in which Kitteh shrinks away oodles of fluff

Archive for the ‘Angreh Kitteh’ Category

#doingitanyway

A facebook friend of mine uses this hashtag when she goes to the gym and does not want to. I am not going to the gym, but that pretty much describes my weekend.

Getting back on track as a CONCEPT is always more fun than doing it. Since starting on Wednesday, I did NOT:

-eat bread at Longhorn with the family, or order anything even quasi-carby like sweet potato (just veggies) and I did not even eat all of my entree, saved half for another dinner

-eat birthday cake at EITHER of two parties I attended with my kids

-eat anything naughty at sushi with the family

-touch any of the dozens of bits of leftover NYE candy, which I meant to take to church group and forgot

-touch any of the bite sized brownies that were left over from what I had to buy at the last minute to replace the dessert I was supposed to bring (see above, epic fail)

-drink anything off plan, even when gaming through the weekend at night with DH

-Cheat in any way

As a reward, I am… no, wait. No reward yet. 🙂 I am still above pre-holiday weight-lost 11 lbs the first day (yeah, for realz) then several more, then bounced up when I contracted some sort of tummy bug that has made NOT eating off plan more tricky, since the fiber in the Noms can be hard on a sensitive tummy.

BUT. BUUUUUUUT. I am confident that the reward WILL come. Like last January, I am not even going to ask the “is it working” question until at least March. Because by then, I will see it working.

Sorry for the bleh post–I was sick all night, and as a “reward” my body weighed… two pounds heavier. Yeah, not surprising, that’s how my body ALWAYS does when I am sick. But it is still annnnoy-ring, as No. 2 would say. 🙂

Moanday – for realz

I have let myself get completely exhausted.

First, there were the things beyond my control: a lot of travel in a row, two sick kids, a lot going on at school and church. Then there were the things I COULD control: my bedtime, my water intake (nothing makes me feel more exhausted than being dehydrated) and my food. Finally, I forgot (for realz) until early last week that I was running an all day thing on Saturday that would have me leaving the house at 7 am on the one day I usually get to rest – and I was reassigned a role in the program on Friday at 10pm that had me up until almost 2 writing my presentation.

To top it off, I missed my last work packet on Friday because the Saturday team was going to have an early dinner while we worked. Then dinner didn’t show until late. And when it finally got there, I looked at my oh-so-virtuous order (chicken kabobs with veggies and a Greek salad) and saw that the entire thing was nested in rice.

I ate it anyway. ‘

I didn’t eat the rice, or the pita that came with the salad, but I ate the chicken without scraping off every last rice bit.

So let’s review: take a tired kitteh, dehydrate her, deny her the Noms for several extra hours, and feed her some rice bits. Any guesses as to what happened? If you think “raging carb cravings within an hour” you are SPOT ON. I resisted them all that night, throughout the torture of being awake until 2am plus, but when confronted with the brunch food at the event (“it’s just eggs!”) I caved. FYI? QUICHE is NOT just eggs. So I ate quiche. And fruit. And I had no business touching any of it, but by the time I was done I realized I was going to have to detox AGAIN for the third time since July and I am REALLY IRKED at myself.

Not for the going off plan, but for the getting myself so worn down and tired and dehydrated that going off plan seemed the easiest thing to do.

It is NOT easy. It is NEVER easy. Because getting back on plan is HELL ON EARTH and it gets easier and easier, the longer you are off, to put off the process.

End result: I am nearly comatose right now. Last night at 11:17 pm, I got sick of the whole being a sick exhausted mess, and went to bed. So I snagged almost seven hours sleep, broken up by the fact that No. 2’s sinus infection seems to be moving into his chest (despite being on an antibiotic) and he coughed all night. It was not enough. But it was a start.

So here I am, moaning.

Now, nefar-fear. i am not moaning for no reason. I am here to tell you that I have had my epiphany (right about 11:17, in fact).

It will not be easy to get back on plan. In fact, “Hell On Earth” is a fair assessment. It will require fortitude and discipline, both of which are in short supply when you are exhausted. But I am going to treat this as if I were ill (I will be soon for realz if I don’t). Early bed. Coddling as best I can manage it. Because the fact is, as hard as it is going to be to get BACK on plan, it is easier RIGHT NOW than it will be if I cheat at lunch. Or if I am off the rest of today. Really, it will get harder and harder. And I am NOT willing to gain weight back. And I am NOT willing to end the year at less than 50 lbs down (275) and in fact, I am NOT CONTENT WITH 50, unless I have done everything I can to move past it and I am stalled.

So, here’s a reminder, insidious little tired kitteh: You said NO to this for the YEAR. The YEAR is not over. Do not even THINK about touching anything off plan.

Suit woes

I think I forgot to tell you that the suit I ordered as an experiment from the cheaper place was a total BUST. They brought in the suit (late) and the skirt fit (although looser than I would have liked in the waist) but the jacket WOULD NOT GO OVER MY ARMS. SERIOUSLY? I had lost nearly 2 inches in each arm since the fitting (and a little over 20 lbs) so I was seeing red. What was REALLY bad is that the stupid salesgirl tried her very best to blame me – “are you sure you lost weight?” Yes. YES I AM SURE, you Beeyoch. And so I got a full refund, but only after waiting 10 weeks and losing another 20 lbs.

My present suit LITERALLY hangs off me. If there was such a thing as a fat scarecrow, this is what she would look like. UGH.

And today I have a hearing, so here I sit, in my humongous suit. I am trying to focus on the good – this is the GOAL, after all – and not on the TOTAL SUIT FAIL and how I am not going to like standing in front of the judge and with opposing counsel in an ill fitting nightmare of a suit, looking WORSE than the last time I saw them instead of better.

Sigh. OK.  Just had to get that off my chest.

Today scale said 285.4, so we are on our way back down. The Saturday I left for my trip I was at 285 that morning (bouncing has continued unabated, as you can see) so I am .4 up from the trip still and hopefully falling.

This weekend is the ladies retreat for our church. I am running it and doing three different lessons, so I will be running like crazy. Hoping to come home having beaten past that 284 mark. 🙂

Got a new scale…

I’d planned to wait to buy one, but then when walking out at Walgreens after obtaining drugs for sick kiddos (strep) I saw a scale rated to 330 lbs on sale for $10, so I bought it. Then I started the trauma of converting scales. 🙂

The good news is, I weighed last night and again this morning on both old and new scales, and the spread was the same both times. The bad news is, it was at 6.5+ on the new. Of course, had it been a drop, I would have kept it wihtout comment 😉 but since it is a plus, I went ahead and added 6.5 to all my past weights so that I can go to the new scale without messing up my cute little line on TargetWeight with a random jump. And as my friend said, at least earlier rather than later in the process. 🙂

On the bright side, the scale is rated to 330 and brand new, so I expect precision in daily weights if not accuracy, which means I can determine if my weight really IS swinging as wildly as it appears. Also, this scale shows tenths of a pound instead of halves, so I should see results more regularly.

The only downside is the +6.5, which means that as of today I am at 307.6 (another random “up”) and have 8.6 to go to get to target 299. Iz VERRA AGGAVATIN after being within a pound of it for so long.

 

Also aggabatin in the fact that my “last two week” report now shows me losing less than a pound a week, because of all the ups and downs and bouncies. The slope is almost FLAT.

Trying to talk myself into being DETERMINED instead of ANGRY, I have lectured Lil Kitteh that:

That’s still a loss – quit and you will be same or even headed up again, which is not acceptable.

If you want to try and go faster, you have options – burn more calories by getting back to WATP instead of just T-Tapp, drop the 50-100 cal of peanut butter you have been putting on your night time brownie, drop the cheese entirely from dinner. I think for now, I am going to try one and two.

And: it isn’t like you have a better option, or that whinging makes it easier or faster, so (lovingly, Lil Kitteh) I say, shut it.

Sigh.

And by the way…

It’s a damn good thing I decided not to care whether I see results. Because this is the nth day in a row that the scale has said 301, 302, or 303. Today it says 302.

I’m going to say this: either it is not effective at my weight (possible) broken (possible) or I am stuck (possible).  

But it doesn’t matter, because if I keep doing this, I will eventually lose enough that it  moves, right? RIGHT?

I will also say this: if I weren’t weighing myself every day, I would say I am definitely making progress. I continue to both look and feel smaller and to feel overall better/have more energy.

So should I stop weighing myself, even though my cute little app gives me so much data to play with? Dunno. Right now I am just trying to be straight with you myself – I am frustrated. But I am NOT quitting. And I am hoping that by focusing on how ANGEREH dis make Shrinkin Kitteh:

 

 

can convert dat angreh into determination!

Horrible “Before” Photos, Check

Got a package last week from my inlaws that included a set of prints from their Christmas visit. All taken by my FIL, the world’s WORST photographer, and some on Christmas morning, when I was, shall we say, not at my best.

(Let me just interject that one of the hardest part of parenting life for me to adjust to was the idea that we would have OTHER PEOPLE in our home on Christmas morning. I didn’t grow up that way – to me, it is one of the most intimate family moments of the year – and having people there, even my beloved inlaws, was very hard. Having Other People With Cameras kind of made me freaky nuts, but I can’t do anything about it. I know, you are thinking you have a way around it, but you are wrong. Trust me on this.)

These pictures were the most gawdawful thing I have ever seen. Think this:

Only less attractive.

It was like a perfect storm of hideousness. I was wearing a soft velour robe in a soft brown that turns out to catch the light in a horrible, glowy way that makes me appear even larger than I am. I was wearing my glasses, which (due to my extreeeeeeme nearsightedness) shrink my eyes to tiny pig eyes. I had my hair up on top of my head in a high pony, making my tiny little head utterly – or should I say udderly – out of proportion to my giant jiggly body. And speaking of udderly? Yeah, you guessed it. No bra. Just nightgown and then robe. I thought the robe was thick enough to make it OK, and I was right as far as nipples go – but with nothing to confine my mammoth knockers, they were aknockin all over the place – wonky, uneven, and frankly repulsive.

Now honestly, I am not one to get down on myself. I like to try and find the bright side. But these pictures – OYE!! They are quite truthfully the most hideous photographs I have ever taken.

After 52 weeks of good behavior, I am hopeful I will be less Hutt-like and more human. But at the very least? That hideous robe is going off to Goodwill NOW.

Happy kitteh iz happy!

W0000t!! 

My nice steady .5 lbs per day took a leap forward today, and I vaulted down another 2.5 lbs, bringing my total to 21.5.  The exciting, dramatic, happiness inducing thing about this?  I am officially into the next set of numbers on the scale.  And it’s a big move – it’s not that second place digit that moved, it’s that third digit.  Oh, OK – I will stop being coy.  I moved OUT of the 3s and into the 2s. And as I told my husband (who so sweetly blinked and said “you were in the 3s? Wow. Great job.”) and one of my weight loss BFFs (who cheered for me): I hate the 2s, but not as much as I hate those 3s.  🙂

So.  To the four of you who read this blog, you now know my dark secret.  Of course, I think you already knew or intuited it, so that’s why I decided to be coy.

But I was talking about this the other day with a friend, and this seems like an opportunity to comment on it.  Why is it that we hide our “number” so much?  I have to think that everyone who is overweight, like me, is well aware that other people know they are overweight.  It’s kind of visible, by definition.

But then, I already know the answer. We hide our number because in our minds (and in reality, too, in some cases – see my husband’s comment), people may know we are fat but they don’t always know we are THAT fat.  Of course, one reason they don’t know is because everyone either hides their number or lies about it.  (I’ve always preferred just hiding it, but I admit I never troubled to correct the number on my driver’s license, which has been carried over from when I was about 21…)

And for people like me, who “weigh heavy” (or as my friend says, “is made of rocks,”) we really don’t look like we weigh what we actually weigh.  And more importantly, we don’t really need to weigh what those insurance charts say we should weigh.

I’ll make it personal.  I have another weight loss BFF who I am pretty sure weights almost 100 lbs less than me.  100 lbs, people!!!  But she is currently wearing a 20/22 pant, where I am wearing a 24/26 pant.  Let’s compare her low number to my high – a size 20 to a size 26.  That’s 3 sizes.  I will guaran-dang-tee you that I will not have to lose 100 lbs to be in a 20.  In fact, I was wearing a 12 when I weighed more than she weighs right now (assuming my guess is basically correct).  100 lbs over 3 sizes = about 34 lbs per size. No way.  When I get down another 34 lbs, I will be in a 20/22, not a 22/24, if past history is any indication.  Leaving me 70 lbs or so heavier than she is, when she is wearing the same size.

This was ever so – when I was wearing a 6/8, people (and I include carnies at fairs) guessed my weight to be between 80-100 lbs. Real number? 125-130.  I won lots of stuffed animals that way. 

The first friend I mentioned, the one who also “weighs heavy”, thinks this is unfair in the direction of “I weigh more than I look like and that isn’t fair because my number is waay bigger.”  I kind of get that, after much head scratching.  Actually, I get it pretty good when I remember being in high school and absolutely MORTIFIED of my number (a whopping 125), even though no one EVER guessed that (including professionals, see above).

To me, I feel like I am cheating.  My number is basically a secret (if you can discount posting it more or less anonymously on this blog).  But my size? it’s right out in the open.  So if you see me in a 20 and assume I weigh 70 lbs less than I do, I am totally cool with that.  🙂

Anyway.  Things are going in very much the right direction.  And I am just too happy about it not to share, even though it means outing the embarrassing facts of my numbers and my size. 🙂 

YAY FOR SHRINKS!

Oh – and to what do I attribute my better success the last week or two?  (I count a steady .5 lb per day as VERY successful, even without the leap downward).  I was going to post about THAT today, not knowing I would have this whole size thing to distract me.

Tune in Monday for my thoughts on the subject. 🙂