I am going on a deliberate break from being "good" - whatever the F that means - until 7/11 after my anniversary.
Here's what that means:
I Will continue to do my best to eat within my points, watch my portions and get in as much activity as I can
I Will Not sweat it. If I don't keep track too well or if I get too carby or whatever - it is is what it is.
BUT. Come 7/11 I expect that you will make sure I get it back together and get myself back on track.
I am in the onederland NOW - I plan to stay here. My short term goal is to get to 190 by Labor Day. I know you will help to cheer me on and keep me accountable.
And during this week of independence ;) I will try to post of the ups and downs to keep you in the loop - in the true spirit of Inside Heathers Fat.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Workout Images
Didn't make it for the whole first mile but did manage to maintain a pretty good jog for most of the 30 minutes. 
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The F Word
I'm not sure if I've ever really addressed this, but since it's come up a couple of times this weekend in various forms I thought it might be a good time to write about it.
The F word. Yes, the one that's really considered dirty -- fat.
At book club on Friday night, one of the ladies asked me why I call my blog Inside Heather's Fat instead of something "more positive" (I'm paraphrasing) like Heather's Getting Fit or something. The truest answer overall is because of my original blog, which was titled Inside Heather's Head. I was just trying to spin off of that.
But that's not really all there is to it. The word fat and fatness in general means something in our society. You don't just throw the word out there, anymore than you would a racial epithet. Or would you? Because in fact we do. We call ourselves fat, we call other people fat and if we don't say the word we certainly all but imply it.
Prior to my first serious attempt at Weight Watchers (see the history of this fat), I had a co-worker as me if I were pregnant. But the best part was when I said no, she asked me if I was sure. Like I would be THAT pregnant and not know it? I had to gently explain that no, I was just fat. As hard as that was, it wasn't even the first time in my adult life someone had asked me if I was pregnant, so at least I had lived through the experience once before.
But this Saturday, the young check-out girl at the Harris Teeter just put it all on the table. She asked me if I thought I was fat.
I am not making this up. She was very young and luckily I also have a hearing problem, so I didn't understand what she said at first. Which actually made the situation a bit worse. What happened was that we were bringing our stuff to check out. Scott had to go get something so it was just me and Teenie Bop. She starts going on and on about how great I look in the color I have on. She says that her mom is about my size and then she holds her hands kind of far about in a fat but curvy kind of way. NOT flattering. Then she starts s l o w l y checking out my purchases and still going on and on with what I think she truly believes is flattery. She's trying to explain how she thinks her mom would look great and the fact that I'm basically this fat person (she has not dropped the f*bomb yet, but it's coming) and willing to be out in public putting it out there is proof. (I had on an orange v-neck shirt and a pair of white shorts, this is not ground-breaking fat fashion here.) She then asks me if I think I'm fat? I can't hear what she says. She is getting embarrassed and doesn't want to repeat what she says. She's giggling and saying "oh, this is too personal." But then eventually asks me the question again. Well, I still can't quite hear it and give up and just say yes to whatever she's asking.
That's when I realized, based on whatever she's babbling about now that she asked me if I think I'm fat and I answered yes.
I really would have been more mortified if I didn't have the moral superiority that poor dingbat would be a cashier for the rest of her life.
It didn't cause me to spiral into depression. But it certainly made me think about the F word a lot. The usage of it and especially the usage of it as it applies to me. And that's the real reason behind why I keep the Fat in my blog title. I know who I am and I know where I came from. I could get down to the bottom of my target weight range but I will always be a fat girl. Because I have to know that. I have to know that it's possible for me to go back to the same mental traps that got me to be a fat girl on the outside. Because if I deny that part of myself, then it's just as easy to go back. It's no different than alcoholism -- I can't forget that I have problem ever. Every day, every step is a choice to go in a different direction.
But at the end of the day, in the ironic spirit of my nod to AA -- my name is Heather and I am a fat girl.
hugs,
Heather
The F word. Yes, the one that's really considered dirty -- fat.
At book club on Friday night, one of the ladies asked me why I call my blog Inside Heather's Fat instead of something "more positive" (I'm paraphrasing) like Heather's Getting Fit or something. The truest answer overall is because of my original blog, which was titled Inside Heather's Head. I was just trying to spin off of that.
But that's not really all there is to it. The word fat and fatness in general means something in our society. You don't just throw the word out there, anymore than you would a racial epithet. Or would you? Because in fact we do. We call ourselves fat, we call other people fat and if we don't say the word we certainly all but imply it.
Prior to my first serious attempt at Weight Watchers (see the history of this fat), I had a co-worker as me if I were pregnant. But the best part was when I said no, she asked me if I was sure. Like I would be THAT pregnant and not know it? I had to gently explain that no, I was just fat. As hard as that was, it wasn't even the first time in my adult life someone had asked me if I was pregnant, so at least I had lived through the experience once before.
But this Saturday, the young check-out girl at the Harris Teeter just put it all on the table. She asked me if I thought I was fat.
I am not making this up. She was very young and luckily I also have a hearing problem, so I didn't understand what she said at first. Which actually made the situation a bit worse. What happened was that we were bringing our stuff to check out. Scott had to go get something so it was just me and Teenie Bop. She starts going on and on about how great I look in the color I have on. She says that her mom is about my size and then she holds her hands kind of far about in a fat but curvy kind of way. NOT flattering. Then she starts s l o w l y checking out my purchases and still going on and on with what I think she truly believes is flattery. She's trying to explain how she thinks her mom would look great and the fact that I'm basically this fat person (she has not dropped the f*bomb yet, but it's coming) and willing to be out in public putting it out there is proof. (I had on an orange v-neck shirt and a pair of white shorts, this is not ground-breaking fat fashion here.) She then asks me if I think I'm fat? I can't hear what she says. She is getting embarrassed and doesn't want to repeat what she says. She's giggling and saying "oh, this is too personal." But then eventually asks me the question again. Well, I still can't quite hear it and give up and just say yes to whatever she's asking.
That's when I realized, based on whatever she's babbling about now that she asked me if I think I'm fat and I answered yes.
I really would have been more mortified if I didn't have the moral superiority that poor dingbat would be a cashier for the rest of her life.
It didn't cause me to spiral into depression. But it certainly made me think about the F word a lot. The usage of it and especially the usage of it as it applies to me. And that's the real reason behind why I keep the Fat in my blog title. I know who I am and I know where I came from. I could get down to the bottom of my target weight range but I will always be a fat girl. Because I have to know that. I have to know that it's possible for me to go back to the same mental traps that got me to be a fat girl on the outside. Because if I deny that part of myself, then it's just as easy to go back. It's no different than alcoholism -- I can't forget that I have problem ever. Every day, every step is a choice to go in a different direction.
But at the end of the day, in the ironic spirit of my nod to AA -- my name is Heather and I am a fat girl.
hugs,
Heather
Thursday, June 21, 2012
You should earn activity points for laughing
I got this sudden burst of energy and got inspired by my BFAW and decided to do a step routine while watching tv. Pulled out and literally dusted off the permanently borrowed from the Jones' Wii stepper and did a little routine. Hilarious and glad there's no hidden camera in my house. (Wait there isn't us there??) I also throw in some squats and push-ups.
Maybe next time I'll throw in some burpees for old times sake. I never thought I'd get nostalgic for crossfit.
Anyways I was doing some pushups and Scott walked in and I jumped and up and said... AND 100!
This is my way of giving a shout-out to all of my active friends who inspire me. Thank you! And another thank you for all of the people who tell me they read my blog. I'm vain enough to admit how much it means to me that you are reading my little bs slice of the WWW and that you appreciate "the show." I love it when you tell me your stories and listen to you tell me mine. I love that you don't even know that you are one of my inspirations.
I don't know how to stop getting even cornier, so I will close with my all time favorite quote which I have probably used here before:
love and hugs,
Heather
Maybe next time I'll throw in some burpees for old times sake. I never thought I'd get nostalgic for crossfit.
Anyways I was doing some pushups and Scott walked in and I jumped and up and said... AND 100!
This is my way of giving a shout-out to all of my active friends who inspire me. Thank you! And another thank you for all of the people who tell me they read my blog. I'm vain enough to admit how much it means to me that you are reading my little bs slice of the WWW and that you appreciate "the show." I love it when you tell me your stories and listen to you tell me mine. I love that you don't even know that you are one of my inspirations.
I don't know how to stop getting even cornier, so I will close with my all time favorite quote which I have probably used here before:
"You may never have proof of your importance, but you are more important than you think."
~Robert Fulghum
love and hugs,
Heather
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Highs and the Lows
Lately things have been on a bit of a high note in Fat World. I've been progressing and seeing results. And I'm in the middle of a week that has a many landmines of challenges ahead and it's very risky. Because this is bound to make itself known on the scale. And since I'm so new into the onederland, I am knowingly putting this status in jeopardy. It's a slippery, slippery slope my friends. Because I'm here where things have been going good. And I am putting the sabotage knife to my own throat...
Or am I?
Maybe it's the high note, maybe it's the sangria from dinner (yup, counted that thankyouverymuch) or maybe it's wisdom but this feels different than sabotage. Here are some differences.
As noted, I tracked the sangria.
I planned for most of what I was going to eat. I mean, planned ahead -- I knew where I was going to be going so I planned what to eat and pre-tracked it. I've even got food planned for Thursday, indulgent evening number two.
I increased my exercise (by again, you know, doing some).
I went for a walk when I came home from indulgent dinner number one this week.
I skipped cake that was being offered as a celebration this week.
Here's a low note: Unfortunately I f*ed up the high cake-skipping note by then having one of the dessert sampler shooter things at Carrabba's tonight. I can't believe I did this because when I looked it up it was 12 points. 12 freaking points! Ugh! And this thing was freaking tiny. SO pissed. But from this I regain the humility that is so desperately needed at these high moments. Feeling self-confident for me can quickly lead to arrogance which leads to feelings of being indomitable which quickly leads back to where I was before.
I'm not going back there.
I have over-indulged. I may gain weight this week because of it. These are the facts of life. And how is that going to be? 1 or 2 pounds? Maybe.
Is that worth a total backslide and feeling like I'm a loser? Not really. It's not like I'm going to put back the 30 pounds (I know, right? Thirty since this blog started - I love that!) I lost back on. I'm just going to have to work harder to over-correct.
I'm writing this because I'm on a high note. I'm not going to stay on a high note. There's going to be weeks when I'm going to gain .4 and that will start a shame spiral that will take me to the bottom of a Dorito's bag. I know it and if you read my blog, you know it too. That's life. But it's not my whole life. It's just a low. And the highs will come!
Or am I?
Maybe it's the high note, maybe it's the sangria from dinner (yup, counted that thankyouverymuch) or maybe it's wisdom but this feels different than sabotage. Here are some differences.
As noted, I tracked the sangria.
I planned for most of what I was going to eat. I mean, planned ahead -- I knew where I was going to be going so I planned what to eat and pre-tracked it. I've even got food planned for Thursday, indulgent evening number two.
I increased my exercise (by again, you know, doing some).
I went for a walk when I came home from indulgent dinner number one this week.
I skipped cake that was being offered as a celebration this week.
Here's a low note: Unfortunately I f*ed up the high cake-skipping note by then having one of the dessert sampler shooter things at Carrabba's tonight. I can't believe I did this because when I looked it up it was 12 points. 12 freaking points! Ugh! And this thing was freaking tiny. SO pissed. But from this I regain the humility that is so desperately needed at these high moments. Feeling self-confident for me can quickly lead to arrogance which leads to feelings of being indomitable which quickly leads back to where I was before.
I'm not going back there.
I have over-indulged. I may gain weight this week because of it. These are the facts of life. And how is that going to be? 1 or 2 pounds? Maybe.
Is that worth a total backslide and feeling like I'm a loser? Not really. It's not like I'm going to put back the 30 pounds (I know, right? Thirty since this blog started - I love that!) I lost back on. I'm just going to have to work harder to over-correct.
I'm writing this because I'm on a high note. I'm not going to stay on a high note. There's going to be weeks when I'm going to gain .4 and that will start a shame spiral that will take me to the bottom of a Dorito's bag. I know it and if you read my blog, you know it too. That's life. But it's not my whole life. It's just a low. And the highs will come!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Let's Give 'em something to talk about
My advance apologies if I am talking about you and something that you said to me. I am documenting my weight loss journey on the world wide web. I talk about the fact that I am eating healthier and trying to be more active. I am an unapologetic point counter and weighing checks and balances. It's not uncommon for people to make comments to me both positive and negative or just weird along the way.
I don't usually talk about those things that people say. I don't talk about them here because for one thing I'm posting things on the worldwide web and I chose to do that. They didn't choose to have me discuss these comments on the worldwide web. But on the other hand, it's not a secret.
My godmother says to me that she's worried because it seems like I'm getting down about my weight. Or I'm obsessing about it. I can't remember the exact word, but it was along these lines. I try to explain that I'm NOT obsessing, per se, but it has become a part of my life to try to be healthier. But frankly if she had been with me on this occasion or the other, she would not think by any stretch that I was being obsessed. (Frankly, I think this was in part projecting because she had spent some time with a friend whose daughter is anorexia.) I couldn't stop thinking about this part of the conversation later though, even though we talked for at least 30 minutes about all kinds of things. I've been every weight, she knows I've been every weight and she knows that I haven't been at a healthy weight for some time. Or just healthy body type. I'm not trying to get to be a size 0 here, I'm just trying to get to a weight which is considered healthy for my body type. Like size 10. Or even 12. I know that when I was in high school I thought I was fat even though I was a size 4 and the only thing fat about me was my hair. But that was over 20 years ago. I don't think I'm fat because I'm trying to meet some society standard of ideal body type -- I think I'm fat because I'm fat.
But I'm a lot less fat than I was a year ago. And I'm a lot fatter than I'm going to be a year from now, hopefully.
It maybe seems like I'm obsessing, because I'm on the internet talking about it. But that's a mostly anonymous outlet for me to spout out the stuff that I would otherwise be boring people to tears with. (Well, I already do, but think about how much worse it could be?)
Then there was the co-worker who was always trying to bribe me/thank me with chocolate, which I started declining because the 6 or 8 points or whatever wasn't worth it. I didn't want to pay for it. But she took it to mean that I'm all sacrificing everything and throwing myself on the alter of clean eating or something, because the other day she tried to bribe me/thank me by offering me (and I am not making this up) air popped unseasoned popcorn. I mean, really? That's all you got? At least find a Skinny Cow candy bar and try to fake the funk, man. Ridiculous.
Similar incident with mother in law coming for dinner the other night. She wanted to bring dessert, and I asked what she was going to bring so I could plan for it. It was something that I knew by the sound of it would be high in points so I said that I would just not have any. This definitely came across as being the wrong thing to say because then she decided not to bring it, even though there would be 3 other people eating who likely have enjoyed it. I felt guilty about that all day. I shouldn't have said anything and then just politely declined when the time came. Or sliced a piece you could read through. Or something. But because I am so used to sharing with people my eating habits and talking here about challenges, et cetera I just couldn't stop my big mouth. If you're reading this, I feel bad that I cake-blocked you -- it was not my intent!
But finally, in something good someone talked about, another co-worker told me that I gave her some inspiration and some encouragement to be honest with herself and get going. We didn't get the chance to talk much more than that, because I work in a call center and the phone rang and then the whole day ran away with the spoon -- but I knew it was going somewhere good. And I like that. Because there have been so many people along my journey who inspire me, so if I can be that person for somebody -- then that's the whole point of doing this in the first place, right? To misquote Mahatma Gandhi of all people, I should be the change I want to see in the world.
I am also trying to get better about being a better blogger -- I even have another post I'm working on about the highs and the lows.
hugs,
Heather
I don't usually talk about those things that people say. I don't talk about them here because for one thing I'm posting things on the worldwide web and I chose to do that. They didn't choose to have me discuss these comments on the worldwide web. But on the other hand, it's not a secret.
My godmother says to me that she's worried because it seems like I'm getting down about my weight. Or I'm obsessing about it. I can't remember the exact word, but it was along these lines. I try to explain that I'm NOT obsessing, per se, but it has become a part of my life to try to be healthier. But frankly if she had been with me on this occasion or the other, she would not think by any stretch that I was being obsessed. (Frankly, I think this was in part projecting because she had spent some time with a friend whose daughter is anorexia.) I couldn't stop thinking about this part of the conversation later though, even though we talked for at least 30 minutes about all kinds of things. I've been every weight, she knows I've been every weight and she knows that I haven't been at a healthy weight for some time. Or just healthy body type. I'm not trying to get to be a size 0 here, I'm just trying to get to a weight which is considered healthy for my body type. Like size 10. Or even 12. I know that when I was in high school I thought I was fat even though I was a size 4 and the only thing fat about me was my hair. But that was over 20 years ago. I don't think I'm fat because I'm trying to meet some society standard of ideal body type -- I think I'm fat because I'm fat.
But I'm a lot less fat than I was a year ago. And I'm a lot fatter than I'm going to be a year from now, hopefully.
It maybe seems like I'm obsessing, because I'm on the internet talking about it. But that's a mostly anonymous outlet for me to spout out the stuff that I would otherwise be boring people to tears with. (Well, I already do, but think about how much worse it could be?)
Then there was the co-worker who was always trying to bribe me/thank me with chocolate, which I started declining because the 6 or 8 points or whatever wasn't worth it. I didn't want to pay for it. But she took it to mean that I'm all sacrificing everything and throwing myself on the alter of clean eating or something, because the other day she tried to bribe me/thank me by offering me (and I am not making this up) air popped unseasoned popcorn. I mean, really? That's all you got? At least find a Skinny Cow candy bar and try to fake the funk, man. Ridiculous.
Similar incident with mother in law coming for dinner the other night. She wanted to bring dessert, and I asked what she was going to bring so I could plan for it. It was something that I knew by the sound of it would be high in points so I said that I would just not have any. This definitely came across as being the wrong thing to say because then she decided not to bring it, even though there would be 3 other people eating who likely have enjoyed it. I felt guilty about that all day. I shouldn't have said anything and then just politely declined when the time came. Or sliced a piece you could read through. Or something. But because I am so used to sharing with people my eating habits and talking here about challenges, et cetera I just couldn't stop my big mouth. If you're reading this, I feel bad that I cake-blocked you -- it was not my intent!
But finally, in something good someone talked about, another co-worker told me that I gave her some inspiration and some encouragement to be honest with herself and get going. We didn't get the chance to talk much more than that, because I work in a call center and the phone rang and then the whole day ran away with the spoon -- but I knew it was going somewhere good. And I like that. Because there have been so many people along my journey who inspire me, so if I can be that person for somebody -- then that's the whole point of doing this in the first place, right? To misquote Mahatma Gandhi of all people, I should be the change I want to see in the world.
I am also trying to get better about being a better blogger -- I even have another post I'm working on about the highs and the lows.
hugs,
Heather
Monday, June 18, 2012
*Breaking Exercise News*
I did some -- ha!
It had been quite some time since I had been to the gym, so it was definitely time. And I had a great workout! Back in the day, when I was a good gym girl (remember that 5 minutes?) I used to get to these points where I would not necessarily crave exercise (never that, unfortunately) but I would like feel like the next time THAT was going to be the time that I was going to be able to run. (I'm not even going to link to all of my old "I wish I could run" laments. You know the drill.) I would have these moments of feeling like I was running in my head. I can't explain it. If you've ever been a caterpillar, dreaming of being a butterfly maybe you can understand.
And look at that number above. It's slow, but check it out. I got there because I ran for the first MILE.
Me.
The non-runner. Ran the first mile. (I'm sure most of you know that I use the word "run" very loosely, but I feel like I need to reiterate from time to time that I know it's relative. My running is more like a runner's walk, but whatever...) I started out at a brisk walk but then pumped up to my jog pace and started going. I figured I would just go until I felt like dying, which back when I was going regular was usually maybe a minute or two. But thanks to Crossfit, and that fun 1/4 mile run to warm up, I could go a bit longer than that. It wasn't as hard for me anymore. It still wasn't easy, don't get me wrong -- but it wasn't that hard. I got past a five minute mark and still felt okay. I started the bargaining with myself and decided I would go til I hit 10 minutes and that was impressive. After all, during Crossfit that's past the point of what I ran the half mile at in the fitness tests and usually I was about dead by then. I figured I would be dead and would just work it out for the next 20 minutes.
But when I got to the 10 minute mark I was relatively close to a mile. And I thought, "what the hell? Why not go for it?" In fact, I imagined how excited I would be to tell YOU about it. And this face below is what I imagined I would feel like....
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Saboteur
Feeling a bit bummed and hard on myself. Thought I'd talk to you about it.
(Before I get too far down the beating myself up on the WWW path, let me acknowledge that, er, biology is in part to blame and it could well be a non-issue in say 5 days or so. AND this probably has a scosh to do with my spiraling negativity. But enough of stereotypes and back to my whining...)
I'm still stuck at the line. Hanging on the verge of the Onederland. I've put myself there in part. I've overindulged in wine this past weekend. I'm not exercising as much as I need to. So, I'm sabotaging myself because I'm close to this line that I'm afraid to cross over. And how f-ed up is that? I'm afraid of success. And the worst part is that I already know this about myself. I have known this for a long time. It's part of my girl Peter Pan syndrome. Here's the spiral. (If you're a reasonable put together kind of person, you may not be able to follow. Be thankful that you don't need a therapist, and just move on to either another blog or some other post in this one...)
Once I start being successful with weight loss, that means that I am really going to truly accept that it's my lifestyle now. I'll have to exercise. And eat right. And ask how things are made when I go to restaurants. And all that crap. It's the diet* version of being a grown up. I will have to be responsible for myself and my actions. Yuck. I'm just so not a fan of this. But, that's the reality. If I am successful at losing weight, then I'm going to have to grow up and be responsible. I'm deathly afraid that this will mean that I will be boring. Because I'm already pretty close to boring now.
*Note on the usage of the word "diet": Tonight in our WW meeting (aka Fat Church as anyone who ever read my old blog knows), we had a good discussion about how WW is not a diet -- it's a lifestyle. In my less cranky-pants moments, I not only agree with this but I embrace it and preach it. But here's the fact: it takes a long time and a lot of responsibility to get to where that feels more like a valid truth and less like it's a "diet." Because the lifestyle that got me here is one that is about embracing excess. Anything less than big is going to feel like a diet for a long time. It's why I believe so much in Weight Watchers, but also what makes it so hard for me. The key thing that I have learned in each journey of WW is that the greatest key is moderation. You really can have anything you want but you either have to have it in moderation or if you ARE going to go "all out" you must recognize that that is a splurge and "pay" for it. It's a struggle for me because moderation and I get along about as well as Republicans and Democrats. Oil and water. Chocolate and beer. So, if I can't be moderate, then I can't have it. To the untrained eye, this gives the appearance of being a "diet." I'm not indulging in things that are considered off limits. But it's not that I really consider those things to be off limits. For example, a co-worker brought in Krispy Kreme donuts the other morning. Did I want one? Hell yes. But I calculated the points and it was 6 points. I just didn't want it bad enough to spend 6 points on a donut. I knew that it may lead to another donut and then that's at least twice as much. (Sometimes two of something is more than double the points -- the magic of WW math.) So, I didn't have one. Does this mean I'm not going to have a Krispy Kreme donut ever again? That I have denied ever wanting or needing a donut again? Not bloody likely. But I need to know that when these challenges come my way that I can decide not to indulge.
I recognize that my journey is about recognizing limitations and accepting them.
And accepting myself. Even when I fail. Like when I hang over the stupid Onederland waiting to fall. And obtaining the wisdom to know that falling is not proactive. Leaping is.
In my head this ended on a pithier words of wisdom note, but I can't quite get that last line right and now I just want to go to bed. :)
hugs,
Heather
(Before I get too far down the beating myself up on the WWW path, let me acknowledge that, er, biology is in part to blame and it could well be a non-issue in say 5 days or so. AND this probably has a scosh to do with my spiraling negativity. But enough of stereotypes and back to my whining...)
I'm still stuck at the line. Hanging on the verge of the Onederland. I've put myself there in part. I've overindulged in wine this past weekend. I'm not exercising as much as I need to. So, I'm sabotaging myself because I'm close to this line that I'm afraid to cross over. And how f-ed up is that? I'm afraid of success. And the worst part is that I already know this about myself. I have known this for a long time. It's part of my girl Peter Pan syndrome. Here's the spiral. (If you're a reasonable put together kind of person, you may not be able to follow. Be thankful that you don't need a therapist, and just move on to either another blog or some other post in this one...)
Once I start being successful with weight loss, that means that I am really going to truly accept that it's my lifestyle now. I'll have to exercise. And eat right. And ask how things are made when I go to restaurants. And all that crap. It's the diet* version of being a grown up. I will have to be responsible for myself and my actions. Yuck. I'm just so not a fan of this. But, that's the reality. If I am successful at losing weight, then I'm going to have to grow up and be responsible. I'm deathly afraid that this will mean that I will be boring. Because I'm already pretty close to boring now.
*Note on the usage of the word "diet": Tonight in our WW meeting (aka Fat Church as anyone who ever read my old blog knows), we had a good discussion about how WW is not a diet -- it's a lifestyle. In my less cranky-pants moments, I not only agree with this but I embrace it and preach it. But here's the fact: it takes a long time and a lot of responsibility to get to where that feels more like a valid truth and less like it's a "diet." Because the lifestyle that got me here is one that is about embracing excess. Anything less than big is going to feel like a diet for a long time. It's why I believe so much in Weight Watchers, but also what makes it so hard for me. The key thing that I have learned in each journey of WW is that the greatest key is moderation. You really can have anything you want but you either have to have it in moderation or if you ARE going to go "all out" you must recognize that that is a splurge and "pay" for it. It's a struggle for me because moderation and I get along about as well as Republicans and Democrats. Oil and water. Chocolate and beer. So, if I can't be moderate, then I can't have it. To the untrained eye, this gives the appearance of being a "diet." I'm not indulging in things that are considered off limits. But it's not that I really consider those things to be off limits. For example, a co-worker brought in Krispy Kreme donuts the other morning. Did I want one? Hell yes. But I calculated the points and it was 6 points. I just didn't want it bad enough to spend 6 points on a donut. I knew that it may lead to another donut and then that's at least twice as much. (Sometimes two of something is more than double the points -- the magic of WW math.) So, I didn't have one. Does this mean I'm not going to have a Krispy Kreme donut ever again? That I have denied ever wanting or needing a donut again? Not bloody likely. But I need to know that when these challenges come my way that I can decide not to indulge.
I recognize that my journey is about recognizing limitations and accepting them.
And accepting myself. Even when I fail. Like when I hang over the stupid Onederland waiting to fall. And obtaining the wisdom to know that falling is not proactive. Leaping is.
In my head this ended on a pithier words of wisdom note, but I can't quite get that last line right and now I just want to go to bed. :)
hugs,
Heather
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Journey to the Onederland
It wasn't deliberate, but I kind of thought I was going to hold off posting until I could post a triumphant "I made it to the Onederland!" post. I've been getting so close. I've seen it on my home scale. More than once.
But it never stays. The return to the Onederland feels as elusive as it must have to poor Alice. And my journey is also strewn with "drink me" and "eat me" taunts. :)
The Onederland is not something that skinny bitches (er, sorry - healthy women) can relate to. It is difficult to explain to them without feeling some embarrassment at having to explain that it is a magical place to live where your weight begins with a one. I mean, even when your weight begins with a one, most women still wish it was lower in the ones. I will once I get there.
I am concerned that I have a mental block with the Onederland that keeps me from getting there. I have been actively trying to get to this point since I started this journey a year and a half ago. Don't despair, I'm not beating myself up for not being farther along. I own the Summer of Love Handles. I own all of my journey in between. It's all good. But, now I'm close. Really close. And I am scared. Scared I am going to sabotage it or scared I'm going to go crazy in the desire to get there. Just scared. When it's been this looming goal for so long and I'm so close, it is really daunting.
I'm trying to breathe through it. Just relax... It will come. I just have to keep doing what I'm doing and it will come.
Maybe I need to get back to one of my hot yoga classes...
But it never stays. The return to the Onederland feels as elusive as it must have to poor Alice. And my journey is also strewn with "drink me" and "eat me" taunts. :)
The Onederland is not something that skinny bitches (er, sorry - healthy women) can relate to. It is difficult to explain to them without feeling some embarrassment at having to explain that it is a magical place to live where your weight begins with a one. I mean, even when your weight begins with a one, most women still wish it was lower in the ones. I will once I get there.
I am concerned that I have a mental block with the Onederland that keeps me from getting there. I have been actively trying to get to this point since I started this journey a year and a half ago. Don't despair, I'm not beating myself up for not being farther along. I own the Summer of Love Handles. I own all of my journey in between. It's all good. But, now I'm close. Really close. And I am scared. Scared I am going to sabotage it or scared I'm going to go crazy in the desire to get there. Just scared. When it's been this looming goal for so long and I'm so close, it is really daunting.
I'm trying to breathe through it. Just relax... It will come. I just have to keep doing what I'm doing and it will come.
Maybe I need to get back to one of my hot yoga classes...
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