Day 28 (Down for the Count)

Ugh. Grr. Sigh.

Yes, I'm moaning. Yes, I'm whining. Yes, I'm being a pathetic little baby.

But I'm sick. =(

First, Coop was sick. Then Chris got it. And, yes, now on the eve of my third day on the job, my throat feels like it's made of razor blades and my chest vacilates between millions of pin pricks and the firey flames of hell.

Crap.

So what does this mean for my diet??? Um, doesn't it say in the mommy handbook circa 1953 that you should stuff a cold to the gills? I'm pretty sure that it does. On page 27, paragraph 3, just after the section on "Times When Justification is OK."

Anywhoo, to play catch-up, Saturday night I celebrated the final turn of my 20s with a girls' night. Which, inevitably, led to a girls' day (think crawling into bed at 5:30 Sunday morning. Oops.)

I actually did pretty well on not chowing down (hello, that would be a total buzz kill) and the chicas and I danced our fannies off. So, I'm sure had I not given into the insatiable hangover munchies at Cheesecake Factory on Sunday afternoon (my actual b-day), I would have done fan-friggin'-tastic.


But I did. So I didn't. Whatev.

Yesterday was my first day at the new job and I'm still trying to figure out how this whole workout thing is going to fit into my schedule now that words like commute, traffic and exhaustion are again in my vocabulary.

But, I think I'll wait until the flames in my chest fizzle to mere embers before giving it serious thought. Otherwise I'll just get seriously bummed about my obvious lack of progress.

Dosen't it just suck monkeys when life interferes with your plans???

Anywhoo, on a sidenote, I was so excited when I donned my newly purchased outfit for girls' night, but my self-esteem bubble burst when I saw the pics (click on the Pardon Our Poo link at right for the photographic goods, post "Ladies' Night"). Ummm, eeewww!

First of all, if you EVER want to feel like you look good, do not and I REPEAT do not go out with two of your most tiny-waisted, big-boobed gal pals who happen to also dress incredibly well! That's just a prozac moment waiting to happen. Second, if you break rule one, don't do it on YOUR birthday. Third, if you break rules one and two, avoid all mirrors and ban all cameras from the evening's festivities. At least this way, in your head, you'll still look amazing and no reflective surface or paparrazzi-style pic can prove otherwise!



Look who's arse is as big as the friggin' piano! Oh, well, at least I'm a "work in progress." Just s-l-o-w progress.



Hey, boozy, put your chicken wings down. Nobody, and I mean nobody , needs to see that!

Day 24-27 (M.I.A.)

I have been M.I.A. in the bolosphere for the past few days, but between my stressing about my mom's most recent surgery, my 29th birthday blowout (rolled in at 5:30 in the AM!!!!!) and starting my new jobby job today, I've been a bit distracted.

Hope to carve out some quality time tomorrow to play catch up.

Day 23 (Pushing through the Panic)

Last night I had a major freak out ... full-on food addiction. I was jonesing. Big time. For a burger, or anything else within the immediate vicinity of my mouth.

But, like any good, supportive wife, I saccrificed my husband in exchange for renewed strength. (Yay me! Lol.)

The hubby had had a tough day at work and when I asked if he was kidding when he suggested a run to Jack in the Box for dinner, the "don't screw with me" stare I got back confirmed it.

The man was serious. Dead serious.

Instead of resisting and being strong for him ... reminding him that food was not the answer, I hightailed it to the drive-thru. I knew that if I could ride in a car with a bag full of fried yumminess and not touch it, then I would be back in the saddle so to speak.

So, that's what I did. I let my husband fall so that I could rise. I got home, handed him the goods, grabbed my ginormous diet coke and headed to the gym. It was 7:30 and my lazy ass was sweating it out.

I was/am ridiculously proud. And, just to boost my ego a bit, I stepped on the scales this AM.

Down 2 lbs. Now at 218. Who-hoo!

Water weight loss? YES! Still feels damn good? Hell yes!

Note to the hubby: I'm back on track and taking you with me. (well, until my birthday this weekend, lol! Now there's a whole new challenge.)

Day 22 (Weigh Day #3)

I stepped on the scales this morning with complete and utter trepidation. Would the past few days of indulgence catpult me back to where I was (or worse)? Would I some how have managed to magically, mystically shed a few?

Nope. And nope.

I stayed exactly the same (220), which, considering the slip slidding I've been doing, is a huge achievement. So, with what I consider a semi-state of excitement, I say, "who-hoo."

However, now at 6:30ish in the evening the excitement has diminished.

Since I woke this AM, my energy level has been completely MIA, and my hunger off the charts. I don't know what's going on, but I feel powerless to control it. I have been able to push through the lethargy with an infusion of power "nesting," which also helped to distract me from the raging growl in my stomach (and my head, grr).

But now I'm caving. And caving fast.

Do I give into temptation and silence the insatiable hunger? Or do I continue to push through, knowing that doing so will help to get me back in the zone? Back on track? Back where I need to be?

My motivation and willpower seem to have vanished overnight, along with my self-esteem.

Uggh. Fatness sucks monkeys.

Day 17-21 (baaaaaad mama)

Talk about backsliding into the abyss! That's me! All 220 lbs of me. Back, back, allllll the way back.

I could sit here and rationalize until the cows come home about why I ate my way through the end of last week and on into yesterday (emotional eating because of all the stuff with my mom, early birthday celebrations, because it was Monday, yadda yadda), but that never does anyone any good. The point is that I shortchanged myself and now I'm paying the price: physically and emotionally.

Emotionally I feel like a total weiner. And physically?? UUGGHH! All of the excess has caught up with me and let's just say that everything that went in is now coming out ... and with a fast, unending fury. (Thank you, God, for the crampy, doubled-over reminder that gluttony is pure evil, lol!)

I'm counting down the minutes until the hubby comes home and can tackle daddy duty so I can get to the workout "closet" (it's 30ish outside so there was no way Coop and I could hit the trails). I did run to Target earlier to get a workout DVD, but by the time I put it in, Coop was screaming and the overly perky video instructor with the bouncy boobs was just pissing me off with all of her bottle-tanned and toned energy, lol.

Weigh day tomorrow is gonna' suck monkeys. But, I did this and now I will have to undo it.

Day 16 (Fighting Back)

Ugghh. I'm sure we can all agree that the scale is the devil. And, after yesterday's disappointing weigh-in I was almost -ALMOST - ready to surrender my soul. But, two things happened that made me rethink the whole signing on the dotted line thing: a comment and a great workout.

The sister of a high school classmate left me an encouraging message on my post yesterday and it was just the out-of-the-blue boost I needed. Um, hello, wasn't that why I started this online torture test in the first place? So that I would be accountable to everyone??? (YAY! Courtney! Thanks for reminding me that people are reading/watching/commiserating!!)

Also, I teamed up with a dear friend for a serious sweat session at the gym. (I got a day pass so I could join her at a REAL workout facility ... the women's changing room is bigger than the entire workout space at the apartment.) Stac recently joined me in the whole "let's not live like this anymore" mentality, but her workout regime is, well, waaaaay tougher than mine has been. We hopped on the treadmill for what I assumed would be an amped 25 minutes when she dropped the bomb: "I do an hour of cardio."

Umm, what tha ....????

AN HOUR???

I think my brilliant, breathing-challenged response was, "huh."

Then I decided, what the hell. If I die during the next hour, as least I went out trying.

Because Stac had to hit the 3 o' clock carpool, we couldn't do the full hour, but we did (yes, me included! who-hoo!) powered through 20 minutes on the treadmill, 10 on the elliptical and 15 on the bike.

And I lived to tell about it. Nice.

Eat that, devil scales.

Day 15 (Weigh Day #2)

Grrr. Poo. Piss. And all the other explitives known to man that are running through my head! I've worked my toosh off this past week and what do I have to show for it? Nada! Nothing! Zilch! Not only did the scale not scale down any, it went up one freaking pound.

Um, hello, that's the WRONG direction.

It's day 15 and I am sitting - sadly - at 220 lbs. Sigh.

Not sure where things went amiss ... surely one indulgent dinner 6 days ago wouldn't corrupt an entire week's worth of work??!!

Double sigh.

p.s. Boys suck monkeys when it comes to dieting! The hubby has worked out one time - ONE TIME - and has lost 17 lbs. In my next life I am sooooo gonna' be a boy.

Day 13/14 (Walk & Roll)

Now that my two-week break between being laid off and starting my new job is in full force, I am once again a full-time mommy - haven't been with Coop this much since my maternity leave 6 months ago ... not sure it's such a good thing, lol!

Yesterday I quickly realized that if I wanted to keep my workout routine hot and heavy, I was going to have to rethink the gym situation ... the cramped confines of our apartment workout room does not a great daycare make. Soooo, I thought I'd give the neighborhood park a go.

All I can say is ... niiiiiice! The place Coop and I ventured to is more nature preserve than swings and slides (though is does have those, too). Think little red riding hood walking through the forest with a buggie in place of a basket. That's sooo how I felt tromping through the trees (ok, concrete path, but the trees were everywhere).

At first I was hesitant about taking my little man for a nature walk, though I grew up in the sticks for most of my youth, I am NOT an outdoorsy gal. And, anything that goes bump in the night (or in this case, the day) creeps me out. About 2.5 minutes in, I heard rustling just off the path and saw bushes shaking wildly. I just knew some vicious little creature was about to emerge and eat my baby for an appetizer and me for the main course! I was ready to head back to "civilization" when I saw the cutest little older couple walking my way. They were holding hands and smiling and I thought, "Toughen up weiner, they survived, you will, too!" (did I also mention I tend toward the more dramatic side of life??).

I exchanged "Hello's" with the couple as they passed, then I gripped the handle of Coop's stroller and proceeded to pick up the pace. Though the temp was a breezy 60-something, I was sweating like a gal in heat (and breathing like one, too)! It felt amazing.

Before I knew it, 45 minutes had passed. Who-hoo! New workout record. Bonus? Coop slept the entire time, what a trooper!

We repeated the entire adventure this afternoon, only we powered on for an extra 20 minutes. YAY!

I sure hope my efforts show up on weigh day (tommorrow!).

Day 10/11/12 (Celebrating)

I did it. On Friday night I committed my cardinal diet sin! I turned away from the "food is fuel" chant and embraced "food is entertainment." But, in my defense (yes, here comes every dieter's justification), I had a major reason to indulge in all things italian (bread sticks, alfredo sauce, lasagna ...).

I. got. a. job!

Well, a job offer anyway. The HR chica still has to run a background check (sure hope that stint in the state pen doesn't pop up, lol) and call my references, but I feel pretty confident that everything will be a OK.

The clock has been ticking since my former employer (a large computer retailer) announced that as of February, we would all be out of a job. And, after several weeks of resume primping/applying/interviewing, I feel like I can finally breathe easy.

It was an incredible relief to get the call on Friday and Chris and I said to hell with the diet ... a new job warranted a feast.

As much as I enjoyed the glutony that was dinner, nothing tasted nearly as good as I had imagined. And I felt like total crap ... feeling full (excessively so) just isn't appealing anymore.

I was afraid that when I did fall off the proverbial food wagon that I would have difficulty getting back on. But, surprise, surprise it was almost effortless.

I wanted to get in the gym. To feel that surge of energy. To feel my tummy gurgle, rather than groan.

Saturday and today have been awesome. No cheating. No wanting to cheat. Just dedication. Can't wait until weigh-in Wednesday to see if my efforts (aside from the slip) will result in shrinking numbers.

p.s. The pic is me and my little man just before we head out to cheat fest 2008.

Day Nine (Secrets)

OK, I'm done pouting about the job situation (for now) and am again fully focused on loosing weight. After all, defluffing my feathers will only give my self-confidence a (much-needed!!) boost, which will/should in turn give me a self-assured edge when I saunter into office after office for interviews.

So, on to the secrets of my 9-lb-in-a-week-weigh-loss success (whoo-hoo! Oh, but please note, I am in no way a voice of health, reason, or even sanity on most days, so take my tips with a grain of salt - and maybe a chip or two if you're dying to cheat. Just wanted to share what has been working for me ... hope these help Shelly!):

*My -ack! - 29th birthday is in 17 days and, in honor of my LAST 20-something birthday, I have made it my mission to loose 20-something pounds by the big day! Lofty goal, I know, but setting smaller goals with a nice payoff (girls night out - yeah, daddy!) helps keep me focused. 20-something sounds waaaay less intimidating than 80-something. So, tackle this little goal (or come damn near close!) then move on to the next one.

*I have made a deal with myself about working out: I will hit the gym 5 days and rest on 2. Plus, I started out with an exercise limit that kicks my ass, but not so much so that I can't fathom the thought of repeating it the next day. But, during the workout when I think I can't go on, I just keep repeating (in my head of course, don't want the other sweat sisters to think I'm a whack job) my chant: "I WILL release the thin within!" Shockingly, it has been a huge help!

*Also, after each set of 7 workouts, I will increase my activity. After tommorrow's sweat session, I will bump up my treadmill fun by 5 minutes and increase my weights by 5-10 lbs. and maybe mix in some stairclimber action if I'm feeling extra randy, lol!

*Now, as for eating, I have never been a huge fan of breakfast. I was always one of those that suscribed to the wait-and-binge-later school of thought. Now, however, I nibble on something in the AM to get the metabolism juicing. Right now I'm loving the vanilla and almond Special K ... yum. I skip the milk (eeww) and chomp on dry bits from a baggie while taking Cooper to daycare. Also, I try to make lunch my largest meal of the day, which I have realized (um, hello, duh!) keeps me from feeling famished by 5. For dinner I snack on something small like yogurt, an apple or crackers and also finish before 7:30. Oh, and at lunch, I usually try to eat whatever I want, but keep the portions in check (deprivation is the angel of death for any diet), but I am giving up the sweets. Poo.

*Since Chris and I are in this together, we have agreed that if the other is feeling weak, the other has to pick up the slack, no ifs ands or buts about it! Also, we have planned to have one fabulous cheat night a month (sans guilt) - bring on the cheesecake baby.

*When Chris and I decided that this was it, no more "We'll start on Monday" stuff, he said the greatest thing: "We have to think of it like this: 'Food is not entertianment, it's fuel.'" We have always been guilty of using meal time as a substitute for doing other things, so changing our viewpoint on the purpose of food has been amazing.

* Another trick? My humiliation-turned-accountability on the web. Whenever I think that this sucks to much to continue, I just remember that people now know my shame and I have to make sure that I rectify that. That, AND I want Coop to grow up with a mommy who's active and fun, not a total couch cruiser with crumbs permanently bedecking her chest.

*My last and absolute best trick is a total appetite savor. Whenever I'm feeling weak (which, right now, seems like every minute of every day) I chomp on Dentyne Ice Artic Chill gum. The intense minty flavor kills my cravings, keeps my oral fixation satisfied and hello, fresh breath ... can't beat that. Mix it up with swigs of Diet Pepsi (which, yowzer, if the gum is a fresh piece, watch out, it burns a little) and I'm good to go.

Day 7/8 (Weigh Day #1)

Today is weigh day and I am super excited about what the scales revealed this AM: 219! That's a 9 lb. weight loss in a week - whoo-hoo!

I would post more about the details, emotions, yadda yadda, but I have to admit that my excitement about the lost poundage has been diminished by my current employment situation (or lack thereof ... I work for a large corporation that has decided to close ... which means I've been pounding the pavement for a month now. Sigh.).

Day 6 (Working Out)

If there is a word stronger than hate, I would use it times 100 to describe just how strongly I feel about working out.

I have always admired those women running along the jogging trails and on treadmills … they look so determined, so focused. I have always secretly longed to be one of those self-assured, toned chicas who exude strength and an air of crave worthy health and wellness.

But that’s where it has always ended. At longing.

I’m a total wiener when it comes to physical exertion. In high school I always stopped running (or jumping or swinging or whatever the hell the day’s torture was) during tennis training whenever the coach popped out of sight. A couple of weeks ago I forced myself to lug my behemoth butt up the four flights of stairs at work and the fact that I nearly died thwarted any future repetitions.

That said, the fact that I have managed to make it to the gym four days out of the past six is, in a word, AMAZING!

I’ve been sweating like a crazy person for 20 minutes on the treadmill, cringing through 10 minutes on the weights and aching through stretching and ab work at night. It doesn’t sound like much, but essentially hauling around two people on the frame of one is well, exhausting!

I only hope to improve. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll be the one who looks like workout Barbie trotting alongside the roadway.

Um, or not. But workout Barbie’s less-determined plumpy sister is probably doable. =)

p.s. Some crazy dude bedecked in plaid golf shorts and Vans was bogarting the arm weights today so I bailed, only to find a more suitable — and adorable — option. Cooper, all 18-plus pounds of him, is perfect for working out the biceps. And his giggles of delight inspire me to keep going. Well, that is of course until his string of drool finds its way to my forehead — niiiiice!

Day 4/5 (The Test)

“I just called to tell you that I have malignant melanoma.”

Those were the words my mom shared with me Friday afternoon. My mom, my best friend, my rock, my biggest cheerleader was calling to tell me she has cancer.

She was upbeat in her delivery, unaffected, in charge. I knew part of the façade was to help me better-handle the news. The other part was for her.

“There is nothing to freak out about yet. I’ll let you know when/if it’s time,” she said lightly.

I forced myself to stay strong through the conversation until I heard her end of the line click to an eerie silence.

Then I let the tears fall where they may.

Normally, such an emotional devastation would have me saying, “SCREW IT!” to a diet. My mom is sick, I can’t help her and I am guilt-ridden about that. Overindulgence in food to the point of sickness would offer me instant comfort — it always had in the past.

I thought of the restaurant gift card I had in my wallet. Of the leftover brownies I had yet to toss out. I wanted something — anything — to make me feel OK in those first few moments when it seemed like nothing ever would again.

But I refused to turn to my constant companion. I didn’t want my online saga of divulging my numbers to have been in vain. And I knew, in my heart of hearts, that if I gave in now, I might never find the strength to start again.

I turned off the lights in the kitchen, grabbed the hubby and the baby and headed out … I needed a breather.

I shopped the sales at Bath & Body, loading up on sweet-smelling scents. I grabbed trashy magazines, canoodled with the baby. When we came home, I ate a light dinner, took a bath and researched malignant melanoma.

When the baby hit his pre-bedtime giggle fit, we called my mom (aka Mimi). We got her voicemail so I put the phone to Cooper’s ear so he could coo and laugh on the machine. “Just called to say we love you Melanoma Mimi,” I laughed, Coop continuing to squeal in the background.

The emotion of the day had given way to a renewed sense of evil humor. But I knew my mom would appreciate the sentiment.

Day Three (Kudos)

OK, so last night was total gut check time: Did I really want the entire world to know just how out of control my weight is??? Sure, you can tell by looking at me, but it's totally different when numbers are associated. Yowzer!

I gave this venture serious thought and then said, "What the hell? Nothing else has worked."

The hubby was asleep when I finished posting last night and he didn't see the site until this AM.

"Wow," he said when he called from work after reading it. "You're really putting yourself out there aren't ya?"

Insert instant stomach cramps and waves of self doubt. Shit. Is this wrong???

"What do you mean?" I squeaked out.

"Your post. With your weight and stuff. (long pause) I'm impressed. Very impressed."

Aww. YAY!

"Thanks honey, I appreciate it."

Shortly following the phone call, the hubby forwarded an e-mail he'd received from one of his coworkers:

Your wife is the coolest. I admire her. She seems to always be on top of everything. She works, takes care of Cooper and you, cleans the house, blogs, looks for a job….she is amazing. I can't believe she put all that information on the computer. Hey, like she said, it keeps her accountable along with the whole world. Good for her. Even though she thinks she needs to lose some pounds (me too badly), she is so freaking cute. You are very lucky. She is lucky to have you supporting her and just an all around great guy, great hubby, and awesome dad!!!! Tell her she is doing great!!!

Double yay (thanks chica)!

I was hoping that by baring my BIGGEST secrets that two things would happen. 1.) Not only would I better my chances of success, after all it's one thing to weigh 228 and working on shredding that number, it's a totally different thing when you say you weigh that much and aren't actively working on it. 2.) That other women might be moved, if not inspired, to follow suit.

Only time will tell, but as for mid-morning on day three, I'm cautiously optimistic. Now, if I can just give my slug butt to the gym. UUGGHH.

Day One/Two (Just the Beginning)

After battling infertility for nearly three years, one of the steps my specialist said would help secure a bun in the proverbial oven would be for me to drop some fluffiness from my, well, "fluffy" frame.

I did. 45 lbs worth. Rock on!

Now, 7 months post baby (my how the diapers are piling up), I am inching back toward my beginning weight (which was also the heaviest of my life) - grrr. In fact, I have gained a whopping 20 lbs in the past 3 months.

Um, hello, earth to chubbles! You have got to break up with Ben & Jerry.

Anywhoo, thoroughly disgusted by my lack of self-control, the hubby and I have decided it's time to get serious about loosing some poundage. Our son, Cooper, will be talking before we know it and I'd hate for him to refer to us as chunky monkey and fat-bottom Bessie instead of dada and mama (although that would show an amazingly impressive vocabulary!).

Desperate to be a future MILF (OK, maybe not a MILF, I could never be a MILF, but a hot soccer mom might be doable with a ton of work, oh, and a minivan - eek!), I have devised a plan that will ensure my ultimate success. I will skip the popping of powerful appetite suppressants or adopting anorexic tendencies and instead will completely, totally, utterly humiliate myself on the world wide web (hey, whatever works, right!).

I can't be accountable only to myself or my hubby ... I'm stuck with me and hell, let's face it, he is too. I need to be accountable to the world.

So humiliation here I come!

Beginning, um, now, I will start posting the dirty details that NO WOMAN ever wants revealed:

My Dress Size!

GASP!

My Weight!

Double GASP!

Bonus? Photos!

I think I'm having a heart attack.

As of yesterday, January 2nd, which was actually Day One of the diet but I was too busy to blog until now, here were/are my starting stats:

Dress size: 20

Weight: 228

Photo: The above pic was taken just after my innagural workout. Niiice, right??

So, there it is, in all it's full-figured glory ... my ultimate self-sacrifice, the numbers no one should ever know, nor posess.

Day one is down, and day two is rapidly coming to a close and every time my mind wanders to thoughts of sweet nothings (which are actually full of EVERYTHING), I say my Fat Chants: "I WILL release the thin within!"