The Incredible Shrinking Sharon

Happy New Year, New Me!

2010-01-02T00:29:00.005-05:00

That's me with my friends, celebrating the new decade in style at a restaurant near Times Square. Looking happy, graceful and pretty damn svelte, if I do say so myself - and none of those adjectives could have been applied to me last New Year's Eve.

And guess what, folks. I had a chance to weigh myself yesterday shortly before getting glam for the evening - my official goal date weigh-in:

164.6.

I was (am) ecstatic. Because that number is a full 10 pounds smaller than my last weigh, my first week in New York. In just over a month, I dropped 10 pounds without running regularly or paying much attention to disciplined eating. Of course my lifestyle is very active here, between the city streets and the retail job. And I give myself some credit for rehabbing my tastes and making decent choices an instinct - sure, there's been a lot of pizza and many visits to the hotdog carts. But only one visit to McDonald's in two months. Zero bouts of emotion-based candy bar consumption.

Leave us alone, Paparazzi!

Some of you may notice that that number is still almost 20 pounds over my initial goal weight. Who cares! I love how I look, and more importantly, how I feel. I would love to flatten my tummy and tone up my arms; I would like to drop about another 10 pounds by summertime. But I'm thrilled to be in the low 160's and I wouldn't mind living in the mid 150's. That's good enough for this 5-10 girl.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Nothing to be Ashamed Of Except How Late This Update Is

2009-12-28T22:58:00.006-05:00

People have been asking me, what's the latest with the shrinking?

Good question.

I've been preoccupied with the coming true of dreams I barely dared to verbalize. But somehow in the midst of all the late nights, early mornings, champagne, cheesecake, pasta and holiday windows, I haven't packed the weight back on. I know this because my clothes fit the same - my legs are leaner than ever, thanks to so much walking, but my tummy is going a bit doughier, thanks to so much wine and rich food, and very little running. Inexplicably, my roommate came home from Christmas and told me I am skinnier than when she met me. Who knows if that's true - maybe I'm just walking straighter and holding my head higher.

My brother visited me for Christmas!

At any rate, my big GOAL DAY is in three days. And I totally forgot about it today, when I ran for the first time in a month. I don't know what the number on the scale might say, if I weighed on Thursday (I haven't weighed in weeks), but I don't actually care. I have the tools to whisk away any stray pounds that have crept back on. And even though I haven't hit my arbitrary number, I know I will look fabulous on New Year's Eve, because I am in control of my life now, I am actively pursuing what's most important to me, and I have an amazing night planned with a group of smart and funny friends. I am still lean and strong, even if not as taut and toned as I hoped to be. And, most importantly of all, I am, for the most part, proud of myself, confident in my ability to succeed, and looking forward to the future. I'm proud that I lost 35 pounds. But I'm even prouder (and more grateful) that I gained those last three things. And I never want to lose them.

For now, I'm going to push water and limit sodium so I will feel fresh and strong and not look bloaty or tired on New Year's, when I celebrate a new life in a new city, a new me for a new decade. And my New Year's resolution is to run three times a week, because I love how it makes me feel - I remembered that tonight, when I ran 3 miles.

No Weigh-In!

2009-11-20T12:17:00.005-05:00

I kind of wish I had access to a scale today. I want to know where I am - how much I've gained! Yikes! I've done much better the past couple days on making healthy eating choices, and I plan to keep persevering, even if I'm not perfect.

I think my New York life will definitely include a lot more eating out than my Detroit life did, so I think my new challenge needs to be making good restaurant choices - learning how to identify the best nutrition value for the amount I want to spend, taking into account what I've already had that day and what I will have the rest of the day to ensure a good balance. Then I need the discipline to choose that thing instead of my "favorite" thing. My old restaurant approach was to order what I was craving, because treats are allowed - this is life - but that won't work if I'm eating out several times a week, instead of once or twice a month. Any tips?

Me and Mr. Shakespeare in Central Park

This week I will continue practicing good eating choices, I will run four times - and I will buy a scale by next Friday!

By the way, those who are interested in my New York adventures can follow me on Twitter or read my other blog. I love it here! And I'm really glad I started getting in shape before moving here. I've got the stamina to run for the train, hike blocks and blocks when I'm lost, trot up and down the steps at the New York City Library, try on designer clothes, wander for hours around Central Park - it's a great city to be skinny in!

Not Unsavored

2009-11-19T15:14:00.003-05:00

"Should a true man want to lose weight, let him fast. Let him sit down to nothing but coffee and conversation, if religion or reason bid him do so; only let him not try to eat his cake without having it. Any cake he could do that with would be a pretty spooky proposition - a little golden calf with dietetic icing, and no taste at all worth having.

Let us fast then - whenever we see fit, and as strenuously as we should. But having gotten that exercise out of the way, let us eat. Festally, first of all, for life without occasions is not worth living. But ferially, too, for life is so much more than occasions, and its grand ordinariness must never go unsavored. But both ways let us eat with a glad good will, and with a conscience formed by considerations of excellence, not by fear of Ghosts."

-Robert Ferrar Capon, The Supper of the Lamb

This Morning

2009-11-18T15:27:00.002-05:00

Ran about three miles in Central Park. It felt great. A beautiful day in a beautiful place, and I haven't lost as much of my running legs as I feared. Should I thank the pedestrian lifestyle?

Also: broke up once and for all with the hot dog vendors of New York City. And no more weekday, non-special occasion cocktails. No more using chips to dull the pain of 8 hours at the resume grind.

Not quite ready to buy a scale and assessing the damage, but the clothes still fit, so it can't be more than a few pounds.

It's time to get back to where I used to be, and press on towards what I want to be.

Unofficial Weigh-In From NYC

2009-11-06T00:01:00.002-05:00

Things have been crazy since I arrived in New York. Crazy, scary, confusing, exhausting, thrilling, satisfying. I love it here. Even though a lot is uncertain, and even though I'm kind of living like a nomad, I love it. I am convinced that I made the right decision and that things will work out.

My habits, however, have gone up in the air. I am currently not able to cook, and while I'm doing my best to order wisely and to practice portion control, I haven't been perfect. But that's ok. I'm doing my best within the realities of life.

Tonight I visited a friend's gym. I wanted to run. I needed to run. I pretended to run Tuesday morning, heading off to Central Park - but I couldn't find my shorts and my tights were falling down and I felt disoriented and intimidated, and ended up just trotting around admiring and not really running at all (I need my running buddy :( ). So the last time I truly ran was last Thursday, a full week ago, and that was my fateful knee-busting morning, when I wiped out on the pavement after just about a mile.

So I was apprehensive about how the run would treat me. In some ways, I felt like I had kept in good shape because of the miles and miles and miles of walking (and hauling suitcases and helping move furniture). But I didn't eat well today! And what if the walking made my legs just tired! And what if my knee (which has become more and more swollen and discolored even though it's been hurting less and less) poops out on me? And what if what if what if?!! What if I'm not a runner anymore?!

Well. I ran. And it felt totally awesome. I ran indoors, on the treadmill, for the first time ever, which was very different from running outside, but not awful, especially since there was a little TV right on the treadmill that I could plug my earbuds into. I ran a mile, than took a little walk & water break, then ran 3 miles more. I had to coax myself through it, but I'm so glad I did. I can still run! And I feel so much better emotionally and mentally. I need to make running a priority for so many reasons, and this was a good reminder of that.

There was a scale at the gym, so I weighed myself. I'm not counting this as an official weigh-in because I was dressed, plus it was in the evening immediately after working out. But I wanted to know where I stand, and also if it was awful, that might help me get a little better on track with eating. I weighed in at 174. Allowing for clothes and sweaty hair and scale discrepancies, I'm thinking that means I've gained a pound or two since last Friday. I'm accepting that - with such a drastic life change, that's a reasonable fluctuation.

Now I'm going to focus on making wiser eating choices and getting a disciplined running habit in place again as soon as possible so I don't do significant damage. I think I might end up adjusting my goal weight - I may not need to lose as much as I first thought - but I do have fat to drop and I do need to continue toning up so I can look absolutely fabulous on New Year's Eve. I'll keep you posted!

New Life So Far

2009-11-02T14:24:00.002-05:00

Things are busy and amazing and crazy and scary and inspiring and I'm pretty sure I'm doing the right thing. But ask me in five minutes.

Most notable fitness-related thing to report: I smuggled a grand picnic of couscous with tomato & parmesan, carrot sticks, almonds, apples and bananas onto the plane. During one of my (chaotic) flights, the fab-you-luss male flight attendant passed by and eyed the carrot sticks I was chomping on, then asked me pityingly, "Are you a vegetarian?" Only vegetarians enjoy carrot sticks? Nope. This girl enjoys feeling young and fresh and skinny.

And when I was running - literally running - through the airport to catch my flight, I nearly died trying to carry my 30+ pounds of carry-on luggage. Maggie and I never trained for that kind of 5K. And when I arrived at the gate, all I could think about was Thirty-Five Pounds - so heavy. I used to carry this everywhere I went and could never put it down. So heavy.

Weigh-In: Good-Bye, Michigan!

2009-10-30T13:07:00.004-04:00

As you can guess, things have been insane, what with the packing and the job quitting and the good-bye saying and the general out-freaking. I've been running - but not as much. And I've been making good eating choices - but not as strictly. So I was prepared to have no loss this week, or maybe even a gain. I debated not weighing at all today, but then I realized that I might not have access to a scale for the next week. So I manned up and hopped on.

So glad I did.

170.5

That means I'm leaving 35 pounds behind. I'm so ok with that. 35 Pounds are staying here in Michigan, and they are not invited to visit me in New York.

A thin layer of knee-and-palm skin is also staying in Michigan.

Yesterday morning Maggie and I went out for what we thought was our almost-last run. A mile in, I tripped on a concrete jut that was hidden under a beautiful layer of leaves and skidded several feet down the sidewalk. Uber ouch! So we limped back home and applied Neosporin, ice, Advil, et. al. I was worried about having a wrenched and swollen knee, but the muscular bruise wasn't as bad as I at first thought. I bandaged it right up and trotted off to my last day of work!

When I woke up to a burning pain and saw the rain this morning, however, I wussed out. So our last run was rather inglorious. But I won't be stopped for good! Mags will come visit me in New York and we'll run in the park. And I'll run by myself. And I'll make new running friends and sign up for new events on new courses. And my next weigh-in will be in a new state with a new home, a new job (I hope!) and new habits. Wish me luck in making the right choices.

Oh, yeah, Weigh-In...

2009-10-23T09:28:00.005-04:00

I almost totally forgot to weigh this morning. With my big move just a week away, it's been a busy, stressful week! But I hopped on the scale and saw this:

172.0

Which means I neither gained nor lost. And I'm totally ok with that. I'm fitting in clothes I haven't worn in years. Literally YEARS. My stomach is flatter and my waist narrower than it's ever been in all my life. My legs are lean with noticeable muscle alongside the flab. I'm not at all focused on my eating, but my habits are taking care of me - healthy breakfasts every day, lots of water, fruit and veggies and portion control on "treat" foods.

I have Spandex now!
Well, not Spandex, but Lycra running tights
that are almost as unforgiving.
I don't even need this cat!

And, most importantly, despite how stressful and scary this week has been at times, I have not once emotionally eaten. Not once. I wanted to - but I knew I'd regret it, and I knew it wouldn't fix anything, and I just clenched my teeth and felt the fear.

Next week will probably be even crazier, but I'm going to keep making time to run and keep making wise eating choices. I've got other things on my mind right now - like finding a job and a place to live - so I'm ok with not losing weight aggressively, but I refuse to gain weight or to backslide in the habits I've worked so hard to build. And I look forward to exploring healthy choices in a new town!

Things I Didn't Say Over the Weekend.

2009-10-19T19:28:00.004-04:00

Didn't run or think about food all weekend - it's my last free weekend before the big, terrifying move, and I was scrambling around my apartment from early in the morning till late at night, cleaning out closets and cupboards, boxing up what to ship, what to sell and what to give away. I made a couple not-so-awesome food choices, but I'm realizing that I've trained myself pretty well, by now, with portion control, so my calories are ok even if a handful of them were from corn dogs, margaritas and leftover Thai food instead of fresh fruit and whole grains.

Feeling worn out today, headachey and blue for lady reasons, and a bit demoralized by how sad it is that three runners died in the Detroit Marathon yesterday. Three half-marathoners. One of whom was the age I will be if I run a half marathon next year. Scary/sad. Of course I don't want to be lily-livered, but...but...but...normal people run the half marathon. That's just 13 miles. Marathons are crazy and it's tragic but imaginable that you might drop dead after running over 26 miles straight. But just 13 miles? That shouldn't be enough to kill someone?!

I did not, however, die of a heart attack on my own run this morning. Quite the contrary. I felt awesome. My speed has improved itself. I've now run twice since that awful/awesome 10K and subsequent half-week funk. Both times, my stride has felt different - faster and way more fun. I think I'm under 11 minutes/a mile and more comfortable than I used to be at 12 minutes/a mile. Pounded out 4 miles and could've kept going. Incredible.

Maggie and I signed up for our next 5K for this Saturday. It will be odd to back off to a shorter event. Our first three races have been escalated challenges. I plan to run fast at this one, to make sure I get that finish line feeling of I didn't think I could but I did. That's better than winning - and that means a lot coming from a Pelletier.

This also our last event together for the foreseeable future. We're already devising ways to continue holding each other accountable and encouraging each other with a couple of states in the middle. But this will be the end of this exciting, astonishing, cold, dark, sleepy, sweaty, lifechanging phase for us - when we first became runners.

Weigh-In: Whooosh!!!

2009-10-16T08:40:00.010-04:00

172

!!!!

Finally a loss and a long-lost new low!

Now, I know I didn't lose over five pounds this week. Some of that has to be last week's loss that just didn't quite finish sorting itself out in time to show up at weigh in.

But still. I've lost back everything I regained in September. And I'm sitting pretty at a new low.

I'm so glad I stuck to my good choices, as all of you encouraged me to do. I'm so glad I didn't let the lack of results knock me to the side of the road. I'm so glad I persevered!

NOTE TO SELF: Do not spaz out every time the scale doesn't say what you want it to say. Be calm and patiently continue making the right choices. You'll be glad you did.

Feeling good.

PS - now that I have a loss to report, I allowed myself to get a new ticker. You'll notice the pink ribbon motif I chose - this is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, aka Feel Your Boobies month. Take care of yourself, get checked, and be diligent with your healthy habits, because you want to get skinny and because you want to keep your lovely rack happy and healthy. I don't have a purple ribbon, but October is also Domestic Violence Awareness month. If you think a friend is in trouble, make sure they know you're ready to help. And if you're in a bad situation, stand up for yourself today. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to run away. Click here for more information, or if you need a helping hand.

I Ran

2009-10-15T20:09:00.004-04:00

Finally ran again tonight. I thought I was going to hate it, but it was awesome.

I felt like I haven't run in forever, even though it's only been a couple days, because I hated Monday's run and wimped out halfway through Tuesdays, and slept through my running alarm the last two days - that's what happens when your running buddy goes out of town on business.

She still gets credit for getting my shoes on the road tonight, though:

me: give me reasons to run tonight

i'm so exhausted and blue

Maggie: the instructor of this class has on this ridiculously tight shirt

and back flab

me: HOT

Maggie: and a tie that only comes halfway down his huge belly

that's why you should run

me: hahahaha

Maggie: i will be very very proud of you if you run, but understand if you need the night off

That maternal passive-aggressive guilt-tripping worked. I did want her to be proud of me. And I could tell my body needed to run. It's used to it now, and as much as it needed the rest, it was starting to prod me back towards discipline.

I know it was ready to work again, because I was running so much faster. I can't give you statistics, but I just felt different. I hated the first five minutes, but then I found my zone again, and I didn't care that it was cold and rainy; I just loved the feeling of running, and I was so relieved that I loved it again.

I ran 5.5 miles total. Don't be too impressed - I ran to the library and back, so that's just 2.75 miles of straight running, and I had to wait at lights a few times. You see, I didn't want to do anything besides go home and fall on the couch to watch Jeopardy and NBC Thursday night comedy. But I had stuff to return. So I ran to the library with my little drawstring backpack on my back with my returns, telling myself that doing both at once would pay off. And I limited myself to getting just 1 movie and 1 book so it wouldn't be heavy on the way back.

It was weird to run in the daylight, with lots of cars on the road and bikes on the sidewalk and people coming and going. But it was great. I needed to run. My body was craving it. Now I know I can love running even if I'm by myself, and even if it's after an endless day at work, and even if I'm all alone on the road. I know I can back off for a few days without totally losing my running groove. I think I can call myself a runner now.

POMx

2009-10-15T14:38:00.000-04:00

Bracing myself for weigh-in tomorrow. I'm trying to be prepared for unpleasant numbers - I'm still in kind of a funk about running, and since Maggie is in Chicago for work and doesn't show up at my door to drag me out of bed, I've only run twice this week, both only about 3 miles. Lazy. Eating has been good, up until this morning, when I stress-ate 5 (yes, FIVE!) chocolate chip-walnut cookies. Plus, the monthly evil twin will be visiting soon. So it's the perfect storm for a crappy weigh-in tomorrow. I'm hoping to at least have stayed the same - no loss is ok if it comes along with no gain - and then I'll work hard and be a good girl next week.

Don't worry, I have something planned to distract you all from my lethargy. A few weeks ago, a kindly product rep contacted me and offered samples of the POM Wonderful brand POMx Tea. Of course I'll never say no to free yummy things. Soon a refrigerated mailer arrived at my door with four colorful iced teas and a coupon for a fifth. Bottoms up!

I loved the two low-calorie flavors, Pomegranate Light Hibiscus and Pomegranate Light Wildberry. Both boast just 35 calories, meaning I could drink the whole bottle for under a hundred calories (honestly, who is responsible for including more than one serving in packaging that is obviously single-serving designed? Cruel.) They were tasty and enjoyable. Very light, refreshing taste - not too sweet, not too "tea" ish. I was a little leery of the Hibiscus aspect of the flavor - isn't this a flower, not a fruit? Would it taste like plants? As it turns out, yes, it did, but in a good way, bright and fresh. After all, some people complain that gin tastes like grass!

I was also a little leery that the Pomegranate Peach Passion White Tea would be too sweet for me - I like tart with a hint of sugar, not heavily sweet things. But I think this one was my favorite. It was sweet, but in a light, crisp way, like fresh fruit is sweet. Very yummy! Unfortunately this one bounces up to 80 calories a serving - still beats soda, but not as guzzle-friendly as its light sisters.

I didn't care for the strong blackberry of the Pomegranate Blackberry Tea. It was very fresh, but a little overpowering for my palate. If you're picking it up because you're craving blackberry juice, though, you're going to be pleasantly satisfied.

I haven't used my coupon for the fifth one, yet, but I enjoy the idea of it tucked up my sleeve for a thirsty day. I didn't do any sort of scientific testing to substantiate the brand's claims of the antioxidant powers of pomegranates, but I haven't gotten sick since drinking them, so they must be doing some good! And it was fun to try something new. Thanks for the samples!

Who Am I and What Have I Done With Sharon?

2009-10-14T12:15:00.007-04:00

Just got an email advertising a chance to "Win A Year of Wendy's Hamburgers!"

My first thought was, "gross." Back in the day, this would have been my favorite sweepstakes ever, as long as it included fries and ranch dressing and chicken nuggets and Frosties. Now, flat fake fast-food burgers are not at all appetizing. I prefer fresh food and spices to grease and preservatives.

Much has changed - this was me at my 25th birthday party last April:

Ugh.

Ugh ugh ugh.

You won't be surprised when I tell you that the party's theme was "Ice Cream Buffet." (and, yes, this picture is exactly what it looks like. A lap dance. That's what old college buds are for!)

I'm horrified by this picture. Hello, thirty pounds, I don't miss you! Obviously, I was in denial about how much weight I had packed on.

I like this one much better:

Just ran to the office bathroom to take a phone picture to assure myself that I still don't look that awful. And now I'm hoping my hair doesn't look that purple outside of bathroom lighting...

Wipe-Out!

2009-10-13T11:47:00.003-04:00

This morning I had my first running spill. Pretty shocking, considering how often I fall when walking, that I managed to run four times a week for three months without once tripping. But all good and bizarre things must come to an end.

We were about a mile into our usual 4-mile loop, running in the west lane that is closed for construction. I turned to cross the open lane and veer back onto the sidewalk. I forgot that we were in the roadbed, scraped clean and ready for cement pouring. I tripped on the curb between and sprawled flat across the open lane of traffic.

Fortunately, it was 5:45 am and there were no actual cars, so I didn't get run over. And I didn't smash my face into the asphalt, which was the terror that flashed across my mind between stubbing the curb and landing. The power of the human body's reflexes came to life and structured my descent from running stride to prostrate. I got a booboo on my knee and a bruise on my hip, and my hands were sore but my gloves protected me from massive skin loss.

I would like to write that I sprang back up and kept running. In reality, I remained spread eagled in the road and turned my head right and left to see if any cars were near. Clearly, my reflexes were totally used up in saving me from total face fracture - the smart move would be to first leap off the pavement, then check for cars. Only once I kind of sat up and looked at Maggie's horrified face did I realize that I should rise to my full 5 feet, 10 inches and get out of the damn road. I did so, and kept running.

But I did wimp out of today's four miles about 1.25 from the end.

I think I'm a little burnt out from running - I think my body is exhausted from training for the 10K and my mind needs a break from pushing me so hard. I don't have a specific running goal coming up and I'm feeling the hole in my goals where the 10K used to be. My big move is 3 weeks away, and I'm excited and terrified and distracted by pulling everything together.

I need to rest, and I need to refocus.

***

Operation 10K ON 10-10: The One Where I Cried

2009-10-11T18:44:00.005-04:00

Ok, so 10Ks are much farther than 5Ks. Therefore, this blog post will be even more longwinded than usual, because I have to describe in great detail how hard it was, and how much I hated it, and all the times I wanted to quit, and why I didn't, and the two times I actually cried, and why I made myself stop, and what you have for lunch after you run a 10K on 3 weeks of training.

Ready to run!

The race got off to a great start when we were standing in line to register, and an Officer of the Law hopped out of his squad car and stripped his shirt off. He then took his time unfolding his race t-shirt and pulling it on, giving us an extended and inspiring view of his holstered gun nestled up to his bare tanned and toned abs. Like I said, inspiring.

Nothing else was as awesome as a shirtless cop. The race was poorly organized, with an explicably slow registration queue and a confusing course that involved running the same twisty loop five times. This was montonous and bewildering, plus led to great discouragement when being lapped by speedsters (at one point I was enveloped by a herd of high school boys - but was vindicated when I passed later, and they were trudging and texting and blocking the entire trail). But it was a beautiful day, cold but sunny, and the park was full of big trees, and I felt strong and ready.

Excited/nervous/weird

Then the race started, and my life began to suck. The first time I cried was in the first 3 miles, which were kind of miserable. My legs felt tight and cramped and I couldn’t settle in to an enjoyable pace. I felt clunky and slow. As I passed the 2-mile marker, I couldn’t imagine sticking it out for the whole course of the race. Maggie was disappearing merrily into the distance, and I was proud of her speed, but I felt like I was a giant failure. I felt so dead and slow and discouraged, and I started crying without really understanding why I was being so pathetic.

I kept running, though. My legs were still going, and even though I was unhappy running, I wasn’t willing to make the decision to stop. I wasn’t quit defeated enough to give up in my mind before my body quit. And I made myself stop crying because it was wasting fluids and breath.
The second time I cried was in the second half of the race. For a little bit in the middle, I was doing ok. My legs felt like they were finally warming up and getting used to the rhythm of running and I was looking around me, enjoying the lovely park. It didn't last long.

Isn't it a beautiful day?! Don't I look miserable and lumpy!

At this point, I was alone on the course. No one visible ahead of me or behind me (thank God I didn’t know that was because I was the very last 10K runner, and all the 5Kers had sidelined off towards their finish line). I came to a cross in the path, and couldn’t remember if I was supposed to go straight or turn, even though I had run this way three times before. I felt lost and scared and abandoned, and I started to cry again as I ran straight forward. But then I felt comforted when I rounded a clump of trees and recognized the path ahead, and once again, I told myself to quit being a baby and sack up.

I never stopped running. This was not out of great strength of will or determination to succeed - I just knew I was feeling so low that if I stopped, I would never start again. And as much as I was hating the race and feeling like a loser, I knew that I didn’t really want to quit. I knew that quitting could never be undone. I knew I would hate having quit longer than I was hating the experience of running. I kept reminding myself that I had run this distance before and there was no reason why I couldn‘t again. I kept trying to remember that tired, excited, proud feeling at the finish line. I thought about how embarrassed I would be, after weeks of vainglorious Operation 10K by 10-10 Tweets and Facebook statuses, to admit to the entire internet that I had given up. So I kept running and running and hating myself and running.

Faking a good attitude

I know this race was harder on my body because my thinking wasn’t entirely clear. I couldn’t remember which number lap I was on, so I wasn’t sure which of the distance markers applied to me. At one point, I ran past some organizers who tried to shunt me off towards the finish line where the 5Kers were finishing, and I felt idiotically hurt, interpreting it as if they could tell by looking at me I wasn’t cut out for the 10K.

I almost cried a third time. Towards the end of what I thought was probably the next-to-the-last lap, I was running fine - my legs felt stronger and happier than they had during the first part of the race - but my spirit was wimping out on me again. I was headed towards the same crossroads that had confused me before, and even though I knew which way to go this time, I teetered on the verge of crying again. After just a sob and a half, I thought about this blog, and all the encouragement y’all have given me about this race, and I thought to myself, “I will not write that I cried three times. I’ve already cried twice. I will not cry three times about a race I chose to do and worked hard to prepare for.”

Then Maggie appeared through the trees, looping back to catch up with me for the final half lap (or so I thought). I was so grateful to see her. I was super proud of her speedyness but it made a world-of-difference to be running side-by-side. It’s less embarrassing to whoo-hoo for yourself when someone else is doing it too.

I love this picture. Maggie looks so cute and sporty and skinny!

We charged through the second half of the lap together, and as we passed the finish area, my friends Alan and Lauren hopped on and ran with us long enough to announce that they were leaving. Alan is a hardcore running person who has done marathons and triathalons and stuff, and he finished the 10K in under an hour despite not really training for it at all. I kind of hate him for this, but when he had lapped me earlier in the race, I was inspired by watching his easy, natural stride as he vanished into the distance - he runs with grace and makes it look fun. Someday I want to run that lightly.

This is Alan, posing proudly with Mr. America, who is patriotic from head to toe to fingertips. Alan's better half Lauren is responsible for all these awesome photos, and for cheering when I ran past her even though one of the times I threw my gross sweaty snotty wadded-up hat and gloves at her. Thanks, Lauren!

Then it was just us, running along, side-by-side. It was sort of fun, and sort of hell. Maggie said she needed to walk for a little bit and I rudely snapped, "No you don't. Keep going." - if I don't get to walk, nobody gets to walk. She whimpered, "ok..." and kept trucking like a champ. Because she often inspires me with her Barack Obama impersonation on our morning runs, I decided to return the favor. I delivered a spirited address comparing the merits and challenges of running a 5K to the merits and challenges of running the country, and the eventual gratification to that of winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Some of the motivation rubbed off on me by accident, and, as we rounded towards the front of the park, I ended my presidential moment by announcing that I had specially placed a squadron of young cops on the race course for Maggie's viewing enjoyment.

On an earlier, lonely lap, I had enjoyed being the (gasping, lumbering) center of attention as I passed the squadron of baby police cadets as they held up the line of cars entering the park for me to pass by. I expected similar deferential treatment this time around. Unfortunately, they were too busy being adolescent males in a gossipy huddle to pay us any attention as we neared. I complained to Maggie, "They should be cheering for us!" and she shocked me by turning towards them and growling "Hey. Guys. You're supposed to cheer for us." I believe I felt a gentle breeze as they raised their eyebrows, but it also could have been from their audible snorts. One offered a sarcastic, "yeah, yay," which we did not appreciate. Sterling Heights' finest-in-training, ladies and gentlemen.

Now comes the absolute worst moment of the entire race. We were finishing the lap and nearing the finish line, and were pre-congratulating ourselves. I picked up the pace a bit in my eagerness to get to the end and collapse in a pool of my own tears and vomit. We headed up the tiny hill, towards the waiting officials, and I spied the time of 1:03:somethingsomething on the time clock. As I said to Maggie, "Whoa, look how fast we were!" the officials waved us on. They made us keep running. We had to do another half lap to complete the 10K distance.

This was a horrible, godforsaken moment. I was sick to death of running, sick of seeing the same parking lot and tennis courts for 5 laps, and had been sprinting to get to the finish. I have no idea where the juice came from to run that final half mile. But we trundled on. On and on and on. Passed the juvenile cops one last time. Passed all the parked cars one last time. Realized that no one else was still running. Got back to the finish line. Crossed it. Finished.

I have never felt so awful and so awesome in all my born days. I thought I was tired after the cemetery run, and I thought I was exhausted after Tara Grant. Uh-huh. This was a new level of chewed-up, spit out, then scraped back up and run through a blender. My legs were shaking and I kept walking in inane circles because I was afraid my heart would explode if I tried to stand still. But I was so proud of us! I wanted to quit the whole time - and didn't!

Our final time was 1:11:58, a pace of 11:33/mile, which I am pretty proud of, because my goal was to finish under 1:15. We were the absolute last 10kers to finish, but we were only 10 minutes behind the last half of the 5K runners. And, as I mentioned earlier, the race was terribly organized with incorrectly marked distances, and some people ran unnecessary laps and others ran too few. I'm pretty confident that we ran the correct 10K distance, based on what I remember of our laps and based on how our time measures up to our usual pace. But something was off, because I'm almost postive we ran 6 laps before the final weird half lap, but at the beginning of the race, they said the 10K course was 5 laps plus final segment.

And the long and short of it is, we did it! We did it! Operation 10K by 10-10 was a success! Not a roaring success - more like a whiny, teary, miserable success, but I'm so glad I stuck it out. I'm proud of all our hard work to train for the race, and I'm super mega proud of us for persevering when we hated it.

After staggering around admiring the adult policemen and giving critical glances to the unmotivational cadets, we went to Panera to reward ourselves with bowls of hot soup, apple-pecan salad and strawberrie smoothies. We proudly left our numbers pinned to our shirts and the girl behind the counter said with wide eyes and snapping gum, "Whoa, did you guys, like, just run a marathon?" We explained that it was just a 10K and she said, "wow. like, same difference, right?" Yeah, kind of, not at all.

So...what's next?

I Can Be So Dense! (Stick Around Till the End - It's A Pun)

2009-10-09T15:08:00.009-04:00

Thanks, everyone, for the encouraging comments and clear-headed reminders. I'm trying not to let myself obsess and get too depressed - I need to stay pumped for Operation 10K by 10-10! Tomorrow is 10-10!

I think one problem is I have this mental habit of treating myself the way you train a dog not to go pee-pee in the house. I fixate on the bad thing I've done, rubbing my nose in it and not letting myself pull my head away, until I either freak out and rush to find oblivion or become totally desensitized to what I've done and decide that it's a failure that's written into my DNA. This is obviously self-destructive and ineffective, but hard to shake. I've (mostly) stopped letting myself go blind with food or alcohol, but I still get caught in deep mental grooves of fixating on something until I stop caring or have an action plan.

I think this self-punishing reaction, my problems with anxiety and my acute case of dysfunctional perfectionism mutually exacerbate each other. I feel very anxious when a problem has appeared until I have a carefully organized, immaculately alphabetized plan of attack. I need to know exactly what I'm going to do to make things better. When I can't find a solution with which to Band-Aid the boo-boo, my anxiety about the initial problem is compounded by anxiety over failing at being a problem-solver and terror over not knowing what to do. This neuroticism paralyzes me, because I don't want to do anything until I know (think) I can and will do it absolutely perfectly - in part because I know that if I fail (which I halfway believe I will) I will steep myself in the failure until I'm fat, hungover or suicidal. Or all three.

Fighting to break my emotional eating problem at once helps force these issues forward and makes it scarier to confront them. I refuse to blanket myself in food, and I'm too scared to dive back into the bottom of the bottle. Food is for nourishment, wine is for relaxation and enjoyment. Neither are for therapy, grief counseling or career planning.

It makes a huge difference to have the non-judgemental support of so many friends, both real and on the interwebs. And it helps so much to be reminded of the things I should fixate on, like the progress I have achieved and the goals I have accomplished even though I was almost too scared to set them in the first place. I need to have my nose rubbed in those things. I need to be given the right ideas to think about obsessively.

Trinity, one of my oldest friends who has been there for me through some of my scariest, ugliest times, listened to me bitch and moan and pity myself on Facebook chat all morning, then sent me a link to this fascinating article, which explains the science behind all of your comments about muscle "weighing" more than fat:

Muscle Does Not Weigh More Than Fat (5 pounds is 5 pounds), But It Is Much Nicer to Look At

Click on the link and look at this picture:

Absolutely blows my mind. Look how much bigger and weaker and grosser the fat is, compared to the same amount of muscle! Muscle is more dense than fat, so the same weight in muscle takes up less space around my skeleton than the fat does - plus, the muscle is sleek and shapely, while the fat is, well, fat. Meaning no change or a discouraging change on the scale doesn't necessarily mean that I've added mass, as you all reminded me so kindly. I can be skinnier, but weigh more, if I've been adding muscle onto my body while the fat is burning away through wise food choices and dedicated exercise.

Of course, my initial reaction is to obsess about how that is what's underneath my skin in my flabby areas, and get depressed that those areas didn't go away. But I need to look at this picture and remind myself that the fat is going away slowly and it's not just vanishing, it's transforming into something taut and pink (my fave color!) and powerful. I can keep doing the work, making the hard choices and being patient through the weeks when the transformation is happening more slowly or unexpectedly than I'd like.

Thanks again for sticking around through all my narcissistic moping, and for taking the time to comment. I appreciate so much the encouragement, whether you're sharing from your own experience or giving me a stern kick in the pants.

***

Weigh-In: Oh, Bother.

2009-10-09T09:24:00.005-04:00

So, yesterday when I said I would be ok with a disappointing weigh-in, I meant, tiny loss or no loss. I didn't mean two-and-a-half-pound gain. But that is what I saw this morning. The scale said 177.0, and it said that eight or nine times, so I know it's true.

How come the scale is rising even though I can tell I'm shrinking? How could I have gained over 2 pounds in one week, with tons of exercise and only two eating plan fails? (A hot dog and chips on Saturday afternoon, a piece of cake on Sunday afternoon.)

Blah.

Now I'm back on the wrong half of my weight loss, below the 30-pounds-gone milestone, with more to lose than is already lost. And now my mini-goal of 165 by October 23 is pretty much impossible - can't lose 12 pounds in 2 weeks. And I have lost just 3 pounds in September. Despite all my disciplined eating and getting up at 5 am to run, only 3 measly pounds budged for good in the past month. And even those will probably be back next week.

Double Blah.

I'm so discouraged. I would be ok with gaining if I could point to laziness, bad choices, monthly joys or something else to explain it. But gaining 2 pounds when I'm doing all the right things? Crushing.

What do I do? Back to 1400 calories? 1200? More running? More sit-ups? Cut off more hair?

Operation 10K by 10-10: We have LIFT-OFF

2009-10-08T09:16:00.004-04:00

Today was our last run before our momentous first 10K on Saturday morning. We planned to run 5.5 miles.

Guess what:

We ran 6 miles. SIX MILES!!! Do you realize how far that is? Do you realize how awesome we are?!!

It was hell, but it was also wonderful. We had brand new little hats and stripey gloves to wear, so we felt very warm and sporty even though we could see our breath. I commented to Maggie that, with our ponytails tucked away under the caps, our shadows looked like boys, and she pointed out that our hips were way too wide and curvy to be male. I mean, our shadows' hips are wide and curvy. Ours are sleek and svelte, of course.

Due to poorly managed laundry scheduling, both my pairs of running pants were out of commission, so I had to wear my cute cuddly pink drawstring pants, which are great for lounging but are unreliable in the staying-up-and-secure department. I had visions of them dropping mid-run, sending me sprawling to the pavement. Imagine the horror of calling paramedics to come out at 5:30 in the morning and scrape you off the ground, patch you back together and put your pants back on. Fortunately, although the pants shifted downwards a little, my hips still have enough fat on them to arrest the pull of gravity, and after a mile or so I forgot to worry about flashing the sleeping world.

Poor Maggie probably ran about 7 miles - she's so much faster than I am! I was proud of her for charging along so speedily, and every block or so she'd head down the side street to run little loops until I caught up. We are very industrious about cheering ourselves on, and during the final mile and a half, we did lots of fist-pumping and lyrics-yelling and even loudly whoo-hooed ourselves quite a bit, to the great delight of all the neighbors in their houses. I was a little surprised that none of the passing cars slowed down to cheer for us, but it was pretty early in the morning, and maybe the drivers hadn't had their coffee yet. In the very last quarter mile, we passed our old track at the high-school and waved to all our comrades who we don't see anymore now that we're running around the city. We even waved hello to Mr. Skunk.

So it was a pretty awesome run. We both felt like puking at the end, and both of our ponytails were soaking wet - even mine, which is thick and hangs halfway down my back. That's the true sign of athletic superiority. We are so totally, immeasurably pumped for our 10K on Saturday! It'll be a challenge, but now that we've run 6 miles, we can run 6.2. Yes we can!

___

In other news, weigh-in is tomorrow. I've been so focused on the 10K that I've forgot to be obsessed about whether I'll have another stalled week, or whether the scale will drop. I've been doing pretty well with calories - upped my numbers a bit because of all the running, but for the most part the higher calories are all coming from healthy foods.

Even if the number doesn't budge, I know my body is changing - last night I wore an old pair of size-ten jeans that's been forlornly waiting in my closet for years. They were snug, but not as snug as when I tried them last Saturday, and comfortable to wear with a hoodie hiding the muffin top. And today, due to the aforementioned laundry situation, I couldn't wear my regular sports bra, but I dug out an old one that's the same model but smaller size - old, but never worn - and it fit perfectly comfortably. So even if I don't like what I see above my toes in the morning, and even if I miss my October 23/165 mini-goal, I think I'll be ok.

Spreading the Spark

2009-10-07T14:54:00.010-04:00

I've been using SparkPeople to log my calories throughout this process. It's helped me stay accountable to myself for everything that goes into my mouth without being overwhelmed by counting, adding and listing meals and ingredients.

I also enjoy the site's "SparkPoints" feature that awards you points - which add up to trophies - for everything from logging exercise minutes to tracking your water intake to reading health & fitness articles to voting in polls. The competitive, Type-A side of my personality enjoys watching my points add up and seeing each new trophy appear in the upper right-hand corner of my Spark page - sometimes I set a weekly goal for myself, and get upset if I forget to click my glasses of water before I log off for the day. And while earning (meaningless) points, I've found yummy healthy recipes and picked up handy work-out tips.

Today, I felt like racking up a few extra points towards my next goal, so I clicked over to the dailySpark blog section and read this post about the habits of healthy people and how to stick with them when life gets stressful. I found the author's experience very relatable and her tips very simple and livable. Sometimes I read articles that give advice like "make fitness a priority" or "plan ahead to stick to healthy eating," without breaking down more practical ways to actually do that. If you don't think you have time to work-out or to cook healthy meals, you can't just make time. You need someone to show you how to make changes that will free up time. You need to know the little sneaky things that would never occur to you on your own.

For example, this blog author says, "I wasn't able to make it to Spinning class on Tuesdays and Thursdays as I usually do, but I could get up 30 minutes early and run three miles before work." Sounds a little intimidating - but read on, because in a later paragraph she points out "Though my to-do list should have kept me up until the wee hours most nights, I climbed into bed by midnight so I'd be ready for my 7 a.m. alarm." Of course, this still requires you to make priorities and follow through with discipline. You have to care enough to actually arise from the bed when you would be sleeping, and you have to plan effectively to allow an earlier bedtime. But doesn't it help to have a finite goal suggested, along with a specific tip for how to be successful in accomplishing it? Not just, "Get up earlier and workout" but "Get up half an hour earlier and run 3 miles."

Here's my favorite tip from the blog post:

One shopping trip for healthy fast foods can prevent disaster later. I loaded up on apples, hummus, salsa, almond butter, frozen broccoli, eggs and whole-grain bread so that I could eat meals even when I was short on time. I might not have cooked a fancy dinner most nights last month, but heating up a bag of frozen broccoli, cooking up a couple of eggs and toasting some multigrain bread meant I had something substantial and healthy to fill my belly on nights when I didn't get home until late. Hummus sandwiches, apples with almond butter and hard-boiled eggs kept me fueled throughout the day.

All this talk we see everywhere of planning healthy meals and shopping diligently for them, but this is the perfect cheat sheet - simple, inexpensive, non-perishable items that allow for plenty of combinations of speedy, tasty, nourishing meals. If I'm worried about planning menus, keeping produce fresh and cooking and cleaning every night through my busiest time, of course I'm headed straight for the McDonald's drive-thru! But I can run into the grocery store and grab 7 things! I can whip up eggs or slap some hummus on bread! And I'll feel stronger and more energetic, plus I won't be hampering my weight loss goals.

What are your favorite online resources that make healthy living realistic?

(If you join SparkPeople, you should be my friend - I'll get 10 points!! Plus, it's like Facebook for skinny girls. My username is sharongracepjs. Thanks to Auburn for being the first!)

Say Goodbye to Pants

2009-10-05T10:21:00.003-04:00

I have a beautiful olive interview suit that my momma bought me in the summer of 2005, before my senior year of college. They fit just perfectly then (after a tailor lengthened them, of course). By graduation, I couldn't get into them. In Spring 2007, I interviewed for a management position at the bookstore where I was working, and wore the suit even though at that point the pants were a bit too loose. I wore it again to interview for my current job in May of 2008, when they fit just perfectly. Throughout this past spring and summer, I wore them more and more frequently as I expanded out of all my other dress pants. By June, I could barely get them buttoned.

This is today (if you can tell what's going on in this TMZ-esque graphic low-quality picture):

Almost too loose to stay up.

It will be sad to say goodbye to these pants, because they're from my momma, but I'm glad it's because I'm too skinny, not because they burst.

***

ME, Over the Top!

2009-10-04T17:13:00.001-04:00

Wow, this is Award Weekend over here at my blog! I should be glammed into a sequinny dress, sashaying down a red carpet towards Ryan Seacrest!

Thanks to Amy who metamorphosizes over at The Not So Secret Life of A Not So Together Mom, for the Over the Top blog award...at least I think that's a good thing ;)

In keeping with the weekend's theme of oversharing, here's 35 words on the topic of ME (fast facts are so much skinnier than fast food, aren't they!). Yesterday I admitted my past; this is my present. (Amy, for some of these you stole my answer and I had to work hard to find a replacement! If only introspection burned calories...)

1)Where is your cell phone? Omnipresent
2)Your hair? Auburnish
3)Your mother? Missed
4)Your father? Unmentionable
5)Your favorite food? Eggplant
6)Your dream last night? Forgotten
7)Your favorite drink? Wine
8)Your dream/goal? Published
9)What room are you in? Caribou
10)Your hobby? Alphabetizing
11)Your fear? Abandonment
12)Where do you want to be in six years? London
13)Where were you last night? Bed
14)Something that you aren't? Wise
15)Muffins? Banana
16)Wish list item? Faith
17)Where did you grow up? Michigan
18) Last thing you did? Hairdyeing
19) What are you wearing? Layers
20) Your TV? Borrowed
21)Your pets? Imaginary
22)Friends? Widespread
23)Your life? Changing
24)Your mood? Lazy
25)Missing someone? Several
26)Vehicle? Focus
27)Something you are not wearing? Shoes
28)Your favorite store? Target
29)Your favorite color? Pink
30)When was the last time you laughed? Lunch
31)Last time you cried? Months
32)Your best friend? Books
33) One place I go to over and over? Facebook
34)One person who e-mails me regularly? Monster
35)Favorite place to eat? Thai

Next up: 7 Weeks to Skinny (you need to blog more, anyway), Continuous Changes, Jogging Auburn, The Sunny Side of Life.

Honest Scrap: Down the Hatch

2009-10-03T08:55:00.001-04:00

So a couple weeks back, the lovely and tenacious Jogging Auburn gave me a blog award, and I totally flaked out on doing what I had to do to claim it. She bestowed upon me the Honest Scrap award for "honesty and sincerity in blogging," which I think may be a glossed-up way of saying, "TMI."

To earn this award, I have to announce ten hitherto unknown things about myself. In keeping with the theme of this blog, I have decided to give you all my Ten Most Horrifying Fat Confessions.

1. When I was very little, we used to go to Old Country Buffet when visiting extended family in Atlanta. I was always scolded for getting too much food and leaving a mostly full plate. One day, my dad told me I couldn't visit the Sundae Bar unless I finished every bit of the food I had gotten. I ate it all, got my ice cream...then promptly puked and puked all over the table.

2. During my elementary school years, my family went to a summer Bible camp every year. The week always concluded with a glorious Penny Fair, at which you paid little red cents to play carnival games and win tickets. I always spent every single one of my tickets on candy necklaces and Good'n'Plentys, most of which were consumed in the car on the trip home.

3. When we were ten years old, my friend bet me a bowl of ice cream to drink a bowl of ranch dressing. I drank it. She never paid up.

4. In middle school, when my family went on cross-country RV trips, whenever we stopped at a Walmart or a CVS I secretly bought a bag of Rolos and hid them in my backpack. Then I would sneakily eat them all day long while immersed in my book paying no attention to the amber waves of grain through which we drove.

5. In the early, pre-driver's-license years of high school, my bff and I used to spend our afternoons walking the mile or so to McDonald's and to Dairy Queen. We joked about how fat we'd be once we got our licenses. No joke.

6. My senior year of high school, Maggie and I were on the yearbook committee together. During our long hours of haggling with printers and designing stupendous pages, we dined primarily on pancakes, goldfish crackers and Slurpees.

7. The summer after my freshman year of college, the aforementioned non-bet-paying friend and I decided to lose weight by running every night, ironically at the same track where Maggie and I have risen to greatness. We "ran" about a mile every night, then went to TCBY for frozen yogurt. Every night. Wonder why we didn't get skinny?

8. The fall of my junior year, I took 20 credit hours, all of which were senior-level classes. I stopped sleeping and built myself a fortress of books in the basement study room in my dorm. My study buddy and I subsisted during this time on a highly energizing diet of oatmeal, Coca-Cola and Pixie Sticks.

9. After I graduated from college, I was working at a bookstore, in love with a highly unsuitable individual, and anxious about fitting into my bridesmaid's dress for the New Year's Eve wedding of the aforementioned study buddy. I lost 18 pounds in four weeks on a diet of Barnes & Noble coffee and acute self-loathing. (Then quickly regained them - thrice - during the alcohol-based exploration of unsuitable relationship and alcohol-soaked attempt at recovery from its dissolution.)

10. This summer, a friend and I had a garage sale and my brother came along to help us out. Halfway through the day, we became ravenous and left him to mind the shop while we went for pizza. We returned with pizza. Three of them, to be exact. A whole pizza for each of us. I guess sharing is just too hard.

There you go! The Sharon-centric version of Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs. I bet you're shocked I remained a relatively normal weight until the last year and a half. And I bet you're shocked that I'm shrinking.

Weigh-In: UGH!

2009-10-02T08:52:00.006-04:00

NOT HAPPY about what I saw on the scale this morning:

177.5

?!?!?!?!?!?

Gained FOUR AND A HALF POUNDS this week?! How is that possible when I'm looking skinnier and skinnier and getting into clothes that have been gathering dust for YEARS?!! If you've seen the awesomely hilarious movie 'Just Friends,' imagine Anna Faris' Britney Spears parody when she squawks, "NOT - HAPPY!" and that will portray my emotions.

I had just taken the scale out of the box, so I stormed around fuming for a few seconds, then Maggie showed up and we ran four miles (in the rain - admire our dedication, please!), then I came back and read the scale instructions and found out I had to push this little calibration button on the underneath. Then I weighed again and saw this: 174.5.

And then I weighed 6 more times and saw this every time: 174.5.

So that's my final answer.

Several things could be happening here:
1. Last week's 2-pound loss on the wonky scale was a lie and I lost nothing, then lost one pound this week.
2. Last week's 2-pound loss on the wonky scale was a lie and I only lost half a pound last week, half a pound this week.
3. Last week's 2-pound loss on the wonky scale was true, and I regained a pound this week.

Number 3 is distressing and surprising but not inconceivable. Last weekend when my friends were visiting, I did pretty well on portion control but definitely ate much fattier foods with more empty calories than I'm used to. And I drank a lot of calories - less than in my past life, but way more than a skinny girl needs to stay skinny.

Then, during this week, I've drastically upped the running but am still pretty low in the calories. My official goal on SparkPeople.com is 1500-1800, but I often don't quite hit it, or just barely. I think 1300-1400 calories is probably just not enough to support a 5-foot-ten-inch girl with big boobs who's running 3+ miles four times a week. I'm betting the combination of a fat weekend and a strenuous week just did a number on my metabolism.

Regardless of the whys and wherefores, no progress has been made in the weight department, and I'm not happy about that. I'm still ten pounds away from Mini-Goal 1, 165 by 10-23. So today I will stay on track with the eating and not allow myself to slack off and have treats like I usually do on Fridays. I will save my treats for when I go to Maggie's for a yummy Sunday-afternoon lunch.

This is my plan for this week:
-Stay on top of water drinking (this has been a busy week, so I've gotten distracted and probably only have about three 32. oz bottles a day compared to my usual fourish).
-Plan meals to hit 1,600-1,700 worthwhile calories a day without fail.
-Keep running (8 days till Operation 10K by 10-10!)
-Keep smiling.

This is Why I Love My Friend Emily

2009-10-01T13:06:00.006-04:00

Exactly what I needed to "hear" (via g-chat, of course) today, and maybe you need to remember some of it, too:

Emily: a temporary setback is just temporary

you are moving to new york

there's no stopping you.

me: :-|

Emily: if the date changes, that's okay.

me: or maybe it's a stupid idea and i'm hubristic

Emily: it doesn't make you a failure

dude

i can think of like six people with WAY stupider ideas.

me: haha

Emily: and none of them are Kanye. so that makes seven.

the thing is - YOU don't do stupid things

you are a reasonable, fun, attractive, empowered adult.

this is the life you are choosing for yourself.

i'm all about that right now

i know several people who are living shitty lives by their own choosing

i have to remember that I get to choose a good life

that i can't control or change themand that they absolutely have my support and encouragement if they take even the tiniest step towards happiness.

you. bah. no worries. you're already taking those steps [10k of them] towards your own happiness.

so ROCK ON

also, i've decided to stop shampooing my hair so often.

I can choose my life.

I can't control events, but I can choose my response, and I am in charge of my next action.

Thanks, Portland <3

(She's running a 5K next weekend. She's fast and has great hair and I adore her.)

Biggest Loser

2009-09-30T11:39:00.006-04:00

While I was coloring my hair the other night, I watched The Biggest Loser for the first time ever. I always avoided it in the past because I didn't want to feel conflicted about my habits. I didn't want to feel guilty about the crap I was eating. I didn't want to feel shamed that people with a much bigger weight loss challenge than mine were so dedicated and brave and willing to sweat, while I was whiny and unwilling to face my emotional issues or inconvenience my lazy lifestyle.

Well. Now it's a different story. It was so motivational. If someone that weighs 400 pounds can finish their workout, even if they're beet-red and sobbing, I sure can go the distance on my runs.

During one competition for bonus points or something, the contestants were all talking about the importance of finishing even after one team won. They emphasized in their individual interviews how their appearance on the show was about more than a single outcome - it was about learning habits, making each individual wise choice and sticking to a disciplined course over time. They each kept saying, "This is about changing my ideas of my limitations. This is about fixing my body and learning to expect more of it. This is about becoming the person I've always wanted to be. It isn't about winning. This is about living." That's something I can remember for Operation 10K by 10-10. I shouldn't just focus on being able to say, "I ran a 10K!" It's about motivating myself for every day that I run, it's about tackling new challenges to strengthen my muscles and expand my ambitions. It's ok to be slow, it's ok to walk, but it's not ok to quit.

I really dislike the female trainer on the show, but I enjoyed the male trainer's pep talks. At one point, he was making a girl to run sprints on the treadmill without gripping the handrails. She was panting and crying and keeps yelling that she can't, and he keeps yelling back, "Yes you can! Yes you can!" Having recently learned to push through the moment when your mind underestimates what your body can do, and how important it is to have that second voice in your head telling you to keep going when you think you have to stop, I could understand why he was being so hard on her, and I was excited to see her listen to him and learn that for herself.

I couldn't help comparing this show to the other fat-people-based reality show that I've seen recently. These contestants are a world apart from the More to Love contestants. The Biggest Loser cast members are not happy with their bodies, but they're doing something about it in a way that encourages them to value themselves the way they are right now while being brave enough to set bold goals for improvement. The More to Love contestants seemed trapped by life, seem to have accepted a victimized position, given up, and grabbed on to the love-me-as-I-am mantra without actually loving themselves. A good distinction to remember on a day when I'm sorely tempted to dissolve into petulant self-pity - I'd rather be a Big Loser, red hair and all.

***

Firey

2009-09-30T09:25:00.011-04:00

Last night I was feeling sad and scared about a family situation that might also affect my exciting plans for the near future. I wanted to eat. I REALLY wanted to eat. I wanted pizza, specifically, warm cheesy grease-laden pizza with a crispy garlic crust.

But I didn't want to eat feelings. I didn't want to pour extra calories and fatty carbs into this machine during Operation 10K by 10-10. So I binged at the beauty store. I bought hair color, new shampoo, new face-wash and toner - all stuff I need, magic potions to make me feel pretty and pampered.

And I dyed my hair red. It was supposed to be dark with auburn glints, but the blonde left in my hair from an identity crisis a year ago grabbed on to the color, and now it's a sort of bright-dark pinkish red. Maroon. I look like a clown. But soon I will be a skinny, speedy clown. Better to have red hair than a fat pizza ass.

We'll just pretend that my hair turned out like this:

Instead of these:

And while we're at it, we can pretend that my face and skin and body look like the first picture, too, and that I am as poised and gracious and elegant. Deal?

P.S. Speaking of Operation 10K by 10-10...we ran 4 miles this morning. THAT'S RIGHT! FOUR MILES! I almost didn't realize how awesome that is, because I'm so focused on the 6.2-mile mark, until Maggie pointed out that that's a mile farther than we've ever run before. HOT!

And we were running on surface streets, instead of at the track. Measured laps on soft asphalt has its great place in the world...but after so many times around and around you start to feel like a wind-up toy. Running out in the world is better training for race conditions, plus it's more interesting - especially when you run in the main road in lanes that are closed for construction, offering obstacles, odd terrain and a thrilling feeling of rebellious adventure.

***

Tara Grant 5K: Double the Torture, Double the Fun!

2009-09-28T11:36:00.013-04:00

Our second 5K = way way harder and way, way funner. This is a long report with lots of pictures, so if you don't feel like reading it all, here's the CliffNotes version: Race course was designed by terrorists; I thought I was going to barf, but didn't; thought I was going to die, but didn't; thought I would quit, but didn't; thought I would never finish, but did.

It was exciting to be at a bigger event with more sponsors' tents, people with dogs and strollers milling around and runners warming up all over the picnic grove. And it was fun to move to the finish line with a big pack of racers. It was fun to hear a starting horn and take off across the grass, wind around trees, and head down the trail into the woods.

Trail running over grass and dirt paths is a very different beast from the soft asphalt track or the pavement at the cemetery. It was psychologically intimidating because I was nervous about the tripping and wrenching hazards of unpredictable terrain. But it was fun to run on twisty tree-lined paths, in and out of the woods, around the lake, past the swans, out into the clearings and down into the woods again.

Fun, that is, until I realized what it meant if we were heading down into the woods: at some point we would be heading up. Just as I was getting my groove on, calming my pace and adjusting to the twig-spattered paths, the hills began to pop up in front of me.

Let me just say, this race made me think of the soft inclines of my cemetery 5K with heartbroken fondness. Those "hills" intimidated me at the time, but after the mountainous trails at Stony Creek Metropark, I would trade my hypothetical firstborn child for Mt. Olivet's gentle slopes.

The hills were steep and unceasing, which was exhilirating at first, until I realized how frequently we were running up and down, up and down, up and down, and I began to get seriously freaked about how much race was stretching out in front of me. But the trails were full of runners, and it was energizing to slowly gain on and pass people, even when they were just taking a walking break. When we hit the first mile marker, a guy with a stopwatch announced our time: just over 11 minutes, meaning we were faster than usual despite the hills.

At about the halfway point, we rounded back on the picnic area where the race was headquartered, and I was feeling seriously drained and discouraged about the hills. I felt slow as mud and I couldn't catch my breath, and, as Maggie spurted ahead of me and grabbed some water, I saw the trail climb upwards yet again, and I decided I was about to throw up.

Then I saw a clump of people cheering at the top of that damn hill, one of whom was my brother with his camera pointed in my direction, and I realized it was unacceptable to vomit during a photo op, so I slowed a little, focused on breathing evenly and charged on, hoping that the second half of the race was on level ground.

Nope. Still hills and more of them. I thought I was going to die. I was now far behind Maggie, still couldn't quite catch my breath, wasn't quite sure how my legs were still pumping, and I started to feel completely overwhelmed by the rhythm of staggering up each hill and careening down the other side. I decided that not being stubborn was better than not being alive, so I gave myself a strategic walking break. Lo and behold, no one emerged from the woods to make fun of me! Forest creatures didn't gather around me chattering and jeering! The world continued turning! I powerwalked until my breathing felt a bit more regular and I felt in control of my own motion up and down - probably half a minute or less. Then I ran on.

It was discouraging how quickly I hit the wall again. There were no other runners in sight behind or ahead of me, just endless trees and endless goddamn hills. I ran probably a quarter of a mile before I again felt like crying and dying. I slowed to a speedwalk and actually thought about excuses that would make it ok to crumple at the edge of the path and not run anymore or move from the fetal position at all, ever again. But then I told myself that walking was ok, limping was ok, crawling prostrate like a wounded soldier behind enemy lines was ok, but stopping was not. As long as forward motion was happening, I was still a runner. So, just before my breathing was completely comfortable again, I picked my pace back up to a run, rounded a clump of shrubbery...and the finish line came into view.

I felt like Dante when he emerged to see once more the stars, except I was escaping nearly 3 miles of woodsy moutains, and all he did was journey to the bottom of hell and crawl out through Satan's bowels. I could see the finish line! That's it; no more walking, not while I'm out here in the open where timekeepers and news vans can see me. The finish line is right there; I can run to it, no problem, and then I can lie down in the grass and pass out.

Except NOT! Because the sadistic race designers' mothers never hugged them or took them to Disneyland so they squeezed ten or eleven extra miles into the last segment by winding their godforsaken stripe of white paint around every individual tree, ditch or blade of grass. I could see the finish line, and I was still running, but I wasn't reaching it!

As I wandered obediently along the course, my piece of race looped near Maggie, who looked much farther away from death's door than I felt - for example, her head was still erect at the top of her neck, whereas I was dragging mine behind me by the ponytail. She waved and smiled and sauntered on, and then as I staggered around a stupid little tree, I saw a group of runners coming out of the woods, and encouraged myself that at least I wouldn't be the very last person to finish. Granted, one of them was wearing a knee brace, but at that point I would've been proud to beat toddling infants or the limbless knight from Monty Python.

Then, as I ran through the final straight stretch of grass before the finish line, I heard heavy breathing and pounding behind me. The clump of laggers flew by me at a dead sprint. I half expected to see bears or zombies behind them, they were running so fast. Even leg-brace girl. I felt forlorn, but there was no way I could pick up my pace at all. So I staggered across the finish line just behind them, pretending that the shrieks and cheers from their waiting supporters were actually really for me.

Yeah. I crossed the finish line. On my own two legs. Running. Pretty awesome. True, I could barely see, and it took me about ten minutes to find Maggie and Noah. But I finished! And I wasn't the very last - to my great shock, I only added 2 minutes to my time.

Maggie: 36.31
Sharon: 37.38

And Maggie finished second in her age category and was recognized at the awards ceremony!! Woot! (I finished ninth in mine. Haha.)

So this 5K was a lot harder, physically and mentally, than Mt. Olivet. I'm really glad we had such a carefree event for our first experience, because if Tara Grant had been first, I would have been freaked out and probably wouldn't be doing a 10K in two weeks (which, by the way, I decided was a terrible idea halfway through the race, and an awesome idea 20 minutes after crossing the finish line when I was eating hot dogs and drinking Sunny D.) I felt so much even more proud of us after this race, because it had been so damn hard! I feel ok that I lost time, ok that I took walking breaks, because I know my body absolutely needed them, and I kept going instead of quitting when I felt defeated. And I felt good of being a part of the day, especially while I was listening to Tara's sister talk about the ways we can take a stand against domestic abuse in our own little corners of life.

This is about 48 seconds after crossing the finish line - our facial expressions convulse me.

And I'm still excited for Operation 10K by 10-10. I wasn't as shaky after the race as I had expected, nor even very sore on Sunday. If the course hadn't been so hilly, I would've shaved a bit off my time and probably had some run left in my legs at the finish line. So Mags and I are excited about being hard core these next two weeks - ran 3.25 miles this morning, which I realized is actually MORE than a 5K! So we're going to keep upping our distances by bits...and praying that the 10K course will be flat as a pancake!

Thanks to my brother Noah for coming along to cheer and photograph us.

Fun fact: he got out of a work meeting when he told his boss he was coming to watch me "run a marathon." Maggie and I almost died laughing when he told us that, and then explained the 22-mile difference between a 5K and marathon. It feels good to know, though, that somewhere in metro Detroit, a Potbelly Sandwich Works manager thinks that we are marathoners. Will that ever be true? Who knows...

Weigh-In: -?-

2009-09-25T08:34:00.005-04:00

I think I hate the new scale I got.

When I tried to weigh myself this morning, it kept flashing the error message. I kept hopping on and off (as much as anyone can hop at 5:23 am EST), hoping that the three dotted lines would change to a number instead of an "E." I finally persuaded it to show me something definitive: 173.6. Yay! Two pounds lost!

But then I tried again for confirmation, and got 175.0. And then I got 175.3. And then 173.0.

So I'm going with the first one. I'm claiming those two pounds, because I'm pretty sure I'm skinnier. My jeans have been too big for a while, but today they're almost unwearable. Today is a day for lunchtime shopping - new jeans (cheap ones, since I'm hoping they won't fit for very long!), plus fruit, yogurt, oatmeal and chicken. And sometime between now and next Friday I'll buy a new scale, and hope that it supports my decision to claim those two possibly lost pounds!

This weekend will be a fun and busy one. Tomorrow is my second 5K. I'm pretty excited, because I think it will be a bigger event than the last one. Also domestic violence prevention is a cause very close to me, so I think it will be heartening and motivational to run through the sunshine with a bunch of other people who really care about fighting for the victims.

Then my good friends Trinity and Deb will be in town from Grand Rapids for the second half of the weekend. I look forward to basking vainly in their admiration, since the last time I saw them was my very fattest point - the weekend of this picture:

(That's Trin on the far right.
I love her even though she's skinny.)

Saturday night we will be party hopping, including a fab birthdaytacular for ohRebecca! And Sunday I am going to a lovely Sunday lunch at Maggie's. So it will be a busy weekend full of opportunities to make wise social eating and social drinking choices - yikes. And I look forward to expanding my collection of happy healthy shrinking progress pics!

***

Paint it Black

2009-09-24T08:48:00.006-04:00

Until today, the animal I hate most in the world was the squirrel.

Until today.

This morning at the track, Maggie and I had a Close Encounter of the Skunk Kind, and barely escaped with our lives.

Day 1 of Operation 10K by 10-10 got off to a great start. We got to the track a good half hour earlier than usual, pumped up to run at least 3 miles, no compromises. Then, as we rounded the north bend on our first lap, I noticed a plastic bag at the edge of the grass in the center of the track. It was moving gently along the ground, blown by an imperceptible wind. Huh, I thought to myself. Funny how the way that bag is moving kind of makes it look like a little animalllllllOHMYGOD.

It was a little animal. It was a skunk. And not a debonair, Pepe LePew kind of skunk. This was a fat, waddling, unattractive skunk.

I reacted with my usual aplomb, the grace under pressure which never fails to keep me calm and effective in sudden crisis. ohmygodohmygodohmygod, I hissed articulately, continuing to run but sidling sideways, into Maggie, and edging her to the farthest lane of the track. "What? What?" was her understandably confused reply. There. There. It!

Then she saw it, and we ran helter-skelter the rest of the way to the bleachers, where we stood panting and whimpering and trying to be adults. It's just a skunk. It's probably more scared of us than we are of it. It's probably used to runners being here. It's probably just going back into its burrow to sleep all day. We'll be fine. Let's keep going.

So we set off running again with trepidation. When we reached the north bend once more, things got even more horrible. What is worse than seeing a skunk? Not seeing a skunk. It was inexplicably dreadful to know a skunk was nearby...somewhere. We booked it back to the bleachers and whimpered some more, wishing our moms were there to tell us what to do. Should we run on unlit neighborhood streets? Which is worse - to be blasted by a skunk or to trip and break a nose? Should we ignore the skunk and keep running? Are we mice or men?

Another lady showed up to power walk and we informed her of the dire situation. She chuckled unfazedly, which shamed boldness into us. We ran on, powered by surges of adrenaline whenever a star would shift a new spot of light onto the track, or a passing headlight gleamed off the hurdles. Everything looked like a skunk, but nothing was, and we almost forgot it.

Then, as we finished Mile 2, we heard the power-walker yelling, "It's over there by you! By the fence!" I lost several pounds of pure terror in the 3 seconds between hearing her words and whipping my head around to sight the skunk. Yes. It was right by us. We ran the rest of that lap like the refugees ran for the last helicopter out of Saigon. I may have been crying. And when we reached the bleachers again, I announced, "We're done. That skunk has won today."

I'm not sure what the game plan will be for next time, but I plan to spend the weekend cooking up anti-skunk-terrorism strategies. Tomorrow we're taking a good long power walk, to give ourselves an off-day before the 5K on Saturday. But Monday we'll be back out on the track at 5:30 am, charging along with Operation 10K by 10-10. The skunk better not be there. If he is, he will be very very sorry.

10K by 10-10

2009-09-23T15:41:00.004-04:00

As you may have inferred from today's earlier post, this is a much better day. So much better that I'm not obsessing about yesterday's horrifyingly bad eating decisions. So much better, in fact, that I signed up for a 10K.

Yes.

That's right.

A 10K. On October 10.

Omg! That's so soon! That's so scary! That's twice as far as you've ever run before! Omg! Why!

Why? Well, why not!

I think having an event in the future is important for helping me stay disciplined. I want to continue my healthy eating habits. I want keep losing this weight. I want to get strong and fast and brave. But all of those wants need if you don't today lighting the fire under them. I need to be working towards something I'm not sure if I can do.

I know I can make consistent wise eating choices. I know I can prioritize workouts and cooking time and sleep. I've done the work to learn these habits. I need a new scary thing. I need something big and scary to keep rousting me out of bed hours before the sun shows up, to keep pushing me to run a bit farther than is comfortable. I need that excited fear burning in my mind...you could sleep...but you need to run. you could stop, you could walk...but you want to run.

And I want to do a 10K NOW. I don't want to wait for spring. I want to do it now while I still have an awesome running buddy. I want to do it now before I move to a new city where I don't know where to find anything. I want to do it now before the cold sets in. I want to see a check mark next to this big and scary thing. That check mark will stand between me and how I used to be. If I work hard for a 10K, I can't get lazy, make excuses during the long icy months, because I will want to hold on to that accomplishment. I won't want today's laziness to waste October's sweat. The bigger, scarier the challenge, the more I'll protect my success.

And Michigan doesn't offer too many late-October events. There weren't any races in a reasonable driving distance on the 17th or the 24th. So we signed up for a 10K on October 10.

10K by 10-10. We have 20 days. We're going to be getting up earlier and running farther. It's going to be awesome.

P.S. Shweeeeet giveaway on a blog with a hilarious header. I want that kitchen scale!

***

2009-09-23T11:51:00.003-04:00

"Finish each day
And be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and
Absurdities have crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can."

-Emerson

Yesterday: cookies, movie popcorn, Coca-Cola.

Today: Brand-new.

***

Lesson of the Day

2009-09-22T13:14:00.008-04:00

Today, I'm feeling sad and angry and lonely and blue and cold and weak and tired and grumpy and rude and scared.

I know I feel sad and angry and lonely and blue and cold and weak and tired and grumpy and rude and scared for temporary, biological reasons.

I know that indulging my desire for gross fat empty sugary carbs won't fix sad or angry or lonely or blue or cold or weak or tired or grumpy or rude or scared. I know healthy foods, good runs and great weigh-ins make me feel happy and hopeful and friendly and pink and warm and strong and energized and pleasant and gracious and hopeful.

Nevertheless, I just ate two dinner-plate-sized chocolate chip cookies.

Now I feel sad and angry and lonely and blue and cold and weak and tired and grumpy and rude and scared...and sick.

If hunger isn't the problem, food isn't the answer. Not even chocolatey food.

***

Exciting Announcement: Mini-Goals!

2009-09-21T17:15:00.005-04:00

I have set some mini-goals to help keep me on-track through the second-half of my weight loss project. I've formed great, strong habits, but between now and my goal date, I have some special events coming up, as well as a scary/exciting move to a new city. These mini-goals will, I think, help me stay the course. So take a look and tell me what you think:

Today, September 21: 175 pounds

October 23 - my last weekend in Michigan, which will include one friend's wedding and another friend's awesome casino birthday party: 165

November 26 - Thanksgiving, when I will probably be traveling from my new home in NYC to be with my college bff Jenn and her family in Ohio for National Fat-&-Happy Day: 155

December 31 - New Year's Eve, when several of my dearest friends from all over the country will be coming to NYC to welcome 2010 (and celebrate my new successful, healthy, happy self!): 145-GOAL!

I think this will be a great help to me. Mini-goals in increments of ten pounds, spaced about a month apart, with clear-cut events defining their terminus. I can do it!

First Ever 5K: WIN!

2009-09-21T09:37:00.014-04:00

That's me, at the finish line!! I did it! Ran the whole race at a steady pace, no walking, no passing out, no puking. Just running!

(Good thing it's a still, so you can't tell how much my legs are shaking!)

Mount Olivet Sunrise Run = super fun. Here we are, bleary-eyed but excited, before the race:

I was very excited about my Official Race Hat, even though I couldn't quite figure out how to make it fit right around my ponytail.

We got to the race pretty early, having no idea what to expect, so we ended up with plenty of time to mill around warming up and photographing ourselves. Here's us being very proud to wear Official Race Numbers!

It was very exciting to run in an Official Race, with a Starting Line and a Finish Line and Mile Markers and Water Stations and everything! The event seemed pretty small - I'd estimate fewer than 50 runners, a lot of whom seemed to know each other. It was a great introduction to races. I wasn't intimidated at all!

The first two miles of the race went just fine. The course wound around the beautiful cemetery, and it was a crisp sunny day, so I really enjoyed myself. But I was not prepared for the HILLS! There weren't many of them, and they weren't huge...but they existed!

I was thinking very carefully the whole time about running smoothly and at my normal pace. I'm pretty sure I was going a little faster than usual, but not by enough to crash and burn. And as we entered the second mile, I could definitely tell that the difference between running on the flat track and running on the cemetery roads, with its bends and inclines and turns and slopes.

We entered the final mile and my legs felt heavy and my lungs were straining. But I told myself, ok, four more laps. That's nothing. You can do it. And Maggie gave me a peptalk in her best Barack Obama voice, so I ran on. A few paces further on, my legs got a second wind, which I announced to Maggie - just as we headed up another hill. Ack! But I just plodded onward.

And that was the longest mile of my life. I was so tired! And every time we came around a curve, I looked and looked for the finish, and it was never there! But I was determined not to slow to a walk this close to the end, unless I puked or saw spots or something. I could tell I was still fine even though I was tired, and I really wanted to run the whole way, because I knew I could. My legs could do it as long as my mind didn't betray them.

Then we passed a friendly guy standing at the side of the road who said "you're doing great, girls! The finish line is three minutes ahead!" and I thought to myself mother of god. There's no way I can keep going for three minutes. Open up one of these graves, I'm ready to get in. And then I heard from somewhere way way ahead of me, Maggie saying, "pssht, that's the shortest 3 minutes I've ever heard of," and I looked up and saw the Finish Banner. Almost there! So I just charged right on until I was running under it! And then through the ropes towards the Official Timing Clock and Timer's Table! Woot!

Official Time:
Maggie: 35.33.3
Sharon: 35.42.9

Here is Maggie in all her post-race awesomeness.

She beat me by a good 10 seconds! Go Maggie!

But I am proud to report that I did not come in very last. We had started near the back of the little gaggle of racers, but not the very last. Some people passed us, but we passed some people, like the lady with a jogging stroller and two preschoolers - who were fricking adorable in their matching track suits, by the way! And another lone runner had been a bit ahead of us for much of the course, but then slowed up to talk to the guy who lied about the time to the finish line, so we finished a bit ahead of her, too.

The advantage of picking a very small event for your first 5K: you show up in the final standings!

Maggie was 14th overall and second in the 20-24 category; I was 15th overall and 2nd in the 25-29 category. Yay for increasing my Googleability!

The other runners and the race organizers were so pleasant and friendly, and made me really excited to continue doing more events and races - sure, there were the super-serious runners in spandex huffing around pre-race and shooting off towards the horizon. But there were also families running together, people of all ages - a great spirit of fun and excitement and mutual cheering-on! It was fun to scoop up bananas and apples afterwards and listen to everyone chatting about what they're training for, what they've done recently and what they have planned for next year.

This is me with my hands full of post-race goodies, standing proudly in front of the ambulance whose services I did not need:

I am so proud of us for finishing, for running the whole time and for having so much fun. We are super excited for our second 5K this Saturday, which is a more publicized event locally, and will probably have more runners. And - brace yourselves - we even talked about working towards a 10K in a few months - GASP! Look at us! We're awesome!

Weigh-In: Backstreet's Back, ALRIGHT!

2009-09-18T08:45:00.003-04:00

This morning, this number was proudly displayed just above my toes:

175.6

You will notice two surprising facts about this number. The first being that it is nearly 5 pounds smaller than last week's number - !!!!! Everybody rock your body!!! This means I kept off the two pounds I lost on the two successful fruit flush days...and then lost 2 and a half more! This means my body must like the extra calories I've been giving it - even if those are sometimes coming from wine and cookies, instead of sweet potatoes and granola.

The second surprising fact is that the number includes tenths of a pound. If you inferred by this that I purchased a new scale, pat yourself on the back. I have had concerns about the legitimacy of my old analog scale, which stemmed from noticing that the dial was tilted in the viewing window, and because I kept having to mark the zero's position with a Sharpie. So I wandered around Wal-Mart last night for 20 minutes until I found an employee, who found the scales.

I made my brother weigh himself to test the scale's accuracy, since I didn't want to cheat-weigh 12 hours early. Despite his steady diet of corndogs, CornPops and Hawaiian Punch, and his recent complaints that he's getting "tubby," he weighed in at over 20 pounds lighter than I am - and then tried to explain that it's because he's 4 inches taller than me, so I shouldn't feel bad that he weighs less. No, son. That doesn't make it better. That makes it worse. So I murdered him and buried him in an empty field.

But back to the new scale - I'm not quite sure on the protocol of these strange new tenths. Even though the first number is 175, the magic 30 pounds/halfway marker, I can't count it as 30 pounds lost until that extra .6 disappears, right?

But I'm happy. Exhilirated, actually. I'm losing weight again, after two stalled weeks. And I ran 2.5 miles this morning, walked half a lap because I had a stitch, then ran the final half mile. I feel AWESOME for my race on Sunday.

So throw your hands up in the air and wave 'em around like you just don't care; If you wanna party let me hear you yell, 'cause we've got it goin' on again.

Bring It On - For Yourself!

2009-09-17T00:42:00.002-04:00

Encouraging:

Last night I went to Maggie's to bake cookies and watch a movie. I accepted her invite with trepidation, the memory of Sunday's cookie-dough binge fiasco fresh in my mind, but I also knew that today, I had no reason to overindulge - and no reason to avoid a treat. So I had two bites of raw cookie dough, two fresh warm chocolate-chip pecan cookies, and two glasses of wine. I thoroughly enjoyed the deliciousness, and stopped when I was done.

I didn't need to drink the whole bottle of wine until the haze descended to let me pretend that I was happy and worthwhile. I didn't need to sas if they were the last cookies on earth. I didn't have to shove millions of cookies down my throat because I am That Fat Girl whose main pleasure in life is food. The treats were not the central purpose of the evening - nor did my convoluted emotional response to their presence ruin the evening. I had exactly how much I wanted, enough and not too much. And when I logged their calories this morning, I was still well within my calorie range!

Discouraging:

A friend of mine was very negative to me about my 5K event this Sunday, and seemed to think it was a pointless goal that was out of reach for me. I felt hurt and depressed and defeated. It took a conscious effort to remind myself that one person's unkind opinion doesn't outweigh the positive feedback from a dozen others. And, more importantly, one person's perspective, good or bad, shouldn't affect my own confidence in what is within my power - the goals I've already accomplished, my daily experience of what my body can do and my certainty that this objective is challenging but reasonable. My voice matters as much as hers does - as much as anyone.

Encouraging:

Speaking of positive feedback...my favorite new design blog gave me kudos yesterday!

I've always enjoyed and been intrigued by the fertile results of interaction between different creative mediums, like writers studying music or musicians reflecting on sculpture - why not runners and decorators? Do-it-yourself - whether losing weight or gaining a cute house!

Plus, I've noticed that accomplishments in one sector of my life motivate improvements in others, and vice versa. Success with my healthy-lifestyle efforts make me feel excited and optimistic about going to graduate school, finishing my novel or traveling to Ireland. And today, my friend's discouragement about my race spread to my job search. If I can't run a 5K, I'll never find a job in New York. And I'll never do anything.

So it's important to be proactive about finding inspiration - like giveaways! And crazy dance moves! And weird true love! And puppies!

What unexpected sources of inspiration have you found that boost you through the blue days?

Tara Grant

2009-09-16T12:12:00.001-04:00

I just registered for ANOTHER 5K.

Turning Out to End Domestic Violence: Tara Grant Memorial Run

This is crazyness.

I remember watching the news do a little spot on the Tara Grant event last year and thinking, "wow, I wish I could do runs. That looks like so much fun. But I hate running. I can't run. Oh well."

And now I've signed up for it.

My first-ever-in-my-life-that-I-can't-believe-I'm-actually-doing 5K is in 5 days! I'm so excited! And SCARED.

But I ran 2.75 miles this morning, so I'm just a quarter of a mile away from being able to run the whole distance. And I'm going to try my darndest to run 3 full miles on Friday morning. Then I'll be ready to run 3.1 at the 5K - in front of God and all the dead people!

***

The Space Between

2009-09-15T08:23:00.002-04:00

I've been reading a brilliant book, Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. The beginning of the book is a brief memoir of his time in concentration camps; the second half of the book is a brief explanation of his theory of logotherapy - "Logotherapy...considers man as a being whose main concern consists in fulfilling a meaning and in actualizing values, rather than in the mere gratification and satisfaction of drives and instincts."

Frankl discusses the idea that suffering is inevitable, but we can choose how we respond to it and can transform its role in our lives from negative and destructive to positive and productive by seeking and then focusing on our individual mission or vocation. He emphasizes the importance of taking control of your life - not simply letting things happen to you, but actively authoring your mental and emotional response as well as your behaviorial response.*

One sentence really jumped out at me as relevant to my struggle for a healthy relationship with food:

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

It seems like an obvious, unnecessary point - but it's easy to forget that I have control over my wanting. I have to remember that I control the space between wanting to eat something** and actually putting it into my mouth - and I have to remember that denying that urge is a gift, not a deprivation. Telling myself NO can actually open up so many ways to say YES.

*I am surely horribly representing the central thesis of the book. I strongly, urgently encourage you to read it. It's very short and very clearly written, even the theoretical portion, and nearly every sentence is simple but very wise, true and informative. Skip Oprah, Dr. Phil or Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew for just one week in favor of this book. You'll thank me - preferably with money or job offers...haha. A sampling.

**Er...for example...a bowl of cookie dough that does not yet exist...

Fruit Flush Report Card

2009-09-14T13:26:00.002-04:00

Day One (protein shakes/salad dinner): A+
Day Two (fruit/salad dinner): A+
Day Three (fruit/salad dinner): F!

I only made it through the first two days of the Fruit Flush. Clearly deprivation-based diets are a bad way to go for this girl, no matter how short a duration or how worthy the goal of will-power sharpening.

Friday was just fine. I didn't enjoy the shakes at all, but they weren't intolerable, and they kept me very full all day. The hand of Satan was manifest in the form of my brother, who arrived at our apartment with a piping hot and aromatic pizza just as I came home all geared up for my huge salad and olive oil. I resisted, though, quite manfully, reminding myself how I had suffered through the shakes all day, and how stupid it would be to quit just because pizza appeared in front of me. This is not the last pizza on the planet. I can order a pizza anytime I want. I don't NEED it today. I settled down semi-grumpily to my big green tasty salad. Day One, I win.

Saturday - got up early and chowed down a banana, then met up with Mags and we walked to Panera. My pizza-strengthened will power was assailed by cinnamon crunch bagel bites, savory egg sandwiches, asiago cheese bagels...but I gritted my teeth, ordered an apple and an ice water, and marched happily homeward. Went for a run, showered, ate more fruit, headed out for my spa appointment...and got HUNGRY.

The rest of Saturday was rough. I held out until the next fruit-eating time, when I inhaled grapes and watermelon. Ate more fruit in between massage and facial. I was still hungry after every serving, no matter how much water I drank. I wanted FOOD! By the last fruit serving, I was so tired and headachy, and counted pretty much every single individual minute of the 2 hours until dinner and salad time. But I was still proud of my resolve, kept reminding myself of the ultimate goal - a cleaner, fresher body! A recharged metabolism! A happy number on the scale! Mighty unshakeable eating discipline! - and kept reminding myself that after one day of gross shakes and one day of famished torture, I could surely stick out 24 more hours before a big bowl of Monday morning oatmeal. Day Two, I win by the skin of my teeth.

Sunday morning dawns. I eat a minneola and an apple. I feel so weak and crappy. The long empty day of fruit yawns in front of me. I can't stand the thought. I don't care about my objectives. I don't care how much I've already invested in this damn Fruit Flush. I just wanted to EAT. I fight with the thought until the next fruit time. I eat a banana and a little bit of watermelon. Makes no dent in my starvation or my general feeling of hypoglycemic crisis.

I weigh myself, as a last-ditch effort to stick to the Fruit Flush. Maybe if I've lost pounds, I'll feel encouraged to stick to it. Two pounds are gone - the scale says 178, which is lower than I've seen in a year and a half. I don't even care. The loss of two pounds in two days barely even registers in my consciousness. I want food so badly. I scream SCREW THIS and rush from the bathroom to the fridge.

This is where the sh*t really hits the fan. This is where we all learn the hard, ugly, fat way just why fasting-based plans are a Terrible Horrible No-Good Very-Bad idea for me.

My original, naive, foolish plan was to careen blissfully through the Fruit Flush and then enjoy a week of goldenly wise eating. Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahahaha. No chance in hell. After one day on the restricted diet, all I wanted was delicious, fatty, unplanned, emotionally chosen treats.

I ate two pieces of leftover pizza.....mmmmmm they were like heaven sliding down a moonbounce slide to my mouth. I had a glass of Coca-Cola, too, even though it made me feel slightly sick. An hour later I made a chicken pita with spinach and cheese - not a terrible calorie choice, but definitely much more than I was hungry for. An hour after that I made a bowl of cookie dough and ate half. An hour after that I polished off the other half.

The eating of cookie dough is one of my greatest shames, as it is in no way an impulse decision. Eating a bowl of cookie dough involves at least 7-10 minutes of conscious preparation towards a terrible food choice. I have to find all the ingredients in the pantry, whisk up eggs, melt butter, measure out baking soda and vanilla, stir everything together...plenty of thinking time in which to convince myself that I don't really want this, it's not really worth it. At least I only made a fourth of a batch...but still, gross.

After the cookie dough incident I felt so full and disgusting and I didn't really eat for the rest of the day, just drank water, and then had some fruit and yogurt when I felt a little hungry in the evening. I feel ok, though. I don't hate myself. I'm ok with failing at the Fruit-Flush. I did do some growing of will-power - I didn't cave at the first weak moment. I am proud of saying NO! to Little Caesers and to Panera, because I learned it's ok to not have your favorite thing every time an opportunity presents itself, and I learned that you can have a fun time without food being the center of the activity. And I think it was important that I respected how sick my body was feeling, even if my diet-breaking choices were awful. If I ever try the Fruit Flush again, I will add a little bit of protein with each fruit serving, and I will schedule it in the middle of the week when I have a structured day to help me stay on track.

I'm not counting those two pounds as a loss, because they may have been instantly undone with the cookie-dough. For the rest of the week, I'm going to focus on healthy balanced meals and portion control, as usual, and also focus on really great runs. The 5K is just 6 days away!

Former Fat Girl of the Week

2009-09-14T09:40:00.006-04:00

Much to update about my 3-Day Fruit Flush experience...heh heh.

For now, though, I only have time to mention that Michelle (of Operation Fat Blaster fame) did me the great honor of choosing me as her Former Fat Girl of the Week at her blog, Secrets of a Former Fat Girl.

Thinking about the questions she asked me was a great prompting to live the examined life - I realized a lot about my initial motivations and how my goals evolved over the past 3 months. Also, it's quite motivating to be pegged as a Former Fat Girl, since I still have a good chunk to lose, and still think of myself as quite heavy and disgusting. So thanks, Michelle, for the opportunity to re-evaluate myself!

Check out her interview (you'll even get to see updated progress pics)!

Pity Party = Over.

2009-09-11T14:26:00.005-04:00

Thanks to y'all for your encouragement and reality checks. Getting behind on my timeline is not the end of the world. Everyone stalls. Everyone regains. But only the skinny march onward.

I decided to go ahead with my spa-day that's scheduled for tomorrow, even though it was supposed to mark 30 pounds lost, the halfway point. I'm five pounds behind that, so I was feeling kind of like it would be cheating to let myself have the reward. But then my friends* pointed out how I also have accomplished so many other, non-scale things. Things that I never would have contemplated, let alone aspired to, when I first set my weight-loss goal and chose a 30-pound reward:

I can run two miles!
I'm signed up for TWO 5ks!
I haven't canceled a single morning run, even when my pal is sick or when it's just so hard to crawl out from under the blankets!
I eat at least 5 servings of fruits and vegetables every day - and love it!
I drink tons and tons of water - and love it!
I haven't touched fast-food in weeks - and I don't miss it!

Thanks for being kind, and for being truthful, and for helping remind me that I'm actually kind of awesome, and not a total failure. I'm going ahead with my massage and haircut tomorrow, following which I will look like this, except with slightly longer hair**, greener eyes, a much bigger nose and hopefully less of a self-impressed-hipster personality:

The plan for this weekend: finally try the plateau-busting 3-Day Fruit Flush that my dear friend and skinniness-mentor Naomi swears by. Basically, I drink protein shakes*** every two hours today, then have a big huge green salad with olive oil and a bit of chicken for dinner. Tomorrow and the next day I eat a generous serving of fresh fruit every two hours, then a big salad for dinner each day. This will help me stay on track through the tricky weekend, with its long lonely hours free for bored or sad mindless eating. And I think it will re-energize my body, sharpen up my self-discipline, and set me up for a week on awesome food choices before my first 5K. And I wouldn't mind if it knocks a few extra pounds loose :D I'll let you know how it goes!

*Trinity and Naomi and Maggie and all of you!

**This morning when I hopped on the scale and saw the new, ugly, larger number, I briefly considered chopping all my hair off - that would be a 5-pound loss!

***Four down, one to go. They're not great (I don't even like milkshakes) but they're not impossible.

Weigh-In: Big Fat FAIL

2009-09-11T08:52:00.004-04:00

Weigh-in: 180.

Not only did I fail to lose...I GAINED ONE POUND.

I've never regained since I started this project. I'm horrified.

This means that I have had two consecutive weeks of failure - only lost one pound last week and gained it back this week.

I'm exactly where I was two weeks ago.

Unacceptable.

The Disney Syndrome

2009-09-10T15:40:00.004-04:00

More points to ponder from PostSecret...

Why are we willing to go to any lengths to lose weight...besides, you know, the radical approach of burning more calories than we eat...?

I've made cocaine diet jokes to my friends, mostly in jest. And I've contemplated, less jokingly, legions of "sure-fire" diet plans, from the cabbage soup diet to swallowing sponges in capsule form that swell up in your stomach so you can't eat. I've been riveted to late-night infomercials hawking machines that burn fat with 5 minutes a week, or dancercize DVDs that appear more fun than sex. I haven't seriously considered any of these crazy schemes, I haven't ordered any of these products, but they have a desperate appeal.

How great if I could just live an irrational, quite possibly dangerous existence for several weeks...and then live skinnily ever after! If only I could burn calories without strengthening my heart and muscles whatsoever, and wake up in a month with a taut, enticing stomach!

Of course, that's not the way it works. Even if you successfully stuck to a strict, freakish diet, or survive the course of sponge pills without suffocating when one gets stuck in your throat, the weight will come rushing back on as soon as you return to your old lifestyle. The only magic cure is plain old hard work. Saying no to what tastes good, saying yes to what makes you sweat.

Why are we receptive to any slenderizing scheme, as long as it's improbable and includes some element of grave risk? Why are we willing to eat anything...anything but a balanced diet of nutritious foods in moderate portions? Why are we willing to buy any exercise equipment...but not willing to sweat for an hour three times a week? Why are we so horrified at the thought of slow but steady progress?

Putting the AB in LABOR DAY

2009-09-08T14:05:00.005-04:00

Friday:

Went to Redbox to rent brainless movie.
Had several glasses of real, fizzy, sugary, delicious, obscenely satisfying, nutritionally worthless Coca-Cola over the weekend.
Had several slices of fat greasy cheesy succulent pepperoni pizza
Had several pieces of buttery garlic bread.

Saturday:

Didn't go shopping for interview clothes.
Didn't return library books.
Did weep, wail and moan through epic book purge, including one whole entire ex-boyfriend-related bookshelf cleared for sale on craigslist.
Returned to Redbox to return previous brainless movie and rent new ones.
Bought lots of fresh fruit during aforementioned trip to Redbox.
Didn't buy Cheez-Its or ice cream sandwiches during aforementioned trips to Redbox.
Resisted urge to make chocolate chip cookies and eat the whole batch.
Resisted urge to make chocolate chip cookie dough and eat it all without baking.
Watched college football while doing weak little girl push-ups.
Resisted second urge to to make chocolate chip cookies and eat the whole batch.
Resisted third, fourth and fifth urge to to make chocolate chip cookies and eat the whole batch.
Went on awesome late-night almost-4-mile run with remarkably little walking.
Aforementioned run took me past favorite pizza place, favorite fried chicken place, favorite Thai food place, favorite Chinese place, favorite Taco Bell, favorite french-fries place, 3 favorite freezie-Coke places and 4 favorite bars. Didn't go into any. Just ran on.

Sunday

Made delicious turkey chili and ate several bowls with nutrionally worthless Ritz crackers
Took daily Redbox pilgrimage.
Ate buckets and buckets and buckets of watermelon.
Reorganized DVD collection.
Washed 3 loads of laundry including bathrobe and bedspread.
Ate big bowl of fresh corn-off-the-cob.

Monday

Got up for regular run with regular buddy at regular time.
Ran half a mile, wussed out, and took 4 mile walk for coffee and long chat.
Organized closets for 3 hours.
Delivered rejects to Salvation Army.
Laughed way through giant box of baby pics, childhood diaries, graduation cards and college papers.
Cleaned kitchen, bathroom and living room.
Lay on floor complaining about stiff back.
Watched Jeopardy while doing wimpy girl push-ups.
Read library books while eating grapes.
Packed lunch.
Went to bed.

There's my exciting and riveting Labor Day weekend. /Sigh/ I don't have high hopes for this week's weigh-in.

BUT!

I'm going to see BRITNEY SPEARS tonight! I'm so excited!!!! If she can get fat, skinny, fat, fatter, knocked up, skinny, knocked up, crazy, fat, crazier, fatter, skinny, buff, etc., and still sell out stadiums, I can have one uneventfully lazy long weekend! HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!

2009-09-04T15:47:00.001-04:00

Does it make me a total healthnut freakazoid if I actually totally like carrot sticks with cottage cheese?

Because I do.

Weigh-In: The 70s Are Groovy

2009-09-04T08:37:00.003-04:00

One pound lost! I'm in the 170s! This is familiar territory - this is where I've camped for much of my post-college life. I can be happy here for the next few weeks - but I'm setting up a tent, not building a house. I wish the scale had slid a little further into the 170s...maybe I need to up my calories? I'm very comfortable at 1200-1300, but I don't want to send my metabolism into starvation mode.

I had no running buddies this morning - but I went anyway. I am much more self-conscious when I run by myself. I feel my bum jiggling behind me, and worry about the gravitational effect of its bounce knocking the earth's rotation off kilter. I worry that I will have a stroke and, with no one there to notice when I collapse, and I will lie dead and rotting until squirrels come to nibble at my fetid corpse.

Fortunately none of those things happened this morning. It was very dark and not quite dawny, and the moon was large and close and glowing - every time I rounded the north end of the track, it was a little duller, a little lower, and the sky around it lightening a little more towards peach. It was cold enough that the geese were speaking to each other plaintively, and the mist from the grass crept up to meet my visible breath.

I ran two miles for only the second time ever. I was listening to LeftRightLeftRight, Coldplay's live album, and pretending that the crowd was screaming and cheering for ME.

This Is A Vain Post.

2009-09-03T14:13:00.006-04:00

That was the expression on my boss' face yesterday, when she said, "You look great today - skinnier. Have you lost some weight?" and I responded, "Yes, 25 pounds and counting!"

Today I walked into her office where she was meeting with our web designer, and they both paused to discuss with each other how great I've been looking. My boss mentioned the magic 25 number and our web designer's face looked like this:

It feels great to have my coworkers noticing (and envying...and asking, in just TWO months? HOW did you do it?!). They see me all day, every day, so the change must be dramatic for them to notice. And then I get to say, "Guess what - there's a big secret to losing weight: eat healthy foods in healthy portions and get a healthy amount of exercise." It feels great to have people marvel that I get up before dawn to run every day. It feels great when the print designer walks by and says, "You always have the best-smelling, yummy-looking food! you're always eating veggies and they actually look so great!" It feels great to be the trailblazer instead of standing fat and wistful at the side.

Most of all, it feels great to know these changes have been so much smoother than I ever thought - not easy, but not impossible. Habits formed more quickly than I ever thought. Resolve grew muscles. And the payoffs started so quickly and in so many more ways than just the numbers on the scale or the glow of compliments.

I know when they say, "you've been looking so great," it doesn't just mean, "thank god you're not as fat anymore." It's also because my skin is clearer, and my hair is shinier, and my eyes are brighter, and I have a smile on my face and a bounce in my step - I'm proud of myself and I can't wait to put more and more wins behind that smile.

One Art

2009-09-01T08:32:00.001-04:00

I came across my Elizabeth Bishop last night during an epic, soul-harrowing book purge and the volume fell open to this very dog-eared page. It's been a favorite since college, and frequently dug out during various dark times...and now that life seems brighter, I discovered a reason to love it all over again...losing! Enjoy.

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.  Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel.  None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch.  And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.  And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

I Think I Am Officially A Runner Now.

2009-08-31T09:17:00.004-04:00

Yesterday morning I woke up to a cool sunshiney Sunday, and I felt like running. So Carrson* and I headed out.

I think it's good for me to go by myself sometimes, to implant the idea that it's something I can do, even if Maggie's not there. Running isn't just something we do; it's something I do. I ran the streets around my apartment, and kept setting my "stop-and-walk" point a little bit ahead, just a little bit farther, just a little bit farther. Well. I just measured my route on gmap pedometer...and I ran 1.79 miles before my first walking break!! And a total of 3 miles in whole! This means the 5K in a month is totally doable. Totally. I'm pumped.

And this morning with Maggie I ran 2 miles. In a row. With no walking! My goal was 1.5 (because I wasn't sure how far I went on my Sunday run) and when I was finishing up the 6th lap, I thought, I can do one more. And I did. And then as I neared the finish again I thought, if I do just one more, that will be two miles. I can totally do that. I totally can. Go! And I did. I RAN TWO MILES! Booyah!

I am unstoppable.

*My ipod. Currently listening to: Ear to the Ground - Detroit.

Weigh-In: 25 Gone! (But Do Elephants Ever Forget?)

2009-08-28T09:03:00.007-04:00

I bounced back with sass! Thanks for all your encouragement and cheerleader comments this week - it pays off to keep each other full of pep and on-track!

Weigh-in this morning showed 4 pounds gone this week, more than making up for last week's disappointing 1-pound. Sure, I didn't earn it all - a good 2 pounds of that is probably natural post-girl time shedding. But I surely earned at least the other 2! AND this puts me at 25 total pounds lost! I'm doing a subtle little celebration dance here in my desk chair!

I think those 25 pounds are the desk-job weight, put on since I left Barnes & Noble for this sitting-and-typing job in May 2008, and the next 25 are the heartbreak weight. I've read about fat cells storing elements of LSD or other drugs, so that people losing weight decades after they've had their fun suddenly start tripping out when they hit the fat cells created during their substance use.

I hope fat cells don't also store emotion. I don't want to be suddenly flooded with betrayal, rejection, despair, self-hatred, insecurity, as the fat cells created during that awful time are blasted by cardio. I don't want to be running through the dawn and suddenly roll into a trembling, intoxicating ball of suicidal misery, paralyzed by the fall-out of my own poor choices and bad taste in who to trust and love. I don't want to be ambushed by a failure trip. Those atoms can stay locked. I hope they melt away peacefully, all at once, taking their stored devastation with them.

On to the next 25!

We have a new layout to enjoy, with a leader picture from last winter - not quite at my fattest, and deceptively skinny-looking thanks to body angle and armfuls of stuff. I chose it because it's a funny demonstration of my old mindset - my brother and I came upon this statue at an art museum, and his shot perfectly captures my previous mocking distaste for (which was really depressed fear of) athletic pursuits. Not anymore! I am now that tired athlete! Sort of...ever onward!

The U.S. (Unstoppable Sharon) Does Not Negotiate With Terrorists

2009-08-27T08:40:00.008-04:00

My new "teammate" Jogging Auburn has had several very honest and probing posts this week, and today's really got the ol' mind churning. She was ruminating on the two voices in your head - the nasty one that's saying failure-promoting, action-opposed things, which often drowns out the positive, truthful one:

I want to be able to jog and jog and be able to feel like I could jog forever. I have heard it is a wonderful, powerful feeling. But the idea of jogging 3:30, 4:00, 7:00 ... and 15:00??? What?!? I feel a panic deep in my stomach at the idea. But why??

It feels like I AM running, but not in the right kind of way. I'm running away from running...I feel like a fricken dual personality, and one half of my personality is a real Debbie Downer. And I feel like I keep grabbing her by the shoulders and keep giving her a good shake, and she just keeps moaning and crying about stuff.

I was thinking about this duality Jogging Auburn is identifying, and I realized that one of my breakthroughs during this whole fitness project is that I'm learning to turn the duality to my advantage. Part of my mind is saying unkind, discouraging things to me? Well, I'm going to debate it right back. I'm going to get pissed at it and shout it down. I'm going to channel that power and use it for what I want. My mind is actually more powerful than my body's cravings for food or for laziness, and I'm not going to let that very strength sabotage me. This lightbulb shone even brighter when it comes to running, which is a goal/challenge that Jogging Auburn and I are both experiencing.

When I first started running, my legs or my lungs would quickly say STOP! and I would listen to them, then listen to the mean voice that said "you can't! too hard for you! give up!" When Maggie and I started running together, setting shared goals for each day, that little bit of positive peer pressure was enough to push me on, ignoring my petulant legs and conniving voices. They want to run only a quarter lap - too bad for them. We're going on. Once I did that a handful of times, the lightbulb lit up in my head...It doesn't matter whether I'm alone or with a buddy, I am in control of my mind and my mind is in control of my body.

I don't have to obey my legs. I don't have to obey my feelings. If I'm brave enough to sass back my nasty food voices, I'm not negotiating with the muscle terrorists, either. Once I spend ten seconds pushing through that omigodihatethisandmightdie point, my body releases a second wind. I don't know the exact science of it, but it always seems to me like if I just wait out that point of lazy, my body will accept what I'm telling it to do and will cooperate physically.

It's like a hostage negotiation. I picture my body plotting to itself, "ok, we hate this new running, fitness thing that's been going on. How can we stop it? I know - let's be really draggy and uncooperative, and make her feel like crap. I bet she'll stop. She always did before." And they're right. I always did.

Not anymore. Now I'm standing up to them. "You want to stop? Too bad. We're not gonna. I decided that we're running a full mile today. It's gonna happen, so suck it up and do what I say."

My body grumbles back. "We're so tired! You're too fat! Stop! We don't like it! Owwww!"

"Well, you're gonna! You have a job to do, and it's not an unreasonable job, so shut up and do it. I don't care if you like it. I do not negotiate with terrorists, especially not ones within my own body."

And so I keep going. And the legs and the lungs begrudgingly stop bitching at me and put down their weapons of mass fatness and open their little secret box of energy and work with me to meet my goal.

I still have to respect my body - I can't just decide to run a marathon, and miraculously have the leg power!! But I can set goals with reasonable increments of challenge, and then face down the whining long enough to make each one. I can decide, with my mighty mind, that I will not give up today. I will shout back at the bad voices even if we're arguing for the entire lap - I will still win. And then next time I'm running and my lazy body wants to break the ceasefire, I will remember that I was victorious last time. If I did it before; I can do it again.*

This is the kind of duality I think about while I run. I talk to my body like some kind of crazy person, talk to my legs like they're separate from me, like a naughty child that won't listen, or an obstreperous foreign power bent on ruling me. And every day it works.

So you're not alone, my speedy friend in Auburn! We'll be allies in Operation Go-To-Hell, Stupid Mean Voices! We'll keep running.

*This is why it's important to learn how to listen to your body - so you can tell the difference between laziness, and true pain that's telling you to stop.

Free from the Tyranny of the Free Lunch

2009-08-26T12:44:00.004-04:00

My boss bought the office lunch today to thank us for all our hard work. Pizza and salad. Oh god.

When the announcement was made on Monday, fear entered my soul. I remember when he made this "nice gesture" earlier this summer. I put ranch and italian dressing on my salad. I picked two of the largest pieces of pizza, and stuffed them down while being consumed with anxiety that the pizza would be all gone when I went back for more. Because I can see the big drafting table where the food was spread from my desk, I jealously watched for everyone to show up, serve themselves, and leave so I could run back to re-pile my plate with no one noticing what a fat, greedy pig I was. It was a delicious, miserable day.

Now, because pizza is one of the junk food items that I still love and still crave (goodbye, McDonalds french fries and Cool Ranch Doritoes!), I was terrified of my possible inability to make moderate, healthy choices. I thought about bringing my own lunch and ignoring the pizza, but I knew this was hopelessly ambitious - I would only look rude and would end up stuffing pizza down my throat, anyway.

So I made a plan:
-Eat healthy, filling breakfast.
-Drink two water bottles during morning.
-Eat big plate of salad before any pizza is allowed.
-Choose two small pieces of pizza.
-Choose veggie-laden pizza, avoiding pepperoni and sausage if possible.
-Stop eating when full.

Obstacles arose - I was sent around town doing errands all morning, making it harder to drink the water. And there was only one dressing option - Italian, with no clue as to whether it was fat-free or full-fat.

But I did not panic. I still had a huge serving of salad, put only a tablespoon of dressing on, and actually ate pieces of lettuce that did not have any dressing whatsoever! Turns out, when the salad has feta, beets, yellow peppers, you don't need every iota to be drenched in dressing?! Who knew!

I also chose two skinny pieces of the veggie pizza that was sans pepperoni and enjoyed the first slowly and thoroughly, without even picking off the mushrooms and olives. The second half of the second piece has been sitting here next to me for a good twenty minutes. I will probably finish it, and I may get a bit more salad, and this will be a more calorie-heavy lunch than I've had the past several weeks. But that is ok. Because I ate calmly and remained in control, making conscious choices in favor of the healthier option where it existed.

This might seem like a lot of obsessing and thinking and worrying to someone who doesn't understand food issues. And part of me wants to feel like a failure for having pizza for lunch. But most of me remembers the shame and the cruel compulsion I felt before, and is proud that I have learned to stay in control and to enjoy wise choices as much as I used to enjoy (or think I was enjoying) unlimited pigging.

Now, I get to have pizza, because pizza is not evil. I can't have pizza every day. I can't have endless pieces. But I can have two. And I can actually enjoy them, because they are not evil, and they are not in control. I am not having them because omgpizzaishereandihavetohaveasmuchofitaspossible. I am in control. I know two pieces will leave me full and fed, not stuffed and sick. And if I get ravenous in two hours, there will be more pizza and salad in the fridge. This meal doesn't have to feed me for the rest of my life. The pizza is not in control. I am! And I am allowed to have pizza!

Into the Mouths of Babes...

2009-08-26T11:10:00.006-04:00

I stopped by the grocery store on the way home from work last night because I have been out of fruit for several days now, and I miss it!

A young mom was in the produce section with two tiny blond ones toddling around behind her cart. The little boy was probably around three, and his sister couldn't have been more than two. They were both carrying popsicles and were cute enough to jump right onto the front of a Gerber jar.*

As the mom went to the far end of the cart to pick out some bananas, the little girl suddenly darted forward, threw her popsicle to the ground, snatched a plum right off the display and took a huge bite. Her brother stared at her, aghast, for a second, and then he crept forward, carefully set his popsicle on the side of the display table, picked out a plum, peeked at his mom to make sure her back was still turned, then took a little bite. The girl continued to munch happily, huge eyes staring complacently over the plum, juice dribbling down her front to the abandoned popsicle by her feet.

The mom finally noticed and came rushing over in horror, just as the little girl grabbed another plum in her other hand and sunk half her face into it. I was smothering giggles, and trying not to linger like a baby-snatcher, but I also wanted to congratulate the mom on producing two babies who reject popsicles in favor of fresh fruit, stolen or otherwise. I hope I remember to teach my kids the joys of mainlining peaches and plums!

*I wanted to take a picture of them with my phone, but I always feel a little nervous about photographing other peoples' kids. I consider adults to be fair game for my favorite people-watcher's hobby of taking pictures of strangers without their knowledge, but I don't want to totally creep out some poor parent who catches me in the act of paparazzi-ing her kidlets. This is not to say that I never do it...but I try to restrain myself.

Something Insane Has Happened

2009-08-25T13:43:00.005-04:00

I have just registered for a 5K.

I apologize if anyone just died from shock and awe. Yes, it's true. I* have willingly, of my own volition, with full knowledge and informed consent signed up for the Mount Olivet Cemetery Sunrise Run, a 5k taking place about a month from now.

I'm so excited.

*And Maggie, of course.

Naturally Thin

2009-08-25T10:09:00.004-04:00

I've referenced this book quite frequently without ever offering an official review - so here it is.

You've probably picked up on the fact that I'm a giant fan. The book kind of codified a lot of my swirling and confused ideas about what was a healthy relationship with food, why there's such a big difference between "diet" and "eating," and how to unlearn bad habits by replacing them with right ones. Reading the book (which I've done 2 times now) helped solidify my own determinations and understand the theory behind the common sense.

The author, Bethenny Frankel, opens the book with a thick paragraph of self-loathing phrases, the ones we all associate with our bodies and our unhealthy eating habits. She shares her own previously detrimental relationship with food, rooted in childhood habits and reinforced by the pressures of adult life, and states that stopping the negative voice in your head is a key step towards being naturally thin.

She's apparently some kind of reality-tv star, and she does do a bit of name-dropping throughout the book (although it helps that two of her celebrity bffs are on my favorite TV shows - Mariska Hargitay from SVU and Denis Leary from Rescue Me!). But she also claims it as her goal to "democritize health" by offering thoughts on wise eating that are accessible to anyone, rich or poor, famous or not, city or country or in the middle. She writes that everyone can be naturally thin, once you "make the changes to let that emerge." She emphasizes breaking "the cycle of self-destructive dieting" by "learning to think like a naturally thin person," promising to "show you how to change your life without changing who you are or what you like." This was comforting back when I was still getting used to not using food as a coping mechansim, although now I realize you kind of do change what you like - or rather, it changes itself. "You're tweaking your habits and turning them into good strategies."

The first part of her book consists of in-depth explanation of her ten main "Rules" for healthy eating to be naturally thin, which aren't strict procedures to be obeyed, but are concepts to guide you in a balanced and practical approach to every eating choice you make - the concepts that come naturally to the naturally thin. Bethenny emphasizes over and over that these are cardinal RULES, but guidelines to help you take control of your body and your mouth - "You don't need something to control your life; you need tools to help you regain control. It's your body. You can change it if you want to change it." Many of her ten rules overlap and reinforce each other - for example the first rule, Your Diet is A Bank Account, is made possible by the rule You Can Have It All, Just Not All At Once. I'm not going to go through them rule by rule, because I think you should just buy the book and read it! But they all seemed very solid and practical to me.

She talks frequently about the battle between your food noise, which is the self-loathing inner dialogue that tells you things like, "you've already failed, so keep eating," or "you're fat, so just enjoy food" and your food voice, which, when you learn to listen to it, will tell you when you're really hungry, what you really want, and what compromises are best in the given moment. Your food voice is the truth that contradicts the barrage of hate from your food noise, and part of naturally thin thinking is learning to recognize it.

Bethenny also emphasizes the idea of the food differential, which involves listening to your food voice to know when the difference between a healthy choice and an indulgent choice is significant to you, so that you don't feel either deprived or trapped by your cravings. She also frequently refers to the point of diminishing returns - when you have chosen an indulgence, Pay Attention and stop eating when you're no longer fully enjoying it.

She closes each individual chapter with a few recipes that help demonstrate the concepts she discusses in that chapter, explaining with each why the healthy ingredients in it have a small food differential for her, for example. She again emphasizes that the recipes are more of "guidelines for adventurous eating," encouraging you to get to know your favorite ingredients. The book is also sprinkled with great little practical tips, like eating a bit of protein whenever you have a snack of fruit, to help stabilize the sugar so the energy lasts longer.

The second half of the book follows her through a week of meals, in which she explains in great detail her thinking behind every food choice she made. This section gets a little redundant with the ten "Rules," but it was great reinforcement of how they interact with each other, and useful to see how easy it is to make quick choices that leave you feeling healthy and satisfied, once you understand the thought processes. She also takes many opportunities to emphasize the importance of taking control of your own eating - "You are the only one responsible for what you put in your mouth" - and for learning not to fear food, or to use failure as an excuse for quitting - "being snappish once doesn't make you binge on snapping at others, so why do that with food?"

I appreciated the no-nonsense style of writing and the attitude that emphasizes the importance of commitment while acknowledging the realities of life. The name dropping got a little silly at times, both for the celebrities she cooks for as well as her own health-food product line. But I didn't find it offputting. Her life seems pretty crazy, and some of her own eating choices might send me off the wall - but I appreciated the honesty, and it was comforting to think that eating a fingerfull of frosting for a "morning snack" won't be the end of the world, as long as you've made the choice for the right reasons and continue making good choices for the rest of the day.

This is not the book for someone looking for a strict eating plan full of rules about what and when you can and can't have things. This IS the book for someone with a convoluted mental and emotional relationship for food who wants to retrain their brain. It really helped me stop dreading the burden of making a good choice 4 or 5 times a day, instead learning conceptual tips to make good decisions, moving towards a balanced view of food as fuel and fun. This review is kind of all over the place - to sum up, I highly recommend the book to those who want a happy, sane lifetime, not a quick fix.

"You are NOT on a diet. You are learning new habits...Living in the moment and making sensible, balanced choices whenever you feel that you need to eat will create a string of good investments and eating experiences, leading to an overall healthy lifestyle and natural thinness."-Naturally Thin

Bodies are Weird

2009-08-24T10:54:00.004-04:00

So, once again the Curse of the Red Dragon ruined my life. Once again, I spent pretty much the whole weekend on my face in bed, making terrible eating choices and watching SVU. Ugh.

I had intended to be so proactive. I planned to forge ahead with exercise and healthy eating because so many women's magazines allege that such things help the curse. LIES. I could barely keep my eyes open and focused on the TV. I canceled my Saturday morning running date because I was awake and in agony all night Friday. The idea of going outside even just to walk around was laughable. I couldn't stand the taste of water without nearly puking - yet ordered a pepperoni pizza with my brother, ate four pieces, and nearly bit his head off when he wanted the last piece.

Then - oh shame of shames - because I had been craving chocolate chip cookies all day, I decided better to just make them and eat just enough to satisfy, rather than shoving everything else in sight down my throat. MISTAKE. I made a half batch. I ate three. I went to bed. I woke up Sunday morning and took the rest to bed with me. I ate a dozen cookies in bed. HORRIFYING. Granted, I ate hardly anything else for the rest of the day. But still. TERRIBLE CHOICE.

So I was braced for running this morning to be awful. I was prepared to have weak muscles, no energy...and I had the best run ever. I felt strong and fast. We ran a mile and a quarter, then walked a half lap, then ran another whole mile. Insane.

And what is more, I am skinnier today. I am almost positive that these pants are significantly looser than when I last wore them on Thursday. I look and feel skinnier. This makes no sense. I get zero exercise for two days, while making the absolute worst eating choices, thus wreaking total havoc on my metabolism...and I run better than ever. And look skinnier. Weird. WEIRD.

So I guess my body just really needed the downtime. Maybe the moral of the story is, your period is like Vegas - what happens then, doesn't really count.

Weigh-In: Blah

2009-08-21T10:48:00.003-04:00

Only lost one pound this week. Blah. I feel blah.

I know, I know, one pound is still something. One pound is better than no pounds, and it's sure as hell better than gaining. Especially since the monthly dragon is right around the corner - better to have those nightmarish fluctuations buried in the middle of a week than directly showing up for weigh-in. And I lost 3 last week, so I'm still on track for my 2 pounds/week rate. But this is the first weigh-in that I've lost fewer than those 2 pounds. So I'm feeling kind of...blah.

van Gogh the Personal Trainer

2009-08-20T10:06:00.014-04:00

One more day till weigh-in! Here's some words of wisdom to help us all stay on track today:

“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.”
-Vincent van Gogh

my favorite van Gogh - Cafe at Night

Be the person taking a walk,
not the person sitting down eating -
unless you're eating veggies, of course!

You know what is done by impulse? Eating instead of facing fears. Eating instead of accepting disappointment. Eating instead of confessing mistakes. Eating instead of trusting other people.

Impulse makes you feel small and choked and limited. Impulse is not the liberty to do as you please with each moment - the habit of giving into impulse erodes the freedom to make a better choice until you're terrified of yourself and your desires.

Lift your head.
Choose something small.
Do it. Keep doing it.

Small things...every individual healthy choice I make, in each present moment - learning nutrition, one small thing at a time. Building fitness, each small step at a time. Small "no"s adding up into great "yes"es, growing into great things - great things missing on the scale, great things showing up in what I see in the mirror, not just what is no longer clumped on my waist, but what is newly in my eyes. Fat burning away and leaving self-confidence, excitement for the future, open to new things and the chance of happiness.

Every moment counts, today! Every moment is a chance to do an intentional small thing instead of an impulsive empty thing, every moment is one moment closer to a great thing.

Set yourself free. Bloom! Glorious!

2 Wins in 12 Hours

2009-08-19T08:39:00.004-04:00

WIN # 1: Last night I had plans with good friends whom I haven't seen all summer. I walked in, and Mr. M. says, "Hey, how've you been? Hey...have you lost, like, a substantial amount of weight?!" Me: "Heck yes, homeslice! 20 pounds, to be exact!" WIN!

It was very encouraging to know that the difference is starting to show itself! Most of the people I see, I see every day, and the changes would be too gradual to make a big impression. Also, many of them are aware of my project, so if they noticed, it might be because they were looking. It's so motivational to have spontaneous confirmation! WIN!

WIN # 2: This morning, Maggie and I ran a full mile at one stretch. A whole mile, four laps all in a row, with no breaks for walking! WIN!! It wasn't easy...but it wasn't impossible, either. We are excited about our awesomeness.

Best Run Ever

2009-08-17T13:29:00.005-04:00

For the first time ever, I got to be the crazy person running when everyone else was walking.

Saturday night I wanted to go rent a movie from the redbox at Kroger. I couldn't drive because of the Woodward Dream Cruise, so I strapped myself into my sports bra, running shoes and ipod and headed out into the dusky humidity. It was about 9 pm and the police were hard at work trying to herd everyone homewards. The sidewalks were choked with bikers, rollerbladers, wagons full of toddlers and strollers full of babies, coolers on wheels and couples holding hands. I was running upstream, towards Woodward, through air so thick with exhaust and cigarette smoke that I could hardly breathe.

It was so much fun. It's 1.7 miles to Kroger from my apartment, and I ran nearly the whole way. Even though my lungs or legs forced me to stop a few times, I didn't really want to. It was so exhilarating to chug forward (slowly) through the night-time and actually be getting somewhere - not just going in circles at the track. It was weird to pass cops at every corner and silent, dark ice cream trucks down every side street, and helicopters circling spotlights overhead. I felt unstoppable. I felt people staring at me, and for the first time, I relished that feeling, because for the first time, I wasn't the one trudging slowly along, eyeing the runners with suspicion, mystification, a touch of envy. I was the crazy runner. It was a startling and exciting way to see myself.

Kroger was closed when I got there, so I ran home, and I didn't feel like my trip had been in vain.

Weigh-In: A Third of the Way There!

2009-08-14T10:20:00.012-04:00

I did it!!

3 pounds gone this week!

20 pounds lost, in total!

*dances silently*

Yehaw! I'm pretty excited about being a third of the way through this project. I set a goal of losing three pounds this week, and I did! So that means I can do all my goals! I lost 20 pounds! I can do that again twice - piece of cake! Or rather, with no pieces of cake...

I just went to the Farmers' Market, and look at my beautiful veggies:

Do you SEE the size of that zucchini?! Like something out of a dream or a Disney movie! And I'm excited about learning to cook with scallions and eggplant for the first time.

This morning I went out to breakfast with Maggie* and her two little sisters. I ordered exactly what I wanted, which was pancakes and bacon, but only ate one pancake, two strips of bacon, plus about 1/4 of Maggie's tomato & feta omlette, and a few bites of hashbrowns. This is exactly the kind of thinking-about-eating I learned from Naturally Thin**: listen to what you want, make a conscious decision by balancing your desires with what you know is wise, sample others' and share yours, stop when you're full and/or when the enjoyment factor starts to diminish. I'm sure the calorie, fat and sugar counts came in above what would be ideal, but treats are ok if they remain occasional, the meal was fairly balanced between carbs, protein, even some veggies. At the end, I was full, but not stuffed. I didn't feel weighted and greasy and sticky. And I hadn't sat picking glumly over cottage cheese and egg whites, staring with haunted eyes at everyone else's choices. Good for me! Food isn't in control; I am!

*Yes, the same Maggie I run with. Speaking of which, running is going better than ever. Maggie and I are up to half mile stretches at a time, with half laps (1/8 mile) of walking in between. And we're starting to really, really like it! This week, due to scheduling and weather issues, we ended up running Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, instead of M-W-F-S. It was intense, and we backed off the total distance a bit on Thursday, but I'm still very proud of our dedication.

**Yes, I'll get around to that review eventually. The short version: it's great. The middle version: good thinking tips, lots of practical tips, a bit too much name-dropping, but on the whole, very no-nonsense.

Jimmy John's and I Have Reconciled

2009-08-13T13:54:00.008-04:00

I have a very long and passionate relationship with Jimmy John's - my friend Anndrea and I refer to him as our boyfriend, and have made our peace with having to share him with each other.

At times our affair has grown complicated, and he has not always felt secure in our love for him - for example, back in my heavy drinking days, one night we ordered delivery at 2:30 am and passed out before the delivery guy arrived. Our dear boyfriend was waiting for us on the back-porch when we awoke, however, remaining faithful despite our weakness. He loved us enough to somehow convince the delivery boy to let him stay although we had not paid. We had a joyful, hung-over reunion in the hallway of my building.*

At times, Jimmy John's has been the one to go astray - I refer to a dark and heartbroken period of some months, during which all local Jimmy John'ses claimed that I was out of their delivery zone, although each of them had in fact delivered to my apartment on numerous occasions.** But when a new location opened up half a mile from my house, we ran jubilantly to each other's arms yet again, and our love remained intense until about 6 weeks ago.

At that point, I regretfully decided that our tempestuous relationship was bad news for me - he leached away my bank account and laid waste to my body. I finally heeded the advice I tell all my friends about their unhealthy romantic entanglements - "Don't go back to him. He's being sweet but it won't last. You know he's selfish. You know he won't make you a priority. You need to respect yourself and walk away, even though it's hard and it won't feel fun. You have to make the smart choice and your heart will thank you someday." I swallowed my own medicine. I broke up with Jimmy John's. This time for good.

Until today. Customer Appreciation Day at Detroit-area Jimmy John'ses. Fresh, delicious subs for just $1. I was seduced. I was beguiled. I gave in.

Except not really. I researched online ahead of time and checked out the calories of my favorite two subs. The Vito is my absolute favorite, but comes in at 578 calories and is loaded with fatty meats, cheese and Italian dressing, none of which are virtuous and none of which can be removed without ruining the Vito experience. The Turkey Tom is number two in my book, has turkey (obviously), tomatoes and bean sprouts, all of which are fairly skinny-friendly, and ranks at just 326 calories, if you go without mayo.*** Plus I never ate my whole Jimmy John's all in one sitting, even back in our puppylove days,**** so I knew I would get lunch plus afternoon snack out of it.

So today Jimmy John's and I had a long heart-to-heart, and learned three valuable lessons about
one another:

1. It is possible to go to Jimmy John's and not order the Vito
2. It is possible to go to Jimmy John's and not order Salt & Vinegar Chips (small weeping occurred here)
3. It is possible to go to Jimmy John's and not order a Coca-Cola including numerous refills (even more weeping, but with restorative peace behind it)

So Jimmy John's and I are seeing each other again. We're taking it slow - we both have raw wounds, and struggle with trusting one another. But I think we can find a way to make it work.

*To the chagrin of the neighbor who had let us in the night before - he came out of his apartment, stared at us, then asked in a tone of shaken concern, "You never made it into your apartment? Have you been lying there all night?"

** I am almost positive this is not related to the tipless night of infamy.

***Which I would do anyway, because I think mayo is vile and disgusting.

****This is a lie. The very first time I ever had Jimmy John's, I devoured the whole thing, breaking all known land speed records, plus chips and a cookie. This was, however, when Maggie^ and I went to Chicago to pick up her passport, and my debit card was mysteriously overdrafted,^^ and I wandered around the city all day alone and unfed except for when I begged/flirted my way into a hand-out from a Barnes & Noble,^^^ until Maggie finished at the passport office, had mercy on me and bought me my first Jimmy John's. She was kind of the pimp.
^Yes, the same Maggie I run with.
^^Ok, maybe not so mysteriously.
^^^This sounds worse than it was - I worked at a Barnes & Noble and had a small gift card and cajoled them into giving me more for the money than they should have by manipulating the type of bonds formed by trench-warfare soldiers, sorority girls and retail employees.

Healthy Eating WIN!

2009-08-12T14:11:00.004-04:00

Me: [microwaving lunch in office kitchen]
Boss: [walks in and starts sniffing] "What are you having for lunch? It smells incredible."
Me: "White beans with spinach."
Boss: [peers into bowl] "No way. It can't smell that good."
Me: "Yeah. It's white beans cooked with garlic and Tuscan seasoning, and spinach cooked with onion. Plus a sprinkle of shredded cheese."
Boss: "WHAT? That sounds good. I can't believe spinach and beans just sounded good to me. I can't believe it smells so great. Gimme some. [grabs forkful] Omigod. That's delicious! Are you the f**8ing health food whisperer, or something?"
Me: "Uh, I dunno. It's just leftovers mixed together with some tiny cheese."
Boss: [shaking head] "F**8ing incredible. Here I am choking down lettuce and fruit for every meal. I should start coming to your house for dinner."

WIN FOR SHARON'S HEALTHY COOKING!!!!

PostSecret - Nothing to Hide

2009-08-10T12:36:00.007-04:00

Did y'all see this on PostSecret this week?

Sound familiar?

...and guys still aren't attracted to me...
...and I still can't find anything to wear...
...and I still don't have a job I love...
...and I still can't manage my money responsibly...
...and I still can't trust my friends...
...and I'm still afraid of dogs...
...and I still feel awkward in groups...
...and my dad still isn't proud of me...
...and I'm still self-conscious about my height...
...and I still don't like the sound of my laugh...

What would you fill in?

I don't know why we convince ourselves that being FAT is at fault for all that's missing in our lives - and then continue leading FAT lifestyles. Maybe because telling ourselves, "this will change when I lose weight" keeps a sad little ounce of potential in the equation. Maybe we'd rather have hope moored to a fallacy than no hope at all.

Or maybe we're just that afraid of self-determination. Taking FAT out of the equation (because it doesn't really belong, not at all) means we have to take responsibility for change...or we have to accept the way things are. No one wants to make the best of reality. We want to float free in some future dream. We want to be comfortable in the pounds, in the fake security that we have everything we want - it's just waiting just on the other side of 20 (40, 60, 100) pounds.

FAT doesn't affect the things I hate about my life. I'm still getting rid of it, because it does cause other problems. But then I'm going to work on a new solution to the equation. And, because I'm putting on discipline and self-confidence in place of the pounds, I'm guessing I'll finally be good at math...at least this kind.

Weigh-In: Taking Care of Business

2009-08-07T08:31:00.007-04:00

2 more pounds gone!

For a total of 17 pounds lost!

And this drops me out of the 190s, into the 180s!

Mood is a little cheerier today, because it's Friday! Because I feel great after running, and well, because I lost 2 pounds! But still working at keeping my head out of the past so that I can succeed in the present. I'll have to be firm with myself and carefully manage the weekend so that I don't lapse into self-destructive blues.

Recap of the week:

Eating has stayed pretty much on track this week, and it keeps getting easier to say no to passing junk food urges. I just have to be a good girl about portion control, and continue learning to pay attention to the different between hunger and appetite, so that my body gets what it needs - enough but not too much.

Thanks to Lauren for comparing me to this cat!

I wasn't totally diligent about walking on non-running days - about 2 for 3. But, Mags and I keep upping the ante on our morning runs, so I feel good about the amount of fat burning happening in my life as a whole. And I'm pretty good about doing crunches and arm exercises with little weights while I watch TV in the evenings.

This week, I'd love to knock off 3 pounds, to hit the thrill of 20 pounds gone. Action-based goals:

Run half-miles at a time (2 laps), with only half-laps of walking in between (Maggie and I set this goal together, and we know we can do it!).
Walk/ mild exercise on the alternating days - for real, this time.

No specific eating goals for this week, as I have been doing really well with my tons of veggies, lots of fruit, and careful balance of proteins and grains. Depending on how running goes, I might up my daily calories or try calorie cycling - anyone have tips?

It's the weekend, everyone! Be good, be happy!

Blues

2009-08-06T09:38:00.006-04:00

"If Hunger isn't the problem, Food isn't the answer."

Someone said that on the 3FatChicks message board the other day, and I've been chanting it to myself all morning. I'm rather blue today, a dusky wolfish blue, not a cheering ocean blue. I'm questioning some decisions I've made in the past and wondering if I was the failure in that nightmare. Criticizing myself for how I handled things and imagining how I could have fixed the whole mess, if I had been smarter, stronger, better. Consequently, I am saddish and grumpy and self-hating. Naturally, this makes me want to eat.

Except not really. When I think about putting french fries into my face, or eating goldfish crackers and freezie cokes until my stomach aches, I feel distaste. I don't really want to do that. I have the habit of responding to emotion and upset with food, but many of my classic faves now seem like junk food, "fake" food, and no longer appeal.

I could easily stuff myself with healthier food and still end up a failure. I still have to resist the urge to eat 5 cups of almonds, or an entire block of cheddar cheese. And I don't want McDonald's, but I would love to fall face-first and drown in a plate of Thai food. So I'm reminding myself "if Hunger isn't the problem, Food isn't the answer." No amount of eating can change what I've already ruined. No taste on my tongue can affect my bank account, my address, my career, my heartstrings. I'm trying (without much success) to focus on the answers in the future that I could still affect, rather than the problems in the past that I can't change. Trying, failing, blah.

I don't have a real point here. Just clenching my teeth for the next couple days, and pretending that my water bottle is vodka.

Henry Ford Was Not A Nutritionist

2009-08-04T09:14:00.003-04:00

Last night I made a delicious, colorful dinner for myself - small lean pork chop, half a balsamic sweet potato, and a big green spinach salad with carrots and tomatoes. It was healthy and tasty and easy and I sat down to eat it.

A few minutes into the salad course, I noticed something crazy about my eating habits. I shoveled in each bite of salad, then paid no attention to how it tasted on my tongue or how the flavors and textures interacted with each other. While chewing one bite, I was entirely focused on loading up my fork with the next.

Apparently, my eating style is oriented toward the future rather than the present. Over the past month I've made the conscious decision with every meal to eat slowly, chewing each bite thoroughly. Now I understand why that was a switch that had to be made, as opposed to a natural way of eating - if each bite is spent preparing the next on my fork, it makes sense that each bite would be swallowed down as soon as possible to make room for the one waiting on deck.

Why do I feed myself like I'm on an assembly line? Meals aren't a race.

Henceforth, my rule is to put my fork down between bites. It won't be busy chasing down onions while I'm chewing. It won't be hovering over the plate, waiting desperately to shovel in the next load as soon as the pearly whites pause. I will put it down on the table and wait to pick it up until I'm actually ready for another bite.

I'm already learning to enjoy the flavors of "healthy" food in a way I never expected, and changing my focus to the present will only enhance that. Also, consciously beginning each bite, one at a time, will help me stop shoveling in every last molecule just because it's there, regardless of whether I am still hungry or am still enjoying it.

Making the switch to nutritious food is an important step, but one can still overeat on the healthiest stuff and end up fat and groggy. That's not going to be me. My fork can wait on the table. My mouth can live in the present. My tummy can be full and happy on the inside and flat on the outside. No more assembly line eating! I'm on strike!

Weigh-In: 15 Gone!

2009-07-31T11:16:00.004-04:00

The scale said 190 this morning - two pounds lost this week!

I was hoping a little bit for 3 lost, so that I could escape the 190s, but 2 is still pretty awesome. And that puts me at the nice, respectable number of 15 total pounds lost. Lost for good, never-to-be-found!

I'm really starting to notice results on my body, as well. I can now fit into my first pair of fat jeans. When I bought them last fall, I was traumatized by the size I had to choose (although clearly not traumatized enough to stop eating obesely, since I outgrew them in about 3 months). How odd that I'm now excited to be wearing them! I was proud to wear them to work yesterday, though, and they fit so well that they didn't even annoy my navel piercing (yes, they're that high cut - it was an emergency when I bought them and I had to grab the first semi-attractive, affordable pair I could find).

My boobs are also not bulging out of my bras as alarmingly - although this is a little unfortunate, as I count on them to catch my earrings when they fall out.

So, all-in-all, I'm pretty happy today. I was super good about eating this week, probably because I'm really excited about all the new foods I'm trying, and I successfully arose at 5:45 on Monday, Wednesday and Friday for my running date with Maggie. I even *almost* enjoyed it!

Goals for the coming week:
Be a good girl about walking on the days I don't run.
Do a couple of ab work-outs.
Make wise eating choices.
Finish reading Naturally Thin.
Continue encouraging myself!

Happy weekend, friends and lovers!

Hoodia

2009-07-30T13:59:00.005-04:00

I realized about a week ago that there's a part of my weight-loss project that I haven't blogged about. And I've been shirking it since then because some people in my real life have been so critical and judgemental, and I'm scared. But then I told myself to grow up. This is my blog and I should feel free to write honestly. If I'm not ashamed of my choice, I shouldn't hide from the possible disparagement of others.

A friend recommended the natural supplement Hoodia gordonii, which is from South Africa and is a natural appetite suppressant. I did a little Google research, didn't find any horror stories, listed side effects, or any evidence that it was an unwise or unhealthy thing to injest, and decided to give it a shot.

It has been such a valuable tool. I compare it to being on the patch for smokers - it basically made it possible for me to resist physical cravings, in the beginning of this project, freeing me to focus on emotional eating triggers and on making wise, nutritious meal choices when I was still weak with flabby will power.

This herbal thing is like training wheels on a bike. I still struggle with compulsive eating. But now I understand better what I am doing. I'm learning what my body needs. For the first time, I understand the difference between satiety and engorgement. I still feel my stomach growl when I am actually physically hungry, and I still feel the emotional impetus to respond to stress or pain with tastes and chewing. I still enjoy eating. But I don't struggle as much with "phantom hunger" and I have more success finding non-kitchen-centric things to do with my boredom, loneliness, etc.

Some people I know have bashed on me for "taking the easy way out" or "being lazy and not wanting to do the work." Friends threatened me that "without forming good habits, this will never last" and "this can't be good for you - you shouldn't risk your health just because you want to look a certain way." My response was always hurt masked beneath a respectful "F-off."

This has NOT been an easy way out. This is putting myself on bypass during the open heart surgery - something else is doing a little thing to keep me alive during the major reconstruction. A little tiny sandbag holding back the flood. I have still wrestled, almost literally, with the desire to rush to the pantry and stuff everything into my mouth. A couple times, when I succumbed to this urge, I felt distaste with almost the first bite, because my body didn't need to eat and the supplement was affecting my appetite to intensify that difference. My face was shoved down into the difference between emotional appetite and physical appetite. No fun. Important, but no fun at all. Not easy

And so I had to start DEALING WITH EMOTIONS OH MY GOD. Whenever I ran away from self-aware, mature processing of current experiences or old issues, I encountered Hoodia standing there, shaking its head sternly at me, and I had to turn around and trudge back to Emotionville to take care of business. Hoodia turned food into Fort Knox, and then, when the crisis subsided, showed me that the gold is actually more like gross piles of nasty unlovable lard. You're so mean, old Hoodia! But you're doing your job.

And now, a month down the road, I know a lot more about myself, my body and how it works, my mind and how it works, my emotions and how they work. My tastes have started to transform themselves away from McDonalds towards whole grains and raw veggies. I AM building the habits for longterm success - not just losing this weight, but not regaining it, and continuing to respect my body with healthy eating choices and an active lifestyle.

So I'm totally ok with taking "the easy way out." I know it's not easy for me and I know some "friends" will never understand that. Maybe someday they'll discover something wildly dangerous about hoodia - but I already know it's wildly dangerous to be overweight, or to be emotionally crippled to the point of self-destruction. I still feel the impulse to feed emotions, but next to it is a desire to deal with them healthily. The battle between the two is still traumatic, and it still scares me that I don't exactly want to eat my feelings anymore - I'm still trying to recognize this new me and accept her.

Ultimately, my body belongs to me and I'm the one in charge of deciding how to treat it. I'm the one who has to live with that decision, whether it's a good one or a bad one. For almost the first time in my life, I'm consistently proud of myself. I can look myself in the eyes in the mirror, even if I don't love what's below them. For the first time, I feel strong and happy on a regular basis. For the first time, I feel like I am a person of worth who is allowed to set goals and who is allowed to expect to accomplish them. Hoodia is a part of becoming this way, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

WIN: Fake Pizza

2009-07-29T13:47:00.005-04:00

Last night Satan whispered in my brother's ear and made him try to talk me into getting a pizza after work.

I said no. Firmly. And stuck to it. Even though he got himself one and was eating it unashamedly and cruelly.

Instead I chopped up a tomato and roasted it in the oven with some salt and pepper and mixed it in with quinoa and parmesan.

It tasted exactly like I was eating pizza with a spoon. I swear. Just as creamy and cheesy and succulent as a fat greasy slice dripping with cheese and carbs, and I ate my fill for about 200 calories.

Eating is so much more fun when it's guilt-free.

Fat Bachelor

2009-07-29T09:36:00.002-04:00

Last night I watched the series premiere of More to Love, Fox's new reality show that is basically the famed Bachelor/Bachelorette concept with fat girls competing for the hand of a husky bachelor.

The show's ostensible theme is "real women determined to prove that love comes in all shapes and sizes." I think there's some grounds to the complaint that the girls are being exploited as a freak show, and I take small issue with severely overweight women being presented as the "real" alternative to Hollywood's waifs. In reality, the "average," "healthy," "normal" American girl falls in the 8-14 size range; pushing 300 is not the only kind of non-size-0-or-2 out there.

But what really irked me - and saddened me - were how trapped and broken many of these girls were. They sat on-camara crying about how no one would ever love them because they are so heavy, how guys always ignore them and focus on their "skinny friends," how they have to do well on this show because it's their last chance at love.

Lies, lies, lies.

The thing standing between these girls and true love with any decent, substantive guy is not his attitude towards their physical appearance as much as it is their own attitudes towards themselves and their bodies. Larger girls are beautiful and desirable when they are confident and comfortable and proud of their many worthy qualities and accomplishments. We are all much greater than a number on a scale or the scorn in the eyes of some superficial d-bag in a bar - if we let ourselves be.

I understand self-hatred. I understand feeling unloved and unlovable. I know how crippling it is to be rejected over and over. But I also understand that it's possible to do something about all these things. We are not victims. We can lose weight. We can make our bodies healthier. We can retrain ourselves to value our good qualities and to be proud of ourselves even as we're working hard to improve our flaws.

If your physical appearance makes you feel so worthless and unlovable that you're crying about it on national television, considering a complete stranger to be your last chance at happiness and putting yourself in the hands of some jackal producer, get up and do something about it.

It's hard to break up with food. It's hard to make healthy choices over and over and over. It's hard to be disciplined about exercise. But it's not impossible. It takes daily persistance and a radical reorientation of priorities, but you can do it, once you want it badly enough - once you're ready to be honest about yourself, your failings, your strengths. I think it's important to be fit and healthy and I encourage anyone to pursue a weight-loss goal. But it absolutely starts in your head, and no matter how skinny you get, you won't be attractive to others or happy with yourself if you don't fix that evil voice inside your head.

Life is about more than finding a guy to spend it with. Guys come and go, friends betray you, kids grow up and move away, but you'll always have yourself. You're stuck with yourself whether you like it or not so you might as well make yourself the best friend you can be. If you feel worthless, figure out why and do what you can to fix it. Seek out people you trust who will affirm your good qualities without pandering, and this will help you identify what is best about you so that you can focus on and strengthen those qualities. It can be scary to learn about yourself, but you'll be learning good things along with the shameful things. It's hard to break a lifetime of harsh thoughts about yourself. But once you start learning what to tell yourself, and once you start listening, it actually becomes, in some ways, easier than hating yourself. You'll get addicted to feeling good, to finding new challenges that will make you stronger and better and happier with who you see in the mirror.

God knows I am not perfect at any of these things. I hugely struggle with being ok with myself, with recognizing my good qualities. I feel crappy about myself a lot of the time - but I know, intellectually, what I'm good at and what I should be telling myself, and I'm learning to listen to my own inane pep talks. And I'm learning to believe my friends' encouragements.

The sobbing girls on More to Love had given up. You could see it in their eyes. They had given up on losing weight, on being beautiful, on being lovable. They sat, trying to shrink into themselves, hunching their shoulders, looking around nervously, like a dog that's been kicked. They were expecting the show - the world - to confirm how awful they think they are. They said, "I think big girls deserve love, too." But they didn't act like they believed it.

It's difficult for someone else to love you when you don't love yourself.

Stuffed Sweet Potatoes

2009-07-28T09:12:00.006-04:00

Last night's dinner (which will also be tonight's dinner) = WOW. Who knew this girl could cook with so few calories (and so few catastrophes!)

Stuffed Sweet Potatoes

I based my efforts on this recipe, but substituted ingredients as I had them. Plus, that recipe is just horribly written, with confusing directions, so don’t click the link - save your strength for cooking.

2 large sweet potatoes
1 cup fresh kale, chopped (or spinach, if you don't know what kale is, which I didn't until about a week ago.)
1 medium red onion, chopped
1/2 red pepper, chopped (or you can also use green peppers, which are always cheaper.)
1 zucchini, chopped (the original recipe suggested 3/4 cup mushrooms, chopped. I loathe mushrooms as intensely as I love zucchini. Have it your way.)
Herbs and seasonings (the recipe suggests ½ cup fresh basil, which I didn’t have. Instead I used an assortment of Italian herbs that were on my spice shelf including oregano, basil and sage, with a bit of cumin for kicks.)
1/2 cup grated cheese (cheddar, mozzarella or Mexican mix – I used all three as I had three nearly-empty packages of shredded cheese in the frig)
Parmesan cheese (recipe wants 2-inch piece feta cheese, crumbled, which would be phenomenal, but I didn’t have any, so I used my trusty canister of parmesan-romano.)
Salt & pepper (I suggest garlic salt, if you want to be truly awesome.)

Set oven to 350 degrees. Wash sweet potatoes, jab several times with fork to let steam escape and bake in small baking dish. Bake for an hour-ish, depending on the size of the potatoes and the strength/reliability of your oven.

Let cool (this was very difficult for me, as I am impatient).
Cut potatoes in half, then carefully slice off tops of potatoes (eat or discard).
Scoop out potato innards, carefully keeping the skin intact, and put the yummy orange stuff into a medium bowl. This step is easier if you have cut them in half as I instructed:
-Slice down each side, just inside the skin, leaving a thin strip of orange innards clinging to the skin.
-Then connect your two cuts at the non-open end, being careful not to cut the skin apart.
-Then slide the knife along the bottom of the skin at the open end.
-Now your chunk of innards is precisely carved and can be gently scooped out without damaging the skin shell.
Mix the veggies, spices and shredded cheese together with the orange potato innards. Sprinkle a bit of Parmesan in as well - Mmmmm!
Spoon filling mixture into potato shells and put them back in the baking dish.
Surround filled potatoes with any extra filling.
Sprinkle parmesan generously over the whole thing, potatoes and surrounding filling.
Bake for 30-ish minutes.
Serve hot.
Consume guiltlessly.

This recipe turned out absolutely deliciously – so good, in fact, that my 22-year-old brother, who turns up his nose at anything that didn’t come out of the freezer or a chip bag, and is insulted by an offer of salad, ate some and loved it.

Try other veggies you like - broccoli, cauliflower, celery, spinach, summer squash, tomatoes. Try other cheeses or other spices. Heck, try it all! It's good and good for you. The recipe is a bit time consuming, but you can always do other things while the potatoes are baking - like prep the veggies or watch Jeopardy, both of which I did.

Again, I did the rough math – each filled potato half is approximately 130 calories, so if you eat an entire potato’s worth, plus some surrounding filling, you’ll come in around 300 for the dinner. Not too shabby.

Fist Pump

2009-07-27T08:43:00.015-04:00

My weekend was awesome. Absolutely awesome. For the first time I have absolutely no regrets to report.

Friday morning I spent the day going around to every farmers' market and alternative grocery in the area, hunting down affordable prices on foods I had never heard of a month ago - bulgar, quinoa, kale, oh my! I've been experimenting with how to make these things and how they taste best, which is exciting and yummy and utterly mystifying to my Doritoes-fed brother.

Saturday morning I got up and went running. I got up at 7 am on a Saturday morning and went running and loved it. If you had suggested this to me a month ago, I would have laughed till my abs ached, and that would have been the extent of my working out for that week. Hi, Sharon, I'd like you to meet the new you.

My friend Maggie is my new running buddy, and we've committed to running before work three times a week, on Monday-Wednesday-Friday. We kicked it off the best way, which is to start right away, with a trip to the track Saturday before she left for the west side of the state. We've started by alternating walking and running quarter-mile laps at the tracks for a total of 2 miles, and will work up as we get stronger! We went again this morning - I've decided that not going is not an option. If I have a rough day, maybe I'll give myself an extra walking half-lap - that's where the flexible persistence comes in. But the flexibility does not extend to staying in bed feeling sorry for myself. Get up, get out, get skinny!

Last night my brother and I went to the Tigers' game with great tickets that my boss gave me. We had dinner at Detroit Pub beforehand, which was the first time I've eaten at a restaurant since starting my new life. I had spent the weekend reading Naturally Thin by Bethenny Frankel (which I highly recommend and will write about more extensively when I finish it) and made careful but not neurotic choices for nutrition and enjoyment. I went with the fried chicken pita, because I would enjoy it so much more than the grilled one, but had no mayo, only ate half, shared most of the fries with Steve and left many on my plate. Notice this, people:

That is a true accomplishment for this girl. Half of a delicious chicken pita remains on this plate. Fries left uneaten. Ranch dressing not licked out of every corner of the little dish. I also enjoyed two sips of beer and two bites of hot dog. I enjoyed not feeling like a whiny starving dieter sucking on cardboard while eying real food wistfully. And I enjoyed not feeling like a bloated and disgusting fatted calf.

So that was my skinnygirl weekend. I was happy and energetic and proud of myself for three whole days. I never felt deprived. I never hated myself. I never had to cringe at my own pathetic failure. Imagine that.

I was thinking all weekend about how much more doable all this is than I ever thought it would be. It's incredibly difficult - it's an ongoing battlefield in my mind, and food demons are constantly throwing themselves in front of my tastebuds. But it's so much more feasible than I could have predicted. Now the habits are starting to kick in - both the good habits, and the habit of telling myself no, of telling myself there's something better than what you think you want in this instant. It's intimidating, it's scary, it's challenging, it's arduous, it's monotonous, it's annoying...but it's not that hard if I acknowledge I can and decide I will.

The biggest part was admitting to myself that I can do it and taking responsibility for that commitment. The soft way is to continue thinking of myself as a person who can't say no to yummy food, who can't afford healthy food, who hates running, who hates mornings, who would never start a Saturday at the track. Deciding that I can't saves myself from having to.

At first it was terrifying to say no to food and yes to exercise over and over. But then I learned that I could, and it didn't make me bleed from every pore. Now I know that I have dozens of the right "yes"es and "no"s behind me, and I know how good they feel. I will pick the wrong ones again, this I know. I will hate myself for what I ate. I will slack off on work-outs. These are facts of life. But none of those fails will be doom. They will be a just a little splat and I will know how to get back up and keep going. I'm watching myself metamorphosize, which is weird, but also exhilarating.

This has been a long post, so I'll wrap it up with some pictures to reward those of you who've gotten this far. Even though I've only lost 13 pounds, not enough to really show, here's the proof that eating healthily and working out regularly for a month will not, in fact, kill you - I'm alive!

June 21 - the picture that started it all.

July 26

(Note: that is WATER in my hand. I visited two bars and had one sip of my brother's beer at each. This is MAJOR.)

Friday Weigh-In: Is This Actually Working?!

2009-07-24T10:29:00.002-04:00

In college, I was the person that walked out of every exam on the verge of suicide, assuming I had failed and would be expelled. Of course I had never failed. Of course I always did much better than I thought. And I was shocked every single time.

It seems that my weigh-ins will follow the same pattern. Every week, as Friday approachs, I start to panic about what will I do if I didn't lose. I expect to see little or no results and I start preparing my mental game to deal with it.

Then I lose big. And I'm thrilled and surprise and everyone hates me about it.

This morning: hopped on the scale. Saw these numbers:

192

OMG!

That's 5 pounds lost this week!

I am very, very excited about this. It means my grand plan is working. I guess I will continue eating healthy, moderate meals, paying attention to a careful balance of nutrients, getting enough sleep and exercising regularly. That's the magic.

Half A League Onward

2009-07-23T08:36:00.011-04:00

I am a stubborn, stubborn little girl, and sometimes this is a good thing. Stubbornness is what it takes to stick it out in the face of adversity and criticism. But I'm learning, recently, that it's not always advantageous, especially when it's paired with my other main character trait, dysfunctional perfectionism.

History admires those people who go down with the ship, refusing to compromise. But I'm learning more and more the value of the strategic retreat. Sometimes the thing that feels like "quitting" turns out to position you for a greater, more lasting victory. Giving in is not the same thing as giving up. Stubbornness is impervious, but persistence is flexible.

Last night illustrates what I mean. A month ago, when I started this project, I had great running ambition. I planned to hit the track regularly, tough it out no matter how much I hated it, until it became free and fast and easy. Then I started hitting the track. And I discovered that I could not run. It wasn't just boring or just difficult or just tiring. My legs physically refused to run more than a quarter loop of the track at a time, and could only handle 3 or 4 tiny eighths altogether, no matter how much walking came in between.

This was profoundly discouraging. And the old, flawed perfectionist me would have given up. "I'm not going to exercise at all if I can't run with power and liberty." This is what I mean by dysfunctional perfectionism, the mindset that has plagued my entire life - beyond "If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing well," but also "if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing BIG and GLORIOUSLY and absolutely perfect from the start." It's an inherently flawed way of thinking - I would rather be fat forever than invest several months to lose the weight? Would anyone say, "if my broken leg won't heal by tomorrow, I never want it to heal. If I can't be cancer-free in a week, why would I bother fighting cancer at all. If I can't finish college by next Friday, why even start." No. Ridiculous. But that's the way I faced every challenge. Instantly, perfectly, impressively, or not at all.

This was one of things in my brain that had to be rewritten for my weight-loss success. So when running turned out to be impossible. I talked myself into being ok with it, into accepting a less noble alternative. I decided to be very faithful about walking - a brisk 45 minute walk is better than a 7-minute, self-loathing run.

I started walking nearly every day at lunch time and being very faithful with my long evening walks, sometimes going with friends, sometimes with my iPod and audiobooks. I bought little handweights and pumped them idiotically on my walks. (And I kept reminding myself that no one cares about me as much as I think they do. Very few strangers driving by actually think to themselves, why is that fat girl walking instead of running? Just because I stare at other people nosily for 60% of the time and think about myself obsessively for the other 40%, doesn't mean that everyone else in my neighborhood is also staring at me and thinking about me obsessively.) Sometimes I walked at the track, sometimes around the neighborhood, and walked to do errands whenever possible. People on the 3FatChicks forum assured me that this would help my legs get stronger for more intense exercise. And I rationalized that maybe when I had 20 or so fewer pounds to carry around, it would be easier.

Well. The past few walks, I've started feeling antsy. I've started feeling like I wanted to run. Anyone that knows me well probably just passed out from astonishment when they read that sentence. But it's true. And last night, when I went out for my walk, I started out running, just to see if it felt as good as I was thinking it might, and it did. And I ran so far (for me). I didn't start wishing I were dead with the first step. I was three blocks down the street before I even started wishing I could quit, and then I made myself go another block. Then I walked, and in almost no time, I was wanting to run again, as opposed to trudging for as long as possible before forcing myself to do another spurt of running.

I was out for nearly 45 minutes, until it got too dark to see the sidewalk. I ran longer at a stretch, for more frequent stretches, with less misery and hatred, than ever before in the history of me. I was amazed. I was excited. And I realized that if I hadn't "given up" (given in) on running and "compromised" my perfectionism to be disciplined with walking, I would never have gotten to this point. I had to walk before I could run, at 25 years the same as at 9 months old.

Yesterday wasn't a total triumph - I had an Arby's roast burger (with a budget as tight as mine, it's incredibly hard to say no to free food.) But I only drank half the pop that came with it, and I did not order fries even though I really, REALLY wanted them. And then I ate a SuperPretzel, and then I ate Thin Mint ice cream. But I stopped eating the ice cream when I realized I was sated, rather than continue automatically eating until it was all gone, just because it was there and just because I had already started.

And I ran. Maybe my calorie/nutrition ratio wasn't the greatest yesterday. But I feel like I've realized something important, however, about myself and about the idea of persistence. It's not always sticking to something blindly, intractably. Will power is about hanging on when it doesn't feel good, but sometimes your will power needs a complementary infinitive - to look, to see, to think, to try a different way. Persistence includes the flexibility to re-evaluate your position, perhaps changing your grip. Sometimes you need to let go so that your hands are strong enough to hold on again.

Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing

2009-07-22T12:41:00.003-04:00

I had ice cream from the free ice cream cart.

*head hung low*

This is a picture of my shame:

That wrapper is the shroud of a lump of fat that is now speeding towards my bum.

Commence flogging.

The CR Way - Review

2009-07-21T14:25:00.002-04:00

The CR Way

Over the weekend I read this book, as promised last week. The book as a whole is about health more than weight loss - the authors emphasize that while weight loss may occur, it is not their goal. They seem to have older individuals in mind as their readership demographic. A lot of the book is devoted to the detailed science of extreme calorie reduction, and to its benefits on specific ailments such as cancer, heart disease, high cholesterol many of these sections I just skimmed. The book also includes many charts about different foods and how they fit into the CR philosophy, and also an entire chapter of recipes. I did, however, pick up some useful tips about effective eating habits and the psychology of eating fewer calories than you're accustomed to.

The basic CR philosophy is to replace empty calories with far fewer but more nutritious calories. The idea is that extreme calorie reduction teaches your body to function more efficiently. The authors refer to this as "biological stress," explaining that by challenging your body with carefully managed deprivation, you teach it to be stronger and smarter. The authors also believe this kind of eating "activates your body's innate longevity system," increasing your energy, concentration, memory, mood and sexual ability and enjoyment. They explain how to gradually reduce your diet by small percentages until you're eating up to 20% fewer calories (if I'm remembering the numbers correctly).

The book advocates careful meal planning, because on such a limited diet, the effect of what you do eat is magnified. Some of their rules:

Cook vegetables as little as possible to benefit from their antioxidants - if you dislike raw vegetables, cook them al dente and plunge into cold water to stop the cooking process. Sprinkle them with lemon juice to prevent oxidization
Eat organic food as much as possible
Protein should come mostly from beans and lentils
Eat healthy fats with every meal - e.g., walnuts, olive oil
Drink beverages only between meals, not with, and avoid caffeine, pop, alcohol and sugary drinks

The authors encourage readers to eat slowly, comparing dining to pitches coming at you - it's easy to hit them one at a time, but set up a pitching machine and bombard yourself, and you'll end up missing lots of home-runs. So think of your digestive system as the batter and your mouth as the pitcher, and throw yourself some nice easy ones! Eating slowly also allows you to enjoy the taste, texture and flavor nuances of your meals, helping you to enjoy more of less. "Calorie restriction becomes a liberation from the focus on food to enjoying the quality of the experience," they say.

They also recommend a very specific eating schedule that I think would not be convenient to all of us. They suggest eating your large meal early and tapering off as the day progresses, with eating at night strongly discouraged. They also suggest easing into your first meal of the day to lessen the glycemic spike, with this plan laid out:
Lemon juice in warm water
Sugarless gum to awaken insulin release
"Tease meal" - a small serving of "good" complex carbs (sweet potatoes, brown rice)
Add some healthy fat, such as walnuts
Work out
Enjoy a multi-course breakfast
I don't know about you, but I would have trouble fitting all that in to my morning before I leave the house at 8 am!

This eating plan fits into their theories about fasting, which they praise as a "natural high" with cognitive and mood-enhancing effects. They claim experiencing sharper brain function when they plan their caloric intake to leave up to 16 hours between meals. For a successful fast, they suggest:

Build your diet with satisfying carbs with a low glycemic index, high fiber/low calorie foods and healthy fat in every meal (the book includes many charts for these categories).
Plan and prepare meals ahead of time to prevent tiredness or unexpected events from sabotaging you.
Don't let danger foods into the house.

These sections are where they reinforce the idea that "hunger is a sign we're doing what we're supposed to." This has some merit in helping me talk myself into the right choices. But I think it's important to learn the difference between emotional hunger and physical hunger, and use their mantra to stave off the former, but feed myself healthfully when it's truly the latter. I do appreciate their point that "hunger feels better than bloating." Oh how well I know that gross fat feeling that follows a binge!

In the authors' words, "The plan is not about denial but about choices." This is not entirely true - parts of the philosophy clearly are about denial, as many sections are devoted to discussing the practice of fasting and its effects on the body, mind and spirit. But the central sentiment is one that can help a lot, I think, in changing our perspectives on "dieting."

Back In the Saddle Again

2009-07-21T08:30:00.003-04:00

Sorry for all the whinyness yesterday. Such blues are now a thing of the past.

I got up early this morning for a little 20-minute walk/run before work. This was a big sacrifice - I not only lost a luxurious half hour in the covers, but I also had to find clean socks, find both shoes, find my shower cap. Quite an ordeal. But I do feel better.

Yesterday's eating stayed on track - I am so proud. The Sharon of a month ago would've eagerly plunged into a vortex of annihilistic eating. I'm so miserable and I hate myself and my body and my life. I have no self-discipline. I can't do anything right. I am the worst person alive. Let's order chinese. I should stop for fried chicken on the way home.

NOT ANYMORE.

I stuck to my two healthy mini-lunches: peaches and yogurt at 11, celery boats with banana and peanut butter at 2:30 - win.
I didn't take my lunch walk, but I also didn't pass out in the parking lot - win.
At home, I cooked a skillet of lean turkey, celery and onions and divided it into thirds - win.
I only ate one of the thirds - win.
I also made a big salad of red pepper, tomato, cabbage and spinach, and divided it in thirds as well - win.
I was reasoned and restrained with my ranch-dressing application - win.
I did some sit-ups and weights during TV-watching - win.
I drank my whole gallon of water, plus an extra 32 oz. (although what I really wanted was wine by the bottle) - win.
I went to bed on time - win.

I think today will be a great one. Happy Tuesday, everyone!

Not Peachy Keen

2009-07-20T11:18:00.003-04:00

Forced myself to eat my first minilunch at my regular time of 11 am: half a peach and a spoonful of yogurt. I was not hungry, and actually felt sick while I was eating it. But I know it's important to establish regular eating habits for myself. Also I know I need the nutrition since I haven't had anything since a handful of cheetoes and animal crackers (shame....) yesterday afternoon.

This is very odd, to feel so fat and unhealthy, yet be having to force myself to eat. I never thought I'd complain about lack of appetite. But I feel so weak and un-nourished. And I'm scared of losing the three weeks of good habits that I built up.

Biological Warfare

2009-07-20T08:35:00.005-04:00

Weekend = wretched, thanks to a certain act of biological terrorism that the good Lord saw fit to inflict on womankind 12 times a year.

I didn't exactly overeat, but I was so nauseated I could hardly even drink water, so I was very dehydrated, which didn't make the exhaustion and cramping any better. And when I did force something down so I could take painkillers, I had no fight in me to make it nutritional (think Little Caesers and Rice Krispies and whiskey). I did try to force myself out for a walk both days, but cut it short after I nearly passed out. Last night I was trying to psyche myself up to get out of bed, from which I had watched 8 consecutive episodes of CSI:NY, and instead do a work-out video; I canceled that plan when I glanced in the mirror and saw that my face was absolutely grey. I resembled one of the corpses on Hill Hunter's table.

So I feel like a big fat bloated frumpy failure this morning. I have planned healthy little meals of fruits and veggies today, so I hope I can get them down and keep them down! Water is not my bff again yet, but I'm trying choking it down. The lunchtime walk probably won't happen, as I am still reaccustoming myself to being vertical instead of curled in the fetal position around my heating pad.

This was/is very discouraging. My month-to-month experience varies - sometimes the PMS phase is horrific, and sometimes the actual blessed event itself is the nightmare. I was hoping that my new habits (more exercise, healthful eating) would make things easier, as I am now actually doing all these things that people suggested would be therapeutic. These hopes seemed confirmed when the PM(onster)S phase passed fairly peacefully. I had mentally geared up to feel bloaty and uncomfortable, and for the emotional side to be a great challenge but was not prepared for the physical apocalypse. Maybe the new changes are too new. Or maybe I'm just cursed.

I will have to work super hard the next four days to make sure that scale shows the 10-lbs-lost mark, not the 2-lbs-regained mark.

Blah.

Look Out, CPK

2009-07-18T09:00:00.002-04:00

I've been crazing pizza for weeks. I always crave pizza - I would marry it if I could - but I've been craving it like Ali Baba craved the 40 Thieves. Like Angelina craves multi-colored babies. I want it. I WANT IT.

So I invented a compromise. I decided to try my hand at making my own.

I found this recipe for whole-wheat crust pizza in the New York Times. I bought a pile of fresh veggies. I got to work chopping and mixing and kneading.

All did not go according to plan, because I lost the second page of the NYT recipe and had to combine the NYT ingredients with the pizza-making instructions in my Joy of Cooking. And when I tried to roll the dough out into a circle, it started to turn into a rectangle and then detoured into something ambiguously geographical.

I ignored its odd dimensions, brushed it with olive oil, garlic and basil, popped it in the oven, whipped it out 7 minutes later brushed on a bit more oil, sprinkled some parmesan, covered it with red peppers, green peppers, balsamic onions, tomatoes, parmesan, mozzarella and spinach, and popped it back in until the veggies crisped and the cheese bubbled.

It looked amazing.

I tested it on my brother Noah to see if it was edible.

It was. I ate a piece myself. DELICIOUS.

Later I did the math (roughly) and it seems to be approximately 170 calories per 3x3 piece. Ish. Not great, but not bad for an indulgence full of fiber and veggies!

(Oh yeah. I also had fresh peaches with a 100 calories of vanilla ice cream. But I had a walk, too!)

Friday Weigh-In: HELL YES

2009-07-17T17:48:00.003-04:00

This morning I sprang out of bed and rushed to the scale. I hopped on. I peered down at the numbers. I saw something. I didn't believe it.

I rubbed my dawn-bleared eyes. Maybe I'm still dreaming. What I see cannot be true.

197

I rubbed my eyes again, in case sandy sleep was marring my interpretation of the scale. I went back to bed for an hour. I got up, drank coffee and looked again.

197

It's true? Is it true? It's true!

197! Three pounds lost! 3 pounds!

I'd like to thank the Academy. Also, Naomi for so ~~constantly~~ ~~mercilessly~~ kindly ~~peer pressuring~~ ~~hounding~~ encouraging me to stay on track with my little work outs and health eating choices.

On to week four!

Danger, Will Robinson!

2009-07-16T16:09:00.006-04:00

OH NO!

This was my favorite day last summer - like Pretzel Day on The Office. How ever will I resist??

Tomorrow is Weigh-In Day, and I am nervous! This week has not been disastrous - I've pretty much stayed on track with my planned exercise and with making healthy eating choices. Last night there was an unfortunate incident involving pretzels and Wheat Thins, but it was contained fairly quickly.

It's been a tough week, though - mentally draining. I feel like I've worked hard and made a lot of tough choices and sacrifices that deviated from what would have normal a month ago. Even though I know I want these things, I didn't always feel like I wanted them, in the moment. So I feel like I've won victories this week, and it will be demoralizing if the scale doesn't reflect those battles.

My first weigh in, I was down 2 pounds. Last week, I was down 3 more pounds. If tomorrow's results are disappointing, I will be facing my first week without the morale boost of success to keep me on track. That means I will have to find new reservoirs of discipline and will-power! Maybe the disappointment will spur me on to work as hard or harder - but maybe I'll crash, spend the weekend hating myself, and struggle to stay focused. Maybe I'll forget that it can be worth it to keep making the right choices.

As long as one pound is gone, I'll be happy. I want to be below 200! Being a 199 pound girl sounds so much better than a 200 pound girl. One pound. That's all I ask.

Tomorrow is a big day.

Mind Games

2009-07-16T11:07:00.006-04:00

I've been exploring The Sunny Side of Life, a blog with many posts delving into the mental and emotional aspects of weight loss - actual, the mental and emotional aspects of why we get fat in the first place and why it's so tough to get skinny.

Here's a sample from today's post:

The prospect of eating right the rest of our lives can be depressing; it's about giving up what seems to be a way of life, even if we know it hasn't been a 'way of life' that worked for us, really. It's the real fear of not only losing weight, but losing ourself...the way we enjoy our "good times", the way we celebrate, the way we sooth ourselves, the way we COPE. That's very scary stuff.

That's what I was feeling this weekend when I realized I didn't want a Slurpee.

I am one messed-up cookie...but maybe I'm not the only one. I guess the secret is to learn to recognize that skinny girl inside, and learn to like her, and be brave enough to let her out!

The CR Way

2009-07-16T09:13:00.004-04:00

This weekend, I saw a little blurb on the news about something called extreme calorie reduction, which is practiced ongoing, as a lifestyle, for the sake of good health and long life, rather than specifically or only weight loss.

They interviewed the authors of this book:

The CR Way

(who were both extremely thin, btw) about their hows and whys. I didn't catch many details about what they eat or how many calories they allow themselves to consume, but one thing Mrs. McGlothin said was, "When I feel hungry, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to do."

That intrigued me. Because my eating habits have always been so unhealthy, I now have to learn to translate what is physical hunger - my body telling me I need fuel - and what is emotional hunger. Right now, because I'm carefully managing calories to reduce waist size, what she said is often true for me - feeling "hungry" means I'm resisting cravings; hungry = I'm doing what I'm supposed to do.

Right now, that might be a useful mantra for me. Hungry means I'm winning.

But what about when I lose the weight? I want to keep a healthy diet, but I don't want to feel hungry. I hope that in six months, or a year, I will have learned healthier eating habits and healthy emotional habits. I'll be able to take a feeling of hunger at face value - I'm hungry? Time for some food. Not some McDonalds, not a whole pizza at one sitting, but something tasty and nourishing.

I don't know if I want to practice The CR Way as a lifestyle. How many years will it give me? It's definitely not worth an extra 3 years, to be hungry my whole life. But if it buys me an extra 10 years? An extra 15?

At any rate, I think the book will be interesting and insightful, and will probably have some good tips about fitting lots of nutrients into smaller meals. I just got it out of the library, so I'll let you know what I think.

Best of Times/Worst of Times

2009-07-15T08:31:00.006-04:00

That was yesterday.

It was a long, cold, boring afternoon. I was tired. I was emotionally drained because, after all my sacrifices and growths of will power, which hitherto I had been proud of myself for, some of my friends were giving me heat because my calorie counts were too low and I wasn't getting the right nutritional balance. I felt foolish about my misplaced triumph. And I felt like a failure because I can't afford the things like salmon and avocado that seem to be the secret weapon of a healthy happy diet.

I thought about pizza all afternoon. I daydreamed about it. I visualized it dancing into my mouth. I researched healthy, easy recipes for homemade pizza before realizing that I didn't have most of the key ingredients. I fought with the craving like Jacob wrestled with the angel.

On my way home, I decided on a compromise. I decided to have pasta for dinner, and I decided to put cheese on it. Pasta, oh mi corizon cheesey pasta, I have so manfully resisted your abandoned cries for weeks now. I return to your arms.

I stopped at Aldi and blew the electric bill money on milk, lean ground turkey and bananas, because everyone gave me so much grief for not having meat, and I felt badly about it. Then, in the last half mile of the trip, I had a total diet-morale failure. I decided to have moutains of mozzarella on the pasta. I decided to have three pieces of garlic toast and two glasses of wine. I decided that I wasn't going to go for my walk, I wasn't going to touch my weights, I was going to punish myself for being a failure at life with a grand failure at my weight loss project that would plummet through the diet stratosphere with a roar and wail, like a rocket ship forsaking its orbit and falling to earth. I wanted to get back together with my ex, food, for just one night. I wanted to doom myself to that devastating feeling of embarrassment and self-loathing that would come if I sabotaged my Friday weigh-in.

Fortunately, this all happened within the horrifying virtual reality of my mind. By the time the dinner was cooked, my self-destructing impulse had subsided. I made a 1000-calorie pan of pasta with ground turkey, onions, tomatoes, garlic, celery and a measured topping of mozzarella and Parmesan. I divided the pan into three servings and boxed up two for the week's lunches, instead of automatically downing the whole thing as per uze. I had a glass of skim milk instead of wine. I had no garlic toast.

Win for me, right?

Wrong.

When I first walked in the door with my sad little bag of groceries, I caught the whiff of sugar cookies. Sugar cookies, on The No-No Shelf, which had been doing a dirty little striptease for my mind's mouth for close to 36 hours. Sugar cookies. I caught a fragment of their aroma...and I burst into tears. This girl, who never cries unless drunk or watching Extreme Home Makeover, this girl was crying at the smell of a retarded little flake of refined flour and butter.

Honestly. The skinny gods should've just smited me right there. Pathetic.

It gets worse.

I ripped one out of its box on The No-No Shelf, and I stuffed it in my mouth. I chewed it with the defiance of the Christians being herded into the arena as the Emperor shakes his fist and unleashes the lions.

It wasn't good. I realized before the first bite was swallowed, that it wasn't worth it. But I finished it all, almost for the principal of the thing - why would a Christian forsake the faith if the lion has already bitten off both legs? And then I faithfully noted down its 160 hateful, non-yummy calories in my food diary. And then I mentally flayed myself with the Cat'O'Nines.

And then I cooked my stupid dinner, and ate it (with a small salad) and enjoyed it, and felt full, and wasn't tempted to break into the other two portions.

But. One hurdle lay ahead. To work out, or not to work out?

I definitely didn't want to work out. I was tired. I was lazy. I had a blister on my foot. I wanted to watch TV. I wanted to finish my library books. I wanted to take a long shower. I wanted to go to bed early. I decided after nearly two weeks of consecutive exercise, I deserved a night off...even if I had forcefed myself a cookie.

Then my phone bleeped. A text message, from my friend Maggie who lives a mile down. "Want to walk tonight?" Damn you, skinny gods. Leave me alone! Fine. I'll walk.

So we walked. Probably at least 2 miles, if not 3 (we were talking and meandering around neighborhoods, so I'm not sure). We booked it down the sidewalk like Olympic speedwalkers. And we pumped our arms spastically with our little hand weights. And we talked about all the other workouts we could do - jump rope in empty parking lots, take a Jazzercize class in town, walk like this more frequently to more places. It was good times.

So the long and short of it is, I had fails and wins yesterday. I hate myself for that godforsaken cookie, and for the incredible effed-up movings of my mind. But I'm proud of myself for recovering with a healthy dinner, and for allowing myself to be peer-pressured into the walk.

Here's hoping today is more drama-free.

The No-No Shelf

2009-07-14T08:42:00.001-04:00

I live with my brother. He has the typical eating habits of a 22-year-old guy - microwaving a frozen pizza is "cooking." Opening a bag of BBQ chips is "making dinner." Buying a box of sugar cookies is "planning for breakfast this week."*

Unfortunately, he is also very generous, and whenever he is having something, he asks me if I want any.

He "went to the grocery store" the other night and returned with:

BBQ chips
3-D Cheetoes
Sugar cookies
Macademia nut cookies
Sugar cookies with colored sugar on them
Pecan whirls
Super Pretzels
Fruit punch (3-gallon, industrial strength, Vacation-Bible-School-friendly container)
Blue Hawaiian punch (3-gallon, industrial strength, Vacation-Bible-School-friendly container)
Fruit punch (6-pack of individual 8 oz./240 calorie on-the-go bottles)
Blue Hawaiian punch (6-pack of individual 8 oz./240 calorie on-the-go bottles)
Banquet freezer chicken pot pies
TGI Fridays Home Mozarella sticks
Red Baron meat lovers' pizzas
Texas Toast
Garlic breadsticks

I am probably forgetting a few items, but that's the long and short of it.

Now, not ALL of these are my favorites...but several of them are - namely, the Cheetoes, the sugar cookies, the garlic bread...and they are all very dangerous things to have in the house when you're trying to unlearn a lifetime of emotional eating and food rewards. I'm all for learning and strengthening self-control, but there is such a thing as the Geneva Convention.

So I reorganized the pantry a little bit:

This is The No-No Shelf. All the tasty, fat diet-busters will live on this shelf**, and I will have to move this sign to access them, making it more difficult for me to make up some lies about why it is ok to eat the whole box of pecan rolls at one sitting.

That should do the trick.

*He is, of course, scrawny as a beanpole - 6 foot and probably in the vicinity of 138 pounds, 10 of which are his courageous white-boy fro. I hate him.
**It has already been established that I am not allowed to open the freezer, as absolutely nothing of nutritional value lives in there - just 3 or 4 half gallons of gourmet ice cream, a giant tub of Neopolitan ice cream, a fifth of vodka and Steve's assorted microwavable heart-attacks. And ice.

Chickpea Salad -

2009-07-13T13:56:00.000-04:00

This is a recipe I invented. I named it chickpea salad, but you can call it whatever you want. You can also put whatever you want in it, but this the way I've made it recently.

INGREDIENTS:

Chickpeas (garbanzo beans) - one half can
2 cups assorted chopped vegetables:
Today I used Celery, Carrots, Onion, Tomato
Also suggested: Apples, Broccoli, Green, Red or Yellow Peppers, Peas, Radishes
Generous squirt of Lemon juice
Moderate squirt of balsamic vinegar
Olive oil can be used instead of or addition to above
Heaping Teaspoon of cumin
Generous sprinkle of chili pepper
Sprinkle of garlic salt
Salt and pepper

INSTRUCTIONS

Drain and rinse chickpeas
Chop vegetables
Toss together all ingredients
Serve chilled - best if made a day a head of time, so that the seasonings can mix and mellow.

YIELD: 2 servings

This salad serves as my lunch today and tomorrow. It's refreshing, tasty, healthy and cheap. It's exciting to eat thanks to all the textures, tastes and colors, and it's a great source of calcium, fiber protein and healthy fat thanks to the chickpeas. It's also a sneaky way to enjoy the antioxidants and stuff found in raw veggies without dunking them in something fat and amazing like ranch dressing.

It's very flexible - toss in whatever veggies you have on hand and season with your favorite spices. Depending on what vegetables and oils you use, it usually comes in under 300 calories a serving.

For a more elaborate meal, serve over brown rice or as a side dish.

PEERTrainer Tips of the Day

2009-07-13T10:29:00.000-04:00

If you haven't yet joined the PEERTrainer Tip of the Day newsletter, I highly recommend it.

Just seeing the email in my inbox every day is a tiny reminder of what I am trying to do, a little poke in the brain to help me stay on track. And I have found the insights to be encouraging and motivational, but not chintzy, with practical, realistic advice that is supportive and not intimidating.

Here's a sample:

At the moment you want to quit, the moment the pain has become too great, that is the moment that usually means you are close to a breakthrough.

It's easy to give up when you hit a plateau. It's easy to give up when you've had a bad weekend of eating and hanging out on the sofa. But what happens is devastating; all the work that you put in to lose 5 pounds, after you go off track takes weeks, sometimes months, just to get back to that original 5 pound loss.

Plateaus don't mean it is time to give up; they mean it is time to change your approach. Overeating all weekend isn't a sign to bail; it's a sign to examine what situation brought about that trigger, to learn and figure out ways to cope next time.

Good stuff, eh? That's the kind of thing I need to hear - artillery in my ongoing mind-war against myself.

Go Shorty, It's Your Birthday, Gonna Diet Like It's Your Birthday...

2009-07-13T10:13:00.000-04:00

Today is my boss' birthday. Apparently he has just started a new diet, (I heard him complaining about having a turkey sandwich in his brown-bag lunch) so instead of having cupcakes at our morning meeting, we had fruit.

Big, bright, beautiful fruit, including the sweetest pineapple I have ever tasted.

His diet is working out just beautifully for me.

Lean On...?

2009-07-11T17:59:00.000-04:00

I planned a reward for myself this weekend. I planned to take myself to 7-11 for their annual 7.11 oz. Slurpees. I couldn't wait for the planned indulgence in a tiny little serving of my number one favorite treat, freezy Coke. And I was going to walk the mile up to the 7-11 on the corner, to make doubly sure that the reward didn't ruin all my hard work.

Now it is today. And I was getting ready to start my hike. Then I realized...I didn't really want a freezy Coke. And this was very unsettling. I felt like I had lost Something. Not that I was exercising self-control, but that I had taken something away from myself. Like I had made myself hate my best friend. I felt like an adulteress.

It's one thing to not let myself have my much-loved treats, my fail-proof emotional crutches. But to not even want them? What do I do if emotional tragedy strikes? What happens when I'm devastated, too devastated to worry about weight-loss, and I need to smother myself in french fries and freezy cokes and cheese rotini and savory steaks...but I don't want them? What will I do? What happens when I need to turn to something, and there's nothing there to turn to? I felt like I had smeared mud all over my favorite painting.

Is this normal? How do I get past it? What is a healthy thing to lean on, besides food?

Or maybe this is a fluke. Maybe you can't break yourself in just a couple weeks. Who knows. We'll see.

First Friday Update of the Rest of My Life

2009-07-10T11:40:00.000-04:00

This post is a combined overview of my current methods plus my first weigh-in update.

This week went pretty well. There were a couple rough spots, as circumstances produced emotions, and emotions produced the desire to eat. But I did not succumb; I stuck stubbornly to my scheduled, healthy meals. There were tears. But my cheering squad, led by the fabulous Naomi and the awesome Rebecca, kept me from using food as a solution. So I won.

Exercise has gone ok. I'm discouraged that running has been so difficult, but I devised a winning alternative: for now, I am focusing on long, brisk walks. I filled my iPod with free audio books to keep my legs pumping.

General wins: as per Naomi's suggestion, I've started walking during my lunch breaks. I eat small, healthy, minilunches at 11 ish and 3 ish, which helps keep me feeling full during the work day (Plus eating at 3 makes it easier to stick to a small healthy dinner, rather than binging the moment I walk in the door). Then I am free to walk my way to skinny at noon.

Also, I am drinking tons of water. TONS. I stole/borrowed Naomi's goal of a gallon a day, which is approximately four of these 32 oz. water bottles:

So far this has not been hard to meet. But it does keep me peeing. Incessantly. All the time. Every five seconds. I'm turning this into extra cardio by going to the ladies' room one or two flights up, rather than the one on my floor. I will pee my way to a cute ass!

I'm also taking the stairs whenever I go anywhere in the building, instead of the elevator. I haven't started parking at the back of the parking lot yet, but that's because I'm usually running late.

Last night I marched 2.6 miles to the library and back. With a backpack full of books. My legs were dying by the last .6 but I did NOT call my brother to come pick me up! (I briefly entertained the idea, then spat it right back out). I enjoyed the walk, and it surely burned more calories than my usual 1/4 mile of running/self-loathing.

I'm weighing in on Friday mornings and Friday mornings only. My first Friday, I logged my starting weight at 205 (O HORROR). Last Friday, after my first week, I was down to 203. Which set my goal rate at 2 pounds a week, That is the rate I accomplished the first week without any truly heroic measures - just good ol' will power and self-discipline. I believe it is a very do-able rate, plus it means the first 50 pounds will be gone by Christmas. Meaning I can buy a damn hot dress for New Year's Eve, and look damn hot in it.

This morning....the big weigh-in....drum roll please.....

200!!!

Meaning I lost 3 pounds this week! and a total of 5 pounds since I started this commitment!

WHOOOO HOOO FOR ME!!

5 down, 45 (55?) to go. I can totally do this.

Confessions of a Fat Girl

2009-07-10T10:33:00.000-04:00

I've always been a curvy girl.

I've always used food to be happy. (Well, ok, not happy at all. But I used food to pretend to be happy. Threw food down my throat on top of any problem, any anxiety, any hurt, as well as any excitement, boredom, social occasion or Tuesday occasion.)

I've always figured this was just a part of me. Hey, I'm built big. Hey, I was raised to be an emotional eater. Hey, I have a great body image. Hey, society can't make me think I need to look like Kate Moss. I can just be ok like this.

I used to be skinnier. Never skinny, but skinnier.

Then my life fell apart. And then, as I was starting to build it back together, I got a desk job, and was sitting eight hours a day instead of being on my feet. And then the glue I had put on the seams of my life started to come unstuck. I eased up on the alcohol and I eased more into the food. And by "eased" I mean "hurled myself headlong."

This was acute loneliness, acute self-loathing and acute depression. This was conscious, dedicated, barely rationalized binge/graze eating.

Food was my therapist, my mother, my best friend, my boyfriend, my true love, my colleague - my companion in everything. Food filled a long boring weekend with bright spots. Food was an affordable pleasure. Food was there for me when no one else was.

And pretty soon, fifty pounds were there for me as well.

And my mighty mental machine of self-persuasion went to work. More of the, hey, this is my body type. More of the I am so cool and empowered to not conform to Hollywood. More of the anyone who doesn't love me like this shouldn't be in my life anyway.

And even as I started to sew myself together, to weed out the other lies that had snarled their way around me, these lies remained. I was just too scared to give up food. I joked openly about the pounds sneaking on, about taking them off when I was ready, about how I knew I could do it once the switch in my mind flipped, once I really wanted to. I was fooling myself. I hadn't weighed myself in nearly a year because I just didn't want to see the number.

And I thought I was ok with this. I told myself that I would rather carry some extra pounds and freely enjoy my food than make the sacrifices to be slender and fit. I thought I had accepted this trade-off. I took pride in how well-adjusted I was to make this rational choice, to reject the "deprivation" it would require to be movie-star skinny. I thought I had given up on being a skinny girl. I thought I had just totally given up.

Then I saw a picture of myself that made it glaringly clear just how heavy I had become. Glaringly clear and glaringly awful. And I had some deep, honest conversations with friends who also wanted to take off weight, though for different reasons. And I realized I wasn't actually, truly ready to accept being a fat girl. I still have a little skinny girl inside of me, and now she wants to be let out.

I broke up with food.

Something really is different in my mind, now. That switch I joked about flipped. This is a commitment that goes deep, deep deep down to the ugliest pit of my stomach that screams out for food at every twitch of emotion. I'm tired of accepting my failure. This is something that I CAN do. It's not easy and it's not quick, but I CAN do it, and this time I WILL do it, because this time is different. This time I have a realistic expectation of how long it will take and how hard it will be. This time I won't lose heart when I don't lose ten pounds after one work-out. This time I won't give in to the first piece of pizza that dances salaciously before me.

This time I will make the small, moderate choices that will ease me into a permanent skinny lifestyle. I will learn to eat because my body needs food, not because I feel like eating. I will learn to choose the active way over the lazy way, even if it's a difference of a few steps. I will learn to go for a walk, instead of doing nothing because I felt too tired to run.

Above all, I will learn to tell myself the right things, about the project and about myself. This will be a brain retrain for me, but I will do it.

I will feel proud of the little victories, instead of brooding over the little defeats.

I will choose to stare at the wins.

I will choose to take a lessons from the fails and then ignore them.

I will let people help me - I will be honest about both my struggles and my successes, accepting encouragement and rejecting pity or pandering.

I will be proud of myself every step of the way, even if I wander to the side of the path.

And I will not let myself stay over on the side, no matter how broken I feel.

This is all new stuff for me. I am not a positive person - but this is important to me, more than just for the need to be skinny. Taking off the pounds is part of putting myself back together.

I'm starting this blog two weeks in because my friend Naomi, who has been a source of immeasurable encouragement, comfort and inspiration, has been blogging her own efforts, and her reports have been both informative and motivational.

I'm also blogging all this because I want a record of my own progress, both physically and emotionally. I knew it would an epic test of will power to break up with food, but I wasn't prepared for the emotional component. I now have to deal with my feelings - I have to look at them, I have to identify them, I have to figure them out. No more suffocating them with pasta, cheesy omlettes or garlic mashed potatoes. I've been ambushed by tears, cravings, horrifying memories, you name it, and some days I've gone to bed physically exhausted by the mental effort to work through all these things without eating. I've always been a writer; I've always been self-absorbed and maybe if I write about this very odd, very tough project, it will make the break-up easier.

Maybe I will learn to binge on words instead of bacon.

The Incredible Shrinking Sharon

Happy New Year, New Me!

Nothing to be Ashamed Of Except How Late This Update Is

No Weigh-In!

Not Unsavored

This Morning

Unofficial Weigh-In From NYC

New Life So Far

Weigh-In: Good-Bye, Michigan!

Oh, yeah, Weigh-In...

Things I Didn't Say Over the Weekend.

Weigh-In: Whooosh!!!

I Ran

POMx

Who Am I and What Have I Done With Sharon?

Wipe-Out!

Operation 10K ON 10-10: The One Where I Cried

I Can Be So Dense! (Stick Around Till the End - It's A Pun)

Muscle Does Not Weigh More Than Fat (5 pounds is 5 pounds), But It Is Much Nicer to Look At

Weigh-In: Oh, Bother.

Operation 10K by 10-10: We have LIFT-OFF

Spreading the Spark

Say Goodbye to Pants

ME, Over the Top!

Honest Scrap: Down the Hatch

Weigh-In: UGH!

This is Why I Love My Friend Emily

Biggest Loser

Firey

Tara Grant 5K: Double the Torture, Double the Fun!

Weigh-In: -?-

Paint it Black

10K by 10-10

Lesson of the Day

Exciting Announcement: Mini-Goals!

First Ever 5K: WIN!

Weigh-In: Backstreet's Back, ALRIGHT!

Bring It On - For Yourself!

Tara Grant

The Space Between

Fruit Flush Report Card

Former Fat Girl of the Week

Pity Party = Over.

Weigh-In: Big Fat FAIL

The Disney Syndrome

Putting the AB in LABOR DAY

Weigh-In: The 70s Are Groovy

This Is A Vain Post.

One Art

I Think I Am Officially A Runner Now.

Weigh-In: 25 Gone! (But Do Elephants Ever Forget?)

The U.S. (Unstoppable Sharon) Does Not Negotiate With Terrorists

Free from the Tyranny of the Free Lunch

Into the Mouths of Babes...

Something Insane Has Happened

Naturally Thin

Bodies are Weird

Weigh-In: Blah

van Gogh the Personal Trainer

2 Wins in 12 Hours

Best Run Ever

Weigh-In: A Third of the Way There!

Jimmy John's and I Have Reconciled

Healthy Eating WIN!

PostSecret - Nothing to Hide

Weigh-In: Taking Care of Business

Blues

Henry Ford Was Not A Nutritionist

Weigh-In: 15 Gone!

Hoodia

WIN: Fake Pizza

Fat Bachelor

Stuffed Sweet Potatoes

*Fist Pump*

Friday Weigh-In: Is This Actually Working?!

Half A League Onward

Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing

The CR Way - Review

Back In the Saddle Again

Not Peachy Keen

Fist Pump