The face in the mirror

In the past few days, several people (read: more than 2) have mentioned to me that I seem angry or stressed or withdrawn and asked if I'm ok. While I have felt some of that on the inside, I wasn't aware that I was projecting that to the outside. I think that those feelings have just been around for so long, that it almost feels normal for me. It took those people holding up a mirror to help me see it.

The short answer is that I am ok. But I am also stressed and unsettled. I know a few things I can do to help.

1. Exercise. I hate that its true, but I do feel emotionally better after I've taken a walk or gone for a bike ride.
2. Pray. Truthfully, I've been letting this one slide. That whole "let go and let God" concept is a tough one for people like me who like to run the show.
3. Unplug. This one is scary for me because the internet is a great place for me to escape. I can get lost in Facebook and the blogosphere for hours on end. (Shocking, I know.) 

So, I'm going to take advantage of the holiday weekend and do all three. See you on the other side of the fireworks!

Food fight

I'm in a food fight and I'm tired of it.

It seems that lately my whole existence is revolving around food and weight loss, diet and exercise. It's frustrating and exhausting and embarrassing. The quality of my days (was this a good day or a bad day) seem to hinge on whether I caved to the donut or made it to the gym.

I've felt this way before, only it wasn't about food and weight. When I was struggling with postpartum depression after Charlie was born, I recall saying to the woman who ran our support group that I was tired of waking up in the morning and being greeted by the presence of the depression first thing, wondering if today would be a good day or a bad day. "I'm tired of being defined by this," I said to the group.

And that's how I'm feeling about food and exercise right now. Defined by it. Consumed by it. I know it's all of my own making. I ate my way back into 20+ pounds. I sat on the couch most of the winter, even though I could feel my butt expanding underneath me.

I know what to do to get out of it.  I know all the tips and tricks. The motivational sayings like "nothing tastes as good as being thin feels" and "if you bite it, write it." I could tell you to park further away from  your destination, to take the stairs, to do sit ups and crunches during the commercials on television, to split meals or box half of your entree as soon as the food is delivered in a restaurant. Oh trust me, if I had a curtain to hide behind, I could be the Wizard of Oz of weight loss.

So it has nothing to do with knowledge. It has everything to do with power. The power to say no to foods that aren't going to get me where I want to go. The power to say yes to exercise when I'd really rather stay home. The power to believe in myself that I can set a goal and achieve it.

But food has its own power too. I am an emotional eater. A donut or cookies or chips and salsa can bring an instant feeling of calm to my frenzied psyche when I'm wound up about something. And since Mike was laid off almost two weeks ago, food has been my drug of choice.

I haven't just rolled over and given up. I joined Weight Watchers (where I've watched my weight go up by 2 pounds over the past two weeks). I've made intermittent visits to the gym. I've walked on my lunch hour at work. I watch The Biggest Loser and Heavy for inspiration. I'm still working with FitCity Indianapolis and IN Shape Indiana -- and I believe everything I've said or done on behalf of those organizations and I've worked hard to be up front and honest about my own struggles. But I also have to believe that I am not alone, that many, many other people are waging their own food fights as well.

I wish I had some inspirational way to wrap up this post, some rah-rah-victory-is-mine sentiment. But I don't. All I have is a chance to make the right decisions today.

If you want to read some more straight-from-the-heart posts, visit Shell at Things I Can't Say to see today's Pour Your Heart Out participants.

Lessons from The Biggest Loser

Last season, I didn't watch The Biggest Loser. I just needed a break. But earlier this week, I watched a "where are they now" special and found myself drawn to the show again. So I sat down to watch the opening episode of the new season, "The Biggest Loser, Season 11."

I'm not sure if TBL posts will become a regular occurrence here again or how I'll write about them. I'm leaning more toward exploring one topic from the show than providing a re-cap of what happened on the latest episode.

There are 11 pairs on this season -- too many to keep track of right now. But two of the people come to the show having already lost a significant amount of weight, with a significant amount left to lose. Courtney, part of the mother-daughter on the aqua team has already lost more than 100 pounds at home, inspired by previous seasons of The Biggest Loser. Arthur once weighed 646 pounds and has lost 150 pounds at home. I calculated his then and now BMI, which come in at a staggering 98.2 and 77.1! (Anything over 30 is considered obese.)

There are twin brothers on the show, again. And another man from Tonga named Moses, following in the footsteps of Philippe, Sione, Sam and Koli. Maybe they should just start a Tongan BL series. I mean, honestly, the Tongans are fat people. I get it. Aren't there any fat Germans or Englishmen who need an intervention?

There was the falling down and throwing up of the first workout. There was Jillian screaming and Bob taking someone outside the gym to talk -- the equivalent of a psychiatrist's couch.

One of the funniest things I heard was Jillian saying "I don't want to yell. Do it because I asked you to, not because I yelled," and Bob responding, "Asking Jillian not to scream is like asking the grass not to grow, the fish not to swim, the lions not to roar. Jillian's always gonna yell at people."

Not that Bob's incapable of being in-your-face. At one point he said to Arthur, "Of course you want to lay down. You weigh over 500 pounds!" Funny, but harsh.

There's a new twist, as well. Two new, mystery trainers. I'm calling them "Ninja Guy" and "Boxing Gal." The teams had the opportunity to sign on with the new trainers and have four weeks of immunity or to work out with the successful, known quantities of Bob and Jillian.

I said I wasn't going to re-cap the episode, didn't I? That I was going to explore one topic from the show. So here goes.

Seven of the 11 pairs on this season are parent-child duos. At least one mom spoke of feeling guilty for her child's weight issues. That struck home for me.

I've been overweight for the better part of 30 years. I don't for one minute hold my parents responsible for my weight issues. They raised 5 kids and I'm the only one who struggles with weight. What weighs heavy on my mind, no pun intended, is how my habits and choices regarding food have impacted my own family. Even when I think I'm being sneaky with my own bad habits, they are more aware than I know. Whether it's a propensity to drink Diet Coke instead of water or the couch that's imprinted with the shape of my hind end, I don't always give my kids the best example.

Annie takes after me and has already found that food is both her friend and her enemy. The boys are pretty lean right now, but I worry what will happen when they grow up and they find themselves with less built-in activity and more sedentary time on their hands.

Some people watch The Biggest Loser out of sheer voyeurism, wanting to gawk at people whose skin is  painfully stretch across their stomachs and whose weights reach unbelievable numbers. Others watch hoping to see Jillian rant and rave. Some tune in for inspiration in their own weight loss and to cheer on those working to regain their lives.

Watching the show the other night and seeing all those parents and children was like holding a mirror up to my own future. I recently wrote at Fit City about moving two steps forward and one step back. This first episode of The Biggest Loser Season 11 was an inspiration to me to keep my eyes fixed ahead and move forward, for myself and my family.

14

Fourteen.

10 + 4.

7x2.

Annie's age on her next birthday -- which is about 14 weeks away.

The number of Legos I stepped on in my bare feet trying to cross from the bed to the bathroom in the dark.

One more than the number of children my grandmother had.

Five less than the number of children the Duggars have (so far).

10 crayons shy of a box.

Baker's dozen, plus a bonus.

The size of the pants I wore to work today.

They didn't fit as nicely as they did five months ago, when I was about 5 pounds away from them being too big. Today, I am about 5 pounds away from them being too small. I've been wearing bigger, baggier clothes for fear that the size 14s would be too small and I just was not ready to face that sad fact. But this pair did in fact fit.

I'm glad I tried them on -- it's motivation to eat less, move more, regain all that I worked so hard for.Who knows, maybe I'll even lose 14 pounds?

10 things that go up

1. Airplanes
2. Hot air balloons
3. The price of gas
4. A zipper
5. Umbrellas in the rain
6. Eyebrows
7. The hair on the back of your neck
8. Your hand when you know the answer
9. An aroused fellow
10. My weight

Ugh! I knew this post was a possibility. Heck, I might have even known it was a probability. But now, it's a reality -- one that I need to face and then to change. I have gained about 12 pounds since the beginning of summer.

It started with an interruption in my gym routine. It gained momentum with the "it's too hot to cook, let's go out to dinner/order in" phenomenon. But what has really done me in is the rash, often secretive, emotional eating that I've given into with increasing frequency.

I can feel the weight gain in the way my clothes feel. My newer, smaller clothes are snug. My old, fat clothes don't swim on me the way they did in May. It shows in my face (and likely my butt, except thankfully, I don't have to look at that.) I don't have as much energy. But I do have a renewed resolve for getting back on track.

In just 8 days, a camera crew (well, probably one dude with a video camera) will be at my house to interview me for a 4-part web series that IN Shape Indiana is working on. If there's one motivation to pass up the fries and hit the treadmill, it's that someone will be holding a camera in your face, asking about how you work to develop healthy habits for you and your family. And I'll be honest -- which is what they've told me they want. It's a struggle. It takes planning and dedication and an ability to see the possibilities on the other side of the mint chocolate chip ice cream.

So there. I've spilled my secret (which probably wasn't a secret to anyone who has seen me recently). And now I'm going to do something about it. With some hard work, and a little bit of luck, soon enough I'll be blogging about 10 things that go down.

On fat, fitness and food

I was deleting pictures from my phone last night and I came across this picture:

Do you remember it? It's the fat dress.

Then I had Annie take a picture of me today:

I have to say that while I have a lot more work ahead of me (about 50 pounds worth), I'm pretty pleased with my progress so far.

Exercise is not only something I enjoy, but it's something that I'm finding sneaking it's way into my life even when I don't have my workout clothes on. At lunch on Tuesday, I went for a walk to enjoy the sunshine and ended up walking two miles!

And tomorrow, I'm going for a 2 mile run (ok, probably a 1/2 mile run and a 1-1/2 mile walk) with Jared the Subway guy. Well, me, Liz and a whole bunch of other people who will turn out for the Subway Fun Run. (Do you think I'll look nerdy if I run with a fanny pack? Where else am I going to stash my camera so I can grab a photo op with him?)

Liz and I are participating on behalf of the Fit City Moms Blog. We may even get a chance to ask Jared a few questions. I've got some rolling in my head, but will be happy to take any of yours with me, too.

Despite my weight loss and my new-found appreciation for exercise, don't think for a minute that I don't still struggle with food. I find it almost impossible to pass up sweets. My boss had the nerve, I mean was nice enough, to bring M&Ms to the office the other day. They were sitting there, open in a basket, all beckoning and beautiful in their Eastery colors. Of course the best way to deal with them, I decided, was to just get rid of them...by eating them fast! I didn't eat the whole basket (I didn't want to seem piggish), but I ate more than enough. Today, the M&Ms were gone, replaced by chocolate bunnies, Hershey's Special Dark bars and cookies! Ack!

If you need more proof that food still holds a certain allure for me, check out my last three posts on The Indiana Insider travel blog -- they're all about food! Onion rings, cupcakes and ice cream!

I think it's a battle I'll be waging until the day I die. I suppose as long as I lean heavily on the fitness and be smart about the food, then the fat will stay in check.

The fat dress

Yesterday I wore my fat dress to work. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about, right?

Almost every woman has a fat dress - an easy to wear, loose-fitting dress that doesn't hug you anwhere. We gals wear our fat dresses on days we are feeling, well, fat. Fat dresses are comfortable and let us forget about the circumference of our bodies because there are no waistbands digging in at our bellies, no fabric trying to lay flat over the contours of our behinds. Fat dresses are all about comfort.

Except, yesterday my fat dress didn't do that for me. I was walking down the hall at work when I felt a strange sensation.

"What's that?!" I thought, panicked? I took a few more steps. "Aaaack! That is my butt!"

Sadly, the denim of my fat dress was tugging on my hind end with each step I took. Waaaah! I'm too fat for my fat dress!

My thoughts immediately went to the wedding reception scene from "Steel Magnolias" where someone commented that a woman on the dance floor looked like she had two pigs wrestling under her dress (her belly and her rear).

I guess I have two choices -- and buying a new fat dress is not one of them.

First -- and easiest -- I can change the name of this blog to the GAS (Gluttony and Sloth) Chronicles. Or maybe better the SAG (Sloth and Gluttony) Chronicles, since I've got plenty of SAG going on.

Or, and probably preferable from a health standpoint, I can get off my duff and do something about it. Where is Jillian Michaels when I need her? Maybe they should take a "What Not to Wear" approach to "The Biggest Loser" and just show up to save the sorry soul (me) from themselves. Or maybe A&E's "Intervention" would do a baked goods intervention for me.

(The fact that I've named one movie and three television shows in this entry probably has a direct correlation to the problem at hand.)

Maybe I could adopt a personal trainer? I can offer room and board to someone who is willing to be my own personal chef and drill sargeant.

I am an intelligent woman. I know what I need to do. So why can't I do it? The answer to that would be worth more to me than 10 fat dresses.