Life’s Hard Lessons

There’s an old saying of “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” This is a great saying, but over the past 5 years, I have made so many pitches, gallons, and 50 gallon barrels of the stuff with every start and stop along the weight loss trek, that I have probably lost count. I think the worst part is that I have put it here on the world wide web for anyone to see my failures. I keep reaching, thinking that this time it’ll be different. But it’s not. It has yet to be. I think I may have finally figured out the (my) problem. It has all been in my mind set.

I keep going into every year like a cliff diver in competition in Mexico, ready to plunge head first into the depths without thinking about the consequences. I would go full tilt for the first three or so months and hit a plateau, or burn myself out, or hurt myself. The end result would always be the same: I’d quit. I would look at the progress that I had made and kiss it goodbye, inevitably reversing my progress and adding more to where I started.

I thought I was at my lowest point last year when I last took the dive, weighing in at 247 pounds (see my post here). I was wrong. Too much stress eating. Too much mindless, fog eating while at work or at hope. Couple that with no exercise and we have where I am today, I think that, for right now, I am going to keep the numbers to myself. Cowardly? Yes.

I am stepping into 2018 with a different way of thinking about this. I am not going to say that I am on a diet because that way of thinking has crapped out on me too many times. Instead, I am going in to 2018 making a lifestyle change. The four letter word does nothing for me other than making me angry…

What do I mean by a lifestyle change? I am going to focus on altering my eating habits, logging in everything I eat, and keeping my daily calorie count under 1600. I am going to focus on drinking more water, and stepping away from the sweet tea at the golden arches. I am going to start getting more active, slow and steady, building up as my body lets me.

What are my motivations this time? Why am I trying again? There are a few reasons. The first is I am tired of being tired all the time. Knowing I am unhealthy but not doing anything to change it is stupid. I am tired of being an embarrassment to my children (my feelings -they’ve never said anything to me about being embarrassed). Third is my son graduates college in May of this year with a degree in kinesiology, and I don’t want to be the fat mom there. I have a feeling there are so many more reasons on the horizon, I just do not want to wait any more.

How am I going to accomplish this? Wait, just how much is ‘this” that I am talking about? Let me answer the second question first. Overall, I want to lose 100 pounds, yes, I know it’s a lot. That is how much of the too much of me there is. Now, for the how? I have signed up for a weight loss app called Noom to help me get through this change. Add to that eating better, more water, and more exercise. And small goal chunks. My first goal chunk is to drop to 246.4, and I know this is doable. I am going to make an effort to hit the gym daily for at least an hour of cardio to rebuild some muscle, and start erasing some of the fat that I have accumulated.

My goal here is to try and document every other day, if not daily, how its going, how I am feeling, what are my struggles and accomplishments. I would say fingers crossed, but it’s not up to luck or chance this time. It’s up to ME.

A New Year, kinda

Here we are *toots a horn* five days into a brand spanking new year; aren’t you excited? I mean, with me at least, every “new year” is the same thing over and over: I resolve to be more active, have more fun, push out the walls of comfort and live a little, find my inner happiness, write, exercise, lose weight, etcetera. A few years ago, when I started blogging (before I quit for a year), I had reached a low point in my life. I was so disgusted with myself and the way my life was turning out, and how I was shaping up. I made a commitment to myself, and those who read my blog, to share my journey through diet and exercise hell, all in the hopes of liking myself. I had great success at first, going to the gym almost manically, losing something like 14 pounds ij the first month, but then I gave up on myself as my life took a tragic turn, and I started funneling all of the emotions into writing rather than keeping up with the much needed exercise.

I’ve watched myself turn back into the borderline morbidly obese woman that I had once tried so hard to beat, and I guess you could say that I have beat her… I am now bigger than I was back then; the scale and the measuring tape with say so. I made the decision the week before Christmas o try something new after the festivities of the new year were done. I saw an add on FB for a dance studio offering an introductory ballroom lesson for $49 and I jumped on it. Monday. January 2, was the next “new” start. I say this because I decided to take to heart the posts I kept seeing on FB saying that, on January 1, it was the start of a new 365 page story, write a good one. Well, I worked on New Years Day, so my new story started on January 2… I went to that dance lesson and I.Loved. It. I’m ready to go back again, have some more fun, awaken muscles that haven’t been used since the 1990’s! Yes, I was a sweaty mess, yes, I was clumsy, but I still left smiling.

But wait, there’s more (stop grumbling)! I also joined a new gym, one that is closer to where I live withe better, and much more, equipment than the last one had. Of course, when you join a gym, you get your “free consultation with a personal trainer,” and yep, I bit the bullet and bought a month of training, three times a week. Today was the first session with him, Sam. He might just fall into the category of Sadist, just like my original one was all those years ago.

I didn’t cry, not this morning, and not since then, at least not yet. We did the weight, body fat, and measurements today. It was bad; real bad. He was kind, telling me that he didn’t have to tell me the numbers, but if I’m going to give this another try, then I have to own the numbers. And, like last time, I will not hide anything from myself in tis blog. I’ll share the fun, the tears, the failures, the successes,  the gains, and the losses. I will say that I HOPE to #giveit100 – we will see together, so far I’m completed 3 days.

Here is the ugly truth: Weight -247.2  Body fat- 40 Neck -17 1/2 inches Waist-46 inches Hips- 50 inches

As I said, I’ve not cried. Yet.

 

 

Mirror, Mirror

Over the course of this blog, it has morphed from this, to that, to something in outer space, and back to Earth as something else all together. Wow, I’ve either covered a lot of ground, or I have a lot to say, or I just share whatever is rolling around in my mind…I guess that third option pretty well covers it. Now it seems Im going to write about what I started with so very long (almost 2 years?!?) ago.

Back in July 2013 I stepped on the scale and crumbled inside myself at the number. It was an eye opener, that’s for sure (you can read it here). I made the decision then and there to improve myself, eat healthier, get exercise, become fit versus the fat. I went to a local gym, joined immediately, and signed up for twice weekly sessions with a trainer, who I went on to refer to as Sadist in follow up posts.I was focused, dedicated, and happily workingman ass off and stress out of my system. Then the inevitable happened…

I burned out. I went too hard, too fast, and my mind, my focus, blipped out. When I worked out it was, admittedly half assed. I gave up on myself. The shame and embarrassment were back, stronger than ever. I tried to like myself, pretending that I did, but looking in the mirror grew more and more difficult.

Life and death happened. Books closed and new books with fresh pages opened for me to write the new part of my life on…and I have written. I can spin tales, smiling while I do, making everyone believe the lies are truth. Everyone, that is, except for me.

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I hate the mirror. When I do look at it, I hate what I see when my eyes travel lower than my face because that is when I see the truth. What I see and how I react to it? They’re neither one healthy. No, there’s no self harming. But the constant, persistent voice inside my head is back, like an achy tooth. It nags at me, when I look in the mirror.

I’m back to square one, with a lot more weight than I had twenty-two months ago. I need to get back. I need to move. I need to focus. I need to succeed.

I have to start.

Cheers for 2015!

I did it. I have blown the sides of my comfortable little box wide open. I ended last year with the release of my first book, a novella that, while not a best seller, I can take pride in the fact that I wrote my first book, and am currently working on another two.

Beyond that, and wow, is that crazy for me to even say?!, is that I have followed a dream and travelled to Ireland. I’m actually sitting in the hotel pub! My holiday here ends on Tuesday before I venture into London and then onto France to visit with my brother and his family.

I wrote back in June (Really? That long ago??) that I was going to start living boldly (you can read about it here). I gave a list of things that I wanted to accomplish, and while I never made it to the dance classes, I did make it out of the country. This is, in my mind, a much bigger leap in the “live boldly” pool.

What can I try and challenge myself with this year? Of course theres the obligatory “lose weight,” “exercise more,” “Get healthy,” routine that I pledge to do every year, but never get around to doing… Maybe a bit of reverse psychology is needed? This year I resolve to do nothing healthy, eat pure crap and laze around all the time?

This year I will try to respect myself more. I am who I am, nothing more, nothing less. I can’t expect people to like me if I don’t like myself. How can I like myself if I don’t respect myself?

This year I’m going to do at least three things that will better me. Maybe learn something? Train for, and complete, something? I don’t know, but it has to be three things.

This year I’m going to be a better Mom, and a better daughter. I let the events of early last year control so much of my time. It’s been almost a year; it’s time to move on.

I’m sure there’re more things that will pop into my brain as the year goes; we’ll see what happens in 2015.

Hell hath no fury like a…

…Like a trainer scorned. Forget about the whole “woman scorned” thing, I stepped back into the gym, AKA Dungeon, on Friday to meet with my long ignored trainer, AKA Sadist, AKA Satan. I should have known something was up. Oh, he gave no easily recognized clues, but I should have picked up on the happy malevolence that was him.

dungeon

It started easily enough, warming up on the treadmill for 10 minutes of walking, getting the blood pumping a bit faster, warming up my neglected muscles. You all know the drill whether you are an gym rat, or a gym ghost (like me). There I am, happily plodding along on the treadmill, thinking various thoughts when he asks if I am ready to roll. I should never have said “yes” to that question…

Satan leads me into his den -er, office, where he announces that we are starting from scratch with me, need to get me back to the motivated, on track client that I once was, and then he cores the unspeakable… He pulls out the tape measure and the body fat thingy (*not its clinical name) and tells me to hop on the scale.

Efffffffffffffffffffffffff.

I knew what the scale would say, I had been to the doctor two days before that, so I walked out and walked back in, giving him that number. He wrote it down on the new, clean “progress” page, and then went to flipping back in his book to where I was before I basically quit on myself. I had ballooned all the way up to where I had been, plus an additional 20 pounds. You can see the progress I had made here.

After the weigh in and body fat analyst, he pulled out out the dreaded tape measure. Yeah, um, let’s just say my month of horrors began a few days early. It’s humbling to see myself reduced back to numbers again; numbers that I promised myself I would stay away from. What was even more distressing was the fact that I have let myself go so much that the workout had me huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf and sweating like a newbie at a chili pepper eating contest.

The question, or trick, is how to re-motivate myself? I know that it’s about my health, the very health I’ll need to watch my children eventually graduate college and grace me with grand babies. Ive looked throughout my home searching for a genie, or some “miracle fat cure” that would make this time around different from the last too-many-to-counts.

I’ll figure it out,  or at least try to. There are a lot of potholes on this road that I’ve laid in front of me, I just need to be better at dodging them.

josh