DAY 740: Headlines

1. I finally made it to the gym today!
2. I got a headache again today ūüė¶
3. I weighed out for round 2 of my DietBet and won!
4. Since starting Whole30, I’ve lost a whopping 14 pounds! ¬†Whaaaaa? ¬†(And I still have 13 days to go!)
5. For my height, I have moved (back) from extremely obese to just regular obese.  Ah, what a strange milestone to celebrate.

That’s all I’ve got for today. ¬†Short, but a lot. ¬†Kinda like my BMI. ¬†ūüėČ

DAY 732: Cheater, cheater, healthy eater

It’s day 9 of Whole30. ¬†According to the timeline, my pants are supposed to be feeling tighter on days 8-9. ¬†They’re not. ¬†Everything is feeling looser, including the ring that slid off my finger yesterday and had to be relocated to a neighboring digit to preclude a repeat event.

“Fuck it,” I thought to myself around 9:00 last night.

And I headed to the scale.

And I weighed myself.

Now, there was the inherent risk in this of being completely¬†crushed by the number I saw. ¬†What if it was higher? ¬†What if it was infinitesimal? ¬†What if — heaven forbid — it was completely unchanged?! ¬†I figured it was worth knowing, even though it wasn’t the final Whole30 weight-loss number. ¬†I stood on the scale, looked down at my toes, and saw…

…a 10.6-pound loss.

Yes, honey.

I’ll repeat that: ¬†As of 9:00 PM on day 8 of Whole30, I had lost 10.6 pounds.

Here come ALL THE DISCLAIMERS and a BUT STILL:

  • The first week of any diet change is the best week. ¬†It’s the body’s freak-out-and-adjust period, where it sheds tons of water weight and other crap you don’t need. ¬†So, it’s not like I’ll be dropping 10.6 pounds per week here.
  • My period started yesterday. ¬†(I have a vagina and corresponding lady bits. ¬†I discuss my period sometimes like a grown-ass woman. ¬†If this bugs you, go read someone else’s blog.) ¬†All my period bloat happens during PMS week, and then I lose weight the week of the actual perioding. ¬†So, that’s a factor.
  • I had several bouts of diarrhea on day 8, leading up to the scale reading. ¬†(I have an anus and corresponding human bits. ¬†I discuss my bowels sometimes like a grown-ass adult. ¬†If this bugs you, go read someone else’s blog.) ¬†So, that surely had an effect.
  • I’ve had whatever this illness is since Saturday night, which is often a dehydrating force. ¬†So, that likely showed up on the scale.

BUT STILL…

TEN POINT SIX POUNDS, Y’ALL.

I’m not sorry for weighing myself. ¬†In fact, I’ll probably stick with doing it once a week for the duration of the time I stick with Whole30 (and I phrase it that way because, as of right now, I’m seriously considering just sticking with it through the wedding I’m in in May). ¬†Furthermore, I’m cheating on Whole30 in a couple of other ways that Melissa Hartwig would probably have my head for:

  • I’m snacking between meals. ¬†Yeah, that’s right, I’m intentionally snacking. ¬†I am not changing my usual eating rhythm of eating every 3 hours, even though Whole30 stipulates that you should restrict yourself to only 3 meals per day and not snack unless you’re desperate. ¬†Welp, not this chick. ¬†I’m sticking to my 5 meals because I know it works for me, body and soul schedule. ¬†I don’t think it’s worth veering off of that, so I chose not to from the outset.
  • I’m not perfectly balancing my proteins, fats, and carbs at each feeding. ¬†I mean, I mostly end up doing it just by luck, but I’m not melting my brain trying to make that happen. ¬†I am not adding almond butter to every apple I eat¬†just because I must have healthy fat. ¬†I mustn’t. ¬†I wantn’t. ¬†So I willn’t. ¬†(Coincidentally, I do happen to eat an apple and actual almonds at the same scheduled snack time, but the point stands.) ¬†The balance will mostly work out over the course of the day. ¬†Mainly, I just want to get enough veggies, so that’s primarily been my focus.

I don’t think these two grievous modifications will drastically skew my results in any direction, nor am I quite that inclined to care. ¬†The big point of Whole30, which I¬†am adhering to 100%, is the elimination. ¬†Here’s what I *AM* doing:

  • No added (refined) sugar
  • No legumes
  • No alcohol
  • No grains at all
  • No soy
  • No dairy
  • No coffee (not a part of the program; added by me)

Therefore, the intended anti-inflammatory experiment has room to run, and I’m still doing it “right.” ¬†I hereby absolve myself of my sins.

Deal with it, Melissa.

P.S. ¬†10.6 pounds. ¬†Just sayin’.
P.P.S. ¬†Someone even commented today in reference to Whole30 that “it’s working.”
P.P.P.S.  Shut up, Melissa.

DAY 683: Body work

Decent news from the world of podiatry: my bone spur is NOT the issue. ¬†In fact, it has shrunken since I first went in to have it examined. ¬†The discomfort I’m feeling now is from strain on my¬†plantar fascia ligament, which is tight and stretches when I take take steps, causing inflammation and the popping sensation in my heel. ¬†My doctor offered to give me a cortisol injection today that would take care of the unpleasant feeling instantaneously, and possibly permanently, but I decided to hold off. ¬†He’s prescribed me orthotic inserts that will help correct my immediate problem, and they won’t be ready for 3-4 weeks. ¬†My (self-reported) pain level is at about a 3, so I figure that if it gets worse between now and the time I go back to the podiatrist’s office to pick up the orthotics, I’ll get the shot then (or sooner, if there’s a sudden spike). ¬†Otherwise, I’ll give the orthotics (and, hopefully, a bit of weight loss!) a chance to make an impact and then go from there.

It is interesting how my body has responded to my weight re-gain. ¬†I had trained it to be accustomed to a certain amount of movement with less and less mass to carry, and now, it has rapidly re-accumulated a bunch of that mass which was partially caused by, and also which partially contributed to, a significant decrease in movement. ¬†The¬†way that added weight has shown up on me has been interesting. ¬†Whereas I lost it from all over, it really feels like 90% of it went directly to my waist¬†when it came back. ¬†Yes, my face and fingers have pudged out, but the rings I couldn’t wear when I was previously at this weight are still fitting from when I had reached my lowest, but the pants I was wearing when I was last at this weight aren’t. ¬†I know this isn’t any kind of earth-shattering revelation, but the areas that are hardest to lose from, are easiest to gain to. ¬†We all have our trouble spots, eh? ¬†REMINDER TO FUTURE SELF: ¬†Don’t mess around, girl. ¬†It’s too hard to work the fat back off! ¬†Not worth it.

This is so much work. ¬†I’m looking forward to getting back to the place where it just felt routine and second-nature.

Wishing all of you strength and perseverance through the weekend!

DAY 626: No, darlin’.

This… this blog! ¬†It’s alive! ¬†IT’S ALIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

Sooooooo, as you may have guessed, it’s been a wretched several months. ¬†Work? ¬†Bad. ¬†Love life? ¬†Bad. ¬†Family situation? ¬†Bad. ¬†Friendships? ¬†Bad. ¬†World events? ¬†Bad. ¬†Things have been varying degrees of bad at different times since (and during) the last time I updated this dusty old thing, but the general trend has been just¬†bad.

Some of that will probably come out in greater detail over the next span of entries, but the bottom line is, I haven’t been handling any of it like the baller I was around this time last year. ¬†It’s been uber stressful and I’ve been letting it get to me. ¬†I regained a fuck-ton of weight and I feel like shit about it: ¬†I’m disappointed in myself and ashamed of what I’ve done to negate all my hard work. ¬†Also, man, what a luxury it was to have been so much lighter. ¬†I had forgotten how sucky and embarrassing it is to get winded from walking up a flight and a half of steps.

But ya know, as much as losing weight is secretly a community effort when it’s all going right — you know what I’m talking about if you’re a fellow fatty who gets life from the affirming compliments, helpful online (or even in-person) communities, and essential readings/watchings along the way — it’s equally so¬†when it’s all going wrong.

In the midst¬†of a series of crises at work a couple of weeks ago, I was having a conversation with a colleague about what a mess we were dealing with. ¬†This particular colleague and I typically have conversations that remind me of¬†what it looks like if you draw a flower in the air with your finger: ¬†they start at a central point, then they swing far out from what we were discussing before making their way back to the central issue, only to curve out to something totally different again before veering sharply back to center, and so on and so on until all the petals are drawn. ¬†They’re unpredictable discussions that are simultaneously about 14 different things that somehow all relate in some delicate way. ¬†The conversation we had a few weeks back was no exception. ¬†My colleague had just finished verbally drawing a petal about what she likes to do on weekends before unexpectedly bringing it back to our work situation thusly: ¬†“I say this to you as a woman who has struggled with her own weight: ¬†your face is looking fuller. ¬†That’s stress. ¬†No, darlin’.”

Her delivery was gentle, yet direct, and her message was clear: ¬†Don’t let this place take any more from you.

Those words have been ringing in the back of my head since that conversation, and even though I didn’t successfully put a course correction into place until several weeks later, what she said to me has been helping to stoke the embers of my fading mission back into a fire ever since.

I have wanted to make a new blog post for the longest time, but I couldn’t imagine seeing my failure splashed across a webpage that I wrote with my own hands. ¬†I didn’t want to accept how bad things have gotten. ¬†All the while, I was knowingly avoiding this space to my detriment, because I know that not expressing upsetting things doesn’t make them untrue, and I also know that writing about this whole experience — the good¬†and¬†the bad — is part of what was helping me succeed before. ¬†So, enough time has now passed, and enough healthy weeks have gone by that I feel less-ashamed enough to make a post.

I still care.  I still want to live my best life.  I still have goals, and I still want to achieve them.

I will not let anyone stand in my way.  Including me.

No, darlin’.

 

DAY 343: The longest shortest month

Leap Day, you reeeeeeeally had to prolong this cruel month?  Well, thanks a fuck-ton.

Silver lining:  at least all the mess will live within the confines of the same month and not spill over into March.  My work drama is, for all intents and purposes, resolved as of today.  (Phew!)

Tarnished edge around the silver lining: ¬†that’s one more day of making all my steps that I was calendar strong-armed into. ¬†Maybe I’ll keep the streak alive just to break my own VivoFit PBR.

It looked like I wasn’t going to hit my 4% goal in the kickstarter Diet Bet I did this month. ¬†I was dropping a piddly average per week in the first 3 weeks of February, thanks in part to my lackadaisical performance in the gym all month, and thanks in part to the stupid, stupid stress I’ve been putting up with. ¬†My food choices were still almost entirely clean, it was just the sustained level of nerves messing with my peace of mind, which showed up in hits to my sleeping and to my hormonal balance.

Then somehow, mercifully, the scale coughed up 4.2 pounds last week. ¬†That’s my best week’s worth of results since my October 11th weigh-in (-4.4 pounds). ¬†And that’s another Diet Bet win all sewn up.

I believe I have changed enough that I would have been proud of having lost any weight at all under these circumstances instead of surrendering to the pressure this month, even if I had not hit my DB goal.  I gotta say, though, that somehow pulling out a victory in the face of all that was a pretty sweet surprise (and reward) for making it through without falling apart.

If this were a video game, I would have just leveled up in mental toughness.  Skill unlocked: crisis management.

Now, on to the next BFD: my impending one-year anniversary on my mission.  I have big plans for March.

I have big senioritis for February.  Good riddance, ya little jerk.

DAY 331: Holy mole-y!

Welp, today was a day I’ve spent the past several weeks being¬†somewhere on the spectrum between not looking forward to and dreading: ¬†my first mole screening.

Moles, moles, moles. ¬†I’ve got more moles than a bad cop show. ¬†Of course, I grew up with my mom putting her loving spin on the terminology and calling them “beauty marks.” ¬†Unfortunately, naming them something else doesn’t exempt you from potential associated health risks.

I wasn’t uncomfortable about this visit to my dermatologist because there’s anything alarming with any of my “beauty marks.” ¬†It was the exam I wasn’t down with. ¬†You have to lie on a table wearing¬†one of those awful open-in-the-front paper robes with nothin’ but your skivvies and bra on underneath, while the doctor examines your skin inch-by-inch while he’s wearing¬†all¬†of¬†his¬†clothes, plus magnifying glasses.

I’d rather do almost anything else.

Except have skin cancer.

So, I did the screening.

Shockingly, it wasn’t so bad! ¬†I mean, sure, I felt like a lab specimen, but that’s true of most doctor’s visits for me. ¬†Everything is clear and my doctor isn’t worried about any of my moles. ¬†So, that’s one unpleasant visit over and done.

The further good¬†news? ¬†I realized that life below 200 pounds means that those stupid examination robes actually stay closed around your body if you don’t want to let it all hang out. ¬†I also learned that your heart doesn’t race with embarrassment the whole time the doctor is looking at the parts of your body you wish you could trade in for better models. ¬†At the end of the visit, you get to leave with your dignity, and you don’t even feel like crying. ¬†It’s miraculous.

Oh, and I’ll throw in a little milestone from last night:

P.S. ¬†That’s not a mole on my foot, it’s a cut from some breaking in some new boots that also broke in me.

Can you guess what that is around my ankle?

No, it’s not a house-arrest bracelet monitor.

It’s the large VivoFit band that used to fit my wrist, pictured halfway down my arm here in December:

FullSizeRender (1)

I’m too jazzed to expend mental energy putting an elegant little bow on all of that. ¬†But¬†you can see a bunch of my moles in that picture of my arm, so it ties together. ¬†And maybe I’ll go watch a bad cop show for good measure.

Just roll.

 

ūüôā ūüôā ūüôā ūüôā ūüôā

DAY 324: The big reveal

I issued myself a dare a while back.  The dare was that when this photo happened, I would stop being coy and secretive about the numbers.  I was REEEEEALLY pushing myself on the whole fearless thing.

OK, past-me.  Here goes.

 

 

 

Screen Shot 2016-02-10 at 8.31.24 PM

That, ladies and gentlemen, is my current weight.  I JUST SHARED MY WEIGHT.

And that’s ONEDERLAND.

That makes TWO BFDs.

Now for the rest of the numbers:

  • Starting weight (March 7th,¬†2015): ¬†303 pounds*
  • Diet Bet starting weight (April 17th, 2015): ¬†279.2 pounds**
  • Final goal weight: ¬†140 pounds (doctor approved!) ¬†(Well, the official line is that I’ll see how 140 feels. ¬†If there’s more to do at that point, I’ll do it.)

Um, I haven’t been in the 190s since I was on my way up the scale in¬†my sophomore year of college, which was the worst year of my life. ¬†It’s when all kinds of horrible things happened and I coped with the sadness and stress by eating everything in sight. ¬†No one who has met me since I was 19 has ever seen me this size. ¬†Ever. ¬†That’s BFD number three.

For the official record, I saw 199 on the scale for the first time 2 weeks back, but it was a morning scale read, which doesn’t count in my mind. ¬†I’ve even seen 198 in the morning, but again, it doesn’t count. ¬†I’m going to say something crazy now, which is that yesterday, I¬†felt 199. ¬†So tonight at the gym, I weighed myself, and for the first time in over a decade, I got to move the 50-pound weight to 150 instead of 200. ¬†I’m in the 150 club. ¬†That’s BFD number four.

Finally, I have unhidden my Diet Bet weight chart on my profile. ¬†Don’t believe me? ¬†Here’s the proof. ¬†That’s BFD number five.

Screen Shot 2016-02-10 at 8.36.19 PM

 

And now that that’s all out in the open… rest of sentence.

If you need me, I’ll be walking in a winter onederland.

ūüôā

FOOTNOTES/DISCLAIMERS/FURTHER EXPLANATIONS:

*I remember¬†my weight on this date because it was the night before I left on an international trip and I weighed myself for the first time in weeks because I was worried about spending hours in an uncomfortably small airplane seat. ¬†It was my heaviest weight in my life. ¬†Yeah, that ride¬†did suck; not only was I physically uncomfortable, but I had that number emblazoned on my brain the entire time. ¬†Luckily, I came back having magically shed nearly 10 pounds (without trying), and I let that be my momentum. ¬†The conscious choice to lose it all forever was on March 23rd, a few days after getting home from said trip. ¬†At my doctor’s appointment on March 26th, I was at 289.

**This may look like a lot¬†to lose within a short period, but it just falls the fuck off when you’re 303 pounds and suddenly adopt the healthy lifestyle your body has always wanted. ¬†It’s also a lot of water weight. ¬†I wasn’t doing anything extreme; I’ve always been level-headed and healthy in my approach. ¬†I’m going to do this right from start to finish. ¬†Promise.