A Doctor's Word

I was talking with (okay, emailing with, but let's not split hairs) my Weight Watchers buddy today, and she told me a story about her doctor that got me thinking.

As part of this whole love-my-body, self-care trip I'm on, I've been trying to go back and pinpoint when, and more importantly, why my relationship with food and my body image went wrong. It's a multifaceted issue, not one easily dissected in a blog post, but one particular event stands out in my mind.

When our family practician retired, my Mom continued to take us to the woman who had taken over for him in the office. It made sense, the offices were familiar, and finding a new doctor is a huge hassle, so why not.

This woman, we'll call her Dr. G to protect her, was no MD ingenue. She'd been around a while. This probably made my Mom more confident in making the switch. The first time I went to see her, I was a young teen. Maybe thirteen or so. She examined me, frowned, wrote on her chart. She released me to my mother with my health form for school in hand, my Mom payed for the visit, and we left.

Somewhere during that process I looked at the medical form for school. This is what I saw, on a piece of paper that would be in my file. At. School.

OBESE.

In reality, it was one of three checked off items in a long column, but in my head, in my heart, it looked that. Huge. Red. Seething with shame.

I was fat.

I was too ashamed to ask my mom what she thought. The doctor hadn't said anything to me. She'd just left a ticking time bomb of horror and fear and shame in a teen-aged girl's hands.

When I think about it, I still get a swooping sense of vertigo and burning embarrassment. Looking back on it through far older and hopefully wiser eyes, I feel rage for that girl. Silent and horrified that she'd both betrayed and been betrayed by her body.

You see, before that I knew that I wasn't the skinniest girl in school, but I wasn't the fattest either. I wasn't super into sports, and I had developed a few dangerous eating habits due to the availability of crappy food both in my school's cafeteria and at the house I went to after school for a few hours before my parents got home from work. I had a pretty strong sense of self at that point. I can see it start to erode from that day until some time in my twenties when I found myself again.

Seeing that word, with no actual knowledge to back it up made me retreat into the fat-girl corner. If you've ever been a fat girl, you know about the corner. It's quiet and dark and lonely, and no one notices you.

Ultimately, I was too much of an extrovert to stay there, so I became the happy, funny, smart girl in order to combat the feelings of inadequacy that develop from poor body image and general teen-age angst. I was akward about my body, which translated to awkward with boys, so boys weren't interested in dating me--which is a feedback loop of misery. Even if they didn't know it at the time, I was an emotional molotov cocktail, and I thank my friends and family for loving me enough to keep it from breaking open and destroying me.

I wonder now, would things have been different if the doctor had said to me, "I'm concerned about your weight. I'd like to see you try to get more exercise. How about riding your bike? And I want to help you make better choices when you eat. Try more fruits and veggies, and less snacks."

I'm fairly certain the teen-aged me would have been embarrassed, dismissive, and surly. Surely, though, after a conversation like that, the word, the awful word, might not have had such a lasting impact.

It's very likely I would have struggled with my weight no matter what, but that secret pain, just under my skin, never made it any easier.

The Knight Errant, Just As I Am

I've tagged all my weight and body image posts with "Knight Errant" since I first broached the topic. I think that it's because I see myself, wandering through different attempts to work though my difficulties with food and eating and fitness, always wanting to prove that I am worth my ideal body, but ultimately not loving myself enough to follow through.

from Wikipedia:

A knight-errant (plural: knights-errant) is a figure of medieval chivalric romance literature. "Errant," meaning wandering or roving, indicates how the knight-errant would typically wander the land in search of adventures to prove himself as a knight, such as in a pas d'Armes.

Back in January, I hinted at a secret project with a projected end date. That date came and went this past Saturday, and while I didn't post any celebratory updates, I actually succeeded.

I didn't succeed in any of the ways that I thought I would, but I think the ways in which I did are more constructive and positive.

I set out, 129 days ago, to lose some of the post baby weight and get in better shape before my 15th high school reunion. That, technically, didn't happen.

Here's what did happen: I gained 10 pounds, and came to a decision. I must not hate myself for being overweight anymore. I cannot continue to want to be thin because this is better. Instead, I want to be healthier because I deserve the best health I can achieve, for myself, for my family. I want to be a Mom who can run and play with her young son. I want him to have a positive role model and a realistic image of womanhood, not someone starving herself to be thin because thin is better.

That decision prompted me to return to Weight Watchers meetings nine and half weeks ago. I've been paying attention to physical hunger, to why I reach for food, and what I reach for. I started taking care of myself, dressing the body I have now, and forgiving myself when I make bad choices.

I got the opportunity to test drive a WiiFit about a month ago, and a funny thing happened. For the first time since I can't remember how long, I'm excited about exercise. I've been on that balance board more than twenty out of the last thirty days. I've lost the ten pounds I gained back, plus one and a half more. The WiiFit tells me I am stronger, more physically balanced, and I am more attuned to myself than I've been in a while. I am enjoying becoming healthier.

I recently reread an old post in which I come clean about food and addictions and some of my struggles. I had a flash of wisdom there, and I'm going to try to remain mindful of that while I'm loving myself--in the immortal words of Bridget Jones and Mark Darcy--just as I am.

115 Days

Just a quick note to let you all know that I'm still working on that project of mine. I had some trouble getting motivated to start, but I think I've got a plan. I'm well into it now, and it seems doable.

Thanks for keeping me accountable, simply by reading.

The Wagon Came 'Round Again, So I'm Climbing Back On

Do you ever have the feeling there's a zamp in the lamp? No wait... That was Felix's naptime story... (Yay Dr. Seuss!) I've been in a decline since the whole job thing exploded on me, and it's physical, too. I've put on more weight, I'm more out of shape... I'm too broke to join a gym or go back to WW meetings, so I've let it slide. Bad idea, right?

Well, I found a free site for food journaling (something, which I know doesn't work for everyone, but it very much works for me), and registered myself. I've spent a lot of my free time today getting it set up, and documenting my meals and activity. I even hauled myself out and spent an hour and a half raking the lawn (more tomorrow! love those leaves!), which was nice, because Felix and I, and the dogs, could be outside, and I was still getting a workout.

I'm going to try it for a week, and reevaluate its usefulness. I'll report in on that here, in the name of full(ish) disclosure. Wish me luck.

Also, I might have some more interviews... fingers crossed.

Thinking About Thinking About Eating

It's a funny thing... When I get serious about watching my food intake, I always turn back to Weight Watchers, because I was once so very successful there, and I understand and approve of their methods. One of the things I've always appreciated about Weight Watchers is that the program recognizes that for a lot of us, eating is just as strong an addiction as cigarettes or alcohol or pharmaceuticals. It can be just as physically damaging (though in very different, sneaky ways) if left unchecked, but food addiction has one characteristic all its own. You need the object of your addiction to survive. How do you draw the line between eating to fuel your body and eating to satisfy whatever demon is gnawing at you? I struggle with that all the time.

Mark, for instance, smoked for 12 years before he quit (a wheel set in motion largely by me), and for him, cold turkey was the way to go. He just stopped. He can even have a couple of smokes once or twice a year without falling off the wagon. I envy that restraint. I can't just stop eating. The results would be extreme illness or even death, right? So, I have to stay on top of the demons at all time. I have to constantly monitor whether I'm looking for a snack because I'm actually hungry, or because we're celebrating or I'm depressed and chocolate tastes good, or because I'm bored and something crunchy would occupy the time.

You would think, then, that the thing I need to do is stop thinking about food all the time, right? Here's where the funny thing comes in. I actually think about food more when I'm staying on plan. I plan out what I'm going to have for my meals. I mentally juggle points to make the most of a situation. I'm figuring out how many pretzels I can have to go with that midmorning banana and not blow my chance to add a little bite of brownie for dessert later in the day. I play head games with myself. Ok, your tummy is rumbling, so you're really hungry. Wait 20 minutes and then you can reevaluate. Or, knit three more rows and you can get some carrots and hummus to tide you over until dinner. And, drink more water, it'll fool your stomach for five more minutes.

This has all been on my mind since I jumped back onto the wagon on Monday. I got on the scale, and when I came to again, I started planning and journaling and exercising. I've been the eating equivalent of sober for three days. I feel great about it. I'm also exhausted by it. I know I'm capable of losing the extra weight, and even exorcising the demons for a while. I've done it before, but I feel into the classic trap. I thought I was "cured." Then, I met Mark, and got fat and happy. Happy's good, right? Complaceny? Not so good. Still happy in that sense, but a few years of complacency and baby weight are carving away at the core of me. It's hard to wholly happy when you feel a horrible sense of loathing towards an aspect of yourself.

So, I'm trying again. I'll likely fall off again. I'll have to climb back on. But the process gives me back a little of the self respect I've been missing. Hopefully, the little bit will snowball into the willpower and determination that got me through last go 'round.

Self Care Diary: Day One

I have not been taking good care of me lately. I've made some changes in external appearance, which make me feel a little more confident, but I've shied away from some of the more important behavioral changes that are so very important if I'm to succeed at my goals. So, in that spirit, when I do good things, I'm going to post here, and hope that a visual record of positive accomplishments will help me to keep caring.

• 30 minutes on the elliptical
• walked both trips to preschool: @2.4 miles
• apples and carrots, lots of water
• vitamins
  

Ellipticals Come to Those Who Take Up Their Own Cause!

There are a million ways to spin the idea that if you are bold, the universe rewards you. I like to think that the universe rewards courageous acts, but how you define courage is as personal as religion or politics.

Well, I have been courageous in my small way. I have decided to love myself again.

What in blue blazes does all this have to do with elliptical trainers, you ask?

When I was younger and single, before mortgages and the price of heating oil going through the roof, and too stupid to notice I wasn't getting enough sleep, I would haul my cookies off to Mike's Gym in Medford at least three mornings a week for a 5:15 session on an elliptical trainer. I love them! Easy on my knees and ankles, challenging, and effective! I tones up fast and lost a fair amount of weight. I stayed motivated for years on that thing. Sometimes I would even hit the elliptical for an extra 45 minutes after my Sunday yoga class.

Then, gradually, job, husband and child, suburban commute and finances conspired to rid me of my gym membership, and my will to go to the gym along with it.

Well, yesterday I bought a stability ball, since I like sitting on them, and when used properly they're supposed to be great for your core. I've got a bunch of exercises for it from a book I bought, and I got to thinking, if only I had an elliptical. Then I'd have more motivation to do some cardio, too.

What do you know, Mrs. Boss came home a few nights ago and announced that her new elliptical would be delivered by week's end. With my ball coming, too, I've got the tools right here at the "office." Felix even has a reliable nap schedule, so I know I can get that workout in - a big improvement over the chaos of the last year.

Time to buy a new sports bra, I think!

Project Me

Like my pal, Fibby, I've been in a project-y mood this weekend. I've got a few boring household ones, but one of the larger, more revelatory ones is spending a little of my resources on me.

When I got pregnant at the beginning of 2007 I turned inward. My social life slowed down, I was nesting with Mark and the dogs, feathering the nursery, talking to my unborn son. Then he arrived, and bang! I was Mama. My identity sort of got swallowed up in a riptide of hormones and breastfeeding and sleep-learning and exhaustion. Not exactly post partum depression, more like like post partum identity loss.

I've put on some unwelcome pounds, and I started to feel sorry for myself. Yikes!

Suddenly, I found myself feeling lonely and unattractive. I found myself grumpy and irritable. I found myself watching reruns of daytime reality shows like Clean House and What Not to Wear. And like a great big cliche, I saw the light.

I needed to embrace who I am right now, take care of myself a little, and start liking my life. Because really, I have a solid, happy marriage, a healthy son, a home, a job, friends who might still love me if I ever called them....

That said, where does a girl start? Well, for me, it's the material things. Don't judge. I know me pretty well, and I know that I need to feel pretty before I can get down to the hard work. So, I shopped. Judiciously, with coupons and gift cards and free shipping deals. And this weekend, I rebuilt my wardrobe with pretty clothes that fit the me that's here, not the me before Felix, or when I was skinny six years ago or when I was on my honeymoon, or whatever. Just. Me. Now.

I bought red high heeled shoes, and a mock croc bag. I bought a sparkly necklace. And some new unmentionables... Today, I went to run errands in a cashmere sweater, a skirt and cute shoes. With a little mascara and lip gloss on. And you know what? I felt good. Good enough that I fought the urge to buy bad snacky foods. Good enough to stand up straight and smile at people, not just hide behind the carriage full of groceries and baby.

So, Project Me is definitely under way!

Now that I'm moving along on that front, though, there's laundry and dishes and cooking that needs to get done...

Accountability

I'm willing to try new things to succeed at this whole weight loss thing. Anyone who has known me for a few years in the real world, knows I did it once before. The knowing that I have done it, and therefore can do it again, is sometimes more daunting than walking into my first Weight Watchers meeting without a clue more than eight years ago.

Last week, coming off of a few weeks of throwing the whole effort out of the window, I went back to meeting, and I promised myself two things. One, I would journal every bite that went into my mouth, even when I was blowing my day on leftover birthday cake. The other, that I would make every effort to rack up 10,000 steps on my pedometer.

Well, I didn't completely succeed at either goal, but I still managed to take off 2.4 of the pounds that had crept back on while I was throwing it all out the window. Staying for the meeting helped, too.

The truth is, the more I stay constantly vigilant and accountable for my actions, the better I do. It may seem obvious, but it's a fundamental truth at meetings, and it's something I have to struggle with daily.

Strawberries and Ketchup

It's Tax Day. Have you filed?

Today's adventures include...

...spending an extra minute this morning planning what in my bathroom (Yes, my bathroom. Wanna make something of it?) I was going to vacuum with the object of my objectiphilia the new Dyson.

...teething. Yikes. Like a wild animal. My knuckles are bruised from tiny gums working out their pain.

...finding out that the stoooopid Health Care Mega Corporpation, which accidentally canceled our policy a month before they should have, is now refusing claims made during the disputed period. The upside? We used to owe them a month's premiums. Now, they owe me $33.50. In the end, when I pay the one outstanding claim from the month in question in cash, I'll still have $750 in my pocket from not paying for any premiums that month. More evidence that health care insurance is totally messed up.

...O asking for ketchup for his lunchtime chicken nuggets, and then using it as a topping for his fresh strawberries. The upside? Lycopene and vitamin C, people. Antioxidents like you read about!

...cold calling a new dentist to get a crown done on the root canal tooth, since my previous dentist doesn't accept our new dental coverage, and crowns are not cheap.

...discovering that I walk 1.5 to 2 miles every day just around the house and neighborhood. I bought a pedometer this past weekend, and it's been such a great addition to my routine. I'm walking a little more to rack up the steps and get Activity Points added back into my day, and with the pedometer I can actually figure it out, and see my progress as I go. In any case, I feel that any step I can take to get control of my weight loss efforts is a good step.

...noticing that despite everyone hyping Boston's new status as Tinseltown by the Charles, the catering company servicing the filming near the Common is based from LA, New York, and Nashville. Improving the local economy, my left ear.

And just think, it's only just the early afternoon.

Cleaning BlogHouse

I just moved the relevant posts from the "Tales from the Scale" blog to MoMP. I just can't keep up posting in too many places. They are now located under the Knight Errant section of the blog.

Not that everyone should rush to read them. I'm just saying, is all.

Go Read This

If you have ever cried over hating your clothes, or the number on the scale, or hated something about food and your body, go read this woman's words. She's just amazing!

I Will.

I haven't posted from The Scale in months, and that's been indicative of my motivation to take care of myself. New Year's always strikes me as a cliched time to start rehabilitating myself, but clearly I need to do it.

I've never been great at the psychological parts of the Weight Watchers plan. I read the Tools for Living, and I think, "Of course! Common sense." Seldom do I subject myself to the inner scrutiny that using the tools often calls for. I go to meetings, measure portions, make healthy meals, and get on the scale weekly, but my heart isn't always in the game.

Today, while I was on the treadmill (activity! hooray!), I decided that I should state a winning outcome, and re-kick-off the year. If I write it down and put it out there for anyone to read, maybe I'll stay more focused on why I'm really in this, because my reasons have changed.

When I joined Weight Watchers in January 2000, I wanted to be less heavy, to be more attractive to the opposite sex, and to regain my self-confidence, much of which is tied up in body-image. I lost 70 pounds, but before I made it to the weight loss goal, I achieved some of the other goals. I met a wonderful man, to whom I'm now married. I met him because, with renewed self-confidence, I was able to put myself out there and date. I looked good, and I knew it, and that positive image fit the person that I was inside. The trouble is, I never restated why I was losing the weight, and so, with all those other issues resolved, I slipped from the program.

I find myself in a very different place now. It's seven years later, and my needs from my body are different. I'll be 30 in a few months, and now is the time when my body is going to need vigilance. I have to get into the shape I'll need to stay healthy for the rest of my life. There's no more coasting on being "young." I still feel young, but I do need to respect that my body has a lot more work to do before it can give out, not to mention a lot more years.

I also need my body healthy so that we can conceive a healthy child, and that time is coming. The extra pounds I'm carrying aren't helping me to conceive and they may, in fact, be hindering me.. And so, my Winning Outcome.

"I will lose ten percent of my body weight, which will significant reduce health risks associated with being overweight, as well as improve my chances to conceive a healthy child. I will accomplish this goal by holding myself responsible for my food choices and eating habits (planning and journaling), and by exercising no less than three times a week."

In keeping with this goal, today I've planned out my day, journaled my food choices, and taken care of my body by walking for a half hour on the treadmill and completing the Abs and Arms workout from Weight Watchers.

I Heart Saturday Mornings Again

Dragged my ass to meeting this morning, despite wanting to curl up in a ball. I even knew I'd had a great week on program. This rain is making me depressed.

But...

I lost 1.6 pounds!

Holy motivation, Batman...

Hit A Log in the Road

I grew up on a pretty busy street; the kind that looks like a country road, but is driven by locals like it's Formula 1 racing... My dad used to threaten to put split logs in the street to get people to slow down. Obviously he never did, since it would ultimately have led to disaster and destruction - which brings me to The Scale.

My heart is just not in this.

I'm unhappy with my body, I'm out of shape, my triglycerides are too high (though everything else checked out ok!), and I'm never going to be able to handle a vacation in Florida with my stick insect sister-in-law. And yet, I snack. My friend Alta has a website devoted to her weight loss, and it's thrilling to see her success. Can I act on that? I know I can.

But. Will. I?

I found a Couch-to-5K training plan that I can do on the treadmill here at work, and I should really start it today. Instead of blogging. Or knitting. Or eating. And where is that pesky journal again?

Still Rolling Downhill

Lost another 3.6 at this past week's meeting - since that stood for three weeks work, it wasn't tremendous, but we NEVER say boo to losses.

Back on the Wagon Again

The passage of time since I last blogged from the scale is shameful, and somehow indicative of my committment to the whole WW program. I'm crawling back on the wagon, clinging for dear life - and panting because I'm back on the treadmill for the first time in months. Phew!

I can't seem to progress past the first five pounds; it's like I'm plateauing really early on, and I'm yo-yoing constantly. I thought maybe adding some physical activity might help. So three times on the treadmill this week is the plan. Also, since I'm taking the train into the city more this week, I have 15 minutes of walking twice most days. Maybe we'll actually see some results?!

My Zero Point Soup Recipe

Monday morning, full of optimism....
Here I am, posting after getting my Zero Point Soup on the stove. I've been tinkering with the seasonings and vegetable additions, and I think I've got a much better variation on the soup:

Lightly coat a soup pot with Pam spray, preheat over low heat
Chop:
1 medium onion
2 Cloves Garlic
I medium carrot
1 celery stalk
Gather:
worcestershire,
bay leaves,
basil,
oregano,
parsley,
salt, &
pepper
Open:
1 box low fat/low salt chicken broth
1 pkg frozen cut green beans
1 sm. can tomato past
1 10.5 oz. can no salt added diced tomatoes
1 10.5 oz can zucchini in tomato sauce
When you're ready to go, turn the heat to high, add carrot, celery, onion, and garlic to pot. Cook, stirring constantly, to sweat the vegetables - do not brown them!
When the onions are soft and translucent, add bay leaf, about 1/2 t of each dry herb, and 1/2 t pepper to the pot. Stir for a few seconds to warm the seasonings. Add a splash of Worcestershire, scrape any browning off the bottom of the pot, then add the box of broth. Next add the tomato paste, stirring to combine, and the diced tomatoes, with their liquid. Bring this to a light boil, then reduce heat to medium low, and add frozen green beans. Simmer for about 20 minutes, uncover, stirring occasionally. After 20 minutes, turn heat off, add zucchini, and cover.

Makes 5 servings, 0 points/serving

Tada!
OK, so the weekend wasn't great, but I was aware, and I journaled, and I'm going to do better this week!

The Tipping Point of Muffin Tops

Two days to meeting. Funny how some days you're gnoshy, some days not. I've been knitting and watching Shakespeare In Love, and not eating - hooray!

Yesterday was not a total loss, and I'm still looking forward to the trip to the scale on Saturday morning.

Today should continue to be easy, especially since I'll be out of the house for the better part of the snacking hour.

My jeans are starting to be just the lightest bit less tight, and they actually look worse, an injustice I'd forgotten from my last weight loss adventure. There's a tipping point between too tight and just right, and it's an awkward time when you're at it. They used to sit where they belong, and now they're riding just a hair low, and my belt is between loops - so basically you get serious muffin top action. Boo. Hiss.

Installed a ticker in my header. Scary to see those numbers up there for all the world to see, but some accountability is never a bad thing.

Grant me the presence of mind to stay away from the cookie bag today....

Sinister Ought to Be Latin for Oreo

Do you ever wonder if that angel on one shoulder, devil on the other stuff is real?

Yesterday, I'm self motivated up the wazoo, and then out of nowhere comes the 2:30 pm chocolate craving. I'm ostensibly ready for this, with lower calorie/fat/sugar chocolate options, and what do I do? Yep, hit the open bag of Oreos. I'd had three when the remorse kicked in, and that guilt pushed me to have 2 more. Sheesh. I wish there was a way to get my employers to stop bringing cookies home from the store, especially when they don't eat sweets and their kids don't really like them, either....

So, back to the drawing board today.