Bodily Experimentation

I'm currently down about 20 pounds, give or take a few depending on the day and time. As long as I don't worship and take the number on the scale too seriously, I don't panic when it changes. I know my body is temperamental and I know the scale doesn't take into account the various factors that determine the number so I don't panic too much. My clothes are fitting better and clothes I haven't worn since my mom passed in 2009 are fitting and I feel pretty darn happy about that. I'm not complaining. I've got a ways to go to be where I want but I have time and I'll get there.

My workouts have suffered this week and I find when that happens, I eat things I don't want. It's an energy issue. I don't work out and my energy tanks so I crave the crappy carbs to increase my energy. Sometimes I fall victim to it and sometimes I don't. It's a constant mind game but in general, I'm winning.

I gave up the processed carbs and sugars for about 2 months and then decided to start adding some back in so I didn't feel so restricted and to test my self control. Everything in moderation, right? Maybe. For some people, I suspect that works. For me, not so much. I started to feel myself falling back into the same sugar addicted pattern I was in for years and I can't do that. I guess I'm more of an all or nothing kind of gal when it comes to this stuff.

It's not the sweets I struggle to control, which is truly a shock to me. It's the breads. Mostly the tortilla chips and tortillas themselves. I am a Mexican food addict. Is there a 12 step program for that? I wish. If so, I'd join. So what I've been doing is allowing myself these treats, mostly on the weekends when my husband is home and we go out to eat. I have, this week, tried to add a few treats now and then and I've watched the scale shift (also a bad work out week) and I've watched what the food has done to my body. And it's not been good.

First I had some tortillas and chips. After eating those, I was bloated and gassy (yes, it's my blog and I can share whatever I want, not that anyone reads this away) and felt generally miserable. My pants were a little more snug in the waist than I like and I felt sluggish. It was worth it. The problem is, when I'm in the midst of mentally craving that stuff and I'm with my husband at my favorite restaurant, I forget how I feel afterward. I have to work on that. Hopefully I will remember the miserable feeling this weekend when we, I'm almost certain, go out on the bike and end up at our favorite place.

Secondly, I decided in the event that I wanted something sweet, I would have a sugar-free pudding. Oh. My. God. Yes, I know that sorbital can act as a laxative but I didn't think that one small pudding cup would send my digestive tract into a tailspin of excretion. Hello! About an hour after I ate it, I was running, cheeks squeezed shut, to the bathroom, which suddenly seemed miles away. Never again. I may be stupid but I'm not dumb and I will not suffer through that experience again for a cup of pudding.

Yesterday I had a glorious hamburger with a kaiser roll, some fabulous fries and an ice cream cone. I felt bloated and nasty afterward and couldn't eat the rest of the day (it was about 1:00 when I ate it) because there was just no room anywhere in my body (therefore, I'm sure it settled in my butt and thighs). Today I woke up with a massive stomachache and even a headache and I'm now convinced I have some sort of food allergy to something I ate. I'm considering trying the burger again without the ice cream to see how it impacts me and then the ice cream without the burger. Maybe then I'll know which one it was that bothered me or maybe it will end up being the combination. The problem is, I'm not all that interested in feeling this way again. The problem, again, is to remember this feeling when my mind tricks me into thinking I want the yummies again. It's not worth it but I'm not sure I'll remember that.

I have spent the last two years (and really, several years before that) wishing, hoping and praying that God would help me to eat better. As I once heard, when you pray for something, God doesn't 'give' it to you, he gives you opportunities to do what it is you're praying for. For example, when you pray for patience, He doesn't give you patience, he gives you OPPORTUNITIES to be patient. I've never liked that theory but looking back, I can see how He has done that for me with my eating. Now I'm finally 'getting the hints' and moving in the right direction.

I'm still experimenting with what works in my body and what doesn't and I know it's going to be a long, probably never-ending road to travel. That's okay. I have a long way to go. I need to eat more veggies. I need to learn how to cook more veggies and then I'll eat them. It's all an experimental process and I'm moving forward with it.

I also need to push through the crappy feeling and work out when I don't quite want to, which has been a problem for me as of late. I suspect the food making me feel crappy is contributing to the lack of desire to work out. When I don't feel good, the last thing I want to do is exert myself but I know that when I exert myself, I feel better. It's a vicious mind game for me.

Progress is good and I'm progressing. I looked at a pair of pants I barely fit into last summer and compared them to a pair of pants I hadn't been able to wear in two years and can now. The size difference is huge. It makes me happy to know my 'old' wardrobe in 'new' again. It's amazing what a few pairs of slimmer jeans can do for the self esteem. I'm remembering that feeling when I feel crappy, reminding myself that aside from the health benefits, the more obvious appearance benefits are well worth the struggle.

18 LBS DOWN!

Gotta love that blog title.

I've been eating cleaner (not totally clean but cleaner) since March 1st. I started adding a little bread and some 'treats' now and then but in all honesty, they're not making me feel good. They make me feel gross, stuffed, bloated, sick, full, nasty and most importantly, guilty. As if what I did took me off path...took me farther away from my target. So I've cut back on the additions. Instead, I'm working on having some whole grains and a little fruit before 3 PM. This way I get what it is I'm looking for but not late enough in the day to feel I've screwed myself.

I am adding more fruit each day. Not a lot. Just enough to give me a fix, so to speak and to keep my carbs balanced. Initially I looked at fruit as a sugar but I'm keeping it to berries and fruits that take longer to digest, not bananas and the like. So far, I'm mostly adding berries but there's a kiwi in my fridge calling my name right now. Too bad it's after 3 PM. Eight minutes after but still, after.

I'm working towards losing a pound a week now. We head to Costa Rica in October and I'd like to lose 20 more though I really don't need to lose that much. I figure if I keep up with what I'm doing, adding my work outs to the mix, and mixing them up, I should have no problem with a pound a week. Right now I'm shooting towards 500 calories burned a day through exercise. (Today I burned 733) and if I don't do it, I at least have the reduction in food to help me get there. I'm considering the calorie loss through my new eating habits as a bonus and not in the weight loss equation.

So far, so good. I'm motivated and feel good about it. Have been for over two months now so I feel like the 'me' I used to know and used to be, is back.

Can't complain about that. I sort of liked having her around.

Processing...

Sometimes things happen that you never imagined could. Sometimes you realize something you thought was one thing is actually something else. What do you do when that happens? You process. Or at least that's what I do. Right now I'm processing things and refocusing my thoughts in a new direction. I'm not strongly opposed to change but admittedly, I'd prefer things stay the same, as long as 'the same' isn't bad. Unfortunately sometimes things change and there's just nothing to be done but go with the flow and move forward. I guess you can move backward or even try to fight the change but what's the point? It's coming head on regardless of what you do and you just have to push through it until it's the new normal.

Nothing in life is ever guaranteed. I believe with the utmost certainly, the only unconditional love (religious beliefs aside) is the love of a parent to a child. And honestly, there are some who aren't even capable of that. Love in any other form isn't a sure thing and can change with the blink of an eye. Sometimes the change means growth and other times it's a death sentence. That's just life. I recently realized that since my parents are both dead, I no longer have that unconditional love and it was a humbling thought. It made me realize that the love I do have from people is fragile and must be treated with kindness. Not that I always take advantage of those I love and who love me but let's face it, it happens to all of us.

I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say here. Well, yeah, I am but I just don't know if this is the right place to say it, actually. I guess the point is that life is full of change and expectations are not always met and faith is not always restored but it is what it is and if we go with it, most of the time it works out for the best, whatever that may be. Or at least I hope it does.

Life Goes On

Saturday night was tough. I couldn't sleep. This doesn't happen daily but as I get older, it happens more often. My mind wasn't racing. In fact, I couldn't actually 'think' about anything for any consistent amount of time and no bad song lyrics (or good ones for that matter) were stuck on repeat in my head. I wasn't feeling any specific emotion, except of course, frustration because I couldn't sleep. I wasn't anxious, over tired, restless, sad, mad, happy. I just couldn't sleep.

I've tried different techniques to fall asleep and sometimes they work but this night, nothing seemed to. Sometimes all it takes is a change of room...the guest room, the family room...a room that's different...and I can fall asleep but that didn't even work Saturday night.

My son had the same problem that night as well because at 4 AM he was tapping on my shoulder telling me he couldn't sleep. We decided to go to the family room and hang out together. I guess quality time is quality time regardless of the actual hour, right?

Sadly, my son's favorite channel is the Military Channel and I was subjected to two hours of a WWII documentary. I'm by no means a war or military buff but I suffered through it for the sake of my son. Finally, at 6 AM I decided to see if my favorite Starbucks was opened and we headed out. Sadly, it wasn't. Instead my son and I went to McDonald's so he could have breakfast while I watched and waited for the Starbucks doors to unlock.

Sitting in that McDonald's reminded me of the times I would go there with my father for breakfast. He loved McDonald's breakfasts. Until of course, his heart attack and then he wasn't allowed to go more than rarely. While my son sat and ate, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. I started to miss my dad. I always miss him but as time goes on, the sadness fades and life continues. Sometimes it creeps up on me and I start to feel this overwhelming sense of loss and it takes me a few minutes to get it under control...to be able to breathe normally again. No one really notices it, especially my son, thankfully. It seems silly that a simple trip to McDonald's would open the hole losing my dad has left in my heart but it's really those little things that impact me the most. I think that's what everyone says when they've lost someone they love but it never really seems true until you experience it yourself.

Because, as we all know, life goes on.

That's the part about losing someone that frustrates me now, at this stage of my losses. Life goes on. There is this big empty space in my heart...in my soul and I feel the loss so strongly but it's my personal loss. As I sat in that McDonald's with my son, I realized that while my parents, in my eyes, were the most amazing people to grace this earth, not everyone else thought that or even knew them. In fact, more people than not had no clue they even existed. The people in that McDonald's continued through their days and that day in particular, without my parents in their lives and weren't even phased by that while I sat there feeling a loss so profound and intense I couldn't breathe.

Life goes on. People wake up and do what they do every day. Buses take kids to school. Trains move masses of people to and from, to and from. Planes fly. Starbucks continues to make coffee (and thank God for that). Spring has even sprung here in Atlanta and we're already heading into summer. Life goes on. All without my dad and my mom.

Sitting in that McDonald's, I realized the unfairness of that. Life goes on even though the world lost two amazing people and it seems as if their mark on the world is gone now, too. Sure they have family to carry on. Little bits of their DNA are moving through the world but for me, that's not enough. It's all I've got but still, it's not enough. I realize most people feel this way when they lose someone they love and I know it's the way the world works but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

I just can't comprehend that my parents are gone and every day goes on just like the day before. I'm doing a lousy job of explaining it. I guess the best I can say is that sometimes, like in that McDonald's, I want to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs, "My parents are dead and you're walking around like the world is the same but it's not!" Because for me, the world is different and it will never be the same.

The world for me is now the world of 'after my parents died' instead of the 'before my parents died' world.

I'm not sad every day anymore. Like I said, it comes and goes and that physical pain in my chest...that inability to breathe...that feeling of total helplessness, it's all gone. I spend most of my days happy and can think about my parents without feeling sad. That's progress for me and I feel I'm moving forward in my grief but every so often it slaps me in the face and I'm shocked to realize
that it's actually true, my parents are dead.

I thought maybe writing this would resolve something for me. That maybe I'd understand the feeling better but I don't. Life still goes on and there is still a sense of loss for me and a slight feeling of anger that no one else in the world really notices the difference. The sun still shines and the wind still blows but for me, everything is just a little different now. Not bad or worse, just different.

Music Therapy

I think I've said this before but it doesn't hurt to repeat it. I love music. Really, what's not to love? Music has an impact on me and many others that has shaped and at times, defined my life.

I'm reading a book right now about a woman who is a music therapist. She uses music to work with emotional issues, trauma victims and disabilities. The concept sparked interest for me and I've googled and binged it enough to now believe music therapy is an excellent option for people who fall into those categories. I firmly believe for many, music is therapy.

I grew up listening to music. I remember nights sitting in our living room with my dad, listening to the Glenn Miller Orchestra or Neil Diamond and countless other performers from the 40's and 50's. We'd sit and listen and eat Malted Milk Balls while drinking calorie laden Dr. Pepper from glass bottles. I could afford to drink full throttle drinks like that as a child. Now? Not so much. Today when I hear "Chattanooga Choo Choo" or "Cherry Cherry" I almost feel transported back in time to that same living room and the little girl I used to be. Granamials and all.

I admit to being picky about my music. I like what I like and it's not always what someone else likes. Come to think of it, that's pretty much how I am about most everything in my life. I'm not closed minded about music but I have a preference and I can tell, immediately if something I hear is going to be a winner for me or not. First impressions are everything, I guess.

My husband and I disagree about the purpose of music in life. He defines it as background noise. Something he can take or leave. I consider it something much more substantial. Neil Diamond has a song called "Song Sung Blue". The premise of the words is that most people, when sad, turn on a song to validate those feelings and wallow, so to speak but once the music plays, they can't help but sing along and ultimately feel better. There's just something in the chords, the words, the rhythm...something that sparks our happy to push through and make an appearance. He's right. Sometimes even a sad song can make me feel better.

Music has a connection to my past, my present and my future. I can sit in a room, listen to my iTouch and think about any phase in my life, past or future, in relation to a song. "Against All Odds", an 80's classic, brings back memories of my first real love and the emotional torture I felt when it ended. Of course now I don't feel that torture. Instead, I feel nostalgic and it reminds me of the innocence of that time, not the pain and drama I felt then. Phil Collins can take me back to that innocence in three minutes, like it was just yesterday.

Right Now by Valen Halen (the Sammy years, which I liked much more than the DLR ones), is a theme song of sorts for me. The song focuses me on the now and the future. What I'm doing now impacts what I'll do later so make now worth it. Make it count. What's stopping me? I listen to that song every time I'm on the elliptical at the gym and I want to get off. It reminds me of why I'm there in the first place.

Music is about emotion. It's a beat stuck in our head that can drive us crazy (that It's Friday song needs to be put out of it's misery, please) or a phrase that makes us feel good (I can't sing Hey Soul Sister and feel bad. I just can't). Music can lift me out of what's happening now and transport me anywhere I want to be. I miss my mom, so I listen to country from the 80's because she loved that. I miss my dad and Frank Sinatra's Summer Wind connects me to him.

Yes, I'm picky. I prefer male voices to female, though there are some I like. I have no interest in rap or hip hop and really, jazz doesn't do a whole lot for me. I tend to gravitate toward 'rockabilly', BoDeans, Blue Rodeo, the like. I like what most radio stations never play and have my iTouch near my side 24/7 - except the hell of losing it for 42 days though it was right in front of me the whole time. Pure torture, really.

Some people don't really feel the same about music and it makes me sad for them. They're missing out on so much. My daughter never understood my attachment to music. I remember telling her that one day it would make a big difference in her life and she'd have it on all of the time. She couldn't see that as an option but now, she totally gets it. At least, after all this time, I did something right!

29 Days Refined Carb and Sugar Free!

Things I'm doing:

1. Busting my big, fat, Italian beeeeehind at the gym six days a week.

2. Not eating anything with chocolate, whipped cream, icing or anything sugary and fattening. Damn it.

3. Eating more protein and veggies than any sane person should.

4. Craving 0 fat plain Greek yogurt. With a tad bit of cinnamon.

5. Reading a book every two days (to keep my mind of of eating the stuff mentioned in #2.)

6. Kicking up my cardio an additional 15 minutes to an hour instead of 45 minutes a day.

7. Switching up my weight training from lighter weights and higher reps to heavier weights and lower reps. (which by the way, has made my butt hurt a whole heck of a lot!)

8. Getting up when I get up, heading to Starbucks and then straight to the gym so I don't sit at home and decide not to go.

9. Losing weight but not weighing myself anymore because the scale is an evil alien designed to screw with my head.

So far, so good. Five months until Costa Rica. 20 lbs (I will weigh again, eventually) should be no problem!

The Long & Winding Road to Better Health

People who know me know I used to work out a lot. One good friend (Tammy, I won't mention your name) calls me the work out queen. She may have been right before but lately, not so much. I used to work out daily with a friend at a gym close to my house. Then my husband moved us to another county and the drive in the metro Atlanta traffic was too much so I stopped going. The club options here were sparse at best and I couldn't find a gym I felt comfortable with. I did end up at a Y, once it finally opened. I started back into a routine but being the stand-offish woman I am, I hadn't really made any friends there and for me, working out is better, easier and more fun with friends. Needless to say, I stopped doing what I enjoyed. Eventually I started up again, sporadically but at least I was doing something. Eventually another gym opened and I started going to it, though I wasn't really making friends. I'm just not good at that, I guess.

Life got in the way and I found other things to do with my time and then the $h!t hit the fan and life through two lousy curve balls and any thought or interest in exercise went out the window.

It's taken me nine months since the last curve ball to get back on track. It's actually funny because after the first curve ball, it took nine months too and then two months and 15 pounds less later, that second curve ball did me in. It's okay though. I've started tackling things from a different perspective and it seems to be working. Sometimes it's all a matter of mind games.

I had made a plan to start exercising prior to the end of 2010. I'm an excellent planner. I can plan anything to a T. My problem isn't the planning. It's the executing. I'm okay at it if there is an immediate gratification but if the result is long term, I tend to lose patience and stop. It's a psychological block I share with many but still it frustrates me that I'm that way.

I didn't actually 'start' the plan (albeit revised tremendously) until March 1st. I'd normally start something on a Monday but instead I decided to start on the first of a month. Change one to my psychological make up. Well, sort of.

Yes, I had a plan. No, it wasn't totally defined anymore but still, I knew I had to do something at some point. That's sort of a plan, right? The actual push that started me was my mirror. You know how people who have lost 100 or more pounds say they had a turning point, an ah-ha moment, an epiphany? I'm not sure but I think I had one (even though I only wanted to lose about 30 lbs but still worthy of an epiphany in my book).

I looked in the mirror one day, my pants fitting tighter than I'd like and a shirt pulled down low to cover my uncomfortableness. I've never been one to show off my figure but hiding it to the degree I felt I was was even pushing it for me. I looked in the mirror and thought, "I don't look that bad." Then I realized that's what people who have lost control of their weight, lost control of their health, must say. "I don't look that bad." And it freaked me out.

Truthfully, no, I don't look that bad. I'm not into the double digits of size. For many, my desire to lose weight is laughable. I get that. It's not about what others see or really, what the scale or number of my size is. It's about how I feel about me. How I feel physically. How I feel emotionally. How my health is. It's about my psychological make up and what I've done to myself, outside circumstances aside, to become what I am today. And really, I finally realized I don't really like what I've become. It's simply not me.

So on March 1st, I quietly started making changes to myself. My first change was to not tell anyone I was making changes. I've found if I speak of my goals, I psych myself out in some way to not follow them and end up looking like the boy who cried wolf, except more womanly. Instead, I kept my mouth shut for a change (which is never easy for an Italian woman, trust me) and did it. I stopped eating sugar and refined carbs. No breads, no pasta, no packaged foods. No fruits. I went with a close version of the South Beach Diet because it's about eating healthy and while I can't have certain things like fruits, I can add them back eventually and be happy. I'm not 'depriving' myself of anything of quality, designed to be good for my body, except the fruit and whole grains. It's temporary.

South Beach is designed to cut the sugar addiction from your body in a two week period. I know me and I know that two weeks wasn't going to be enough. My initial goal was to cut it until April 1st and then start adding fruits and whole grains back in. That is still my plan. I thought it would be hard. I thought I'd miss it. I thought I'd be cranky and bitchy and irritable and mean. I thought I'd cheat. I most always cheat on things like this.

I. Have. Not. Cheated. Once. Not. Once.

I'm on day 24 and I haven't had any cravings for any sugars. I miss bread a little but not enough to make it worth cheating. I'm not sure what I did but I've convinced myself that when I'm ready, I will add the bread back in slowing so this isn't a forever thing and I can do it. It's worked. I don't feel deprived. Yes, every so often I want to go out to eat and I do. I've had fajitas a few times but don't eat the tortillas. I've watched my family eat mountain sized scoops of ice cream and chips with cheese dip and don't break out in a sweat wanting it, nor do I try to sneak any of it. I'm so freaking proud of myself I can't tell you!

It took a few days before anyone noticed. My husband mentioned something when I wasn't eating rice and I told him. He wasn't shocked because I've done this before but I think it surprised him that I didn't tell him. Normally I'd complain or 'jones' for something but generally, I've been okay.

I've had to figure out my triggers during this time. I've noticed that while I do 'want' certain things at certain times, it's a mental craving, not a physical craving. I've not felt a physical need for sugar. Sometimes I get frustrated, bored, lonely, mad, happy, sad, anxious...then I say, "I deserve a bag of M&M's" but I've realized the trick my mind is playing on me and I don't let it take hold. Progress. Figuring out my triggers has helped. I've been able to work through the emotion without the food (though boredom is sometimes a challenge) and have done well to date.

I didn't start exercising when I gave up the sugar and refined carbs. I didn't want to go full force like I always have because it's always created the crash and burn syndrome for me. Instead I waited two weeks and then I started exercising. First just cardio for 30-45 minutes five days a week because frankly, I'm out of shape. I didn't want to start back to spinning and weights daily because I knew I'd either injure myself or exhaust myself enough to quick. I started increasing the cardio to consistently be 45 minutes and then started adding some easy weightlifting back into my program. Today, for example, I didn't do cardio. I should have but I mixed up my leg routine to be higher weights and my legs are exhausted. I knew I'd be tired and I knew my heart rate would be high and I didn't want to push myself too hard. I plan to at least go for a walk later today.

I'm using my Polar heart rate monitor watch and keeping track of my calorie burn. Last week I set a goal to burn 200-400 more calories a day but I didn't reach it. It was a tough goal. I met it one day and didn't feel that normal rush of adrenaline afterward. I just felt tired and took that as a single that maybe it was too much. Instead I'm planning to add a little more calorie burn daily next week.

I also had no intention of weighing myself until April 1st. I hadn't weighed since my dad died last summer and knew I'd piled back on the 15 lbs I'd lost since gaining the weight from my mom's death (and maybe more) and honestly, I was afraid the scale would depress me and then I'd give up. Normally I'd be on the scale daily, freaking out with any slight change.

I know I've lost weight. My clothes fit better and I've reduced my bra size. Thank God. BUT...I had a plan to not weigh until April 1st and I couldn't stick to it. I had to know. Not knowing for sure what I weighed when I started, I went off the weight of my last time and figured I'd lost about 12 lbs in 16 or so days. Excellent. I weighed myself two more times and today the scale was higher and I was pissed. I know there are reasons for this...water retention, muscle, etc. etc. etc., yet it still played with my head and I've decided to stick to my original thoughts. It's not about what the scale says. It's about how I feel and how my clothes fit. Since those two are improving, I've got to not let the scale screw with me. Today, I'm working on that thought process and controlling it.

I don't know how long I'll continue this. I'd like to stick to my new way of eating until certain clothes fit but if I get to a point where I want to start eating the fruits and whole grains badly enough, I may. Everything in moderation. Right? I'm not sure if I can do that so I've really got to work on that process.

I've made a lot of changes in these past 24 days. Some aren't obvious to others but for me, they're changes. Mostly I've changed my way of thinking about things. It's not just the physical and nutritional changes, which, while important, aren't the main focus of my change. It's the psychological changes that are directing my actions. Instead of letting my mind work against me, I'm finding ways to change my way of thinking, change my self talk and the mind games I play against myself. So far, I'm winning that battle and it feels good.