Days 88-90 (milestone!)

I was counting the days since my last post and realized, “Holy Hannah! Today is Day 90” of my mission to release the thin within and finally become a hot(ish) mama!

My how time flies (but certainly not the scenery) when you’re on a dreadmill!

I have now logged 90 days, 2,160 hours, 129,600 minutes and 7,776,000 seconds being either really good or really bad in the hope of overhauling my fluffy frame. But whether I was flying high or crawling low, the point that makes me throw my arms up and proudly wave those chicken wings (that keep on waving long after my arms have stopped) is the fact that I haven’t given up. Never thought of giving up.

And that, in my terribly long book of failed attempts, is certainly something worth celebrating. So, in honor of this milestone, I have decided I am going to kick some serious dieting ass!

90 days ago, my stats were:
Dress size: 20
Weight: 228

Today my stats are (as of Weigh Day last Wednesday):
Dress size: 18
Weight: 210

90 days from now, on June 28, 2008, I pledge that my stats will be:
Dress size: um, not sure, depends on where the weight falls from
Weight: 186 (I think I was 6 months old the last time I weighed somewhere in this ballpark!!!)

This is an easily achievable goal (if I stay away from places like the Braum’s drive-thru – eek gats!) of 2 pounds a week, 8 pounds a month.

I can do this. And when I cheat (which I will, I’m a cheater, that’s who I am, that’s what I do), I’ll just dust off those cookie crumbs, wipe the icing from my second chin and haul my big ol' butt back to the gym.

Days 86-87 (bleck!)

So, um, yeah. I tanked at the Italian birthday bash on Wednesday. As in:

• Oh, Mama Mia, tanked.
  
• That’s not amore tanked.
  
• Arrivederci smaller jeans tanked.

Sigh.

The double sigh comes in when I reluctantly confess that I tanked again yesterday. I cruised through breakfast, blazed through lunch and then I received a distressing e-mail in the afternoon that sent me straight to the 50%-off Easter candy aisle at my friendly neighborhood CVS.

I blew off the gym and inhaled fistfuls of malted milk Easter eggs and jelly beans (no fat, do I get brownie points for that??).

All of this binging, and not-so-much binging, has led me to one brain-bending, earth-rockin’ conclusion: the side effects of erratic dieting are the EXACT SAME as early pregnancy!!!!

Early Signs You’ve Got a Bun in the Oven:

• exhaustion that puts your butt in bed before the sun sets
  
• bouts of nausea that make you look up at coworkers (because your head is laying down)
  
• insatiable cravings that have your husband buying you pickles in the wee hours of the night
  
• acne like that of a 13-year-old hormone-crazed girl

Late Signs That I’m a Dieting Extremist:

• exhaustion that has me tucking in somewhere just after Cooper and before 8:30
  
• bouts of nausea that have my coworkers asking, “Um, are you feeling OK?”
  
• insatiable cravings that have me buying a large jar of pickles on my lunch break
  
• acne like that of a 13-year-old hormone-crazed girl

While in my frenzied Easter candy shop-a-thon, I thought, “What the hell?” and tossed in a pregnancy test … just to make sure my theory held water.

It does. I’m not preggars.

I’m just a fatty with no willpower.

YAY!

Days 84-85 (Weigh Day #12)

Not too much to report at the moment, today was/is weigh day and I'm holding steady at 210. I'm desperately trying to get back on track after my recent decent into chocolate oblivion (aka Easter weekend), and so far I've done great .... but, sigh, things may be on the downhill slide once again. We have a birthday dinner to attend tonight (at an Italian place - my favorite - CRAP!), then I'm having dinner and drinks with a good friend on Friday, Chris is having a daddy's night out Saturday (since I'm taking a MNO), which means I'll be left unsupervised (gasp!). Then, Sunday, I'm going to the ballet with a friend, which will probably mean lunch before.

EEE, gats, I hope I can stay strong! Maybe I'll just keep dill pickles in my purse and stuff 'em in my mouth when temptation becomes to great to bare. (Just stocked the baby fridge at work with some, as a matter of fact. I had a craving and I know preggars, aka my coworker, would down 'em, too).

Days 80-83 (gimme' dat bunny!)

oooh. bad. mama.

This past weekend I was baaad, as in yellow bunny peeps bad. Chocolate easter bunny bad. Cadbury cream eggs bad.

Bad tasted sooooo good! And the way I was binging, anyone within 10 feet of my mouth and chocolate pulled back a bloody, brown stub.

On Easter Sunday I decided to share my passion for chocolate with Cooper. I gave him a baby bunny to chomp on just long enough to get a couple of cute pics. And then Chris stole it. And that little monkey made a mad grab for his dearly departed bunny like a junkie jonesing for a hit.

Aww, like mother like son, taking no prisoners when it comes to chocolate - that's my little man.




back in the saddle--um, sure, why not--let's go with saddle, today: whole wheat pita and yogurt for lunch, dreadmill for dinner. Bleck. =)

Day 79 (second thoughts)

Hmm, maybe yesterday’s encounter with “the coworker” served a greater purpose than I had originally thought (which, of course was that I was a big tub o’ lard). Now, however, as the smells from the courtyard grill waft into my cube (we’re having the quarterly birthday BBQ today), I’m thinking that yesterday will give me the willpower and resolve I need to “just say no!” today — to b-day cake (even though my name is on it) and chips, hamburgers and hotdogs. “Just a small serving of grilled chicken, please (with a poop pill and a pickle on the side).” =)

Day 78 (Weigh Day #11)

I was a big-time cheat this past week (as in, working out, umm, what? Eating whatever? Um, yep!) and so I say, with whole-hearted gratitude and complete and utter devotion, "Thank you stomach bug for the 1-lb. weight loss, thank you."

Now, exactly 3 months into my "hot mama" mission, I have lost 18 lbs and have just 11to go to be where my body has never been before ... in the 100s in my 20s. Whoa, look out!

Looking in the mirror this evening as I changed into my jammies (oversized pj pants and one of the hubby's tees, I know, total sex kitten!) I came to the conclusion that when my gut becomes as flat as my ass, I am gonna' be one happy mama!!!!

If i could just somehow swing the paunch from the front to the back, my frame would be looking pretty sweet (well, at least my today's viewing standards).

Anywhoo, side note: Ladies, I need your input.

Let's say you were on a diet and you were pretty open with your coworkers about it, would you be offended if someone called you out on what he/she considered cheating?

Picture it: You're sitting at your desk eating lunch (a KFC tender roast sandwich w/o the sauce and a cup of baked beans: total cals: 520, total fat grams: 6) when a male coworker walks by, picks up the brown paper bag from your desk and says, "Um, KFC, huh? I don't think this is on your diet."

What would you say? How would you react? Do you laugh it off, allowing for the fact that the working relationship is one of total "ball busting" fun? Do you tell him to bite you? Is it OK if you're embarrassed?

Would love to hear some thoughts on this.

Day 77 (well, crap)

I'm feeling like a total schlub today. Yes, the weather sucks monkeys (it's like a hurricane outside) and I've been dealing with a 2-day stint of the stomach/butt bug (the benefits, of course, being the nice loss of water weight!) ...

but ugh! I'm just out of it. Hopefully a nice, long bath and a healthy dose of gossip-rag reading will pull me out of this funk. (That AND, it's Tuesday night which can only mean one thing: One Tree Hill! Yes, it's teeny drama, but I luv, luv, luv it. It's my secret escape. Hmm, starting to feel better already, well, spiritually anyway ... the stomach's still a mess.)

Day 76 (my new BFF)

Walking to the bathroom this morning, the receptionist in my office (with whom I’ve barely exchanged more than pleasant “hellos”) said, “Are you losing weight?”

“I’m trying,” I replied.

“I can tell. You look like you’ve lost a lot. Your clothes are hanging on you.”

“Well, you’re my new BFF!”

Floating on a cloud of unexpected confidence, I walked into the bathroom and glanced in the mirror. After the exchange I’d just had, I expected to see a vision of “good lookin’ness.”

What I got was hideousness.

Fugliness, actually.

My clothes were, in fact, hanging. But not in that, “wow, you just dropped some tonnage,” way. It was more of, “oh, poor thing, you must shop at Goodwill,” way.

While I initially thought that tackling the Double Ds (debt and diet) was a great idea — you widdle down debt by slashing the food budget, which in turn widdles your middle — I’m now having second thoughts.

What happens when your widdled middle no longer fits into your clothes? What does the budget have to say about that?

I don’t mind looking like a frump on the weekends — I live in tee shirts and jeans — but at work, I have to look professional, hell, I’d settle for presentable at this point.

May have to have a “budget meeting” with the hubby and work on some creative financing.

All bitching aside though, this is a fan-freakin-tastic problem to have! Thanks BFF, for bringing it to my attention.

Day 73-75 (i am who i am)

It’s taken me a looong time to get to this point, but I’ve realized one basic truth about myself — I’m a cheater. And that’s OK.

For three months I’ve been beating myself up for every little slip I’ve made in my quest to “release the thin within.”

I’m over it.

I do great, amazing even, on some days. And others, well, I’m a sad little junk food eater. Sure, I’d love to power my way through this fatness and become one hot mama, but for me, that’s just not realistic.

My goal — when I see only one chin in the mirror and collar bones hibernating just beneath the surface of my skin and not 12 layers of fat — will be achieved later, rather than sooner.

But I’ll get there. I’m not giving up. I’m just finally giving myself permission to be OK with who I am.

And damn that feels good.

Day 70-72 (Weigh Day #10)

Holy mother of all that is yummy and delicious and fattening - I did it! I met my goal from last week. I stepped on the scales yesterday and weighed 211. That's 17 shed from my fluffy frame.

Just think, when I lose 2.13 more, I will have dropped the equivalant of my 9-month-old baby. Talk about putting things in perspective!

To recap, since the last weigh in, I added the poop pills to my diet. Since the program asks that you limit your fat intake, I'm not sure if it's that element that has been most helpful (39 grams and 1200 calories down from, well, let's be honest, who the hell knows) or the actual pills themselves. Probably both.

Also, two weeks ago I started adding intervals to my cardio (3 minutes walking, 1 minute running for 30-40 minutes depending on my energy level that day), so I'm sure that's helped, as well.

I know the workouts and weights have finally started paying off from the mirror's point of view because I'm starting to see the rumblings of something incredible - muscles! YOWZA!

Just the other night, the hubby was helping me with an ab routine and he said, "Holy shit!"

"What? What is it?" (He freaked me out, I thought something had exploded ... no, not my ass.)

He grabbed my thigh and said, "Dang! You're getting some serious muscle here."

Aww, greatest compliment ever! I'm still beaming. (thanks babe!)

Day 66-69 (model family)

Chris, Coop and I had a nice little family lunch out yesterday and while the food was good (I ordered from the “low-fat” section — grilled mahi mahi — thank you very much!), it was the view that was even better.

Across the aisle from us sat the most adorable family I’d ever seen! Hot mama, hot daddy, precious little boy with shaggy blond hair and a baby girl bedecked in a sweet little sundress. They were a cute, young group with a casual, funky flair that I instantly idolized.

I told the hubby, “In a second, without being too obvious, turn around and look at that table behind us. I. Want. To. Be. Them.”

He waited a few seconds, did a quick glance and then said, “Yep, me, too.”

“Hon, that family is our goal. They are our role models. We already have the precious little boy (sans the shag), now we have to lose the weight, get hot and have a baby girl.”

That’s totally doable, right???

Day 64-65 (Weigh Day #9)

Here's a little secret, I stepped on the scales Monday morning to see what kind of damage my weekend gorge fest had done to my progress.

What I saw wasn't just unattractive, it was downright ugly (like rank-smelling, no-teeth, puss-face kind of (f)ugly!).

I'd gained 3 lbs. in 3 days.

Holy shit balls! (Yes, I'll need two seats on the plane, at the movie theater, in the car for my expanding ass, please.)

Despite the groan of the scale on Monday, I am happy, no, excited, no, piss-in-my-pants thrilled (a la Fergie circa 2005) to report that as of yesterday, the official Weigh Day, that I have not only lost those gluttonous 3 lbs., but an additional 1, as well. Who-hoo!

Oh, and I tempted the fat fates this AM, as well ... (insert drum roll here) I'm down another friggin' pound!

I'm now at 214, a total of 14 lbs. lost.

The intervals on the dreadmill (3 minutes walking, 1 minute running for 35 minutes) combined with the low-cal, low-fat diet and Alli pills is working. Finally, a plan I think I can live with. Who-hoo!!!

It's my goal to plow through to the next weigh day without getting derailed (as I always do) and be down to 211.

Day 63 (the poop pill)

You know that pill that recovering alcoholics pop in an effort to keep their sobriety in tact? (The one that makes them deathly ill if they drink while taking it?)

Well, guess what? There's a version for fattys! Who-hoo!

Last year you couldn't turn on the TV, go to a store, talk to a fluffy butt on a diet without the word "Alli" popping up. I was more annoyed by the over-advertising of the dang thing than I was impressed by its supposed "powers."

But, after talking to a friend who's on it (and has pretty good success with it), Chris and I have decided to give the poop pill a go -- literally. =)

Here's how it works (in case anyone's been living in a cave for the past several months): the pill keeps your body from asorbing some of the fat in the foods that you eat -- good for the diet, but could be bad for your butt.

The blocked fat is eliminated naturally from your body (with all the other excess--ahem--crap), but, if you eat too many fat grams in one sitting--whamo! You're heading for a pretty nasty squat session.

I know, I know, grrrrross, right? Well, here's the thing, like the beligerant drunk aunt fanny pill that keeps her on track because of "what could happen" if she goes on a midnight bender, for me, the Alli pill keeps me from inhaling, scarfing, binging on the bad stuff. After all, who wants to be stuck in a meeting and suddenly feel (and hear) that tell-tale gargle of a bowel volcano waiting to erupt?

Umm, no thank you!

Chris and I are now on day 2 and neither of us have had what I affectionately call "an ass explosion," so we must be doing well on our fat intake (shocking!).

Only time will tell if this new ingredient in my recipe for "success" will work, but I'm already loving the fact that some of the self-regulating has been taken off my shoulders and relegated to a little pill. I've been stressing waaay too much about defluffing my frame and it's nice now to have a more solidified plan of attack.

Bonus? I LOVE to make lists and as part of the Alli program you document your daily chow sessions so that you keep track of the calories and fat you've consumed. I have us on 1,200 calories a day and 39 grams of fat (the lowest program outlined in the book).

Fingers are crossed that no "accidents" happen! =)

p.s. Has anyone tried these pills? If so, I'd love to know about your experiences.

Day 60-62 (suck-u-bus)

I am a suck-u-bus. Not like the one in Webster’s world where a sex-crazed demon assumes the female form to do “laundry” with men in their sleep (I would need some semblance of a sex drive to do that, sorry honey! Lol!).

In my world, it means I suck all of the motivation, inspiration, desire and passion from my soul and fill the gaping hole with what else? Food.

I am so tired of my ramblings … ricocheting between “I’m all fired up and ready to tackle the fatty patty side of myself” to “Um, yeah, I ate my weight in cheese last night. Oops.”

Ugh. I’m now more than 60 days into my mission to become a hot mama and I am still sabotaging my do-gooder efforts at every turn.

I truly am my own worst enemy.

This past weekend I gave into every craving, every “I’ll eat it just because it’s there,” every “why the hell not?”

The end result?

Barfing in the bathroom at midnight last night.

No, this time it was NOT self-induced, well, not directly anyway.

At first I thought I had food poisoning, but since Chris never joined the puke party, I ruled that out. Then I thought I must be getting the stomach flu, but when does that ever release its death grip after just 5 short rounds?

Conclusion? I can’t fight my suck-u-bus mentality, so my body is gonna’ do it for me. I ate weigh too much and so I had to be taught a lesson. A rough one.

Well, all I can say is today is a new day. A chance to start again. As I write this on my lunch break (a whole-wheat pita with turkey and a vanilla yogurt) I can only hope that I can remain true to my mission: “To release the thin within.”