Munchies and musings...

Happy July 4th, y'all! I hope you're having a happy day. It's been pretty quiet and relaxing around these parts so far. Although, my dog freaked out a little when the fireworks began tonight. He doesn't do well with loud booming noises like fireworks or thunder. Although, he calmed down much quicker with the fireworks then he normally does when it storms.

My mom and I spent the morning fixing a feast for the holiday: grilled one point hot dogs/buns, potato salad, corn on the cob, deviled eggs, macaroni and cheese, no bake cookies and point-friendly banana splits. It was fun cooking with my mom but I think I drove her nuts hovering around her, with my Weight Watcher point slide rule in hand, trying to figure out how many points each dish was going to be. Our biggest issue was the low-fat mayo. I measured out what I considered to be a reasonable amount of mayo for the potato salad but she kept insisting on more. I finally had to beg her to put the low-fat mayo away! After all, how much mayo do you need for potato salad anyway? Evidently, according to my mom, ours needed at least ten tablespoons. She probably would have added more but I told her I wouldn't eat any if she put any more mayo in it. With potato salad and mac/cheese on the menu, I had planned to eat a good breakfast and then a hearty dinner/lunch. I intended to use every single one of my daily points and, perhaps, most of my 35 extra weekly points. Surprisingly though, I used all my dailies and only ten of my weekly extra points. Today's feasting wasn't as big a splurge as I had anticipated and I (totally) watched my portion sizes. Way to go, Edie! (pats self on the back...)

Today's weigh-in was pretty good. After being stagnant for about a month, it was nice to see the scale move (3.7 pounds down). For some reason, the past month has been hard diet-wise. I've been self-sabotaging myself, just a little. It's taken about two weeks to get back on the program but I'm back with my former resolve. It's funny how quickly those old habits return. I've been spending a few days re-grouping.

Due to finances, I'm having to rethink my meal plans and shopping habits. It, definitely, is harder to diet when finances are limited but I'm going to make the big effort. I'm sure I'll tell you all how it goes.

I hope you're having a happy Fourth!

In one of my favorite books, "Living a Beautiful Life", the author talks about putting a splash of color in the bottom of her closet. She said it lifted her spirits every time she opened the closet. I didn't really get it at the time. How could seeing a little color really affect your mood? But, this past weekend, I finally understood what the author was talking about.

I was out shopping with my daughter on Saturday and I found a basic black purse that I really liked. It was slouchy and HUGE. But, for me, the best part of the bag is the inside lining -- black and white animal print. It makes me happy just to open my purse.

I think that I'm kind of like that basic black bag. To most people, I appear to be pretty quiet and reserved on the outside. Just a simple, non-descript person. But, for the people I allow into my little world, those people get a glimpse of my shiny (and some might say, quirky) interior. I guess it's really that whole "don't judge a book..." thing.

Recently, my friend, Suzanne, asked for weight loss progress pictures. I really can't stand to have my picture taken but thought I would oblige her request. I was a little hard-pressed finding a "before" picture because I loathe getting my picture taken. All of the pictures I do have consist of me strategically arranging myself or the camera angle so that you can't really see how fat I am.

Here's one of me at the end of February 2009. See how I'm trying to disguise my double chin by leaning on my hands.


This next picture is me now. It was taken on Saturday morning. I deliberately took a picture that wasn't staged. I wish I could say that the glasses are temporary but, no, the weather here in Virginia isn't co-operating with my contacts so I'm having to wear my old glasses. My new glasses will be ready sometime this week.
I'd like lots of blog love please. You know, comments like: "Your brother was wrong, your head isn't grotesquely small". "Don't worry, those glasses aren't too hideous". And, so on. (heehee)

Well, that's it for now. I hope you all are having a great week.

Sorry for the long stretch between posts but, honestly, I've had nothing to say. I'm pretty much over obsessing about my weight. I've been dealing with some other personal issues but none of those issues are really blog-worthy.

When I first started my weight loss program, I heard the singer, Mandisa, being interviewed on a radio program. She said that she titled her new cd, "Freedom" because she felt like God was setting her free from her weight issue. I totally understood what she was saying because I, too, felt like God was setting me free. I knew that I couldn't lose the weight on my own so I turned it over to God. With His help, it seemed like I was finally beating the battle of the bulge.

At first, I was losing considerable weight each week but that stopped. Then I was losing inches but that stopped. I was still on plan and I upped my exercise but those efforts weren't showing on the scale or when I measured. It was totally frustrating and made me spend a lot of time asking God what was going on. I really didn't understand why He would have me on this journey, just to stop all the positive results.

In the past, I probably would have abandoned my efforts to lose weight because why do it if you don't see results. Right? Except, this time, I've really been focusing on what's causing me to overeat. I realized the other day that even though my weight is coming off much more slowly now, I'm still getting free of this issue. I'm dealing with the issues that cause me to overeat -instead of turning to food when things get sad or tough, I'm working through those emotions. It feels good.

I also realized that I like the way I feel now. I do feel stronger -- emotionally and physically. Something clicked the other day inside me and I was overcome with this feeling that I really want to be fit. I want to be able to walk up the stairs without wanting to heave when I hit the top stair. I want to be able to sit on the floor and be able to get up without assistance. That's more important to me then how much I weigh. So, I've been pushing myself to do things I normally wouldn't have done.

On Thursday, I started to cut our grass. We have about 3/4 of an acre. I got about a third of the front yard done when I ran out of gas. Early Sunday, I ran to get gas so I could finish the yard. Before everyone was up, I attempted to cut the rest of the front yard. The grass was slightly damp and, because the grass was so high, the lawn mower kept shutting off. It took me about an hour to finish the rest of the front yard. I came in, rested for an hour and then started on the back yard.

Same issues as the front -- the mower kept dying. I spent another hour cutting the grass and then rested for an hour. By the third hour, I was so tired I could barely push the mower. At first, I had this little mantra going: "I can do this. I can do this". But, the mower kept dying and I realized that I couldn't do it. I had to rethink my mantra to: "All things are possible through Christ Jesus". I got almost all the rest of the backyard mowed, except for one big patch. I took a lunch break.

After lunch, despite urgings from my mom and daughter that I just leave it, I finished up the backyard. I'm pretty sure my neighbors were wondering why it took me four, yes four, hours to mow the grass. I was so exhausted by the time I was finished but I was pretty proud of myself. I pushed myself beyond what I thought I was capable of. It was hard but I did it.

So, even if the scale doesn't budge much, I'm okay with that. As long as I know that I'm doing my part, I figure that, at some point, it'll all work itself out.

Yesterday, driving to pick up my daughter after work, all I could think about was getting a donut. Her workplace is not far from a Dunkin' Donuts and I have seriously been craving a cream-filled donut. It's been about two years since I've had a cream-filled donut from Dunkin' Donuts. I decided to forgo dinner and use my remaining points on a donut.

I called ahead to make sure they had the donuts in stock because that style of donuts is very popular in this area. They did. All the way there, I was thinking: vanilla cream or chocolate cream. I went with the chocolate cream. I bought two donuts: one to eat and one to save for breakfast today.

I couldn't wait for that first bite. Ugh...what a disappointment. The cream was good but the donut was drier then I remembered and it tasted so "processed". I took another bite. I really wasn't enjoying the donut so I put it back in the bag. A few minutes later, I took another bite or two. Yuck! It definitely wasn't worth wasting the points. Back into the bag. I ended up only eating about 2/3 of the donut before throwing it away. My mom and daughter both declined the offer of the other donut so I threw that one away too. I know it's wasteful but, in a lot of ways, it's a big victory for me. Instead of eating something I wasn't enjoying, I made a conscious effort to think about what I was doing. I'm learning to make wiser food decisions.

I'm learning to eat deliberately, to be in control of what goes into my body. That feels really good. My whole goal in starting this diet to begin with was to change my approach to food. Realistically, I'm not going to go through life without wanting a cookie or a little sweet tea so I'm trying to teach myself moderation and portion control. It's a slow process but I think I'm on the right track.

Oh, and the scale was a bit nicer on Saturday -- down .8. I'll take it.

About a month ago, I was walking with my daughter and I caught a look at my shadow on the road. I was a little shocked at the sight because my shoulders looked so small. At first, I was alarmed but then I remembered that when I lose weight, my body goes through a little metamorphosis. I always feel a little like the wicked witch in the "Wizard of Oz" when the weight starts coming off because it's like I'm melting. First, my head gets smaller, then my shoulders, then my chest, then the rest of me. I figured the weight loss process had started. For me, that's just how my body works. What can I say? I'm a freak of nature (lol).

I didn't think about it again until about two weeks ago when I was walking home from work. My brother and his wife drove past me. They stopped and asked if I wanted a ride. I declined. They drove on but circled back to tell me they were proud of my efforts. During our little conversation on the side of the road, my sister-in-law mentioned that my head had gotten so small. For some reason, I must have filtered that comment because I didn't really think about it again until my brother mentioned it when I saw him later that week. About a week ago, he stopped by to see my mom and he mentioned my head again. And then he said, "pretty soon, your head will be too small for your body".

YIKES! To say that to a normal person would be bad enough, but to say that to someone with a slightly skewed self image, well, it's the kiss of death. Immediately, I got a mental picture that I looked like this:

Okay, well, art really isn't my forte but you get the idea.

Despite multiple assurances from my daughter that I did not have a grotesquely small head, I still envisioned that I looked a little like a monster in one of those Sci-Fi flicks. It was all I could to do to shake that image and keep on dieting/exercising.

You'd never know it to look at me but I'm a fierce competitor. My family and friends avoid playing games with me because I'm intensely serious about winning. In fact, when my daughter was younger, she opted out of playing kids' games with me because I was so intense. I was in it to win it, no matter what the game. Chutes and Ladders. N*Sync board game. I had to win.

That competitor side of my personality is in direct conflict to the kind, sweet, loving person that I am in "real" life (please read that last part sarcastically). I also should note that this competitive nature only applies to board games, card games, video games, billiards, darts and other forms of family entertainment. When it comes to actual, physical competition, I totally shy away from competing. I think it dates back to being picked last for dodge ball in middle school or volley ball in high school.

**Disclaimer: the story you are about to read may have been slightly exaggerated because the person writing it tends to lean a little toward the dramatic side and it's been 30+ years, people, the memory is a bit fuzzy (lol)**

In high school, I had this old, strict gym teacher. She was totally into fitness and didn't understand why I was not. Although, when I think about it, she seemed ancient at the time but she was probably around 30. No matter, she was still mean. To top it off, almost all the girls in my freshman gym class were members of the girl's volleyball and/or basketball teams. I say almost because there were two of us who were not really athletic. Me, and the girl who stood behind me in our gym line-up, Lynda. We were the athletic rejects of the class and our teacher usually put us on opposite teams to even out the point handicap (at least, that's how I choose to remember it). To make matters worse, our gym teacher seemed to lump our last names together whenever she called either one of us. She had a thick Southern drawl and it used to irritate me to no end. She called everyone else by their first names, but not me and Lynda. It was always "Steaks and Tucker, Steaks and Tucker" (names changed slightly to protect the innocent). It was like we were our gym class comedy team, except phys ed was no joke.

Sophomore gym class was slightly better despite being co-ed, which is horrifying in itself, because I had a male teacher. I learned early on in the semester that if you told him you had female issues, he let you sit out the class. I, pretty much, had womanly issues two or three times a week until he took me aside and asked if I needed to see a doctor. I know it was wrong. Sue me. I was fifteen. I had to have some kind of vice and it's better then smoking in the bathroom.

My whole point in making you endure that long, long story about my lack of athletic prowess is because, for the past few days, I've been on a serious eating binge. I finally traced it back to the fact that I've signed up for a summer weight loss challenge. This morning, I got back on track by giving my self a little reminder that the only person I'm competing with is myself. I am the tortoise, not the hare. Slow and steady wins the race.

I think my little self-validation worked because I totally stayed on plan today. Whew! Way to go, Edie! I'm mentally ready to begin my challenge, and if I win the Hungry Monster magnet and cookbook by losing the most inches, all the better. I can dream, can't I?

Yesterday's weigh-in was disappointing. The scale showed me 1.4 pounds heavier than last week. I'm not exactly sure how that happened because I stayed on plan for the most part. I was 7 points over for the week (about 350 calories) but I don't think that merits a 1.4 gain. Plus, I did exercise throughout the week so I'm sure I burned at least 350 calories. Either way, I'm not happy with the gain.

I tried not to let it bother me but, by mid-day, I was in full meltdown mode. I think it was a combination of juggling finances and the weight gain that pushed me to that point. I needed a break. I decided to take a day off of dieting.

With cheating in mind, I went to Dunkin' Donuts twice for a little treat. Both times, they were out of the only kind of donuts that I like. I left empty-handed both times. Did I mention that I had to drive 25 minutes (each way x 4) just to find a Dunkin' Donuts? Waste of gas and time since I came away empty-handed.

Since donuts were not an option, my daughter and I went to Dairy Queen for a cherry-dipped chocolate cone. They didn't have cherry dip. Again, we left empty-handed.

Co-incidence? I think not. I think a higher power (God) had a hand in keeping me from totally self-destructing.

For dinner, we ended up going to a new Hawaiian BBQ place. Before we went, even though I had planned to cheat, I searched for weight watcher points for some of the menu items. Most of the plate options clocked in at about 33 points. Yikes! My daughter and I both ordered the BBQ sampler platter (6 small squares of grilled beef, 2 long strips of ribs and 2 big pieces of chicken, grilled cabbage, 2 scoops rice and a scoop of macaroni salad). The plate was ginormous and I had every intention of eating everything. Unfortunately, though, my stomach had other plans. After all these weeks of dieting, my stomach must have shrunk because I could barely finish even a third of the plate before I was full. As evidence, here's my takeout container (except, the veggies were my daughter's because she doesn't like cooked cabbage - I did eat all my cabbage):