My inner 2-year-old

 Works for me!

I've never had a kid, but I've been around enough kids (and am friends with enough mommies) to know that two-year-olds are, indeed, terrible in many ways. They can be awfully cute, too - my nephews are prime examples of cuteness - but toddlers aren't exactly known for being logical, reasonable, and/or cooperative. Which means I can pretty much recognize those characteristics when they occur in me. You see, I have an inner two-year-old, and she's a whiny brat.

My inner two-year-old always has to have things her own way. She pouts and throws tantrums at the drop of a hat. She doesn't like to share and she's sure that anyone who doesn't do things her way is doing them the wrong way. She is impatient and demanding and would give Veruca Salt a run for her money.

Most of all, my inner two-year-old incessantly complains about how unfair everything is. It's unfair that I will be counting calories for the rest of my life when it feels like every other woman I know can eat whatever they want, in any quantity. It's unfair that one cookie has the power to send me into a sugar shame spiral. It's unfair that, even after I've worked so hard, my body still has lumps and bumps and stretch marks. It's unfair that I'm short - which translates into needing fewer calories overall - and it's unfair that I still have a muffin top. It's unfair that I'm genetically disposed to big calves (no cute boots!) and Type II diabetes.

Unfair, unfair, UNFAIR!

OK, I feel better now.

The thing is, written out like that, the educated, intelligent 34-year-old that I actually am looks at that list of "unfair" things and kind of cringes. Gosh. I mean, yes, I do have a history of heart disease and high blood pressure in my family, but that doesn't mean they're inevitable for me. I'm doing what I can to control those risk factors and I have to remember that no one chooses their genetics (I also have a grandfather who lived to 90 and a great-grandmother who lived to . . . well, forever and a day old).

Yep, as discussed before in my post on the lying mirror, I'm not always 100% happy with what I see, but few if any of us are and everybody we see on TV and in magazines and on billboards is photoshopped to death anyway.

And finally, since joining the ranks of "thin" from the ranks of "overweight," I realize now how much weight and fitness is a struggle for many, many women. (Sorry, guys, I can't really offer any insight for you here.) While it may seem like the woman next to me can eat whatever she wants and not gain an ounce, the truth is that she's probably consciously or unconsciously moderating her food intake in a way that I've never grasped. I need calorie trackers whereas she's able to do it with physical cues, but we're both monitoring in some way. When I first realized this is was a complete and total shock to me: I was eating at IHOP with an old friend (I was having something off the Simple 'n Fit menu, thank you very much) while my friend was having chocolate chip pancakes. I've never seen this friend in any light but "thin" yet that day she told me that she had 3 or 4 different sizes in her closet and was constantly up and down on the scale within a certain range. That was an epiphany to me; you mean she's not "naturally thin"? She works at it, too?

I'm a big baby, yes, it's true. I want it to be easy and simple and fair. But it's not. We don't all start out on an even playing field and nothing's going to change that.

I'm responsible for what I do now. And that responsibility (which my inner 2-year-old is DYING to get rid of) is the 34-year-old's job.

Now, when's nap time?

On failure

Pretty much the most awesomest commercial ever. 

My favorite part is how they conveniently leave out the #1 ingredient: sugar.

Let’s talk about failure. Not because I particularly want to, but because failure is an inevitable part of change. And it stinks. So how do we overcome it? Do we ever? Have I? Stay tuned . . .  (dun dun DUN!).

(Um, I’ll cut the suspense. Nope, I’m still pretty much mired in failure. I hope I didn’t ruin the ending for you.)

I was really nice to myself when I started exercising and losing weight. Every day was filled with baby steps, and I stuck to my little slogan of “Progress, not perfection.” Putting my exercise shoes on and popping a DVD into the player was cause for celebration. Choosing vegetables instead of garlic bread, or a piece of fruit instead of a chocolate bar, was almost easy (at times!) and made me feel satisfied and accomplished. I started to get stronger and faster, my jeans were getting looser, and I was on the road to success.

I had this thing figured out. No big deal.

We can all see where this going, right? I kept going for a long time (mostly because I had a looooong way to go) but in the end I had a day where I crashed and burned and ended up face down in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I felt gross and my belly hurt and the next morning my scale mocked me. Instead of a three digit number, the LED screen might as well have spelled out “You are never going to change so you might as well stop now.” Dumb scale.

That was a while ago, of course. I shook it off, got back on track, and called it a one-off (thanks, Brits, for this incredibly useful expression). I re-focused my efforts and figured out what had gone wrong – the first mistake was buying the dadgum ice cream to begin with. I made promises to myself and felt SO much better (physically and mentally) when I was “on plan” and eating well and working out. I looked at my momentary slip-up and shook my head in puzzlement, wondering “Why would I ever do something like that again? I've learned my lesson for sure.” Until, of course, it happened again (no Ben & Jerry’s this time, instead the culprit was Publix bakery chocolate chip cookies. I maintain the lovely Publix bakery workers use heroin-laced chocolate chips).

I would love to say I have it all figured out. I would love the say that my health takes priority every day. I would love to say that all of my “failure” is past tense because I have overcome obstacles and now successfully anticipate and navigate the minefields of weight maintenance. I am a success story!

But saying all – or any – of that would be the BIGGEST LIE EVER. Because yesterday I was tired and cranky and stressed-out and, since I was at Wal-Mart anyway, I decided dinner would be a jar of Nutella and a spoon. While the commercial assures me that Nutella can be part of a complete, balanced breakfast, there was nary a whole-wheat waffle in sight – just me repeatedly digging into the jar, thinking, “I can stop anytime.” Ugh.

(Note: I want to be clear and say that when I’m talking about failure in these instances, I don’t mean having a portion of dessert or even having 3 pieces of pizza when you planned to have 2. I mean going back to old habits that I thought I put behind me. Dessert is good and pizza is yummy – dealing with my emotions via food isn’t.)

This morning? Besides the residue of a tummy ache and the sugar hangover, I realize once again that this path I’ve set for myself is hard – at times, let’s face it, excruciating – and there are some lessons I seem bound and determined to never learn. I’m also reminded that it’s worth it and that falling off the wagon doesn’t have to mean staying off the wagon.

At some point it becomes impossible to talk about failure without descending into really tired clichés. As annoying as they are, they’re handy little buggers, aren’t they? So here’s the failure-related cliché of the day:

You don’t fail by falling down, you fail by staying down.

So I’m picking myself up and dusting myself off. The (embarrassingly tiny) remainder of the Nutella is safely in the trash can; you can feel free to yell at me about food waste, but better wasted in the trash than wasted in my body. My running clothes are laid out and ready for 3 miles before dinner. Dinner is planned and healthy groceries have been purchased for the week.

I’m going to remember that I’m not a failure. You’re not either. We’re working on ourselves and have good days and bad days, and some days that we wish we could do over, or maybe wish they'd never happened at all. But, once again, it’s progress, not perfection.

And please, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT let me buy a jar of Nutella ever again. OK? Thanks. I’ll owe you forever.

There is no magic moment

January 1st. Next Monday. The day after my birthday party. When I get the new job/new apartment/new haircut/new . . . whatever. Just not now.


There is no magic moment for change. If it matters to you now, start now. If it doesn't matter to you now, why will it matter to you after the weekend? When the predetermined time arrives, why do we always think it'll be easier to start then, as opposed to right now?


Why have I had to relearn this lesson about 265,494 times in my life?

Today I moved from the house I shared with a roommate into the house my parents have bought for their future retirement (laugh if you want, but hey, big empty house!). This move has been in the works for a while, and has been definite since Thanksgiving, but it wasn't until yesterday that I caught myself having the following internal dialogue:

- Gosh, I really need to take that online research training course for work.
- Oh, yeah, but you can do it once you're in the new place. 

What the heck? What in the world does me being "in the new place" have to do with whether or not I complete a online training for my job????

So I got to thinking, and here is a list of things I've been putting off until I moved. No joke.
- Filing my taxes
- Renewing my AAA membership
- Changing my address for a couple of mailing lists I'm on (and want to stay on)
- Getting an oil change
- Planning my trip to a professional conference in late March

That list is ridiculous. What is even more ridiculous is the fact that I'm finally, as of today, in my new place and I still have no motivation to do any of those things. Er, ok, I'm pretty motivated to get an oil change because I really, really like having reliable transportation. But April 15th is tax day, right? Plenty of time.

Isaac Newton may have been the first guy to "discover" the principle of inertia, but I'm pretty sure I rediscover it daily. My body at rest tends to stay at rest. It's always, always harder to get started than it is to keep moving.

So with that I'm off to unpack some boxes and get myself settled in . . . maybe once I'm settled, I'll think about renewing my AAA membership. Yeah, maybe.

Things I wish I could say

 
On days where the weather is tolerable, I head out to the Silver Comet trail for my run. I should say that I started running on a treadmill and it was fine, in the same way that Velveeta is fine; once I started running outside on the trail, it was like my first taste of quality sharp cheddar and running on the treadmill has pretty much ceased to be an option. (Yes, I'm using a food analogy to describe exercise - you have a problem with that?)

I love the trail. It's long - stretching from here in Atlanta to Alabama - and runs through residential areas, covered with old trees. It's shady and well-populated in the times I choose to go (see, Mom and Dad, I'm totally safe!) with cyclists, moms pushing jogging strollers, little kids on bikes, and lots of walkers and runners. It's a really fun place to people-watch, too, which is one of my all-time favorite things to do.

Today I passed a woman who was huffing and puffing and giving it all she had. She had headphones in and was jamming out to . . . well, whether it was actually "music" or not I'm not sure, but she was enjoying herself as she marched down the trail and hummed along to her iPod. Our eyes met and we did the whole head up-nod acknowledgment that I've now perfected as a runner on the trail (sometimes I smile, but more often than not I don't have the extra energy - everything in me is focused on not tripping). As we passed each other, I wished I could say something encouraging, something positive, because I honestly loved how hard she was working and how much she was into it. But I didn't say anything - I was afraid I would look like a patronizing jerk. She doesn't know my journey.

I have wished many times that I could tell the people on the trail or at the gym - not the "fit" people, but the people who are struggling, who are self-conscious, who are walking or running or exercising for the first time since 9th grade gym class - I wish that I could tell them so many things. So, because this is my blog and I can do what I want, I'm going to write them here, and at least put them out into the universe.

I wish I could tell you  . . . 

- That there will always be someone faster, stronger, thinner, or more fit. That doesn't make you less than they are. This is not a zero-sum game.
- You are your own competition. You're the only one you're trying to beat.
- It doesn't matter what you look like when you're exercising. If people have time to look at you and judge you then that means they're not working hard enough.
- Some days you will set a new distance, time, or pace record. Some days it will be a struggle to tie your laces and actually leave your house. Both days are worth celebrating. 
- We're not in high school anymore, and isn't that good news? (This may not have anything to do with fitness, exactly, but I like to remember this fact as often as possible.)
- Make it a habit. Give it time. Be patient with yourself.
- You are stronger than you think you are. 
- The first 5 minutes are the hardest, I promise. Just get through those and it'll get easier.
- Exercise is the best stress-reducer ever invented in the history of the universe. For real.
- Living a healthy lifestyle (after long-term "unhealthiness") may never be easy, but it does get easier.
- Exercising is only part of the equation. Chick-fil-A is not, sadly, a good post-workout recovery meal. I wish.
- You are someone's brother, sister, mother, father, best friend, daughter, son . . . you are loved by people who want to keep you around for a long time.
- Decide how long you're going to go. If you want to stop halfway because it's too hard, ask yourself, "What hurts?" If the answer is "nothing," keep going. You're not finished yet.
- If something hurts, STOP. No extra points for martyrdom.

Finally, random people trying to get fit on the trail, I wish I could tell you that I have been where you are. Being healthy is not an unachievable dream. So when you see me up-nodding and smiling at you, what I'm really saying is, "Keep going. Don't stop. It's not always fun and some days it downright sucks, but it is always, always worth it."

The mirror is a lying liar that lies

 There are definite drawbacks, sure, but at least vampires don't obsess over the mirror.

The conversation went a little something like this:

Laura*: I think those jeans would look great on you. You should try them on.

Me: Um . . . well . . . I don't know . . .

Laura: No, really! They're great quality, they look like they'd last forever. (She pulls and tugs on the material, showing how stretchy it is.) Look at that stretch! It's great!

Me (Mumbling in my head): Huh, look at that stretch. Great is NOT the word.

Me (Out loud, trying for some enthusiasm): Oh, sure, why not? I'll try them on.

Laura: Now, what size are you? I think you're a ____, right?

Me: Oh, no. Not at this store. I'm sure those would be too small. Let's go one size up. Maybe two sizes up.

Laura, looking at me skeptically: I don't think so. But, OK, we'll get my size and one up.

(In the dressing room.)

My internal monologue: I can't believe I let her talk me into this. But it's just trying stuff on, right? I'll try the smaller size first, just to show that they don't fit. Oh wow, they button, that's a good sign. But gosh, these are stretchy! You can see everything! . But . . . what!?!? They're SKINNY JEANS!!!! WHY AM I WEARING SKINNY STRETCHY JEANS?

Me, as I exit the dressing room to where Laura is waiting for me: Um, I don't know. They're so . . . stretchy. And tight.

Laura: Look at your legs! Your legs are so teeny.

Me: But, um, aren't these tight? And, um, really stretchy? And, um, tight?

Laura, with a look of puzzlement: Are you not comfortable in them?

Me: Well, not exactly. They're, you know, tight.

Laura: They look good, but if you don't like them . . .

Me, entering my dressing room with a sigh of relief: Yeah, I'm just going to change back into my clothes.

***************
 
Mark Twain probably didn't say it first, but he did make the quote famous. For the purposes of this blog, though, I'm going to change the quote a bit:

There are three kinds of lies: Lies, damned lies, and mirrors. 

(Sorry for the cursing, Mom, but let's be honest, Mark Twain would never have said "darned lies").

I've made reference before to the fact that, until I was 32 years old, I would have been classified as overweight or obese. Those are the medical/technical words, but the in the real world, the word we use is FAT. When you grow up fat in a fat-phobic culture, in a country that vilifies fat (while at the same time promoting nothing but junk food and removing PE from schools - but that's a topic for a different post) it's fair to say that you have your own set of particular body image issues.

To be even more clear, I need to change the pronouns on that last sentence - growing up, and as an adult, I, me, Jennifer - I had my own set of body image issues.

And now I don't because I am thin and life is perfect!!!!!!!

Um, no. Nice try. Play again.

Laura is a friend of a friend who moved to Atlanta recently. I've been having fun hanging out with her and getting to know her. We met the other day for coffee and window shopping and wandered into Anthropologie. Now, some of my blog readers will be familiar with that store, and some of you will have no idea, so to sum it up, Anthropologie is a very expensive collection of trendy clothes, home accessories, and a lot of stuff that pretends to be old but it's new so you have to pay a lot of money for it. That sounds kind of disparaging, I realize, and I do admit I am (not so secretly) judgy about the people who can afford to drop $88 on a T-shirt, but I am also (not so secretly) envious of said people.

After browsing through the store, Laura started looking at a rack of black jeans close to the exit, and the dialogue at the beginning of the post is basically what happened next. First of all, forget the fact that I was trying on skinny jeans for the first time ever, they price tag on the jeans was $169 and unless they were made of platinum (which probably isn't that stretchy) I wasn't going to buy them. But even the idea of trying them on had me a little anxious. Why? Because I would have to look at myself in the mirror while wearing them.

The mirror is an evil, demented creature. If we let it - and, let's face it, if we are people alive in the 21st century, we have let it - it will take whatever feelings of self-worth, self-confidence, and self-esteem we have and boil all of that down to one single idea: Do I look good today?

I feel like, of all people, I should get a free pass from the mirror. And that's not just because I lost weight, either. Remember all of those before/after pictures I posted awhile ago? Well, if there's one thing being both fat and thin have taught me it's that what makes me Jennifer is MUCH more about the inside that about the outside. My sense of humor, my patience, my clever wit (oh, you know I have a clever wit!) and my obvious humility are all integral parts of who I am. Those were there when I was overweight and they're still here now in a slightly smaller package (which, of course, raises the question, how can this package contain all this awesomeness? It's a mystery for the ages, my friends).

So yeah, for how much effort I've expended over the last couple of years, you'd think that I'd be ecstatically happy every time I look in the mirror. But I am not. Because the mirror is a liar and says horrible things to me about lumpy skin, a belly pooch, the beginnings of wrinkles while simultaneously having a gigantic pimple on my chin, thinning hair, and stretch marks that are here for the duration.

But that's not all! Occasionally, the mirror says really great things to me. It's say I look good, that my hair is behaving, that my skin isn't so bad, that this shirt flatters me nicely, that my smile is pretty, that my teeth are straight and white (shout out to my parents for the orthodontia!).

The truth is that the mirror is less an objective reflection of what I look like and more of a subjective reflection of how I feel that day. After all, on the same day I notice my pretty smile I still have the extra skin on my upper arms. So my mood influences the mirror which, in turn, influences my mood. It can be a vicious cycle if we let it.

This probably isn't a fun - or funny - post, but it is a true post. This is also not a "Woe is me!" post - I'm not looking for sympathy comments. So why am I writing it? Well, I guess I'm writing it because I think we all deserve to be loved for who we are - fat, skinny, jiggly, bony, lumpy, bumpy, pimply . . . even if we think the skinny jeans are too tight.

You are more than your reflection in the mirror. How about we let the mirror do its job - which, as I see it, is letting us know if we have strawberry seeds in our teeth or boogers hanging out of our noses - and we take care of finding our sense of self in something more valuable than how we look in really expensive skinny jeans? Sounds like a plan to me.




*Totally her real name.

So what does a calorie counter eat, anyway?

 Obviously, as a calorie counter my meal choices are extremely limited. 

Just kidding!

I know, I know, I said at the end of the last post that I would be discussing support systems. But I'm not. I'm pretty sure y'all are smart enough to keep up without getting hopelessly confused.

I'm going back to food (because I love it!). To recap, way back in 2010 my initial goal was to get healthier and feel physically better, but once I discovered calorie counting really worked and could help me lose weight, I jumped on the calorie counting bandwagon and, except for a brief, semi-disastrous attempt at Intuitive Eating that I might or might not discuss later, I've been a proud calorie counter ever since.

[Random tangent: Yes, I did say "proud" calorie counter. What I mean by that is, never be ashamed of whatever (healthy) tools you use in order to accomplish your goal. Counting calories isn't something that needs to be hidden or secret - it just is. It's a matter-of-fact process. Of course, I don't make announcements at dinner - "This pot pie has to be at least 650 calories a serving!" - and I don't wear a button advertising my calorie tracking software, but I'm not shy about looking at nutrition labels in front of friends and family, or asking restaurants for their nutrition info, or politely making special requests of my servers. There's absolutely no reason to be ashamed of taking control of your health. End tangent.]

More than one person has emailed or messaged me since I started writing this series, and one of the main questions I get is about what I eat on a day-to-day basis. I guess I sort of understand the curiosity, but I'm hesitant to answer that question because I'm pretty firm in my belief that one size definitely does NOT fit all. What works for me might not work for you. To be honest, what worked for me at the beginning of this process doesn't work for me now, two years later. I've had to constantly refine my eating and exercising and I'm pretty sure that I'll always be tweaking things and changing them up. But, rather than give you a meal-by-meal account of the things I eat (because that would be such scintillating Saturday morning reading!) I thought I'd give some general principles that seem to be true for me that I discovered along the way.

- All calories are NOT created equal:
This is sacrilege, blasphemy, and completely counter to what science says. Good thing I'm not so science-y.

Yes, yes, yes, a calorie is a calorie is a calorie. A slice of bakery bread might be around 120 calories, and a tablespoon of extra-virgin olive oil (kill me if I ever start referring to that as EVOO, ok?) is also 120 calories. If I eat one or the other, I've used up 120 calories of my allowance for the day.

BUT. I know, from experience and tracking and looking back at my food journal, that that tablespoon of olive oil, despite being smaller than the slice of bread, is going to make me feel much fuller over the long run. So if I decide to have chicken and veggies for dinner one night, I'm going to go with the oil drizzled over the top instead of the toasted bread on the side because I know that if I have the bread, chances are I'll be hungry before I go to bed. If I go with the oil, I won't be.

Fat and protein are your friends. They contribute to satiety - feeling full - and little amounts go a long way. I never set out to eat "low-carb" or "high protein" or any of the other low/high/trendy ways of eating, but over time I've learned that the biggest bang for my calorie buck is found when I eat fat and protein. Eggs, chicken, turkey, cheese, hummus, avocado, olive oil, fish . . . these are all staples for me.

What about carbs? Do you have to be afraid of them? Well, again, speaking just for myself, I've chosen to get almost all my carbs in the form of veggies, fruit, beans - unprocessed foods, basically - and the occasional whole wheat tortilla or bread. But that's now. At the beginning of my journey a good portion of my daily calories were "low cal" bread, 100 calorie cookie packs, baked chips. There's absolutely nothing wrong with these, but I like the way I feel better now, having mostly eliminated those.


- Fill up on veggies:
Vegetables (non-starchy ones, like broccoli, green beans, kale, spinach, eggplant, zucchini, celery, leeks, cabbage . . . you get the idea, basically anything that's not potato, corn, peas, or beans) are the calorie counter's best friends. They DO have calories - there are, I promise you, no "negative calorie" foods - but the calorie counts are so low that you can eat cups and cups of veggies for very few calories. Add veggies to everything, including microwave meals and canned soups. Experiment with new vegetables. Put more lettuce (or, better yet, spinach) on your sandwiches. Eat a side salad with dinner. Combine raw veggies with fat and protein - a cheese stick, for instance - for a filling snack. Eat more veggies!

- There's no "best" time to eat:
Three big meals? Six mini-meals? Two big meals, two snacks? Occasional fasting? Eat every three hours? Skip breakfast? No eating after 6? After 7? After midnight or you'll turn into a Gremlin?

Oh, gosh. Eat whenever you want to. If you get X number of calories per day, you can eat them all at once if you'd like to. Chances are you won't feel that great, but some people successfully do it this way. There is absolutely nothing magical about when you do or don't eat, and the whole "mini-meals to boost your metabolism" thing is bogus, no matter what the magazines in the checkout line at the grocery store say. I've experimented a lot with this, and I feel best when I get hungry - like, actually feel hunger pangs - and then eat a big meal. Eating small meals more often was harder on my schedule and also always left me feeling vaguely unsatisfied. Do whatever you like.

Speaking of being hungry . . .

- Hunger is not an emergency:
This is a hard one for most of us. It's possible, especially when we've been overweight for a long time, that we've never or only rarely experienced "real" hunger - usually, we have a snack before we've allowed ourselves to actually get hungry. True, physical hunger might be slightly different for most people, but usually involves stomach pangs and fun gurgling noises. :) If you've been eating a really high-carb diet (which is true for most people) a lot of times people think that headaches and shakiness are part of hunger - they are, but it's really more of a symptom of uneven blood sugar. If your blood sugar is even and ok, your stomach is the best indicator of hunger.

On the other hand, some books and experts will tell you that you should only ever eat in reaction to true, physical hunger. Um, I call balderdash. Whether or not I'm hungry on my birthday, I'm going to eat a slice of cake with some ice cream. On Thanksgiving, I'm going to have a second small scoop of my Daddy's cornbread dressing, because that's the only time I get to enjoy it. I think it's OK to eat for reasons other than hunger . . . sometimes.

Boredom is not a reason to eat. Watching TV is not a reason to eat. Attending a party, going to the movies, having an office celebration (birthday party, bridal/baby shower), church potluck . . . none of these are reasons you MUST eat. Some of us eat out of politeness: How many times have you been at work and a colleague brings in cookies she's made, and tells you, "Just try one, it won't hurt. I made them just for you!" It stinks (especially at first) but the more you get used to saying, "No, thank you. I really can't," firmly and without excuses or apologies, the more people will leave you alone after a while. No one is in charge of my body except for me, and if people really don't understand that, that's their problem.

- Trigger foods:
Now, I told you before that one of the reasons I decided to try calorie counting is because I was attracted by the idea that no foods were off limits. Chocolate, sugar, potato chips, pancakes . . . I can eat anything I want as long as I account for it. Yay!

Except, really, I can't. Many - most? - of us have some sort of "trigger food," which is the term used to talk about foods we have trouble eating in limited quantities. These are the foods that we can eat the whole bag of while watching TV. Or (and I've done this) we can carefully measure and portion out, putting the bag back in the pantry . . . then methodically eat the whole package this way over the course of an evening. For myself, I'm a sweets girl. Cookies, brownies, baked goods, candy - I love them all and have a great deal of trouble controlling myself around these once I get started.

There are different techniques for dealing with trigger foods, but the #1 most effective thing to do, once you've identified what they are for you, is to immediately stop buying them. Don't. Buy. The. Cookies. Just don't. Look at them longingly as you walk through the aisles (I've been known to gaze wistfully at the ice cream in the freezer section of my local Publix) but don't put them in your cart. If it's a true trigger food, 99.9% of the time it's going to end badly.

Now, some people have told me this doesn't work because they live with family members who have no trouble with Doritos. My argument to this is that Doritos are healthy for absolutely no one so there's zero "need" to buy them. But if your husband/wife/kids insist on having the Doritos in the house, ask them to put them somewhere where you can't find them - or at least somewhere where you don't see them every time you open the pantry. Play a mental game with yourself and convince yourself you can't eat that food because it's not yours, it's theirs. My roommate has had a package of Thin Mints in the freezer and a jar of Nutella in the cabinet the entire time I've lived here (what kind of superwoman is she?), and I've never been seriously tempted by them because it's her food, not mine. 

Do you need to forever eliminate trigger foods? Maybe, but that's probably not practical. When you really want to have whatever that food is, my suggestion is to buy a single serving when you're out of your house. Most grocery stores sell single slices of cake, or have a small bag of chips with your sandwich at lunch. But don't buy packages for your house.

Last, crazy suggestion (borne of experience). Say the package of cookies magically appeared in your house. Immediately put individual portions in small Ziplock bags and store them in the trunk of your car. Yes, you read that right. I have done this with those so-good-they're-evil Lofthouse iced sugar cookies (please see the beginning of this post regarding feeling no shame about doing what works for you). I ate one cookie a day for however many days. Good thing is was winter and not summer in Atlanta!

OK, that's enough babbling about food. I hope it helped those of you who had questions. No idea what my next post will be about . . . any suggestions or requests? I have thoughts but I don't want to bore anyone (except my sister, whom I am always happy to bore - now let's see if she's reading!).

Quitting: Just say no

Self-awareness brings some pretty unflattering realizations about yourself, like this one for me:

I am a quitter. If quitting is an available option, then I will - sooner or later - inevitably choose to quit. (This is where I'm really glad my blog has a readership the size of the electorate in Dixville Notch).

After I'd lost enough weight to make to my weight loss noticeable to others (which took freakin' FOREVER, by the way!) one of the first questions people would ask was, "So how'd you do it?" I, being a literal sort of person, would reply with a brief spiel about calorie counting and increased activity. About 75% of the time the response was a polite smile combined with a puzzled and somehow unsatisfied expression. It took me a long time to realize that, while I was answering the letter of the question, I wasn't answering the spirit of the question, which is this:

How do we keep from quitting?

We've all started self-improvement programs before.We know how to start. We don't know how to finish. We don't know how NOT to quit. (Mass generalization, I realize. Maybe, just maybe, I'm the only perennial quitter out there. But it's January 10th and the broken New Year's resolutions people are talking about make me think that's probably not true.) At some point, even while focusing on progress, not perfection and trying to keep things in balance and take baby steps, there comes a point (or rather, a series of points at varying times and intensities) where we all want to say, "Screw it. I'm done. I'm throwing in the towel because this is too hard and it doesn't really matter and I can't do it and I was stupid to try in the first place."

So where do we go from there? Joking aside, it can be a devastating place to be and we need to prepare for it and have a plan.

1. Recognize the lie.
Look at that last section from second-to-last paragraph. Can you spot all the lies in those statements? First of all, whatever you're attempting does matter. It mattered enough to you to start in first place, and it still matters now even if you can't see it at the moment. Secondly, it's hard, but not too hard, because you are stronger than you know. And finally, you might be stupid, but that's a problem for a different blog. :) Stupid has nothing to do with it. Don't quit.

2. You're already crazy. Talk to yourself and prove it.
I cannot stress enough the importance of self-talk. Stuart Smalley totally had the right idea. Find a mantra (you can call it a slogan if you prefer) and use it. Find something to repeat to yourself when times get tough, something that keeps you going. Affirm yourself when things go well. Celebrate small and large victories. Make sure the people around you are supportive and not negative. Which leads to . . .

3. Don't even try to do this alone. 
Sure, you could achieve something alone, but you don't get any extra points, so why make it any harder than it has to be? Find a support network and use it. These are people who share your struggles, hold you accountable, and provide a shoulder to cry on. If you've got a good support team, quitting becomes much less attractive.

4. Finally, quitting is NEVER an option.
The easiest way not to quit? Remove that option from the table entirely. While you're busy rolling your eyes and scoffing at me, think of all the things in your life you don't quit at every day. You haven't quit brushing your teeth a couple of times a day, right? You haven't quit showering or washing the dishes or taking out the trash (I don't think my blog readership includes any refugees from "Hoarders"). Parents, although you might have been tempted, I'm betting you haven't sent any of your children back to the stork. You don't feel you have a choice to quit in any of those situations, and you're right. Well, if the change you're attempting is really significant enough to you, you don't have a choice here, either. I don't accept your resignation, sorry.

You know what words I hate? Willpower and motivation. Whenever I hear these words or see them in print, I want to facepalm. The reason I don't like these words is because they imply a built-in excuse to quit. When we rely on our willpower or motivation, it becomes way too easy to one day say, "My willpower has run out," or "I have no motivation anymore." Tough. As the Nike ad says: Commitment is what comes after motivation has gone.*


The next post is going to revisit #3 from this list - finding a support community. Ooooh, sounds thrilling!




*I think that was Nike. Dear Nike, please don't sue me. No copyright infringement intended. If you didn't say it, please buy it from me for a large, undisclosed sum. Thanks!

Perfectionism is not your friend

 How could I pass up a Minesweeper reference? 

Imagine this scenario (I would tell you to close your eyes, but since my blog is a visual rather than auditory medium, that might not be the best idea): You have reached your goal, be it fitness, weight loss, a job you want, a degree you’re working on, or a relationship you’ve invested in. You see yourself running in a 5K race, happily choosing grilled chicken salad over a bacon double cheeseburger, or walking across the stage to accept your diploma. How do you feel as you imagine this? Now, how do you feel when you think about your reality?  

If you’re me, you feel a fleeting moment of elation (I can do anything I put my mind to!) followed by a gaping sense of despair (that’s never gonna happen – why should I even try?). 

It’s so hard to start when we’ve convinced ourselves that we’re going to fail. Or, sometimes worse yet, we start and we get all gung-ho with our plans: We obsess and turn our lives upside down with sudden, dramatic change that’s impossible to sustain long-term. So, when one day we have a bite of brownie (or, let’s be honest here, a PAN of brownies) we feel like it’s over and there’s no point in trying anymore. We end up face-first in the Ben & Jerry’s before we’ve even processed what’s happening. 

Here’s why I get corny. Deal. Sometimes things are cliché because they’re true. 

The real goal isn’t a number on the scale, or on the tag in your jeans, or your 5K pace, or your salary. Because I guarantee that, once you reach that arbitrary goal, chances are it won’t be low enough, fast enough, or high enough. There’s no such thing as perfect. 

So the real goal is progress, not perfection. You can’t run 5 miles? You can walk around the block once, and maybe next week you can go around twice. You’re having pizza for dinner? Great, don’t get the pan crust or the Meat Lover’s and blot the extra oil - the next time you order pizza, eat one fewer slice with a side salad. Jillian wants you to do 30 jumping jacks? Do 5 and then keep your arms and legs moving the rest of the time (and feel free to mutter curses to her under your breath). The next time you do the workout, do 6 jumping jacks, or do 5 at the beginning and 5 at the end. You have a stressful day and you end up having a burger, fries, and shake thinking that they will make you feel better? Eat them, be honest with yourself that they didn’t really solve any problems, wake up the next morning and move on (that doesn’t mean eating only lettuce that day, either – that’s more all-or-nothing thinking). 

I really hope this doesn’t come off as patronizing. I absolutely believe this: making baby steps isn’t being lazy, it’s being smart. It’s allowing yourself time to adjust to change and being kind to yourself. 

The trick, of course, is remembering that there’s a balance. Being kind to yourself sometimes means allowing yourself the cheeseburger, but more often it means acknowledging that NOT eating the cheeseburger is actually a better choice. Wah wah - sorry to be a Debbie Downer there for a second. :)

Thanks for reading! Now go watch some football!

How not to lose your soul to the scale

I may really dislike math – apologies to my math teacher friend Shoshannah – but I can’t imagine living in a world where we couldn’t quantify things. I budget my paycheck, I estimate how long a trip will take at certain rate of speed, I give grades to students, and I try to figure out how many packages of each I have to buy when hot dogs come 12 to a pack and buns come 8 to a pack (biggest manufacturer conspiracy ever!). When numbers rules our lives and we start eating better and exercising, is it any wonder that we quickly become obsessed with that instrument of torture: the bathroom scale?

I was no exception. I’ve mentioned before that I started exercising in an effort to get healthier and my starting weight was just a guesstimate. But when I started calorie counting a couple of months later, my online tracking program wanted me to input my weight in order to come up with a daily calorie level for me. 

[Side note – For those considering calorie counting, this isn’t really necessary or even the best way to do it. Looking back, I wish I’d tracked my calories for 2-3 weeks without changing my intake then just subtracted 300-500 calories a day from that. Calorie need/expenditure calculators are pretty notoriously inaccurate and I still would have seen progress without having such a drastic, sudden drop in calories.] 

So I trudged to Wal-Mart and bought a scale. I didn’t even know where the scales were located (near home improvement, which is odd to say the least as the phrase “big as a house” is hyperbole in all situations) and bought a middle-of-the-road model. I still have it: digital, measuring to the nearest 2/10ths of a pound, and cheap. My kind of purchase.

My initial weight from the scale is recorded, of course, but I’m sure I was heavier by 10-15 pounds when I first started. In any case, it’s not actual numbers I want to talk about, it’s my reaction to those numbers.

See, for people who are trying to lose weight, the scale can develop real power if you’re not super careful. It becomes both our reward and our punishment. A “good” reading on the scale evokes feelings of happiness, satisfaction, and often a little boost of motivation (“I must be doing something right, I’d better keep it up!”). A “bad” reading on the scale – not even necessarily a gain, FYI, sometimes just not as big of a loss as you’d hoped for – and a shame spiral begins the likes of which Cher Horowitz would be proud of (“Why am I even trying? I’m never going to lose weight. An Oatmeal Cream Pie sure would make me feel better right about now.”).

Right away dieters face crucial scale-related decisions: How often to weigh? When to weigh? When to record the weight? What’s a good rate of loss? Some of you will be nodding right now because you totally get it and some of you will think I need a shrink. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. :)

My system ended up being a daily weigh-in with the weight only actually being recorded once a week, on Mondays. I didn’t plan it that way, but this method of weighing myself was helpful on two fronts: First, the daily weighing taught me that, even when I was 100% consistent, my weight could fluctuate quite a bit from day to day, depending on sodium, my workouts (a lot of people retain water from strength training), the phases of the moon, the color of the sky over Rio . . . maybe nothing at all. Secondly, the Monday weigh-in was really key on weekends when I was tempted to overeat – no way was I risking a higher number on the scale the next day just because it was Sunday and thought I deserved to take the day off. Uh-uh.

It all sounds so logical and reasonable, doesn’t it? Not exactly. Scale obsession is a real thing. I’m so grateful for some weight loss buddies who, early on, introduced me to the concept of the “NSV” – Non Scale Victory. Things like smaller clothing sizes, sure, but also things like walking up stairs without getting winded, seeing your wrist and collarbones for the first time, or turning down dessert because you realize you don’t really want it (still working on this one!).

Basically, here's the deal. Our self-worth should never come from 3 numbers on a LED screen, right? As powerful as that number may feel, you and I are worth much more that. It's a lesson I had to learn along the way, and still sometimes find myself forgetting, so that's a reminder for both of us.

So that's a little bit about the scale. Next post up will (I think – still working on it) be about being an all-or-nothing thinker. Thanks for reading!

My only use for math since I graduated high school (Just kidding! Er, mostly.)

 Word.

We’ve established that diets and I go way back, right? And how, when I started exercising in 2010 it was definitely about health and fitness and not really about weight loss?

By April 2010 I had been regularly exercising for a few months and was starting to feel good. I wasn’t winning any triathlons or anything, but I was able to keep up a steady quick pace on my park walks and Jillian’s directives to do pushups no longer filled me with terror. Again, I didn’t even own a scale at that point, but my clothes were starting to get a littler looser (“loose,” “not cutting off circulation,” same thing) and in the back of my head that little voice was starting to pipe up: What if I lost weight? What if I got thin?

This time there was a competing voice that tempered me somewhat. This voice wasn’t negative, it was pragmatic. It reminded me that life was long and I had time to go slowly. It reviewed all my previous diets and weight loss attempts and came up with things that worked and things that didn’t. This little voice also pointed out that, as much as I’d tried this and that over the years, I’d never really given plain old calorie counting a try.

Calorie counting is, in theory, simple (I say “in theory” because I feel like I now have an advanced degree in calorie counting, and could go on at length on about it. I don’t want you to drool on your keyboard, so I won’t). You track what you eat and try to create a calorie deficit, eating fewer calories than your body needs to sustain its activity level. In turn your body is forced to “burn” stored energy for fuel and that creates weight loss. With me so far? Now, to this day, I have no idea why I never tried it before. Because it seemed old fashioned and lacked glamour? Because I didn’t perceive it as easy? Because I didn’t really get it? In any case, I was ready to try it now. It had two big advantages: it was free (yay!) and no foods were off limits as long I as tracked them.

There are tons of free calorie counting websites out there, and I don’t remember how I ended up using the one that I did, but I signed up at Livestrong and started using it. At first, I ate pretty much the way I usually did – no dramatic changes – and started observing what left me hungry and what didn’t. Which foods were worth the calorie splurge and which ones weren’t.  I started realizing that I could eat a heckuva lot of vegetables for relatively few calories, and that eggs in the morning filled me up forever while my Eggo Nutri-grain waffles – even though they didn’t have a lot of calories – made me hungry a couple of hours later.

The weirdest thing about all of this? It was fun. I know I’m strange in many ways, but trust me when I say that calorie counting is fun for me in the same way that puzzles, or Sudoku, or crosswords are fun for others. It’s interesting to look at my calorie budget for the day and figure out how I’m going to spend it.

I started counting calories April 21, 2010 and have never looked back.

Next up: Learning to use the scale as A tool, not THE tool.

From sedentary to strong

I love my country, but you have to admit this is funny because it's true.

I’m not breaking new ground here when I point out that American lifestyles are crazy-sedentary. In fact, that sentence might just get me nominated for Captain Obvious 2012 (remember me come awards season!). For real, we sit at home and we sit at work and we sit in our cars and then, at night, we switch it up by lying in bed, just for a change of pace. 

My job – teaching on a university campus – is a bit more active than a regular office job, because at least I walk to classroom buildings and stand throughout the day. But when I decided to start becoming more active, I knew that that wasn't enough, so I started doing two things: I walked twice a week at a local park and I began a love/hate relationship with Jillian Michaels’ workout DVDs that persists to this day. 

My teaching schedule back then was a bit wonky. Every Tuesday and Thursday I would finish up at one school around 2:30, then drive 45 minutes to another part of town and wait for my 7:30 evening class to start at another school. (If you think it would make more sense to go home in between classes, you have clearly never lived in Atlanta.) I'd been doing this schedule for a while and my routine was to bring my laptop, head to Starbucks, and get work done (by "work" I am referring to Facebook). I knew that there was park near my evening school - I'd once used it as a meeting spot for a friend who was passing through town - so one Tuesday afternoon I packed up my laptop, my textbooks, and my tennis shoes. 

To say I was “out of shape” would be an understatement. The beautifully shaded trail around the park was 3 miles but it felt like it might as well have been 30. I started with 1.5 mile loop and walked it rather slowly – a mosey, a ramble, a stroll. It was boring. I got passed by little kids and grandfathers and SAHMs sprinting by with jogging strollers. I'd always heard that people enjoyed walking because they could process and be still and ponder life's problems. I decided I'd rather listen to Ira Glass and started clearing out my podcast backlog. One day, after I'd been walking for 3 or 4 weeks, I got ambitious and tried interspersing some jogging intervals. After 30 panting seconds I started to wonder if an ambulance could make it to the back of the park where I was, so I backed off on those, but I kept walking. I walked and walked and walked and walked. Some days I dreaded it, some days I looked forward to it, but every Tuesday and Thursday I did it.

I had been walking for about two months when, one day, my walk was rained out. I was ticked. Angry at the indignity - how dare Mother Nature force me to be cooped up in a Starbicks for 3 full hours! That's when I knew something inside had clicked and, although there was still a sense that I was exercising because I should, I also realized it was something I enjoyed. Sure, not on the same level as I enjoyed season 2 of Project Runway, but it was enjoyment nonetheless.

So walking was one thing I did - later, as I learned more about fitness, I would realize that my walking was about stamina and endurance. The DVDs, on the other hand, were about intensity. 

Let's be clear. Jillian Michaels' DVDs kicked my butt (literally, in fact – Jillian has one cardio move called “butt kicks” where you run in place and try to kick your own butt. She’s nutso, that Jill). I knew they were supposed to be tough, yes, but bought the 30 Day Shred DVD for one simple reason – it promised a 20 minute workout. Twenty minutes?!?! I can survive anything for 20 minutes. I was slightly bitter when I put the DVD in the first time and the counter said the workout was actually 27 minutes long. Liar. I tried it anyway. 

Oh. My. Word. This was almost 2 years ago and I still have vivid memories of almost passing out during the warmup. She wanted me to do jumping jacks. For a warmup? Are you smoking something, Jill? 

Jill was not, alas, smoking anything. She expected me to do jumping jacks, so jumping jacks I did. I didn't do a lot at first. I modified, I rested, I looked at her on the screen and yelled (well, thought about yelling. I didn't have the breath for anything over a gasping grunt). Slowly - really, really slowly - my heart didn't pound out of my chest after the first interval of cardio. Strength moves that I started off by only using body weight moved into using 2, then 3 pound hand weights. Eventually, I had to break down and get 5 pound weights for some moves and I felt strong.

From the beginning (er, pretty close to the beginning) I wrote down my exercise for the day on an "Animals of Africa" wall calendar that I'd gotten off the freebie table at work. I didn't know it when I started, but some days the only thing that kept me going was knowing that, once the dumb workout was finished, I could write something in that day's square. It wasn't much, but it was an accomplishment. Looking back on that calendar now I love seeing how many little squares are filled. Each day represents a day that I did something intentional, something under my control to feel better.

It didn't happen overnight. That's the hardest part, really, in making a decision like this and sticking with it: What I talk about above took, in some cases, over a year and some things I'll always be working on. There's occasionally a frustration in knowing that reward for getting more fit is that you start to have to make stuff harder. Jumping jacks are absolutely no big deal for me now but mountain climbers in plank position are of the devil. I can deadlift quite a bit of weight but my upper body is still ridiculously weak. Eh, that's OK. Part of the challenge.

So that's a little bit about how my exercise plan got started. Notice I haven't talked about food once? That's because, at this point, I still wasn't thinking about it. My next post will be all about the magic diet I went on that allowed me to lose 10 pounds a week without even trying!*




*This is a lie. But maybe you'll come back to read anyway?