Chronicles of a Late Bloomer

Celebrating: 25 pounds gone (still)

Grateful for: losing a little weight, even though the dreaded PMS has yet to deliver on its promises.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 329.2
This week: 326.4
Change this week: -2.8
Total change: -28.2
Next milestone: 30 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: Migraines cannot stop me.

I am NOT a girl who goes for cliches or trite sayings, and the weight-loss world (if there is such a thing) is full of them. My primary problem is that most of them seem so negative and belittling. I mean, consider exhibit A:

A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.

On the surface, sort of cute, right? But when you think about it, a terrible message to send. It essentially demonizes all food, regardless of nutrition, and warns you about those damnable hips. I’m sorry, but hips are lovely and wonderful and make us womanly. There are worse boogeymen in the world than hips, I think you’ll agree.

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

To me, this implies that people who are, say, naturally skinny walk around in a state of euphoria all the time. I mean, they must, since a piece of good cake tastes euphoric to me! This cliche assigns some magical and very emotional power to thinness and to thin people, which in turn condemns fat people. I’m not into it.

So, when I say that my Weight Watchers leader believes that words have power, and that she uses the structure of words to help change our thinking, I certainly don’t mean to imply that she is spouting cliche’s all the time. However, she does have some key phrases and sound bites that I’ve been chewing on for the past few weeks.

There’s no bad food, only bad math.

I like this one particularly because, overall, it is positive. It’s accepting of both a variety of foods and ourselves! Imagine! We are not bad people, we only need to brush up on our math skills! I think anyone who has taken the SAT’s would agree with that statement.

I was reading from G.G. yesterday, who was detailing a list of (for lack of a better word) indiscretions from the previous week. Splurges. She had indulged in a tiny, individual-sized ice cream and had allowed popcorn at the movies. Oh — and while we’re thinking of it — she’d had “a bit” of chocolate cake and “a handful” of chips as well!

The cliche police would have run her to the edge of a cliff and stoned her to death. “A MOMENT ON THE LIPS!” they’d chant. “A MOMENT ON THE LIPS!” And yet…

What I have learned to do, though, is compensate for those splurges. I’d eaten lightly Saturday […] I was able to juggle food to fit in some special things without overdoing it or feeling deprived or hungry at any point.

Sounds like G.G. is learning new math. For my part, I’m trying to learn my way out of a world ruled by logarithm and exponential. A bite of cake is actually not bad^evil. It is, in fact, a world away from my previous habit of eating the entire cake. That’s not calculus, it’s arithmetic. I know what a “bite” of cake does. It puts me at risk of an insulin spike. This puts me at risk of urges and cravings for MORE (hence, eating the whole cake). It contains more calories than a bite of broccoli, yet on many days I eat its caloric equivalent in broccoli. This is not emotional turmoil. It’s just math.

And so, I sometimes eat the bite of cake. I do so carefully, mindfully, and infrequently. It is this size (small) and frequency (less often) that makes this math new to me, and that’s the kind of change that helps.

Celebrating: 25 pounds gone

Grateful for: hormones that are thoughtful enough to peak on a semi-consistent basis.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 327.4
This week: 329.2
Change this week: +1.8
Total change: -25.4
Next milestone: 30 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: It is the behavioral, not the numerical changes that matter from week to week.

Vickie, on a previous post, reminded me about the importance of momentum when you are working toward a goal. Then, she asked:

It sounds as if you are feeling empowered. do you feel that way???

I don’t know if I would have used the word “empowered” to describe this whole process so far. I would say that I’m feeling relieved. I mean, I of course know how to behave in order to maximize my health, but for whatever reason I have rarely been able to do it. Consequently, I feel clear-headed and grateful each time I am able to, say, eat sensibly or strap on my walking shoes.

More often than not, the struggles and issues of my life feel much more complex than they feel today. Whether it’s true or not, there is a cleanness and simplicity to my current sense that x plus y equals z in the battle for my health.

I don’t know what elements had to combine — what chemical reaction occurred — to spur me back into action. I don’t think I could duplicate the magical formula on my own, but I feel grateful and glad.

And, it’s not a struggle, yet. I feel calm, and open. I don’t need the unhealthy habits the way I have before. I wake up in time to pack a healthy lunch. I watch the Daily Show and use the treadmill when I get home. I fill up my time with other things than eating and lazing about.

Am I empowered? If I feel empowered by anything, it’s by the love and support of those around me. I feel empowered by a love for myself and a genuine care for my own well-being. I feel hopeful.

There was a time when a delivery like this would inspire awe and reverence in me; when I would have thought, “My very salvation has arrived.” In the past, I would look to a piece of equipment this large and powerful and assign to it all of my hopes and dreams for change. Here is the answer, I might think, to all of my questions: the solution to all of my problems.

But, when the new treadmill arrived, I didn’t find myself thinking about magical powers or easy answers. No, I stood, arms crossed, as the deliveryman kindly assembled the machine, and thought:

This is a tool like any other tool. It must be picked up and used if it is to do any good.

Celebrating: 25 pounds gone

Grateful for: making it through 2 weeks of family visits plus a holiday and still moving in the right direction.

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 328.0
This week: 327.4
Change this week: -0.6
Total change: -27.2
Next milestone: 30 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: Steady as she goes.

When I decided to go back to Weight Watchers, I committed to myself that I would “shop around” for a meeting leader who wouldn’t make me want to gouge out my eyes with a bookmark and choke myself with a Points Finder ™. Since the WW “plan” is more of a guideline for me and not law, what I really am looking for in a meeting is:

1. Consistent, outward evidence of my commitment to health.
2. Accountability and support.
3. TOOLS TO CHANGE MY THINKING.

I’ve lived through more WW leaders than I care to admit. There was the matronly, blue-haired figure who played to the grandmothers in the crowd. She liked to read cheesy quotes from old, leather-bound books and share “funny jokes” that were forwarded “through the email” by her grandson away at college. Also, she cackled.

Beverly Hills soccer mom chugged fat-free, sugar-free iced lattes through a straw at every meeting. Her voice just grated on me and she laughed at all her own jokes. She had frosted hair and fake fingernails and liked to talk about shopping. I mean, she liked to talk about shopping a lot.

Then there was blue collar type, with what appeared to be a stage-two mullet. Actually, I liked her. She was ultra-real. But, she could get a little lost sometimes, and had a hard time keeping the group on focus. Also, her trademark was that she would hand out (terrible, awful) recipes each week. No, thanks.

Fortunately, the leader who runs the Saturday morning group near me seems to be a much better fit. Here are the things I like about her so far:

Read the rest of this entry »

I know from experience that it takes around 30-35 pounds before people start to notice that I’ve lost weight. So, it shouldn’t surprise me that several people have commented to me in the past week or so that I look like I have, well, en-small-ened myself a bit. No, it shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.

I guess, in part, it surprises me because the majority of this weight was lost without me even really noticing it. I don’t know how heavy I was at my highest — only that my black pants wouldn’t button, my bras dug where they should not dig, and my joints were as whiney as a 13-year-old brat with a trust fund.

I think it’s safe to estimate that my weight peaked around Christmas, which was the last time my family members saw me. I didn’t work out how to get on a scale that registered anything other than shame until around February. By that time, I was up to 161.2 kilos (yes, I weighed myself in the dialysis unit because it was the only monster scale I could find at the children’s hospital where I work) but now I’m beginning to think that I weighed even more in December.

Since it usually takes 30-35 pounds before people notice a change, I think we can safely assume that I had unwittingly ballooned up to well over 360 pounds. I’m still counting 354 pounds (yeah, 161 kilos) as my “high” but I do think I was higher.

The evidence:

• 2 weeks ago, half of my family came for a visit to Disneyland and, by association, me. My mother (uncharacteristically) noticed that I look “smaller.” Also, I notice that I can comfortably wear my denim jacket again.
  
• My boyfriend, on stumbling across my overall weight loss numbers last week, said, “Well, I had noticed you lost weight but I didn’t want to say anything.” There’s a history as to why I would try to lose weight without sharing so with my significant other… but while I was silently eschewing white bread, white rice, mashed potatoes, and pasta, he silently continued to be the person most intimately acquainted with me and my 161.2+ kilos.
  
• My older sister — blessed with the family’s best metabolism and smallest frame, a head and a half shorter and 200 pounds lighter than I — is visiting this weekend. She, too, commented that I look “thinner.” This means something, coming from my former rival, the only woman I personally know who wore a size-zero wedding dress, and the queen of the restricted compliment.

In fact, I don’t know that any of these people were complimenting — merely registering data: I have not just lost weight. I have lost a noticeable amount of weight.

Celebrating: 25 pounds gone

Starting weight: 354.6 pounds
Last week: 334.0
This week: 328.0
Change this week: -6.0
Total change: -26.6
Next milestone: 30 pounds gone

This week’s mantra: These are just numbers, in the grand scheme of things. These are not tools with which to beat myself up ten months down the line after my weight loss has slowed.

I went grocery shopping last weekend to stock the house with things other than take-out wrappers and chocolate chip cookies. In doing so, my goal was to have healthy meal options that were easy to prepare after a long day of work (oh, convenience, you are my downfall). I packed my shopping cart full of frozen, single-serve protein sources — many of which were vegetarian alternatives that I’ve never tried before but looked delicious.

Then, for the first few evenings, I took my hunger by the scruff, led him into the interrogation room and strapped him to a chair. I made myself dinner of a large vegetable serving and a portion of protein and ate it one bite at a time. Then I turned on the big spotlight, bent intimidatingly over that Hunger Monster, slanted my eyes and barked, “How big are you now!?” I did this with each bite until I was finished — until the Hunger Monster sang like a noir canary. It took a few tries to affirm that this large vegetable and single-serve portion of protein was enough to put the Hunger Monster to bed for the night. I felt good. I was listening to my body and attuning to my needs and I stopped when I was done.

Quick. Easy. Proteiny. Painless. I eat, and then I go about my evening. Novel.

Apparently, I should have read more carefully when I picked up the delicious (but not meat-substituting) Vegetable Masala Burger from Trader Joe’s. I mean, a potato-based patty with grill marks? I didn’t see that one coming.

Indeed, the masala burger contains no meat, soy, or other protein to speak of and the idea of grilling it seems to make as much sense as stringing a beaded necklace from of a bowl of mashed potatoes, but darn it if that masala burger wasn’t absolutely delicious. Flaky, potato-ey, packed with flavor and spices, and according to my good-cop/bad-cop act, just the right quantity of food to satisfy.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, processed/mashed potatoes are to my hunger what canned spinach is to Popeye. Just when I expected the Hunger Monster to be huddled in the corner of the interrogation room, crying himself to sleep, he roared to life and tripled in size. Hunger Hulk’s head hit the ceiling as he bellowed, “MOOOOORE POTAAAAATOOOOOO.”

In the projection room of my mind — the one where I envision my actions before they happen — I saw myself not only eating the other three so-called burgers in the next 20 minutes, but also I saw myself rationalizing it. The words, “oh, they’re only 120 calories” and “they’re vegetarian, or whatever” and “it’d take four of those patties to get as much protein as one actual burger” flickered on the screen. I was suddenly ravenous, not sated as I had been the previous nights. It was as though I had shoved that potato patty into a syringe and mainlined it to the vein in my arm. I HAD TO HAVE MORE.

I made it through the evening without taking another bite. I was okay with that, too, since I wasn’t actually hungry. My body just had such a reaction to the potato that… holy crap. I think I have to avoid them for a while.