this morning; her beautiful face beaming with joy. With this degree, she adds one more First to her list; one of many. She was the First person in my life that I ever worried about. I was told she had Intrauterine Growth Retardation when I was just 16 weeks along in my pregnancy; she just stopped growing. My OB/GYN told me there were only 2 possible outcomes: she would survive and be a midget (no joke), or she would not survive; my placenta was only working at 50% capacity and she wasn’t getting the nutrients she needed. He told me that we could induce labor when I had reached my 23rd week, and hope to give her the care she needed to thrive; but I had to at least get my pregnancy past 23 weeks because the state of Texas would not allow medical intervention for preemies born before that mark. With that goal in mind, I was put on total bedrest so she could have the full attention of my body and all the oxygen and nutrients that I otherwise would have used if I were up and running around. We played music on my tummy, I wrote and painted in my journal while talking to her, we read her poems, and I read books to her that I checked out of the library by the shelfful; all murder mysteries (now thankful they had no effect on her). We watched every episode of Murder She Wrote and The Scarecrow and Mrs. King, from beginning to end. And I ate cheese; so much cheese. We can thank the Women, Infants, Children program (WIC) for all the blessed cheese, milk, and Life Cereal I could possibly eat. It worked. Every week, I had an ultrasound to check on her, and they gave me a sugary drink to get her to kick. I was told, if I could count 10 kicks in the span of one hour every day, she was doing ok. We had a C-section scheduled for the end of my 36th week, but days before the scheduled time, Emmy decided to jump out on her own; she was my First big surprise; she was my First child. When I looked into her eyes I realized that she was my First love as well. My doctor laughed when he reported her weighing in at 6lbs 14oz; he said it was good she was a preemie, because if she had gone full term, she would have been a 10lb baby…all that cheese! It turned out that Emily was his First baby patient to bounce back so perfectly from IUGR; one more for her brand new list of Firsts.

As Emmy grew, I followed the advice in all my baby books, preparing for every step. Well. Most babies start babbling “mama/dada” by 6 months and 2-3 word sentences between 18months and 2 years. They also typically begin walking around 9months. My baby? She started with the “mama/dada” and moved straight into full sentences. By her yearly exam, she hadn’t begun to walk, however, and I worried. The doctor looked me in the eye and reminded me, “Emily asks for anything she wants – she can clearly communicate to you…what motivation does she have to actually get up and walk to something she would like? She asks politely for the toy from her bedroom, and you run off to bring it to her. Stop. She won’t like it, but she will eventually learn that she needs to get what she wants by walking to what she wants. All will be well.”

She learned her First little lesson in life; sometimes you have to get what you want by rising to your feet and pursuing it on your own.

Then we moved to California and I needed to work, so poor Emily had to go to Daycare for the First time, crying all the way; crying every morning. We eventually fell into a routine and a morning ritual that would calm her down by the time we arrived at the Daycare Center. Every day we would drive from our tiny apartment in Seaside, to the Daycare Center at the Defense Language Institute. Along the way, to distract her from her sadness, we would say, “Look, Emmy! There is the big tree! And as we passed it, we said, “Hi tree! Bye-bye tree!” “Look Emily, there’s the ocean! Hi Ocean! Bye-bye Ocean!” And our favorite was, “LOOK! The Car Tunnel!” As we drove through it (the last thing before entering DLI), “Hi Tunnel! Bye-bye Tunnel!” She learned that those things would remain there while she was in Daycare, and we could do the reverse routine on our way home. To this day, I’m not sure whether Emily does this or not, but I still whisper under my breath when driving through any tunnel, “Hi Tunnel, Bye Tunnel.” Unfortunately, one of the worst Firsts she had to put on her list was that we worked such horrible hours in the hotel industry, and she was always the First to be dropped off at Daycare, and last to be picked up. Through it all, though, she managed to keep her sunny smile and we enjoyed our days off together.

I was a bit overprotective of Emily; I remember when we met my husband, Markus, for the First time; he was shocked that I wouldn’t even let her climb the slides at the park. He proceeded, over the years, to teach her how to climb trees, and how to ride a bicycle; she had her First adventures because he entered our lives. My girlie girl in the ruffled dresses suddenly became rough and tumble and trailed after him like a puppy. He became her First idol.

Eventually, after dating for a year, we flew to Markus’ hometown in Bavaria to meet his family. We were so nervous; the only advice he was given before going to America was, “Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with an American Woman!” They’d had bad impressions from another American Woman through a different member of their family, and wanted to make sure Markus didn’t make a similar mistake. Well whaddayaknow, not only did he fall in love with an American Woman, but she was a Divorced American Woman…with a Child from her Previous Marriage. Oh the scandal! Needless to say, I was incredibly stressed, ready to jump down anyone’s throat who dared to say anything unkind to my baby. I shouldn’t have worried so. Emily worked her First magic spell that day at the Munich airport. One look at her, and Markus’ mother fell to her knees and exclaimed, “Call me Oma!” Emmy celebrated her 3rd birthday during that enchanting visit, returning home having wrapped each family member around her little fingers.

Emily’s First time at a wedding was when we all got married. I say “we” to include her, because we recited our wedding vows to her, promising to love her and be a family together. I don’t know if she fully understood the solemnity of our promises; she spent most of the time swinging from our joined hands; about all that can be expected from a 3yr old. Oh, let me not forget to mention another first…On the morning of our wedding, I went to get my hair done and on the way home suddenly fell ill. I may or may not have pulled over into the parking lot of a 7Eleven and, being too embarrassed to get sick in a parking lot, barfed all over the inside of my car. I made it home, a smelly mess, shaky and feverish; Markus cleaned up the car, cleaned up his bride-to-be, and whisked us away to Monastery Beach, in Carmel, to be married by our good friend Colette. At the wedding dinner at Il Fornio (fancy for us), I sat, white as a sheet, while Emily and Markus tucked in and devoured their meals. All of a sudden, Emily sat up and picked up the barf baton; and she ran with it. Markus made it almost to bed time before he succumbed. I think we had only one day off before returning to work, and we spent it taking care of each other. I could say it was Emmy’s First family drama, but I passed it over for First Time Learning What Not to Say. That weekend, I brought my car to the car wash and asked them to detail it. I was in the middle of pointing out the gunk in the gaps between the gear shift and the seats, and little Emily pops her head in the door and squeals, “YAH! We gotta clean that UP! Mama barfed ALL over the place – it was SO GROSS!” I wish I could say that was the First and last time Emily has made me want to laugh (or cry!) and pretend she was someone else’s child because of “oversharing.” We’ll not reminisce about the “Painkiller” pitchers of potion we imbibed in the Caribbean, after snorkeling, and the cute young man that enchanted her…and how she thought she was whispering her admiration of him to us as we trailed behind him back to the ship, but she forgot to turn down the volume…ahhh, good times.

More relevantly, Emily’s First day of school was epic. Markus and she walked to the elementary school just a couple of blocks from our house, a few days before school started, just to get the lay of the land. She was hopping up and down from excitement. One of the classroom doors was open, with a teacher working inside, and Markus told Em, “This is a kindergarten classroom – this might even be YOUR classroom! Doesn’t it look fun?” Emily, jumping up and down, “oh yes! OH YES!” The teacher came to the door, smiled at Emily, and asked her, “What is your name?” And Emily, in classic Sound of Music style, marched one step forward, said, “Emily!” and marched one step back, grinning her front-teeth-missing goofy grin. The teacher, Ms. Wendy Tuffli, fell in love with our silly girl, and after they went home, she did her own marching into the school office and told them, “That girl? Emily something? I want her.” And she became Emily’s First teacher; you should have seen the glorious look on Emmy’s face on the first day of school, when she found out who her teacher was. Ms. Tuffli was Emily’s First inspiration; someone that Emily grew up wanting to be, and is now going to learn how to be.

Emily’s First time becoming a big sister happened while she was in kindergarten. She adored her baby sister, Hanna. Again, another unfortunate First came along. Emily caught the chicken pox and passed it on to 2 week old Hanna. Hanna only got one giant pox on her forehead; it made us giggle to see them together.

Emily met her First lifelong friend, Natalie, while we lived in California. They met at the swimming pool and it was friendship at First sight. We actually moved to Pacific Grove because of that little lady; they both went to Forest Grove Elementary School together. They also celebrated their First Communion together. Last year Emily flew out to Arizona to cheer her on as Natalie graduated from her university.

Before we moved to Pacific Grove, we also have to note that Emily had her First and only Around the Corner Friend. My friend, JJ, lived around the corner from our house, and her daughter Emma, and Emily played together. We called them Em&Em. They shared their First friendship sandwich together; a very cool thing. You take a giant loaf of French bread, like a baguette, cut it open and load on everything you could ever dream of in a sandwich. Then, the 2 friends chow down on their respective ends of the sandwich until they meet in the middle. It was a big hit in our house.

This might be the best First of all. From the time we married and I changed my name, Emily was the only one left in the house with the surname Pierce. For a time, her birth father permitted us to hyphenate her last name, when she became aware of things in Kindergarten. But things became harder for her. Hanna was born…Johanna Treppenhauer. Then Simon was born…Simon Treppenhauer. She grew sadder and sadder. Back in preschool, one of the teachers insisted that Emily refer to Markus as her “Stepdad” instead of Papa Markus. Emily argued; she said that she had 2 Papas: Papa Scott and Papa Markus, and what was a Stepdad anyway? After the complicated list of proper labels for families of divorce was explained to her, and being told that, according to her stupid stupid stupid preschool teacher, Papa Markus was not actually blood-related to her, she came home a sobbing mess. Why wasn’t she blood related to Papa? What WAS blood related, anyway?! Was Papa not her Papa because he was a Stepdad instead? That was her First heartbreak. I can’t say I reacted well. Much inner-cursing of the preschool teacher, much outer crying for the loss of happy innocence. We tried to tell her that labels were not needed in our family and Papa was Papa because of the love in our hearts; but she could not be consoled. Sudden I remembered my father, when I was little, swearing himself as Blood Brother with a close friend, and the ceremony involved, I jumped to my feet and cried, “QUICK! Peel your knee scab! Markus, peel that scab on your arm!” And I grabbed their limbs and squished them together, scab to scab. Gross, but effective. I now pronounce you Blood Related. And that alone could have been the best of all. But there is more. When Emmy was in kindergarten, things became very difficult and messy with her birth father. She began to have nightmares. We took legal action to protect her. In the end, her birth father gave us permission for Markus to adopt her. She was turning 10 at that time. She spoke to her birth father and thanked him for giving her the greatest birthday gift she could ever have asked for; to be able to share the same last name as her brother and sister, and to finally feel 100% part of the family. Her First day as a Treppenhauer was a great day.

Years passed, our family grew, and we moved to Hawaii. The Big Island was the First place we ever lived where Emily blended in – she had a wonderful 5 years there, living like an island girl, making friends and loving the sun. I think she may have left her heart back there. When she was halfway through 10th grade, we moved to Banff. Her First time in a foreign country; her First time learning the importance of being diplomatic (“Whaddaya mean I can’t loudly argue with my social studies class about America? We’re GREAT!”). And another not so great First. For the First time, Emily struggled with school. She struggled so hard that she started to hate it. It took just one teacher and the damage was so bad we worried she wouldn’t make it to university. Not surprisingly, Emily decided to take a gap year before going on to college. She felt so bad about school, though, and in hindsight, it was good for her to take that break. She worked in town and tried to save for college. Then, Markus was transferred to Jasper. All of a sudden, Emmy would have to live on her own for the First time. Broken-hearted, we urged her to stay where she was and see it as practice for living at university in the Fall. She was brave. She was braver than I have ever known her to be.

And she did it! All of a sudden, it was Fall and her First day of school all over again. I drove down from Jasper to help her move into her dorm. Car packed to the ceiling, we made that journey together. I thought I couldn’t be prouder.

I’ve never been more wrong. Today, I look back at her life and think, “she’s already accomplished so much! How can she top this?” But she already has. Through her shining example of perseverance in the pursuit of a higher education, I have been taking my prerequisite classes to attend nursing school. Markus is going to enroll in school to work towards his MBA. Hanna is finishing up her first year at the University of Washington. There is going to be a day or two over the next two years when all of our lives will align and every member of this family will be enrolled in a university at the same time. She is my First inspiration. I know this seems like a lot just to say, “Happy Graduation,” but there is so much more I didn’t even have time to include. One day, I want the opportunity and time to sit down and write out all the bright details of her wonderful life. From her giant gap toothed smile on the first day of kindergarten, to this, her beautiful, serene smile on her last day of school; what a transformation. Whenever that time comes, I just know there will be a mountain of new adventures to share with the world. Emily will be off to her Master’s program at the University of Calgary in the Fall. Another First day of school. Please join me in my cheering; BRAVO EMILY!!!

First to Fly The world just got a little luckier, today; a little brighter. My oldest daughter, Emily, graduated from Mount Royal University this morning; her beautiful face beaming with joy.

[kummerspeck-griefbacon]

2017

Weeeeeeeelllllpppp! It’s a New Year, and I’m ready to start working on this blog again. I really couldn’t have procrastinated more if I tried, but whatever, I’m here now, it’s only January 2nd, so I’m not that far out of the game. I’ve been re-reading Jory Ames “Weight Loss Journey: Changing My Life One Story and One Pound at a Time”, and it has really inspired me to start up the blog again, I feel it is key to my weight loss journey to share my frustrations as well as my successes as Ms. Ames has done. She was the first woman to write the book that I wanted to write, and it def helped that she is an older woman (she’s 54- I’m 47), she is the same height as me (5′4″) and she is/was in the same weight category (she starts the book at 210, and resolves to lose 10 lbs per month for 6 months to get to 150). I would LOVE to lose 10 lbs per month but I don’t know if that’s possible for ME, she definitely proves that it IS possible (I think from reading it the first time that she doesn’t make it all the way in 6 months, but she does come pretty close.

Let me update you since I wrote last, well over a year ago- nothing has changed, weight-wise. I’m probably right around where I was. Actually, I’m sure I weigh more, because I quit smoking around the last entry and as of today, I am still quit. That is something I am very proud of- something I really never thought I could or would do. I was one of those smokers that really enjoyed smoking 90% of the time. I quit on 9/30/15, so I’ve stopped for over 15 months. I feel secure in quitting after I hit the year mark, but I know people go back at the drop of a hat, so I try not to get too cocky, especially since my entire family smokes. My husband quit a few months after I did and he has stayed quit, so that is fantastic. I feel like nothing would cause me to go back to smoking except a horrible tragedy, so I leave it at that. But quitting has taught me one thing- if I could do that, I can do anything. It wasn’t even as hard as I expected. Don’t you hate when people say shit like that? But it wasn’t- I used the patch, which I had never tried before, the one with the steps. So I guess that gave me enough nicotine in my system to keep me from punching people in the throat, and then I bought cartridges for my e-cigarette that had 0% nicotine, so I could still have the feel of a cigarette and the inhaling and the “smoke”. The e-cig helped for a very short while- it really can’t compare to a real cig, and it seemed to give me a weird cough, so I just kept it around and didn’t use it much, but I knew it was there if I needed it. So with those tools, it was much easier than I expected (BITCH- I know!), but the main thing was I knew I was ready to give them up forever, and the other times I had tried to quit (not many, because I did like to smoke), I couldn’t get on board with the quit forever thing, so I always wound up telling myself I could have just one, and just one always leads to another.

But anyway, back to the WEIGHT, after I gained about 15-20lbs from quitting smoking (and it happened QUICKLY- within 3 months), I found myself at the beginning of 2016 hating myself, and more determined than ever to lose the weight. I was very depressed about the weight- I was heavier than I had ever been, I think at one point I reached 221. And if the gain wasn’t bad enough, I found that no matter what I did, I would not lose. I could not drop the weight. I bought the Cize dance program to dance the fat away- I didn’t stick with it. And I was trying to not do anything drastic diet-wise- I can’t do all day protein waters, or starvation, or binging/purging- I just don’t have the desire to punish myself, I’ve done that for so long and it’s only gotten me where I am. Finally I decided to see a therapist- if I couldn’t lose the weight, I needed to find a way to like myself, because I was really low, and I can’t afford to be depressed- I have too much to do- I have a family to take care of, I have 2 dogs with special needs and a cat, I work from home with my husband and it’s a very demanding job, and I have a house to run. I don’t have time to be depressed. Two things occurred to me around this time:

1- I realized that if I had never gone on a diet starting at 13 years old, I bet I would weigh much less than I do now. Years of diets has taken a toll on my body and my health. And more than that, the really heartbreaking thing is all the years I have spent hating myself, for what?

DID I EVER MANAGE TO HATE MYSELF THIN? NO- I DIDN’T.

2- I want to weigh 125. My older self knows that 140 is a much more realistic goal, given my age, the fact that I am in (or close to) pre-menopause, I possibly have PCOS, and how far I have to go. Then the diet-educated part of myself knows that the yo-yo dieting over the years has probably raised my body’s natural weight set point, so who knows? When I went in to therapy, I decided that if I could get to under 180, I could be happy with myself because that’s when all of my health problems began- aching hips, back, knees: snoring, cystic acne, etc.

AGAIN- I COULDN’T FIND A WAY TO BE HAPPY WITH MYSELF AS I WAS, BUT SUCH IS THE SICKNESS.

I live in a small town, so I had to just cross my fingers and hope that the therapist I got was a good one, because not many accept my insurance. I got lucky- I saw Risa for about 5 months, built up my self esteem, started standing up for myself and doing good things for me and my body, and she pronounced me “cured”, with the understanding that I could call her if I needed her. That was a proud moment for me because I usually don’t finish things, and it made me feel even better about her as a doctor/therapist because she could’ve taken my money forever (my mother saw a therapist for over 10 years) so I was worried that she would never let me go and I would have to quit and be a quitter. During therapy I started taking daily walks with my dog and started yoga, and I lost a few pounds, between 5-8.

I was still of the mindset that diets don’t work, and that I have to heal my relationship with food and my body, gently, with no punishing diets, Geneen Roth style, Susie Orbach style. I still believe all the things they say- eat when hungry, eat what you are hungry for, eat with no distractions, stop when you are full. I believe what they are saying, but I cannot make it work for me. And try as I might, I cannot accept myself at this weight. Wait, no- I can accept myself at this weight, but I do hate it, and I know with every fiber of my being that this is not me- this is not how I am supposed to be. I will be more comfortable when my joints don’t ache, and I don’t have high blood pressure. So something has to give.

I was gentle as I could be with myself until I got a year of no smoking under my belt- I knew I had to give myself the time to adjust to that. I was angry about the

weight gain, but it’s not like I was surprised- I knew it would happen. I probably would have gone back to smoking if I knew for sure that I would lose those 15-20 pounds. But I knew that wouldn’t happen, so I had to stay the course. 

As soon as I hit the year mark, I heard about “Bright Line Eating”, and it resonated with me. Bright Lines are like boundaries that you don’t cross. Ever. And if you do cross them, you go right back to the boundaries. You resume. Bright Lines were NO SUGAR and NO FLOUR. White Lines. Bright Lines. Addictive as cocaine, flour and sugar are. Made perfect sense to me. There were other bright lines I wasn’t ready to get on board with- weighing your food, eating 3 times per day. Period. Writing down the next day’s food and eating only what you wrote. I didn’t care about those. But no sugar and no flour sounded good. So, starting on Oct 3rd, and weighing 212, I started an atkins-like diet, except I could eat potatoes, rice, fruit and triscuits, although in moderation. I still would have an afternoon snack, but no evening snack. I got used to it pretty quickly, and was feeling good. Decided to weigh every two weeks. After the first 2 weeks, I lost 6 lbs. I was writing down what I ate. The diet looked like this:

Breakfast- 2 cups of coffee with cream, no artificial sweeteners allowed.

6 triscuits with natural peanut butter and a banana.

Lunch- Chef Salad

Snack- 20 raw almonds and 1 babybel cheese

Dinner- Taco meat on arugula

Thanksgiving came and I was worried because my Mom was coming and usually diets go right out the window when Mom comes. I had already decided that I was going to allow myself stuffing and gravy. I didn’t allow myself peanut butter cookies, which I love. I was so proud of myself. But the scale just got more and more depressing. I managed to get to 198.6 (which thrilled me because I love getting under 200- 200 is the number that I really can’t stand), but then 2 weeks would go by with no loss, and then 2 weeks later, 2 pound gain, and then 2 weeks later, nothing. I was like “Really? Already?” When you have 75lbs to lose, you don’t expect to get stalled 10lbs in. That’s part of the problem, too- those pesky expectations. 

Finally, I gave in and broke my bright lines about a week before Christmas. I was tentative at first, but then it was like the “just one cigarette”- yesterday found me swigging liberally at egg nog throughout the day (and there are like 500 calories in a half a cup of eggnog!) Funny thing about eggnog- I was watching “Mike & Molly” the other day- Molly was depressed about something, swigging nog from the container, sitting on the couch near Vince. Vince says “I never understand how you can drink that stuff without the liquor- it’s basically pancake batter!” OMG- I almost peed my pants- it’s so true. But even seeing that didn’t put me off the stuff, unfortunately. But yes- I’ve been eating all of the peanut butter cookies I missed at Thanksgiving, and plenty of chocolate!

Ok- this post is long enough, so here’s the plan:

Plan A- I am going to try HCG drops for the next month- 2 days of carb loading followed by 3 or 4 weeks of a strict diet- no breakfast, except coffee (I must have my coffee), then protein plus veggies for lunch and dinner. If I make it that far, then I have a few weeks of a modified plan to ease me in to regular eating. I can expect to lose 20-30 lbs if I am successful.

After Plan A has been completed (I could do another round, but I have to wait 8 weeks after the original 28 days before trying again), or if Plan A is not completed,

Plan B- Weight Watchers. I’ve never tried it, and I believe that new things work the first time around (like the nicotine patches worked for me). This year I can afford it, I work from home so I can go to the Tuesday 9:30 am meetings. And I love me some Oprah! I love the idea of Weight Watchers because:

1- Supposedly, you can eat whatever you want, nothing is off limits

2- Weekly weigh ins- never done that, either. I would think that keeps you motivated

3- Camaraderie- maybe I can make some new like-minded friends.

Ok- that’s enough for today, I’ll be back tomorrow with the dreaded weight. I haven’t weighed in several weeks, so I’m anxious/worried to see what the number is.

Do you have any goals this year? Let’s do it together!