Dusting Myself Off

All I can say is, it's been a hell of a week.

Last Friday (3/13) started one of the most craptastic weekends I have ever had. We had to put our beloved dog Sam to sleep and for anyone who has ever lost a furry family member, I don't have to tell you how extremely sad, difficult, and life altering the experience is. Especially when those furry creatures are the only children you have.

It was a weekend for tears, reminiscing, and bonding with my husband and our two canine babies that remain. As the days pass, we are crying much less, but there is still a large hole in our hearts since Sam has crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Depression can fuel an onslaught of bad eating. Thankfully, I didn't entirely jump ship, but I wouldn't  exactly admit sticking to plan either. Let's recap, shall we? Pizza on Friday, and again on Tuesday. Steak, pierogies, french onion soup with slices of french baguette and lots of melted gooey swiss cheese. Toast and granola. Too many carbs and too much fat. All in one week. Not exactly what you'd call a clean-eating menu, right? The less than stellar eating sort of dragged itself into this weekend as well. It's been a full week of just feeling really "lost" as far as my diet is concerned.

I even had ice cream. Twice. It hurts just to type that admission.

The silver lining to all of this is that despite the cruddy chow-fest that was happening 'round these parts, I still managed to lose a pound last week. Because I was so upset last Friday, I never got a chance to post about my 3 pound loss the week before (with Flo hanging around and all!), so in two weeks, 4 pounds disappeared. And that?  Is nothing short of a miracle. Amen.

In other news, I attended the vinyasa flow yoga class again this past week. Why I thought we'd be doing the same routine as last week, I have no idea. What I DO know is that this week was even harder than the first time - so it's safe to say, I'm no yoga guru yet. I'm actually surprised by how much I enjoy something I find relatively difficult. Usually, I want to run from things that present too much of a challenge, physical or otherwise, but this yoga thing has me inspired. Even when I'm doing downward dog and being suffocated by my own boobs. True story.

Honestly, I'm not sure I'm even doing this yoga thing right. I know the idea is to focus on breathing (something that is hard to do when your heaving bosom is cutting off your air supply), and flow from pose to pose - ideally, as gracefully as possible. Well, hell. I am about as far from graceful's doorstep as one person can get. I find myself having to adjust my positioning several times just to place myself into the "correct" position. There isn't a whole lotta "flow" happening on my mat, unless you're referring to the beads of sweat dripping from my face onto the floor in front of me. Who knew I'd sweat this much moving this slowly?

I often have to suppress laughter during these sessions. And I'm just taking a stab here, but I'm pretty sure laughing while yoga-ing, is a yoga no-no. At least that's what the tranquil background music suggests. My inclination to crack up most likely stems from my own insecurities, but I can't help myself. I imagine I must look pretty damn ridiculous trying to contort myself from one pose to another. Getting into some of the poses feels a bit unnatural. And if they feel unnatural, I can only assume they look just as, well...you know - unnatural. Child pose is supposed to be an easy resting pose that you can come back to if you need a break. I actually don't find child pose comfortable at all, especially when we first begin (probably because I am as flexible as a steel beam) so when Erin, our instructor, said I should feel free to go back to child pose at anytime, I wanted to snort-laugh and say, "Why the hell would I want to do that?" Again, it may have something to do with my boobs getting all up in my throat and choking the crap out of me. I wear a sports bra, but really, those things can do only so much to keep my girls in check. Those bad mamajammas have a mind of their own.

Another chuckle-worthy moment occurred when Erin asked us to attempt the crow pose. For you yoga virgins, the crow pose looks like this:

Instructor says, "Crow pose" and I says, "Hell nos"

I believe I turned to my friend Margaret and mouthed the words, "Holy Shit!" before simply crouching down into what I personally like to call "frog pose" and admitting defeat. Ribbit.

Still, I left that yoga session feeling good. I did what I could and know that with time I will get better and really, that is all I can ask of myself. I'll be back at it again this Wednesday. God willing.

So, with the new week ahead of me, I have to, have to, HAVE TO get back on track with my eating plan. I think after last week's indulgences (and yes, this weekend's as well) I'm feeling pretty darn guilty and am afraid that if I don't take back the reigns, like this very second, this could be one of those spiraling out of control situations. I was feeling so good, but it is amazing how a bad streak can shake a person. Ultimately, I know that it is up to me whether or not I let that happen.

I choose not to.

I have a menu full of healthy meals on tap for the week. I have some plans for exercise as well. Fingers crossed we've seen the last of the snow and the weather will be more conducive to getting outside and moving my butt beyond the one day of yoga. The desire is still strong to keep the scale moving in the downward direction, even if my actions last week didn't show it.

Anyway, no sense in looking in the rearview mirror. That gets me nowhere. Moving forward. That's what it's all about.

Namaste

Wow, it's been a heck of a long week. And it's not even Friday.

I know I was just kvetching about being home during all of those recent snow days, but I forgot how tiring a full week of school can be after being off for so long. As much as I love my job, this week I had a few trying moments that reaffirm that, contrary to some people's beliefs, teachers really DON'T make enough money for the job they do.

But this blog isn't about work. It's about weight loss - so I won't digress any further. I want to share a little bit about how my week is going in respect to my diet and my experience with stepping outside my comfort zone to partake in a yoga class. That's right...not yogurt class, but YOGA class.

First, let's talk diet. I'm surprised how different I feel this week versus last. There were moments last week where I was sure I was going to cave in, and cave in hard. The urge to dive mouth first into something sinful was constant and I had to fight off some pretty serious fat demons that taunted me mercilessly to go to the dark side. Raging PMS didn't help matters. Nor did this display I came across while shopping at Wegmans:

I'm pretty sure I heard angels singing in the background. Because if this isn't heaven, I don't know what is. 

Come on. Are you freaking serious? Can't a fat girl catch a break?

Anyway, when I was finished convulsing and drooling in front of this fattastic display (the smell wafting from those shelves was enough to send me into full on Pavlov's dogs mode), I knew I had limited time to finish my grocery shopping before I lost all sense of reasoning and took one of those bunnies home with me. And let's be honest. When I say take one home with me, what I mean is get as far as the parking lot before I rip the box open like a wild animal and bite the head off that damn thing.

Thankfully, I was able to steer my cart around the disaster area, only to find this waiting for me on the shelves in the next aisle:

Foodgasm Alert!!!! Foodgasm Alert!!!!

What the....? Does Wegman's suddenly have it out for me? It's like they knew I was coming and my defenses were down. Like way down. I've never seen those chips before in my life and God willing I never will again. Seven weeks ago, a bag of those sweet and salty suckers would have landed in my cart in a heartbeat. Maybe even two bags because I probably wouldn't have wanted to share just one measly zit-inducing bag with my husband. I'm not going to say I didn't want to buy them last week, but at least now I have the ability to rationally talk myself out of it. And that's progress. Can I get an Amen?

This week, eating in control has been much easier. My inner monologue was more about being positive about food choices I was making versus lamenting over food I think I need to deny myself. Recently, I've tried to think of food as simply a means to nourish my body versus the notion that it needs to be something gourmet, over the top tasty and fabulous every single day. Once I stopped thinking I had to have things I LOVED to eat everyday, food lost a little bit of its power over me. That feels good - I'm not gonna lie.

Another NSV (non-scale victory) came in the way of a yoga class I attended last evening with a good friend from my past life in the fashion biz. I completed one hour of vinyasa flow yoga - my first ever experience with this type of exercise. When your body throbs from your shoulders to your butt-cheeks to your inner thighs, perhaps you've done something right, no? Admittedly, I modified some of the poses quite a bit but it felt great to finally bite the bullet and trying something new.

I've never liked exercising with others because I've always thought I look stupid. Maybe it's my advancing age, but I'm really starting to change my viewpoint on that quite a bit. I'm much less, "Don't look at me!" and more, "Oh, who the hell cares?" I tried my best to follow the instructor and my friend Margaret who has been doing yoga for years. I know I wasn't graceful by any stretch of the imagination. What I did was concentrate on my breathing and revel in the fact that I was doing something good for myself. Maybe I did look stupid, but last night, I didn't care. And that, too, felt amazing.

Slowly but surely I am addressing my issues. Issues that have held me back and held me down for a very long time. These are small, maybe even minuscule steps I am taking - but with each one I feel the burden of this weight leaving me. Literally and figuratively.

Yoga will become a part of my routine, as will other forms of exercise I've been too shy or embarrassed to try up until now. Saying no to temptation, even when it's as large as a grocery store kiosk, will also become a part of my routine. I never realized that for so long, I was saying yes to all of the wrong things and no to all of the right things. It's nice to have a little clarity for once.

Weigh in day is tomorrow. I'm hoping for a loss - but with Aunt Flo hanging around, I know that whatever shall be, shall be.

Either way, I'm prepared.

Crimes of Fashion

At least this get-up adds height.

It's not your typical Sunday morning around here. It's the Sunday morning associated with Daylight Savings Time. Spring ahead and all that jazz. It's the Sunday everyone seems to hate because (gasp!) we lose that precious hour of sleep. Being a hard core coveter of extra sleepy time myself, I used to loathe this day, too - but this year I'm kind of embracing it. It's been such a looooooooong winter of what seemed like perpetual cloudiness and darkness - so I'm already planning what I can do with that extra hour of daylight. It almost makes me giddy.

Perhaps it's the fact that spring is but a mere 12 days away. That alone is enough to make me click my heels in delight (if only I could jump high enough to do such a thing without landing flat on my face). I miss seeing green grass, feeling the warm sunshine and opening windows to air out our house. I will not miss having to warm my car up for 15 minutes, the feeling of frozen toes and the threat of snowpolalypses (snowpocalypsi??) every other day. Admittedly, I've been a bit of a hermit this winter. Not UniBomber hermit-like, mind you....but close. I've not ventured too many places other than school and the grocery store for what seems like months on end. It feels like the last time I spent any quality time with anyone other than my husband and canine children was in December - and frankly, the cabin fever is really starting to kick down the door.

So, what's a girl to do when she's got a severe case of the winter blahs and blues? She heads to the mall, of course! I had a couple of Macy's gift cards that have been burning a hole in my pocket and figured a little retail therapy might get me out of my funk. In theory, it sounded like a solid plan. Having gift cards is essentially like going shopping and walking out of the store with "free" clothing, no? The problem is, when you weigh as much as I do, finding clothes that look good on you, is like finding that proverbial needle in a haystack. Fun is not a word I'd use to describe the experience.

I just have one thing to say. Fat fashion is hideous. We're talking Elephant Man meets Quasimoto and they have a baby type hideous. Strolling around Macy's yesterday made my blood boil in a way it hasn't in a long time. It seems the bigger the size, the tackier the color palette, the uglier the print, the more unflattering the cut and style. It's like Stevie Wonder was put in charge of the plus size design department and had a field day. To add insult to injury, prices are higher for "women's" size clothing versus their "regular" missy sized counterparts because they are bigger. You know, because being fat isn't punishment enough, now your wallet has to get kicked where the sun don't shine, too. What irks me is that you don't see petite sized garments priced for less than missy size, despite them being smaller....so what gives? Try as I might, it's hard not to take it personally.

As an ex-fashion designer, this type of fat-shaming hits closer to my heart than you know. I LOVE clothes and fabrics and color and design and subscribe to the belief that more often than not, clothing can make you or break you. For me, when I find that outfit that makes me look good and feel good, I carry myself differently. For the short time that I am wearing it, I feel less fat, less frumpy, less conspicuous for the wrong reasons. In other words, less like Jabba the Hut. For a while I feel pretty and don't have to think about what people are thinking of me. A good outfit can change my outlook on a given day or night and allow me to finally be the person I feel like I am on the inside. It's an amazing gift.

The bitch of it is, those prized outfits are few and far between. For someone who gets her rocks off shopping as much as I do, I can honestly say that a huge percentage of the clothing I buy is because I think it doesn't look that bad, versus thinking it looks really good. And that, my friends, is a really f'd up way to shop, I gotta tell you. I pay good hard-earned money, not for clothing that I love - but for things that simply pass muster. De. Press. Ing.

My weight, coupled with my (lack of) height, makes shopping next to impossible. It's akin to trying to dress a basketball. With boobs. And a big butt. I'll let you think about what that looks like for a second. My husband wants to know what takes me so long at the mall. Obviously he has no idea how long it takes to find a garment that flatters a body that often feels as wide as it is tall. This is very much how I felt yesterday as I perused racks upon racks of tops so fugly they nearly made my eyeballs bleed. Never mind trying to find pants for legs with an inseam to rival that of a pygmy goat. Charge extra for plus size? What about the 10" of fabric I have to cut off of nearly every stinking pair of pants to make them a proper length for my height? If I send that fabric back to the manufacturer do you think I'd get some of my money back? Me neither.

If there ever was a motivating force driving my weight loss journey, fashionable clothing would be firmly planted at the wheel. Pedal to the metal, y'all.

What yesterday's trip to Macy's did for me is plant yet another seed of reality. Weight loss is not just about one thing, such as becoming thinner. It is about a plethora of things. Things that may seem insignificant or shallow, such as wanting to wear prettier, more stylish clothes. And things that are much more urgent and paramount, like getting health concerns under control. And there are a whole lot more reasons - big and small - in between. I'm sure over the lifetime of this blog, I'll talk about many of them. But for today, I'll just stick to the gripe I have about the fashion industry screwing plus size women over a barrel.

The week ahead, with it's new daylight hours brings a fresh start and an opportunity for new beginnings. I'm feeling good about my eating plan and exercise plan this week. I'll be consuming more veggies than I can shake a stick at, plus I'm even trying my hand at yoga this week! Because of the extra daylight, I'll be able to come home and take walks after school as well. I see no reason why this week I can't amp up my exercise. It shouldn't be too difficult, as it's been next to non-existant. One Latin Dance workout during the week does not constitute an exercise plan. I'm sorry.

I really want this week to be a game changer. I feel confident that I can make good choices and get moving. With a loss of 1.25 lbs this past week, I'm now in double digits! While I am happy with the progress, I feel I can do better. I want my weigh in on Friday to be cause for a seriously obnoxious happy dance. Fingers crossed.

Food for thought: What will you do this week to make sure it's a good one?

Pour Some Sugar on Me

Good God - if we have one more bloody snow day I think I'm going to scream. Don't get me wrong. If I wasn't dieting, I probably wouldn't care if we had 10 snow days in a row. But the reality is that I am dieting...and being at home is absolutely friggin' killing me.

I need routine. I need to be busy. One might think I should be busying myself here at home, but I swear this weather has put a spell of complete lazy-assism on me and any motivation I may have once had to be productive is sinking as quickly as the temperatures outside. My ears hear "snow day" and my body takes it immediately to heart. We're talking instant hibernation mode. I become lethargic and slothful and no matter how much I try to get things accomplished around here, I can't seem to do more than a few simple chores before I hop back on my computer to mindlessly peruse Pinterest. What a waste of time. Plus, looking at all of those recipes is something akin to water boarding myself. And my own kitchen has become Gitmo.

Thank goodness for one of my best friends who called during a near moment of weakness. I love that she didn't mind spending 2 hours gabbing away on the phone with me, even helping me talk myself out of turning the big old batch of overripe bananas hanging out on my counter top into a big old no-no of a dessert. When life hands you lemons, you're suppose to make lemonade, right? Well, if life hands you overripe bananas, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to make a cake. What? ...Is that not a saying? Perhaps not. But let's just say you have no idea how much your gift of conversation helped me today, Val. I am forever grateful.

Days like today are harder than others. It might be sacrilegious to say this as a teacher (we generally tend to covet our snow days), but I like it better when I am at work and busy. I don't want to be an annoying dessert-deprived whiner, but I feel like I've had more than my share of a few idle days at home like this recently and this blog is my outlet to vent about them. Besides, if I'm typing, I can't be jamming my face with food.

Days like today demand that my mental willpower kicks into overdrive. I have to somehow summon Superman strength to avoid whatever food kryptonite might be lurking in the kitchen. Or as I'm calling it these days, the Devil's Lair. Apparently, I have reached the dieting stage where EVERYTHING is tempting now - even that gross half-eaten bag of stale tortilla chips that has been hanging out on top of the radiator for weeks (why the hell is it still there?). Even that looks good to me. It's as if my taste buds have no shame. They beg to be slathered in something, anything, that isn't in the fruit, veggie, or protein family. Carbs and sugar, baby. That's the ticket. That's what they want.

Why are some people seemingly pre-wired to crave sugar like heroin? (Hand raised high right here). My friend and I talked a little bit about that today - the fact that she doesn't really have a sweet tooth. Yeah, I don't get it either. I was born with a mouth full of sweet teeth. It's fair to say I have had a wicked sugar addiction from the moment I could eat solid foods. Some of my earliest (and best) childhood memories involve having a hefty thick square of chocolate cake smothered in fudgy icing....for breakfast. I simply cannot fathom what it is like to NOT want sugar. I wish to all that is holy that I did.

Of all the things I am proud of since beginning this journey, the fact that I have not gone off the rails of this crazy train and caved into that addiction is at the top of the list. I've done everything possible to stay away from sugar as much as possible. I've admitted to having some chocolate and one or two cupcakes from a birthday treat at school - but that's really it. And for me, that is saying something - big time. I think about it constantly and have to talk myself out of giving in to the desire daily. In a way, I feel like a recovering addict. I wouldn't give a shot of vodka to an alcoholic, and I shouldn't give myself a "hit" of sugar either. The stakes aren't quite as high, but they're high enough. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

Cleaning out dresser drawers and putting away laundry certainly does not bring me the same joy as baking and eating a banana cake with cream cheese frosting, but it did help me get over a rough patch today, and for that, I am thankful. Talking to my friend was a saving grace as well. In other words,  there are ways to get around the enemy. I'm learning.

If Mother Nature has her way, I'll be staring down another day like today, tomorrow. Luckily for me,  I have a pile of laundry that isn't going to wash itself and some serious school work that needs doing. Friday should be back to normal.

Just in time for the weekend. 

Working it Out

Normally I don't get much time during the week to post, but since Josh is still working and I have a few moments to breathe before I make dinner, I thought I'd share a little insight into what has been bouncing around in my brain today.

As I mentioned in my last post, although I was supposed to begin my exercise regimen last week, it simply didn't happen. There's really no excuse why - it just... didn't. I didn't agonize over it, until of course I got on the scale on Friday and the stupid needle hadn't budged - not even a smidge. Then I started to kick myself that I hadn't made the effort.

From all the years I have been on and off this dieting roller coaster, I know that I am most successful when I stick to a daily caloric goal of around 1250 calories AND move my rumpshaker at least a few times a week. It's not rocket science, you know? I am not completely devoid of understanding what it takes to shed some poundage. It's pretty simple, actually. Eat less, move more. So far, I've been working on the first part of that sentence. Last week proved to me that it's time to focus on the back half (no pun intended, although my own back half could use its own focus of sorts - in the form of squats). The time has come - I've got to peel myself off the couch and get this butt moving.

I'm definitely not one of those people who embraces exercise with every fiber of my being. I know a few of those types of people (my husband is one) and I try not to hate them... too much. Of course - I kid. It's more accurate to say I'm in awe of them. In fact, I would give my eye teeth to have the sort of drive, dedication, and desire they have to move their bodies on a daily basis. To those people, exercise is a way of life. It is enjoyable and fun and is viewed as something they look forward to doing.  Me? Well, I suppose I sort of have a love/hate (mostly hate) relationship with it. Once I'm doing it, I'm ok, but it's the extensive "psyching-up" I require prior to starting the whole shebang that I detest so much. I pretty much go into it kicking and screaming.

So even after Friday's weigh in and with the entire weekend wide open, I avoided exercise like the bubonic plague. It's not that I don't have any exercise equipment here. I do. It's not that I don't have 100 DVD's I can pop in to get my ample arse moving. I do. What I don't have is any acceptable reason why I didn't do it. And yet...

Truth time. I spent the weekend thinking about it. Yes, I said thinking about exercising. A lot. If only thinking about exercise burned as many calories as actually exercising, I'd be a total rail and there would be absolutely no need for this blog. Alas, (sigh) it does not.

I remember when I was younger and still living at my parents' house, I'd watching Gilad Janklowicz's Bodies in Motion on TV. There I'd sit on the couch for 30 minutes almost everyday watching Gil and his two long-limbed exotic-looking female cohorts do aerobics on their mats high up on a lush green hill, overlooking gorgeous turquoise waters, in what I always assumed was Hawaii. I was entranced by how seemingly effortless it was for all three of them to work out for 30 minute straight, in the hot sun, barely working up a sweat while I sat on the couch, sweating from just watching them. I was envious by how easy it seemed for them to move about from one pose to another. One fluid movement blended with the next. They were graceful, svelte, and coordinated. They looked like they were born to aerobicise.

As for me, I have never felt all that comfortable exercising. I feel clumsy and awkward and heavy and ugly. It's not a natural feeling process for me at all. I have never looked, nor can I ever imagine myself looking, remotely athletic or in shape (unless you count round as a shape). Even when I weighed the lowest I ever have in my adult life (40 odd lbs. ago, right before I met Josh), and was frequenting the gym and putting mega miles on the elliptical, I did not feel comfortable. I felt better....but not comfortable. Sure, I felt like I was doing something good for myself...but I did not feel like I was a natural part of that elite group of people that considers themselves fit or athletic. Maybe I just never gave it enough time????

It's tough to put all of my insecurities about how I look and feel when I exercise on the back burner but I have to, because keeping them in the forefront of my mind is poisonous. Those feelings nag at me and provide me fodder to conjure up a million excuses not to work out. Those negative thoughts make me simply not want to do it. And let's face it. Not doing it... is not an option.

I am proud to report that today, I finally took the first step. At 3:30, I locked the door to my classroom, pulled my shades down tight, changed into my unstylish workout duds, and put a Latin Dance DVD in the player, which projects up on my Starboard. For 30 minutes I white-girl sambaed and booty-shook my way through that DVD. All I can say is, thank the Lord there is no mirror in my classroom or I'm not sure I'd have the nerve to try it again.

My work out today is nothing to write home about, but it is a start. And the hope is that within time, I will make friends with exercise and find the activity that feels like the most natural fit to me. And while I may never be like Gil and his beach babes on Bodies in Motion,  that doesn't mean I can't find a motion that feels right for my body.

Here's to discovering the perfect fit for my fitness goals. To be continued....

What Type of Dieter am I?

Happy Friday!

I thought I'd try posting this evening, despite my previous insistence that I am a useless bump on a log on a Friday night. Be warned, however,  that I have poured myself a glass of wine - one that wouldn't necessarily be described as "small" - and that whatever these fingers pound out on the keyboard is entirely dependent on how quickly all this liquid gold hits the bloodstream. Let's face it, friends - I give myself 10 minutes before this entire post is complete and utter gibberish. I best type quickly...

I suppose I'll just get right to the thick of this post - which is my weigh in today. I'm feeling a bit conflicted about the whole thing, and here's why. Although there was no gain this week (insert silent cheer here), there was no loss either (insert silent boo hiss here). As I mentioned last week, there is a part of me that feels like this early in a weight loss game of this size (pun intended),  there is no excuse for a "weak week" so to speak. Meaning, with so much weight to drop, it should be easier, rather than harder, to kiss more fat cells goodbye in the beginning of this journey. So, when I have a week like this week, or even last week, I seriously start to question my dieting integrity.

I am so in awe of the outpouring of support and encouragement I have received from friends and family upon my announcement to become a healthier me. I can only hope Bruce Jenner is receiving the same kind of support for his announcement! In all seriousness, please know that your comments on Facebook or my blog mean the world to me and I take to heart each and every word you have lovingly taken the time to write. When I post my weight loss, or in today's case, weight stall, there are encouraging words all around me telling me that essentially no gain is a loss (thanks, Jamie) and that I should go easy on myself in this journey (thanks, Kelly). The rational side of me applauds those comments and knows in my heart of hearts that they are right. This will probably be a journey of epic length and filled with trials and tribulations from the tiny to the grandiose. It's not worth it to go all Fight Club on myself because if I do that, I fail in more ways than one.

The other side of me - the Fat Nazi - is angry. She thinks I'm slacking and wants to kick my ass ten ways to Sunday because she KNOWS I can do better. In my heart of hearts, I believe she is right too...
When I think of the week I had and the kind of food that I allowed to pass the lips, pass the gums, watch out stomach here it comes - I can't say the non-loss is a huge surprise.

Here is the thing. I'm not eating McDonald's on my way home from work. I'm not eating donuts in secret, in my car, in the parking lot of Wegmans. I'm not eating crunchy Cheetos until all of my fingers are coated in bright orange whatever-the-hell-that-is. I'm not eating 4 slices of pizzeria pizza and washing it down with 3 beers. I'm not eating bowl after sugary bowl of Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch for dinner when I'm too lazy to cook. And I'm definitely not baking anything in my kitchen that resembles a dessert of any kind. As a matter of fact, I have not had any dessert since the commencement of this new weight-loss journey. No matter how much I have thought about, craved, and desperately desired to do all of the above.

Not doing that stuff right there? That is what winning a battle feels like.  Have I had some white rice this week? Yes. Have I had a slice of lasagna this week? Yep. One medium slice. And trust me I could have sunk my whole chubby-cheeked face into that entire pan, it was that delish. The important thing is, I didn't. Have I indulged in 2 adult bevvy's last Friday night? Hiccup - Affirmative. Did I sneak a few small pieces of chocolate this week? Oh, you betcha. But I stopped after 3 Hershey Hugs. I said three. I'm not sure if you can completely appreciate the restraint that took because in the past, I can assure you 100%, that entire bag of Hugs would have been my bitch. Oh, and exercise? That was suppose to get kick started this week. Did it? I'm going to guess you already know the answer to that one.

It's fair to say that my clean eating has contained a few, a-hem, dirty spots.  If only they made Oxy Clean for diets. The question is: Am I ok with that? Do I want to be the type of dieter that understands there will be bumps in the road and as long as I am making some significant NSV's (non-scale victories), I should be happy, because that means I am seriously changing my relationship with food? Or do I want to be the type of dieter that gets fast results because I am steadfast and hardcore and use a take no prisoners approach to clean eating?

My fear is that by taking an "easier" approach where I adopt a more turtle versus hare role, I won't stay as focused. I'm afraid I'll become too lax and there will be more weeks like this week than there should be and weight loss will slow to a painful crawl. On the other hand, if I am too militant about this dieting thing, I'm going to snap and eventually wind up french kissing the frosting off a three-tier cake with a bag of french fries in one hand and a tub of Ben and Jerry's finest in the other. Screw the spoon.

What I want to know is: Is there a balance? If there is, I haven't discovered it yet - but I would like to. So many stories I have read where people are successful with weight loss take that extreme approach. They go balls to the wall with eating and exercise. It works for them. Will it work for me? Should I even try it?

I have always believed that food is the epicenter of life. So many of life's events, big or small, revolve around it and boost its importance. I've had an unhealthy relationship with it my whole life, despite my undying love for it. What I think I am discovering is, I can't go from one extreme to the other. I honestly don't know if I can go from having a steady, heavy relationship with cheese and pasta and pizza to having none at all. Perhaps I should cut them out cold turkey, but for now, significantly reducing the amount of time those drool-worthy guys spend hanging out in my mouth needs to be good enough. Maybe the less I let them in, the less I think I will need them. A girl can only hope.

For now, I suppose I will keep on, keeping on. I sincerely want to get better about monitoring my weekly menu. For example, if I do happen to have a serving of pasta during the week, it might be wise to skip the rice the next day. AND the next day. In other words - it's ok to make one or two mistakes, but not four or five. And let's not forget where exercise factors into this entire plan. If I had stayed on course and worked out this week as planned, I doubt I'd be making this post tonight. Or maybe I would. Who knows?

There is a new weekend and week ahead and I feel ready to embrace them both. In fact, I feel ready to embrace all the days ahead because they are coming, no matter what. I may as well be as prepared as I can be. Here's to more victories - both on the scale and off!

Weight Just A Minute....

It's Sunday afternoon and I am in complete denial that a full week of school is staring me in the face. After about 6 or so weeks of an abbreviated weekly schedule - Mother Nature created or otherwise -  it is back to reality and perhaps some normalcy this week, as there are no imminent snowstorms or holidays on the horizon. In a way, I'm looking forward to it because the less time I spend at home camped in front of the TV,  the less I think about making a chocolate cake and inhaling it in one bite.

I know I said I would post on Fridays to give an update on my weigh in. I'm still weighing in on Fridays but the posting at week's end has sort of proven to be an epic failure, simply because come Friday night, I'm utterly useless. My apologies, but until the summer rolls around, I'm thinking Saturdays or Sundays will fit my blogging schedule a tad better.

My weigh-in this week revealed another pound had packed its bags and said an emphatic"arrivederci" to my bod, never to be seen again, if all goes as planned. I'll admit, I wasn't ecstatic over what I consider to be a small loss so early in the game. But if there is one thing this girl has learned over time, it's that a loss is a loss is a loss. And when the loss in question is about that fat monkey on your back that's been weighing you down your whole life, you take it and you don't complain. In the 4 weeks since I began this new journey, I have lost 9.25 lbs. Sure, I had hoped to hit an even 10 lbs, but as Mick Jagger once said, you can't always get what you want.

There are a few pieces of my own personal weight loss puzzle that may have contributed to the smaller loss this week. Key pieces that don't quite fit what I'm trying to do which make me more than a smidge nervous.  Although I may talk a good talk, deep down, I know I am far from truly having a firm grip on this healthy eating thing. Dieting - or to be less demoralizing about it - changing my lifestyle toward a healthy existence - is an extremely slippery slope for me. Those that know me best have heard me speak convincingly of my plans to banish the weight many times before. They have seen me make attempt after attempt, all of which have not been successful long term. Here I am again, making the same pledge, and try as I might, it's tough to tune out that nagging voice in the back of my mind asking me why it's going to be any different this time around.

I know all about the poison that negative self-talk brings. It invades the body like a parasite and courses through your veins until it consumes you. It causes you to believe all of the untrue bullshit you've conjured up about yourself until you decide to just give in and let it take over. Maybe that's what has happened to me in the past. I often wonder if every single time I have decided to lose weight, I just didn't believe I could do it. Perhaps that nagging voice had more power than I knew. Doubt had a choke hold on me and with every slip up, no matter how small, made me believe there was no way I had it in me to see this journey through to the end. Maybe I didn't give myself the gift of time and patience to let it become a reality. Maybe I thought that anytime I made a mistake in my choices, whether they be diet or exercise related, meant that I didn't want it bad enough. Whatever it was, whatever the reason or reasons it didn't take hold in the past, I am going to do everything in my power not to let history repeat itself.

During this process, slip ups are going to happen. They have happened. Eating-wise, I'm noticing areas of weakness - cracks in my foundation, if you will - that are in need of immediate repair. Breakfast, as long as I make time for it, hasn't presented any glaring issues as of yet. My go to foods in the a.m. are either a Fage Greek yogurt with fruit or a chicken sausage with an egg. I'm still trying to get a handle on what clean eating really means in order to allow for weight loss, and what foods I need to limit or exclude, at least for the time being. Lunch has been tricky. I'm ashamed to say I've been using Lean Cuisines as a steady crutch, which I didn't want to do. They have too much sodium, are carb-heavy, and quite frankly, are rather tasteless and unexciting. However, on the plus side, they are convenient, portion-controlled, low-calorie, and require little thought or planning. Always looking for that silver lining!

This past week, dinners and snacks were where most of the damage occurred. I'm not measuring anything right now, and I'm beginning to see how those mindless, random handfuls of nuts here and there, along with a gob of peanut butter to accompany my perfectly-lovely-on-its-own apple, and eating hummus straight from the container, can easily pack on fat and calories, and put the brakes on my weight loss. Sure they're healthier alternatives to a heaping plate full of tortilla chips and melted cheese, but as with anything containing calories and fat, quantity does make a difference. Can I just say that the thought of measuring and weighing food makes me want to lash out like Kanye defending Beyonce at the Grammys? But I fear it may be a necessary evil in the upcoming weeks in order to keep that scale moving in the right direction. Sigh....

One of my best friends recently gave me some good advice. She told me to think back to what I ate the first week I was on plan and had a loss I was happy with, and try to stick as closely to that menu as possible. I'm certainly not expecting 4 pound losses each week, but with as much weight as I have to kiss goodbye, I don't think 2 is unreasonable. That first week, I had a sound meal plan and although it was simple, it did pay off. Meals were lean protein, salad and veggies. Carbs were low, sugar was totally buh-bye, minus the natural sugar in fruit, and yes, it all seemed to work. The past week or so I have not been as planned, or as careful, and it shows. It's so easy for bad habits to creep in, and I need to make sure that the few slip ups I have had do not turn into full-blown landslides from which I cannot recover.

As for the nagging voice that is sometimes louder than I care for - I'm trying very hard to ignore her. I do know that this time it's the real deal for me. I've resolved that it is going to be slow, and I want to learn how to be ok with that. It's not easy to be patient when I see what long road I have ahead of me. I'm so worried about having to travel uphill for such a long way. But when I think about it, being fat has been an uphill battle too. One that seemed to have no ending - just a steeper incline for me to trudge with each passing year. At least with this fresh, new journey, there is a summit for me to reach. And I will get there. No matter how long it takes.