Thursday, September 13, 2012

How Important Is Cheesy Goodness?



Day 11

That’s it? Day 11? WTF? I haven’t been doing this long enough to get my rhythm right much less be sick of it. But here I am sick of it already. Sick of the weighing AND the measuring. Sick of peeing constantly. Sick of my dry hands and cuticles because of all the hand washing, you know, because of the peeing. I do not want a salad with grilled chicken for lunch. I want a grilled cheese sandwich from the amazing Gorilla Cheese food truck. I work at a University and there are food trucks ALL OVER, each one better than the next. This week has not been so good, no binges, but just not as careful as I should be. Just not as careful as I have been. I’ve hardly had any water. The thing is we haven’t been doing this very long. Just about 3 weeks. I haven’t weighed myself this week, but there was a brownie incident on Monday. I ate one.  The thing that kills me is that, after 2 bites, I didn’t want it anymore. So why then, did I shovel it down? I can’t help but feel like if I knew why food was my drug then I would be able to conquer it.  Right now I just feel like my grasp on the control that I do have is tenuous at best. 

I know this for fact. While I am sick and tired of weighing and measuring and thinking about what I am going to eat. I am way more sick and tired of feeling and looking like this. I do not want to be one of those people who are willing to “forgive” themselves for (time and time again) not following their plan. Listen, sometimes when Al gets on them, I cringe a little bit and think, ‘Yeesh, he’s mean’. While I don’t feel to call people out, he totally has a point. What the fuck have you been doing for 2, 3, 6 years now? Frankly, the hell with them, what the fuck have I been doing? Answer: Nothing good. I’ve been giving up, or “forgiving” myself. I have been ‘deciding to love myself’ into an early grave.  I’ve been telling myself that it is ok if I eat this fried chicken or that ice cream. It is decidedly NOT ok.  It’s not ok that I am this heavy. It’s not ok that I take blood pressure medication. It’s not ok that the men who do look at me are chubby chasers. It is not ok that I have to shop in the “woman’s” department. I’m going to this conference next week and feel like I would like a few new things. It would be great to pop over to any of the many stores that are around here, but I can’t. There is no fat girl store in the fashionable West Village. 

I was thinking this morning about what it would be like to not be an obese person. What would it be like to just be normal? How it would feel to not need a seat extender. How it would feel to not be self conscious at the beach or pool. How it would feel to be labeled as lazy or slovenly. How would it feel to just eat what I need and keep it moving after that?

Last week, there was talk in the news about a new study which says that women who are overweight have an increased risk of not only, returning breast cancer but also death. So let me see… if you are fatty you have to grapple with diabetes, heart disease and increased likelihood of cancer and death. Awesome.  Oh and let us not forget the social stigma of being overweight. People stare at you and judge you. They do.  I’m tired of hating myself and feeling bad about what I look like. What I look like does not represent what I would like the world to see when they look at me. More importantly I would like to look at myself and feel really good about the reflection. I want my outside to match my inside. I know there is a more exciting, vibrant, energetic person in here somewhere.  

*Lightblub/duh stupid moment* The chance to feel good about me is worth more than the temporary buttery, cheesy, crispiness of a grilled cheese sandwich.   I know that I know this. I just need to implement it on a regular basis. 

Answer: Cheesy goodness ain't so important. 

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Day 8/Week 2


Today is Day 8/Week 2

Next week I’m taking my car, Blanche, to the shop for general maintenance. While there I’ll have good old Blanche detailed etc.  This weekend I decided that I should do a little pre cleaning before handing it over to the guys.  You never know what you leave in your car and I don’t want to embarrass myself. I found the usual change, receipts and random umbrella. I also found a few magazines with articles I had been meaning to tear out, but hadn’t.  Most importantly embarrassingly, I found countless McDonald’s ice cream cone wrappers.  Since May or so, I have been going to the Mickey D’s drive through, sometimes as often as twice a day, and “treating myself” to a vanilla cone. I don’t normally get the burgers although I found a few receipts saying that I have.  I don’t know why I love them so much, but I just do. First and second they are tasty and cheap. Thirdly, and I know that I am fooling myself by saying this, but they are under 200 calories per cone.  Sigh. Maybe it is true that a McDonalds ice cream cone is under 200. But that’s only when you have one, and occasionally at that. Not twice a day fat ass.  So summer over, challenge on, ice cream cone banished.  I can eat something that makes sense for 200 calories. Jerk.

Last week was our first week in challenge mode.  I did ok. 4 lbs down. I had a few missteps that annoy me. They were rookie mistakes. When you’ve been overweight more most of your life, you’ve also tried and succeeded.  Point is, I am no ones Rookie.  I got my hair done on Thursday.  I got there at 11 and didn’t leave till 3.  I went there with no snacks and no water. Foolish!  It is a 4 hour visit (Yes, every time). I know how long it takes me when I go, I should have brought food with me.  I didn’t. Instead when I finally had access to food, I shoveled in my mouth so fast and that I’m not sure what I ate. I also was a big slacker on the water. I wanted to do better because, **TMI ALERT:  Cousin Red is coming to visit and I never lose weight that week, EVER. If I’m loosey goosey then I gain for sure. If I’m following my program, I may not gain, but I still won’t lose. It often corrects itself the following week, but it’s always frustrating and threatens to derail me.  

This weekend I really noticed is how fat people eat all the time and stuff that’s bad for them. I had lunch with my friend and her daughter who is about 4.  She picked the place “Planet Wings” so I told her that I didn’t care as long as I could  get a salad. Sure enough, I ordered the salad with grilled chicken and dressing on the side. She ordered the wings, fries and soda for herself and her kid.  I don’t care about the wings so much but , I would be lying to you and myself if said those fries didn't look good.  But I ate my salad and was fine. We went to IKEA right after lunch. When we got there she said she wanted to eat, again. She got a dish of Mac and Cheese and got her kid the chicken nuggets and fries.  I wasn’t hungry (BECAUSE WE HAD JUST EATEN) and got some water.  While on line at the IKEA, she got a chocolate bar.  We went back to her house and she made brownies then proceeded to eat again. This time I did eat, because it was dinner time and I was hungry. (Grilled chicken, grilled veggies and salad. I opted to skip the potato salad and the rice) She often complains about how fat she is and how much she hates it. Listen, I have done the exact same thing, eaten without abandon only to complain about how fat I am. I’m learning that you just can’t have it both ways.