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?

The Before Picture

We went to the beach today.  I asked my husband to take a picture of me in all my bathing-suited glory. Other than being naked (I'm not that courageous), this was as revealing a before picture as I could devise. Part of the journey this time is for me to look at myself more intently and see myself more clearly than I ever have.  For some reason, I know that that is going to be a big part in understanding the why of my weight.

I'm finding it kind of amazing that what I see in the picture is actually much better than what I see in my head.  Yes, she's overweight, but she's not as hideous as that voice inside my head makes her out to be.  She just looks real. Maybe I'm more forgiving now that I have more perspective in life. I see a mom, a professional, a wife, a writer, a daughter, a student, a sister, a friend, and most importantly a strong woman.  So, perhaps the before isn't so bad after all.

But, despite fulfilling all those roles, having all those abilities, I still don't feel comfortable in my own skin. For some reason, I need to see that strength, that discipline externally for it to be real to me. It's like this is the one area in my life where I always fail, so it detracts from all of the rest of who I am.  It always makes me feel less than. I guess what I really need is a before picture of my psyche.

The results are in...

I've got a week under my belt and 3.5 lbs off of my belly. It feels great!  Although, I'm trying to keep my excitement in check.  I know this is just the start.  I've got more weight to lose than I ever have in my life, which feels daunting.  Plus, I know you always get a big kick in the beginning.  It's slogging through that middle time that's tough. Actually, for me, it's always the last 5-10 pounds where I give up.  I think I'm afraid that once the weight "to do" is off my plate, I won't know what to do with myself.

I had an interesting conversation with my life coach, Amy, yesterday about what my weight is costing me. Aside from a way to beat myself up (and at one time in my life romance), I don't think I've seriously considered the costs.  The health one doesn't really resonate for me because I've never been so heavy for that to really factor in.  Plus, I've always been younger. The one thing that really hit me was when she asked me how many hours a week I spend thinking/obsessing/dealing with my weight. I came up with five.  When you multiply that by my hourly professional rate, I'm losing $500 a week because I'm fat.  That's more than $25,000 a year.  Holy crap!  I could totally use that money.  

So, I've got a new motivation now.  Add that to not wanting to scar my daughter with my food challenges and that's a pretty compelling reason to succeed this time.  

Game on

I'm making the commitment.  I finally decided yesterday after a month of the scale not moving (because I really haven't been doing anything to make it move) that it was time to take some kind of action. Some pictures from my recent high school reunion were also a good catalyst (yikes!). Joining Weight Watchers right now just wouldn't be financial smart, but the reality is that I've done WW enough that I know how to follow the program. It's not brain surgery.  Of course, not going to meetings means going without the personal support, but maybe I'll hit up some of my friends to join me on this adventure.  

The Internet is such a great help.  I couldn't remember how many points I should be having, but you can find anything with a Google search. I've got 35 points a day to work with.  Thank God for breastfeeding!  I better get this done before Mattie starts eating solids.  That extra 10 points really helps. 

Yesterday actually went really well and I even had pizza with friends for dinner.  It actually feels good to be doing something and not just wishing for the weight to come off. I even told my husband today and his wonderful, immediate response was that he'd stop bringing junk into the house.  Gotta love his skinny soul :).

So, I'm on a 51 pound journey at this point. It seems daunting, but I know I can do it.  I have to do it! I really don't want to pass on this fucked up relationship with food to my daughter.  It's a struggle I hope she can live without.