Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I began my journey on February 3rd, 2010. I joined Spark 3 days later, on my birthday. It was my goal to reach one-derland in a year. It seemed attainable. I needed to drop 72 pounds. But I was giving myself plenty of time to do it.
Or so I thought.
Because now, I am just 1.5 weeks away from my 1 year Sparkversary. And I'm stranded on this plateau. I feel like I'm standing on flat ground in the middle of the Grand Freakin' Canyon. And for three weeks, I'm standing there doing everything to find my way off, and I keep failing. I'm waving my arms, and no one rescues me. I work out harder, longer, and doubled my strength training. I watch everything I eat. I never, ever go out of my calorie range. And guess what? Still here.
It has to be the most frustrating, irritating place to be. I'm angry. I keep telling myself to stay strong. Giving myself pep talks. I'm driving my hubby nuts. He's giving me pep talks.
And I'm well aware of all that I've achieved. I've done well. I feel great. Plenty of energy. More self confidence. I'm happier. And I'm healthier. But it's not one-derland. And I may not get my birthday present on time. It stinks.
Sorry for the self-pity rant but it makes me feel better. :)
Thursday, January 13, 2011
I'm sure my closet looks like like so many others. I am the anti-hoarder. That is most likely because my grandmother is a hoarder, keeping things like a thousand plastic supermarket bags, empty cake boxes, jars, shoes that don't fit, food that's not fit to eat, etc. Growing up watching that behavior made me hate saving anything.
Except clothes in my closet.
For years, I held onto my "skinny clothes". They were jeans mostly, that I hadn't worn in over a decade. Yet I couldn't get rid of them. It felt like I was throwing in the towel completely. Then there were my "fat clothes". At some point, I no longer had fat clothes, because they were the only clothes that fit. Then I joined Spark.
The clothes that were my every day clothes were now my fat clothes again. And the collection started growing. Soon my closet (which is a walk-in, btw) was half full of fat clothes. And it got me thinking that maybe the security of having fat clothes helped me fail in the past. I mean, they are a safety net...gain the weight back, and you still have clothes.
So I started pulling out everything that was over a size 18. And I mean everything. The piles on my bed came chest-high. I looked at those piles, and the money I spent...it had to be well over a thousand dollars. And I almost had a panic attack. I gave it all away to a dear friend of mine. She has a whole new wardrobe. And I'm out of my safety net.
It's scary. But I'll be damned if I go out and buy fat clothes again. From here on in, my pants get tight, I need to get moving.
Friday, December 24, 2010
On the evening of the December 22nd, I did something I didn't think people did anymore. I went Christmas Caroling. My preacher called, and wanted to go to the homes of a few church members that were either elderly or had families with small children and couldn't get out. My 11 year-old daughter was confused by this. She asked "So we're walking all the way to the Rubinos"? They are the closest to us, at about 3 miles away. I laughed, and explained her vision of people walking door to door was outdated. We now go caravan style, driving from one point to the other. I don't think Norman Rockwell could ever have envisioned families in their SUVs driving in Miami bumper-to-bumper traffic to sing "Joy to the World".
So first stop...the Rubinos. Sweetest couple you could ever meet. They are my children's substitute great-grandparents. Lora made pecan sandies, buckeyes, chocolate covered marshmallows, and chocolate chip cookies.
Next stop was the Chin family. The mother-in-law had heart surgery not long ago. Most of us are gringos and we tried to sing a carol in Spanish for them (it should have been recorded and put on YouTube). Eva had a marble pound cake.
Last stop, was the Kinnairds. I love them. Leah works way too many hours, but she managed to bring home a platter of buckeyes (again), lemon bars, coconut macaroons, butterscotch haystacks, and bourbon balls.
This experience made me learn something about myself. I have real issues with cookies. I could have a huge chocolate layer cake in front of me, and not be tempted at all. But the idea of this little treat...so you have one, that triggers you to just "try" another. And another. And yes, another. And you get home and realize you ate 5 1/2 cookies and a bourbon ball. And how many calories were all those? Who knows.
So now I have planned Operation Christmas Cookie. It means I procrastinated the baking of my holiday treats as long as I could. And now, on the day of Christmas Eve, I'm baking my buns off, so that I can give them away at church at 6 pm tonight. I already "tried" half of a white chocolate macadamia. It was good. I will do my best to let my kids try the rest to let me know if they turned out right.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
This journey has been long. I know that etch day, I grow stronger, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Making good choices is almost natural now, and the craving for most things bad for me are gone. The reactions I get are so positive. I love when I run into someone that hasn't seen me since I started, and their jaws drop. I don't think there's a comment that I've heard that hasn't made me beam, or smile ear to ear. Well, except one....
"Keep it Up"
Now, maybe that phrase is said with the best intentions. But I think not. It's like giving a compliment, but getting in a dig at the same time. You wouldn't say things like, "Wow, you're looking good, but you still have a ways to go", or "Gee, you are so much less fat, but you're still fat". So why would you say "Keep it up"? Like, who are they to tell me I need to keep going? Are they going to one day say, "Hmm, I think you can stop losing now", as if their opinion matters. Whenever I hear that annoying phrase, I keep thinking of the perfect comeback, but it still evades me. If you can think of one, run it by me. It's always the same person, and I'd love to stick it right in her "green with envy" face.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
It was just 7 months ago that I joined Spark, and the title of my blog would be in reference to me...my waist, my thighs, and please don't forget the hips. My hips were huge. I believe I measured them at 60 inches (and that was a month after beginning this journey). I couldn't even fit into a seat in the auditorium at my son's school. Well, I could, but I literally had to squeeze myself in there, and I hurt as I sat.
Now, "too big" means something else entirely. I can see it. I stare in the mirror sometimes. I am like Lily Tomlin in The Incredible Shrinking Woman. (Ok..a little extreme).
Too big are almost every pair of pants I own (except 1, that I love).
Too big are almost all my t-shirts, which look stretched and misshapen (probably because I used to stretch them out on purpose to hide my spare tires).
Too big is my bathing suit, which feels loose even with all the lycra it contains.
Too big are my panties. I can't wait for the day I can chuck all the "Just My Size" undies out the window, and go on a shopping spree at Victoria Secret.
Too big is my watch band, which I'm now using 2 holes smaller.
And lastly, too big is my wedding band that almost slipped off last night when washing my face and fell down the drain.
I admit, I'm hoping my cup size does not become "too big" as well, but if it does, so be it. I never thought the words "too big" would feel so good.
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