Wednesday, March 13, 2013
What's with all the Alzheimer's ads that pop up while I'm surfing on this site? I'm starting to get a little paranoid. Are they trying to tell me something? Rude.
Now what was I saying?
Saturday, March 02, 2013
The job I have on Saturdays usually keeps me pretty busy, and I don't have a lot of time to go grazing for food. Unfortunately, there are those few good-hearted people who feel the need to buy or cook a treat for the Saturday "crew" and leave boxes of Girl Scout cookies, or a dozen of day-olds (see blog from 2/2/13), or home-made cookies in the break room. Oh, and of course, the master-planner of office design thought it would be a good idea to put all of the printers in the break room so you are tempted by the aforementioned sugary carbs every time you print a document.
"You want a copy of your test? Sorry, I don't have 30 minutes of treadmill time available to work off that document".
SO, I'm in the breakroom to get my printouts, and there are the infamous, "Hey, don't forget there are cookies in the break room" cookies that I have been hearing about all morning. And they look goooood. Soft carrot cake cookies with cream cheese frosting. Yuh-Uhm.
I look toward the door, and there is no one coming in. I quickly glance sideways each direction. No one else is in the room. No witnesses. The little cookie appears between my fingers as if from thin air--I don't remember picking it up--and I feel the immediate guilt. The internal conflict. Do I eat it? How many calories have I had today? I wonder how many calories are in this thing? Mmm it smells gooood. Suddenly there is sweetness in my mouth but the remaining crescented cookie is tumbling to the floor, as if in slow motion.
There is this moment...a silence-filled, incredulous moment...where the cookie lands on the carpet. Frosting. Side. Down.
And I start laughing.
God speaks to me, at times, through symbolic events and coincidences, to let me know when my decisions are poor ones.
And sometimes He just knocks the cookie outta my hand.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Wow. I just did a little playing with the charting features of the website, and I charted my weight over three years (Feb 2010 'til now). Those first six months I was killin' it. Lost 53 lbs. Then what happened? little ups with even smaller little downs, up down up down up down...until I am right where I am--still 20 lbs less than my starting weight, but 33 lbs heavier than I was in August of 2010.
That was a painful slap for this curious little cat.
But a necessary one.
I logged some activity minutes into the site for today. Now I have to go to the gym so it's not a lie. After logging food intake so far, I had 501 calories to play with for dinner, so I planned my evening food ahead of time and will stick to the plan so I stay "in-calorie-count".
My 30-year high school reunion is this summer, and a year ago I had planned on being at goal (160) by then. With only about 21 weeks to go, that is no longer a healthy goal since I haven't been losing any weight since making that goal. I had recently re-set my new goal to 199 by July 1, and when I had set that goal, it was a reasonable 5 lbs per month. Well, it's 7 now. If I plan to keep that goal, I better switch up my attitude and kick it into high gear 'cuz now we're looking at needing to lose 1.75 lbs per week. Doable, but veeery difficult given that I can't run anymore, and pretty much every cardio activity hurts my knees.
It is what it is, but it's also what you make it, so I'm headed to the gym. Might toss in a yoga DVD when I get home from the gym just to add a little extra calorie burn and stretching to the mix. It also prevents me from plopping onto the couch and stuffing my face.
Ah, DH just texted me that he is headed to the gym. A sign? Dunno. But it sure feels like a corner being turned.
Saturday, February 02, 2013
Yeah, let's just say that today was not a sterling day for me in terms of will power, good choices, and staying within my calorie count.
My sticky fingers are making a mess of the keyboard as I type.
Jelly and custard-filled pastries. Evil concoctions from He!!. But so sweet. So innocent-looking. Sooo d e l i c i o u s.
I fell off the wagon so hard today that I think I broke my a$$.
But I drank my 10 glasses of water. That off-sets a 3000 calorie binge, right? No?
What is there at work this morning, but a box of day old donuts on the counter. Seems innocent enough, but we all know the lure of the "day olds". So I start the day with a day-old donut and water. I'm working, seeing patients, no time to eat a real meal. You know the excuses. And I then proceed to starve myself for the next 6 hours because we are so busy that there really *isn't* time to eat something decent.
The next thing I know, I have a no-show patient and find I have a spare moment to run to the coffee shop down the hall. I am basically trying to get a quick *anything*, and the only thing meatless are the drinks and pastries, so I grab a soymilk blended mocha, no whip, no drizzle, and head back to my room.
The room where I continue testing patients while secretly consuming my coveted chocolate-blended frozen coffee. With another donut. Ok, two.
And I could feel the bloat setting in. The hydrogenated coating in my mouth was disgusting. What would get rid of that? Another donut, of course. Duh. HellO. C'mon people, keep up. How many donuts in a dozen? Think the story ends with 4? PuhLEASe.
Finally, after the last patient, I had time to put a frozen dinner in the microwave. Since I felt guilty as all get out, I nuked a Lean Cuisine. Fish, no less. It was yummy. Fingertip-licking, scrape the plate, wish-I-had-another yummy. But hey, MrTummy was not yet *satisfied*. So down goes another dodo, this one with gooey German Chocolate coconut frosting. Oh. My. God. Yes.
While I was basking in my post-sugarglazehaze, my DH texted this:
"Are you at the gym?"
Shame-eating donuts all day was what I would imagine cheating would feel like. The guilt. The self-loathing. My head is a'hangin'. And like cheating, there is a huge price to pay. Mine is an extra hour on the treadmill for every donut I ate today (spread out over the week, of course).
It was NOT worth it.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Ok, for those of you with a weak, or easily-offended, constitution, look away.
Yesterday was a doozy for me.
I was eating healthfully, making good choices (or so I thought), and had a big ol' bowl of an aseptic-packaged soup I got at Whole Foods. Gran Farro e Fagioli by Fig Food Co. It was kinda bland, but had an ok flavor, so I polished it off with a small veggie sandwich made with high-fiber bread.
Halfway through the afternoon, I started feeling...*uncomfortable*. That discomfort quickly festered into an unbelievable, pressurized BLOAT distending my upper gut to hideous dimensions. I was miserable. All I could hope for was this gaseous pressure to move one direction or the other! I couldn't "express" from either end, and it just kept getting worse and worse. I pressed on my gut hoping to move the bubble, but it wasn't going anywhere. I don't drink pop and can't take antacids or bicarbonates due to medications I am on, so I was forced to let this "pass" naturally.
After work, I was supposed to meet DH at the gym. I was terrified to go. What if "it" decided to birth mid-stride on the elliptical? I would be horrified. It would not be a typical runner's SBD that is to be excused as part of a runner's bodily musical repertoire. No, this thing would be a basketball foghorn blast as the clock runs out.
I gingerly started my strides at a slow pace to feel things out, and when nothing seemed to shift, I continued my workout with enthusiasm, albeit cautiously. After 20 minutes, the wind shifted, shall we say. Pun intended. I clenched and dismounted as quickly as one can with cheeks glued together and bee-lined it for the restroom.
I was so relieved to have clenched that bad-boy in all the way to the restroom, and silently thanked my trainer for being a drill sergeant with the glute exercises. The anonymity of the spacious stall was comforting as I waited for *something* to happen. Nothing. I waited some more. More nothing. I sat there for 10 minutes trying to get this thing outta me! When I realized that it had no intention of leaving, at least not yet, I decided to pack it in and go home. I whispered my reason to DH, who, grinning, said, "Yeah, that's probably best."
My painful passenger remained with me until this morning. Luckily I was alone when he left. And before I flushed, I saw just exactly what was in that soup and sandwich.
Get An Email Alert Each Time JENNY160 Posts