zero2sixtyin9

Last week was a sour mixture of shock and disappointment.

Duane and I both lost 2 pounds.  Yeah, 2.  I know, I know… most people would be thrilled with that, but after working hard all week and sticking to the diet and after losing 7 the week before, it just sucked.  It was a hard emotional week, which I feel may have had something to do with it.  I made the really tough decision to leave my job.  An easy, comfortable job where the small group that I worked with are so close, we are like family.  In fact, they are the only family I have here, 700 miles away from my actual family.  But, I guess sometimes we all have to make adult decisions in life and move on.  So it’s back to the hospital for me.  Hey, maybe all the running around will help with the weight loss??
(Don’t let the optimism fool you…I’m still extremely sad to have left them).

So fast forward to this week’s weigh in.  I knew that since today was my birthday and that I would be splurging, that I wanted to weigh in before all the festivities began (nothing too outrageous, but hey!  A girl should be able to eat, at least not if for her birthday!)  So yesterday morning was the moment of truth.  And yet again, another freakin 2 pounds.  Dammit.  That scale and I are not on the best terms at this point.

So kids, that leaves us at a total of 11 pounds in the last 3 weeks.  A little disappointed, but it is what it is.  I try to tell myself that most people gain weight over the holidays, and here I am losing some.  Ehh.  I just hope I can reach my goal, which was to have lost a total of 15 by the 1st of the year (4 more pounds to go!)  What would absolutely thrill me would be to lose 5, that way I could start the year out at a certain number and go from there.  As Duane puts it, if I reach that goal, I am 25% to my overall goal.  Wow.  And to think of how huge my overall goal is… that re-ignites my drive and willpower all over again!

So anyway, I know this post isn’t quite as exciting as the last, but I’m tired and sore as heck from yesterday’s workout.  I will keep you posted on what’s to come.  Happy holidays, Happy Festivus, and Happy 27th to me!  : )

So my husband came home about 2 weeks ago and loudly declared, “I can’t do this anymore!”  “Do what anymore?”  I asked.  Us?  Life?  What in the hell was he, the normally laid-back, calm one being so dramatic about?  “I can’t be fat anymore.  I can’t be out of shape and out of breath.  I just can’t do it.  I’m starting Weight Watchers again and you can do it if you want.”  Hmmm…  He had taken the very words from my mouth.  I had contemplated it time and time again, yet never could let go of pop, chocolate, and the ability to eat whatever I wanted freely.  “OK”, I agreed.  He was right.  Something definitely needed to give.

He started a few days later, on a Saturday.  I gave a great argument for waiting until Sunday since that Saturday evening was my company Christmas party.  I did NOT want to be counting the points of hor dourves or half-filled glasses of cheap champagne.  As each day passed, I shoveled in chocolate, butter, and whatever else I thought I would be deprived of, all the time rationalizing that it would be the last time that I could ever really have whatever it was that I was eating.  And pop.  Oh, my sweet, dear caffeine addiction…  I knew for sure that that would be the hardest thing of all to give up.  Sigh.  Remind me again why I decided to do this?

 Sunday was there before I knew it and began with optimism and great anticipation.  I tried to remind myself how I never even worked out the last time we did Weight Watchers and how I lost 30 pounds in a month.  Yeah, in a month.  I stared longingly into my closet, admiring the clothes that I would hopefully soon be fitting into again.  I dug out my old WW books and carefully made a list of groceries.  And as I was doing so, it suddenly came back to me.  The very reason I had come to hate WW and dieting and ultimately snapped in the grocery store, thus leading us on a bad journey of weight gain over the last few years:  bread.  I remember eating the worst, most disgusting low-fat doesn’t have a bit of taste to it bread, all so I could save points and be skinny.  Which led to me hating bread and hating life (dramatic, I know, but that’s me).  And then I cried over not having enough points for chocolate chip cookies and it was over before I knew it. 

I quickly let my husband know that if we were actually going to do this again, then it had to be real.  Sure I would bitch and whine and moan and switch to diet pop, but I had to have decent bread for pete’s sake.  I had to have cookies if I needed them.  And all you girls know what I mean when I say there are some times when you just need them.  And butter, I love crusty bread and butter…and the list goes on…  So we came to the agreement that this time needs to be not a diet, but rather a lifestyle change for good, all while incorporating things that are real and that we like.  Like macaroni and cheese for dinner and ice cream for dessert.  We shook on it and headed off to the grocery store.

The first few days were the worst.  I went to work and was immediately greeted with a chocolate bar.  I said, “thanks but no thanks.  Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”  After a confused look I explained my big adventure of a diet, realizing that when I said it out loud, it didn’t sound as cool or brave as what I have made myself believe it was.  The next day I felt even better about it and was offered another chocolate treat (work is evil!), to which I replied, “Sorry, but I can’t.  Today is the second day of the rest of my life.”  Lame, I know, but it had become my mantra.  And it helped.  I refused to drink diet pop, thinking I should try to give up pop all together.  BIG mistake.  I was grouchy, on edge, shaky, and basically felt like I was gonna die.  It was so bad that the girls at work were begging me to drink a pop.  So I finally gave in and found that diet pop is not so bad.  Hmmmm….maybe this is doable after all.

After a week of emotional ups and downs, feeling more tired than I have in a long time, and ultimately discovering that I really don’t miss all those extra calories and don’t long for foods like I thought I would, it came time for picture/weigh/measure day.  Yes, it is horrific as it sounds.  Duane and I decided that if we are going to do this, we want to keep track of our progress… so each Sunday we take two pictures each:  one frontal and one side view (very mortifying), take a bicep, chest, waist, hip, and thigh measurement, and to add to the torture, weigh ourselves.  In the end?  Not so bad…we both had lost 7 pounds and I had a new respect.  A new respect for myself for sticking to it, a new respect for my body for losing all that weight, and a new respect for my husband, for giving me the shove I need to begin living ‘the rest of my life’.