Lazybones.

I confess:

I’m lazy.

I’m quite comfortable as a lump on the couch. I’ve got yoga pants and a Yoda butt. I prefer escalators to stairs. I like parking close to the store. I’ll often holler from the other end of the house before getting up and walking over to talk to Mr. Stuck.

And I’d pretty much have to be in fear for my life to be caught running.

I’m sure my inertia was a huge factor in my weight gain, because I never had what you’d call an active lifestyle. I was never in sports in school, unless you count the year I was manager of the track team, where my physical exertion was limited to handing out equipment and collecting wet towels to be laundered. I wasn’t very coordinated. I was a bookish kid, not a sporty one – my brain got all the exercise. My only bad grade in school – a “C” – was in PE.

Making the change to a more active life has been slow, but I know it is worthwhile. I use the stairs at work almost exclusively now, and it has made a difference. I’m parking farther away from where I want to go, just so I can add a few steps to my day. I’m making myself move more, and I try not to sit for too long at a stretch, but it isn’t easy for a couch potato. A body at rest stays at rest, and all that.

Newton must have known a Lazybones like me.

I’ve always joked that exercise is a dirty word, but to be honest, I wish I’d used that kind of language more often. I wish I’d listened to Mom and gone outside to play more as a kid. I wish I’d tried out for softball. I wish I’d cultivated a different type of routine than I did – one where I was actually doing stuff. I would have been stronger and more physically fit than I was back then and am now. Trying to start being active is tough if you’ve never really done it before.

I’m a weakling. I have no stamina. I haven’t found an activity that I like well enough to do regularly or commit to. It’s a struggle every time between what I want to do, what I know I should do, and what I can do. I’m inspired by folks who run and swim and work out and sweat and ride bicycles and have strong, healthy bodies to show for it. I admire their determination and their drive, but I can never seem to translate that into my own life.

If I were rich, I’d have a personal trainer and maybe a chef, and I’d probably look great, thanks to them. They wouldn’t be mean like the Biggest Loser trainers, but they’d be firm, giving me goals as well as limits and making me stick to them. They’d discourage my whining and encourage my positive inner voice. They’d show me that anyone can make a change, even when change is hard. They’d have me watch inspiring movies like “Rudy” or “Rocky” or “Unbroken” to show me that my ability isn’t what matters, my heart is. A strong spirit can overcome, even when the flesh is weak.

They’d coach me to my personal best.

But I’m not rich, and I can’t afford a chef or a trainer. I only have myself in the mirror. I have to learn to be my own coach, cheerleader and motivator. I need to take charge of my own health and follow through with what I start. I need to remember the encouraging words that I’ve given to others and say them to myself – over and over and over.

You can do it.
Look how far you’ve come!
Just keep moving.
Don’t give up!

Baby steps – they’re all I’ve got, but if I take them, I’ll get there, and I’ll be way ahead of the old me sitting on the couch.

It’s never too late! 

Let’s forgive the past and change the present so we can shape the future.

 

photo credit JamieC2009

A Pep Talk.


Are you still making excuses for yourself? Are you still downplaying and sabotaging your success? Did you forget how badly you wanted (needed) this weight loss? Are you finding it hard to make the changes you have to make?

Me, too. Time for a pep talk.

Back when Mr. Stuck started his journey toward surgery, I said, ‘You go first.’ It had not been very long since I’d had two major surgeries, total hip replacements, and I was in no hurry to go under the knife again. I wanted to see how it went for him before I decided yes or no. He was my guinea pig.

But that wasn’t the only reason. Even though I was unhealthy and unhappy, I was also unconvinced. Sure, I thought, maybe the Mister’s only option was to have that drastic surgery where they rearrange your insides, but it wasn’t mine. I didn’t really need something that extreme. Since he had to make huge changes in his diet, and I was the one feeding him, I’d have to make some changes myself, right? Then I could avoid having surgery, because it would be up to me to revamp our whole way of eating and I would lose weight as an added benefit. Win-win!

I saw how laughable that line of reasoning was as he got closer and closer to surgery. I made salads and chicken and substituted fruit for desserts. I tsk-tsked at him when he dared express a craving for chocolate or wanted a beer. I nannied and nattered and nagged. I told myself (and him) that it was for his own good – I was just trying to help.

I am ashamed to admit that I watched him like a hawk, but I was still living and eating the same way I always had. What a surprise – I didn’t lose like I thought I would – no, like I was certain I would. As I saw him losing, but not me, I realized that I wasn’t able to do it alone. That’s when I decided to seek WLS for myself. I wasn’t going to lose weight as a side effect of Mr.Stuck’s efforts — I had to do my own work.

And I did. And when I had my surgery, I promised myself, like everyone else does, that I would not be one of those folks who regain after surgery. I was DONE being obese. I was DONE with the unhealthy habits, the sedentary lifestyle, the unrestrained snacking, the bad choices. I was putting my life on the line; surgery was no off-the-cuff decision. This time, it had to stick, and I had to be the one to make it happen.

So here I am, ten months post-op, with the majority of my extra weight gone, and I have experienced tremendous benefits from this change. But in the last couple of months my weight loss has slowed down, even plateaued, for a number of reasons: I’m not exercising like I should; I’ve allowed myself too much leeway in my diet; I’ve stopped measuring portions and returned to the ‘eyeball’ method; I haven’t been drinking enough water; and the number one reason – I’ve fooled myself into thinking that all of these things are okay.

The sad truth is that Mr. Stuck and I are enablers for each other: I love cooking the foods that he loves to eat, and he loves to bring home treats. We have to be on our guard all the time, lest we ‘enable ourselves’ right back to where we started. No way, we say — there’s no way I’ll ever be obese again! 

But I can see how it happens. You get comfortable, you get lazy, you get overconfident. Right after surgery, you’re elated at the pounds in freefall — every time you step on the scale or go clothes shopping, the number is smaller. It’s intoxicating! You look better, you feel better, and you begin to feel invincible. Where before you felt restricted, later on you’re embracing the new mantra of WLS: I can eat whatever I want, just in smaller portions.

You tell yourself it’s okay to hover over the hors d’oeuvres tray at the party because they’re small, and your tummy is small, so no big deal. You go ahead and have that beer. Don’t even get me started on lattes or Halloween candy. It’s all part of the big story you’re telling yourself, because all that you’re doing is making excuses and setting yourself up. Sadly, I know this from experience.

So it’s time to fall back and regroup. For me, this means remembering what it felt like to be obese and miserable: my feet hurt every single day. I was always tired. My back ached. I didn’t sleep very well. My skin was awful. My clothes didn’t fit very well, and I resisted buying new ones because I hated trying them on and I hated how they looked and I hated the size I wore. It means remembering how I never wanted to be in front of the camera and how futile it felt to me to dress up, wear makeup, or get my hair done — I’d still be the same fat, dowdy chick as before. And it means remembering the desperation — the tearful pleas and deals I made with myself, the promises, the threats — all of that.  It means remembering the struggle of trying to diet, denying myself in an effort to see a quick loss, which never worked for very long and made me grumpy, besides.

It means remembering how I blamed myself for my failure and saw myself as worthless, lazy, helpless, and stuck, refusing to look beyond the fat – and then being resentful when other people followed my lead and did the same.

I remember all of that. I never, ever want to forget. It seemed like it took a lot of time and determination to finish all of my prerequisites for surgery, and then – finally – it happened. Now, that part – the easy part – is behind me, and the rest of my life lies before me. It’s up to me which direction I go.

I didn’t come all this way to make a u-turn. None of us did.
Relapse is not an option.

 

photo credit Lauren Lionheart

It’s All In Your Head.

Time for a bit of an update.  Two and a half months since surgery, and I’m doing pretty well.  Still working out the details, like chewing more thoroughly and slowing down my meals.  I’m still doing my 15 minutes of stretching exercises at work each morning, with few exceptions (we’ve been doing it in an area undergoing renovation, and now the carpet, cubicles and cabinets are in and we’re losing our spot).  I feel better, I look better, and I move better.  Baby steps, but I’m committed.

Went to my friend’s birthday party this weekend and enjoyed mingling with the family; this is a great, big, loving clan, and being in their midst reminds me of home; I feel like burrowing in that familial warmth.  Big families are awesome; when the house is full, every nook and cranny has a smile and a hug.  I miss my family like that.

Chatted with my friend Amy, who has been very successful in losing weight with a diet routine and exercise.  She looks great, and she’s rightfully proud of her success in maintaining that loss over several months.  We talked about the mental aspect of making changes and making them last.  I was glad to hear that she related strongly to a couple of my more recent posts regarding my transition from obesity to health.  The things she mentioned caused me some reflection.

Self sabotage – I am guilty, guilty, guilty.  I am trying to change my mindset that says if I fall off the wagon, I’m a loser who failed again and I should just give it up.  Do you tell yourself the same things?  As a battle-scarred veteran of too many diets for too many years, do you find yourself falling into a preordained pattern?  You find a new diet or program because your friend is doing it or your sister is doing it or a celebrity is doing it, or maybe you saw it on Pinterest or Facebook.  You buy the book, watch the video, go to the website and read the testimonials.  You get all excited and shop for what you need, tossing out the half-eaten Cheese Nips and leftover pizza from the fridge.

You do pretty well for awhile, high on enthusiasm, but then the old habits and thought patterns come creeping back.  You find yourself thinking all day about what you want to eat that night.  You are distracted by cravings for food you know you should not eat, and when you give in, too easily, you immediately shame yourself:

Stupid.  Lazy.  Fat.  Disgusting.  Hopeless.  Loser.  Failure.  Quitter.

You tell yourself to give up.  It’s just like all the other times.  It’s no use.  It’s too hard.  You always do this.  Why even bother?  You will always be fat and dumpy.

Why do we do this to ourselves?  Why let one misstep end the journey?  I have had to learn how to forgive myself for these small mistakes and keep going.  Do you remember the old Family Circus comics?  The ones where one of the kids will take a meandering path from point A to point B?  I love that cartoon.

That is a good visual of how my brain works and how I do things, but it is especially relevant to my progress on a diet.  Sometimes sideways is my only progress, and sometimes it’s one step forward and two steps back.  But it’s important not to stop.  Don’t give up.

More things I’ve learned:

  • It’s okay to leave food on your plate.  I am no longer a member of the Clean Plate Club.  (my family had a song that went with it — not sure if other folks did, too. ;-))
  • It’s okay to not take that food home from the restaurant, especially if you’re not going to eat it or give it to your dog.  Why waste the room in the fridge to throw it away in a week and a half?
  • If I say I shouldn’t eat something, I should actually NOT eat it, instead of just saying it as I put it in my mouth.
  • It’s okay to remove the strings from the celery, because it makes it easier to eat.
  • It’s okay to not drink coffee anymore, even if it is kinda weird for me.
  • It’s okay to be picky!!  (I have never been picky, but I am learning how to be.)
  • Mr. Stuck and I should always share our entree, not order separately.  That is a waste of money and food.  Duh.
  • It’s okay to eat the protein first; in fact, it’s a good idea.  I load my salad up with chicken or tuna or ham and add cottage cheese; I use much less lettuce and much less dressing, but I still add broccoli, cukes, and tomatoes.  I’m even trying things like garbanzo beans.  Yum!
  • I’m still working on cooking small amounts, but I can always share extra portions with my neighbors.  Recently made a huge pot of Tuscan potato/sausage/kale soup, and gave most of it away.  It was a win-win: I satisfied my craving, and none went to waste!
  • I can allow myself treats, because if I deny myself, I want it more.  We all know that reverse psychology ploy.  I can allow myself a bite of something and then I don’t have to binge on it in secret or in the car on the way home.
  • Habits can be insidious — they can be so deeply subconscious that you don’t realize what you’re doing until you’ve done it.  I got myself so hooked on McDonald’s sweet tea (cut with unsweetened) in the summertime that it was automatic for me to stop there on my way home. And sometimes, it was too easy to order a cheeseburger or chicken sandwich to go with it, especially if I thought I was hungry.
    After I started my nutritionist appointments, I stopped doing that.  But I noticed that when I’d hit that leg of the highway, I would be thinking about the tea and the cheeseburger.  I’d find my brain negotiating with itself on whether I should stop or continue past.  I have to deliberately focus on something else, to redirect my thoughts into something productive.  I would feel victorious if I didn’t stop.
  • It’s okay to go up a little or stay the same on the scale once in awhile.  We’ll have those days.  Maybe stop weighing yourself so much and look at how you feel and how your clothing fits.  Use a different gauge for your success.  The term Non-Scale Victory (NSV) is meant for just that.  Getting to where my wedding set fit my finger again was an NSV.  Fitting into the jeans I was sure I wouldn’t — that’s also an NSV.
  • It’s okay to struggle.  I’m human, and so are you.  We make mistakes, we screw up, we give up, and we sabotage ourselves.  We have to really work at staying the course, but that’s okay.  It’s okay to stumble, but make sure you get back up.

I haven’t smiled this much in a long time.  So many people have taken the time to tell me how happy they are for me and Mr. Stuck, how much better we look and must feel, and how we are radiant these days.  Who wouldn’t smile upon hearing that?  I am so grateful for the love and support that is coming in from all of my family and friends.  It means so much and encourages me to stay strong.

Thank you.

image credit lovelornpoets, Bil Keane