I just might..

have that damn wagon in my sights.

I have managed to log every single last bite of food that's gone into my mouth for five days straight. It's amazing how fast my calorie consumption drops when I force myself to be aware of it. It is definitely a lot easier to say, "NO!" to a 9 p.m. milkshake run to Sonic when I know that I've already eaten 200 more calories that day than I'd planned.

Granted, there've been a couple days where I've eaten such a gluttonous lunch that, come dinner-time, I was in a pickle. The thing is, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have even realized where I stood and would have gone on to eat an enormous dinner too. By keeping track, I'm able to force myself to stop and think and make a decision that perhaps it's better to have a big glass of water and a cup of veggie soup or something for dinner instead of half a pizza.

I'm also finally swimming again. There are few better appetite suppresants than seeing my thighs, in all their brilliantly white cottage cheesy glory poking out the bottom of my TIGHT size 16 bathing suit.

I'm down 2.6 pounds so far for the week...with a day and a half to go. If I can keep on this path and maybe catch that wagon, I just might start giving my ass a run for the money again.

An old friend...

of mine recently told me, "the wagon I fell off turned the corner and I can't even see it anymore!"

It was such a perfect description of how I've been feeling the past couple years that it stuck in my head.

Yesterday evening, I was out in my backyard picking wild blackberries. (Yes. We DO live in the far outreaches of suburbia.) I noticed I was standing in the middle of an enormous fire ant bed. (Yes. This is as bad as it sounds.) When I noticed that I was about to get bitten by about a zillion of God's most evil little creatures, I hauled my fat ass out of there at light speed! I moved because my life (not literally, but it felt that way) depended on it.

Thing is, my life DOES depend on me moving my fat ass.

This is just a quick update to let everyone know that I'm on my way to catch that damn wagon.

If you see me running after it, feel free to give my fat ass a push!

I just found out...

that I am not fat enough to be the next "Biggest Loser." Unfortunately, I AM fat enough to qualify for weight loss surgery. I don't even have to have a co-occuring medical problem such as diabetes or high blood pressure (thankfully, I don't - YET!)...I'm just plain old fat enough. I am seriously considering this option.

I've been trying to get my weight under control for nearly two decades now. I have bits of success here and there. I've gotten down to a healthy weight many times but never manage to stay there.

Just when I put out a fire...whether it be my own illness or injury...or dealing with something going on with someone I love, another starts. Just a week ago, I sincerely thought life was smoothing out. My husband and I were actually thinking a much needed vacation could be on the horizon. Then, BOOM!!!...I was hit in the face by the heat of another blaze.

I wrote a post a couple years ago about "re-starting" when I'd fallen off the healthy eating/exercising bandwagon and a couple of my friends took issue with it. I still don't know why. Isn't that what we do in life? Fall down...get up again...fall down...get up again? Keep repeating that process until we find our balance?

I've yet to find mine. I'm still looking.

I met someone recently whom I could identify with on a lot of levels. We're dealing with a lot of similar problems and feeling a similar level of grief about certain things in our lives. The similarities end there, though. While I "handle" my issues with food, she handles hers with running...not just any old sort of running...but competing in marathons and triatholons and such.

I admire her. She's learned how to channel all the hard times and hard feelings into something positive. I admire her and I envy her as well.

I realize that a lot of you sort of expect my blog posts to be humorous. I'm sorry if I've been dissapointing you lately. I'm just not feeling particularly amusing. Life's been hard for a while and I've been dealing with it poorly...only doing what I have to do...ignoring, for the most part, the things I want to do...shoving stress back down my throat along with bbq ribs and ice cream.

I want to break the cycle.

I HAVE to break the cycle.

I NEED help to break the cycle.

I wish I knew where to find it.

I walked...

a 5k today to show my support for the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI.)

I know a lot of people that would have ran. It took all the juice I had to walk. Houston isn't a particularly hilly place. We're only a hundred feet or so above sea level. Growing up, the biggest hill any kid could find to use as a ramp for their skateboard was someone's driveway. I swear, during this walk, I was transported to another state. The nice flat road I saw at the beginning of the walk morphed into a black diamond run somewhere in Rockies.

My knees hurt. My back hurts. My feet really, really, really hurt. The little spot on my forehead between the top of my Team Normal Schmormal visor and my hairline got sunburnt and THAT hurts too.

But...

I finished it.

I didn't run. I didn't even walk quickly.

But...

I didn't quit.

And that's saying something.

One step at a time...

I like...

a lot of things that aren't good for me. I like pizza. I like chocolate. I like cake and pie and donuts and pastries and cupcakes and cookies. I like potato chips and french fries. I like chicken fried steak. I like fresh baked bread with tons of butter. I like burgers. I like bacon. This list could go on forever.

Thankfully, I also like a lot of things that ARE good for me...love them even. I like a beautiful salad. I like fresh fruit. I like lean grilled meats. I love sashimi. I like how I feel when I eat things that are healthy for me. I like how I feel when my Fitbit gives me a badge for hitting a goal. I like how I feel when I finish a workout that I almost didn't start in the first place.

I do NOT like how I feel when I ignore my body's need for healthy fuel. I do NOT like how I feel when I ignore my body's need to MOVE MY ASS. Ignoring these needs makes me feel sick. I have plenty of health problems already. I've had thyroid cancer. I have fibromyalgia. I have discs in my back with a mind of their own. The little f**kers are constantly slipping in and out. I've refused surgery so I have to live with the fact that a slight twist in the wrong direction at the right time will put me on the ground. Being overweight has caused damage to my knees and ankles and feet. It often hurts to walk so much that I can barely manage to get out of bed in the morning.

There are a lot of days when I use all my health problems as an excuse to endulge in things that I "like." See how the cycle self-perpetuates?

I feel like crap so I ignore my body's needs and feed it crap...which makes me feel even crappier...and so on.

Lately, though, I've been trying to remind myself how good I feel when I take care of myself and how crappy I feel when I don't. I've been asking my friends and family to remind me too. It's helping me make better choices. It's helping me make little changes.

Enough little changes will eventually add up to something big.

Enough little changes will eventually SUBTRACT something big off my ass! ;)

Is February 2nd...

too early to be thinking about heating up the pool?!

I am logging my food. I am eating smaller portions of healthier things. I am dragging my ass up and down the stairs at least ten times a day because my FITBIT won't give me my stairs badge if I don't. I've been walking at least 10,000 steps a day. I've been doing pilates and yoga and lifting weights. I'm losing pounds slowly but steadily.

I am BORED.

I hate climbing stairs. I hate walking when I don't have an actual place to go. I don't mind pilates and yoga and weight lifting and I LOVE losing pounds...BUT, I AM BORED.

I love to swim laps and the damn pool has been too cold since late October to swim. I am beginning to get a little whiny about it. I am officially asking my dear husband not to give me flowers or jewelry or art or, God forbid, candy for Valentine's Day. All I want is a warm swimming pool!! Pretty please with sugar kisses on top!!!

Swimming is MY thing. It's the form of exercise I actually enjoy...even love. It's therapy for me...both physical and emotional. I miss it even though it's only been a few months.

Have you found YOUR thing? If you haven't, I highly recommend trying NEW things until you do. You'll KNOW when you find it.

Oh, by the way, Happy Superbowl Sunday if that's your thing. I almost forgot because it's most definitely not mine. ;)

I have lost...

4.4 POUNDS since December 30th. I think that's a pretty darn good REstart.

I owe a debt of gratitude to my younger son (who has a body fat percentage of maybe 5% but came home from his first semester at college feeling "chubby.") I'm so proud that he's aware of and concerned about his own health and knows what it takes to be HEALTHY. He's been a great influence on our family's eating habits...even taking it upon himself to grill massive quantities of chicken breasts.

I also owe a debt of gratitude to whomever invented my FITBIT. (Yes. I like it more than the BodyBugg. I don't care that it might not be quite as accurate.) This little marvel of technology and the instant feedback that it offers has me doing things I NEVER would have considered doing a week or so ago....like walking laps around the kitchen island at 11 p.m. just to make sure I get all my steps for the day. The only thing that could make it a more perfect device would be if it were waterproof. I'm going to be bummed when the weather turns warm again and I can get back in my pool to not have it counting laps for me too!

Like I promised myself and all of you, I've been logging my food - religiously - BEFORE I put it in my mouth. It's making a big difference. I'm managing to maintain about a 1000 calorie per day deficit which mathematically means I should be losing about 2 pounds per week....which means that this time next year I'll be lighter than I've been since before my oldest son was born (two decades ago!)

I don't have anything particularly profound to say. I'm just working on being consistent. I'm working on moving my ass more. I'm working on finding myself again. I'm working on reminding myself that this isn't an overnight process. I'm working on learning better ways to handle my stress without drowning in a bowl of ice cream. I'm working on me.