Baby Steps

Living with the band is slowly changing my habits and lifestyle bit by bit.

*Breakfast:  A few bites of leftover pizza.  I had to put away the rest.  It just wasn't gonna go down...not even with that cuppa coffee.  So I called it quits...
*Lunch on the go:  I ordered a chicken sandwich, picked off half the bun, ate a few fries...and I was done.  It took 30 minutes for me to do this.  I used to wolf this meal down (large fries too with a full diet coke) in under 6 minutes...
*Dinner-A few bites of rice, which I didn't enjoy.  So I settled on a salad.  Felt a little stuck so it took 25 minutes to eat half of it before giving up.  Managed to finish it an hour later.

And that's ALL, folks!

So yes, maybe these food choices aren't the perfect "diet" food-but I love how the band prevents me from gorging and binging.  I'm getting there...a few bites at a time.

BTW-I've exercised every day this month!!!  So I bought myself a new pair of yoga pants...and hubby sounds my be-hind is looking HOTTTTT!!!!!

Kissing Onederland

My scales have been kissing onderland (thanks Libby for that expression!) on and off for the past week.  What a tease those scales are!!!  Sitting at 200 lbs is a stalling point for me.  I have been here before....then ballooned again with another 30 plus pounds-in the blink of an eye.  The 200 number makes me nervous and antsy-which makes me wanna snack on salty chips....  Why? Why? Why???  Why is this barrier so difficult-emotionally & physically???  Why do I sabotage myself when I get to this point???  I want to be DONE with this number.  But I'm not eating like it.  On the good news front, I have managed to keep my goal of daily exercising (...and have even liked it a few times...there-I said it).  But I know that I also need to "diet" and eliminate carbs.... the thought of which makes me wanna pilfer my pantry.  So at the end of the day-I need to FIGHT for the the 90's.  And I guess I'm tired of fighting, honestly...  The truth is I wanna slide into the 90's without having to work it...   And we all know that ain't gonna happen....never does.  So  I gotta muscle my way through...  So I'm considering a new goal:  195 by Jan 31st... and that means protein shakes...and control...and perserverance...and saying NO to the salty crap...  and kicking my inner lazy-whiny-fat bitch-to the curb!  ....sigh...  Maybe...

Dysfunctional Scales

I have been weighing myself on an ancient, rusted set of bathroom scales for ages now.  These scales were cheap when I bought them-and have not improved with age.  They're banged and dented and dusty.  But I keep stepping on them anyway.  And in spite of the fact that I have to squint to see the numbers, I have to adjust the needle each time I step on them,  I never get two consecutive readings (she's a fickle bitch!), and they are around 4-7 lbs off (to my favor) from the doc's scales, I cannot throw them away.  And hubby has threatened to on several occasions.  He even wanted to buy me a new set for Xmas.  But the thoughts of losing these scales creates a flutter of anxiety in the pit of my gut.   No!!!!  And start my day without being taunted and haunted?!?  Inconceivable!...  We've been fighting the good fight now for ages.  She's seen me through every horrifying number-back and forth we've made this agonizing journey together.  Simply:  she's been my reality-in spite of her imperfections.  So for the past few days I've been getting up all bleary eyed at the crack of dawn to stand naked (after peeing) on a particular floor tile to weigh in on her after adjusting the needle 7 times (oh! the rituals we suffer....) and because of the dim lighting and the inconsistent readings...she's been toying with me, playing mind games...  but this morning I was ready for her... she can no longer deny the truth.  I am sitting in onederland.   I haven't seen this number since 1998.... I thought this moment would involve a parade, a marching band, a full page add in the paper, and naked cheerleaders.  However, I am feeling a much more quiet and resolute pride than I expected.  Kinda like the climbers who stand on the top of Mt. Everest and report that what you expected to feel is not quite as poignant as expected-considering the mind numbing effort it took to get there.  Because the reality is those climbers have to get down that mountain-a much more difficult feat than the ascent.  And I too have further to go.  But I am here....finally... and glad of it.  And those 'ol scales...fickle-hard-to-please-untrustworthy-bitch that she is... she's gonna be right there with me when we get to the bottom....grudgingly showing me the way.

Oh, %$#!

I nearly blew my resolution on Day 2 of the New Year -that is, daily exercising for 31 days in January.  I had had a great day until my ah-ha moment struck:  church with family, a movie with girlfriends, a late coffee/lunch out...  And then it hit me at 9:22 PM as I sat in my comfy jammies, reliving the day with hubby when a weight loss commercial flitted across the TV screen... Oh, %$#!  I FORGOT!!!...  Hubby and I sit in silence for 5 seconds...when he hollers up the stairs for the boys to get off the XBOX and let your mom do her exercise video!  So yes, I got out of the comfy jammies (ie: put on the bra) and wearily climbed the stairs for a 15 minute yoga session...  and you know what...???  I am sooooooo GLAD I did.  I felt...good...stronger...resolute.  And guess what???  The world will not implode if you exercise after the sun goes down...  Good to know...

The Power of Eleven

Although odd numbers creep me out (who knows why???), I'm gonna embrace this freaky number and herald in the New Year with 11 Wacky Intentions.

In 2011, I want....

1.  11 more lbs gone from my life...FOR GOOD...never to return again.  Hit the road Jack, and dontcha come back no more, no more, no more, no more!!!
2.  11 more blogs to read of women whose daily life inspire me, surprise me, or just plain'o amuse me.
3.  Lipgloss...11 more shades...definately!
4.  11 more followers on this blog...
5.  11 more good books to read...
6.  11 fewer gray hairs might be nice too.........
7.  11  trips to the pool...feeling comfortable in my skin
8.  11 protein shakes...and THAT'S it!  bleckkkk!!!
9.  11 compliments about my changing physique...
10.  ...and then give away those 11 compliments to other women who really need it as much as I do...
11.  11 months of perfect restriction!!!

Happy 2011!!!

%$#! Exercise

I hate it.  As simple as that.  So please don't try to convince me otherwise.  It'll only make me hate you, too.  But I know it works...And it's good for you (eye roll!...sigh!)  But still.  I hate it.  However, after an overloaded carbo-sweet-holiday-orgy-athon, it's time for some restraint and moderation, a semblance of living with intention and purpose.  And in spite of how much I hate exercise, I have in the past had some success with it.  So I am going to resurrect my annual January challenge to walk for 31 days in a row-10 minutes (minimum) daily.  And yes, it's the worst time of year for cold, miserable, unpredictable weather.  And although my daily goal of 10 minutes may seem pathetic to some-it's not the intensity of exercise that I'm trying to accomplish-or really even weight loss.  My real challenge is about keeping a promise to myself-to honor my commitment to self-just as I would keep a promise to a friend.  How is it that we will kill ourselves to keep our word to others but so casually lie, defraud, defy, and let down ourselves???  So my January challenge is about honoring my intentions, making them a priority, and practicing  sacrifice in spite of my (temporary & mild) discomfort. 

So here's to thirty one days-thirty one promises kept!!!  Woohoo!!!  ...and please expect some whining & bitching... just keeping it real, folks.

Therapy? or Not...?

Like most lapbanders, I had my required psych eval and some therapy before surgery.  This was a painful process for me since I'm a private, can-handle-it-myself kinda gal.  And although I only had 5 sessions, these sessions went deep into the quick and marrow of my soul-a murky, sad place at best.  And of course it stirred up the silt on the bottom and clouded my view of myself... but strangely gave me some clarity as well.  But because the process was so painful and brought my issues to the surface-which made them harder to shove down into those murky depths and ignore-I jetted out of the therapist's office as soon as I had my approval letter for surgery, vaguely promising to make another appointment as soon as I "recovered."  Well....since then I've spent a lot of time thinking about therapy...and whether I should return...or not.  One of the surprising things about those sessions is that we never discussed weight loss or some of the relationships that I thought were driving my eating...  And to her credit, this therapist was nobody's fool.  Charming, clever, funny, and smart didn't work on her...  Her persistent nudging and refusal to follow my false leads took me into scary, new territory.  And I respect that.... kinda.  So as 2011 approaches and I think about new goals (both weight loss & personal), I am wrestling with the therapy issue.  Does all that talking really matter?  It certainly doesn't alter the facts...  Do I want to resurrect old demons?  Can they really be slain and buried...for good???  I guess the fact that I even ask the question is answer enough...  I NEED therapy.  I just don't WANT it. So it looks like in 2011 I will be waging two battles:  one for my physical health and another for my soul's liberation.  ...sigh...