Tag Archives: frustration

by

DAY 303: The 10 Commandments of Gymnasia

I have a love/hate relationship with my gym:  I love what I get from working out, but man, I hate being there.  My gym is a jungle.

For some reason, during the winter months, my gym allows a local high school’s girls’ crew team free rein of the facility.  They overrun the locker room, hog the machines, and strut around the place gossiping with each other in their tiny shorts that are more like underwear.  It immediately transports me right back to high-school phys ed, which I disliked enough the first time around.

There’s also a heap of resolutioners making the place feel crowded, and the worst of these are the men who think they’re gonna Hulk out.  They select weights on the machines that they struggle to handle (which is the wrong way to work out), and it makes me nervous to see it because they’re clearly going to hurt themselves.  They do like 4 reps of an inappropriate weight setting, and then they sit there for 3 or 4 minutes between sets, of which there are like 8.  It’s infuriating.

Far and away the most annoying character at my gym these days is the tech addict.  The people who walk around while looking at their e-mail and almost collide into me are right up there with the ones who sit for 5 minutes on the chest press machine without using the thing because they’re too busy texting.  It makes me absolutely crazy to have to wait for these people to quit socializing and focus on their workouts just so I can take care of mine.

When these frustrations reach boiling point, I like to fantasize about what would happen in my perfect gym, if I made the rules.  All that time I’ve spent tapping my foot waiting for a machine or giving disapproving side-eye to the hoards of high schoolers has resulted in this:

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF THE GYM MACHINES

  1. THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER MACHINES BEFORE ME.  Drop your freaking cell phone off in the locker room and do what the hell you came to do.  Your social life can spare you for a measly hour of the day.  I mean, do you suddenly start jogging or doing bicep curls in the middle of a business meeting or a date?  Didn’t think so.  Be where you are and stop making other people wait for you to stop distracting yourself when you should all be at the gym to work out, damn it.
  2. THOU SHALT NOT USE THY GYM IN VAIN.  Lose the make-up, the jewelry, and the perfume/cologne.  No one is impressed with how cute you look, only with how much sweat you drip with at the end of your workout.  And folks would prefer it if you didn’t reek of dead flowers while working up that sweat.
  3. THOU SHALT COMMIT ADULTERY.  As in, you must be an adult:  18 or older.  Furthermore, do not come to the gym with your varsity sports team to monopolize space and fill the air with your idle chatter.  Grown-ups are here, kids.  Shouldn’t you be doing your homework?  Go home.
  4. THOU SHALT NOT BOGART ME.  Everyone around you paid just as much to be here as you did.  Don’t be grunting and panting all over me using unrealistically heavy resistance in service of some misguided delusion that you will become brawny and muscular in a single workout.  Step aside for the lady waiting for your stupid ass to finish.  Or at least let her work in with you, even though that shit is hella annoying.
  5. THOU SHALT NOT STEAL.  If someone is clearly using a machine but steps away for a moment to refill a water bottle, leave that machine alone.  You know your gym comrade is coming back if they left their stuff draped on the machine.  However, if they leave their stuff on a machine you’ve been waiting for for a while and they are gone for several minutes, fuck them and their presumptuous entitlement and go get your burn on.  Gyms are tiny colonies of renters, and throwing your stuff on something doesn’t make you an owner.  It’s a fine line, but err towards not stealing for the good of the community.
  6. THOU SHALT MURDER.  Calories, that is.  If you took one of the ellipticals with the moving arm handles and you aren’t using them, you’re wasting an opportunity to burn.  If you aren’t here to murder, go use a machine without that option so that a real murderer can hit it hard.
  7. HONOR THY SURROUNDINGS AND EQUIPMENT.  Don’t trash the locker room, and for the love of all that is holy, wipe down your sweat-drenched machine after you’re done with it.  It’s a badge of honor for you, but no one else is reveling in that.
  8. REMEMBER THE WORKOUT SESSION AND KEEP IT HOLY.  Attention all gym staff:  interrupting a gym-goer’s workout to try to sell them personal training sessions is truly bad form.  No one wants to talk with you when they’re out of breath from physical exertion, least of all about spending more of their money to spend time with someone who doesn’t understand that.  Step the hell off.  Not cool.
  9. THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR’S MACHINE.  Stop looking at the screen display of the person working out next to you.  It’s awkward and creepy.  Eyes on your own paper, stalker.
  10. THOU SHALT SHAKE THY GROOVE THING.  Move your body, gym-goer.  Focus on getting fit and healthy, and have fun!  Pump your fist when you amp it up, raise your arms over your head when you break a personal record, and whisper words of encouragement to yourself when you need to persevere.  Find a way to make the process enjoyable.  It’s essential to your mentality, and the positivity is contagious.  Go get ’em, tiger!

 

Now, who wants to spot me ten thousand dollars so I can open up my utopian gym??

Happy workout!

by

DAY 296: Sinking to a new low

…on the scale, that is.

I strategically do my weekly weigh-ins on Sunday evenings before dinner.  It helps me temper the back-to-work blues as a way to see what my week’s worth of fitness efforts produced and as a baseline for what I’ll have to put in for the week ahead.  I do it at that time of day because it feels like the most accurate reflection of my weight:  not first thing in the morning after a night’s digestion and dehydration, not just after exercise with the same factors, and not too soon after eating with a full stomach.  Weighing myself just before dinner reflects most of a day’s exercise and eating on the scale, but with enough space in between those things to show me what my “true” weight is.  (Note:  this is based on no science or recommendations, just my own rhythms and personal logic.  Weighing in first thing in the morning as most people do feels like cheating to me for some reason, even though weight on the scale is “real” at any time of day.)

This post is delayed from my most recent weigh-in 3 days ago, but it’s happy news that’s worth sharing:  I’m at my lowest weight in 5½ years.  I’m also within striking distance of several Diet Bet goal weights and personally — maybe universally, in the world of losers — meaningful milestones.

It’s a drastically different life from the one I had a year ago today.

On January 13th, 2015, I was in a work situation that was so truly chaotic, it would be difficult to hyperbolize.  I was in the middle of euthanizing a close friendship of 15 years.  I was missing my family after the holidays.  I wasn’t sleeping well.  I wasn’t eating well.  I had no free time because of the work disasters, which meant no social time.  I was carrying around unquantifiable emotional baggage and an extra person’s body weight worth of physical baggage.  I was exhausted, stressed, angry, frustrated, depressed, confused, and miserable.  I felt hopeless and alone.  At no point in my life have I ever truly thought about wanting to die, but at that time, I didn’t truly want to live.  I was at my highest weight ever, and I don’t think I’ve ever been lower.

On January 13th, 2016, I am on my way to being the person that the person sitting at this desk last year wanted to be.  I can handle work, and when it gets worse than the usual amount of bad, I can leave the office without taking the emotional toxins with me.  I have moved well past the death of the friendship that had run its course.  I sleep well.  I eat well.  I protect my free time with the resolve of the Secret Service, and I make sure it includes socialization.  I am emotionally and physically lighter.  I am rested, calm, steady, flip, amused, lucid, and content.  I feel hopeful and supported.  And on the scale, I’ve found the best possible way to be lower than I was a year ago.

This is for you, old me.  I got you.

by

DAY 284: You say you want a resolution

Well, you know, we all want to change the world.

Have you ever made a resolution that actually stuck?  Probably not.  I can think of only one person in my own life who has made one successful resolution:  When we were kids, my brother resolved to eat exactly one potato chip the entire year.  For what it’s worth, he nailed it.  So much for the betcha-can’t-eat-just-one myth.

Apart from that sole example, these things are basically giant pillars of fantasy.  People tend to create lofty, overblown objectives — ostensibly for self-improvement — that are unattainable, grandiose, and inherently unexecutable.  Either their resolutions are not specific enough (“I’m going to lose weight!”) or far too specific (“I’m going to go to the gym EVERY DAY and never eat sugar and go paleo and gluten-free and lose 100 pounds by June!”), and we have ourselves to blame for the impracticality.  (Learn your SMART goals, people!)

It’s an honorable effort to create things to strive for in any situation, but making resolution-setting A THING is exactly the problem, especially when it’s for losing weight.

First of all, the time of the year is a trap.  It’s a freaking trap.  From Halloween to New Year’s Eve — two SOLID MONTHS — we stuff our faces with candy and pie and cookies (among other things) under the code of holiday conduct.  That’s two months of steadily gaining weight just through the interruption of whatever routine you have in place, in combination with the calorie fests accompanying each holiday in the forms of parties, receptions, and the celebratory meals that mark the occasions themselves.  So all the while, we have in the back of our heads that we’ve got to get right… but might as well wait until this holiday-laden time of year has passed, cuz it’d just be a lost cause before then.  *shrugs and eats another cupcake*

Furthermore, those two months of splurging on enough sugar and carbs to destroy a doctor’s soul, are two months wasted on regression when they could be spent maintaining, if not making progress.  It’s digging yourself into a deeper hole to work out of when the arbitrary date of January 1st finally comes and you can make your precious resolution.  Honestly, think of the damage!

So New Year’s Day becomes THE HOPE.  We don’t set goals, we set RESOLUTIONS.  (Those are more serious, y’know.  *eye roll*)  The ball drops at midnight on January 1st, and BAM!  You’re magically different and inspired to go lose the weight you haven’t to this point been motivated enough to tackle because… wait, why again?  Because NEW YEAR’S!  That bizarre top-hat-wearing New Year’s baby is your spirit animal, and he will guide you to win!  OO-RAH!

Next on the list of pitfalls is the delusion of time.  You figure, “hey, I have all year to hit this (fucking insane) goal I’ve set for myself.  Totally gonna happen, brah.”  But have you thought it through?  Do you have a plan for how to eat right, build muscle, and work off fat so that you can even get close to hitting that likely bonkers goal of yours?  Or were you just putting it on future-you in the midst of all those holiday smorgasbords to deal with current-you’s horrible decisions so you could continue eating and drinking your way into oblivion without feeling too guilty?  Was it ever a serious decision, or was it a sugar-fueled pledge made in the throes of a mad jones for more of the sweet stuff?  The amount of time you have to hit any goal is meaningless if you haven’t figured out how to spend it on achieving that goal.

Finally, the amount of pressure from this HUGE demand you’ve put upon yourself is crushing.  You have formally resolved to lose weight, and you must succeed!  It’s A THING, after all.  A THING!

No.  It’s too much.  The stakes are too high.  Resolutioning for weight loss is the prime example of the all-or-nothing approach, and unless you’re a wiry 9-year-old boy with a weird defiant streak against potato chip advertisements, ALL OR NOTHING DOESN’T WORK.  It’s why people fail. It’s why I’ve always failed in the past.  You kill it and kill it and kill it until you have one little slip-up, then it’s THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD and you’ve totally ruined everything and you might as well just stop exercising now.  Better luck next year.  Pass the cake.

If you’ve made any resolutions relating to weight loss, I highly recommend you try them the SMART way so you aren’t set up for failure from the jump.  I also sincerely wish you luck — some people do respond well to the magnitude of SUCCEED OR BUST, but those individuals are rare.  Prove me wrong.  Please.

For my part, I resolve to try very hard not to lose my mind when my gym is suddenly overrun with starry-eyed resolutioners who are all up on my elliptical starting tomorrow.  Other than that, my resolution is to make no weight-loss resolutions; just to make more weight-loss progress.

Happy and healthy 2016!

by

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.

by

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.

by

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!

by

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?!

 

by

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.

by

DAY 240: The humbling stumbling

Since my weight loss became noticeable and the compliments started coming, I’ve often been asked the question, “How are you doing it?”  My answer is always some variation of, “Well, basically, I cook all my own meals and go to the gym at least 4 times a week.”  I guess that is basically how I’ve been doing it, but man, there’s so much more than that going on.

This is on my mind right now because after what ended up being a 5-week hiatus, I’m finally getting back on track.  I’m surprised how much I forgot about how rocky the start to this whole weight-loss deal was!  I wouldn’t say it’s exactly like starting over; my mentality is nowhere near as fragile as it was at the beginning, I understand things now that I hadn’t yet learned then, my improved fitness level at this stage allows me to do more now than then, etc.  There are some big similarities, though, as I re-establish my routine.  That’s such a simple sentence, but the word “routine” hides a very complex list of crap.

Energy
In my most recent post before this one, I whined about feeling depleted and not feeling rested after nights of low-quality sleep.  I feel less energetic getting in only 4 miles per day than I did when I was consistently hitting 8 or 9, which included daily movements and grueling work-outs.  That’s not counterintuitive; being more physically active creates a higher sustained level of energy and contributes to sounder sleeping.  A steady metabolic rate from a constant flow of nutrients (and WATER!) has the same effects.  For the first time in a long time, I woke up this morning feeling as if I had slept the night before.  I got restorative, quality sleep.  AND I WANT MORE.  So I gotta move.

Eating
Staying on top of the consumption part of this became so mechanized for me that I started taking for granted how much work it was to reach that point.  Training myself to ignore pangs of hunger while my body was adjusting to the 5 small meals per day I take in was a real challenge.  When I was finally conditioned to that pattern, I never felt hungry.  No, really:  I never felt hungry.  Even in the few periods of this weight-loss experience when I was imperfect with my intake, I never strayed from the good eating habits with portions and timing that I set up early on.  The last several weeks, I was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay off.  I ate when and what I could, not when and what I should.  It sent my metabolism into a tailspin and pretty much deprogrammed it.  Getting back on track with the regular feeding times (like an animal — because my life is a zoo!) has again proven challenging, just as it was at the very beginning.  Feeling hungry sucks!  Fortunately, I have the knowledge that I succeeded at this once before, and therefore I know I will get to the other side again.  Note:  it would be much easier if pumpkin-spice-yogurt-covered pretzels didn’t exist.

Exercising
I crapped out on the gym two days ago after writing that I planned to go that evening, but I did go last night.  Admittedly, it wasn’t the high-intensity cardio work-out I needed, but I did resume my arm weights.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t like before when I missed 2 weeks of gym time and had major soreness after my first time back, but I do feel it today in a way I haven’t for quite some time.  I kind of like it, though.  It means it’s working.

Elephanting (I would have said “Weight” here, but why destroy a good alliteration pattern?)
Instead of punking out and not submitting my weight for the third round of the Transformer Diet Bet I’m currently in, I bit the bullet and owned up to my miss this time.  I have dug myself into a pretty big hole with the last month of recklessness, but with a lot of hard work, I still have a chance to come back and win round 4.  Regardless of whether I regain my footing in time to win this round, the next round, or the final round, I will make damn sure I win the overall bet.  There’s the many pounds of damage to undo, plus the ground I would have had to cover anyway.  It’s going to be tough — especially with Thanksgiving and time spent at my parents’ (read:  away from the gym again) thrown into the middle of this — but I have to find a way to rise to this.  I’m even considering joining another Diet Bet for extra support and motivation, but I haven’t fully jumped on my own bandwagon of belief that I can actually LOSE weight over the holidays.  Decisions, decisions….

This is a moment where I’m really glad I have this blog to reread.  It was never as simple as cooking everything for myself and getting to the gym regularly.  It was planning nutritious meals, finding the time to cook and apportion all of them in advance, separating my professional and personal stresses from my mission, putting myself first, getting support through writing on here and interacting on Diet Bet, consecrating time to work out, pushing myself through tough workouts and celebrating myself for making it, knowing when to up the weights I’m lifting or increase the speed I’m running, learning to resist the parade of sugar and carbs sitting in the open at work all day, scheduling and sticking to meal times, diverting money to replace my wardrobe, ensuring I got enough sleep, and learning to accept the praise and validations of others for all my hard work.  There is no scenario in the world where it would be acceptable to rattle off that entire list to someone who asked me what I’m doing to lose weight, but let’s get real for a minute:  it’s all of the above and more.  I’m spelling all of that out in recognition of all the effort it takes to really make this machine operate on all cylinders.  It’s never as easy as it sounds.

That’s a little bit why I’m cutting myself some slack here.  My recent stumble sucks, yeah, and it was very humbling.  I’m frustrated with myself, and disappointed that it caused me to lose a round of my DB, and even a little nervous about the situation I’ve put myself in.  However, this is NOT a defeat, and it’s not insurmountable.  Self care is still the priority, and that means not making me my own enemy.

All this to say, my work is cut out for me.  Time to test the ol’ mettle.  I think it’ll stand up.  After all, the girl responsible for this

transformer2

is also responsible for this.

transformer1

by

DAY 238: Peek-a-boo!

I’M ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

Full disclosure:  possibly the biggest reason why I haven’t posted in so long is that counting the days since my last update was such a chore!  How sad is that??

It’s been a super, super packed last 5 weeks.  Fall is always my busiest season because it’s my favorite season, so I tend to fill it with more things that make me happy.  First of all, my birthday was in mid-October, so that happened.  A few days after that, I left the country for two weeks of travel.  I returned from that to a VERY full plate at work which fully consumed me up until even today, and over the weekend that just ended, I hosted a dinner party at my house whose menu was entirely pumpkin-themed — and homemade.

Needless to say, between the complete lack of time, the travel, and the general overbookedness of my life the last month plus, my fitness routine pretty much jumped off a cliff.  I have weighed myself once since I got back, but I really don’t even remember what number the scale said; I only registered that, not surprisingly, I had gained a few pounds since the last time I weighed in for anything.

I am stressed and tired.  I haven’t seen the inside of a gym in over a month.  I have gorged myself on desserts, café drinks, and unhealthy restaurant food.  I have dropped the ball with meal and snack prep (until this week — phew!).  I’ve spent a fuck-ton of money on all of the above.  And, oh yeah, it bears repeating that I GAINED WEIGHT.

Now here’s the really weird part:  I’m OK with that.

I knew what I was doing as I was doing it.  I consciously chose to eat cupcakes, ice cream, chocolate, and so on instead of being extra vigilant with my diet to compensate for the impossibility of going to the gym.  I had a burst of uncontrolled living life as it happens, and ya know what?  That’s what typical people do, I hear.  It felt great to feel like a normal human for a bit.

It also felt pretty gross.

My energy levels are SOOOOOOOOOOOOO low.  I found that while I was on vacation, I consistently got exhausted — not a little bit tired, but honestly just completely wiped out — around 2 PM every day from A) not eating at consistent intervals throughout the day, and B) having totally erratic bouts of exercise.  Being off of that game for 2 weeks and returning to a moment where I’d so overcommitted myself to professional and personal events that it prevented me from taking care of myself and returning immediately to my healthy lifestyle meant I started eating on the fly again, which meant the return of those nasty chemicals.  I’ve started experiencing cravings again, and having to fight with myself not to indulge.  I’ve felt desperately hungry from irregular eating, which makes me eat too much when the time for food finally comes.  I’ve been short tempered and irritable.  The inertia from inactivity makes me feel lazy about going to the gym, and makes me actually not WANT to go.  The combination of not eating or working out properly has affected the quality of my sleep.  I’ve been feeling draggy and getting headaches.  I feel a step away from disgusting.

That’s exactly why I know I must resume my routine.  NOW.

Because of the weight gain, I won’t win my transformer round that weighs out today/tomorrow.  I hate that.  Hate, hate, hate that.  I liked looking at my DietBet profile and seeing a perfect streak of nothing but wins.  I’ve ruined that.  I can still win the 6-month bet, though… and I fully intend to.

I came to work today with my survival kit all prepared:  lunch box packed with AM snack, lunch, and PM snack; backpack filled with gym clothes.  As the old cliché goes, this whole thing is more mental than physical.  All I have to do is physically act on what my mind knows will lead to success, and I can fix this and still hit my year-end goal for the weight loss.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…