Category Archives: weight loss

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DAY 281: ENTJ(-A)

I just got back from a week-long holiday fog.  For some reason, part of my family time included taking the (unofficial) Myers-Briggs personality test with 3 members of my family and 2 friends from high school.

I have a slight history with this test.  I’ve taken it a handful of times over the years, sometimes in professional contexts and sometimes in a spirit of what-the-hell.  I never committed my “type” to memory because every time I took it, I got a different result.  It was interesting to read, but it never felt entirely right.  Too many of my answers were really “it depends,” so I would give neutral answers, making it hard to type me accurately.  Furthermore, I’m generally a special combination of adaptable and indecisive, so I’m kind of just always ready to react and can figure my way through things in the absence of a plan, rare though those situations may be for me because I always need a plan.  The zodiac has me totally pegged; Myers-Briggs, not so much.  Go figure, huh?

Well, this time, I took a test modeled on Myers-Briggs 3 times on 3 different metrics and got the exact same type each time.  It was a type I’ve never gotten before.  How can I be sure of that when I JUST said that I never bothered remembering the type because it was different every time?  Every other time, the types had to do with being diplomatic, being solicitous, being dependable.  The results I got this time were different.  This I would have remembered.  I took it three times because I was so stricken by the result of taking it the first time, that I demanded a recount and took it a second time on a second site, and was so shocked by that that I found a third test to take.  I would have taken it a fourth if I wasn’t so exhausted from the incessant self-analysis (or if a link to another reputable measure had fallen directly into my lap).

Yeah, I got a little obsessive about all of a sudden being a solid ENTJ  (Extraverted, iNtuitive, Thinking, Judging).

I had very strong reactions to reading the various synopses about type ENTJ.  Before I launch into this full throttle — and I’ll avoid detailing every single fee-fee I experienced so as not to annoy the hell out of anyone reading this — I will say that I know it’s useless to put too much stock into these things.  Our human idiosyncrasies make it so that anyone can be any type in any given situation, and these types are indicators of tendencies towards certain behaviors rather than a black-and-white classification of who one is at one’s core.  (And arguably, my reaction to discovering my type disproves the test results.  Meta enough for ya?)  Still, I was a little blown away at some of what I read about my typology.  Here are two snippets of the worst of it:

“Few other types can equal their ability to remain resolute in conflict, sending the valiant (and often leading the charge) into the mouth of hell. When challenged, the ENTJ may by reflex become argumentative. Alternatively (s)he may unleash an icy gaze that serves notice: the ENTJ is not one to be trifled with.”  —humanmetrics.com

My family and long-time friends found it hilarious that I was at once associated with fiery hell and icy gazes.  Someone in the room made a joking comment about my being “the icy mouth of hell.”  One of my good friends of 15 years, when I finished reading this page aloud with a completely baffled inflection and horrified look on my face, responded to my indignation with a pause and then, “This comes as a surprise to no one.”  But to me, it makes me sound hot-headed and cold-hearted.  The rest of the write-up basically called this type a callous, insensitive jerk.  There are a lot of things in the synopsis that are true, but I really struggled with the idea that I might be that hardened.  I expressed that, and my loved ones helped me understand that I could probably come off that way for people who don’t know me, especially in a formal/professional setting, but that I had never made any of them feel that way.  They reminded me that I’m the one they come to with their problems — why would they do that if I really were the icy mouth of hell?  Still, is this what strangers get from me, even if I’m not trying to project a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe (which, admittedly, I often am)?  Yikes.

My interpretation?  “You’re kind of an intimidating bitch with no regard for human emotion.”

Next nugget:

“[…]ENTJs are characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves. Perhaps it is best that they make up only three percent of the population, lest they overwhelm the more timid and sensitive personality types that make up much of the rest of the world…” —16personalities.com

While ENTJs make up only 3% of the (US) population, only 1% are women (and this source says ENTJs are only 2% of the population, not even 3).  Next… ruthless?!  I’m rational, yeah, but SHIT.  Ruthless?  That word came up A LOT in all the different things I read while indulging my narcissism, and it was hard to ignore.  The only other word that came up with that frequency was “arrogant,” which to me is the most abhorrent trait in a human being, and I hate that I may be that way myself.

16personalities.com takes this typing a step further with a hyphenated suffix at the end of the 4-letter code, either the letter A (assertive) or T (turbulent [which I think would be better described as timid]).  Guess which one this ENTJ asshole got?  A, of course.  ENTJ-A.  Being ruthless, arrogant, and icy wasn’t quite enough.

Sigh.

Primarily, in my scouring of online resources on ENTJ, I found myself agreeing generally with a lot of the typology.  The biggest one that came up is a thought that I’ve had before, but never made the connection to the concept that it might have to do with my personality.  It’s basically that ENTJs crave criticism, need criticism, and respond well to criticism, but no one criticizes them, probably because they assume that based on their assertive/aggressive tendencies, ENTJs will lash out when they hear it.

People really don’t give me criticism; you’d think that for as awkward as I am about accepting praise and compliments, the reason would be that I’m used to the opposite.  Nope.  I’m bad at hearing positives about myself because, like, what do you do with that, then?  With criticism, you can respond with action (you can also ignore it if you’re self-aware and self-possessed enough to know when it’s BS) and use it to improve something unappealing about yourself.  With a compliment… what, your work is done?  That feels like a lopsided transaction.

I know, boo-hoo, no one criticizes me!   It’s sure as shit not because I’m perfect, so maybe the absence of criticism is the criticism:  I’m unapproachable.  I never thought that of myself, but maybe it’s what I project with all my icy-mouth-of-hell stuff.

Hmm.

Anyway, all of this got me thinking about my history with Myers-Briggs and why I scored so inconsistently until now, when I suddenly became a solid ENTJ, keeping company with the likes of Napoleon and Hitler (yes, seriously).  What’s up with that?

Well, I’ve changed a lot in the last year.  I’ve intentionally created a structure — a very RIGID structure — for myself so that I can do what I need to do and make sure I prioritize my time to allow myself to live healthily and lose weight.  This has meant intentionally acting selfishly and having to stop myself from feeling guilty about it.  It’s meant saying no to invitations to social gatherings because I didn’t want to be around the alcohol and the greasy food.  As a result, I’ve had to become my own best friend, and at least I’ve always been a good friend.  I’ve stuck up for myself, I’ve protected myself, and yeah, I’ve been assertive in situations with other people out of self-interest in defense of myself.  All of this has had the side effect of giving me some killer self-confidence, and I have less patience than ever for bull shit (because I have less time than ever to put up with it) and more faith than ever in myself.  Maybe all of this is a net positive, but it’s naturally changed the way I would respond to any personality-indicating questions on some standardized test based on introspection, and it’s no surprise if it’s hardened me.  I’m physically tougher, I’m mentally tougher, and I’m emotionally tougher.  It doesn’t make me heartless, icy, or even ruthless, though.  It just makes me prepared to continue what has been a very challenging process, and one that I can count on to only get more difficult.

So, as much as ENTJ is a pretty unattractive personality type, it has some positives, too:  tenacity, determination, commitment to goals, drive, focus, motivation, and strong will.  I need ALL OF THAT, so thank goodness I was able to cultivate it in myself.  I sure as hell wasn’t born with it, at least not this strain of it.

And hey, I even hope I get to keep some of it.  If my ENTJ-A self sticks to my plan, I’ll have hit my overall goal before the end of 2016, meaning I will be able to pull off the gas a little bit.  Maybe I’ll have more time to have fun.  Maybe I’ll stop thinking of other people’s demands as bull shit and look forward to phone calls and e-mails and spontaneity again.  Maybe I’ll change again as a result.  If I do — and hell, even if I don’t — I bet that if I take a Myers-Briggs-ish test again a year from now, I’ll get a different result.

But for now, the only results that matter are the health ones.  My truest personality will solidify once I’m through this tunnel.

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DAY 271: Before pants

I pulled these out today.  They’re my Lane Bryant (gag) size 24 (vomit) “nice” pants that are on my milestones aspirations list as the ones I want to be able to fit into one leg of some day soon.

Here’s where we’re at on progress to goal:

 

For the record, I did try to fit into one leg today just to see, and it almost actually happened.  If my calves weren’t Superman size, I think it would have been a go.  I’ll run the experiment again in a couple more lost pants sizes and see.

In the present… check out all that extra fabric!

The first photo is with the pants zipped up and pulled as high up as they will go (which is just below my bust), and pulled all the way to the side (NOT the front).  The photo is turned in the wrong direction in this post, but I noticed it after uploading and am far too lazy to fix it.  😉

The photo in the middle is with the pants pulled up to where they’re supposed to be with the extra fabric pulled forward to make them fit my form.

The final photo is the bouquet of fabric in my hand as seen from my vantage point after I took the middle picture in the mirror.

I’ve been feeling really raggedy this week, so I’m glad I did this.  I’ve donated several boxes of clothing every month since July or August, and this is the only article of clothing that no longer fits — aside from the before dress — that I’ve kept.  I’ve tried these pants on a couple of times since starting my weight loss, but the loss hasn’t been as striking before today.  Today, it was impossible for them to stay on; they just fell right to the floor, no matter how many ways I bent or twisted to anchor the waist band onto a curve so they’d at least hang off me.  I can’t believe these were my go-to professional attire just 9 months ago.  They look ridiculous now, both on me and off.

I still have time to make the weight goal I set for myself for the end of this year, and I may have found the motivation I need to get me there.  I think I’ll keep my sad pants out in plain sight for a while.

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DAY 265: It’s not you, it’s me

I think whatever lessons I learned this summer about where I stand in terms of preparedness for dating must have fallen into the abyss of my throat V.  I stupidly went on a date this weekend.

It went a bit better than the last one.  For me, there’s a positive correlation between pounds lost and self-confidence in all situations, and dating is no exception.  The lead-up was almost not at all nerve-racking, and I felt calm and comfortable pretty much throughout.  Start to finish, I’d say it was… fine.  And yet, I’m so not in it to win it.  So why am I bothering??

It may have something to do with the fact that my life-long friend (no joke, I’ve known this girl since the day I was born) got engaged right after Thanksgiving, my best friend is headed rapidly along that trajectory, and the rest of my local girlfriends are suddenly in relationships, too.  It may also be because every time I start feeling kind of pretty, I have some weird impulse to check that theory on a living, breathing, human male.  It could also be a result of this freak December heat wave (it was 70 frikkin’ degrees today!) throwing off the senses and getting people all twitterpated (YEAH, I said it).

It could be all of these things.  It could be none of these things.

I just know I hate what I see when I take off my clothes.  I’m actually thinking about talking to my doctor in January about possible options to address some of that when all of this is said and done.  It sounds vain, but I can’t explain how upsetting it is to see the wear on my body.  I’ve put it through a lot, and I’m proud of the hard work behind what it shows, but I’m so self-conscious about the stretch marks and other ugly features on this wasted landscape that I can’t really see myself getting past it.

These guys who flirt with me, who hit on me, who hold my hand, who put their arms around me… they don’t know what they’re getting into.

The guy from this weekend, he was nice enough.  I wasn’t really feeling chemistry, but I wasn’t in agony just waiting for the date to end.  (How much of the lack of chemistry is psychological resistance on my part is debatable.)  And yet, he’d asked for a second date before the first one was over.  He held me a little too long parting ways.  Since we saw each other, he’s been all… talky.

What?  I don’t get it.  

I partly don’t get it because I still find myself so unattractive that it doesn’t compute that anyone would see me differently.  Yeah, there’s been improvement over the past 9 months, but that’s all relative to me.  In the grand scheme of things, compared to the rest of the gals out there, I’m still a 3 trying to claw my way to 4 status.

I continue to not get it because I was giving it like 60%, personality wise.  It’s kinda like, “Dude, you were into that watered-down version of me?  I’m SO MUCH BETTER than that!”  I know, weird thought progression, right?  Just wait.

Here’s where I veer off into the ridiculous:  I actually kind of judge this guy for being interested in me.  How fucked up is that?!  As if I have the right to judge anyone for anything, let alone him for that!

Then again, that’s only when I allow myself to believe he actually is interested in me, and not just desperate or under the assumption that fat beggars can’t be fat choosers, so I’ll be all in because I’m desperate.

It doesn’t matter what the truth is.  Bottom line:  I am obviously not where I need to be physically in order to be where I need to be mentally in order to date anyone.

Shut it down.

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DAY 263: Persistence

I’ve been trying to do a milestones update every 50 days, but you may have noticed I didn’t do one on day 250.  Sadly, day 250 is the day I got sick, so I didn’t have the presence of mind to make a blog post at the time (nor did I even realize it was a milestones day).  This update will sort of stand in for that missed entry.

First, shortly before Thanksgiving, an executive at my office ran into me in the kitchen and commented on my weight loss.  Mind you, this is a very senior, statured person with whom I have almost no interaction; I didn’t know she knew my name, let alone that she had noticed my progress.  She commended my hard work and asked me how much I had lost.  I paused, then decided to go for it and tell her the number.  I admitted I hadn’t shared it with anyone, and she started to say I didn’t have to tell her, but then I just blurted it out.  It was a little crazy hearing it out loud, but it also felt kind of good to say… I’ve lost almost 100 pounds.

So it’s really no wonder why I’m noticing the following small changes that are probably only perceptible to me:

  • I can now see three bones in each hand.  At first, I couldn’t see any.  Sometime over the summer, the first one emerged.  Out of nowhere, two other ones just showed up.  I wonder how many there actually are in there waiting to pop out?!  I’ve never thought about it before!
  • The shape of my ass has changed.  The most recent underwear I bought still fit around my hips, but they sag in the seat.  This sounds funny, but my butt was kind of squared off before.  It’s starting to actually look like a human rear end now.  It’s round and bootylicious.
  • I noticed at my last couple of token weigh-ins for DB that when I look down at the scale, I see more space between my toes.  The first time I saw extra black between my toes, it actually startled me.  OMG, what’s wrong with my foot?!  Oh, wait…!
  • My shirts fit more loosely around my shoulder blades, of all things.  It used to be that when I put my jacket on, I didn’t have much of a wing span because the fabric was restricted by the width of my upper torso.  Lately, it’s much looser.  It’s not just the jacket, either; I’ve felt a difference in the way T-shirts, button-down shirts, and even my sports bras sit on that part of my body.  Who knew that would be noticeable?
  • My cheeks have new angles!  They were so round when I was bigger that my face looked swollen all the time.  My cheeks were actually so rotund that I couldn’t see beyond them; I would have to turn my head to check that my earrings were hanging right or my hair was OK.  Seriously.  Faces can be that fat.  Then, with the right changes, they can start looking like adult faces that might have a shot at being pretty some day.  🙂
  • My belly has shrunken in a northerly fashion.  Yeah, I worded that strangely on purpose.  The result is NOT that my stomach looks smaller (yet), but that my legs look longer.  That sentence, coming from a life-long member of the Stumpy Leg Club, is insane.
  • Now, here’s the one I’m really geeked about… GUYS.  I have a throat V!!!  (Google tells me this is called the suprasternal notch.  Also, please appreciate that I had to look up what this is called because it’s such a foreign concept to me!)  You know, the small of the throat, where elegant woman in jewelry ads always have a tiny diamond delicately nestled from their expensive platinum chains.  A this.  Mine is not always visible (yet!), but it is more often than not.  And I love it.  It’s my new favorite feature of my villain beard.

I’ve been feeling stymied from the past month of a post-vacation weight gain, moderate indulgence at Thanksgiving, and an immediately ensuing illness that kept me from exercise.  It can be a slippery slope to returning to past harmful behavior in such circumstances, especially when you’re home alone all day, every day, for a week, with an uncooperative scale and a bevy of food-delivery services available via a few quick taps on the phone screen.

BUUUT…

I knocked 5.6 pounds off of my post-vacation weight in spite of all that, and have hit a new low weight.  I did not overdo it at Thanksgiving, and I didn’t stray even a hair from my food plan even in the grip of the sickness that JUST WOULD NOT QUIT.  It’s been a slog, and it’s been a true mental challenge to stay on the eating plan when it felt like there was no pay-off, but I DID IT.

And that’s how you lose 100 pounds.  Look for THAT milestone on day 300.

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DAY 262: Once an addict…

Some people, like me, have addictive personalities.  I’ve been this way ever since I was a small child who obsessively watched the same movie over and over again on repeat until I got sick of it.  I’ve done this throughout childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, with everything from movies to TV shows to songs to books and even to people.  It’s an odd pattern of novelty becoming comfortable, then too familiar, then boring and/or annoying, which triggers a need for something new… until the pattern itself gets annoying and I return to something old and known until I again wear out my interest in that and need to go back to the new again.  I don’t know what it is that makes me this way, but I know it’s always been how I am, and I therefore have no expectation of changing it.

Obviously, the worst place where this special little cycle of mine pops up is with food.  Remember Oreo Cakesters?  You don’t?  Well, you must have been sleeping during that period where they existed, and I ate them all before you had a chance to try them.  (They have since mercifully been discontinued.)  I also had a Papa John’s phase, a fried chicken phase, even a freaking Hamburger Helper phase, just to name a few.  These were all bad food-addiction/compulsion-fueled habits I had before I had the thing that changed it all:  a routine.

Now that I have a framework within which to conduct my daily life, everything else is so much easier.  I’ve learned to adapt my addictive personality to a healthy way of life, which means preparation, preparation, preparation.  I’ve also learned that you can apply a potentially dangerous pattern to a positive endeavor by simply replacing the addiction.  (Simple in concept, of course.  It’s certainly a challenge in practice!)  I’m no longer obsessed with filling my belly; I’m obsessed with shrinking it.  I’m addicted to exercise.

Yesterday was the first time I’ve attempted my (formerly) usual elliptical run since before I got sick, which was well before Thanksgiving.  I’m still not entirely recovered, and my body is not keeping that a secret; I was coughing and my nose was running from just a couple of minutes in.  In the end, I was only able to do one mile of my usual 3+, but I’m happy to report that my speed is still intact (under 12 minutes!), and DAMN, it felt good to sweat from something besides a fever!

I’ve amped up the fitness addiction by signing up for more Diet Bets.  As of yesterday, I am now committed and paid into a total of FIVE (one of which I’m hosting — join me!) between now and mid-February.  I’m still trying to recover the lost ground in my Transformer, and it doesn’t look like I’ll quite get there in time for the round 4 weigh-in a week from now, but I WILL win the game.  I’ve also set a pretty ambitious goal to hit for the end of the year.  I won’t be crushed if I don’t hit it, but I WILL totally redeem myself — and be a total fucking champion — if I do.

Finally, I set up another follow-up appointment with my fabulous doctor for January 19th, 6 months after my last visit with her.  I can’t wait to hear what she’ll have to say at that visit!  It gives me extra motivation to reach my goals.

Through replacing the addiction, I’ve become so singularly focused on achieving my fitness goals that I’ve gone back to not even caring about my old trigger foods.  Those plates of temptation are just masses of needless calories that will sabotage my plans and make me mad at myself.  Why go down a path of destruction?  I’ll pass.  Gym, please.

Sorry, Christmas cookies.  Maybe next year!

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DAY 259: Personal weight-loss soundtrack

This is the music that got me through the last 9 months of killing it to bring myself back to life.  I would not have made it through a single workout without these beats!  Now that I’m finally well enough to resume my demanding cardio routines, I’ve busted out the ol’ play list on my iPod again, and it’s given me quite a trip down memory lane.  Here are my favorite memorable selections from my weight-loss mission so far, in song-of-the-month fashion.

 

April:  “Get Busy” by Sean Paul
No one brings it quite like Sean-a-Paul.  This was the first song I jogged for a solid minute to.  Shake.  Dat.  Thing.

Girl get busy, just shake that booty nonstop
When the beat drops, just keep swinging it

POUNDS LOST:  21.6

May:  “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child
This is kind of an obvious choice for work-out music, but I was feeling it in May while working on reclaiming endurance on the elliptical.  This song is what brought me through that final intense 4-minute interval on numerous occasions.

I’m a survivor!
I’m not gon’ give up!
I’m not gon’ stop!
I’m gon’ work harder!

POUNDS LOST:  12.8

June:  “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten
Another obvious choice, but it happened to be both the message I needed AND the BPM I was running at — well, as much as one “runs” on the elliptical — back in June.  BOOM!

And I don’t really care if nobody else believes
Cuz I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me!

POUNDS LOST:  11.6

July:  “Bailando” by Enrique Iglesias ft. a bunch of other dudes (English version)
Ahhh, July.  I was so tan, so warm, got so much lighter so fast, and started getting sooooo into dancing.  This was my jam of preference for all that dancin’ around my apartment I did after my first shopping spree in normal-people stores while checking myself out in all those new duds.  And while cooking.  And while doing the dishes.  And while brushing my teeth.  And while walking down the street.  And while sitting in my desk chair at work.  And everywhere else.  While doing everything.  All the time.

I wanna be contigo, and live contigo,
And dance contigo, para have contigo
Una noche loca…

POUNDS LOST:  12

August:  “Bang Bang” by Jessie J. ft. Nicki Minaj & Ariana Grande
Out of nowhere, this song from a full year earlier bang-banged into my headphones and made me run faster.  It would sneak up in my play list and give me a sudden burst of energy.  A month after making it part of my regular workouts, it played while I finished running my spontaneous first-ever full mile straight.

See, anybody could be good to you
You need a bad girl to blow your mind!

POUNDS LOST:  10.6

September:  “Love Myself” by Hailee Seinfeld
I know this song is about, er, something else, but whatever.  Some double entendres start dirty and work to a cleaner second level.  Good beat, right (scrubbed) lyrics, solid sweat.  This shit makes me wanna fist pump fo’eva.

I love me
Gonna love myself
And I don’t need anybody else!

POUNDS LOST:  7

October:  “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind
The radio edited version of this song is only good.  Without the killer ripple of an extended bridge, it’s just another fairly monotonous song about being high on meth.  In the full version, the music kind of gets a second wind in the middle of the song, and it’s contagious when you start adapting your cardio to the treadmill after months of straight elliptical.  As a work-out song, this version is surprisingly SPECTACULAR pavement-pounding music.

And when the plane came in,
She said she was crashin’
The velvet, it rips in the city
We tripped on the urge to feel alive

POUNDS LOST:  4.6

November:  “Exes and Ohs” by Elle King
I’m afraid this is another song where my terrible dancing doesn’t care about making public appearances.  Holy shit, if you can’t move your ass to this song, you might be half dead.  It’s also excellent for power walking insanely steep, never-ending hills.  It’s awesome to belt out, too.  (Thank God I live alone.)  ENERGIZE!

I get high, and I love to get low
So the hearts keep breaking, and the heads just roll
You know that’s how the story goes

POUNDS LOST:  2.4

December:  “Runaway Baby” by Bruno Mars
I am not ashamed to admit that I had never heard this song until a pair of dancers did a routine to it on Dancing with the Stars.  Which I watched this season.  No shame.  Anyway, the first verse hadn’t even ended before I was downloading it and putting it onto my “Move!” play list.  Tonight, I did something I have never done:  I jogged to it OUTSIDE.  In doing so, I discovered it’s my new BPM jogging speed.  Mama’s getting fast.  🙂

Run, run, run away,
Run away, baby!

POUNDS LOST:  ??

And one that ALWAYS does the trick:  “More” by Usher
This is my classic go-to jam that I put on to pump up my cardio when I need it most.  The beat, the bad-ass lyrics, the self-assuredness I can’t help but feel as soon as it starts… this is my quintessential exercise song for all of time.  WOOOO!

Leave it on the floor, bring out the fire
And light it up, take it up higher
Gonna push it to the limit
Give it MORE!
It’s good to be back.

 

**Note:  I started at the end of March by dropping a crap ton of weight through only nutrition-based changes, so March work-out songs and pounds lost are not included here.

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DAY 255: Shackled up

Another day home sick, another day  of no working out.  Blech.

I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of glad for the excuse to take time away from work.  It’s killed my exercise, though.  I’m sure my weight is not dropping from the very strenuous physical demands of shuffling between the couch-tea kettle-bathroom triangle, and even though I’ve been staying on track with eating (in spite of a highly irregular hunger pattern), I’m pissed to be missing YET ANOTHER week of fixing myself.

Luckily, the universe is still looking out for me.  While digging around in my Fuck-It Bucket™ for a candle lighter, I came across the second wrist band that came with my VivoFit:  the small band.  Oddly, I was searching for this over the summer when the weight was rapidly dropping off, and I couldn’t find it.  I swear I looked in my Bucket, as that’s where I always put things that have no logical categorical storage place, and it definitely wasn’t there.  It just wasn’t time for me to find it.

When I picked up the small band, I felt my eyes go wide like a Disney character.  Earlier the same day, I had been poking around on Amazon to see if there was a sale on VivoFit yet to get one for my mom, who is interested in getting one for herself.  I was reading the specs and noticed that the difference in the small end of notches in the large band and the large end of notches in the small band have some overlap.  Since I’m down to where I can wear the large band around my wrist on the last set of notches available, the I-wonder voice spoke up:  I wonder if you can wear this band now?

Well…


Sho ’nuff can.

I’m wearing my small band on notches 2 and 3, and my (crusty-ass!) large band at the same notches, but I slid it to the point where it naturally fits on my arm now.  I started out wearing the large band only one notch farther over, on 3 and 4, on my WRIST, just 11 months ago.  Within the next 11 months, I’ll probably be able to get that sucker around my ankle.

Viva the Vivo!

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DAY 253: Real fever, cabin fever

Oh no — I got sick!

Most normal people, when they’re sick, curl up on the couch and proceed not to move for days.  I spent day one of my sickness fighting it off by driving 5 hours back to my place from my parents’ once I knew I was succumbing to illness (dramatic!), and using my last ounce of strength to go immediately to the grocery store after making the trip so I could have something to eat for the next however many days (assuming consciousness was part of the deal; it wasn’t when I got sick last year).  I made soup on Sunday between episodes I was clearing out of my Hulu queue and, when my internet crashed for several hours, watching The Holiday on DVD.

I’m on day 4 of this craptastic sickness, and I seem to be recovering incredibly quickly by comparison to last year, when I was fully out of commission for 8 days.  It’s surely partly due to being a different sickness, but also partly due to being overall healthier now than I was then.  That being said, I definitely fell asleep last night in the midst of a full-on Pizza Hut fantasy.  I’m telling you, I could smell the imaginary pizza through my stopped-up nose and taste it on my dry, chapped lips (even though I can’t smell the soup I’ve been forcing myself to eat, or taste the sriracha-coated Brussels sprouts I’m also forcing myself to eat).  I take solace in knowing it’s probably more about missing being able to enjoy the experience of eating than it is about actually wanting Pizza Hut.  I woke up with no trace of that intense craving.  (Luckily, that craving hit after business hours!)

BUT…

I am now spending cold, rainy days all alone, loafing around the house with no strength to do anything productive, like pick up the piles of tissues lying on every surface in the place.  It’s a Herculean effort just to take a shower, even though that’s the one moment of the day where I have full operation of my lungs.  And I’m bored.  I’ve cleared out my entire Hulu queue, and it’s not replenishing because everything is on stupid “winter hiatus” — whoever had that idea should be savagely beaten.  And because I’m bored, I’m getting powerful cravings for food I don’t actually want when I’m not even hungry.  Dafuq??

Exercise.  I need exercise.

Unfortunately, the knives I’m currently storing in my chest wouldn’t cooperate with physical activity beyond getting into and out of bed.  Hell, I have to be strategic about how dire the need is to blow my nose, because doing so triggers a coughing fit that’s not necessarily worth the nasal relief.

Basically, this sucks.  I’m lonely, I have cabin fever, I crave junk but can’t really eat (or taste or smell) anyway, my body craves exercise but can’t really move, and I feel like I got hit by a truck.  Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Suddenly, I remembered what kept me company when I started out on this solo mission to lose an entire person’s worth of weight from my own body:  weight-loss shows.  In April and May, I replaced binge eating with binge watching The Biggest Loser, My 600-Lb Life, Downsize Me, Extreme Weight Loss, and, most importantly, Fat Doctor.  FD is a British show that follows 2 people per episode through their struggles with weight, and they ultimately undergo gastric bypass surgery to save their lives.  Because it’s not a prudish American production, people speak very plainly about their experiences at morbidly obese sizes, and they actually show the patients’  operations.  It can be hard to watch, but it’s also helpful and hopeful.  If I hadn’t had these people’s stories to identify with — and to warn me — it’s difficult to imagine how I would have blazed through the beginning of the weight-loss process.  I don’t know why I haven’t mentioned before how instrumental these shows were with keeping my commitment on track early on.

There was one episode of Fat Doctor that was especially gut wrenching, one that I think back to involuntarily and then subsequently can’t get out of my head for hours.  I’d encourage anyone in need of a reality check, of motivation, of a reminder of why they’re doing this to watch this episode (do NOT read the comments below the video if you want to avoid spoilers, which WILL take away from the impact of watching).  Again, this will be an emotional viewing, but man, will it be worth it if you’re struggling right now.  Even if you’re not struggling, or not even trying to lose weight, or have never been obese, I would encourage you to watch this episode.  It will provide you insight into what being dangerously heavy is really like, and why people who live this every day are so desperate for a change.

Perspective, my friends.  Pizza Hut sounds so stupid now.  If you need me, I’ll be catching up on season 4 of Fat Doctor.

On a lighter note, I can’t wait to work out again!  How sick is that?!

 

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DAY 249: Thanks.

Yesterday was amazing.

I ate cheese.  I ate chips.  I ate salsa.  I ate crackers.  I ate artichoke dip.  I ate turkey.  I ate stuffing.  I ate mashed potatoes.  I ate rice.  I ate bread.  I ate salad.  I ate green bean casserole.  I ate cheesecake.  I ate peanut butter chocolate chip cookie bars.

I have no fear or regrets about any of that.

Before the meal (in the early morning), I took myself on a 4-mile walk around my parents’ incredibly hilly neighborhood and through a nearby park.  In the park, I twice passed a VERY good-looking guy in an orange shirt who was jogging.  The first time we passed each other, we gave each other a polite-stranger smile.  The second time, I was power-walking up a steep hill and he was jogging down it.  He was smiling already when he saw me, and I involuntarily gave him a MASSIVE grin when I saw him smiling, which made him smile bigger and laugh, which made me laugh.  I couldn’t tell if it was silly or flirtatious, or maybe both, but I kept hoping to run into him again.  I didn’t.  Maybe I will some other time I’m getting in my outdoor cardio at my parents’ house.

I spent the rest of the day cooking.

I ate my meal wearing an outfit composed of entirely new clothes, which wouldn’t have had a chance of fitting me last Thanksgiving.

I ate one moderate serving of everything, because I’ve taught myself when — and how — to stop.  No seconds.  No hunger.

I gave my family the public version of what I’m thankful for.  This is the private version:

I’m thankful that the beach towel I used to have to use to dry off after showering at their house is now comically large for that purpose, and I’ll have to ask my mom for a different towel.

I’m thankful that the toilet on the main floor of the house isn’t working properly, and I have to either go upstairs or downstairs every time I need to use the bathroom.

I’m thankful that I no longer have to pause 2 or 3 times on my way back up the stairs from the basement to secretly catch my breath, so as not to arrive at the top of the steps all winded and embarrassed.

I’m thankful that my parents live in the middle of nothing but steep hills of various heights that I can walk around.  I can feel the effects of that in my legs and butt, and it hurts so good.

I’m thankful that I could wake up this morning and eat cereal when everyone else was eating the traditional leftover pie for breakfast.

Even if I don’t lose any weight this week, I’m thankful for all of the above, because it proves to me that I’ve passed this test of will at a challenging moment of my mission that coincides with a challenging moment on the calendar.

Being mentally back in the saddle is by far the most important thing.  The weight loss will come.  I believe that again.

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DAY 244: Ranty pants

I had several paragraphs of a completely different post all typed up, and then something happened that changed my train of thought.  A friend on a quest to lose 20 pounds (at least half of which is vanity weight) group texted me and two of her other friends to announce what a GREAT workout she’d just had.

I’m not proud of the fact that I found this deeply annoying, or that my immediate reaction was silencing my phone and turning it screen-down on the couch beside me without responding to my friend, but that’s what happened.

Some of my irritation is because I’m putting unfair expectations on this person.  Just because my weight-loss M.O. is not talking about it in person doesn’t mean she shouldn’t.  It also doesn’t mean she’s bragging (even though she kind of was); she’s just giving herself congratulations in a group of people whose support she ought to be able to count on.  She and I have tip-toed around the subject of my progress on more than one occasion, and she’s even volunteered that I’ve inspired her to take charge of her own mission, so why not check in with her so-called friend who helped her take that step?

More of my irritation is that this girl has like no work to do.  It’s easy to be motivated and enthusiastic when you only have 20 pounds to lose.  If that was all I had to do, I’d have been done by now.  Several times.  So, yeah, this is my jealousy coming out in the form of frustration.  I still have more than 20 pounds left to go.  She’s going to totally complete her mission before I’m done with the second half of mine.  I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help it.  I’d kill to have only 20 pounds to lose.

MOST of my irritation is that I’m reacting this way.  It should motivate me to go get in a killer workout of my own.  It should make me proud that I helped her get there in some small way.  It should make me genuinely happy for my friend, especially because I know firsthand how hard this process is, and how good it feels to totally crush a workout.  Yet it doesn’t.  It just makes me kind of bitter.

I think this is the ugly side of why I haven’t been so keen to talk about my weight loss with people in my real life.

Luckily (?), I’ve been on a shopping bender all weekend.  My purchases have included some much-needed new clothes, as well as some oh-honey articles for the next size down.  I couldn’t afford it by any stretch of the imagination, and the whole point of these shopping trips was supposed to be holiday shopping for other people, but I came home with hundreds of dollars of stuff to hang in my own closet.  (I did get some gifts for the people on my list!  And… moderate exercise?  **bats eyelashes**)  Among my buys are 3 pairs of business pants that I can’t freaking wait to wear.  It’s expensive and slightly reckless, but the method of having to work in order to play with my new toys has been working for me.

I’ve clearly replaced one compulsion (eating like shit) with another (shopping).  That’s another ugly part of my personality:  compulsion.  The good news is, it is possible to change compulsive behaviors.  It’s just really hard.

Which is why support is important.

I’ll have to try harder to give it.  Others’ weight-loss experiences are not mine, and aren’t about me.  It’s not enough for me to learn to accept praise; I’m also apparently going to need to learn to give it to someone who’s actually asking for it.

Damn self-improvement.