It's been awhile...

My blog lost steam. Or, maybe life caught up with me. Not sure which, and I'm not sure it matters. What does matter is that today I'm writing again. A lot has changed. A lot has stayed the same.

I guess I've probably changed most. I'm down almost 40 pounds from where I started last year. It's been the result of lots of hard work, a ton of support from my family and friends, and simply the passage of time. I'm feeling much more comfortable in my own skin, and yet, in some ways closer to my demons. I'm embarking on the next really hard part, the part I've never overcome before — actually getting to my goal.

I hit a big goal on Saturday. My friend Bear and I were doing a 10% challenge and I hit it by the deadline. I'm incredibly proud of this and still basking in the glow of doing what I said I would. But, gnawing at me is the need to do the same thing for this last 7.5 lbs. It's not a lot, 7.5 lbs, especially when you consider where I've come from. But, it's a tough hurdle for me. Hitting this goal means no longer being the "fat kid." It means living up to my potential. It means moving beyond the limitations I'm pretty damn comfortable with.

While I'm terrified of what these coming weeks and months have in store in this journey, I think I'm ready to move on. I'm enjoying the attention. I like being free of the burden of extra weight. And I'm excited to have this off my to do list. There are way bigger fish to fry if I let myself.

When is it enough?

My name is Janelle and I am a scale-oholic.  I had an inkling of this last week, but it's now been confirmed.  I was able to stay off it for three days and then I caved.  Granted, I wasn't as obsessive as I've been in the past, but it was a twice a day thing earlier this week. 

I always thought the scale was a way to keep myself accountable. What I realized this past week is that it may be more a way to let myself off the hook. The fact that I busted it out on Sunday to determine if I needed to take a run was the dead giveaway.  I told myself that if I was down I could stay home and relax.  I was the same, so on went the running shoes. It made me realize that what the scale says sometimes determines if I say yes to the cookies during the day, or slack off tracking my points, or let myself make less healthy choices in general. In many ways, it's not keeping me accountable at all.  It's keeping me stuck.

In my coaching session this week, Amy posed the big, looming question to me - "Can I have a healthy interaction with the scale?" My immediate response was a resounding NO!  But, am I ready to give it up?  I feel like I started this journey to lose weight. It wasn't about getting healthy, it was about losing weight.  That requires a scale. Maybe at the point where I'm in the non-overweight zone, I can think about it, but right now I don't think I'm ready. 

Don't get me wrong, I know this is a sick relationship.  This morning when I had lost a half a pound for the week, I went through the "is that all?" feeling.  Even though it was a loss.  Even though I had maintained what I have already dropped and then some.  Even though a half a pound is a respectable amount, it wasn't enough for me.  Again, I'm in that place where I want to see the finish line. But, maybe I do see it, but it looks a little different than I thought it would.  Maybe the finish line is a life where I'm not measuring my happiness by a number on the scale. I'm letting that idea roll around in my head a bit.  I'm definitely not there, yet. I still want pounds off my frame at this point.  But, I am willing to consider that once I get closer to my "goal," maybe I can rethink the end game and consider a different place to end up.  Maybe. 

Ma'am, please step away from the scale...

I am obsessed with those little digital numbers.  Okay, so they're not so little, but they are getting smaller. Regardless, I have to confess to being a serial weigher. I don't just step on the scale daily.  I step on it multiple times a day wondering, "Gee, where am I now?" as if magically the number is going to be 40lbs lighter within 12 hours of my last foray. It's not rational and it's definitely compulsive, but it's what I do. 

I'm actually not sure what this obsession is all about. I think it's part wishful thinking, part accountability and part masochism. I remember the first time I did Weight Watchers in my early twenties I didn't own a scale. Every week I didn't know what the scale would say until I stepped up. It was actually really lovely. Buying a scale was like Eve taking a bite of that apple — it opened my eyes but eliminated my innocence. And I picked the juiciest apple around - not just a scale, but a scale that measures your body fat.  Talk about TMI!

So, the big question now is how to rein in my scale obsession while still remaining accountable. The reality is, if I'm tracking my points truthfully, I know how my week has gone.  There's no mystery there. Stepping on the scale over and over is part ritual and part sheer meanness.  As much as I want to quit cold turkey, my truth is that I'm addicted. So, it's going to be a matter of baby steps. Maybe for this week I'll just make it a morning habit.  Or maybe, I'll find the courage to step on it tomorrow and stash it away for a week. Maybe if I just move it onto a shelf or into the laundry room behind a box or two, the sheer effort to get it out will perhaps deter me.  Or, maybe I need to enlist Charly's help to hide it. My self-control only goes so far.  I need some serious intervention.

You know, the idea of a week where my mood isn't determined by a digital read-out is really  appealing....

Are We There Yet?

And so it begins, the waning motivation. It's about the right timing - a month in.  I just want to be done with this weight loss thing. I'm bored. I guess after dealing with this for about 30 years I would be bored.  It's just that I want to get to the finish line this time and I can't afford to be bored, yet.

I've officially lost seven pounds so far.  We'll see what this week holds on Wednesday morning. I guess this is where making that whole shift from "dieting" to "lifestyle change" would help. I'm so not there, yet. It doesn't help that I live with a man who can eat anything he wants and never gain a pound. Hell yes, I'm envious. Am I really going to have to thoughtfully consider what I put in my mouth FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE???? Ugh! We all have our own unique challenges in life, right? 

Maybe I just need to dial back the intensity of my resentment about mine. I mean really, how hard is it to consider what I put in my mouth and avoid stuffing down my emotions with food?Ok, some days it's really hard. But, only because I make it that way. I know there's a part of me that likes wallowing in my weight, a part that worries about the fact that once I tackle this I'll have to look at something deeper. Plus, my weight is my protective coating, my armor that keeps me safe from rejection and in the failure I know. What if what I'm feeling isn't so much boredom as it is fear?  What if I'm scared of the steady progress? What if the slow steady route is making me look at things a little differently and more deeply? Ok, I'm not bored.  I'm terrified of what I'm about to uncover.

I think I just ate an emotion.

Sometimes I have what I call "Bottom-less Pit" days.  It's like I just can't stop eating and honestly for most of it I really believe I'm hungry. I had one of those on Saturday.  In all fairness, I did go for a run that morning.  But I don't think a 1.25 mile run really qualifies as appetite stimulation. Throughout the rest of the day, I seriously couldn't stop shoving things in my mouth. The fact that we had to drive down to San Diego that afternoon meant that I ended up eating every snack we packed.  I shared a bit, but no one else in the car seemed quite as interested in the food bag as I did.

In thinking about it later, I realized that I was actually really fearful and sad about the trip and I think that's what my appetite was about — comfort.  A family friend had died the week previous and we were going down to be there for the memorial service. The scary thing was that during the day what I was feeling didn't even register.  

I pretty much have two emotional speeds - happy and angry.  Anything outside of those two just kind of feels numb. And with negative emotions, my coping mechanism of filling my stomach kicks in automatically.  I don't even realize it's happening.  That's actually a frightening thought for me. I'm on auto-pilot, so how can I correct the plummeting?  I guess it's like anything else - pay more attention. It's just so hard. Digging emotions out from under years of repression is an arduous task. I guess that's part of what I signed up for with this blog and my "once and for all" attitude.  Some days it just feels like I'm not up to the task.  

Run, Janelle, Run

I did it!  I got my feet in my running shoes and my ass outside for a run.  It was a short one - 1.25 miles, but it was a run without stopping. Given my pace, it might be better termed a jog. After the fact, it felt great.  And, truth be told, during wasn't THAT bad. It wasn't great, don't get me wrong, but I could do it.  My knees were definitely complaining that I have 46 extra pounds on my frame right now.  I just told them I was working on it.

Maybe finding a 5K or 10K to sign up for would be a good idea.  That will get me on more of a structured training regimen.  I do much better that way.  I'm terrified of being shamed in the effort - of failing - so it motivates me.  Negative motivation probably isn't the healthiest, but for now, it works. 

During my run, I was supposed to be thinking about something I read last night from Geneen Roth (instead I was counting the minutes:)).  It's definitely something I want to mull and explore. Nothing groundbreaking, except that it got me wanting to think about how it applies to me.  Basically, it's that any compulsion is really just a replacement for a deep-seated fear. She asked, "If you weren't worried about your weight, what would you be worried about?" Off the top of my head, I don't really know.  I've buried it very well.  

Ultimately, it all goes back to the time when the compulsion started.  What were you trying to make up for?  I've been chubby since I was little, so I've got a lot of digging to do.  There's something in there for me about loneliness. I think my compulsive eating started when I would be home alone after school in elementary school. It was something to do. But, more than that, I think my parents were stretched pretty thin in their lives. I got most of what I wanted materially, but there wasn't a lot of attention left over.  Add to that my dad moving out when I was 11 and that sounds like a recipe for fat. I'm sure this will be fodder for more posts in the future...

Slow Down, Sister

It only took a week and the progress has slowed.  Actually, perhaps it's my enthusiasm.  I did lose a pound this week, so I should be thrilled.  But, in true Veruca Salt form, I want more and I want it NOW! In my mind, that whole nine months on, nine months off thing is bullshit. In my revisionist history, it felt like I peed on the stick and gained 50 pounds immediately. Oh well.  Slow and steady, right?

It probably didn't help that we went to San Diego for a few days of "vacation" the past few days. My mom's house isn't exactly a domain of healthy eating. She bought the 12-pack of cinnamon rolls at Costco for our breakfast.  To my credit, I mostly resisted (except for a few nibbles from Gus's half eaten one), and what I did eat, I accounted for. But then there was the trip to Legoland and then to DZ Akins and then to Corvette Diner.  Oddly enough I was craving salads, so that worked to my advantage. It was really more about the portion sizes. What is it about having a plate of food in front of you that makes it impossible to stop munching?

So, despite my impatience, I'm 4.5 pounds down.  A half more pound and I get to treat myself to something I've been wanting to buy for awhile - a Ped-Egg.  It's this little pumice stone like thing that I've heard people rave about. I'm having soft feet envy with my daughter.  So, it's my way to celebrate.  Whatever keeps me motivated, right?