Finding My: Quitting Isn't an Option

I've been a Weight Watcher's member for a long time now. Off and on, for the past 10 years, with varying degrees of success. I know from my experience, that my success (and lack thereof) is completely, and absolutely 100% a product of where I am mentally.

People don't lose weight by chance.

Never have I have ever stepped on the scale and said, "Oh my, I lost 10 pounds this month. How did that happen?" I always know what has happened.

Weight loss is a mental game.

It's not about the food.

It's not about the exercise.

It's not about the grocery list that I ignore, or the trips to Quick Trip for a drink, or stopping by Sonic for an ice cream. It's about the mental state that I'm in when I do those things.

For a long time, I've felt that food has some sort of power over me. It has the power to make me happy, feel loved, soothe my hurt feelings, intoxicate me, placate me, entertain me, and so much more. I've really felt that it was the food doing that. But, I know it's not. It can't be. Food is just food. It just is. It doesn't love me like I love it. It doesn't sit around dreaming of me, like I do of it. It doesn't eagerly anticipate our next meeting, or hope that our time together will be a beautiful moment that we'll treasure forever. All of that, is me. Me and my mind, making something more out of food than it is.

It's just food.

I have to realize that it's just food. All the other stuff, the touchy-feely roller coaster of emotions that go along with eating - that's all me. Me, and my brain, making more out of food than it really is. It's just food.

Now, I realize that I can write this, as if I'm being very pragmatically impartial about the whole thing. As if I've gotten over it. Like food no longer has any sway over me.

Ha! That's not me at all.

The fact of the matter is, I still feel loved, soothed, placated, satiated, and entertained by food. I'm just starting to accept responsibility. It's ME that's causing these feelings. The food is just a conduit by which they arrive.

So, if food is still capable of being so much more to me than merely fuel, what do I do about that? That's been a question that I haven't been able to answer for a long time.

During Weight Watcher's meetings I'd sometimes hear people say something like, "You can try loosing weight for other people, but in the end, it needs to be about you. You have to do it for yourself."

I've tried losing weight for myself. Know what I found out? I'm a very forgiving person. Want to take a couple weeks off? No problem! Want to forget tracking all together? Sure, you go right on ahead and do that.

Trying to lose weight for me didn't work. I don't think it's because I don't love myself enough. I do love myself. It's just that losing weight for me isn't a big motivator.

And I think that's okay.

Other times I'd hear people say a phrase that completely baffled me at the time. These people would always be in the middle of losing weight. They weren't plateaued, they weren't playing around, they were committed, and the program was working for them. They'd say, "Quitting isn't an option."

Why? I'd think. Why wasn't quitting an option for them? It was for me. I quit often. Sometimes daily. What was it that had happened to them, or for them, that made it no longer an option?

I can't answer that. I think that's something they'd have to answer for themselves. I know that when I try to do the program, track my food, and follow the WW plan, that whenever I do it just for myself, that quitting is ALWAYS an option. It's not a good option, but it's still an option.

However, with our recent trip to the pediatrician, and finding out what I'd allowed to happen to my children, I found a reason to finally say, "Quitting isn't an option." I can't quit, because I have to help my kids. I have model a healthy lifestyle for them. I have to ensure they live in a healthy environment. I have to be around long enough to see them become healthy adults. It's not an option to quit this time. It's not an option to fail, either.

I don't mean that to say that I can't have bumps in the road. I know there will be plenty of bumps. I had one just yesterday at my niece's birthday party. There was a vast array of different flavored cupcakes available, and a whole lot of leftovers. Had there been only one choice, I probably would have had only one cupcake. Maybe two.

I had four.
Peanut butter.
Pineapple upside down cake.
Apple pie.
And Oreo.

You would have eaten four also. You know you would have.
After I'd eaten them, I suddenly realized that I was trying REALLY HARD to stay in control. How was eating four cupcakes going to help me stay in control? That was a bump in the road. And later that day, tracking those four cupcakes was really hard. I didn't want to be honest about them. I didn't want to count all those points. But, I did. Because quitting isn't an option. They used up a good portion of my daily points, and I had to be very conscious about what I ate for dinner that night. So, I had a moment of momentary forgetfulness, where I forgot my reason for trying so hard. But the moment I remembered, I reigned myself back in and got right back on track.

Go, me.

I've tracked consistently, nearly every single day for the past 3 weeks. I don't think I've EVER been so faithful to tracking. I've heard over-and-over how tracking what you eat is the #1 success indicator of people  who lose weight and keep it off. I don't know why I've bucked against it so much in the past. I'm hoping it becomes more and more second nature to me.

It seems to have helped, though. I lost another 2.2 lbs this week. That makes 8.6 pounds gone over the past three weeks, since our visit with the nutritionist and the kids' doctor. I am starting to see a few changes. I think I don't look quite as pregnant as before. Although my youngest was born more than two years ago, I've looked like I'm pregnant ever since. A few weeks ago, I'd say that I looked about 7 months pregnant. Now, I'd say I'm closer to 5 or 6 months. Hopefully, the fat baby will continue to shrink away. I'm ready to not look pregnant anymore.

If you're struggling, like I struggle. I hope you, too, can find your reason for why quitting isn't an option. It helps to have something to hold onto when your brain is telling you how good something will taste, or how marvelous it will make you feel. My kids are my anchor. What's yours?

The Power of Guilt

Ever since we found out that my kiddos' BMI is too high, we've been making some big changes in our house.

The kids' plates are filled 1/2 full with veggies. 1/4 with brown rice, or other starch. 1/4 with a lean meat. My plate looks exactly like theirs. That wasn't too big of a change. We just increased the amount of veggies, and decreased the amount of rice. So far, so good.

We've brought the kids' lunches/dinners/snacks when being babysat by family members, and have limited all artificially-flavored drinks and juices. Family members don't always get that, but so far, they've been respectful of our "water only" policy for the kids.

We have a few birthday events coming up, and even though they're not potlucks, we're still bringing our kids some veggies and fruit so they don't just eat pizza and junk. It may not be kosher to bring your own kids' food to a birthday party, but people are just going to have to be okay with it. I'm sure I'm more worried about hurting other people's feelings than they're concerned with us bringing in food.

I've been changing what I eat myself, too. It's so much a change in the WHAT, as it is in the HOW MUCH. Writing it all down, and logging it on my Weight Watchers tracker has really helped. I've lost 6.4 lbs. over the past 2 weeks.

I keep telling myself that I don't have the option anymore of not doing this the right way. I've given myself the option of quitting and giving up in the past, but now, it's just not even there as a choice. I HAVE to do this for my kids. I HAVE to do this for my girls' health. I HAVE to do this for our future. It's no longer an option to not try, or to be forgetful, or willfully inaccurate in my tracking. This is a MUST DO, and I don't get the option of allowing myself to fail anymore.

Guilty As Charged

Today's post is less with the funny, and more with the cold, hard truth. Fair warning.

It's not too hard to ignore what I've done to myself with my weight. If I work hard at it, I can ignore my thighs rubbing together, or how difficult it is to push myself up off the couch, and how uncomfortable my feet are after swelling up to twice their normal size after sitting for a few hours. I can push that stuff aside for the most part, and ignore what I've done to myself, and what future lies ahead for me if I continue living a life of gluttony.

One thing I can not ignore, though, is what I've done to my children, and the guilt that it invokes.

Last week, I took the munchkins to the doctor, and was told that my oldest's BMI was too high. The doctor recommended having her talk to the nutritionist. We made an appointment for today and my husband took the day off so that he could attend the meeting as well.

I've been dreading this meeting all week long.
See, I know who is to blame for my daughter's weight gain.
It's me.
I can't place the blame on the shoulders of a seven-year-old, nor can I place it on anyone else. I'm the one responsible for what she eats, even when she's not with me and is spending the day with family or at the babysitter's. It's ultimately up to me what goes into her mouth 95% of the time.

I've been wrestling with that guilt all week long.

I know what it's like to be a fat kid.
I don't want that for my own daughters.
I don't want to start them out battling their weight.
I want to give them healthy starts, at a normal weight.

And so, I feel the guilt. But, I'm happy to shoulder it. If it will help me to change my habits, so that I can change the habits that have gotten us to this point, then I say Pile on the guilt!

We've already made some changes around out house. We eat very clean inside our house: lots of fruit and veggies, whole grains, lean meats, very little sweets - but it's when we're not home that has been hard for us to control. Eating out, trips to the gas station to get a drink for mom and a slushie for her, family events where the only vegetable is potato salad - these are the things we're going to be more careful of and change.

Fast food is being cut to as little as possible.
Taking a sack lunch when being babysat at someone else's house.
No more than 1/2 cup of 100% juice in a day.
No more side trips to get a drink, even if Mommy is really thirsty.
Bringing veggies, fruit, or a healthy dessert to family get-togethers...even if it wasn't requested.

These are some changes we're going to make in our house. Or rather, when we're not in our house.

Even my parents are on board. I talked with them about checking the nutritional label with her, when she's reaching for a snack and being careful to dole out only one serving. They're all for it, and for not stopping by and picking up a Happy Meal. They're even willing to stop bringing chips to family get-togethers, so she won't have to face that temptation.

I was so proud of them, and how incredibly supportive they're being.

So, I think the guilt is good. I'm not wallowing in it, but I'm going to allow it be the catalyst for some changes. Beginning with me.

Marks of Accomplishment

It's Saturday.

I could have slept in.

I wanted to sleep in. Really, really wanted to sleep in.

But, I didn't.

My good friend, Audra, was waiting for me to get out of bed, get dressed, and head out to the park to walk at 6:30 this morning.

I hate her.

Alright, that's not really true at all. I love her dearly. Really, who else is willing to get up early on a Saturday and walk three miles with me. I don't see a lot of other volunteers raising their hands. She's a peach, and I love her. Just not at 6:30 in the morning.

Three miles. Did you catch that? We walked three miles this morning, quite possibly before you had even rolled yourself out of bed. And though I hate exercising (really, really, really hate it - I think I've been over that enough by now, so I'll move on), it was a good feeling when we were done. Let me clarify. My body wasn't feeling good. My body was feeling sore and achy, quite possibly very angry at me. But, knowing that I had accomplished something to help me be a healthier person, that was a good feeling.

So, when I got home this morning after my three mile walk (I think I may rub that in for awhile longer), I jumped out of my walking clothes and into the shower, but not before...

THE EXAMINATION.

Yep, the examination. It happens every time after I walk. As I peel the layers of clothes off of me, I inspect each piece for marks of accomplishment.

I turn every individual piece of clothing around and around, under the light, and look for the tell-tale badge of honor: sweat marks.

First my t-shirt. Ah, moist sweat marks on the back. Good. Good. Even a little on the front. I must have been really sweaty this morning, then. Signs that I have worked hard and accomplished much.

Next, my pants. Navy blue sweats can be difficult on initial inspection, but after a few moments, I notice a darker shade of blue, and there it is: crotch sweat. Ooh, and some butt sweat, too. I must have been walking up a storm.

Then, my bra. Yes, there it is. Undeniable proof of boob sweatage. Work has been done here, people!

Finally, my panties. These are the most difficult of all to inspect critically, especially if they're granny panties in white. Sometimes they're too loose to collect any evidence. I'm lucky today, because I wore my gray panties. Evidence of my hard work is easy to see. In fact, they're nearly so sweaty that I could wring them out in the sink. Gross? Yes. Impressive? Absolutely!

Surely it can't just be me that goes through this ritual after exercising. Let me know I'm not alone here. Let me know if you collect marks of accomplishment, too.

Pros and Cons

Today was weigh-in day at Weight Watchers.

It wasn't pretty.

I worked my butt off this week, but all of the eating out that I did on vacation could not be easily undone. I gained 3.5 pounds.

Yuck.

I was not too happy, but I wasn't too surprised, either. I ate crap all week long. That's what vacation is, - don't you know - a chance to eat every unhealthy, deep fried, covered in butter, with a side of au jus, food item that you can possibly eat. Because, I'll probably never be at this restaurant again. I should really try their yummiest (calorie-rich) thing on the menu, or I'll forever regret it. That's how my whole week was like on vacation. And now, I get to deal with the consequences of that. Three point five pounds of consequences.

Looking back on this last week, the week of post-vacation redemption, I didn't do too bad. Other than the weekend, I tracked what I ate everyday, and I stayed within my points. Here's to trying to do it again this week, as well.

I've added up my Weight Watcher points for the day, and tracked them online. I feel like a rock star! An overweight rockstar with a food addiction, but a rock star nonetheless.

Today I've been pondering heavily on whether or not I want to go forward with gastric bypass. I think I do. There's a lot of fear there, though, so I thought I'd do a comparison of going through with gastric bypass vs. continuing trying to lose with with Weight Watchers, or some other type of non-surigical lifestyle change.

If I Continue with Weight Watchers (and don't have the surgery)

• I can eat whatever I want, I just have to count the points.
• I'm familiar with the program; I don't have to learn anything new
• I don't have to suffer the difficulties of preparing for surgery, or the unpleasant side effects that can accompany gastric bypass (i.e. dumping)
• I know I can lose weight on the program, because I've done it before; I know it works
• I can quit at any time
• No scary surgery
• BUT, it's all up to my level of motivation and sticktoitness to be successful
• It's easy to cheat
• It costs $40/month, and I feel like it's such a waste when I'm not losing weight
• In the 10+ years of me being on WW, then off, then on again, I've never lost enough weight to make it to goal, nor have I ever kept the weight off. 
• I'm still morbidly obese, even though I'm a WW member. 

If I Go Through with Gastric Bypass Surgery

• I run the risk of complications, and all the scary stuff that could happen during any type of surgery (i.e. death!)
• It could end up being expensive - if something goes wrong
• It's not something I can just stop if I don't want to do it anymore. 
• I may not be able to eat some kinds of foods, perhaps ever, if my body doesn't adjust to them after the sugery
• I'd have to learn a completely different way of eating, and eat very particular kinds of food to ensure I get enough protein every day
• I'd have to take vitamins every day for the rest of my life
• I'd have to be super careful about what types of medications I take
• BUT...there's a 65% success rate for gastric bypass patients keeping their weight off for good. I don't think Weight Watchers can boast that. And most patients lose about 70% of their extra fat from the surgery alone
• It would force me to change my lifestyle for a long time - resulting in drastic weight loss
• It's not something that I can cheat on as easily (though I'm sure it can be done eventually), again, the dumping *shudder*

There's pros and cons to both, of course.
But, I think if I'm left to my own devices, my own motivation, then in 10 years I'll probably be the same situation. Only 5% of obese people are able to lose enough weight to be at a healthy range, and then keep it off, through diet and exercise alone. I'd love to think that I'm part of that 5%, but experience shows that I'm more likely on the other side of that statistic.

The bottom line is, what will make me more healthy?
What will keep me around for my kids the longest?
What is the best choice for my future and my family?

Lots to think about.

It's Not Easy Being Fat

It's easy to get fat, but it sure isn't easy living a fat person's life.

I was reminded of this again today when I took my two kiddos out to a beautiful children's farm and playground.

There were slides and tractors and fun playground equipment for the kids to play on, and inevitably, get stuck on. Then it was up to me to climb up, if I could, and save them from the impending peril of actually going down the slide, or climbing off the tractor.

I was terrified I was going to break something. I'm not afraid to get dirty, or be silly with my kids. I am, however, afraid of breaking a wooden playground set into tiny, splintery pieces and making children cry by accidentally landing on them. None of that happened; it's just a fear of mine, and it hampers what I allow myself to do with my kids.

Thank goodness I don't have to tie these. I
don't think I'd survive. I'd probably pass
out first. Can you imagine the 911 call?
"This lady isn't breathing. She was
trying to tie a pair of hightops, and
it was too much for her."

The other day my oldest daughter bought a beautiful butterfly decoration for her bedroom. She used her own money to purchase it after we visited a butterfly house in St. Louis. It took 3 days for me to get my courage up enough to climb on top of her three-foot tall dresser to put it up, because I was sure I was going to break it. Thankfully, the dresser held. The butterflies are beautifully hung, and all is right with the world.

Bending over isn't easy for a fat person, either.
When my youngest daughter's sandal comes unbuckled I invariably hear, "Mama! Shoe!" and I know I'm going to need to find a place to sit her up, or sit me down. Today I could find neither, and I had to suck in a huge breath, and try to get her shoe buckled before I needed to breathe again. Fat cuts off the respiratory system when you bend over. It took me three tries to get her little sandal velcroed back so she could go play.

And right now as I type this, my ankles are so swollen that I can barely flex my feet. It's painful, and frustrating, and I'm ready to be done with this.

It's Gettin' All Serious Up in Here

I pledge to tell the truth - the whole, ugly, embarrassing truth, so help me, God.

...

Maybe.

...

Mostly.

...

Let's just see how this honesty thing goes.

At the end of June, I had my yearly physical and blood test. I have to check in with my doctor every month, for six months, for my insurance to pay for bariatric surgery. One of the fun hoops I get to jump through as a possible bariatric surgery candidate. I'm not 100% sure about having the surgery, but I figure I can at least get the doctor visits out of the way, in case I do go with the surgery.

So, after my blood results came back, I learned that my bad cholesterol was too high, the good cholesterol was too low, and my blood sugar was a little elevated. And for the second visit in a row, my blood pressure was high, a problem I've never had before. Doc was concerned. He's giving me three months to make changes and see if I can get my blood pressure back to normal without medication.

I think my body is telling me something.

I think it's telling me, "Hey, lady. We've been holding on now for a long time, but we just can't fight the forces of nature, chemistry, and gravity. The knees are about to give up, permanently. Ankles and hips are also about to rebel into all out war. You gotta do something here. Heart and liver are thinking of joining rebel forces. It's just a matter of time before someone fires the first shot. Call a truce already!"

I think my wardrobe is telling me something.

I have no pants or shorts that fit. I had to make a run to the fat girl section of Wal-Mart to find a pair of capris that I could wear on vacation. Size 26. I've only been a size 26 while pregnant. I've had to revert to wearing my granny panties that have been stuffed into the back of my drawer since the last time I had a baby - 2 years ago. When I tried on the capris in the dressing room, I tried to cry quietly so the Wal-Mart associates wouldn't hear. I think they figured it out anyway.

I think my scale is telling me something.

It's hit an all-time, non-pregnancy high. Yesterday, I stepped on it to see what the damage was now that we're back from vacation. I've gained at least ten pounds. The scale read 294. Only six pounds away from 300. Three hundred pounds. I nearly weigh three hundred pounds. How can I weigh almost three hundred pounds? When did that become okay with me?

I'm at that point where I need to make a choice.

If I keep it up, I'll be well on my way towards looking
like this guy. Daniel Lambert weighed over 700
pounds when he died at 39 years old. If I keep it up,
I'll be lucky to live as long as he did. Time to
make some changes around here.

Either I say "screw it" to trying to lose weight, and just give in. I get fatter and fatter, buy a new wardrobe, and start my morning out with a glass of water and a variety of multi-colored pills to keep my blood pressure and blood sugar down. I live the rest of my life with bloated, swollen feet and knees that constantly ache. I stop getting down on the floor to play with my kids because it hurts too much to try to climb back up. I stop buying shoes with laces because I can't tie them. I start balancing my plate on my belly, because it's too far away if I leave it on the table. I eat, and eat, and eat whatever I want until it kills me.

Or...

I do what I know I need to do.

I follow the WW plan. I track my food. All of it. Every bite. I exercise daily. I don't settle for what tastes good now, but think of how I will FEEL good later. I take pounds of pressure off my knees and joints. I get back into the clothes hanging in my closet. I play with my kids. Really play with them, until I'm breathless, and then play some more. I buy a new wardrobe because all my other clothes are too big. I enjoy my life. I enjoy being thin. I enjoy my health. And I live.

I like that second option so much better.
I think I'm going to go with that.

So, for today, I have chosen option #2.
I walked 2 miles in the pre-dawn hours.
I tracked everything that went into my mouth today, even when I wasn't proud of it.
I stayed within my WW points.
I played with my kids.
I got down on the floor, and back up again, even though it hurt a little bit.
I did what I needed to do to be successful today.

Now just to rinse and repeat until it's a habit.