Not Your Average Birthday Present.....

Happy birthday to me! A weekend filled with golf, baseball, cycling, and gymnastics. It just doesn't get much better than this.

Hubby asked a couple of weeks ago what I wanted for my birthday. I had anticipated the question, but I still hadn't been able to come up with anything. We don't try to surprise each other, and gift buying is a challenge because A) we don't really NEED anything; and B) we tend to buy whatever we want when we want it. It's one of the perks of being a grown-up.

I thought of something yesterday, though, and it's the kind of thing he might get in trouble for if I didn't specifically request it.

I told him I wanted some sessions with a personal trainer at our local YMCA. I know, right?

I hit a plateau in my weight loss last year, and what I thought was a temporary stall has turned out to be nine months in duration. I eat right (mostly), I gave up beer and chocolate, I not only exercise but I LIKE it, so I'm more than a little frustrated with my loooooooooooooooong-term lack of additional progress. I did manage to lose 35 pounds, so maybe this is where my body thinks it SHOULD be. But I'd like to lose another 15 pounds (20 if I count the 5 that have crept back on...grrrrrrrrrrr), so I know I have to try something different.

I have read about the benefits of weight training and yoga, but I've only put them into practice sporadically. I've just about stopped going to Zumba because I've been cycling so much, and maybe I need that variety. I'm hoping a personal trainer can give me some pointers about how to mix things up without cutting back on my cycling. Because that isn't just exercise for me; it's who I am.

I got on the website for our local "Y" and found that I could purchase 3 one-hour sessions with a personal trainer for $100. That sounded reasonable to me, but since I wasn't going to be paying for it, I asked Hubby if I was worth that much. He texted back: "Get a year." I couldn't decide if he was saying I was worth that much or if he thought I might need a year. Let's go with the former, as it sounds like he was trying to be sweet. (He says that was his intent. He's at least smart enough to fake it if he has to.)

I kept scrolling on the page for the "Y" and it got even better. For the same $100, I can sign up for a "12 Weeks to a Better You" program. (I'm not sure they know what they're up against.) Here's what the website says:

Great program for beginning exercisers or those starting back slowly after a long break. Your 12 week program includes:

• 12 weeks of personal attention and motivation from a personal trainer
• 4 1-hour sessions with a personal trainer
• Gradual, baby steps into your fitness program
• A better chance that exercise will become a habit
• $100 fee (members only) - register at the front desk

This is sort of like the Team Lean competition I was in last year, only on an individual basis. It's one more one-hour session with a personal trainer, and I'm assuming there will be weekly check-ins and probably weigh-ins. I don't mind that; in fact, the accountability is often what keeps me on track.

I'm a little concerned about the wording, though. I'm not a beginning exerciser, and I'm not starting back slowly after a long break. I don't need gradual baby steps; I need a jump-start. Surely they can tailor the program to meet my needs too. I don't think I can pretend that I don't exercise at all.

I'm actually excited about the program. Hubby gave me a birthday card with the money for the 12-week program enclosed. I'd better go sign up for it soon, or I may chicken out and buy $100 worth of beer and chocolate.

Some Updates.....

I realized I haven't updated you lately on several ongoing situations. You may not be waiting with bated breath for these updates, but it gives me something to write about other than the fact that I have to go fold a load of laundry. You're welcome.

• My mother-in-law is doing well, although she is not able to walk very well. She has a motorized scooter, and she has asked Hubby (and sometimes me) to come and help her walk around her living room and dining room with her walker every day. I don't mind doing it, but her ultimate goal is to be able to drive again. Mother. Of. All. That. Is. Holy. We don't want her to drive, and right now she doesn't even have the leg strength to go out TO her car. But we don't want to take that big step of taking her car keys away either. I feel that will kill whatever dignity she has left. I'm not sure what the answer is. She even suggested to Hubby that he could come down there and help her in the car. I understand she doesn't want to be isolated and trapped in that house, but if she doesn't have the strength to walk on her own, who's to say she will have the reaction time required to operate a car? Shudder.
• Baby Luke is thriving, and his daddy is learning to get by on a lot less sleep. (Tee hee.) He's up over nine pounds and has a sweet little grin. They still haven't taken him out in public, except for trips to doctors and therapists, and I can't wait to see him in person. He's a cutie, and I am thankful for the miracles of modern medicine that this little guy has grown from 1 pound 15 ounces to where he is today.
• I got a new crown (next to the OTHER new crown) on the tooth that was giving me so much trouble, and while I was afraid it had all been for naught, it FINALLY stopped hurting. I still have only a temporary and will get the permanent crown next Wednesday. The date for my regular cleaning? Next Thursday. And no, they can't be combined into one appointment, thanks for asking. I will have been at my dentist's office more in a single month than I usually go in two and a half years. But the pain is gone, so I am eternally grateful for that. I don't remember the last time I CRIED in the dentist's chair, but I'm pretty sure it was before I started driving. I will, however, be happy when I can chew gum again. Although I typically only chew gum in the car, because I'm one of those people who should NEVER chew gum in public.
• I hit a weight plateau back in the summer, and not only have I NOT been able to break through it, I've allowed about 5 pounds to creep back on. I wanted to lose 15 more pounds, not turn them into 20 more to lose. I need to track my calories again, because that's what works. And stay away from roasted peanuts. They are my crack, and I can't stop once I get started.
• I'm almost finished with my latest crochet project because it's for someone who may still be reading my blog and I don't want to spoil the surprise. No, it isn't you. Or you. Or you. But it might be you. If you think you might have reason to expect an unexpected gift, it's probably for you. If it isn't, then your surprise will be NOT getting a crocheted gift.
• I'm reading a fabulous book that is 852 pages long, and I already know I'm going to be disappointed with the ending. Not the WAY it ends, just that it will be over. Luckily I believe it's part one of a trilogy. Review forthcoming.

Back in the (Saddle?) Again.....

During last school year, I got pretty good about getting on the elliptical every. single. morning. That was in addition to any cycling I might do in the afternoon, one or two nights at Zumba class, walking in the park with Hubby some afternoons, and cycling on the weekend.

I started out this year doing the same, but the routine of going to take care of Hubby's mama every morning began to get to me. I stopped getting on the elliptical every morning, even though I technically had the time to do so. I just chose to spend that time crocheting, reading, or playing on the computer. I justified it as "me" time that I deserved because I now had to make several trips down the road every day to take care of my mother-in-law.

Don't get me wrong; I didn't resent having to help her. I wasn't pouting and that's why I got out of my morning exercise routine. It was more an issue of using that time in the morning to decompress, trying to keep my sanity.

Mother-in-law has been back to taking care of herself for three weeks now, and it took me until this week to get back on the elliptical. It is SO HARD to get back into those routines once I get out of them. I tried to talk myself out of it this morning, but I finally made myself get dressed and go down to the dungeon basement to exercise.

And I feel much better throughout the day. My mood is better, and I haven't wanted to throttle nearly as many students this week since I've been getting my engine jump-started every morning.

I have to get back on the bandwagon as far as food goes too. I told myself I wouldn't use the Thanksgiving holiday as an excuse to overeat/eat the wrong things, but myself didn't listen very well.

And maybe it will be warm enough this weekend to do some cycling. I would like to shed these last 15 pounds (and the 5 friends they allowed to stay over after the holiday weekend) before the end of the school year.

Food as Fuel - Part 1.......

I've been thinking about food and eating a lot lately.

Oh, I guess for the last .... 50 years or so. I was probably thinking about food and eating while I was still in utero.

I've come up with some ideas about food that if I could only put into practice myself, I would look like that princess chick who just married that prince dude. But at least I'm thinking about them, which is one teensy step better than only thinking about my next meal. Or candy bar. Or snack.

Disclaimer: These thoughts may sound like I have the whole eating situation completely figured out and I will never have a weight problem again. Nothing can be farther from the truth. Correction: I DO have it all figured out, I just can't figure out how to put it into practice. 

I read something a while back, and in fact I think I remember making one of my usual snide remarks about it on this very blog. The concept is that we shouldn't eat until we are full; we should eat until we aren't hungry anymore.

When I read that (and commented on it), I remember posting something sarcastic like if I could do that, we wouldn't be HAVING this little talk.

But the truth is, that one little mantra actually works.

IF I can remember to think it sometime before the next-to-last bite on my plate.

IF I can make myself stop eating even knowing that I'm not hungry anymore.

I marveled once at my principal during lunch because she was having "leftovers" that wouldn't have filled up a tablespoon. At least that's how it appeared to me. Seriously, the amount of food she had saved from the night before to have for lunch at school the next day was such a small one that I wouldn't have bothered. I would have ... eaten it, even if I were already full.

Therein lies the part of the problem.

I've always been bad (?) to eat EVERYTHING THAT WAS THERE. No matter the quantity. If the portions were small and the food disappeared, I was satisfied. If the portions were huge and there happened to be some food left, I ate MORE OF IT.

I came up with the bright idea once that it must be my mother's fault, so I asked her if she had ever made us stay at the table until our plates were clean. I'd heard that tidbit before, so I was ready to blame her for making me eat more than I needed.

Her response? "I had to push you away from the table from the time you could sit up."

Ouch.

There were seven of us when I was very young, and I distinctly remember going around the table after a meal and eating whatever anyone else left. My eldest brother called me the "human garbage disposal." I didn't even know what a garbage disposal WAS, but I had a vague idea that it wasn't a good thing to be called.

Anyway, that's one thing I'm working on. It requires that I be MINDFUL of what I'm eating, how much I'm eating, and how I feel at any given moment during a meal. I'm not there yet. But I'm gaining on it.

Wait...what?

Did I really just say "GAINING on it"?

Body Image....Ugh.....

I know it isn't just me who has issues with body image. Why is it that the images we carry around in our heads of how we look NEVER matches what the mirror says?

I mean, it works both ways. Back about a gazillion years ago, when I lost 50 pounds, I was the slimmest I had ever been. I still don't think I would have been described as "thin," though. "Fit" maybe. But in my head I was still overweight, obese, fat. No wonder it's so easy to pack the pounds back on. One of my students offered me a cookie one day at school and I refused, saying, "I didn't lose 50 pounds just to put them back on." He looked confused and said, "You mean you used to be FAT?" I just stared at him, trying to see if he was making fun of me. (He wasn't.) I couldn't figure out the "used to be" part. I thought I still WAS.

And now that I've lost 35 pounds in the last year, I've tried to change the image in my head to a thinNER person (not necessarily a "thin" one). Sometimes I'm more successful than others. I know what size I wear, and I'm STILL amazed when I get something out of the closet and it actually fits. Seriously, I start to pull on a pair of pants and I think to myself, "These are going to cut me in two." Or I'm afraid they will look like my mother described it when I was about 10 years old and had a wonderfully cute new shorts outfit that had a tie belt with it. "You look like a sausage with a string tied around the middle," she said.

Thanks for THAT visual, Mom.

And even though the clothes still fit (some of my new things are actually a little too big, and that's just a little too damn BAD), I can't wrap my head around the fact that I am truly smaller than I was. It's a nice feeling when I can button a pair of pants without sucking in. 

Every now and then, though, I see a picture of me taken recently, and I'm discouraged. I don't want to be rail-thin (good thing, since it ain't EVER going to happen), but I want to have a nice shape. In pictures I still look round, just maybe basketball-round instead of beachball-round. I saw some pictures of me on Rozmo's Facebook page, and I cringed. Still with the belly. All the chins.

I'm trying to use those pictures as incentive to get past this dang plateau I've been on for four months. I've gotten away from exercising in the mornings, justifying it by saying since I have to go so early to take care of my mother-in-law that I deserve those 30 minutes to crochet every morning. I need to get back on that program of early-morning cardio, because I fully believe that (for me at least) it jump-starts my metabolism for the whole day. Then if I can ride my bike in the afternoons (until it gets too cold), that exercise will be a bonus.

I just want to lose the rolls.

Moving up on My Best Friends List........

I can't believe I didn't write about this when it happened. I may have, but I can't remember. And if I can't remember, I'm hoping against hope that you can't remember it either. If I did write about it. Which I can't remember.

A couple of weeks ago (which can be anything from yesterday to something that happened in 1979), I was riding my bike through town. I usually stick to back roads and stay away from town, but I kept changing my mind about which way I wanted to ride, and pretty soon the only way home was to go back 40 miles the way I had come or ride through town. Repeating 40 miles is almost never in my game plan.

I got trapped at an intersection by a train. Our town is so small that a passing train can paralyze the entire operation. Since I had to wait for the train, I circled through the parking lot of a convenience store a few times, and I noticed a Pepsi truck. Hubby being retired from Pepsi and all, I still tend to notice their trucks. The driver was loading some drinks onto a handtruck, and I recognized him as one of Hubby's buddies, someone I had met a few times. Having nothing else to do, I rode over to where he was standing and spoke to him. He is a very, very nice man, soft-spoken but friendly, and I've never heard him say a harsh word about anything or anyone. One of the good guys. I have no idea why he and Hubby are friends. Just kidding.

I told him my name, since I thought he might not figure out who I was without Hubby with me. He has one of those million-dollar smiles that light up the entire face.

"I didn't recognize you," he said. "You done lost a BUNCH of weight."

Bless him.

He could just as easily have said any number of other things.

"I didn't recognize you in spandex."

"I didn't recognize you in that goober helmet."

"I didn't recognize you behind those sunglasses."

"I didn't think I knew anyone stupid enough to ride a bicycle through town when traffic is backed up by a train."

But he didn't say any of those things. He commented on my weight loss. Just a casual friend of Hubby's, someone who has met me half a dozen times at most.

He's my new BFF.

Weighty Issues (or I Feel Like a Broken Record)......

This particular blog post related to weight isn't a complaint, and it isn't even a celebration. It's just an observation.

I have lost enough weight that I had to buy new clothes. (In SPITE of Hubby's remark that I should hold on to the old ones, because I might need them again..... Yeah, he's sleeping on the sofa. Wait.... We don't have a sofa. That love seat will probably get mighty uncomfortable.) I got rid of everything that was a size 16, and I bought a bunch of things in a (much?) smaller size.

Oh hell, they're 10's. I don't know how long it's been since I wore a size 10. A long time.

But my brain apparently doesn't lose weight very well. When we went shopping, I had a cart full of shorts, capris, and jeans, all size 10. I tried on Each. And. Every. One. Of. Them. Because when the first one fit, I assumed it was a fluke. Same with the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth ones.

I proudly hung those things in my closet. When I started to get dressed for school today (jeans, and let them fire me if they want to), I was convinced the jeans wouldn't fit. They fit. Hallelujah, they fit. And I can breathe. And I don't have that ugly red welt around my waist..... you know the one I mean.

What is it with (some? many? God I hope I'm not the only one) women who struggle with their self-images? People have commented on my weight loss and called me things like "skinny" (I'm not), even people I don't know well. A woman who used to take line dancing with me stopped me at the "Y" last night and said, "How many?" I was flattered and pleased that she noticed and she took the time to compliment me. But part of my brain still asked, "How did she know?"

The mirror still shows me the (fat) girl I've been seeing for years. My self-perception of what I look like is no different from the picture I had in my mind last summer.

Why can't I wrap my brain around my own triumph? I know I have developed some better habits, and I had to know it would EVENTUALLY pay off. When the Team Lean challenge was going on, I was motivated by the weekly weigh-ins. I was somewhat nervous when the challenge ended, because I was afraid I wouldn't keep pushing myself at the same pace. (Please, someone, please call my therapist NOW.) I was happy to learn that the "Y" is having a Team Lean Maintenance program for the next 12 weeks, with monthly weigh-ins instead of weekly. That's perfect - still makes me accountable, but isn't the burden of being here every Thursday during the (short) summer. The first weigh-in was last night, and I had lost an additional three pounds since the challenge ended three weeks ago. That's a pound a week, in case you are math-deficient.

But I have a hard time accepting it as real. I'm afraid, like the impostor syndrome, that my success is all a sham, and therefore it will go away. I'm going to wake up one morning and have a clothing crisis because I sent all those size 16's to goodwill. Maybe that's the reason I have put the weight back ON at least twice in my lifetime. It's a self-fulfilling this-is-too-good-to-be-true syndrome. (I like making up on own psychological terms as I go along. I'm working to get this one copyrighted too.)

I promise I'll try to write about something other than weight problems for a few days. You're welcome.

Addicted to Exercise.....

Is it possible to be addicted to exercise? Or to a certain activity?

Don't worry. I'm not there. Nowhere near.

I do, however, have what I would consider to be an addictive personality. I'm glad I was smart enough (or poor enough) never to experiment with drugs, because I think I might have been a classic addict.

There's a woman with whom I used to teach, and now she teaches in the same county I do, but I only see her on occasion. Usually graduation. She was drop-dead gorgeous as a beginning teacher, put on some weight as she got older, and then I saw her once and she looked like a refugee from some very poor country. She was painfully thin, not healthy-looking at all. I asked someone about her, and they said she was addicted to running.

I didn't get specifics, so I don't have stories of how many times a day she felt compelled to run, how far she ran before she considered herself finished (Forrest Gump, anyone?), or anything like that. At the time I scoffed at the notion that anyone could be addicted to anything so painful as running. I don't know if she is still addicted to running or if she has toned down her activity to what some would consider reasonable levels.

But couldn't running (and other forms of exercise) be compared to drugs in some ways? They both make you feel good, after all. I suppose you could overdo ANYTHING, even something that is supposed to be good for you, like running. Or cycling. Or ellipticating. (I love that verb. I made it up myself. I'm trying to get it copyrighted.)

I can see it happening. Like I said, I think I have an addictive personality. I tend to become obsessive about things (**ahem**...gymnastics, anyone?) and find it hard to dabble in anything. I jump in with both feet holding a concrete block and not a life preserver in sight. I feel so good after exercising that I can easily picture me saying, "Oh, I ate an extra spoonful of Cool Whip. Fifteen more minutes on the elliptical ought to take care of that." Finally seeing some results in the weight loss department just complicates matters. I find myself thinking I can speed this process up a little if I just increase my exercise. I already work out TWICE a day on most days, and it could easily become an obsession to exercise.

I am thiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssssssssssssss clossssssssssssssssssssssse to the thirty pound mark (weight lost since August).

Don't worry, as long as Hubby is around (and still retired), I'm not likely to get away with becoming addicted to exercise. Besides, I'd have to give up some of the time I spend watching videos of gymnastics championships from the 80's and 90's.

Team Lean Final Results......

Last Thursday was our final weigh-in for Team Lean.

Oh, the irony. I lost .8 pounds, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I said, "Thank you, God." Remember my first week on Team Lean, when I went into a rant because I ONLY lost .8 pounds?

I lost 9 pounds over the 12-week challenge, which I guess isn't too bad, and I had already lost about 14 pounds on my own before it started. It's less than I WANTED to lose, but at least I made some progress. I only lost half an inch in my waist, and I lost two inches in my hips. Oh good. Now I have even less of a butt than I already did.

I would like to lose another 20 pounds, and I realize it may take the rest of this year to do that. But I think I've formed some good habits as far as exercise and eating, if I can just stay committed to it. I'm afraid that without the pressure of a weekly weigh-in, I may lose some of my momentum. I'm going to check at the "Y" and see if they still have personal trainers. Hubby even said he would be willing to work with one as well. The daughter of my hairdresser is also a former student of mine, and she has lost 68 pounds working with a personal trainer. I don't need a drill sergeant, but I would like someone to show me some weight training tips and keep me focused.

I have a feeling he or she is going to disagree with me regarding the correct portion of Cool-Whip.

#40 and #43.........

I didn't set out for this to be a weekend of cramming in as many of my 50 Things to Do as possible. It just worked out that way.

It was kind of cheating to put #40 on the list in the first place. I knew I was going to attend a regional gymnastics championship meet because UGA was hosting one this year. I had been to nationals (twice) and the SECs (four times), and I ALMOST went to regionals last year. I was going to fly to Missouri on Saturday morning, go to the meet, spend the night, and fly back Sunday. I was going to do all this alone, mind you, because Hubby was out of town. The only reason I didn't go was that it was also the weekend of the Masters golf tournament, and I would have missed both Saturday and Sunday coverage. Instead I did a bike ride, watched the P-A-I-N-F-U-L meet on the computer (glad I didn't pay all that money to go out there and see them lose in person), and got to see the Masters too.

Anyway, #40 was already planned for, but because I hadn't done it before, it qualified for my list of 50 Things to Do. And I was already running out of ideas when I got to #40.

There was a tailgate before the meet, and then Katydid, Frogger Blogger and I walked down to the UGA bookstore. That's always a dangerous move, but I managed to control myself this time, mostly in consideration of #31.

The results of the meet were much more satisfying this year, even though we still had some disappointments. This team hasn't performed up to its potential much this year. We seem to put together three great events, and we have one disastrous one. This time our disastrous event was our first one, balance beam, and even though we came back with a vengeance, the damage was done. UCLA won the meet handily, but we came in second, and so we qualified for the national championships in two weeks. No, I'm not going. I haven't lost anything in Cleveland, and besides there's a 3-day bicycle ride that weekend.

#43 was a complete and total surprise. I got out the Wii Fit balance board because I intended to video the Wii bitch saying, "That's obese." I wanted to save it for the point when I've lost enough weight that I'm not obese anymore, just overweight.

Imagine my surprise when she did NOT say "obese," but she said "That's overweight." I have never been so happy in my life to be told I'm overweight.

Side note: I didn't need the Wii to tell me I'm slightly off-center.

I'm Not Complaining, Really.....

This is going to sound like a complaint, or like I'm HOPING someone will say, "Oh, shut up already!"

But I promise that's not the case.

While my weight loss hasn't been as FAST (immediate? please?) as I would like, it has been steady for the most part. In our Team Lean competition, I have lost 7 pounds in 7 weeks. While I would like to lose TWO pounds per week, I realize that with almost-50-year-old metabolism, that ain't gonna happen. Apparently.

I've lost around 22 pounds since the school year began, and I'm just now entering that phase where clothes that used to be really tight are becoming too loose to wear. That includes some of my favorite slacks.

Like most women, I have a range of sizes in my closet. I would go through phases where I refused to buy anything larger than a certain size, even if I could only breathe in short bursts throughout the day and I had a red welt around my "waist" at the end of the day. Then I would go through a period of, "Oh hell, I'm never going to be any thinner, who am I kidding?" and buy the next size up. And sometimes THOSE got too tight, and I blamed it on the clothing manufacturers. Because it clearly had nothing to do with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

I've worn a couple of pairs of slacks from the larger size this past week, and they are getting to the point of looking ludicrous on me. They aren't belted, so I just have to hope that I don't sneeze or cough while standing up, or that the school doesn't catch on fire, because any sudden movement might mean my slacks are suddenly pooled around my ankles.

I know, I know. Terrible problem to have.

But some of these are my FAVORITES. (I'm guessing they are my favorites because I finally bought the right size and they were the ones that didn't make me almost hyperventilate.) One of them is a pair of Ralph Lauren slacks with flared legs that I can wear with almost anything. They are my go-to slacks of choice for funerals and classroom observations. Those two things have a lot in common when it comes to how I feel about them. Another is a pair of black-and-white slacks that I can pair with a black tank and sweater set if I'm feeling more serious, or a white blouse if I've A) ironed it; and B) not brought a salad with Catalina dressing for lunch that day.

I realize I can have them altered, but I'm wondering at what point I should have them done. Now? I'm still about 20 pounds away from my goal weight (although the BMI charts say I will STILL be overweight). If I wait until then to get my favorites altered, what do I wear in the meantime? I don't want to go out and buy ALL new clothes, especially when I will only need my "teacher" clothes for another year. (Have I just told on myself? Does anyone else out there wear something for four or five years, particularly when you've paid $80 for it? Hello? Tap...tap.... **Crickets**)

I guess, since we're about to change seasons and wardrobes, that this problem is something I really don't have to worry about for a few months. Once warm weather arrives I wear mostly capris and knee-length shorts to school anyway, so the slacks will go in the back of the closet until fall. Which doesn't really begin here until November.

It's just like me to devote an entire blog post to something I don't have to worry about for another eight months. At least it takes my mind off this afternoon's gymnastics meet, senior day for our two seniors. (Sniff, sniff)

More Weighty Issues......

Don't worry, I'm not going on about my own personal battle with weight all my life, nor am I going to recant recent tribulations (and triumphs) associated with that battle.

During our walk in the park today, though, I thought about two very different stories associated with weight and how it affects people differently.

I taught on a 9th grade team with two other girls, one of whom fought her weight constantly, as did I. We commiserated, we walked together, we weighed each other, and it seemed that was all we talked about. Our other team member was a girl who taught science, and she was a tiny thing. She was about the same height as Teri and me, 5'2", but she was rail thin. You know how some women gain weight when they get pregnant and never seem to lose it? (You can put your hands down now.) Not Kim. Even after two children, she still looked like a kid herself.

As if teaching high school and raising two children (who were very close in age) weren't enough stress on her, Kim's husband decided to enter medical school. Approximately a thousand miles away. (I don't know how much stress that caused HIM, since he wound up hooking up with a floosie he met in med school, but that's none of my business. I guess.) So then Kim was a SINGLE parent for all practical purposes, and her stress level skyrocketed.

I know that stress causes some people to stop eating, or not to eat as they should. I have no personal knowledge of this, since I have never, ever been too tired/rested, sad/happy, stressed/relaxed, cold/hot, manic/depressed, nervous/calm, angry/pleased to EAT. When I was a senior in high school and we suspected I may have mono, the doctor asked about my appetite. "Don't you worry about her appetite," my mother told him, "what's wrong with her?"

Kim's stress caused her to continue to lose weight, though, and one morning she came into Teri's classroom with tears in her eyes. She had stepped on the scale that morning (she probably avoided it as much as I did), and she weighed 88 pounds.

I'm not kidding, 88 pounds. A grown woman with two children.

Teri immediately started railing at Kim, telling her she wished she had HER problems, and she didn't want to hear it, and a lot more things that only someone as insensitive as Teri was could come up with. I finally stopped her and said, "Kim's weight problems are just as real as yours and mine, and you need to hush." I would have told her to shut her damn fat mouth (emphasis on mouth, not on fat, since I really didn't have room to throw rocks myself), but we had to teach together.

Another time I saw some eye-opening dynamics associated with weight was when I was a Weight Watchers leader. A mother and daughter came in together, and they were faithful about attending every week. The girl was home schooled, so she didn't have the problem of staying on the program while she was at school. Neither of them was extremely overweight, but I guess the mother didn't want her daughter to develop a problem in her teens that would be hard to deal with in adulthood.

The mother lost weight faster than her daughter, and pretty soon she was at her goal weight. Then she was at the bottom end of her goal weight range. And she kept losing. Then she was 5 pounds below the bottom of her goal weight range, and the Weight Watchers instructors' manual said I couldn't continue to weigh her. When she came in the next week, I told her she was below a healthy weight and I was no longer allowed to weigh her. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "But what do I do? If I eat, she eats."

I didn't know what to tell her. They didn't cover the psychology of family dynamics as it relates to weight loss in moms and their teen daughters in the 8-hour blitz course I took to become a WW leader. Pretty soon they stopped coming altogether, and I have wondered what ever became of them, particularly the daughter. She probably has daughters of her own now.

I don't know where I'm going with this topic. I think the whole food issue is a major design flaw in our make-up. Why do we have to LIKE food? Why can't we get JUST ENOUGH to survive? I mean, we don't suffer from an excess of AIR, do we? We breathe just enough to get by, maybe a little more in high-pressure situations or during heavy exercise, but breathing in extra air doesn't affect our health or our looks. I have often said that if I could quit eating the same way I quit smoking - cold turkey - then I wouldn't have a weight problem. Knowing the difference between just enough to keep living and too much is the problem. I have an "all or nothing" mentality.

Which may just explain why I opened four boxes of Girl Scout cookies today and put them on the table in the center of my room and told students to help themselves. I knew I could have just one Samoa and not do any damage with its 70 calories. It was the other 14 cookies in the box that would have done me in.

Other Than Those Gazillion Things, I'm Fairly Rational......

I'm sorry, but today was "weigh day" for Team Lean, so this is going to be yet another weight-related post. Don't worry, though, this time I'm NOT whining.

Mostly I'm wondering.

Through the weeks we've been doing this Team Lean thing, I've figured out in my head how far off my scale is from the one they use at the "Y" when we weigh in. I also weigh myself first thing in the morning, without (many) clothes, and I weigh on Thursdays in the afternoon. I also wear (more) clothes, since nudity at the "Y" is generally frowned upon. Buttheads.

I was nervous driving to the weigh-in today, because my scale this morning was about where it was last Thursday. I suspected I would be at about the same weight on THEIR scale as I was last week, or perhaps even up a tad. We have to pay a dollar for each pound gained, and I didn't want the size-zero girl (whose name turns out to be Kelly, not Size-Zero Girl, after all) to tell me I had to pay money. Even if it were only a dollar, it would be a moral defeat, and I was trying to coach myself up on the drive to the "Y." I was telling myself all about how weight fluctuations are to be expected, I can't expect to lose 2 pounds each and every week, blah blah blah blah blah blah. I also told myself that the number on the scale is NOT the most important thing in the world, that my clothes are fitting better (or too big - as is the case with my FAVORITE pair of black Ralph Lauren slacks, which will soon be history because I won't be able to keep them up), and that my eating and exercise habits are part of an overall healthier lifestyle. I KNOW ALL THAT, and yet stepping on that scale is probably the most stressful part of my week.

Well, that and watching Christa Tanella miss the low bar on her mount - HER MOUNT, PEOPLE - and almost go sailing between the parallel bars.

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

I wore my work-out clothes to the weigh-in. Not that I was planning to work out (not right then anyway), but those clothes weigh less than the clothes I wore to school.

PEOPLE, I CHANGED CLOTHES TO DRIVE SOMEWHERE AND STEP ON A SCALE!!!! What is WRONG with me?

When I got out of the car, I debated whether to take some dollar bills in with me. I didn't want to create negative karma by taking them, but I also didn't want to hike slink back to the car in humiliation while Size-Zero Girl (oh yeah, it's Kelly) waited for me.

I stepped on the scale, the numbers jumped around a minute, and when they had settled, I had lost 1.2 pounds for the week. Not only that, but I entered a whole new set of numbers.

And my whole mood changed. My face brightened, I felt good, my smile got broader, and I felt like a success.

All because of 1.2 pounds. That's only .4 more than the .8 I was absolutely BITCHING about just two weeks ago. It's roughly 6.4 ounces. But the difference in how it made me feel is immeasurable.

When I came home, I insisted that Hubby and I go walk in the park. Our typical route is somewhere around 3-3.5 miles. Then after dinner I went to zumba.

All because of 1.2 pounds. Further proof that educated doesn't necessarily mean smart.

Forgot to Post the GOOD News.....

After whining shamelessly a week and a half ago, lamenting the fact that I only lost eight tenths of a pound in a week, I can't believe I forgot to post the better results after last Thursday's weigh-in.

I lost 2 pounds in a week. Not as much as I would like, but better than eight tenths. And in realize in my BRAIN that 1-2 pounds per week is a healthy rate at which to lose weight. It's my HEART that wants to take off 5-6 every week.

One of my team members lost 1.2, and the other lost 3.

I weigh every day, but I'm definitely not a slave to the scale. I realize that weight fluctuations are bound to occur, and I don't get down in the dumps (much) if there are bumps in the road.

When I'm in a "competition" of sorts, though, I don't want to let my team members down. I arrived at the "Y" right behind one of my teammates last Thursday, and when we were in line to weigh, she handed me her WATCH to hold, for crying out loud. When I took off my heavy sweater (HEY, I had on a tank top underneath), my necklace came off with it. She offered to hold the necklace for me. I said, "No, I think I have to draw the line somewhere."

Back when I was a Weight Watchers leader (sigh), some of my members would look kind of sheepish when they removed their jewelry. I would always say to them, "Hey, a truck load of those rings would weigh SOMETHING, so by all means take them off if you want to."

When I was approaching my goal weight (I lost 50 pounds back then), naturally the weight didn't come off as quickly as it had at the beginning. And it was November, so the weather had changed. I was accustomed to going to my weekly weigh-in wearing bicycle shorts and a t-shirt. When it got cold, though, I had to wear more clothes. Imagine the look on the face of the (male) substitute leader when I approached the scale and started removing my jeans. I had on bicycle shorts underneath, but he had no way of knowing that. I wasn't about to wear those jeans on the scale.

I have no idea how those 50 pounds found their way back onto my body. And some of them brought their friends. But I'm working on it again.

I really didn't intend for this to become a "weight" post.

Dear Fat Gods.......

Those would be the Gods of Fat, not corpulent deities.

Seriously?

SERIOUSLY?

Aren't you taking this middle-aged metabolism thing just a wee bit too far?

For the last week I have done everything almost perfectly. I have not had one bite of chocolate, nor have I had a beer. I had ONE glass of wine on a night when I couldn't sleep. But other than that I didn't cheat. And even that's not really cheating, is it? Aren't I allowed ONE STINKIN' GLASS OF WINE?

I worked out every day....except Tuesday. But on Saturday I ran/walked in a 5K AND THEN came home and rode my bicycle 29 miles. Shouldn't that counteract the not working out on Tuesday?

I mixed up my exercise. I ran, I walked, I bicycled, I did water aerobics, I did the elliptical. Doing water aerobics caused me to break out in a horrible rash ON ALL MY TENDER PARTS (you're welcome for the visual on THAT one - does anyone out there realize how hard it is to scratch one's NIPPLES? Sorry......) because I'm allergic to chlorine and our podunk YMCA didn't think about .... oh perhaps using a salt system .... when they installed their fancy schmancy new indoor pool. Don't I get bonus points for my pain and suffering? And itching and scratching?

I ate rabbit food all last week. To give myself a treat I sometimes put chicken on it. And I used FAT-FREE DRESSING! Which I abhor! We had a baby shower after school today. You want to know my contribution? A veggie tray.

VEGGIE TRAY!

"Dessert" these days isn't the no-sugar-added low-fat ice cream sandwich that I used to enjoy. Oh no, that would be way too decadent. Now my after-dinner treat is a banana popsicle. I guess I'll have to give up those FORTY CALORIES too.

Because with all my hard work and my diligent attention to what I ate and drank, my reward when I went for my weekly weigh-in last night was:

.8

That's a decimal. And an eight.

Eight tenths of a pound.

Twelve ounces and some change.

Really?

If that's to be the rate of my weight loss, I will reach my goal weight sometime around my ninetieth birthday. Why not just die fat at an earlier age? It's really all the same to me.

To make matters worse, did they HAVE to assign a size-zero little twit to do the weigh-ins? Yeah, did they train her to say quite chirpily, "Well it's better than nothing! You lost half a pound!"?

IT'S EIGHT TENTHS OF A POUND, BONEYARD, AND I WANT CREDIT FOR EVERY SINGLE TENTH!!!!

Her advice? Try the exercise of the week: push-ups. Instead I tried MY exercise of the week: a right hook.

Her other tip: Try not drinking sweet tea and sodas next week.

My tip? Try asking me first if I do EITHER OF THOSE THINGS TO START WITH.

Eight tenths of a pound.

Good grief.

Willing to make a deal with the devil for a higher metabolic rate,

Bragger

Status Update.........

I'm trying desperately NOT to chase away any of my readers with frequent updates about my attempt to lose weight.

It's slow, but it's still happening.

As of this morning, I have lost 20 pounds. I would LIKE to lose another 30, but I will settle for an additional 20. I'm not sure 30 more is feasible at my age.

I think I'm having more success this time around because I am NOT following a program. I'm not counting points, calories, fat grams, or carbs. I am simply trying to practice portion control and cut down on junk.

I am still off chocolate and beer for the most part, and honestly I don't miss either one. I'm also determined not to be one of those people who sits around and moans about what she can't have. Occasionally (VERY occasionally) I will have a beer, and I don't beat myself up about it. I approach it kind of like I did when I quit smoking. If I had said at the beginning, "I'm never going to have another cigarette in my life," I think it would have been overwhelming. So when I first quit, I said, "I'm not going to have another cigarette today." Then the next morning I said, "I won't have a cigarette until I get out of school." By the time 24 hours had passed without a cigarette, I felt like I had it licked. It's the same way with some of the foods I crave. I don't kid myself and say I will never eat another piece of chocolate. I just say, "No, I don't need those calories today. Maybe tomorrow when I've had a chance to exercise." And the craving passes. Most of the time.

When we were in Jamaica I had a few (okay, more than a few) mixed drinks. It was an all-inclusive resort, after all, and I didn't want to feel like I had wasted my money. We didn't go crazy at meal times either.

One of the things that has helped me the most is a line that I heard about a year ago, and I made fun of it on my blog when I read it. Someone said, "Don't eat until you're full. Eat until you're not hungry anymore." I think I said something along the lines of, "If I could do THAT I wouldn't HAVE this little problem." But I keep that thought in the back of my mind. First of all I have to get rid of the "eat until it's gone" syndrome. I have a tendency to eat everything that's on my plate (and then some). I asked my mother once if she had made us clean our plates when we were little (because ultimately don't we blame EVERYTHING on our mothers?). She laughed and said, "From the time you could sit up I had to PUSH you away from the table." I distinctly remember going around the table and eating scraps off family members' plates after they had finished. I wasn't hungry; I just didn't think anything should be left. My eldest brother called me the "human garbage disposal." That could also be why his last words to me were, "See ya, Fats." (I was eleven.)

I'm glad I started this weight-loss campaign back in the fall. I hate it at this time of year when it seems that everyone decides to lose weight, and the motivation doesn't last. So far (**knock on wood**) my new eating habits feel like just that -- habits -- and I don't have to work very hard at it. (Please, Karma, don't kick me in the teeth just because I said that.) I don't have to make a New Year's Resolution to try to lose weight and exercise; I just have to continue what I've been doing already.

Rereading this, it sounds to me as if I'm tooting my own horn, and I assure you that's not the case. If I write occasional blog posts about my efforts, that makes me more determined to stick with it. I don't want to have to write in a few months, "I gained all 20 pounds back, and then some." I hope to have the nerve to post some before-and-after pictures when I get to my preferred weight.

I have to remind myself periodically (like every day) that slow weight loss is better in the long run than quick weight loss. Still, it's frustrating to see the scale stay in the same place day after day. I did get into a new number set on Christmas morning though. That was the best present Santa could have brought me! I stepped off and on the scale three times to make sure it wasn't a fluke. That means I actually LOST weight on our trip to Jamaica. I'm sure it had something to do with the almost-six-mile bike ride.

I'm going into cycling withdrawal too. My exercise in general hasn't been what it should be lately, due to the extremely cold temperatures and the fact that my elliptical is sick. (Yes, I do have a membership to the YMCA, but I haven't been since our line dance teacher left. Maybe THAT needs to be on my New Year's Resolution list.) But I'm missing cycling most of all. I walked past my (brand new) bicycle today in the basement, and I patted the seat lovingly. I can't wait to get back out there and ride. I just don't do cold.

Another status update: I am making progress on my list of 50 new things to do next year, when I will turn 50. I am up to 31, and I have only cheated a couple of times, putting things on my list that I knew I was going to do anyway (like the cross-state kayak trip). I am still taking suggestions for additions to my list.

I would also love to hear any of your successes and suggestions related to eating/nutrition/weight loss.

Thanks for stopping by. You are the best!

Status Update.....

Lest all three of you think I've given up on my quest to lose weight and become more physically fit, I thought I would update you on the situation.

As of this morning, I have lost 15 pounds. That seems like a depressingly small number when I think back to the time when I first joined Weight Watchers. I lost almost 15 pounds in the first two weeks alone.

Then I remember that when I first joined Weight Watchers, I was just 32 years old instead of pushing 50.

I have stuck to my eating plan for the most part, but I have stopped logging in to the WW website (and paying them money every month for the privilege of entering the weight that I see on MY SCALE every Monday). I don't eat chocolate after lunch every day, and I don't miss it. Much.

I very rarely drink beer anymore, and I don't miss it. Much.

I'm trying to remind myself that losing weight is best done slowly, because the likelihood is greater that the weight will actually STAY off. I'm also trying to celebrate the small successes.

Today I wore these slacks to school.

They are very casual slacks, sort of like carpenter's pants with the pockets on the side. But they most assuredly CANNOT BE carpenter's pants because they are made by Ralph Lauren. They have little gold studs or brads on them, and they SNAP instead of button.

They snap.

That's why I haven't worn them in two years. I couldn't snap them. The last time I forced myself to wear these pants, I could just barely snap them, and I spent about sixteen hours out of my work day SNAPPING THEM OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I thought I had put these pants in the goodwill pile, because I fully intended to get rid of them. I didn't think I would ever be able to wear them again.

Today the only time I had to snap them was when I went to the bathroom.

TMI? Sorry.

I also wore this blouse today.

The make-up stain wasn't there when I wore it, though. I got that on there pulling it off over my head. Carefully, so as not to get make-up on it. It was also nicely ironed when I wore it, but apparently I curled up into a ball under my desk at some point during the day and got it all wrinkled.

The last time I wore this blouse my belly made it stick out and it looked like a maternity top. It didn't help matters that the fabric has a little stretch to it. Stretch it did.......alllllllllllllllllllll the way out there.

Today it actually hung like I think it was supposed to.

I'd like to lose 35 more pounds, but I'll settle for 25.

I've still got a long way to go. But any progress is good progress.

I may even find a whole new wardrobe in the back of my closet.

Status Update.....

As of this past Monday, I have lost 12 pounds. Contrary to what I feared after the bike ride on Sunday and the gazillion ounces of fluid I drank, I had a nice loss from the week before. Now I'm afraid THAT was false, and that next Monday I will be up because this past Monday I really wasn't down that much.

Does that make sense? If it does, you need to stop reading right now and check yourself into a facility of some sort. Or a bar.

My clothes are feeling looser. Some of them are downright too big for me, which is unfortunate because I spent a bazillion dollars on new clothes at the beginning of the school year. Shorts that previously left red welts on what should be my waistline are now comfortable. I'm able to button some things without a struggle that I used to have to suck in and hold my breath.

I can wear my large t-shirts now instead of having to wear the extra-large. I think that 12 pounds was all in the belly.

I'm having some exercise issues right now, and that worries me. I should be kicking my activity UP a notch, not letting it slide. But the elliptical needs to be repaired, and we cannot realistically take it in until we get finished with all these renovations. I enjoy walking in the park, but on days like today, when I had to go to the doctor's office after school and then teach online, sometimes I can't squeeze it in. I could have gone to the "Y" this morning and worked out on the elliptical (they really need a verb for that....ellipticate?), but instead I curled up in the fetal position in my recliner.

I haven't had chocolate in 4 weeks now, nor have I had a beer. I have had a couple of bloody marys because (theoretically) they don't have as many calories. I do not feel deprived not eating chocolate when almost everyone else at the lunch table indulges every day, nor do I obsess about it. If I want it, I can have it. I just don't want to sacrifice those points. (I'm using the Weight Watchers online program.)

My ultimate goal is to lose enough weight to get off the CPAP machine before next June. Rozmo and I want to participate in Paddle Georgia, a kayaking trip across the state very much like BRAG, and we will be sleeping in tents. I don't want to haul that damn machine along with me.

Why is it, though, that if I GAIN 13 pounds between doctor's visits they usually have plenty to say, but if I LOSE 13 pounds they say nothing?

Status Update......

And I don't mean Facebook.

After my whining post about how I looked in some pictures VT sent me in the mail of my huge belly hanging over the top of my bicycle, I joined Weight Watchers online and have been following it diligently for a little over a week.

As of this morning I have lost exactly 5 pounds. The pessimistic side of me wants to say, "Thirty-five more to go," but the Pollyanna side (who doesn't rear her head nearly often enough) wants to say, "Way to go! That's 5 fewer pounds than you were hauling around ten days ago." WW only recommends losing 1.5-2 pounds per week anyway, so losing slowly is the correct way to do things. It just doesn't work for my impatience.

It's hard in that it takes careful planning and forethought, but it's easy in that the program is really flexible. If I wanted to have a piece of chocolate after lunch every day, I could. The problem is that I can rarely stop at one piece. Or even two or three. So I don't eat any, and I don't feel deprived at all. Well maybe not much.

Cyclists (the gung-ho ones) talk in GRAMS about the stuff they carry on their bikes. I figure I can afford a lot of gadgets on my new bike if I lose 18160 grams of fat.

Finally Seeing Some Results.........

When I decided to get serious and drop some of this excess weight I've been carrying around, I was adamant that this NOT become another weight-loss blog. There are some wonderful ones out there, and they are very inspirational. This one, for example. I am in awe of the fact that this woman lost over 100 pounds. She hasn't posted since she reached her goal, however, and I am curious to see how she's maintaining it. Sometimes that's harder than losing it in the first place.

Initially I started another blog, and my intention was to chronicle my weight loss journey there by blogging every day about what I ate, the exercise I did that day, my attitude, obstacles, etc. That lasted all of one day. And then I "hid" the blog. It's still there, but I didn't want to become that person who thinks of NOTHING every day but food, weight, and how to have some of one without a ton of the other. Pun intended.

Sixteen years ago, I was at what was THEN my heaviest. I joined Weight Watchers, and I lost 50 pounds. I still think their goal weight was unrealistic, but by George I reached it. I became a Weight Watchers leader, and I kept the weight off for a few years. But when I was striving to reach my goal, I was obsessive. All I thought about, cared about, talked about was how many "points" I had eaten on any given day and how many fractions of a pound I might lose. When I neared my goal, the weather was changing into fall. I had grown accustomed to wearing bicycle shorts and a t-shirt to my weekly weigh-in, but then it got too cold to do that. One week I wore jeans, but I wore bicycle shorts underneath, and when it came time to weigh in, I stripped those bad boys off right there in front of God and everybody. And we were in a church, so that's not really sacrilegious.

When I first joined WW, I lost something like 12 pounds just in the first two weeks. But that was sixteen years ago. Now I'm sixteen years older, in case you are struggling with that math.

Every time in recent memory that I've decided to get serious and lose some weight, I have become discouraged immediately by the lack of results. I'll stick with it for a week or two (or three) and then throw up my hands and say "To hell with it!" because the scale simply isn't budging.

For some reason, this time has been a little different. When I went to the doctor right before school started, I saw a scary number on the scale that I hadn't seen since right before I went into labor. I got serious (again), and once again I became discouraged when I didn't see results right away.

But I stuck with it, and now, six weeks later, I am finally seeing some results. I have lost about 12 pounds since school started, and the sacrifices aren't feeling like sacrifices anymore. I have continued to exercise every day, not only with the goal of losing weight, but also for the mental therapy it provides. I'm also trying not to be obsessive about it, which is why I won't write another blog post about eating, exercising, losing weight, etc. for a good long while. I am allowing myself the freedom to miss exercise if it just doesn't happen on any given day. I will allow myself a piece of chocolate at lunch if I think it will keep me from killing a student during fourth or fifth period.

I have sworn off alcohol, and I don't miss it. Much. Contrary to popular belief, it IS possible to have fun and be happy without an occasional beer. Or margarita. I don't promise that I will never have another beer or drink, however.

Part of my problem in the past has been that all-or-nothing attitude. If I ever missed a day of exercise, or if I succumbed and had a small piece of chocolate, or if I went out to eat and splurged, I gave up because I had "blown it." I had a bad habit of doing that even when I was a WW leader and telling other people not to do that.

Hubby has been mostly supportive. I used to try to avoid eating "diet" food in front of him, and I don't know why. I realized long ago that the only thing he really cares about is that HE gets to eat. And since he was diagnosed with diabetes, he's better off eating my kind of food anyway. Last week, when I was very ill-tempered (not at him), he didn't even notice when I put his dinner in front of him and didn't eat anything myself. [It's VERY rare that I'm that ill-tempered. It usually has the opposite effect.] It's funny, though, the things that men do. We have been in the habit for a couple of years of having a sugar-free ice cream bar after dinner every night. Then we started sharing one, and we take turns going to get the ice cream and cutting it in half.

When I started on this latest effort to lose weight, I began to cut his half waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay larger than mine [yes, I realize that makes it not a half -- college calculus be damned, I do have SOME math smarts]. But when he goes to get the ice cream, he refuses to cut my half smaller. He still makes the pieces equal, even though I have asked him not to. Some WW people would consider that a form of sabotage, but I think he just can't bring himself to cut it unfairly. A thought just occurred to me -- maybe he's trying to trick me into ALWAYS being the one to go get the ice cream. Damn, I'm slow.

At any rate, the little bit of positive results that I've seen so far have been a huge boost to my psyche. They took their sweet time getting here, but maybe now that I've started losing, I can keep it up. Down. Whatever.

We now return to our regularly scheduled sarcasm-laden blog.