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My mother wrote me an email asking if I could recommend a website about diet and exercise. I almost fell off my chair. Can I recommend A website? Jeez, where to begin? I've kept this blog, and indeed, my weight loss efforts very close to my chest this past year. I guess this email means two things: one, she notices that I've lost weight; two, she doesn't know how to type "weight loss" into a search engine. I gave her a lot of reference and assured her that the sampling I sent her was out of infinity. There are loads and loads of websites about losing weight. What I'm worried about is that she will find me. Well, I don't really care if she finds this site. What I do care about is the possible self-censoring that will occur. Having this space to really get down and dirty with what's happening in my head about weight, food, and working out (and getting feedback like a oh so needed mirror from ya'll) has been such a important part of this journey. I don't want to lose my rawness. Exposing the dark, rotten parts will help them dry and shrivel up.
A hearty hello and congratulations on great work to
Finding Muscles! A new kid on the weight loss blog block.
Yesterday: run/walk. Legs are getting cranky. Time for a new pair of shoes.
This Morning: lifting (go shoulders!), walk. Saw spinning instructor at gym. Who berated me for not going to her class this morning. Is this ok? I feel good about leaving the apartment at all, let alone going to the gym. I do what I can, when I can. Back off, spinning lady.
Day two without late night sugar binges. Though cocktails and snacks were consumed after class last night. But they always are.
dignity
Wow. Just, wow. I did not overeat last night. I did lust over someone entirely unattainable over beer and dinner. But I did not come home and gorge myself on dessert. I did stay up very late and write a paper. But I did not rely on chocolate and sugar to do so. I did toss and turn thinking about aforementioned lust. But I did not hit snooze this morning to avoid a run.
So, it
is possible.
Nikki's comment on a previous post reminded me of something that I want to keep thinking about. After coming through a yo-yo process, I see now that my goal needs to shift. My new goal is
to move and eat with dignity. Looking through my posts for the past couple months, it is clear to me that exercising and dieting for weight loss alone don't do it for me. It's not motivating enough. I've made a lot of great changes over the course of this year. But the work isn't done. I still sneak food. I eat and move with guilt, reluctance, self-loathing, and apathy. I know that these feelings won't ever go away entirely. But I want to challenge them. Because, really, I would be happy at my current weight, even considering the recent gain, if I weighed this with respect. That is, if my body wasn't the result of some major emotional battering (aka: emotional eating).
Wow, even writing that paragraph makes me feel sick to my stomach. This topic is obviously a lot more complex than I can permit this morning, with piles of French to translate before 11:30. What I really need to translate is my lofty going of "moving and eating with dignity" into some actual, attainable little changes.
test
I like the idea of knowledge, and the responsibility of knowing, bringing joy. I like the idea that knowing what I have to do to maintain (if not one day improve) my level of fitness is ultimately liberating rather than restricting. I try to remind myself of this joy and freedom while grudging making the right food choices. I try to remember that waking up super early, tired, puffy, and stressed out, to get in some cardio and my second weight lifting session of the week will make me happy. But sometimes it just feels like a whole lot of work. A whole lot of work that I don't want to do. That said, a run down of my activities so far this week:
Sunday: walk, yoga
Monday: spinning and lifting at gym. Sat in the saddle for much of class. Strength seems to be maintained, however, when lifting.
Tuesday: walk/run
Wednesday: walk/run, lifting at home
No significant emotional eating episodes or binges, though I am still eating much more than I need to. And the thought of not doing this makes me incredibly anxious and scared. I also know that now is not a good time to confront that anxiety and fear, so I am trying not to berate myself for the dietary mis-steps.
afraid
I'm thinking about this all wrong. This, being diet and exercise. This, being treating myself with respect. I had a paradigm shift yesterday while reading Spinoza's
Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect. I'm going to explain Spinoza's outlook, then connect it to my struggles with diet and exercise. My connections are due in large part to
Marla's fantastic Health and Fitness Carnival which reminded me of
Yvonne's insightful post. Philosophy and weight loss blogs are like peas in a pod, I tell you.
Spinoza:
Spinoza was a Jewish philosopher writing in 17th century. In the
Treatise, Spinoza suggests that people are not happy because they do not seek true knowledge and knowing. His goal, then, is to explain the four kinds of knowing and offer a method with which people can reach true knowledge. This ultimate knowing, for Spinoza, is direct and unmediated knowledge. But Spinoza doesn't think that this "knowledge" is some abstract bookish learning. Indeed, he rejects Cartesian reliance on instruction and memory. Instead, Spinoza's suggests that this perfect knowledge is
perception inasmuch as he understands knowledge to be a way of looking at something. Knowledge, or reasoning, is not a faculty, but is a light that we cast upon things. In other words, Spinoza wants us to
get it.
Spinoza acknowledges that "getting it" doesn't come easily. He wants us to go through 3 phases of mediated knowledge before finding unmediated perception. And even when we do "get it", he proposes that these flashes of insight will come in intervals. The goal is to find ways to maintain the intervals of insight for longer periods of time.
And this takes work. It takes years of study and training. But the payoff is worth it. Besides the satisfaction that comes from finding truth, Spinoza also suggests that living with the fourth kind of knowing brings joy to life.
My connections:
First, you have to go through steps to get to the promised land. I can't expect to go from A to Z. Everything in between, though frustrating and seemingly unimportant, is actually very significant in that I really won't be able to get to the ultimate destination without the process. The final destination, for me, is living in a way that respects my body. I want to move and eat with dignity. But I can't expect to wake up tomorrow, clap my hands, and say: "I hereby declare that I move and eat with dignity." It just doesn't work that way. I have to make a lot of little changes in order to bring me to that destination.
Next, once I figure out how to move and eat with dignity, it will be immediate. I will "get it." Which , for me, means that it won't be a matter of "doing" but "living." I'm not sure I can articulate this difference well, but I feel it. It's a question of flow, perhaps.
Third,this flow will stop! It will cycle, phase in and out in intervals. This is maintenance. Figuring out how to maintain the flow is part of the knowing.
But, most importantly, I appreciate the joy this knowing brings. Whereas in Christian theology knowledge brings strife and suffering (think Adam, Eve, and the Apple), Spinoza suggests that though knowledge brings responsibility and work, it will ultimately
release one from pain and suffering. With this release comes joy.
And I witnessed last night how restrictive my new habits feel. For instance, when I consider not eating a bunch of sugar in the evening, I get incredibly tense, sad, and anxious. What am I so afraid of?
really
I have to admit, this week I was so far from The Plan that we were not even in the same zip code. Let's review:
1. I did my run/walk 4 times. I lifted twice.
2. I ate whole grains 3 times.
3. I ate salads 3 times.
4. No yoga, though it could happen sometime today.
My deviance from The Plan was not the result of laziness or rebellion or whatever other reasons I'm not losing weight, but my good friend Depression. It's been tough recently. And I know that I didn't stick to The Plan because I am depressed. It is quick clear to me now that I am not depressed because I am not sticking to a Plan. I haven't been overeating. Quite the opposite. Indeed, yesterday was the first day I ate an actual meal in several days.
Yet I have to declare success on another level: I'm getting help. I know that I can put everything back together. I know that "it" won't beat me. I know that I will slowly start to move again. I went out for a great walk this morning. After not leaving the house for a better part of the week, going on a hour long walk is a
big deal.
So, with my next plan, I want to incorporate activities and goals that are good for my mental health. The waistline isn't motivating right now. I also don't want to set high expectations. Really, going on a daily walk is a great goal for me next week. Without further ado, The Plan.
1. Get outside and walk a little everyday.
2. Eat 3 meals a day.
3. Practice yoga.
Basic. But I know this will help. And I know I can do it.
**********
Edited: And I did do it. I went to yoga. After months away from practice. I went to a class at my new gym. Sweat, poured. Toxins, released. Hips, opened. Chest, released. Tears, spilled. Plus, I wasn't the only woman in the class with hairy armpits. That never happens. Then a friend made me dinner and encouraged me to open up. Which I never do. But sort of did. Now I have mountains of French to translate.
own
Another day of imperfections that somehow add up to something like sticking to a plan. I have slept in for 3 straight days, yet somehow manage to fit in working out later in the day. Including an afternoon run today from which my face is still flushed. Go me! I have lost a considerable amount of fitness in these weeks past. But that's ok. I was reminded today how far I have come. This time last year riding my bike to the grocery store took considerable effort. Today, I think nothing of riding or walking as I do my errands. Indeed, I prefer bi-ped errands: much less stressful. The real sign of sliding is, of course, the jeans. And sports bras. They are both super tight. Whatever. Today I don't care. Today I am happy with the changes I am making. I can't do it all at once. And I'm just not ready to let go of those chocolate covered pretzels. Yet.
I wanted to add a session of yoga to this week's Plan. But now I'm having second thoughts. Primarily because I have found it is impossible to deny certain rolls while practicing yoga. All that bending and twisting makes them undeniable. My "I really don't care" attitude is fragile. And I'm not sure I can keep up this positive attitude (that is essential for me to get back out there in the face of impending defeat) while staring at the evidence of my failures.
Hi there, denial, did you miss me? I actually caught myself thinking of excuses, er, lies, for my new found roundness today while running: it's like I was pregnant and working off post-baby weight; or maybe like I was taking steroids and couldn't help it; similar to a thyroid problem, maybe? WTF? Why was I doing this? First, my mind wanders during exercise. I tend to go a little loopy. Second, I'm just a brat in denial. I am this way because I ate too much and didn't exercise. No more excuses. Own it.
spirit
Today I impressed even the perfectionist within. Even though I am so far from perfect.
Because I am so far from perfect, in fact. I woke up late. After hitting snooze for two hours. No kidding. I had 15 mins to shower, dress, and pick up a friend in time for our Meeting. After the meeting, we had a covered dish breakfast. Predictably, there was lots of good food, all of which did not include whole grains. Instead, I feasted on dark, strong coffee, sourdough bread so soft and sour you can imagine the grandmother who passed on the starter, hummus, and a cupcake. Good eating. But I was hurting inside. I felt restless, unsettled, uncomfortable, unhappy. Not an unfamiliar state of late, I'll give you that, but disturbing nonetheless. Anne and I came home, gathered books, and walked down to the river to read. But I couldn't focus. I couldn't sit still. I was sad. We talked. I cried. We read. Then talked some more. We walked home, said our goodbyes, and I planned on dropping off my books before heading down to the grocery store.
Instead, I did the strangest, most odd thing. I put down my books. Pulled on my shorts. Laced up my shoes. And ran. In the late afternoon. On a Sunday. While families strolled, couples cuddled, and sun glares blazed. I ran amongst it all. I usually don't run if I leave the house any later than 7 in the morning. I don't like all the people, because I am always so sure they are staring and wondering what a girl like me is doing running (I know, I have some unfinished self-esteem business ahead). And don't get me started on the sidewalk hogs. But not today. Today I did it! To counter act all the would be stare-ers and judge-ers, I also kept a steady, supportive internal dialogue: "I love you for doing this, you are kicking butt, hey, you are the one running and at least trying, not them, keep it up!" And it worked! Even though it is so incredibly corny that I actually made myself laugh out loud at first. Even though I didn't entirely believe it when I started. By the end of the run, I did believe. And I finished strong and proud.
Lesson learned: stay flexible. I don't have to be perfect to be healthy. When I write it like that it sounds ridiculous. Of course I don't have to be perfect to be healthy! But lately I've been telling myself that if I can't do it right, I shouldn't bother trying. That has to, and will, stop.
I also declare success on The Plan. Even though I only ate whole grains 4 mornings instead of 5. Lifted 2 times instead of three. And only managed 4 salads, not 5. I declare success because this is a helluva improvement from the past couple of weeks. And because, while I didn't enforce the letter of the law, I embodied it's spirit: change and hope. Despite the odds.
begs
Change. I don't embrace it. I like to think that I live a life ever free floating. I move every couple of years. Hairstyle and color changes in the blink of an eye. Clothes, come and gone. But reflecting on my weight history, I always, always, gain weight when I move. The most significant weight gain always come when I move to a new city. But even when I move within the same town, I gain weight. I moved to my "new" (new to me, anyway) condo two weeks ago. Something about the unsettled-ness of it, the boxes, the unfamiliarity, the possible mice around every corner shakes me to my core. I don't handle it well. Actually, maybe I handle it too well. I buckle down and go into survival mode. Eat, watch TV, pace nervously all night long. In other words, go fetal. I have to give into it to a certain extent, but I have to keep fighting for me, and all the positive changes that I made this year.
So far this week, I have stuck to the plan.
I'm ending this early. I'm listening to a re-broadcast of last week's episode of This American Life. And I can't write about my silly struggles with weight anymore.
lull
It's been forever and a day since I've written. These past few months have been filled with backsliding, in the form of eating and gaining weight. Recently, it's gotten worse. I've even stopped exercising in these past couple of weeks. All of my pants are uncomfortable. And I pulled out some level 2 Fat Pants this morning (level 2 are not the fattest of the fat pants. The fattest of the fat would be level 1). Eating has been shameful. All the good stuff like pizza, flourless cake, chips, and, you guessed it, chocolate covered preztels. I'm scared. And feeling sick. Physically, sick, slothful, and soft. Emotionally, I'm sick and tired of comforting myself with junk and no exercise. I'm going through a doozy of a depression/anxiety thing. I can't sleep, I can't work, and I can't think about the joys of salad, lifting weight, and running. I'm living day to day. Doing whatever I can to dull the pain, take away the fear, lull myself into a sugar spun cocoon of deception that everything is ok.
But everything is not ok. I need to grow up, accept that, and move on.
I also need to get my head out of the refrigerator long enough to see what is happening to all these healthy habits I worked so hard to establish.
I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of struggling with my weight. I'm tired of eating myself sick. I found myself wishing there was some kind of pill I could take to fulfill my energy requirements so that I wouldn't have to eat. How fucked up is that? I remember having the same thought when I was in high school and decided to stop eating.
I know I can do this. But I don't want to. It is hard enough for me to leave the apartment and function. Why should I have to function on salad? But I always get confused if the depression is the result of diet, or if the diet is the result of depression. It is probably more complicated than either of these options, I'm sure that the two go hand in hand. So I'm in therapy, dealing with it all. And I know from experience that things will get worse before they get better. The question is, do I have to gain 30lbs in the process?
Or maybe this focus on weight isn't the key right now. Because, honestly, while I'm annoyed at the weight gain, and hate admitting it here, gaining weight obviously isn't enough to keep me motivated to make good choices. But I know that getting some exercising and improving my diet will improve my mental health. I also know that I need structure right now. I've been getting really cocky and comfortable with my eating and exercise behavior. But I need to bring it down a level while I begin, again.
To that end, I implemented A Plan this week.
1. Get 30 mins of aerobic exercise 5 days a week. 3 days of run/walk (5 mins run, 2 min walk intervals...it is truly amazing how quickly I've lost my fitness level); 2 days Precor
2. 3 days a week: lift weight at the gym
3. Eat a salad as a meal 5 days a week
4. Eat whole grains for breakfast 5 days a week
Next week I will add: practice one session of yoga or tai chi each week
Note that neither quantity or dessert will be monitored. I need to establish exercise before I can do anything drastic.
Argh, I don't know. I've been avoiding this confession for a while now. Honesty begs for change. And I don't know how much change I can handle right now.
Thank you for your nice comments regarding the pictures. Those are good photos of me, which is why I posted them. Honestly, I didn't think at the time that I looked that thin. Collarbones!? And I am certainly not that thin now, though probably not really that much heavier. I would guess somewhere between an additional 10-15 lbs.
I've been reading all your blogs on the sly. I just haven't been posting because of my weight-gaining-avoidance thing. But don't think that I'm not out there, lurking away.
since
I can't believe that it's been this long. Since I've posted. Since I've had a day off work. Since I've put effort into a healthy diet. Since I've felt invigorated and alive. I haven't posted because nothing has changed. I haven't posted because everything changed. I haven't posted because I've been busy. I haven't posted because I'm bored. All of it. True. All of it. False. I haven't posted.
Work ended. Classes started. TAing began. Moved occurred. Sister visited.
My eating habits have not improved. My jeans are officially uncomfortable. I've still been working out, though not as often as I normally would. Two weeks of moving/teaching/studying overload effectively ended my usual lifting routine. I won't make promises or imagine unrealistic turn arounds. Because that's not how it goes. If anything, the road back will be slow. And difficult. That's what I need to remind myself of. It's not like I will wake up one day and be super excited to eat lots of salad. I need to remember how good it feels to treat myself well, and go back to that spot. I'm worried that I've been on this crap-food trip for so long that it will take a big wake-up call, like watching my weight climb back up to 190 lbs, for me to change my ways. Actually, I'm running scared of that thought. It doesn't seem that far away. I've been over-eating for over two months now. Something has to give. And it will my pants before anything else. I know I can change this. I've done it before. I will do it again.
I've been hesitant to post pictures of myself for fear of judgment and loss of anonymity. But, fuck it, here you go. These were taken at a recent wedding. I'm the one who isn't beautiful.
Don't say I didn't warn you
