No Goal, No Win?

I haven't forgotten this. I've just been... saving the world? Curing cancer? Fixing the oil spill? Campaigning for same sex marriage?

Okay, I'll admit it. I've been lazy. LAAAAAAAZZZZZYYYYYY.

And anxious. Really anxious. My anxiety has seriously been at an all time high for the past month, and the messed up thing is that there's no reason for it to be that way. When I get into those anxious periods, working out would probably be the best thing, but yet I cannot make myself leave the house to go do it.

I keep thinking about goals. I used to love to set goals and work towards them. For some reason, where weight loss is concerned, I just can't seem to get motivated. Maybe it's because losing weight is not exactly a FUN process? I mean, think about it. You have to put work into it. You can no longer eat your super favorite foods [because seriously? Who ever says "My favorite food is lettuce!"? No one, that's who.] and it usually means you have to cook something. Unless, of course, you want to be stuck eating nasty diet boxed food - like Jenny Craig or Nutrisystem or even frozen crap like Smart Ones and Lean Cuisine. [Not all frozen meals are crap but they aren't awesome.] And it means you can't lay around reading books and playing on the internet. You have to get up and work.

I need to set a goal. I need to KEEP that goal. But it can't be a long term goal. I'm not quite ready for that. It needs to be short so that I can get back into the habit of meeting goals. You get out of the workforce for so many years, you forget things like deadlines, I guess. I currently write for a virtual magazine, and it was kind of a good feeling to meet the deadline this past month. WHY can't I do that with my body? Is my body not worth it? Am I not worth it?

I think that maybe I am.

On point

A long time ago [well, about 3 years ago], I decided to give Weight Watchers a try. I had followed along with other friends who did WW before in the past, but this time I hauled my butt up off the couch and actually went to the meetings.

The meetings were fine. I wasn't really thrilled with the group leader, I thought she was kind of dull, but I was there for info, not fun. I learned that at the time, I could have 32 points a day, 35 "extra" points a week, and if I exercised, I could have extra points too. After years of counting carbs, counting points was basically nothing to me. This has a point, that has a point, this over here has no points, etc. It was kind of liberating in a way, because I could still eat what I wanted, just smaller portions, and no real restrictions.

Unfortunately, after losing weight for 2 weeks, I started on the antidepressant Lexapro. Hello, weight gain! I was still doing everything right on WW, I was exercising, I was really doing well in everything, but I was gaining weight. After about 3 weeks of steadily gaining each week, I gave up WW. I felt bad that I was gaining, I felt bad that the people there obviously must have thought I wasn't working the program well, and I felt bad for Weight Watchers because I was probably the only person ever to GAIN WEIGHT on their program!

[After gaining about 15 pounds, I also quit the Lexapro, btw.]

So now I'm thinking of giving WW another try. I know they still do the Points system, and now they have apparently combined it with something called Momentum so that you count points but you learn how to eat smarter, not less, or...something. But honestly? Wasn't that the way it always was, anyway? They just slapped an actual name on it this time around.

I still have most of my supplies, books and whatnot, from my time at WW. I don't THINK I'll be attending meetings again, but never say never. Maybe if they do free registration again, I'll do it. But I know how to count points. I know how to measure my stuff.

This morning I had my normal breakfast. After counting it all up, it's 10 points. I'm still full and I have 23 points left for the rest of the day. Let's see how it goes. If I want to lose 10% of my weight [the first big "goal" WW sets for you] then I have to drop a little over 30 pounds.

Yikes.

I can do it though. I know it.

The triumphant return

So today marked my triumphant return to the gym.

Okay, so, it wasn't all that triumphant. I was tired. I really hadn't eaten. I was sweating in the car because the 4th layer of Hell is Texas in the summer. I had heartburn from eating spaghetti last night. [Tomato based anything does it to me.] I was irritated because Mr. D had been talking non-stop for about 3 hours. I know it's for work, but damn. I just wasn't into exercising today.

But I did it. 30 minutes on the elliptical, sometimes at level 4 or 5. I had a good pace going, even though I felt like I'd throw up at any moment. According to the machine, I burned just over 400 calories. Larry the evil trainer wasn't there that I saw, so I didn't have to deal with him. I didn't do any weights. I planned on it, but ... no. Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow.

I did discover that 1pm is a great time to go workout, though. It's after lunch, so many of the trainers are gone to their own lunch breaks since a lot of business people workout during their lunches. The machines are basically all free. At one point, I was the only person on the row of ellipticals.

I wish I had something funny or interesting to put here now, but I don't. I'm tired. I think I'm going to settle down with photoshop and hulu now.

Blah blah blah

Exhausted. That's about all I can say tonight.

I finally stopped being sore, kinda, from the intense beating Larry the Trainer gave me on Saturday. Today was the first day back in the gym since Saturday. I managed 30 minutes on the elliptical, and even bumped it up from level 1 to level 3. Which...isn't that much, really, but it was a big deal for me. I don't know if I'll do strength training tomorrow. What Larry had said is that if I did strength training on one area, like my arms, then I should not work the arms again for a week because of the whole tearing down and building back up of muscles. So I'm assuming that means, after the beating he gave me, that really I shouldn't start strength training again until Saturday. But, what does Larry know, really? Larry could be full of shit, for all I know.

I need to put some new music into my iPhone for the gym. Although I have quite a bit in there, I'm tired of them already.

There's a new show coming up on ABC Family called Huge, starring Nikki Blonsky from Hairspray. It takes place in a fat camp, and Nikki's character appears to be a chubby girl who likes herself and doesn't want to change.

Okay. So I totally get the whole "Love yourself at any size" thing. But what about your health? Yeah yeah, you can be fit and fat. To a point. I would have said at one point that I was fit even being fat, because I could run a 5k and lift weights and my blood pressure was good. But honey, let me tell you. It's a fine fine line between being fit & fat and being just fat.

I'm kind of in a bad mood tonight. I better wrap this up.

Cute boy trainers are MEAN

ow.

owwww.

FUCKING OW.

So yesterday was my first day in the gym. When I got there, I got my card for my keyring and got things set up. Then they told me I have one free personal training and assessment session with a trainer as part of my membership. I knew I wasn't going to visit with the parents today [It's supposed to be over 100 here this weekend, so my mom told me to stay home in the AC], I went ahead and signed up for an 11am session.

Of course, I was up chatting and laughing with friends until 5am. I won't say that I regret that, because it was more than I've laughed in forever and that's something you can't regret, but 10am hit just so so early!

I go in and I meet with ... well, we'll call him Larry, just in the interest of not using his name without permission. Larry is a pretty cute and built guy around 30ish. He's also worked with a lot of women who have had over 100 pounds to lose, which is awesome because he understands that our bodies work a little differently than someone who has only 20 pounds to lose. We sit and discuss my goals, motivations, and things that knock me off course. We set a goal for me to lose 100 pounds by my 34th birthday in August 2011, although I will - if I don't lose motivation - probably lose more than that. We discuss nutrition and he tells me I really need less carbs and more protein, which makes tons of sense to me since I've always done better with that. We also discuss muscle building and when I should do strength training and that if I work my arms on Monday, I shouldn't work them again until the next Monday so that the muscle has time to grow. A lot of what he said, I already knew, but some I didn't. But I realize that all trainers have been trained a little differently, too.

And then... he wanted to hit the floor for a quick full body workout. And that's when things went to shit.

We did arms. He pushed and pushed. We did chest. We did back. We did legs. I struggled like HELL. My legs were so wobbly after doing whatever it was he made me do and my arms were killing me. Then he wanted me to go up and down the stairs 5 times. That's when my body revolted and said, "Oh, bitch, please." I made it up and down once with minimal problems. The second time, I was struggling hard. The third time, he came with me because I was seriously SERIOUSLY struggling. He didn't make me finish. I simply COULDN'T finish. And you know, that hurts. I'm not that kind of person. But when you can't, I guess you can't.

Then he tried to sell me a package of training sessions. If my budget allowed it, I would have done it. I really would have. But shelling out $400 right now...nope. Not happening. I wish I could, but I simply cannot.

He did give me the papers that he had marked all over and everything, so I think I can put together a plan that will work. I also know some athletes and trainers who I believe could help me make a plan as well. And, there's my trusty Body For Life book. I did BFL a few years ago and let me tell you, that program WORKS. I don't know if I have the strength for it right now, but in a couple of months, I bet I could try it out again.

I am in such pain now, though. Such pain. Walking to the car sucked. Getting OUT of the car was worse. I laid in bed forever because I couldn't move to go shower. My right arm is throbbing and my legs still feel jellyish.

No pain, no gain, right?

At least, that's what they tell me.

I Wanna Be Like Mike

I'm sitting here waiting on my dryer to finish so that I can shower and then.... I'm heading to the gym, baby!

Although I am excited, I'm also kind of nervous. I just weighed myself and while the number was not a surprise, it's the kind of number that makes that little voice in my head think, "How can I haul my fat butt to the gym and not feel like everyone is staring at me? What makes me think that I can even make it up the stairs to the machines I want to work on without almost dying? What makes me think that I can DO this?!"

But the fact is - I have to do this. If everyone is staring at me, then let them. Let them see that not all fat people are lazy. If it takes me 5 minutes to get up the stairs to get to the machines I want to use, then so it does. Because next week it might only take 4 minutes.

I still wonder what makes me think I can do this.

So, I signed up for a Twitter account, which you can see here in my blog over on the right hand side. Hey, feel free to add me! One of the people I follow is Michael Ventrella, the winner of The Biggest Loser this past season. Michael has always been a real inspiration to me since I first saw him because he started the Biggest Loser at 526 pounds, the biggest contestant they've ever had on the show. I watched this man the whole season as he transformed. He put the work in. He had breakdowns, as they all do, but his hit me closer to home than any of the others did. I sat and watched and cried and laughed and cheered for him. HE is my inspiration right now. When I think that I can't do this, I remember Michael, and I know that I can. I follow his Facebook and his Twitter [I'm not a stalker, I swear.] and he just radiates joy. I want to be like that. Because at this weight, I know that I don't. I know that I'm depressed and angry and anxious all of the time. I want to be like Michael. I want that glow.

The dryer just went off, so I guess that's my cue. I'll let you all know how it goes. :)

You can bank on it.

I'm having kind of a craptastic morning already, so I thought I'd blog to get my mind off of things.

A few years ago, I found myself in a pretty sticky financial situation. Lots of debt, lots of things that just weren't going right. As a result, I've lived the past 2-3 years without a bank account of any kind. It was cash or GTFO. [Or Mom's credit card on occasion, which she gave to me for emergencies.] And surprisingly, that worked pretty well. It's so easy to use a credit card, or a debit card, and you don't even think about it. With cash, you have that moment of "Do I really want to fork over $40.17 for lotion? That's two $20s...or FOUR $10s! And a dime! And some pennies! Whatever, I have lotion at home."

But, this online thing...gosh, who knew the internet would still be around right? [I'm totally kidding.] Sometimes you need at least a debit card to purchase things online that can't be bought anywhere else. And that's what's happened to me.

You see, the local gym, LA Fitness, is running an online special. $8.95 per week, no initiation fee, no long term contracts. And you know, if they'd let me just come into the gym and plunk down $10 a week, I'd be on that like a fat girl on cake. But, alas, no. Online only. And I really want to join this gym. My best friend and I used to go there, but I was never a member, I was always just on the guest pass. She was a returning member, and she'd gotten a 6 month guest pass as a perk. I was going to take advantage of that perk! Unfortunately, she got really busy with her kids, her husband, her job, going back to school, the holidays...etc etc, you get the picture. If she wasn't with me, I couldn't go. I don't blame her for stopping or anything. Although it was awesome when we could go together, I could have continued working out here at home without her.

But, there lies the problem. I have a HORRIBLE time working out here at home! We have an amazing treadmill, I own at least 20 different exercise videos, there's parks nearby for walking, and we live in a neighborhood that has sidewalks all over the place. But I just. Can't. Do. It. I always find something better to do than exercising. And I think maybe it's because I get super bored exercising here at home. At the gym, there's lots of stuff to use, and people to look at. I really want to go to the gym. It's close to my house, it's clean, it's big, it will rarely be super busy when I go because I'll probably go early in the day [even when we used to go around 6 on weeknights, it wasn't outrageously busy, except on Mondays], the staff there is really nice, the locker room is big enough that you don't have to see someone's flab in your face, and they have a juice/snack type bar. Not that I'll need snacks. But you know, it's nice to be offered.

All of this sounds great, but then I hit the problem. Do I ask my Mom, who is trying to keep their bills low and save money for movement to a retirement village within the next few months, if I can use her credit card for the gym? Do I ask Mr. D if he can maybe pay for my gym membership, even though he spent $1000 on the super fancy, blows air in my face, can hold my fat ass treadmill? Or do I bite the bullet and rejoin the banking world?

Yesterday found me sitting in the chair in front of a nice girl named Jennifer while she ran my credit to see if I qualified for a checking account. Now, in what world does this make sense, REALLY? If I'm there with money to put into an account, ostensibly to pay my bills, why can't I just put it in there? But no worries. Jennifer said the magic words. "You have nothing negative against you."

Damn right.

Lots of information and a $200 deposit later, and I'm out the door with my new checkbook, which I will most likely never use. Hey look at me, all growed up! *insert goofy face here*

I'm waiting for Mr. D to get off the phone so he can tell me [again] how to hook my computer up to the printer, and then I'm heading over to LA Fitness.com to sign up for my new membership. I'm hoping to get into the gym tonight, but my mom is having yet another crisis, so who knows. I think she has some special mom-sense that tells her when I'm just about to do something for myself and she pulls me back to remind me that it's not about me all the time. Or even half of the time.

That's another story for another day, though.

We got the funk

Okay, let's get down and emotastic for a bit. I promise, it won't be TOO often that it happens. But today is one of those days, so let's just deal with it.

Every night when I go to bed, I tell myself that when I get up, it'll be different. I'll get up and clean, I'll cook something good, I'll exercise. I'll find the strength I need to do what probably a lot of people do without even thinking about it. A friend of mine says that she cleans her house pretty much everyday because she doesn't like it to be messy, she cooks, she works, and she exercises. And she finds time for sports, volunteer work, and to chat with her friends online. She does it all so effortlessly that I stand back and look at her and think, "Why is it such a struggle for me?"

Because it IS, you know? My bedroom is the very picture of depression. The rest of the house is not so great either. Mr. D does clean on occasion, but his is half assed. Who loads the dishwasher but doesn't wipe down the counters or the sink? That guy. A few weeks ago, he was eating peanuts out of the shell and on the way to the trashcan, I guess he missed because there was a pile of shells right next to the can. Out of curiosity, I didn't pick them up because I wanted to see how long they'd sit there. Maybe he was doing the same, I don't know, but those suckers sat there for 4 days.

I just don't know. I don't know how I can get out of this funk or rut or whatever this is. If anyone has any ideas [if anyone is reading this, that is], feel free to toss them my way.

Love that bitch

Have you ever heard the expression, "Fail to plan, plan to fail?" Yeah, that's pretty much what has happened here.

I have not PLANNED well enough to give up sugar in my diet. I have also not set it in my head to do it either.

I think the main thing is - I don't want to do it. I feel like after basically 24 years of being on one diet or another [since the age of 8, when I was not even fat], I'm tired of denying myself. They say you should love yourself to make changes for yourself. Well, you know? I love myself enough to say, "If you feel like eating that cookie, you should! Don't make yourself sad!"

Sometimes I think I need to be a lot more mean with myself. Because all this love stuff is obviously not working. I need a Jillian Michaels to come be a bitch to me.

Speaking of bitch, Mr. D is in a foul mood this week. His work is making him completely cranky, and the medication his doctor has put him on to make him stay awake [he has excessive daytime sleepiness. We thought it was his sleep apnea, but after a couple of months of being on the breathing machine, it's still not better.] is making him irritated as hell. And in turn? He's making ME more anxious and angry, which is making me eat more.

There's only room for one person with a bitchy attitude in this house, and I called it first.

Help me, Holy Potato!

So I'm giving up sugar again.

Well, let me back up. A few years ago when Mr. D and I first moved in together, he introduced me to the Atkins diet. It sounded like a good idea at the time. I was 100 pounds overweight and right before he and I had met, he'd lost a good 60 pounds doing it. So I bought the book and looked up all the information, found support boards to join, and started. The first few days were hard. I won't lie - I love Cokes and coffee with plenty of sugar and cookies and crackers and potatoes. I have a terrible unholy love for the potato. I would happily put some potato products on an altar and kneel before it and sing the praises of the Holy Potato. Baked, fried, mashed, covered in butter and cream and cheese and...

Oh. Right. Atkins.

So as I got into Atkins, I got REALLY into it. I was happily eating eggs for breakfast, big salads with tuna for lunch, beef and broccoli for dinner, pork rinds for snacks. I felt AMAZING. AY-MAY-ZING! I was working out 6 days a week with all the new energy. The weight was dropping off. I bought a gorgeous pair of low waisted jeans that were truly THE JEANS. You know the ones. They sit just right on my hips, made my legs look a mile long, and flared out just right at the bottom.

I wore them twice.

Because after buying the jeans, I totally fell off the low carb wagon. I don't remember why or what happened, but we found ourselves craving Mexican food. I think I might blame Mr. D for this one, because out of the two of us, he's the one that usually cracks first. I was flying high. But I was also desperately in love with him at the time and if he wanted Mexican food, I wanted it, too. So we sat there with a big bowl of chips in front of us... and we dug in.

The perfect jeans have sat unused [but not unloved! No, Jeans! I still love you!] in the bottom of my closet for years. I discovered that corn kinda makes me sick [which is sad since corn would be at the right hand of the Holy Potato], and that sugar really isn't good for me.

However, it is EASIER to eat sugar than to not eat it. Have you ever really looked at nutrition info? It's in everything!! Plus, let's face it - it tastes good. And I do love things that taste good. The same goes with starch. At least, the "bad" starches, like white bread. But given the choice? I'd rather just not eat bread than to have to eat whole wheat. I'm not picky, that's just the way it is. Not to mention starchy food makes me hungrier.

I'm a 100 pounds heavier than I was 8 years ago. Yeah, do the math - that makes me 200 pounds overweight now. Chuckle it up.

So the time has come once again for me to give up sugar. My body will thank me for it...in a few days. Oh, did I mention that I tend to get SICK when I give it up? Like a fucking crackhead. I'm the one shivering and sweating because my blood is coming back and the Coke filling my veins is leaving. I'm the one with the massive headache and feeling sick to my stomach because there's no cookies in me. But in a few days, I will be fine.

Now, to break the news to Mr. D...

You Suck!

I think Mr. D is sucking the lifeforce out of me.

Mr. D is my long term boyfriend and we've been living together...oh, probably almost 8 years. It's hard to remember sometimes. This September marks our 10 year anniversary. It's not what you'd call the typical romantic relationship. I could probably talk forever about how NOT his type I am. But, we get along, and that seems to be enough for both of us at the moment.

We used to both be pretty active. Gym memberships, going to the park, going out. Once I stopped working and he started working from home, it all changed.

Also? Whoever said "Familiarity breeds contempt" was totally - totally - right.

Where was I? Oh yes, life force.

I think somehow we've given each other permission to be lazy. The house? A wreck. Our bodies? Complete wrecks. But yet on the very rare days he has to go to the office, I'm up and cleaning and usually getting in a work out. The moment he comes home, I sink back down in front of the computer and watch YouTube for hours.

So if I think about it... Well, I don't know what I think about it. How do you tell someone, "Honey, I love you, but you're SUCKING THE LIFE OUT OF ME!"? There's pretty much no good way to have THAT conversation, unless you want to follow it up with "And I'm leaving."

I think I need to somehow convince him that we need to get gym memberships again. We'll see how that goes.

Guess who's back, back again?

Okay. So. I started this blog last year around my birthday with the grand promises that I was going to "make this my year!"

I'm about 3 months from my next birthday and it has not been my year.

Fuck.

You see, there comes a time in every dieter's life when you simply don't know what to do anymore! You don't! Oh, you know all the rules. You can count carbs, calories, points, fat grams, sodium grams and protein with the best of them. You know if you walk a certain amount of times, you'll burn off a certain amount of calories. You know how it works. But?

You. Don't. Know. What. To. Do.

I've been trying to walk every day. I have a treadmill. I have a park with a mile long walking trail. At this weight, walking is all I can do. Do I do it every day? No. Am I trying? Well, sure.

Blah, I don't know where I was going with this.