Random projects and success

I think this is the longest break I've had between blog posts. Everything is going really well, I've just been busy with STUFF. First, rushing around to scan 50 years of photos before my parents golden anniversary celebration and second, making hair bows. I have a little trick I'm really good at: find something I really like and instead of buying it, try to "save" money by spending quadruple on supplies to make it at home. My little girl is almost three and her sparse head of hair decided to sprout a little within the last few months. A friend of mine fixed it with a flower bow during a play date and I was hooked! I could have bought nine bunches of flowers from the dollar store and been all done, but I am not practical enough to make such a grounded decision. After making two or three flowers with rhinestones in the middle, the dreamer in me said that I could be a millionaire by selling them. Instead, I opted for the instant gratification of giving them away to friends and family (It's funny how much more people like things when they are free). There are plenty of plastic rhinestone jeweled flower bows on the market, so I decided I would raise the bar by using real Swarovski crystals instead of plastic--it really makes them shine. However, I must admit the "I need to spend the extra money on crystals," is a difficult sell. My husband has been very nice about it though, because he knows I'd probably be pigging out on "Big Carl" hamburgers without the distraction. (I know this is a "Weight Loss" story, but my meat-eating friends should REALLY try the Big Carl, it’s the best piece of processed beef I've ever had. And no, I've not seen "Food Inc.")

According to the book I've been reading, it is not a good policy to "shame" myself, so I won't tell you ALL about the shameful lack of exercise lately (I'll just tell you mostly about it). When I step outside here in the hot California sun, five minutes of standing makes me feel like I ran a mile, and the heat makes me want to sleep like a bear in hibernation. It is not even the hottest part of the year, AGHH. I've come to the conclusion that I may have to show my face at the gym again--I hate it, but not as much as waking early during summer break and sweating like a Rhino during dry season while trying to shed a few calories. Despite my lack of regular intense activity, I've still lost weight. The principles I've learned, which I described in the last two posts, have really stuck, and I am simply not gorging myself like I used to. Maybe it is easier to avoid food when my body isn’t burning as many calories every day. Whatever the case, I'll take the lower numbers on the scale, loosened clothes, and wait for it…a bra that hasn’t fit me since before my daughter was born. Just yesterday, after dressing in a sensible outfit, I burst into the family room and shouted to my peeps, “My boobs are getting so tiny!” My husband looked at me like, “You are out of your stinkin’ mind,” then realized I was actually VERY excited, switched his face and said, “Uh, Proud of you!”

Listening to the monster within

Since December 29, 2009, when I vowed to get myself in shape, I have been "caught" several times. The first was in front of the Girls Scout cookie table just beyond the sliding doors of the local grocery store. I was undressing two boxes of Samoas, with my eyes, when a female acquaintance said, "Oh Christina, you really don't need that!" I looked up, shrugged, gave an awkward squint-smile, and said, "Yeah, you're right." I took the walk of sheepish-shame to my car feeling very silly and a little humiliated. And as is usually the case, I came up with some incredible come-backs about five minutes after the encounter. "From what I can see, you don't need them either, yet here you are, standing right next to me in front of the cookies!" Or, "Oh, it's nice to see you too, jerk!" And "Hey, you're not the boss of me!!" I drove home daydreaming of this playground confrontation and how it should have panned out. Then I parked the car and said to myself, "Hey, wait a minute, don't be mad at her for saying that--you ASKED for it--literally." Just a week after starting this blog I emailed many people asking for their "Support" in my weight-loss goals. I also publicize the blog heavily on Facebook. The woman, in her own way, was trying to offer support.

I was also "caught" three weeks ago at Chick-Fil-A with a hefty (fried) chicken sandwich and an EXTRA-LARGE carton of fries. This person was lovely and polite and asked how I was doing and didn't say a thing about what I was eating. But for some reason I felt that I had to "Confess" before I was comfortable moving on with the conversation, "Oh, (cheesy grin) It's French Fry day--I let myself have fries once every two-weeks or else I'd just go crazy!!" She looked at me reassuringly as if to say, "It's ok, really, I don't care." And we moved on with our conversation. So here is my problem with this: Somehow I have felt accountable to others for my exercise and eating--I've made my problem their problem. I mean, I know my friends and acquaintances don't sit home thinking about how much I currently weigh or how I "Cheated" today, but somehow my insecure self convinces me this is true.

I am officially declaring myself OFF A DIET. "Gasp!" "NO, It can't be!!" Well, it is, and I am still losing weight. I'm not a big fan of diets anyway, but now, I am completely letting go of the feelings of restriction, burden, and shame. From reading "Women, Food, and God," I have learned that my body actually tells me when I should stop eating--guess what, it was made to do that--I just haven't been listening to it for a while. The author, Geneen Roth, says to do an experiment: eat whatever it is you want to eat and listen to your belly. "To my belly??" "You mean I must listen to that awful, stretched-out monster...THING that has ruined my life? The floppy mess of lipids that REFUSES to scrunch into a suitable pair of jeans--the belly that makes young children ask (and adults wonder) if I am 'With child?'" Yes, yes, and yes, I must listen to my belly.

I have put the experiment to the test--I've eaten pizza, cake, and of course, Chick-Fil-A. Part of the experiment is to listen to my body's response to each bite and describe my hunger on a scale from one-to-ten. Here is one example of how this has actually worked, two nights ago: I eat one slice of pepperoni pizza--my belly isn't growling anymore, but I am still a little hungry, maybe a 4 or 5 on a 10 scale. Another slice: bite one, two, three...and my stomach feels HEAVY, and I stop after 1 and 1/2 slices, with something to drink, and that completes dinner. Can you believe it--only 1 and 1/2 slices of PIZZA!? I can hardly believe it myself. Of course a diet of pizza, fried chicken, and cake is not healthy even if I only have small amounts. I still need the nutrients from good, whole, foods. The purpose of this method is not to necessarily "Eat whatever I want," but to eat whatever my BODY wants. And today, guess what? It wanted a glass of water instead of a diet coke, and yesterday, some apple slices. Over time I compare how my belly feels after eating certain foods and really LISTEN. The feelings after an apple compared to a large order of fries are very different--and paying attention to this difference is the key. My body "wants" to eat healthy foods, I've just been giving it whatever my HEAD thought it needed. So if you see me in Barnes and Noble with a huge frothy cup of hot cocoa topped with a mountain of whipped-cream, don't worry, because I am listening. Now I just need to figure out which body part tells me to stop placing bids on eBay...

Women, Food, and Gosh-golly, it's starting to make sence

I decided to read Oprah's latest cure-all for food-junkies: "Women, Food, and God" I am halfway through and after just a few chapters I was able to seriously think about where food fits in my life. I came up with this analogy--food is like the bad boyfriend who I KNOW I should dump, but I take his crap anyway because it feels better to be with someone than face the scary thought of being alone--can you imagine--BY MYSELF. Hey, Hey, readers, I'm not talking about my husband, rather it was a pattern in my younger dating years--before I met my knight in shining scrubs. My analogy still doesn't make sense? Ok. It is much easier to eat a hot batch of Carl's Junior cris-cut fries, when I am not actually hungry, than to deal with the emotions that drove me to eat them. Just like it is easier to stay in a relationship which is not fulfilling than to face the emotions of loss and loneliness that come with saying goodbye. Don't tell me I'm crazy, sooo many women have done this with past boyfriends. And for me the eat-junk-when-not-hungry triggers are usually stress, loneliness, or boredom.

Some of the book is a little "Out there," and talks about "oneness," "deep meditation," but for the most part, I am really enjoying the insights that have popped in my head while reading--my "Aha moments," to use an Oprah phrase. The best of these has to be gratitude. I must be grateful for what I have now and be kind to the person I am now, or I will end up a skinny person with fat emotional wounds. In an effort to be honest on this blog I have spoken of flab, cellulite, particular eating binges, and other eternal sins of a women on a weight-loss program. According to the book, this is called "Shaming myself." While I do want to be more positive, I can't promise that I won't throw in a few silly jabs, and quips about my failures--I am a silly person, and I'd rather laugh at myself than cry. BUT I will be nicer to me because I know that my value as a person is not in my weight. My dearest friend said to me the other day, "I've seen your weight fluctuate over the years, but really, I don't care, because you are a good person, and you are my friend." (Sorry S. if I didn't get it exactly right). So it might sound like I have a wonderful excuse to give up--beauty is on the inside. I'm not giving up. When I drop the emotional weight by believing in and valuing myself, the physical weight follows, because I know I deserve to be healthy.

Just two short posts ago I lamented about bathing suit season, well, I returned those men's board shorts (I forgot men don't have hips). Our little family went to the beach for memorial day and I wore my black one-piece and a knee-length, breezy cover-up. I was holding my daughters hands as the surf washed over her legs while hoisting my cover-up above my knees to allow the water to pass. Not only was the stance awkward, but it was no fun. So we ran back to our towels, I whipped off my cover-up and ran back down to the water with my little girl--white, prickly, mushy, legs and all. I decided if the strangers didn't like what they saw--there were many other places to look, it's the OCEAN. With just my bathing suit, I was able to dance in the water and play Run-away-from-the-waves. I was certainly not a swimsuit model, but I was GREATFUL for my body--without it I could never learn to run another 5K, swim in the ocean with my favorite little person, or glide on the elliptical next to that creepy guy. Half-naked on the beach, I felt free.

My new biggest fan

I am a person very guilty of living by the mantra, "If everyone likes me, everything is fine." Wouldn't it be funny if someone toll-painted that quote on a decorative, wood, wall-piece to hang above their hearth in place of "Home is where the heart is." I guess my in-your-face saying would be honest but defiantly a little jarring and awkward for the guests.

I've said many times that I NEED your comments, and really I HAVE needed them to feel validated, worthwhile, and accepted. But I have come to the realization that when I am out there sweating like a dehydrated pig, or making choices about what to eat, unfortunately I am usually by myself and don't have the benefit of your motivating comments. So I am working on something new--becoming my own biggest fan. Not in a narcissistic way, but in a healthy, "Self, you can do this, and you know you can," way. Please feel free to comment, and I will comment back--but do not feel obligated. If I continue on my weight loss journey depending on other people, I will end up a skinny person full of self-doubt. I have come so far, and I have worked so hard, but a voice inside still sometimes says "You haven't worked hard enough." And it is this voice that makes me want to give up and just be what I think I am--a Fatty. So as head of my own fan club here is my first comment to myself--Good job working hard and allowing yourself to not be perfect, because no one is.