I've calmed down from seeing the weight gain.
On one hand, I'm actually relieved. For a while I was feeling like I was back to my original weight, and Nathan kept telling me I was crazy. Now, I have proof that I'm still nearly 60 pounds lower from where I started out. So, that's a good thing.
I think Jess' comment was spot-on yesterday. And it really made me feel so much better. Yes, I've gained weight, but there are so many other good things happening in my life. From getting engaged to Nathan to finding a job working for a magazine, I have a lot going for me this spring. And while 183 (ugh) is not a pretty weight, I know that I can still rock a cute pair of jeans and heels.
So now what? The most important thing I need to do is to take life one day at a time. I'm going to focus on eating healthier and getting back into the swing of exercise. I'm going to (try) to choose fresh fruit over ice cream and overall make lighter choices if I can. At the moment, I'm unsure if I want to charge full-on into WW or if I want to continue my pursuit of Intuitive Eating.
On one hand, I'm frightened by how quickly I put back on weight. On the other hand, my weight gain seems to indicate that the way I followed WW is not a real lifestyle change for me.
As uncomfortable as I feel in my clothes, I do not begrudge the pancakes Nathan made me smothered in love and warmth. Or the cheese and crackers with wine we enjoyed, oh so many evenings. Or the ice cream we enjoyed straight out of the container in bed. It's been a terrific winter. And I don't feel bad about the love-filled food I enjoyed.
On the other hand, spring is coming. And I'm sure there are many more healthy ways to enjoy life, such as resuming my thrice-weekly runs, getting back into seasonal fruit, and basically returning to a more balanced diet.
I hope you have a great weekend.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
So embarrassed
This girl who thought she knew everything about weight loss, who lost over 90 pounds to reach a healthy weight, who ran a 5K, who turned her life around, found a way to weigh in this morning.
And found out that she now weighs 183.2 pounds. Over 30 pounds more than last September.
I have never felt so depressed.
And, please, no I told you so's. I already know.
And found out that she now weighs 183.2 pounds. Over 30 pounds more than last September.
I have never felt so depressed.
And, please, no I told you so's. I already know.
I may steal a scale
Last night, I woke up in a cold terror. I had a dream that I weighed 193 pounds. Don't ask where I got this random number from--it was a dream. I nearly woke Nathan up to comfort me in my distress, but then I remembered that I woke him up a few hours earlier because Leo licked my face and I was breaking out in an allergic reaction.
Fun times.
(And yes, it is ironic that I am slightly allergic to cats and have two of them.)
So now I'm in freak-out mode. Is it possible that I weigh over 190 pounds, that I have gained 40 pounds in six months? That would be a lot for me, but believe it or not, it's not my record. Then again, don't you think someone would tell me if I gained that much weight in a short amount of time?
I don't know. My size 10 jeans still fit--albeit tightly. And all of my dresses fit.
On the other hand, I can't even squeeze my size 8 jeans over my hips.
It was weird. In my dream, I kept searching for my old-non-digital scale because it's nicer (i.e. 5 pounds lighter). But all I could find was my old electronic scale with its flashing red number, saying I was 193.
I need to weigh myself. Because if I am 193 (hey, I could be a psychic), I need to do something to change that. But we don't have a scale (Nathan doesn't want one in the house), so I may be reduced to sneaking into a doctor's office and using their scale. Do you think the Syracuse University Health Center would weigh me for free?
As you can probably tell, Intuitive Eating has fallen to the wayside this week. I'm stressed with work. The kitchen is a wreck. Nathan and I wake up so early to get to work that its hard to always have enough energy to cook dinner, much less make healthy breakfasts and lunches.
Last night's dinner, for instance was a baguette, cheese and wine. Delicious, yes, but hardly nutritious.
And now I'm gulping 24 ounces of super sweet coffee, trying to buck up for a full day of writing, interviews, and photo shoots. And then we'll go home and hopefully decide to tackle the massive pile of dishes in the sink, pay bills, and cook a healthy dinner of chicken tacos (which we've been planning since Tuesday).
But let's be real. We might do what we've been doing all week. Buy a bottle of wine and order take-out.
Let's just say, I can't wait for the weekend.
Fun times.
(And yes, it is ironic that I am slightly allergic to cats and have two of them.)
So now I'm in freak-out mode. Is it possible that I weigh over 190 pounds, that I have gained 40 pounds in six months? That would be a lot for me, but believe it or not, it's not my record. Then again, don't you think someone would tell me if I gained that much weight in a short amount of time?
I don't know. My size 10 jeans still fit--albeit tightly. And all of my dresses fit.
On the other hand, I can't even squeeze my size 8 jeans over my hips.
It was weird. In my dream, I kept searching for my old-non-digital scale because it's nicer (i.e. 5 pounds lighter). But all I could find was my old electronic scale with its flashing red number, saying I was 193.
I need to weigh myself. Because if I am 193 (hey, I could be a psychic), I need to do something to change that. But we don't have a scale (Nathan doesn't want one in the house), so I may be reduced to sneaking into a doctor's office and using their scale. Do you think the Syracuse University Health Center would weigh me for free?
As you can probably tell, Intuitive Eating has fallen to the wayside this week. I'm stressed with work. The kitchen is a wreck. Nathan and I wake up so early to get to work that its hard to always have enough energy to cook dinner, much less make healthy breakfasts and lunches.
Last night's dinner, for instance was a baguette, cheese and wine. Delicious, yes, but hardly nutritious.
And now I'm gulping 24 ounces of super sweet coffee, trying to buck up for a full day of writing, interviews, and photo shoots. And then we'll go home and hopefully decide to tackle the massive pile of dishes in the sink, pay bills, and cook a healthy dinner of chicken tacos (which we've been planning since Tuesday).
But let's be real. We might do what we've been doing all week. Buy a bottle of wine and order take-out.
Let's just say, I can't wait for the weekend.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Depressing thoughts on a Tuesday
Warning: this post is not about food or exercise or anything weight loss related. And, no, unfortunately it's not a fun post about dying my hair green.
This post has to do with something that has been troubling me for a while. Usually, I can get home from work, have a glass of wine, hang out with the Nathan and the cats and forget about it for the evening. But not today.
I can't stop worrying about poverty. And I'm not talking about some far-off place. I'm talking about poverty that hits close to home, at least for me.
Perhaps it's because I'm in Syracuse, where everything is gray and bare and there's no lush vegetation to cover it up. So unlike Virginia where poverty (to some extent) is covered by blooming flowers and southern hospitality.
Today, Nathan and I smoked a cigarette with a woman who is in her mid-60s. She wakes up at 4:00 a.m. to work the early shift in the newspaper's collating room. She has worked with the company for five years, and from what I can see, is a hard worker. She is also a U.S. veteran and has served in the military for over six years. And yet, she barely makes over minimum wage. She is consistently passed over for promotions because of her age and sex. She doesn't even get full-time status, though she typically works just under 40 hours a week, so is not eligible for health insurance, paid time off, or any other benefits.
She sits on the bench with me and Nathan during our cigarette breaks and makes jokes. She bums us cigarettes when we run out. She offers Nathan career advice (since he works in the same department). She harbors no grudge that Nathan got promoted and was made full-time within a month of getting the job and she's been working there for five years. (It helps to be a healthy, young man).
What will happen if she gets sick? How will she ever retire? Will this woman walk to work in the dark and cold every day for the rest of her life?
Looking at this woman and the countless other people I work with who are in the same boat, I am terrified. There are no other jobs to apply to. As much as these people may resent their employers who squeeze them out of benefits, they need the meager wages they earn.
I can't help but think that this country is going straight to hell. The poor keep getting poorer, as salaries stay the same but all other expenses rise each year. The middle class is losing ground by the second.
And suddenly, I'm afraid that, despite having grown up middle class, I won't be able to raise my (future) children that way. It's a chilling thought.
This post has to do with something that has been troubling me for a while. Usually, I can get home from work, have a glass of wine, hang out with the Nathan and the cats and forget about it for the evening. But not today.
I can't stop worrying about poverty. And I'm not talking about some far-off place. I'm talking about poverty that hits close to home, at least for me.
Perhaps it's because I'm in Syracuse, where everything is gray and bare and there's no lush vegetation to cover it up. So unlike Virginia where poverty (to some extent) is covered by blooming flowers and southern hospitality.
Today, Nathan and I smoked a cigarette with a woman who is in her mid-60s. She wakes up at 4:00 a.m. to work the early shift in the newspaper's collating room. She has worked with the company for five years, and from what I can see, is a hard worker. She is also a U.S. veteran and has served in the military for over six years. And yet, she barely makes over minimum wage. She is consistently passed over for promotions because of her age and sex. She doesn't even get full-time status, though she typically works just under 40 hours a week, so is not eligible for health insurance, paid time off, or any other benefits.
She sits on the bench with me and Nathan during our cigarette breaks and makes jokes. She bums us cigarettes when we run out. She offers Nathan career advice (since he works in the same department). She harbors no grudge that Nathan got promoted and was made full-time within a month of getting the job and she's been working there for five years. (It helps to be a healthy, young man).
What will happen if she gets sick? How will she ever retire? Will this woman walk to work in the dark and cold every day for the rest of her life?
Looking at this woman and the countless other people I work with who are in the same boat, I am terrified. There are no other jobs to apply to. As much as these people may resent their employers who squeeze them out of benefits, they need the meager wages they earn.
I can't help but think that this country is going straight to hell. The poor keep getting poorer, as salaries stay the same but all other expenses rise each year. The middle class is losing ground by the second.
And suddenly, I'm afraid that, despite having grown up middle class, I won't be able to raise my (future) children that way. It's a chilling thought.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
A few random notes
I woke Nathan up at 4 a.m. this morning and said, "I'm hungry. I need pancakes." After having a glass of milk for dinner last night, I woke up in the middle of the night starving. Thank goodness I have an understanding fiance ;)
So we drove to Denny's and I consumed two cups of burnt coffee and most of this:
Needless to say, it wasn't the healthiest of breakfasts but it was fun. Almost like a special treat for making it to Thursday.
I can't wait to get home. Sweat pants, a home-cooked meal, bottle of wine, and watching a movie curled up with Nathan and the cats. My idea of a perfect evening =)
Happy Thursday everyone.
So we drove to Denny's and I consumed two cups of burnt coffee and most of this:
Needless to say, it wasn't the healthiest of breakfasts but it was fun. Almost like a special treat for making it to Thursday.
I can't wait to get home. Sweat pants, a home-cooked meal, bottle of wine, and watching a movie curled up with Nathan and the cats. My idea of a perfect evening =)
Happy Thursday everyone.
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