Sabotage

"The future is scary. You can't just keep running back to the past because it's familiar."

(My daughter's Facebook status, no doubt gleaned from Pinterest, and spot-on for what I'm experiencing.)

Just a quick affirmation that I am, indeed, alive. However, I have not been living an inspirational existence and therefore I have not blogged. When I have any measure of success with weight loss, I have a tendency to frantically sabotage myself so that I can get back to my comfort zone, and that is pretty much what I have been busy doing.

Losing weight, while something I desire very much for my health and for my travel comfort, is really quite frightening for me. My weight is such a "big" part of who I am that I get incredibly uncomfortable moving forward beyond a certain point. In this case, people were starting to notice my weight loss through my face, I could see that my neck skin was getting saggier (gross...thought I'd be hot and sexy, not saggy...) and I received stellar lab results for my blood sugar and cholesterol. All the good news freaked me out, so how did I handle it? I sabotaged myself with whatever holiday/event I could use as an excuse, in this case - Easter. Ah, the pagan chocolate eggs and the (not-related-to-Easter-but-a-favorite) Cheetos. Make those ChEAtos. All thoughts of moderation flew out the window and I have successfully (unsuccessfully?) put myself back closer to where I started.

Like the quote at the top says - the future is scary! What if I make all of these sacrifices and my life is no better than it is right now? Having a saggier neck didn't make me happier. I know on "The Biggest Loser" everyone talks about how meaningless their lives are being heavy and they think all of their problems will be solved when they lose weight. And then it doesn't really happen and a good percentage of them gain back all of the weight they lost because the way they lost it was completely unrealistic (yeah, I HATE that show!). While my life certainly isn't sunshine and roses (unlike almost everyone else on Facebook and Pinterest, it would seem) I do know that all of my problems are NOT going to be solved simply because I am healthier. But I don't REALLY know that, because that's the future. And it's scary. What if I'm uglier and unhealthier? It could happen...

I do know that I can't keep running back to the past just because it's familiar. I also know that making such huge changes and adopting new habits is incredibly difficult for this old dog, but new tricks are definitely in order and they are doable, even at my age. I'm not sure if I thought writing a blog would negate all of the previous experiences of trying to achieve this goal of mine, but blogging is a new trick and I'm going to work it to my full advantage.

The new plan - stop reading inspirational quotes on Pinterest about flat stomachs and rock-hard muscles and get back to making better food choices. I'm lightening my commitment load until I can get this back under control so that I can get into the gym again, and the thing I am most excited about at this point is the purchase of a new bike for me yesterday. Hopefully this one fits better and will leave my tailbone intact. I also made another purchase online that I'll write about after I actually get it and try it out. 

New tricks? Woof! This "bitch" is back!

Break Into Spring

I don't know if anyone has noticed or not, but I haven't blogged for several weeks. Originally that was due to an incredibly hectic schedule between my two jobs, and then a quick trip over spring break. After that it was a panic attack over my successful weight loss, but that's an entirely different blog post. Let me start with spring break...

From a food and health standpoint, spring break was a smashing success, despite some early disappointment and some stressful incidents largely unique to the non-rev style of travel.

Our original plan was to fly to Sydney, Australia and hope for first class so that we could experience the new pods in the Airbus planes. Non-revvers don't always make their planned flights, but sometimes when they do, and especially on international flights, they get to do it first class. Don't hate. It's the payoff for accepting a lower hourly rate than the competitive market. And if it makes you feel better, the Australia plans fell through due to high tax rates on the flights and incredibly overpriced hotels in Sydney. We deemed it too expensive for a four day trip, with two of those days spent in the air, with only a very slim possibility that we would see either a kangaroo or a koala bear. And what's the point of going to Australia if you can't see either of those?! Besides, the exchange rate is bleak, to say the least, so we decided to travel within the United States, land that we love.

At this point, our flight selection was based solely on our options on direct flights out of SLC. Connecting hubs were booked to the max and so that pretty much ruled out anything tropical. In the end we decided on Baltimore as a central location for visits to Philadelphia, Gettysburg, and Washington DC. God Bless America.

Flying out of SGU I experienced the best news of the day - despite requesting my seat belt extender (as usual), I found that I didn't need one! Oh, the joy! I didn't breathe for 48 minutes, but I did it! It was a proud moment when I handed the extender back to the flight attendant, informing her I didn't need it, as if she could see that I was far too slim to even have asked for one in the first place and she had given me one just to humor me. People, that was a moment!!!

That moment was short-lived, however, as we raced to make our connection to Baltimore. As usually happens when you have a tight connection, our SGU plane landed at the very last gate in the "E" gates and our Baltimore gate was the very last gate in the "C" gates. We raced as quickly as we could with my gimpy knee and I plopped down, sweaty and exhausted, to wait for boarding, only to see the tiny little hand-written note that said the Baltimore flight was delayed for two-and-a-half hours and would put us into Baltimore at 1:40 a.m. I remembered there was a Philadelphia flight scheduled close to the same time as the Baltimore flight so we then raced from that very end gate in "C" up and over to the very last gate (of course) in the "D" gates.

I wanted to give up and stop to rest several times, but my adrenalin was still pumping from the whole seat belt extender experience and we got to the Philly gate just in time to walk on the plane. I immediately got on the phone to change our hotel and car plans since we were now going to a different destination (all the time feeling really bad that I would not get to sing "Good Morning, Baltimore" when I woke up the next day). I got it all changed and then settled into my seat, so glad that I didn't need to ask for an extender because the "big planes" usually have longer seat belts.

Usually.

My bubble of excitement blew up and deflated when despite my best squirming, adjusting, and inhaling, I had to ask for an extender. Crap. I had just run the equivalent of an ultra-airport-marathon and should have lost an additional fifty pounds since landing and I was STILL too big for the seat belt. I humbly asked for an extender, and despite wanting to eat my way through the flight, I just strapped myself in and went to sleep.

The disadvantage of changing your hotel plans over the phone while sitting on a plane is that you don't have any control over the quality of the hotel you are being changed to, so we woke in the morning to the ghetto that is the neighborhood surround the PHL airport. We quickly showered and headed out for a day of historical adventures. Having been born on July 2, I have an almost unnatural devotion to my country. I have long wanted to see the Liberty Bell and the Pennsylvania State House (the correct name for Independence Hall, as we learned from paying close attention to our tour guide whose voice was a dead ringer for Chris Farley when he was living in a van down by the river). I punched in "Liberty Bell" on my smart phone GPS and through the miracle of satellites, the phone took us straight there. Specifically, it took us to the street named "Liberty Bell" on which is a convenient shopping center. After slapping myself for being so stupid, we recognized it as divine intervention and stopped by the Walmart for refreshing beverages. We then turned around and backtracked for over twenty minutes until we reached the "real" Liberty Bell.

Philadelphia, like Boston and many other historical east coast cities, is a walking city and my legs aren't made for walking, so we looked into a Segway tour. Segway tours are all the rage in tourist towns and look to be a great way for my bad knee to conquer the streets. Until you read the small print and I exceed the weight limit. Really?! *&#^&$* I can understand not wanting me to kill a mule by riding on its back down steep cliffs to the old leper colony in Hawaii, but a sturdy piece of machinery? That's just wrong.

So, I survived downtown Philly on my own two, fat, legs after which we headed for the classic of Philly foods, the Philly Cheesesteak. After seeking the opinions of several locals, and getting several different answers, we headed to the original - Pat's. Winding through the narrow streets took us through the Italian/Asian outdoor market and a look into a life completely different than ours. It also took us through several detours as we happened to be there on the same day as the St. Patrick's Day parade and this is truly a city that takes its Irish celebrations seriously.

This was my experience with the Philly Cheesesteak:

Yeah, I dumped it all down the front of me and ended up throwing away the shirt because it smelled so nasty. It was a favorite shirt because it actually covered my gut, and the cheesesteak was just not that good. But as you can see, the weather was beautiful for the outdoor fine dining. (On a health note, I refrained from getting fries or other greasy accessories.)

The next most important place for me to see was the Rocky statue located at the bottom of the stairs of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the stairs  Rocky (aka Sylvester Stallone) ran up when training for his fight with Apollo Creed. Don't judge me, but I had a major crush on Sly when I was 16 and the movie first came out. I still dream of my husband battling it out in the ring and then calling out my name, even though it's not Adrian. My wonderful smart phone GPS led us astray once again, but the bigger problem was battling the St. Paddy's traffic and diversions. We finally found a place to park behind the museum that was available for the bargain price of $30.00. I want to say Sly was worth it, but I'm still debating.

This is me after gimping up the stairs (my husband did run them) and nearly dying (and yes, I had changed into a clean shirt in the car without flashing anyone...hopefully). As you can see, there was a big VanGogh exhibit at the museum but no, we were there to see Rocky. I'm sure the museum people are mortified by rednecks like us, but we paid their $30 parking fee so they can eat it.

Surprisingly, there are so many other stories about our day in Philly I haven't shared, but I'll just say that after spending almost $80 in parking fees and toll charges, I was done with big cities and all plans to go to DC went out the window. Instead, we spent two days in Gettysburg (again, too large for the Segway tour) and then headed to Hershey, PA for an afternoon of chocolate (in limited quantities) and a kiss with NO calories:

Cheesy & staged...perhaps. But still non-fattening. We got to design and make our own candy bars, attend Hershey U, and tour the city of kiss-shaped street lamps in the trolley. I miss my kids when doing things like this, but I have to admit it was nice being able to do everything because we didn't have to pay for seven people to do it.

That night we slept in a steamboat-shaped hotel (ah, the Americana experience) in Lancaster, PA, home of the Pennsylvania Dutch Amish, and saw many buggies and scooters navigating the intersections right along with our motorized contraptions. The next morning we had an Amish breakfast in Intercourse (insert your own joke here) and did a little shopping in the quaint downtown area. I'm pretty sure scrapple (fried pork parts) aren't on any "diets" but I did have a bite of my husband's to taste the local flavor. Not bad. Better than cheesesteak, for sure. The weather could not have been more perfect as we drove through the countryside (you know you're old when driving through the countryside is a major trip highlight) and watched as the Amish boys plowed the fields with horses. My husband was ready to move there right then, but we drove on to Valley Forge and then back to the ghetto of PHL so we could catch our early flight.

I'm quite proud of myself for handling the food options and snack challenges with maturity and thoughtfulness and was rewarded when I weighed in and had not gained a single pound. Walking through some of America's most historical sights filled me up enough with the pride I have in my country so that I didn't feel the need to do it with chocolate. That moment when we paid $23 at the toll gate because we didn't know how it worked nearly drove me to a Dunkin' Donuts, but in the end I said no, despite my thoughtful husband's offer.

I still had to use seat belt extenders on the way home, but I found new inspiration for eating healthy and working out - the promise of many Segway tours in the future (and that mule ride in Hawaii I still dream about).

Baby Weight

It's been a salty, sordid week so I did myself a huge favor by staying off of the scale today because I knew it would have been painful. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Knowing it was a 50/50 on restraint this week, I want to believe that if I don't weigh myself, then no harm, no foul. I've been weighing myself long enough to know that you can have a really focused week and not lose a thing, but eat one cashew during the week and you gain five pounds (and maybe it was more than just ONE cashew...).

One of the big emotional food bombs for me this week was that my oldest "baby" turned thirty. Besides the fact that I am celebrating how successful my son is despite his upbringing, I'm reflecting on all of the baby weight I acquired over the years and wondering if I really do have any regrets about being as big as I am if it was all in the name of childbirth. For thirty years, I have been able to believe that my weight has less to do with chocolate than it has to do with the fact that I bore six children in ten years (during the first ten years of my marriage), and I got toxemia (preeclampsia) with every one of them AND our second child died of SIDS when she was three months old, AND our next son, born nine months later, had a coarctation of the aorta that required that he be flown to Primary Children's Medical Center when he was five days old and had open-heart surgery when he was a week old. Just writing about it makes me wish Baskin-Robbins was still open.

All of this started shortly after I got married when I was two weeks shy of my twenty-first birthday. I got pregnant immediately because we only briefly discussed the timeline for children, and because I had several friends experiencing infertility issues, we opted out of birth control. This is the part where ignorance was less than bliss.

Our oldest son was born ten days before our nine month wedding anniversary. Before you judge our worthiness for temple recommends, I was induced three weeks prior to my due date because of the severity of the toxemia. I retained so much water that my own mother didn't recognize me when I was standing right next to my husband. I also didn't lose all of it after the baby was born. At my post-natal check-up, the nurse seemed concerned when she commented on how much weight I had lost. I told her I had delivered three months prior. Her response? "Oh!" Apparently she thought I was still pregnant. Not encouraging.

Before I lost much more weight, I became pregnant again and our oldest daughter was born eighteen months after our son. She was a beautiful, healthy baby girl who, because God lives by natural laws, died suddenly at three months old. That was a tough one for a twenty-two-year-old mom with Fairy Tale Syndrome to take, but we moved forward with faith and nine months after she passed away, we had our second son.

We brought him home as a healthy baby but five days later his breathing and coloring became erratic and it was determined he had a congenital heart defect that required surgery when he was a week old.  That still didn't temper our faith (or our youthful stupidity) as we had our second daughter eighteen months later. On our fifth wedding anniversary, at the age of twenty-five, I had given birth to four children. I was also grossly overweight and incredibly worn down physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Fortunately I had youth on my side and as my father always said, "You do what you have to do." We did what we had to do to get through all of it and somehow we kept moving forward.

Through it all, we were very, very well fed. Neighbors brought dinners over with each life event and we're talking really good dinners. When you live in Huntsville among cattle ranchers and dairy farmers, you get roasts, potatoes, and some of the best home-made rolls ever produced. I maintain I had my last three children just for the quality and quantity of food the neighbors would bring. Add to that all of the celebrations and family gatherings that children create and we were beyond well fed. It is during this time that I think I unknowingly sealed my fate with food. But I survive(d).

We did finally figure out what was causing some of what was happening and I stopped allowing my husband to put his pants on any bed where I might possibly be sleeping. It worked for four years during which time I bought a bike and started those daily rides around the lake. It was awesome. It was also productive and I lost almost all of my weight before I got pregnant again with our third son and then two years later our third daughter. You can probably guess what happened with the weight. That was almost twenty years ago and I'm still calling it baby weight. I think I have that right, even if it's not true.

After my last delivery, my doctor told me that I had pretty much thrashed my metabolism. My thyroid was messed up (and isn't it every fat girl's dream to be told it's her thyroid that's the problem, even if it ultimately turns out that isn't the problem), my blood pressure wouldn't come down, and I simply didn't have the time, energy, or desire to take control. I think that was all the excuse I needed to accept myself at whatever size I was and relinquish myself of personal responsibility for trying to lose weight.

My advice - DON'T DO THAT!!!

In any case, that was thirty years ago and realistically, I could have another thirty years. Although neither my husband nor I have been surgically altered, I'm pretty sure the next thirty years will not bring any more births for us. Make that extremely sure. Not everybody gains excessive weight when they have children (especially if you live in the areas of Los Angeles and St. George). I'm not one of them. But every pound I carry is worth it, if that's what it took for me to have the amazing, brilliant, and complex children that I have (and even better, the grandchildren!). Regrets? Not so much.

Our last "child" living at home is set to move away for school in two months. Since I am now too far removed from childbirth to keep blaming that for my weight, at least I will soon have "empty nest" to blame it on. Blaming others sure beats the heck out of taking personal responsibility (but that's another, more politically charged, post for another time...)

I guess I'll go put away the cashews and do a couple of leg lifts. If not, it's my own fault.

Progress

I can be positive about the scale today because it reported a 3.6 pound loss, which translates to a total of 20 pounds lost to this point. That said, I'm tempering my desire to run around the house naked while screaming hallelujahs because if I celebrate too much, it means, conversely, that I need to be depressed if the scale is less encouraging. This chick is trying to stay off of that roller coaster.

So the clothes are staying on (you're welcome), and I'm simply enjoying the fact that the shoulders and back of one of my favorite muumuus are feeling a little bit looser and AND I just talked myself out of eating ice cream straight out of the bucket since I should be going to bed instead.

That's progress.

Viva Las Aftermath

The trip to Vegas was great, but it turns out I'm not quite the party animal I thought I was and the most frightening part of that for me is that I'm okay with it. I'm the one who used to close the place down (well, in a non-gambling, non-drinking, non-prostituting kind of way) and I was never expected at home before three or four in the morning. Today I was excited to get back shortly after 7:00 p.m. so that I could give my granddaughter the new sandals and twirly princess dress I got her before she went to bed. The times, they are a-changing...

The components were set up to be the same - fun friends, dinner, a show, hotel overnighter, shopping - but the execution was decidedly different. First of all, I miss my Suburban and even (gasp) my Dodge Grand Caravan because we didn't have a vehicle big enough to accommodate the eight of us driving down together. Half the fun is the road trip and we missed out on that. We ended up going in three separate cars that divided us up right from the start and in the end, the "young 'uns" got split up from the "oldies." I'm pretty sure you can guess where I fall in that division.

I knew going into this trip that food and eating out was going to be my big challenge, thus my preemptive blog post. So I wasn't thrilled when it was decided that we would meet to eat at Cheesecake Factory in the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace.  I've never really been a fan of that place, mostly because they have one of the most extensive menus I have ever seen, rendering it painful to pick just one thing from the menu. Then, when I finally decide, it ends up not tasting nearly as good as I thought it would. I don't think I've ever eaten a meal there that I truly enjoyed. Nobody else ever seems to rave about their meal there right after they have eaten and yet it remains sooooo trendy and popular. I'm going to be bold and call it out as a case of "the emperor's new clothes." I'm saying that is one naked restaurant. Blech.

It didn't help that rather than being able to get a table for eight, we ended up with two tables for four with a table and a column in between us so there could be no social interaction between the two groups. The waiter had a tough time understanding my salad order when I tried to get all of the dressings on the side and he was completely dumbfounded that I didn't want to order cheesecake. Apparently trying to be a sensible diner is not expected at a place where, despite their ginormous menu, they have to insert an additional "skinny" menu for me and the supermodels. Ugh.

I survived the first food hurdle and the Beatles show was great for us "oldies" but the "young 'uns" didn't find it as great as we did. I'm thinking that as popular as the Beatles' music still is, there is a generational gap in the interpretation of the music and since the show followed the progression of the Beatles' music, it was obvious how drugs influenced their music over time. It did get pretty weird the longer it went on. This was my first Cirque show so I enjoyed the visuals, but those in our group who have been to other Cirque shows say the acrobatics in this one paled significantly in comparison to the other shows they've seen. Ignorance was bliss in my case because I thoroughly enjoyed it. AND, I made it past the concession stand with the tantalizing smell of movie popcorn. That was a feat!

After the show, the youngies bolted while the oldies went to Carnegie Deli, the place we wished we had gone for dinner. More food choices. Urgh. New York cheesecake is their specialty, of course, but I settled on one of the most delicious bowls of chicken broth, noodles, and matzoh ball soup I've ever had! Two desserts were ordered at our table but I limited myself to just tastes of both and left it at that. I realized I was kind of starting to get good at this being-in-control stuff!

I did get some exercise in by parking at the Mirage (where the show was) and walking to Caesar's Palace (where dinner was). They may be right next to each other on the Strip, but to get from point A to point B is a trek and I worked up a bit of a sweat, although honestly, that's not really that hard for me to do. I did use valet parking, but only because I've had a car stolen in Vegas before, not because I'm afraid to walk to the parking garage.

We headed to the hotel after I did a drive-by of the Gold & Silver Pawn Shop in North Las Vegas. My daughter pointed out to me that not everybody loves Pawn Stars on the History Channel like I do so she provided a hyperlink when I mentioned Chumlee in my last post. Hopefully you all read up on it and understand, just a little bit, my love for this show. The Old Man reminds me so much of my dad and I like to think that my house full of junk actually contains valuable, historic artifacts that I could pawn for millions of dollars. But I digress...

I slept like a rock and like the seasoned mid-life person I am, we didn't wake up and get ready until about 11:00 a.m. but it also gave my exhausted legs time to recoup for the shopping exercise later. We hit the inevitable buffet for brunch, but I was locked, loaded, and ready for bear. The salad bar was awful, but I filled my plate with fresh fruit, scrambled eggs that actually had flavor, a little bit of corned-beef hash (as opposed to my usual plate of the ultimate breakfast comfort food from my childhood that we called "dog food" because of its appearance - we thought it was pretty cool to eat "dog food" for some reason...) and then lots and lots of peel-and-eat shrimp. I can't tell you what was on the dessert bar because I never saw it and I didn't go looking for it. My dessert was one roll with one pat of butter and I was satisfied. I did have a moment where I thought, "Load up and get your $16.95 worth," but then I remembered how expensive shrimp and fresh fruit are and felt like the quality of my choices compensated for the quantity. Now there's some food maturity for you!

Our shopping after that consisted of everything we dreamed of - Marshall's and Smart & Final. This was yet another reminder to me that my wild Vegas shopping days have evolved considerably. Maybe that will evolve, yet again, when I lose enough weight that I can actually walk into Victoria's Secret without having the sales clerks instinctively guide me to the lotion section because it's the only stuff in the store that fits me, but in the meantime, I found killer deals on stuff I didn't know I needed until I saw it.

The crowning glory of success came for me on the very last stop of the day. Not once, but TWICE, I walked by the Girl Scouts selling cookies in front of Smart & Final. I don't know if you can fully comprehend how difficult that is to do for a woman who budgets about $75.00 a year for those cookies, but it's huge. A neighborhood girl will miss out on her quota this year because of me.

I conquered social eating on this trip and proved that what happens in Vegas doesn't necessarily need to stay in Vegas, and all I can say is that I better lose "Samoa" weight...  Viva Las Vegas, indeed.

Viva Las Buffet

I'm headed to Vegas with a rowdy group of coworkers from the high school to spend a girls' weekend with heck-raising educators. That's right...only "heck" will be raised. We all need our jobs too bad to risk a scandalous picture going up on Facebook.

I'm looking forward to this trip for several reasons - spending time with really, really fun women, shopping (at Costco Business Center, Smart & Final, Marshall's - PARTY!), going to see Beatles' Love at the Mirage, and of course...dinner. And maybe lunch tomorrow. With possibly breakfast in between. Yeah, I'm worried. There may be a buffet involved so I thought that maybe if I posted my intentions on this blog, the preemptive strike might keep me balanced and focused. So here goes.

I intend to spend more money on non-food, non-gambling items than on food. If a buffet is involved, I will stray towards the salad bar and ignore the dessert bar. I will strive to remember who I am, what I am, and what I stand for. I will walk the Strip with vigor so that anything consumed will also be expended. I will not take snacks to the show. And I will have a great time.

So there it is. If I get to meet Chumlee, so much the better. I'll give the full report on my return. Please send positive vibes, 'cause I'm going to need them.

Mmmmmmm...shrimp....

Big Fat Thanks

My heart is as big as my bum right now and I'm not talking cardiomegaly (I wasn't smart enough to know the medical term for an enlarged heart but I was resourceful enough to look it up...). I am completely overwhelmed at the positive comments and support I have received from so many of you whether it has been here on the blog or on my Facebook page, or even when I have run into a few of you at the gym, the pool, the grocery store, work, church, etc. I am truly not alone in my battle with food, weight, and addictive behaviors and I appreciate so much the words of advice, the helpful hints, and the encouragement I receive virtually every day.

After a week that started out with food love, your reminders that someone actually reads this blog shoved me back into focus and the net results are a 3 pound weight loss! I cut back significantly on many of my "good" foods that were loaded with sodium, and I also spent time at the gym and at the pool. After seeing a loss, I'm really happy that after a couple of days of excess, I didn't trash the rest of the week thinking all was lost. That's a definite improvement over times past, and I'm giving full credit to Internet accountability.

So, as they say, thanks from the bottom of my butt...it's a lot bigger than my heart!