un-measurable success

The scales should not define victory. So why do I care so much? Why do I look to the scales to tell me "how well I did" this week? All the energy, all the effort, all the sweat cannot be measured on the scales.

After my week on the healthy train, I lost about 2.5 pounds. It is a good weightloss. And yet, it is hard to not be disappointed. I feel like after all the effort I have put forth this week, I should have lost at least ten pounds. OK, fine, at least five.

{But, I didn't weigh in last week [didn't feel like facing a gain] so, it is possible I did loose more, but it didn't show up. }

Who cares. I lost 2.5 pounds. OH yeah, I also "went" 35.5 miles total last week. That is really a success right there!! This fat girl rode and walked a total of 35.5 miles. I think that's just darn incredible.

And, unmeasurable success? Well, that is how I feel inside about living healthy. I feel good. My life is turning in this arc of health and I look towards my future with optimism and hope.

playing the game....tag, you're it!

Alicia tagged me!! Yea!! I get to play along... Here goes:

Here's the rules: mention the person that tagged you. check!
Complete the lists of 8's. on it!
Tag 8 of your wonderful blogger friends. who do i want to tag??? mmm....
Go tell them you tagged them! here we go!

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:
1. weighing in on Monday
2. working out today [gasp! I can't believe I'm looking forward to that!]
3. the day when eating healthy comes naturally
4. the day when I can ride a real bike for ten miles
5. being able to wear a bikini and totally rock it out!
6. weighing less than 200 pounds
7. being an example of good health to my children

8 Things I Did Yesterday:
1. ate ten points more than my allotted amount
2. rode a freaking bike for ten miles
3. wrote down everything I ate [even when I knew I was eating too much]
4. planned out my cheat day [come on, Tuesday!]
5. blogged about being fat
6. wore a tank top that was a tad too small
7. realized my ankles are very chubby
8. wore a non-supportive bra to the YMCA... it was a very jiggly day....

8 Things I Wish I Could Do:
1. create my own gym inside my home
2. work out every day with a kill-all trainer
3. look sexy when I work out
4. eat whatever I want and still be skinny
5. be perfect
6. have everybody like me
7. be on the computer all day without feeling guilty about neglecting my housework, husband and children
8. BE SKINNY


8 Shows I Watch:
1. American Idol
2. FRIENDS [yes, I watch the re-runs... I just can't get enough; it's my guilty pleasure]
3. Ace of Cakes [food network]
4. Extreme Cake Challenge
5. Joyce Meyers "Everyday Living"
6. TODAY Show
7. Lie to Me
8. Law and Order SVU

Look below to see who I tagged [in no particular order]:
[I am sure some of you have been tagged recently, but I had to add you to the list anyways. FYI I would have also tagged Alica and Serenity, my girls, but they have already played.]

Gracie
Jenn[ifer] {she's already been tagged by someone else; go read her list!}
April
Jessi Dawn
Aunt of 14 {she's already been tagged, too... but go read her list!}
SkinneMinnie
Lynne
Kim

ten miles but no magic

Yesterday I went TEN MILES on the stationary bike at the YMCA. Wow. I wow myself.

I did the Dragon Chase game, my favorite thing to do these days [work out wise, I mean. Hee-hee]. I went 5.85 miles on the bike while playing the game. [It is a simple concept; you collect a green coin and then find a green dragon. Each color is a different amount of points. The more dragons you collect, the higher your points. And, consequently, you end up bicycling miles and miles.]

After pushing myself to go 5.85 miles in 20 minutes, I decided to try another one of the "bike trails" program the preppy new bike offers. I did a route that was four miles. Made it just under 20 minutes. [Then, just to hit ten miles total, I biked about .15th of a mile.]

I can hardly believe that ME, the fat girl, can accomplish such a feat. Heck, I weigh 264 pounds!! [Last we checked, hopefully, it's less than that now.... We'll find out Monday!!]

After riding for 10 miles, I felt like a skinny girl. A fit girl. A sexy girl.

Then, I looked in the mirror. Not a skinny girl. Not a fit girl. Still fat. Still flabby. Still have a huge belly.

It feels like that ten mile ride should transform me into skinny girl. Sigh.

It's not magic. Just hard, hard work.

joining the walk down memory lane

Come for a walk with me down Memory Lane!
And if you have a "Memory Lane" post, head on over to Scottsville to join in on the fun!

I checked out Serenity's blog this morning and read a hilarious post about her son's, um, er, favorite appendage. She joined the new meme at the Scottsville blog where you "walk down memory lane". I thought it was too much fun to pass on, so here goes.... racking my brain, racking... [slight pain from all the racking...] OK. Got one; here goes!

I am terrified of geese.

When I was a little girl my dad raised a couple of geese in our backyard. They are mean birds. One Sunday morning, my dad asked Big Brother and me to take the garbage out to the alley. We had to walk through the geese's domain; the backyard.

I was already in my Sunday dress and my pretty white tights. But I was a brave little girl and Big Brother promised to keep me safe. So, off we trotted, garbage in hand.

Half way through across the yard, the larger of the two geese thrust his neck out, flapped his wings and charged at the two children invading his territory. I screamed, Big Brother hollered and we broke into a bolt, hoping frantically to reach the gate by the alley.

Ignoring the gate, Big Brother sailed over the fence and landed in safety. Being one year younger [and a very dainty little girl] my sailing over fences ability was minimal at best My foot got stuck in the fencing.

"OUCH!" the rest of the story is a blur to me. My butt hurt. My pretty tights were torn. And now I hate geese.

OK, so I hope that was a good walk down memory lane. I really do hate geese. My husband thinks it's funny; but please, keep the geese away.

my cheezy analogy and a little hoo-hoo

It is Day Four of living life on what I have dubbed "the healthy train". [Can you hear me blow the whistle? Hoo-hoo!]

I like the healthy train analogy. It gives me momentum. I'm on it and I'm not stopping off at the un-healthy eating station. Or the "I'm too tired to exercise" station. I am on the healthy train, headed towards a better life of health and wholeness.

Hoo-hoo! Watch out; I'm on the healthy train! Wanna jump on board? Let me hear ya; hoo-hoo!

[Yeah, yeah, it's a tad cheezy and maybe a little lame... but for this fat girl, some how, it helps me. What can I say?]

hoping for an un-fat day on the healthy train

I actually had one full day on the healthy train yesterday. One. Full. Day. [You know I have a serious problem when I celebrate being on the program 100% for one day.]

I decided to start journaling my food and keep track of points. I did WW for about two years in my pre-marriage life, so points are what I know. Don't ask me how many calories or fat grams are in a dish, I have no idea! But I can look down a buffet line and have a pretty exact knowledge of how many points each item adds to the menu. Yeah, I'm that good. Wink-wink.

I do have one question for you.... If I am up at midnight with a baby.... And I have a [healthy] snack...... Do I count that as yesterday or today? Hummm... Good question, isn't it?

Alicia commented that it is "hard to follow through" and that rang so true inside of me. Ever since I was a fat teenager, I would lie in bed at night and make promises to myself about the following day. Promising myself I would eat healthy and do some sort of exercise tomorrow. You know, I am an honest person and I don't break my promises. Except to myself. I have broken so many. It is hard to follow through.

But, I do not want to sink into a melancholy mood this early in the morning. So, I'm going to focus on the good stuff.

I worked out twice yesterday. There is an added challenge to the YMCA challenge; how far can you go in a week? I went three miles on the elliptical [aka the killer machine] and six miles on the bike. Not bad for one day. Not bad for a fat girl.

Now, let's go and have an un-fat day!

self sabotaging the fat girl

Why can't I end the day the way I begin it?


My resolutions run high and my will power is strong when the morning sun awakens me. [Or, when my children awaken me...] I feel like I can conquer the world. In the very least, conquer the darn stash of hidden chocolate.


The killer work outs remind me to not eat junk and the morning rushes about me, very much under control.


Lunch sneaks up on me, but I am still committed to good eating. As the evening approaches, my will power begins to dissolve. DISSOLVE. Like an alka seltzer dropped into a cup of water. The dinner plate grows into twice what I ate for breakfast. Then the kids go to bed and I start to snoop around the kitchen for anything and everything.


Since my will power has dissolved, nothing stops me from eating. In a matter of a few hours, I undo what I worked so hard to do all day. I nullify my own efforts. Is this called self-sabotage?

one pound's thoughts

Back up to 264. I gained a pound. I knew I would. When one eats junk, one gains. Yeah, yeah.

It is hard to not feel incredible discouragement. Hard to not feel that the past two weeks have been a waste since I am back where I was two weeks ago.

But, I'm not back where I was, except with my weight. I can do much more physically. The things Mike, the personal trainer, has us doing... well, it shocks me that I can do it! I never thought I'd be able to do a squat, stay squatted and half-squat across the room. Amazes me. I amaze me. That is totally cool.

I am going to keep trucking along. Push through. I am going to work really hard this week, hoping to loose three pounds. Going to really watch what I eat and keep it healthy. Refrain from those "well just this once" treats and instead reach for fruit or veggies. Work my butt off [hopefully, literally!]

I'll keep ya posted.

resurrection by Nicole Sponberg describes ME

I'm at a loss for words there's nothing to say.

I sit in silence wondering what led me to this place.

How did my heart become so lifeless and cold?

Where did the passion go?

When all my efforts seem like chasing the wind,

I've used up my strength and there's nothing left to give.

I've lost the feeling and I'm numb to the core.

I can't fake it anymore.

Here I am; at the end.

I'm in need of resurrection.

Only You can take this empty shell

and raise it from the dead.

What I've lost to the world

What seems far beyond redemption

You can take the pieces in Your hand

and make me whole again.

You speak and all creation falls to its knees.

You raise your hand and calm the waves of the raging sea.

You have a way of turning winter to spring.

Make something beautiful out of all this suffering.

Here I am; once again.

I'm in need of resurrection

Only You can take this empty shell

And raise it from the dead.

What I've lost to the world

What seems far beyond redemption

You take the pieces in Your hands

and make me whole again.

chocolate does not heal the sadness

I ate the last of the chocolate-topped rice krispie treats. And when I say "the last", I mean the last TEN pieces. Ten big pieces. And the last of my favorite Hershey mini bars. The frosted cookies and frosted mini-cupcakes don't matter to me. Let them sit on my counter, for all I care. But, chocolate? If it's in my house and I know about it... it is a loosing battle. The addiction still holds me.

Going another direction tonight [away from the chocolate binge]... I have a friend who does not want to really be my friend anymore. She once told me I could trust her. That she would be loyal to me. Over a year later, she has withdrawn her hand of deep, loyal friendship and now extends to me a hand of acquaintance. Deep sighs expel my discouragement. I miss my friend. I am hurt that my friend no longer wants an intimate relationship with me. I hate it that I let her in.

She is a huge advocate of Thin Within [the non-diet diet I was promoting on my blog a few months ago]. I have decided TW is not the all-answer I thought it was and have moved onto another plan of attack against my weight issues. My friend has not. She thinks if she can just get into TW enough; if she can just really have faith in God; if she can just......... blah, blah, blah.

I feel like our friendship is contingent on TW. Like she doesn't want to be my friend unless I am doing that specific diet plan. Isn't that weird? Here's the thing: TW says it is the only right way to loose weight. That all other ways are not pleasing to God. Now, I bought that for awhile. [Oh, I can just hear you all gasping!! It does sound awful when I put it that way, but, truly, that's what it says!] So, my friend thinks I am sinning by eating healthy [she would call it dieting] and exercising to loose weight. TW says you should just pray and ask God to help you loose weight. Apparently, our friendship exists only when I am following TW. Messed up, isn't?

And so my heart is sad. Sad to loose a friend. Sad that I have to be around her when I feel so mixed up inside. Sad that I let her into my heart and now must shut the door to it. Sad. Yep, that's me.

what if i gain???

I weigh in tomorrow. I am scared. I have eaten some crap this week and it just might show up on the scales.

If it does; so what? I will "start again" and go at it, gung-ho, to continue down the weight loss road. This is part of it, right? A birthday. A brunch with the girls. Easter goodies. What a week.

I'll keep you posted. Literally.

the fat girl's Easter outfit and my look towards "later"

"This is the body you have, get over it and make the best of it!"

Yeah, I had to tell myself this in the dressing room today. See, I'm singing at church tomorrow for Easter and found out Thursday night that there was a dress code. My usual blue jeans and semi-dressy top would not do for performing a Sunday special. Sigh. Off I went to the wonderful local Dress Barn. That place rocks!! They have sizes 4 to 24. I love the way they divide the store between "petites" [i.e. normal size] and "womens" [i.e. fat girls].

I, of course, go to the right side of the store, Fat Girl Land, to do my shopping. I must admit, I was very overwhelmed. I had this image in my mind I wanted to fulfill. I wanted to look classy, but not like my mother. Slim and not fat. Pretty, but not overdone. Sexy, but not trampy. It was quite the challenge.

I grabbed about a dozen tops and four bottoms before Nikki, the sales lady, offered me a dressing room. She could see I would be there awhile.

I went through all the tops. This one was too big. This one too small. That one too trashy. That one to maternal. Sigh. I was very discouraged. Out of the dressing room I whirled. I eyeballed the racks and racks of clothing. Wasn't there anything that would magically transform my fat hips and belly into a modelesque figure?

"Can I help you?" Nikki was back. I liked Nikki. She was fat like me. Older like my mom. I needed a girlfriend and I decided Nikki would have to do.

"I need an Easter outfit. No black. No red."

The outfit we landed on is perfect. It took several more tries. A discarded floral skirt that I would love on another body and a sexy top I'll save for later remained in the full dressing room. I walked out with brown dress up cropped pants and a white, button-up blouse. The blouse has amazing sleeves that I totally love. Oh, yes, plus I bought some brown shoes.

I won't be skinny in my new Easter outfit. This fat body of mine is my realty. No outfit will change that. So, I have to work with what I got. A rolly polly belly, big boobs, and very jiggly thighs. What I got for now. Key word: "now". I am totally looking forward to "later".

did you hear that? something is screaming my name...

I stared at the gooey Easter Cadbury eggs today at Walmart. Stared at them long and hard. Really, really, wanted to buy a box. OK, several boxes. I gritted my teeth and kept walking.

I am opening my home to several families for Easter. I don't want anyone to be alone for Easter; I hate being alone on any holiday. Since no one invited us over, we decided to invite others.

So, I'm doing some cooking. I am making lamb since I want to remember the Lamb of God that was slain for my sins. Also, various other goodies.

One of my new favorite desserts is [are you ready for this??] peanut-butter-rice-krispie-treats with melted chocolate on top. Oh. It. Is. So. Good. YUM. I decided I would make it for "the kids" for Easter. The grown ups get peach cobbler [one of my hubby's favorite desserts]. Yeah, yeah, OK. The rice krispie treats are really for me. The kids are just a good excuse.

I have all the ingredients. Not that there are many. But I have them all. The bag of chocolate chips is on the counter. I want to tear it open and eat half the bag. Or, really, I want to make the rice krispie treats. Let's just eat them tonight! But, here's the problem. I know my weakness. I know I am weak. I don't trust myself to only eat one. Or, for that matter, only eat two. I just might eat the entire pan. I have before.

So. I am not making the krispie treats today. I will wait and make them tomorrow. Or, maybe even Sunday after church. The less time I have to snitch the whole pan away, the better.

one other thing.........

P.S. Oh yeah, I lost one pound this week. Yeah, I know. Good job. Thanks.

four things i like and one i don't

Instructor Mike's assignment:

Name four things you like about yourself. [Or if you don't like anything, name the four you dislike the least.] Second, name only ONE thing you want to change about yourself. [Yes, you must narrow it down to only ONE.]

Here goes.

Four things I like about myself. Oh, gosh, well, [blush-blush] I love my gorgeous curly hair. Everyone who knows me [in real life] always goes on and on about my curls. Oh, they're so beautiful. Tee-hee. OK. Next.

Number Two. Well......... Maybe my boobs. I mean, not everyone can have boobs as big as mine. I don't know if I would have picked out ginormous boobs if I was the one picking out boobs, but since those are the ones I got... well, I'd rather have humongo boobs than no boobs at all. So. Number Two: my boobs.

Number Three. My teeth. I have nice teeth, what can I say? They are naturally straight and only slightly off white. Not bad for a girl whose parent rarely afforded dental care. Not bad at all.

And last, but not least... I guess I like my pinkie toe. Just kidding. Ha, ha, ha. OK. For real. [Wow, four things. This is harder than I thought... what else? what else?? Could I say I like my uterus? I mean, it has carried four babies and that totally rocks, right? No, I don't think that counts. It has to be something on the outside... think, think...] OK. Got it. My eyes. I do get compliments on my eyes. Seriously. They are rather pretty. [Can you see me? I'm batting my eyes at you right now. Bat. Bat.]

Now for the easy part. What I don't like. Narrowing the list. Narrowing... Ah-ha! My top "don't like feature" would have to be my stomach. Ick. Yuck. Gross. And Ick again.

Instructor Mike insists we now make an action plan to fix the one thing we don't like [the most] about ourselves. He says, "Now that we know you don't like your ____, it's time to get off your butt and do something about it!" Yeah, yeah.

OK. So, Flabby Belly, we're onto YOU!! Here's the plan of attack. Keep going to the YMCA. I'm going to start doing daily abs work outs. [Even as I write that... I'm not sure I'll really do that... but it's a good idea.] I am not even, necessarily, going for flat abs. Just less flabby ones. Really.

OK. Did Instructor Mike's weekly assignment. Check that off the "to-do" list.

the @#$%^& morning work out!!!

Oh, I was such a bitch non-nice person this morning. Ack. Overly optimistic person that I am, I brightly suggested to the handsome hubby that we should just jog around the block instead of head off to the YMCA.

"Could we ride bikes?" he pleaded. There's a bit of history with the darn bikes. We invested about $300 into bikes and bike trailers last November. I have ridden my pretty bike about two times. The last time I road it some stranger made a rude comment while I drove by. That was fun.

But the husband is handsome. And I do want to be able to ride bikes with him. How romantic would that be? So, off we went.

It took all of one minute before I was huffing and puffing. Argh! Eight minutes later, my stupid weak wrists were burning in pain. Carpal Tunnel is a very non-fun condition.

See I have abdominal muscles that suck. They have carried four children and are loose and barely hold up my saggy belly fat. Requiring those wienie muscles to hold my body up so I don't have to support my weight on the handle bars just doesn't work. And then my wrists begin to hurt. And I get pretty bitchy cranky.

After the mile bike ride around the complex, we ditched the bikes and used our God-given ability to walk. Attempting to keep my heart rate at the "target heart rate" instructor Mike suggested, I actually broke into a jog. All two hundred and sixty-five pounds of me. Jogging. Wiggling. Jiggling. Such wondrous fun.

"Where did this come from?" not-out-of-breath-cute-husband asked me.

"Whatever." I replied curtly. He's lucky I didn't swear at him. I jogged until I couldn't stand it and then walked until I caught my breath. Jog. Walk. Jog. Walk.

Why am I such a bitch crank when I work out? Here's my evaluation: I am pissed off at myself for being so out of shape. Pissed. This is NOT who I want to be. I want to be able to jog a dad-gum-mile! I want to be able to ride the darn bike and not be winded two minutes into it. I am mad at my body.

Amazingly, the hubby thinks my bitchiness crankiness is sexy. Whatever.

once upon a time there was a girl

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl who loved her new body, despite it's 200 pounds. A girl who celebrated her weightloss by picking up things that weighed 100 pounds. She could barely lift what was once a part of her 300 pound body.

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl who grew to love to work out. Seriously. She got up every morning, pulled on the laid out exercise clothes, and woke her foggy brain with the early morning air. She jogged no matter the weather. Only if it was single digits [nine degrees or below] would she succumb to working out inside and then it was to TAEBO videos. This girl worked hard.

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl who conquered her addiction. A girl who learned to walk past the ice cream freezer and treat herself with a new bottle of nail polish instead of a pound of fattening food. A girl who could scope out an all-you-can-eat-buffet and know exactly how many WW points were contained in each dish.

Once upon a time this girl fell in love and got married. Her husband wanted to make love in the mornings so she began to skip her morning walks. [Who can deny the handsome prince charming?] Those morning [and afternoon and evening] "cuddle" sessions soon produced beautiful children. But the pregnancies proved to difficult and came so often her body didn't have time to recover. Old addictive behaviors snuck back and clung to her like an evil demon and food, once again, became her enemy.

Once upon a time the girl became a mother and self priorities were slowly pushed to the back burner. Needs became minimal and survival mode kicked in. Children took sleep in the night and the sunrise always came early. The mother grew heavier and heavier as the years flew by.

Once upon a time there was a mother. The mother had beautiful girls and boys. The girls and boys needed their mother to remember The Girl who had disappeared. The Girl who had committed herself to a life of health and vitality.

I can feel The Girl inside me. Walking out of the YMCA yesterday....... It was like that old Me, The Girl, reached out and touched me. It was a re-kindling in my inner self. The old feelings of owning exercise, of enjoying that work out time period, it all flooded my self and I breathed deeply the nostalgic thoughts.

Somehow, I must combine The Girl and The Mother. I do not want to be The Girl. She was selfish and immature. But, I do want to glean from her and learn from her. I want to remember her hopes and dreams and somehow, someway, unite them with who I am now.

To be continued............

the tip of the fatberg

I have started too many diets in my 29 years. Despite my best efforts to not relive those failures, they are there. Staring at me as I attempt, yet again to change my life.

I lost five pounds this past week. It's great. I am happy with the results But. I've lost five pounds before. Heck, I've just recently lost five pounds. And then gained five pounds. So, while loosing five pounds is great, it is not the end. This is just the beginning.

I ask myself, "will this really be it?" Will this be the time when my life really changes? For forever?

Oh, I so desperately hope it is. I know better than to even call this a diet. Diets don't work because diets begin and end. I don't want to ever quit eating this way. Healthy. Foods that are good for you. This is a lifestyle change; I get that. I do.