It was a beautiful morning this morning. Bright blue sky, sun shining, a fresh breeze. I had a dentist appointment; just the regular six-month check-up. I decided to walk; it's only about 25 minutes away, and it's good to get some exercise.
Hair freshly washed, I donned some nice clothes - black trousers, black silky undershirt, white fitted shirt, black thin choker, big hoop earrings. (I've discovered, incidentally, that black under white is a very nice look). I started walking, listening to my ipod. Half way there, there was a cab pulling out of the driveway in front of me. I wasn't really looking at the cab driver, I was just listening to my music but then he caught my eye and smiled/nodded. So I smiled back, then went on my way.
Then he drove up behind me and spent the next five minutes trying to persuade me to go out with him. He was cute, young, not gross like some cab drivers who seem to think you'll want to date them even when they're clearly twenty years older than you. I smiled and kept walking, he kept pursuing. Eventually he gave me his phone number, and managed to wrangle my name out of me - but not my number.
I'm not going to call him. I'm not being a snob, honestly, but I can't see myself with a cab driver. Not for reasons of prestige, or class, but of common interest/intellect/intelligence. And I'm not one to be interested in 'a bit of fun'. It's just not me. Still, it was flattering, and nice. Put more of a spring in my step.
Then I got to the dentist - I had an appointment with the hygienist, then the dentist. Hygienist, female, starts with compliments on my appearance, and asks how I do it, whether I'm in the gym all the time. Nope, says I, but I eat low-carb. A short discussion on that, with her doing most of the talking, since by that point she's got her equipment in my mouth. When we finish up, and she says she'll see me again in six months, she says something along the lines of "don't go getting any thinner!". I say, well, twenty pounds, maybe fifteen, I hope. She replies "ok, fifteen, maybe, but definitely not twenty."
Quite amazing to think I'm that close to goal that people would tell me I don't need to lose any more weight.
Then I have my appointment with the dentist - male, married, attractive, mildly flirtatious. He starts off with telling me I'm looking good. I tell him he does too. He makes a comment on how nice it is to start the day complimenting each other, and having made each other smile, he's off to work checking out my teeth. He finds a small cavity - so I'll be going back in a couple weeks to get that sorted out.
Then I walked home. Catching quite a few second looks from men I walked past.
It really is a very nice, very fitted white shirt.
Incidentally, the scale is continuing to be recalcitrant. In the two weeks that I've been dieting hard, I've gone from 153.2, down to 151.8, back up to 155, down to 152.2, and then this morning, up to 153.8 again. Averaging 1200 calories a day, with no splurges or carbs. I'm in mid-cycle, so that might account for the current spike; that does happen to me sometimes. I'm trying not to let it get to me, and telling myself to keep track of what I *should* now weigh, given the calorie deficit I'm in (151.2 by now), and my body will catch on eventually. It's happened before - I'm a plateau and whoosh kind of gal.
The kind of experiences I've had today do make it easier to deal with the frustrations of the scale.
There are pages more I could write about this ugly duckling turned almost swan, and I will, and they will be hard, painful posts...but right now I just wanted to record today's events, with a smile - and get back to work.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Vagaries of the Metal Monster
Sometimes I flipping hate the scale.
I'm almost done with week two of my cutting calories as well as carbs effort. Week one ended well; once all the carbs were out of my system I weighed in at 153.4, and by the end of week one I was at 151.8. A decent result for 5 days of very low cal eating. Then I went away for the weekend; always dangerous BUT I was angelic. I ate only what I should have eaten; when I got home and fitdayed my stuff I'd stayed well under maintenance calories both days. But on Sunday the scale was up to 155. For no reason whatsoever. I expect a jump like that if I'm carbed up, but I wasn't. TOM was not on the way. No bloody reason at all. And I've spent the last few days trying to get back to where I was last friday, even though I'm *not* needing to buckle under after a splurge. There was no splurge. This morning I'm still half a pound up from where I was six days ago, despite the fact I've continued to eat at around 1200/1300 cals a day. I should be rights be down to 151 now, not at 152.4
I know that I shouldn't pay attention on a day to day basis; that it's week to week and month to month that matter, and the scale will fluctuate in annoying ways for no apparent reason. It still pisses me off. It's not a hardship for me to eat low carb, generally. But I do resent having to count calories too, if I don't see the results. Tonight I'm going out for dinner, and I just started trying to work out what the calories could be in the roquefort salad I usually get as a virtuous meal in that particular restaurant. Too high, is what they'd be. So I'll probably go for something else; or actually eat dinner before I go, and just get a soup or something.
I just don't believe in the 'purity' of that calories in/calories out equation - not after five years of low-carb, and other experiences of dieting before that. Example. When I was 22, I stuck to Weightwatchers for about a year. I managed to struggle down from about 210 to 175 in that time, eating what must have been around 1400/1500 calories a day. Then my mum introduced me to a book called 'The Carbohydrate Addicts Diet'. I read it with interest, since it was so obvious to me that I was a carb addict. I figured I'd give it a try. I was sooo sick of starving myself, and the carb addict diet said I could have a meal of whatever I wanted once a day! I set to with relish. And although I managed to be moderate for the first few days, I was quickly bingeing for that one hour 'reward' meal. I ate everything I'd been denying myself for a year, everything that I'd been craving. In one meal, I could eat a burger and chips, chocolate, ice cream, crisps... or a huge bowl of pasta, also accompanied by crisps, chocolate, etc.
I must have upped my calories - no exaggeration - by at least 2,000 a day. Possibly more.
What happened? During the two or three months I stuck to the diet, I didn't lose any weight. But I didn't gain any either. I probably tripled, even quadrupled my daily calorie intake, having been in almost starvation mode for a year, and I didn't put on weight. That's as pure a refutation as calories in/calories out that I've ever seen.
I gave up on the diet after a while because I wasn't losing weight. And because it was difficult to do at the time, with my particular lifestyle (and I was less skilled at cooking then, too). Tried all kinds of other things that didn't work either, and that just had me putting on weight until I was up to 250lbs about two years later. I always thought of that diet as a good way to maintain, since I hadn't put on weight, but since I needed to lose, I didn't think of doing it again for a long, long time. Why I went back to it is the subject of another post.
This post was just about the bloody scale. And that calorie intake vs expenditure just not working as *simply* as it is rumoured to. If it did, I'd have been at goal years ago. I've been doing this for five years now, and I'm still in the 'overweight' category according to my BMI. Only by a few pounds, but still. I could reconcile myself, almost easily, to having to stay low-carb for life. To being ever-vigilant, ever-different to other people. If only I was AT my goal weight. To struggle just to stay 20 pounds *heavier* than I want to be, after five years of sustained effort, well that's just not fair.
But then, life's just not fair, is it?
And I can't let this stop my efforts in calorie cutting or strictness. Because giving up certainly won't help either, will it? So I'm staying vigilant, and I'm staying low-cal, low-carb. I'm going away to friends for shabbat this week, and I've already spoken to them about the menu so I know there should be food that's good for me, even if I can't control calories one hundred percent.
Maybe on sunday there won't be another unexplained weight spike, and then I'll feel better.
I'm still thinner than I've ever been since I was 13 years old. I need to focus on that.
I'm almost done with week two of my cutting calories as well as carbs effort. Week one ended well; once all the carbs were out of my system I weighed in at 153.4, and by the end of week one I was at 151.8. A decent result for 5 days of very low cal eating. Then I went away for the weekend; always dangerous BUT I was angelic. I ate only what I should have eaten; when I got home and fitdayed my stuff I'd stayed well under maintenance calories both days. But on Sunday the scale was up to 155. For no reason whatsoever. I expect a jump like that if I'm carbed up, but I wasn't. TOM was not on the way. No bloody reason at all. And I've spent the last few days trying to get back to where I was last friday, even though I'm *not* needing to buckle under after a splurge. There was no splurge. This morning I'm still half a pound up from where I was six days ago, despite the fact I've continued to eat at around 1200/1300 cals a day. I should be rights be down to 151 now, not at 152.4
I know that I shouldn't pay attention on a day to day basis; that it's week to week and month to month that matter, and the scale will fluctuate in annoying ways for no apparent reason. It still pisses me off. It's not a hardship for me to eat low carb, generally. But I do resent having to count calories too, if I don't see the results. Tonight I'm going out for dinner, and I just started trying to work out what the calories could be in the roquefort salad I usually get as a virtuous meal in that particular restaurant. Too high, is what they'd be. So I'll probably go for something else; or actually eat dinner before I go, and just get a soup or something.
I just don't believe in the 'purity' of that calories in/calories out equation - not after five years of low-carb, and other experiences of dieting before that. Example. When I was 22, I stuck to Weightwatchers for about a year. I managed to struggle down from about 210 to 175 in that time, eating what must have been around 1400/1500 calories a day. Then my mum introduced me to a book called 'The Carbohydrate Addicts Diet'. I read it with interest, since it was so obvious to me that I was a carb addict. I figured I'd give it a try. I was sooo sick of starving myself, and the carb addict diet said I could have a meal of whatever I wanted once a day! I set to with relish. And although I managed to be moderate for the first few days, I was quickly bingeing for that one hour 'reward' meal. I ate everything I'd been denying myself for a year, everything that I'd been craving. In one meal, I could eat a burger and chips, chocolate, ice cream, crisps... or a huge bowl of pasta, also accompanied by crisps, chocolate, etc.
I must have upped my calories - no exaggeration - by at least 2,000 a day. Possibly more.
What happened? During the two or three months I stuck to the diet, I didn't lose any weight. But I didn't gain any either. I probably tripled, even quadrupled my daily calorie intake, having been in almost starvation mode for a year, and I didn't put on weight. That's as pure a refutation as calories in/calories out that I've ever seen.
I gave up on the diet after a while because I wasn't losing weight. And because it was difficult to do at the time, with my particular lifestyle (and I was less skilled at cooking then, too). Tried all kinds of other things that didn't work either, and that just had me putting on weight until I was up to 250lbs about two years later. I always thought of that diet as a good way to maintain, since I hadn't put on weight, but since I needed to lose, I didn't think of doing it again for a long, long time. Why I went back to it is the subject of another post.
This post was just about the bloody scale. And that calorie intake vs expenditure just not working as *simply* as it is rumoured to. If it did, I'd have been at goal years ago. I've been doing this for five years now, and I'm still in the 'overweight' category according to my BMI. Only by a few pounds, but still. I could reconcile myself, almost easily, to having to stay low-carb for life. To being ever-vigilant, ever-different to other people. If only I was AT my goal weight. To struggle just to stay 20 pounds *heavier* than I want to be, after five years of sustained effort, well that's just not fair.
But then, life's just not fair, is it?
And I can't let this stop my efforts in calorie cutting or strictness. Because giving up certainly won't help either, will it? So I'm staying vigilant, and I'm staying low-cal, low-carb. I'm going away to friends for shabbat this week, and I've already spoken to them about the menu so I know there should be food that's good for me, even if I can't control calories one hundred percent.
Maybe on sunday there won't be another unexplained weight spike, and then I'll feel better.
I'm still thinner than I've ever been since I was 13 years old. I need to focus on that.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
being the cool aunt
something my niece said to me today is going to be the perfect segue into a post on the concept of retail therapy.
i have to say, i really like what i was wearing today. when i was in canada recently i bought a very cute black waistcoast (vest, for the americans/canadians reading). i have a long black flowy skirt from zara with beading on it, which i paired it with - together with a gorgeous sheer pale dusky pink shirt i have. the shirt has ruffles at the front, and long sleeves with flowy long cuffs. i had the silky ruffles falling from inside the lapels of the waistcoat; a feminine highwayman, if you please.
when my niece saw me this morning (i'm staying with them this shabbat) she exclaimed "i love love LOVE your clothes!" My niece is eight, nearly nine, and just about the most girly girl you can imagine. she likes clothes, and ballet, and barbies, and make-up. She is just about as far away from the nerdy bookworm I was at her age that it is possible to imagine (not because I was fat at her age, I wasn't. But I was a shy, awkward bookworm all the same).
My niece often compliments me on my clothes. In the same vein, one of my friends recently told me that she thinks I'm the best dresser she knows. I was almost rendered speechless by that compliment.
There is so much behind my reactions to things like that. Being the cool aunt that my pretty, girly niece admires. Being someone who is seen as cool or funky at all! If we go chronologically, then I'd say it's the nerdy little kid who was always bullied for being uncool that finds it quite amazing.
Then, of course, comes the fat, awkward teenager, who was never complimented on what she wore or what she looked like. okay, it was the eighties, but still. (and in fact, i cringe when i think of what i had to wear during the eighties even when i dieted and spent about six months at a kind of normal weight - baggy sweatshirts and leggings are not the ideal wardrobe for someone curvy like me. I need to accentuate my hourglass figure, or I just end up hiding my figure altogether.
But things just got worse after that. I lost weight briefly when I was sixteen during my first foray into weightwatchers, but by 17 it was all back on again. I felt like an alien when my friends would discuss what to buy where, where they'd found a particularly cute skirt/pair of trousers/top. When they'd pore over fashion magazines. I was an alien, let's face it. None of those clothes would have fit me. When I got to my all-time high of 250lbs...well, I don't even need to say it, do I.
If I'd done anything other than sink into myself when anyone mentioned the joys of retail therapy, it would have been to laugh bitterly. What did I know of retail therapy? Retail torture, more like. Every time I went to any mall, all I could do when I saw the shops with all their gorgeous trendy clothes would be to walk past, on my way to the one outsize shop that had sizes for elephants like me. Those shops were for people from other planets; it would be too humiliating to even walk in. I was sure that people in there would just look at me as if to say - what's she doing in here? Nothing in here will fit her.
My friends often tell me that even when I was very overweight I still looked good; that I dressed well, etc. (That I always had a pretty face, etc). And of course, I tried to buy nice clothes. Tried to select from the one or two shops that catered to my size the clothes that weren't made for grandmas. But actually going shopping...picking up clothes from the racks and taking them into the changing rooms to try them on? A very particular form of torture - from having to face what size I was picking off the rack, to having to look at myself in a full-length mirror. I didn't do that very often. I just felt loathing when I did. I wanted to recoil from myself. How can you escape, when it's your own body that you want to escape from? I often wonder what kind of stresses my body was under when I think of how I loathed it myself. Can your cells understand how much you are repulsed by them? How much you long to be someone else? Somone normal? Like all your friends, who can go into shops and get whatever they want?
As I lost weight, shopping for clothes gradually became easier. (It was damn expensive, going through approximately 7 clothing sizes, but oh so worth it!) At first it was just exciting to be buying smaller sizes, although I still didn't like the reflection in the mirror. I remember the time I first realised I could shop in regular shops, even though I was still buying the bigger sizes. As the sizes went down, the joy increased. It wasn't till I got to about 175lbs that I could look in the mirror with anything like approval, and really it wasn't till about 165lbs that I could really be relatively happy with what I saw. Oh, there are still flaws even now, at 152lbs, and it's still not perfectly easy to buy clothes - my waist is disproportionately small compared to butt/hips and so it's rare to find trousers/skirts that are truly flattering - but I buy a zillion and one tops.
I have a lot of clothes now - and that's all clothes that fit me, too. I've given away or sold an awful lot of clothes that I bought whilst my weight was on the way down. And I guess I know how to dress, too, since I get such compliments for being a good dresser/stylish/etc.
But the thing is, the real thing is, that I finally get what retail therapy is all about. Buying clothes really can make me feel better now.
It's still not always easy looking at myself in the mirror when I'm in the changing room. There are so many flaws; I've not finished losing the weight, and my body bears the scars of my battle with obesity, and short of plastic surgery they'll never go away. I've also discovered a truth that my more 'normal' friends always knew - that even 'normal' weight people carry their weight differently, and so different styles suit different people. There are some clothes I can't wear because they just don't suit my shape. But there are other clothes I can wear that wouldn't suit someone else. That's the way it is, and that's fine.
But now, when I go shopping, it's with real pleasure. I'm not looking for clothes to hide in, clothes that I'm constantly pulling at to make sure they're not clinging to unsightly bulges. I'm looking for clothes to accentuate my tiny waist, to highlight the hourglass. I'm seeing a defined jawline in the mirror. (I don't think I'll ever ever take my collarbone for granted; I just love the fact there are hollows now, and defined bones...)
When I go to the shops and find something that particularly suits me...well, the joy I feel is, I expect, beyond what any 'regular' person experiences when they think of retail therapy. There's so much more behind it; not least, of course, the memory that a few years ago I couldn't have done this at all. I'd have had to walk past those shops, feeling humiliated, feeling alienated... an outsider in so many ways. Verboten.
Even discussing the various clothes I pick up with sales assistants has lost its sting. I remember trying on a skirt a few months ago. It just wasn't flatternig; it gathered at the waistband, and the way it hung was just bad on me. The sales assistant agreed; said it wasn't flattering, made me look big. And I didn't feel hurt, didn't feel humiliated. It was true; it wasn't flattering on my figure. Didn't do anything for me. When I discuss sizes with the sales assistants, it's the same thing. There is no pain in saying that I'm a UK size 14 on the bottom, while usually a 10 on the top. Oh, there's still joy when I fit into a size 12, and I still can't quite believe I'm a 10 on top (unless we're talking button-down shirts - my bust size often makes a size 10 too small in those). And I still *want* to get down to a size 12 bottom. But there's no shame in what I am. It's just fact... it's better, actually - I worked to get this. I defeated considerable odds to get this. And if I do always see the flaws when I look in the mirror, I also see the positives. I can look damn good in clothes. Sexy, even. I am very curvy, and while that has its difficulties, it also has positives. I wear figure-hugging clothes now. I walk tall, most of the time, and feel good. I buy clothes. And more clothes. And more clothes. Sometimes I want to scream with joy when I try something on and it looks fantastic. This was not me, a few years ago. I spent years excluded from these joys that should belong to everyone.
I don't think I'll ever take it for granted.
i have to say, i really like what i was wearing today. when i was in canada recently i bought a very cute black waistcoast (vest, for the americans/canadians reading). i have a long black flowy skirt from zara with beading on it, which i paired it with - together with a gorgeous sheer pale dusky pink shirt i have. the shirt has ruffles at the front, and long sleeves with flowy long cuffs. i had the silky ruffles falling from inside the lapels of the waistcoat; a feminine highwayman, if you please.
when my niece saw me this morning (i'm staying with them this shabbat) she exclaimed "i love love LOVE your clothes!" My niece is eight, nearly nine, and just about the most girly girl you can imagine. she likes clothes, and ballet, and barbies, and make-up. She is just about as far away from the nerdy bookworm I was at her age that it is possible to imagine (not because I was fat at her age, I wasn't. But I was a shy, awkward bookworm all the same).
My niece often compliments me on my clothes. In the same vein, one of my friends recently told me that she thinks I'm the best dresser she knows. I was almost rendered speechless by that compliment.
There is so much behind my reactions to things like that. Being the cool aunt that my pretty, girly niece admires. Being someone who is seen as cool or funky at all! If we go chronologically, then I'd say it's the nerdy little kid who was always bullied for being uncool that finds it quite amazing.
Then, of course, comes the fat, awkward teenager, who was never complimented on what she wore or what she looked like. okay, it was the eighties, but still. (and in fact, i cringe when i think of what i had to wear during the eighties even when i dieted and spent about six months at a kind of normal weight - baggy sweatshirts and leggings are not the ideal wardrobe for someone curvy like me. I need to accentuate my hourglass figure, or I just end up hiding my figure altogether.
But things just got worse after that. I lost weight briefly when I was sixteen during my first foray into weightwatchers, but by 17 it was all back on again. I felt like an alien when my friends would discuss what to buy where, where they'd found a particularly cute skirt/pair of trousers/top. When they'd pore over fashion magazines. I was an alien, let's face it. None of those clothes would have fit me. When I got to my all-time high of 250lbs...well, I don't even need to say it, do I.
If I'd done anything other than sink into myself when anyone mentioned the joys of retail therapy, it would have been to laugh bitterly. What did I know of retail therapy? Retail torture, more like. Every time I went to any mall, all I could do when I saw the shops with all their gorgeous trendy clothes would be to walk past, on my way to the one outsize shop that had sizes for elephants like me. Those shops were for people from other planets; it would be too humiliating to even walk in. I was sure that people in there would just look at me as if to say - what's she doing in here? Nothing in here will fit her.
My friends often tell me that even when I was very overweight I still looked good; that I dressed well, etc. (That I always had a pretty face, etc). And of course, I tried to buy nice clothes. Tried to select from the one or two shops that catered to my size the clothes that weren't made for grandmas. But actually going shopping...picking up clothes from the racks and taking them into the changing rooms to try them on? A very particular form of torture - from having to face what size I was picking off the rack, to having to look at myself in a full-length mirror. I didn't do that very often. I just felt loathing when I did. I wanted to recoil from myself. How can you escape, when it's your own body that you want to escape from? I often wonder what kind of stresses my body was under when I think of how I loathed it myself. Can your cells understand how much you are repulsed by them? How much you long to be someone else? Somone normal? Like all your friends, who can go into shops and get whatever they want?
As I lost weight, shopping for clothes gradually became easier. (It was damn expensive, going through approximately 7 clothing sizes, but oh so worth it!) At first it was just exciting to be buying smaller sizes, although I still didn't like the reflection in the mirror. I remember the time I first realised I could shop in regular shops, even though I was still buying the bigger sizes. As the sizes went down, the joy increased. It wasn't till I got to about 175lbs that I could look in the mirror with anything like approval, and really it wasn't till about 165lbs that I could really be relatively happy with what I saw. Oh, there are still flaws even now, at 152lbs, and it's still not perfectly easy to buy clothes - my waist is disproportionately small compared to butt/hips and so it's rare to find trousers/skirts that are truly flattering - but I buy a zillion and one tops.
I have a lot of clothes now - and that's all clothes that fit me, too. I've given away or sold an awful lot of clothes that I bought whilst my weight was on the way down. And I guess I know how to dress, too, since I get such compliments for being a good dresser/stylish/etc.
But the thing is, the real thing is, that I finally get what retail therapy is all about. Buying clothes really can make me feel better now.
It's still not always easy looking at myself in the mirror when I'm in the changing room. There are so many flaws; I've not finished losing the weight, and my body bears the scars of my battle with obesity, and short of plastic surgery they'll never go away. I've also discovered a truth that my more 'normal' friends always knew - that even 'normal' weight people carry their weight differently, and so different styles suit different people. There are some clothes I can't wear because they just don't suit my shape. But there are other clothes I can wear that wouldn't suit someone else. That's the way it is, and that's fine.
But now, when I go shopping, it's with real pleasure. I'm not looking for clothes to hide in, clothes that I'm constantly pulling at to make sure they're not clinging to unsightly bulges. I'm looking for clothes to accentuate my tiny waist, to highlight the hourglass. I'm seeing a defined jawline in the mirror. (I don't think I'll ever ever take my collarbone for granted; I just love the fact there are hollows now, and defined bones...)
When I go to the shops and find something that particularly suits me...well, the joy I feel is, I expect, beyond what any 'regular' person experiences when they think of retail therapy. There's so much more behind it; not least, of course, the memory that a few years ago I couldn't have done this at all. I'd have had to walk past those shops, feeling humiliated, feeling alienated... an outsider in so many ways. Verboten.
Even discussing the various clothes I pick up with sales assistants has lost its sting. I remember trying on a skirt a few months ago. It just wasn't flatternig; it gathered at the waistband, and the way it hung was just bad on me. The sales assistant agreed; said it wasn't flattering, made me look big. And I didn't feel hurt, didn't feel humiliated. It was true; it wasn't flattering on my figure. Didn't do anything for me. When I discuss sizes with the sales assistants, it's the same thing. There is no pain in saying that I'm a UK size 14 on the bottom, while usually a 10 on the top. Oh, there's still joy when I fit into a size 12, and I still can't quite believe I'm a 10 on top (unless we're talking button-down shirts - my bust size often makes a size 10 too small in those). And I still *want* to get down to a size 12 bottom. But there's no shame in what I am. It's just fact... it's better, actually - I worked to get this. I defeated considerable odds to get this. And if I do always see the flaws when I look in the mirror, I also see the positives. I can look damn good in clothes. Sexy, even. I am very curvy, and while that has its difficulties, it also has positives. I wear figure-hugging clothes now. I walk tall, most of the time, and feel good. I buy clothes. And more clothes. And more clothes. Sometimes I want to scream with joy when I try something on and it looks fantastic. This was not me, a few years ago. I spent years excluded from these joys that should belong to everyone.
I don't think I'll ever take it for granted.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Small joys
I've got at least five posts sitting in my head waiting for me to find the time to write them down, and those are just the posts that I've pondered over the past week or two; they don't even include the "history of my weight loss" posts that i'm planning on detailing at some point.
life has taken over, i guess, briefly. but i'll be back. (and as a brief update, food is going great, i've got the carbs well and truly out of my system, and i'm now at 153lbs)
so what i actually popped in to share was one of those small, sweet joys that happen from time to time. leaving aside the true joys of retail therapy (a looong post) having lost weight, i'll just say that i had an appointment today, and once it was done, i paid a short visit to a couple of my favourite clothes shops to see if they had anything for me. i've got a wedding to go to in a month or so and i need a nice top to go with my 'wedding' skirt. anyway...i found a couple of nice things, and took them to the cash register to pay. the woman behind the till asked me whether i wanted a strappy top - one of those body-hugging lycra things that are just so indispensible as part of your wardrobe - to go underneath one of the tops i was buying. i actually had looked for just such a thing, but hadn't seen any. she said there were some, and that she'd go and find one for me. she looked at me, and asked me what size i needed, and as i hesitated, she said "small, right?"
what a difference five years makes. five years ago nothing in that shop would have fit me at all. now, the sales assistant is correct in her assessment that i need their smallest size! (i bought it - it fits perfectly and is just what i needed).
small joys that aren't really all that small, after all.
life has taken over, i guess, briefly. but i'll be back. (and as a brief update, food is going great, i've got the carbs well and truly out of my system, and i'm now at 153lbs)
so what i actually popped in to share was one of those small, sweet joys that happen from time to time. leaving aside the true joys of retail therapy (a looong post) having lost weight, i'll just say that i had an appointment today, and once it was done, i paid a short visit to a couple of my favourite clothes shops to see if they had anything for me. i've got a wedding to go to in a month or so and i need a nice top to go with my 'wedding' skirt. anyway...i found a couple of nice things, and took them to the cash register to pay. the woman behind the till asked me whether i wanted a strappy top - one of those body-hugging lycra things that are just so indispensible as part of your wardrobe - to go underneath one of the tops i was buying. i actually had looked for just such a thing, but hadn't seen any. she said there were some, and that she'd go and find one for me. she looked at me, and asked me what size i needed, and as i hesitated, she said "small, right?"
what a difference five years makes. five years ago nothing in that shop would have fit me at all. now, the sales assistant is correct in her assessment that i need their smallest size! (i bought it - it fits perfectly and is just what i needed).
small joys that aren't really all that small, after all.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Doing It All The Time
Calianna "I don't know how you do it all the time."
(Hi Calianna! Nice to have someone who understands this particular pitfall).
I have no choice. I have to keep on keeping on, or I'll be 250lbs again within, oh, about 2 years, I'd say. There are some days when I wish I'd found low-carbing much much earlier than I did. Say when I was sixteen. That way I could have avoided the yo-yo dieting, the extra stretchmarks and loose skin, the pain of living at all at 250lbs. But then if low-carb had been the first 'solution' I'd found, maybe I wouldn't have been so absolutely sure that it actually is the *only* solution for me. And then maybe I'd have tried to experiment; to find a way to work back in things like bread and crisps as a frequent part of my diet. I know that won't work for me. But the reason I know is because I have the experience of trying to diet low-fat and I know how absolutely horrendous and impossible it was. People are always commenting admiringly on my willpower and self-control, and they did so even more when I was heavier and actively losing the weight, but to me, the only reason these past five years of low-carbing have even been possible is because they take far less willpower than anything else ever did.
Or rather, what I have to exercise now is pure emotional willpower. Fighting taste-buds, fighting circumstance, fighting the convention of 'spoiling yourself' with carby food, etc. But I'm not - or not usually, anyway - fighting insulin surges anymore.
I have a very strong respect for how strong that sucker is. Because it always, always won against me. Most of the time it won after only a few days - even at the end of day one of a "i'm dieting again" mantra. Occasionally - for only two extended periods in my life - I managed to beat it long enough to actually be consistently on a low-fat diet. Sheer torture, and *that* was real willpower. I am amazed now that I managed to stay on weightwatchers for almost a year when I was in my early twenties. Fighting those cravings and that hunger all that time? Incredible (And tragic, of course, because the rebound after I finally snapped is what took me up to my alltime high of 250lbs).
Anyway, I didn't actually come on here today to talk about that. I came on to say that I was just eating lunch. I had 2 100% beef patties, spread with some thousand island dressing made with low-fat mayo and low-carb ketchup, some slices of homemade pickled cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and raw onion, wrapped in lettuce leaves. And as I was eating it, I was really enjoying all the tastes, and it struck me that really, the only thing that the beefburger bun is good for is to make it easier to hold all that stuff together. That it really doesn't add anything in terms of taste.
And my next thought was: I must be getting over the carb cravings now, if I can think that.
Phew. It's wednesday now, and the carb blowout was friday/saturday. Over the past few days I've eaten way too much food, but it's all been low-carb. I have eaten nuts, and very high percent cocoa dark chocolate, but nothing that's not 'legal'. After 3 days, I'm beginning to feel normal again with regard to my cravings. Soon I'll start cutting calories again.
In a few hours I'm off to Pilates. I started doing it once a week a few months ago, but stopped in October when I was faced with so much travelling it wasn't worth trying to arrange a session for the few weeks I would be around. Now I'm back, solidly, no more travel for a few months. So every week, wednesday at 4pm. Every little bit helps.
(Hi Calianna! Nice to have someone who understands this particular pitfall).
I have no choice. I have to keep on keeping on, or I'll be 250lbs again within, oh, about 2 years, I'd say. There are some days when I wish I'd found low-carbing much much earlier than I did. Say when I was sixteen. That way I could have avoided the yo-yo dieting, the extra stretchmarks and loose skin, the pain of living at all at 250lbs. But then if low-carb had been the first 'solution' I'd found, maybe I wouldn't have been so absolutely sure that it actually is the *only* solution for me. And then maybe I'd have tried to experiment; to find a way to work back in things like bread and crisps as a frequent part of my diet. I know that won't work for me. But the reason I know is because I have the experience of trying to diet low-fat and I know how absolutely horrendous and impossible it was. People are always commenting admiringly on my willpower and self-control, and they did so even more when I was heavier and actively losing the weight, but to me, the only reason these past five years of low-carbing have even been possible is because they take far less willpower than anything else ever did.
Or rather, what I have to exercise now is pure emotional willpower. Fighting taste-buds, fighting circumstance, fighting the convention of 'spoiling yourself' with carby food, etc. But I'm not - or not usually, anyway - fighting insulin surges anymore.
I have a very strong respect for how strong that sucker is. Because it always, always won against me. Most of the time it won after only a few days - even at the end of day one of a "i'm dieting again" mantra. Occasionally - for only two extended periods in my life - I managed to beat it long enough to actually be consistently on a low-fat diet. Sheer torture, and *that* was real willpower. I am amazed now that I managed to stay on weightwatchers for almost a year when I was in my early twenties. Fighting those cravings and that hunger all that time? Incredible (And tragic, of course, because the rebound after I finally snapped is what took me up to my alltime high of 250lbs).
Anyway, I didn't actually come on here today to talk about that. I came on to say that I was just eating lunch. I had 2 100% beef patties, spread with some thousand island dressing made with low-fat mayo and low-carb ketchup, some slices of homemade pickled cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and raw onion, wrapped in lettuce leaves. And as I was eating it, I was really enjoying all the tastes, and it struck me that really, the only thing that the beefburger bun is good for is to make it easier to hold all that stuff together. That it really doesn't add anything in terms of taste.
And my next thought was: I must be getting over the carb cravings now, if I can think that.
Phew. It's wednesday now, and the carb blowout was friday/saturday. Over the past few days I've eaten way too much food, but it's all been low-carb. I have eaten nuts, and very high percent cocoa dark chocolate, but nothing that's not 'legal'. After 3 days, I'm beginning to feel normal again with regard to my cravings. Soon I'll start cutting calories again.
In a few hours I'm off to Pilates. I started doing it once a week a few months ago, but stopped in October when I was faced with so much travelling it wasn't worth trying to arrange a session for the few weeks I would be around. Now I'm back, solidly, no more travel for a few months. So every week, wednesday at 4pm. Every little bit helps.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Always Look on the Bright Side...
I feel horrible today.
I'm too hungry, I've got a weird headache and the hunger is the odd kind that won't go away if I eat. I am eating lots of food, too; not stinting on calories, but keeping the carbs low.
I'm in withdrawal, and it's pretty nasty. It won't be fun for the next three days or so.
But - looking on the bright side, and it really is a bright side, sort of - it makes things so much clearer. The very fact that I can recognise that my body is going through withdrawal shows how aware I am of my body - and, what's more - how aware my body now is of the various poisons/good things I put in it. That didn't used to be the case. I could eat whatever I wanted with impunity - unless you consider the fact that I weighed 250lbs. What I mean by impunity, obviously, is that other than the carb cravings which I didn't recognise as anything other than normal, I didn't have any specific reactions to different foods. But that makes it harder to make healthy choices, really, doesn't it? The very fact that I feel so awful now shows me - beyond the scale - what I was eating was not good for me. Getting through the next few days might not be easy but I know I'll do it, and I know how my body will feel afterwards. Much, much better. Light and lean. (Feel. Not look - I'm not lean yet!) Food fills without bloating, hunger is real, and satiable. This is such a different place to where I was a few years ago. My body really is a chem lab that gives me clear results.
That's good - even if the short-term experiment is making me feel crappy!
This is day one of my new 100% regimen, by the way.
Which includes:
- this week, full low-carb eating, no indulgences, but no stinting on calories until the carb withdrawal has worn off.
- from next week, calorie counting.
- drinking plenty of water
- pilates once a week and weights once a week (there'll be another post about why i can't do that much more exercise without my health suffering)
- making sure that i don't enter into a position where i'm not in control of food more than once a month (this involves care in planning shabbat)
- daily weighing of myself
- daily use of fitday for food logging
I'm too hungry, I've got a weird headache and the hunger is the odd kind that won't go away if I eat. I am eating lots of food, too; not stinting on calories, but keeping the carbs low.
I'm in withdrawal, and it's pretty nasty. It won't be fun for the next three days or so.
But - looking on the bright side, and it really is a bright side, sort of - it makes things so much clearer. The very fact that I can recognise that my body is going through withdrawal shows how aware I am of my body - and, what's more - how aware my body now is of the various poisons/good things I put in it. That didn't used to be the case. I could eat whatever I wanted with impunity - unless you consider the fact that I weighed 250lbs. What I mean by impunity, obviously, is that other than the carb cravings which I didn't recognise as anything other than normal, I didn't have any specific reactions to different foods. But that makes it harder to make healthy choices, really, doesn't it? The very fact that I feel so awful now shows me - beyond the scale - what I was eating was not good for me. Getting through the next few days might not be easy but I know I'll do it, and I know how my body will feel afterwards. Much, much better. Light and lean. (Feel. Not look - I'm not lean yet!) Food fills without bloating, hunger is real, and satiable. This is such a different place to where I was a few years ago. My body really is a chem lab that gives me clear results.
That's good - even if the short-term experiment is making me feel crappy!
This is day one of my new 100% regimen, by the way.
Which includes:
- this week, full low-carb eating, no indulgences, but no stinting on calories until the carb withdrawal has worn off.
- from next week, calorie counting.
- drinking plenty of water
- pilates once a week and weights once a week (there'll be another post about why i can't do that much more exercise without my health suffering)
- making sure that i don't enter into a position where i'm not in control of food more than once a month (this involves care in planning shabbat)
- daily weighing of myself
- daily use of fitday for food logging
A Sense of Proportion
Before I begin, I'd like to say hi to kaz and suzique! Hi! It's really great to get comments from people I didn't 'know' already when I began the blog. It's weird, because I *have* been part of online forums before and I'm used to people reading what I write; knowing it's been read and appreciated. Starting a blog isn't like that, because there's no guarantee anyone will find your little corner of the web. But I wanted to focus more fully on the weight thing, and a blog seemed a good way to go to restart my writing. So I'm really pleased it's reaching new people - thank you for letting me know!
So despite my intent to remain - for now, at least - basically anonymous on this blog, I'm going to give you some relevant info that means you'll have less than 2 billion or so women in the world to identify me from...I'll cut it down to a few million. I'm Jewish, and live in a somewhat traditional framework. This is relevant because it means that the life I live makes staying low-carb quite a unique challenge.
Why? Because beyond all the festivals which are always but always centred around food (and pretty much always high-carb food, at that), every week there is a day in which you eat two three-course meals, in company. Saturday/Shabbat is a social day, and because I'm single I really don't have the option of just staying at home and avoiding temptation by cooking my own meals for my family. I do host meals occasionally, but more often I'm invited out, or go away and stay with friends/family.
It creates a bit of a quandary. In the normal course of a week, things are very much under control. If I'm cooking for myself at home, then obviously I decide what I eat and if I 'stray' then it's only my own fault. If I go out to eat with friends in a restaurant, then I can always find a low-carb option. (The issue of how it feels to always have to choose a low-carb option even once you've lost the majority of your weight is a whole other post). For now, because I've just spent the day with close friends and have eaten mounds of carbs, I'm going to focus on the hard part - when you are invited to friends.
Imagine being faced with dealing with Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner - only having to do it every week - twice. It can certainly make trying to lose weight, or stay on plan, a chore. Sometimes it's downright impossible.
There are various ways I have for coping; and this is where the title of the post comes in. I have to strike a balance between focusing on eating well, and on living well. When I say that I don't mean it because I resent having to cut carbs out of my life (that's another post). I mean that I choose not to stay home and refuse invitations because I know I will not be able to eat the way I should.
First of all, every sabbath meal begins with bread. And wine. Sometimes the wine is dry, but often it's sweet - and this is a ritual thing where it's not always easy to pipe up and say 'can i have dry wine please?' - even if the dry wine makes its way to the table later on in the meal. Take a meal I went to a few weeks ago, for example. Friends of mine invited me. Definite friends, not just acquaintances, but not close friends. There are certain friends who know me well, and when they invite me, will ask me to remind them what I can and can't eat so that they can be certain I'll have food. And I'll often take something with me - for everyone - a side dish, or salad - so I know I've supplemented the supply of 'legal' food. But when you receive an invitation to dinner and it's not a close close friend, and you're a single person who spends at least part of every week in slight anxiety as to what plans you have for the weekend, or whether you have any at all, you're not going to make things difficult for your hosts. You hope that there will be suitable food there, and wait and see. It's often easy enough to expect there will be 'legal' food around - friday night meals, for example, often start with dips like humus and various vegetable dips to go with the bread (and I just eat them without bread), followed by chicken soup, some form of roast chicken and various vegetables. So I avoid the potatoes and the dessert, have a tiny taste of the bread to fulfill the requirements, and eat healthily. But that meal a few weeks ago, we went straight from sweet bread to sweet potato and pumpkin soup - delicious but not exactly low carb - then to meatballs with rice and salad, and then dessert. That was it. For me to stay on track, I'd have had to refuse the soup and bread and sit eating nothing through first course, then eat meatballs without rice and have some salad, and then refuse dessert as well. And as it is, I took the salad, so I'd basically have only eaten one thing that the hostess made. I'd have made the hostess feel awful, and I'd have felt ridiculous myself. Also, there were only five of us for a nice intimate dinner. Not the kind of situation where you can expect people to not notice you're not eating.
In circumstances like that, I eat. I know that I'm going to eat too much, because carbs do that to me - I'm not someone who can say 'ok then, i'll have a bit of bread, a small bowl of soup and a tiny spoon of rice and focus on the meatballs and the salad. Once the carbmonster is let loose, it truly goes on the rampage.
My reasoning is thus. I have to live. I have to enjoy life. And I will not enjoy it if I refuse invitations to be with my friends and celebrate together, and stay home eating a salad, just so that I can stay thin.
It's not that this isn't an issue that I take seriously. It is. And there have been times when I *have* made decisions for the weekend based on food. I'll decide to make a meal myself, and invite friends, because I know that way I can control what I eat. And not to plan a second meal out, even if it does mean I'll spend a large portion of the day alone. Because I don't want to derail myself.
I got to my current weight 2 years ago. Since then I've been on an up-down mini yo-yo. Up a few pounds, down again. It was quite a struggle, even. Not that I can even now imagine ever getting really heavy again - the highest I got during the last two years after getting to a low of 154 was seeing 163, and that was immediately after vacation and carb splurging, and a bit of it was water weight from the glycogen load. But I wasn't happy about the fact that my 'stable' weight had become more like 158/159 than 154/155. This summer I made a concerted effort to change that, and from June till September I was strictly controlling calories as well as carbs. During the week I really was very strict, and generally stuck to approximately 1250 calories - because I knew that the weekend would never be that strict even if I did manage to control my food. And at that time, when I was being very strict at dieting, when I was invited out I *did* make sure that there would be suitable food for me. I can't remember now but I think during that 3 month period there were very very few times when I could only eat unsuitable food.
I got down to around 150. Broke the 154 barrier. Stress over a relationship in September/October even saw me down at 149ish.
Then I spent two months travelling for work, and mourning the end of the relationship. After the rigours and focus of the summer, I couldn't do it anymore. And travel makes it hard. This is another relevant matter; I eat kosher. Mostly. Which means the low-carb options that are usually available for travellers aren't always available for me because I can't eat meat/chicken etc just anywhere. (Lordy, lordy, talk about fussy, hey? Low carb *and* kosher!)
But it's back to that sense of proportion. I know there's no sense beating myself up about it. I know there are times to worry and focus on the eating and times to let go a bit.
I do mean a bit. I dont' mean go on wild forays of carb-binging. Untrammelled excesses. Because if I did that I *would* quickly be back at 250lbs, hating myself again. I've never let myself gain enough weight to even go up one clothing size, let alone the six or seven I've gone through during the past five years of transformation.
This weekend I went away to very old family friends. Parents of my best friend growing up. They - and the sister of my aforementioned best friend - live near me now. It is wonderful being with them - they are a fabulous family whose company I genuinely enjoy, and they welcome me so openly. It's comforting and comfortable. Truly relaxed. But I know that the food won't be good. Typical Ashkenazi fare. Last night was chicken soup (good) but everything else was well nigh impossible. Meatballs in a sweet and sour sauce. Chicken schnitzel not only with breading but with a sweet sauce on top. Sweet and sour cabbage. Sweetened carrots with prunes. Roast potatoes. Notice the sweet theme? At times like this there's no point worrying. I just sit back and let the carbmonster take over (we'll leave it for another post how these things actually make me feel ill and horrible afterwards).
Tomorrow is another day. After two months of travelling and letting go, I'm back somewhere around 155. Probably more after this week, with the food poisoning aftermath and then this latest freewheeling eating experience. I've got no more travelling planned for a few months. I'll stay at home next shabbat and have friends over to me. I'll visit my siblings for some weekends, when I know I can expect them to make good food for me. And I'll be back to my standard fare. This week will be difficult because I'll be dealing with the day after the day after again - which is one reason why I have to keep next weekend 'pure'. It takes a while to get properly back in the saddle again.
Sometimes, honestly, when I've been lax for a while and put on a couple pounds, I really expect to look in the mirror and see my old self again. That somehow I can't have that full-up carb-bloated feeling after a day of bad eating and not immediately see 250lbs of me in the mirror. I'm almost surprised when I still look the same. Still got a defined jawline. Still got that 29" waist (28" when I'm down at 150lbs). Even if I feel flabby and too full (well, even with the 28" waist I'm still flabby - talk about hourglass - I've got a 13" difference between waist and hips).
So - living my life - but balancing the needs of my body with the needs of my soul. I know people who never ever stray from eating low-carb. They've had enough bad experiences with being heavy that they know they just can't go off plan at all or risk sliding backwards forever. This is one of the reasons that I'm glad I came to Atkins by way of the more moderate Carb Addicts diet. It made me more aware of my abilities to 'survive' a cheat. I know that falling off the wagon isn't irrevocable; that I can get back on. I've been doing so for five years. I know when the alarms start ringing in my head and I know I can't afford to remain lax any longer. I am *always* at least 80% on plan with my eating - but I know that even 80% on plan will mean I put on weight, albeit at a slow rate. I know that to stay on track and not put on weight - and heaven help me, perhaps lose some more too - I need to be on track 95% of the time.
Tomorrow's day one again for me. It's time to be 100% for a good long while. I want to see 150 again. Then maybe I could actually see 140. Haven't been there since I was about 12 years old. I'm only 5 foot 4, and small boned (something I didn't realise till I'd lost weight). I wear a size 6 or 8 on top, but a size 10 or 12 on the bottom - and I'd really like to be an all round size 8.
Wish me luck!
So despite my intent to remain - for now, at least - basically anonymous on this blog, I'm going to give you some relevant info that means you'll have less than 2 billion or so women in the world to identify me from...I'll cut it down to a few million. I'm Jewish, and live in a somewhat traditional framework. This is relevant because it means that the life I live makes staying low-carb quite a unique challenge.
Why? Because beyond all the festivals which are always but always centred around food (and pretty much always high-carb food, at that), every week there is a day in which you eat two three-course meals, in company. Saturday/Shabbat is a social day, and because I'm single I really don't have the option of just staying at home and avoiding temptation by cooking my own meals for my family. I do host meals occasionally, but more often I'm invited out, or go away and stay with friends/family.
It creates a bit of a quandary. In the normal course of a week, things are very much under control. If I'm cooking for myself at home, then obviously I decide what I eat and if I 'stray' then it's only my own fault. If I go out to eat with friends in a restaurant, then I can always find a low-carb option. (The issue of how it feels to always have to choose a low-carb option even once you've lost the majority of your weight is a whole other post). For now, because I've just spent the day with close friends and have eaten mounds of carbs, I'm going to focus on the hard part - when you are invited to friends.
Imagine being faced with dealing with Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner - only having to do it every week - twice. It can certainly make trying to lose weight, or stay on plan, a chore. Sometimes it's downright impossible.
There are various ways I have for coping; and this is where the title of the post comes in. I have to strike a balance between focusing on eating well, and on living well. When I say that I don't mean it because I resent having to cut carbs out of my life (that's another post). I mean that I choose not to stay home and refuse invitations because I know I will not be able to eat the way I should.
First of all, every sabbath meal begins with bread. And wine. Sometimes the wine is dry, but often it's sweet - and this is a ritual thing where it's not always easy to pipe up and say 'can i have dry wine please?' - even if the dry wine makes its way to the table later on in the meal. Take a meal I went to a few weeks ago, for example. Friends of mine invited me. Definite friends, not just acquaintances, but not close friends. There are certain friends who know me well, and when they invite me, will ask me to remind them what I can and can't eat so that they can be certain I'll have food. And I'll often take something with me - for everyone - a side dish, or salad - so I know I've supplemented the supply of 'legal' food. But when you receive an invitation to dinner and it's not a close close friend, and you're a single person who spends at least part of every week in slight anxiety as to what plans you have for the weekend, or whether you have any at all, you're not going to make things difficult for your hosts. You hope that there will be suitable food there, and wait and see. It's often easy enough to expect there will be 'legal' food around - friday night meals, for example, often start with dips like humus and various vegetable dips to go with the bread (and I just eat them without bread), followed by chicken soup, some form of roast chicken and various vegetables. So I avoid the potatoes and the dessert, have a tiny taste of the bread to fulfill the requirements, and eat healthily. But that meal a few weeks ago, we went straight from sweet bread to sweet potato and pumpkin soup - delicious but not exactly low carb - then to meatballs with rice and salad, and then dessert. That was it. For me to stay on track, I'd have had to refuse the soup and bread and sit eating nothing through first course, then eat meatballs without rice and have some salad, and then refuse dessert as well. And as it is, I took the salad, so I'd basically have only eaten one thing that the hostess made. I'd have made the hostess feel awful, and I'd have felt ridiculous myself. Also, there were only five of us for a nice intimate dinner. Not the kind of situation where you can expect people to not notice you're not eating.
In circumstances like that, I eat. I know that I'm going to eat too much, because carbs do that to me - I'm not someone who can say 'ok then, i'll have a bit of bread, a small bowl of soup and a tiny spoon of rice and focus on the meatballs and the salad. Once the carbmonster is let loose, it truly goes on the rampage.
My reasoning is thus. I have to live. I have to enjoy life. And I will not enjoy it if I refuse invitations to be with my friends and celebrate together, and stay home eating a salad, just so that I can stay thin.
It's not that this isn't an issue that I take seriously. It is. And there have been times when I *have* made decisions for the weekend based on food. I'll decide to make a meal myself, and invite friends, because I know that way I can control what I eat. And not to plan a second meal out, even if it does mean I'll spend a large portion of the day alone. Because I don't want to derail myself.
I got to my current weight 2 years ago. Since then I've been on an up-down mini yo-yo. Up a few pounds, down again. It was quite a struggle, even. Not that I can even now imagine ever getting really heavy again - the highest I got during the last two years after getting to a low of 154 was seeing 163, and that was immediately after vacation and carb splurging, and a bit of it was water weight from the glycogen load. But I wasn't happy about the fact that my 'stable' weight had become more like 158/159 than 154/155. This summer I made a concerted effort to change that, and from June till September I was strictly controlling calories as well as carbs. During the week I really was very strict, and generally stuck to approximately 1250 calories - because I knew that the weekend would never be that strict even if I did manage to control my food. And at that time, when I was being very strict at dieting, when I was invited out I *did* make sure that there would be suitable food for me. I can't remember now but I think during that 3 month period there were very very few times when I could only eat unsuitable food.
I got down to around 150. Broke the 154 barrier. Stress over a relationship in September/October even saw me down at 149ish.
Then I spent two months travelling for work, and mourning the end of the relationship. After the rigours and focus of the summer, I couldn't do it anymore. And travel makes it hard. This is another relevant matter; I eat kosher. Mostly. Which means the low-carb options that are usually available for travellers aren't always available for me because I can't eat meat/chicken etc just anywhere. (Lordy, lordy, talk about fussy, hey? Low carb *and* kosher!)
But it's back to that sense of proportion. I know there's no sense beating myself up about it. I know there are times to worry and focus on the eating and times to let go a bit.
I do mean a bit. I dont' mean go on wild forays of carb-binging. Untrammelled excesses. Because if I did that I *would* quickly be back at 250lbs, hating myself again. I've never let myself gain enough weight to even go up one clothing size, let alone the six or seven I've gone through during the past five years of transformation.
This weekend I went away to very old family friends. Parents of my best friend growing up. They - and the sister of my aforementioned best friend - live near me now. It is wonderful being with them - they are a fabulous family whose company I genuinely enjoy, and they welcome me so openly. It's comforting and comfortable. Truly relaxed. But I know that the food won't be good. Typical Ashkenazi fare. Last night was chicken soup (good) but everything else was well nigh impossible. Meatballs in a sweet and sour sauce. Chicken schnitzel not only with breading but with a sweet sauce on top. Sweet and sour cabbage. Sweetened carrots with prunes. Roast potatoes. Notice the sweet theme? At times like this there's no point worrying. I just sit back and let the carbmonster take over (we'll leave it for another post how these things actually make me feel ill and horrible afterwards).
Tomorrow is another day. After two months of travelling and letting go, I'm back somewhere around 155. Probably more after this week, with the food poisoning aftermath and then this latest freewheeling eating experience. I've got no more travelling planned for a few months. I'll stay at home next shabbat and have friends over to me. I'll visit my siblings for some weekends, when I know I can expect them to make good food for me. And I'll be back to my standard fare. This week will be difficult because I'll be dealing with the day after the day after again - which is one reason why I have to keep next weekend 'pure'. It takes a while to get properly back in the saddle again.
Sometimes, honestly, when I've been lax for a while and put on a couple pounds, I really expect to look in the mirror and see my old self again. That somehow I can't have that full-up carb-bloated feeling after a day of bad eating and not immediately see 250lbs of me in the mirror. I'm almost surprised when I still look the same. Still got a defined jawline. Still got that 29" waist (28" when I'm down at 150lbs). Even if I feel flabby and too full (well, even with the 28" waist I'm still flabby - talk about hourglass - I've got a 13" difference between waist and hips).
So - living my life - but balancing the needs of my body with the needs of my soul. I know people who never ever stray from eating low-carb. They've had enough bad experiences with being heavy that they know they just can't go off plan at all or risk sliding backwards forever. This is one of the reasons that I'm glad I came to Atkins by way of the more moderate Carb Addicts diet. It made me more aware of my abilities to 'survive' a cheat. I know that falling off the wagon isn't irrevocable; that I can get back on. I've been doing so for five years. I know when the alarms start ringing in my head and I know I can't afford to remain lax any longer. I am *always* at least 80% on plan with my eating - but I know that even 80% on plan will mean I put on weight, albeit at a slow rate. I know that to stay on track and not put on weight - and heaven help me, perhaps lose some more too - I need to be on track 95% of the time.
Tomorrow's day one again for me. It's time to be 100% for a good long while. I want to see 150 again. Then maybe I could actually see 140. Haven't been there since I was about 12 years old. I'm only 5 foot 4, and small boned (something I didn't realise till I'd lost weight). I wear a size 6 or 8 on top, but a size 10 or 12 on the bottom - and I'd really like to be an all round size 8.
Wish me luck!
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