As I started this new journey, it was like looking through a brand new pair of glasses. Everything I did was examined. If I was pushing the stroller, could I push faster? If I had a doctor's appointment, I took the stairs instead of the elevator. When I was grocery shopping, I parked several spots farther back in the parking lot. Remember: standing is better than sitting. Walking is better than standing. And so on and so forth.
How could I get exercise into my everyday life? It became my mission - to figure out a way to work up a sweat for 20 minutes a day, 4x a week, and I would go from there. That seemed like a reasonable goal.
Now... food. I love food. I love the way it smells. The way it tastes. The way it crunches. I love the way it grows and the art of cooking it perfectly. I love most everything about it. ....Except ketchup.... but that's another story. This was going to be tough. But, there has to be a way to eat the things I love without, er - the proof I love it.
What did I eat really? Well, I decided to start writing it down. Every little morsel I put into my mouth. Every drink I took, every bite I chomped. At the end of the day, I reviewed it. Was I happy about what I ate that day? How could I improve the nutrition of it while still enjoying it? One thing I was determined about was I had to like it. No stinkin' rice cakes (unless they were yummy) for this girl - hell no. After all, this is a lifestyle change. If I couldn't have some ice cream, chocolate, earthy steak, aged whiskey or wonderfully seductive, creamy cheesecake - then no dice. You are supposed to live. And, if I couldn't have some things once in a while, then this wasn't for me. And, truthfully people, the answer is simple. And we just stated it: once in a while. What I've learned is your body reacts to what you do to it in the every day, not in the every once in a while. Don't believe me? How many of you have made it from November 1 - January 15 with out gaining an ounce? But, you still ate your Grandma's German potato balls smothered in gravy? You still tried every piece of pie on the Thanksgiving spread? Then, you tempted fate and ask Santa Claus for some of those luscious Hersey's Kisses with the caramel inside to be nestled in your stocking? Yes! It can be done.
Look at what you eat every day. Then over the course of a week. Then a month. This is the plan your body expects. When you change the plan, your body expects different things, and it reacts differently. For instance, my body expects that I do not eat a large amount of grease.
When I do..... let's just say I hear loud and clear from my body that it does not like that choice. If I don't have a green salad in two days, if not every day, I crave it.
Look at your favorite foods and meals. How can you make it healthier for yourself? More on that later.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Getting Real
Monday was a new day. It sounds weird, but I woke up different; with a greater purpose. Brushing my teeth that morning, I looked at my face that was all swollen and blotchy from crying so much the night before. I had not one clue how to tackle this huge problem.
Let's start at the beginning, I thought. For starters, I didn't know how much I truly weighed. I mean, I knew I was overweight. I was probably around 200 pounds or so. I didn't own a scale. I always said "it wasn't important to me." Looking back now, I was kidding myself and I should've had one. Everyone should. It keeps you honest and helps keep you on track. As luck would have it, Charlotte had her one year check up that day.
After the nurse weighed Charlotte and took her height, I asked if I could weigh myself. A doctor's office was a perfect place to weigh for an accurate starting weight. As the nurse escorted Charlotte to the room, I jumped on the scale and slid the weights. I couldn't believe my eyes. There, as plain as day: 220 pounds.
Charlotte was came away with being deemed a healthy, thriving one-year old. I held it together until I got into the car. Then, I cried, but only for a minute. After all, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. I just had a little farther to go than I previously thought.
Now I knew what I was working with. Now, what to do about it? We arrived home and I thought to myself, I've got to get moving. What can I do? I don't run, I don't have any weights.... Then, I thought I'd taking Charlotte for a walk in the stroller. After all, standing is better than sitting. Walking is better than standing. I loaded her in and off we went. We strolled along and I thought, well, no day like the present. I began to walk as fast as my little legs would carry me. Charlotte squealed with delight, she loved the fast pace! I could feel my heart pumping and the beads of sweat forming on my neck. When I started to get tired, I pushed harder. This was not going to be easy. Don't wimp out in the first 12 hours. Up the hill. Faster. Don't stop....
Before I knew it, 20 painful minutes had elapsed. We stopped in front of our house and Charlotte was clapping and laughing. I had sweat rolling down my back and pooled on my chest. As I gasped, trying to catch my breath, I realized: I feel fantastic. Not to mention Charlotte had a blast.
We went inside to the comfort of air conditioning and water. I set Charlotte up with a snack in the highchair. What else could I do? I didn't have weights, but I knew how important weight training was. Then, I had an idea. Next to the Cheerios were two family-sized can of Cream of Chicken soup. I picked up each. A good start I thought... so, as Charlotte ate her cereal, I stood behind her with a can of soup in each hand and slowly and methodically raised my arms up to 180 degrees, then above my head, than back to 180 and down. I did several sets of these. After a while, my shoulders and arms felt tired.
As far as eating went, I focused on two things: low fat and limiting my carbohydrates. I already knew the dangers of eating too many carbs from a bout of gestational diabetes. I began reading labels and most importantly, I wrote everything that I put in my mouth down on paper. Why? It keeps it real. You can't lie to yourself. It sits there and stares you in the face.
And, after a week, you can see what worked for you if you lost weight. Or, if you didn't, what didn't work.
Not a bad start, I thought. The first whole day ended on a high note; I needed that. This was going to be a long road. Deep breath. One foot in front of the other....
[note: there is a great website out now that I WISH I had at the time. Check out MyFitnessPal.com]
Let's start at the beginning, I thought. For starters, I didn't know how much I truly weighed. I mean, I knew I was overweight. I was probably around 200 pounds or so. I didn't own a scale. I always said "it wasn't important to me." Looking back now, I was kidding myself and I should've had one. Everyone should. It keeps you honest and helps keep you on track. As luck would have it, Charlotte had her one year check up that day.
After the nurse weighed Charlotte and took her height, I asked if I could weigh myself. A doctor's office was a perfect place to weigh for an accurate starting weight. As the nurse escorted Charlotte to the room, I jumped on the scale and slid the weights. I couldn't believe my eyes. There, as plain as day: 220 pounds.
Charlotte was came away with being deemed a healthy, thriving one-year old. I held it together until I got into the car. Then, I cried, but only for a minute. After all, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. I just had a little farther to go than I previously thought.
Now I knew what I was working with. Now, what to do about it? We arrived home and I thought to myself, I've got to get moving. What can I do? I don't run, I don't have any weights.... Then, I thought I'd taking Charlotte for a walk in the stroller. After all, standing is better than sitting. Walking is better than standing. I loaded her in and off we went. We strolled along and I thought, well, no day like the present. I began to walk as fast as my little legs would carry me. Charlotte squealed with delight, she loved the fast pace! I could feel my heart pumping and the beads of sweat forming on my neck. When I started to get tired, I pushed harder. This was not going to be easy. Don't wimp out in the first 12 hours. Up the hill. Faster. Don't stop....
Before I knew it, 20 painful minutes had elapsed. We stopped in front of our house and Charlotte was clapping and laughing. I had sweat rolling down my back and pooled on my chest. As I gasped, trying to catch my breath, I realized: I feel fantastic. Not to mention Charlotte had a blast.
We went inside to the comfort of air conditioning and water. I set Charlotte up with a snack in the highchair. What else could I do? I didn't have weights, but I knew how important weight training was. Then, I had an idea. Next to the Cheerios were two family-sized can of Cream of Chicken soup. I picked up each. A good start I thought... so, as Charlotte ate her cereal, I stood behind her with a can of soup in each hand and slowly and methodically raised my arms up to 180 degrees, then above my head, than back to 180 and down. I did several sets of these. After a while, my shoulders and arms felt tired.
As far as eating went, I focused on two things: low fat and limiting my carbohydrates. I already knew the dangers of eating too many carbs from a bout of gestational diabetes. I began reading labels and most importantly, I wrote everything that I put in my mouth down on paper. Why? It keeps it real. You can't lie to yourself. It sits there and stares you in the face.
And, after a week, you can see what worked for you if you lost weight. Or, if you didn't, what didn't work.
Not a bad start, I thought. The first whole day ended on a high note; I needed that. This was going to be a long road. Deep breath. One foot in front of the other....
[note: there is a great website out now that I WISH I had at the time. Check out MyFitnessPal.com]
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Day 1
Sunday, July 20, 2008.
This day is burned into my psyche. This day is one day after my oldest daughter, Charlotte's, first birthday party. The party was fantastic. We had tons of friends and family over for a cook-out to celebrate. It was really hot outside, in the lower nineties. But, we are fortunate and have really great friends and family. They braved the heat anyhow and Charlotte had received so many gifts and goodies that it looked like Christmas in July.
Now, the last of the Elmo balloons had been deflated and the trash had all been hauled to the curb.
I was flipping through our digital camera looking at photos. In this day and age, of course, no waiting for the film to develop. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was huge. I mean, not just a little overweight, but really overweight. I put the camera away. I couldn't even focus on my child in the frame because of how overwhelmed I was by my size. What happened to me? Yes, I had a child. Yes, I was diabetic. Yes, I worked a lot and was always tired it seemed. But, is this OK with me? My husband, Grant, loved me no matter what size I was. But, did I love me?
As I prepared to get in the shower that night, I stripped down to nothing and looked at myself in the mirror. I was so ashamed. I mean, really ashamed of myself. What a mess.
I got in the shower and washed. All I could think of was how my belly was big enough I couldn't see my toes; the flab under my arm; my second chin.... and the list went on.
I got out of the shower, toweled off and looked back in the mirror. Then, cried my eyes out. Not one of those "poor me" cries - but cried. I sobbed so heavily my shoulders ached. The sobs were pouring out so fearce at this point, I buried my head in the towel to muffle my wails so I didn't wake my baby.
I was hurting. The pain that only comes from hating yourself. Even as I write this today, now three years later, the tears are rolling down my cheek because the memory of that day burns. It's taken me a week to even get the guts to put this on "paper" for total strangers and friends to read.
So, there I sat, naked on the bathroom floor with my face buried in a puddle of snot, tears and hair matted to my face.
Then something snapped.
"You dumb fool," I said out loud to myself. "You did this yourself. So, are you going to cry about it? Who's going to save you from yourself? Poor baby. You drank and partied too much. You had a baby. So what? You danced when the band played and it's time to pay up. Those things don't come with out a price."
Now, I was pissed. I stood up and looked at myself again. People have babies everyday. You aren't special. No doctor is going to get rid of this weight. You got yourself into this mess and you damned well will get yourself out. Do you want your children to see an example of a woman like this? No. Hell no. My kids will never see this sorry excuse for a woman. It's not good enough.
I pinched my fat belly, rubbed my double chin and washed my face. I starred straight at myself and said out loud "it stops today". Those three words have never been so incredibly powerful.
Monday was the start of a brand new life.
This day is burned into my psyche. This day is one day after my oldest daughter, Charlotte's, first birthday party. The party was fantastic. We had tons of friends and family over for a cook-out to celebrate. It was really hot outside, in the lower nineties. But, we are fortunate and have really great friends and family. They braved the heat anyhow and Charlotte had received so many gifts and goodies that it looked like Christmas in July.
Now, the last of the Elmo balloons had been deflated and the trash had all been hauled to the curb.
I was flipping through our digital camera looking at photos. In this day and age, of course, no waiting for the film to develop. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was huge. I mean, not just a little overweight, but really overweight. I put the camera away. I couldn't even focus on my child in the frame because of how overwhelmed I was by my size. What happened to me? Yes, I had a child. Yes, I was diabetic. Yes, I worked a lot and was always tired it seemed. But, is this OK with me? My husband, Grant, loved me no matter what size I was. But, did I love me?
As I prepared to get in the shower that night, I stripped down to nothing and looked at myself in the mirror. I was so ashamed. I mean, really ashamed of myself. What a mess.
I got in the shower and washed. All I could think of was how my belly was big enough I couldn't see my toes; the flab under my arm; my second chin.... and the list went on.
I got out of the shower, toweled off and looked back in the mirror. Then, cried my eyes out. Not one of those "poor me" cries - but cried. I sobbed so heavily my shoulders ached. The sobs were pouring out so fearce at this point, I buried my head in the towel to muffle my wails so I didn't wake my baby.
I was hurting. The pain that only comes from hating yourself. Even as I write this today, now three years later, the tears are rolling down my cheek because the memory of that day burns. It's taken me a week to even get the guts to put this on "paper" for total strangers and friends to read.
So, there I sat, naked on the bathroom floor with my face buried in a puddle of snot, tears and hair matted to my face.
Then something snapped.
"You dumb fool," I said out loud to myself. "You did this yourself. So, are you going to cry about it? Who's going to save you from yourself? Poor baby. You drank and partied too much. You had a baby. So what? You danced when the band played and it's time to pay up. Those things don't come with out a price."
Now, I was pissed. I stood up and looked at myself again. People have babies everyday. You aren't special. No doctor is going to get rid of this weight. You got yourself into this mess and you damned well will get yourself out. Do you want your children to see an example of a woman like this? No. Hell no. My kids will never see this sorry excuse for a woman. It's not good enough.
I pinched my fat belly, rubbed my double chin and washed my face. I starred straight at myself and said out loud "it stops today". Those three words have never been so incredibly powerful.
Monday was the start of a brand new life.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Foreword
I've never written a blog. Never written a book. To be honest, I only kept a journal when I was forced to in English in high school. Letting people into our weird little worlds that we create opens us up to vulnerability. And, as a rule, most of us avoid it. For good reason, really. But, even knowing all of the risks, here I sit in the glow of a laptop, selecting the thoughts out of my own weird little world to share with hundreds of you. Maybe thousands if you feel like you should share it with others. And, I'm OK with that.
After months of urging from a dozen friends of so, I've decided to blog about this incredible, life changing journey I started 3 years ago. Even I think it's amazing. And, I'm mostly convinced not many people will take the time to read this. But, if I convince even one person to take the steps that will reconstruct their world so that they feel as great as I do almost every day, it is worth it. And I mean that.
As I sit here today, I have lost a total of 63 pounds (with about 10-18 more to go). I have went from a couch potato who was exhausted from everyday life to an empowered athlete that completed a half marathon, running the whole way, with ambitions of running a full marathon in 2014. I guess what makes my situation unique is that I didn't have a personal trainer or dietitan. I didn't have thousands of dollars in home gym equipment. What I did have was a husband who worked nights, bouts with gestational diabetes, 2 kids under the age of 3 whom I breast fed 10 months each, a job that demanded 30+ hours a week, a budget to keep in mind while shopping for healthy food and quite possibly one of the most stubborn outlooks on life you've ever met.
This is how I did it. The bare bones, the tears, the sweat, the prayers to God for strength and the up-at-dawn-this-is-my-dream-and-I'll-be-damned-if-I-fail story.
I hope you draw inspiration from this to begin writing a story of your own.
After months of urging from a dozen friends of so, I've decided to blog about this incredible, life changing journey I started 3 years ago. Even I think it's amazing. And, I'm mostly convinced not many people will take the time to read this. But, if I convince even one person to take the steps that will reconstruct their world so that they feel as great as I do almost every day, it is worth it. And I mean that.
As I sit here today, I have lost a total of 63 pounds (with about 10-18 more to go). I have went from a couch potato who was exhausted from everyday life to an empowered athlete that completed a half marathon, running the whole way, with ambitions of running a full marathon in 2014. I guess what makes my situation unique is that I didn't have a personal trainer or dietitan. I didn't have thousands of dollars in home gym equipment. What I did have was a husband who worked nights, bouts with gestational diabetes, 2 kids under the age of 3 whom I breast fed 10 months each, a job that demanded 30+ hours a week, a budget to keep in mind while shopping for healthy food and quite possibly one of the most stubborn outlooks on life you've ever met.
This is how I did it. The bare bones, the tears, the sweat, the prayers to God for strength and the up-at-dawn-this-is-my-dream-and-I'll-be-damned-if-I-fail story.
I hope you draw inspiration from this to begin writing a story of your own.
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