This week went well. Monday thru Thursday I stuck to my food plan or at least made adjustments that were the same calories if not the best food choices. For instance, Thursday we had perch. Fried perch is one of our favorite meals. I bake all the other fish we eat and I’ve tried baking perch. It was not good. We only do it once or twice a month and that’s the only thing I cook that’s fried. It’s worth it. I just planed my day’s calories accordingly, not just for the calories, but also the fats. I also made sure I had a really good work out. If I plan it out, it can still be healthy.
So all week I was disciplined, worked out hard, even when I didn’t want to.
Here is where real life steps in. Last night I went to a concert at Rockin’ on the River (weekly outdoor festival) because a friend was playing. He started at 6 so I would have no time to eat between work and the concert. I knew that I would not be able to resist having a hot dog and a beer, so I planned the days menu around that and packed some carrots in my purse so that I could have one healthy thing at the show and I would feel full. Feeling full would help me stay away from the funnel cakes and fries.
A bunch of us started dancing up front after I had finished my hot dog, carrots, and beer. After we had been up there a while someone brought me another beer. What I really wanted was water. However, being very thirsty I drank the beer. (I should have stopped dancing and got my own water instead) One of my friends finally went and got us all water. We danced through most of the show. I would say I danced for at least 45 minutes and I never stopped. It truly was like an aerobic workout. After the show I was very hot, thirsty, and my muscles were crying out for water and carbs. I went and got 16 ounces of water and drank it, then refilled the bottle at the drinking fountain. I was really hungry. Popcorn is one of my better standbys at these festivals. Unfortunately all they had was kettle corn and the smallest bag was really big. Some one was handing out samples of something in lunch size paper bags. I went and got one, took out the samples and poured enough popcorn to fill the bag. I gave the big bag to the rest of the girls because they were all hungry too (and young and skinny). This was my solution for not eating the whole big bag (because I totally could have).
I was worried I had really gone over my calorie limit so when I got home I plugged in my activity from dancing and my extra carbs from the second beer and the popcorn. As it turned out, all that dancing raised my calorie burn so much that even with the extra calories I was still well within my calorie deficit range. With the added activity I actually needed those extra calories. Was my nutrition analyses good? Not particularly, but my fats were not past what is my highest allowed.
This experience taught me two things:
I can survive a carnival or any other ‘away from home real life situation’ by making the best choices available and limiting my portions. Adding extra activity was also very important.
The other thing I learned is to pack a little more carbs, just in case. If I had packed my multi grain crackers I would have had good carbs, because of the added fiber, and a lot less sugar.
Even with real life thrown in I managed to keep my calorie deficit within range for every day this week. I have good hopes for my weekly weigh in. I usually do my weigh in on Saturday, but because it was so hot last night and I drank that beer, I know I am retaining water. So I’m going to drink a lot of water today and weigh in tomorrow. I’ll post the results.
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
This Blog's Purpose and How I Became Fat
INTRODUCTION
This blog will chronicle my journey through the last 10 pounds that I must loose.
10 pounds doesn't sound like much, but it is everything! Those pounds symbolize me having fully taken my life back. There are the pounds that I have come so close to loosing three times, but failed and eventually gone back to my starting weight. I promise you, the reader, full honesty with regard to my methods, struggles, failures and success. What do I hope to accomplish? My hope is that this blog will hold me accountable, to myself and to you. Also that , in some measure, the account of my journey will help others. I do not intend to bare my entire soul for the sake of confession or narcissism. However, I do intend full disclosure as it relates to my weight loss and the obstacles I face in that regard.
To my friends and acquaintances: If you already know me and some of these disclosures surprise or even shock you, I would ask that you keep it in perspective. This is real risky ground for me. For all of my gabbiness amongst my friends, at times to the point of what could be considered over sharing, I am actually a very private person. I keep secrets. If in a social situation, I share what would be thought to be private information, it is a smoke screen; a closeted shyness. I'm hiding something far more private and telling and attempting to mask my insecurities. Playing the open book keeps people from a desire to look any deeper. It keeps them at a safe distance. No one searches for your secrets if they believe you have none. So now I have risked that you will wonder what else I hide when you read things here that I have pledged to disclose. I risk the judgments of my social circle which is one of my great fears. Please be kind in your assessments. Maybe this sacred space of honesty can accomplish more than it's intended task. Maybe it can also relieve me of my social insecurities and remove the distance in my friendships.
This is the reality of weight loss. Everyone has a story of how they got fat and it relates entirely to what their struggles will be when they begin the task of loosing that weight. The parts of our lives are not perfect compartments. Our entire being, physical, mental, emotional, past, and perceived future are all a part of the process. So I will begin this blog with the story of how I got fat.
HOW I BECAME FAT
Four years ago this past May (it seems like 10 years ago) I had a serious fall. I will not waste effort giving the details other than to say it did lasting damage to my body. I will struggle with my back, my mobility, and pain for the rest of my life. I am presently 43 years old. I will alleviate you of performing the math by telling you I was 39 at the time of my accident. Before the injury I felt 10 years younger and people often mistook me for younger than that. I was in excellent physical shape and very active. I enjoyed having a very active life. Camping, hiking, horseback riding, you name it. I had a very physical job cleaning homes and for a time doing construction rehab. One of my most productive and healing outlets was my work with ceramics and clay sculpture. I handled large amounts of clay and spent countless hours at the potter's wheel.
My personality required and emotional stability depended upon my ability to be in motion.
I have always been a high energy, dynamic person full of ideas and creativity. I enjoy my quite moments with reading, writing, knitting, and meditation, but these seemed to be moments of decompression and refueling rather than my natural state. All of this means that because I was functioning according to my natural needs there was a cushion that allowed me to indulge, with out consequence, in my favorite comfort foods. I am Irish American. The food on the table in my grandparents home, and consequently my home growing up, included many forms of the potato. Also my grandmother was a consummate baker, as am I. All forms of potatoes and baked goods are my decadent pleasures. They are my comfort. I did not have a poor diet. I liked fruits and vegetable and lean meats. I even like vegetarian fare. I only resorted to unhealthy diets as per necessity when dealing with poor finances.
Important note: Being poor, impoverished, is to be poor in diet. Unless you have the land available to grow your own food, inexpensive food is usually bad food.
The inability to be in motion after the injury was devastating not only to my physical being, but most importantly, my mental and emotional well being. Since this was a work related injury there was the added struggle to have my needs met. There was no physical therapy given, no real physical support or healing offered; only pain pills. As the struggle with pain and limited mobility dragged on, by November I was in serious trouble. I had gained 20 pounds, lost much of my muscle tone, and the pain medication was beginning to have terrible effects on my mental and emotional health. As the Ohio winter began taking it's hold the pain increased beyond the help of pain medication and what had already been nights of little productive sleep became nights of virtually no sleep. I spent most nights in a recliner praying for the moment when total exhaustion would finally take me to some measure of sleep.
I became a person who spent my days eating comfort foods and watching day time TV between naps. I became increasingly unstable emotionally and mentally. I was paranoid and severely depressed with moments of mania and angry fits. I refer to the winter of 2005 as the Winter of Fat and Crazy. By January of 2006 I was 180 pounds and horribly disgusted when I looked in the mirror. This did not help my mental state.
One day while escaping in the world of Myspace, I received a call from the insurance company wanting to know how I was doing. I went into a tirade. I vented all of my anger, pain and disgust at that woman. She seemed unwavered. "So I guess that means you are not doing well." she said. "We have a new doctor we would like you to see to be reevaluated." This would be the third examination they had required me to go to and the result was always the same. No help. This trip would have require me to be in a car for forty five minutes of hell to reach the appointed doctor. "Like Hell!" I screamed and slammed down the phone. I was fuming and pacing. I was fully aware at that moment of my victimhood and helplessness. Something in me bubbled up and screamed "NO!" and I knew I had to take my life back. I began making phone calls and did not stop until I had an appointment with Vocational Rehabilitation and a mental health clinic. I called my church and asked if I could volunteer in some capacity relative to my physical ability.
I received the help I needed, began fighting back, and eventually received the physical therapy I needed and some of the treatment I required. I could never go back to the work I had done before and began preparing for a new career. By January of 2007, I had much of my sanity and enough mobility to reclaim some of my former life as well as a new job; a job I love.
What I also had was 35 pounds of extra weight. I still did not feel healthy or in any way attractive. Instead of looking 10 years younger, I looked my age and then some. I felt much older than that.
My counselor and I decided that this was my new challenge. This weight represented the last remnants of my victimhood. I would not feel fully reclaimed until it was gone. In the midst of all of this I had started parimenopause. This would be an added obstacle. With the help of my doctor's advise, I determined that 140 pounds was a reasonable weight to reach and maintain for a medium frame, 5'4 woman in her forties. If I could reach the 135 mark, all the better.
So, in April of 2007, the journey began and I carried all of this baggage with me.
This blog will chronicle my journey through the last 10 pounds that I must loose.
10 pounds doesn't sound like much, but it is everything! Those pounds symbolize me having fully taken my life back. There are the pounds that I have come so close to loosing three times, but failed and eventually gone back to my starting weight. I promise you, the reader, full honesty with regard to my methods, struggles, failures and success. What do I hope to accomplish? My hope is that this blog will hold me accountable, to myself and to you. Also that , in some measure, the account of my journey will help others. I do not intend to bare my entire soul for the sake of confession or narcissism. However, I do intend full disclosure as it relates to my weight loss and the obstacles I face in that regard.
To my friends and acquaintances: If you already know me and some of these disclosures surprise or even shock you, I would ask that you keep it in perspective. This is real risky ground for me. For all of my gabbiness amongst my friends, at times to the point of what could be considered over sharing, I am actually a very private person. I keep secrets. If in a social situation, I share what would be thought to be private information, it is a smoke screen; a closeted shyness. I'm hiding something far more private and telling and attempting to mask my insecurities. Playing the open book keeps people from a desire to look any deeper. It keeps them at a safe distance. No one searches for your secrets if they believe you have none. So now I have risked that you will wonder what else I hide when you read things here that I have pledged to disclose. I risk the judgments of my social circle which is one of my great fears. Please be kind in your assessments. Maybe this sacred space of honesty can accomplish more than it's intended task. Maybe it can also relieve me of my social insecurities and remove the distance in my friendships.
This is the reality of weight loss. Everyone has a story of how they got fat and it relates entirely to what their struggles will be when they begin the task of loosing that weight. The parts of our lives are not perfect compartments. Our entire being, physical, mental, emotional, past, and perceived future are all a part of the process. So I will begin this blog with the story of how I got fat.
HOW I BECAME FAT
Four years ago this past May (it seems like 10 years ago) I had a serious fall. I will not waste effort giving the details other than to say it did lasting damage to my body. I will struggle with my back, my mobility, and pain for the rest of my life. I am presently 43 years old. I will alleviate you of performing the math by telling you I was 39 at the time of my accident. Before the injury I felt 10 years younger and people often mistook me for younger than that. I was in excellent physical shape and very active. I enjoyed having a very active life. Camping, hiking, horseback riding, you name it. I had a very physical job cleaning homes and for a time doing construction rehab. One of my most productive and healing outlets was my work with ceramics and clay sculpture. I handled large amounts of clay and spent countless hours at the potter's wheel.
My personality required and emotional stability depended upon my ability to be in motion.
I have always been a high energy, dynamic person full of ideas and creativity. I enjoy my quite moments with reading, writing, knitting, and meditation, but these seemed to be moments of decompression and refueling rather than my natural state. All of this means that because I was functioning according to my natural needs there was a cushion that allowed me to indulge, with out consequence, in my favorite comfort foods. I am Irish American. The food on the table in my grandparents home, and consequently my home growing up, included many forms of the potato. Also my grandmother was a consummate baker, as am I. All forms of potatoes and baked goods are my decadent pleasures. They are my comfort. I did not have a poor diet. I liked fruits and vegetable and lean meats. I even like vegetarian fare. I only resorted to unhealthy diets as per necessity when dealing with poor finances.
Important note: Being poor, impoverished, is to be poor in diet. Unless you have the land available to grow your own food, inexpensive food is usually bad food.
The inability to be in motion after the injury was devastating not only to my physical being, but most importantly, my mental and emotional well being. Since this was a work related injury there was the added struggle to have my needs met. There was no physical therapy given, no real physical support or healing offered; only pain pills. As the struggle with pain and limited mobility dragged on, by November I was in serious trouble. I had gained 20 pounds, lost much of my muscle tone, and the pain medication was beginning to have terrible effects on my mental and emotional health. As the Ohio winter began taking it's hold the pain increased beyond the help of pain medication and what had already been nights of little productive sleep became nights of virtually no sleep. I spent most nights in a recliner praying for the moment when total exhaustion would finally take me to some measure of sleep.
I became a person who spent my days eating comfort foods and watching day time TV between naps. I became increasingly unstable emotionally and mentally. I was paranoid and severely depressed with moments of mania and angry fits. I refer to the winter of 2005 as the Winter of Fat and Crazy. By January of 2006 I was 180 pounds and horribly disgusted when I looked in the mirror. This did not help my mental state.
One day while escaping in the world of Myspace, I received a call from the insurance company wanting to know how I was doing. I went into a tirade. I vented all of my anger, pain and disgust at that woman. She seemed unwavered. "So I guess that means you are not doing well." she said. "We have a new doctor we would like you to see to be reevaluated." This would be the third examination they had required me to go to and the result was always the same. No help. This trip would have require me to be in a car for forty five minutes of hell to reach the appointed doctor. "Like Hell!" I screamed and slammed down the phone. I was fuming and pacing. I was fully aware at that moment of my victimhood and helplessness. Something in me bubbled up and screamed "NO!" and I knew I had to take my life back. I began making phone calls and did not stop until I had an appointment with Vocational Rehabilitation and a mental health clinic. I called my church and asked if I could volunteer in some capacity relative to my physical ability.
I received the help I needed, began fighting back, and eventually received the physical therapy I needed and some of the treatment I required. I could never go back to the work I had done before and began preparing for a new career. By January of 2007, I had much of my sanity and enough mobility to reclaim some of my former life as well as a new job; a job I love.
What I also had was 35 pounds of extra weight. I still did not feel healthy or in any way attractive. Instead of looking 10 years younger, I looked my age and then some. I felt much older than that.
My counselor and I decided that this was my new challenge. This weight represented the last remnants of my victimhood. I would not feel fully reclaimed until it was gone. In the midst of all of this I had started parimenopause. This would be an added obstacle. With the help of my doctor's advise, I determined that 140 pounds was a reasonable weight to reach and maintain for a medium frame, 5'4 woman in her forties. If I could reach the 135 mark, all the better.
So, in April of 2007, the journey began and I carried all of this baggage with me.
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