I need to re-evaluate my eating habits. For the past 5 week I have been super-good. I’ve written all the foods I eat down, I’ve (mostly) abstained from alcohol and I’ve tried to get some exercise in most days. Obviously, this isn’t working. In the past 5 weeks I’ve lost a total of (wait for it)….1 ounce. That’s 1/10th of a kilogram or 22% of 1 pound. At the rate of 1 kilogram every 10 weeks, it will take me exactly…. fricking forever to lose the weight I want to lose (which by the way only puts me at the upper end of a healthy weight!). Frustration just isn’t a strong enough word for how I’m feeling at the moment. There are basically 2 ways to lose weight in a healthy manner: diet and exercise. I tackled the exercise issue last week by making the insane decision to run another marathon. Now to deal with the diet issue. I actually think I’m doing pretty good on that side. Well, maybe not. I do tend to forgot to write down what I eat in my journal when I’m busy or stressed. So, I’ve made a promise to myself to have my journal at least caught up before I go to bed. I’ve also decided that I may need to measure my portions. Maybe I am eating more than I think? This doesn’t sound like much fun and will definitely hamper the ‘creativity’ of cooking but desperate times call for desperate measures. I started this morning by measuring out my muesli. Turns out I’m right on target for that measurement. Yeah! So, I will spend a week or so being totally anal retentive and measuring my food. If you see me pulling out a scale at a restaurant, please ignore me.
May 4th, 2010
I am in a war with the scale and the scale is winning. Today’s battle was won hands down by the scale. Although last week’s battle was a tie, it’s clear that the scale is winning the war. Obviously, my battle tactics are not working and need to be altered. I don’t have any extra soldiers to throw at the scale and breaking the scale is apparently not considered winning although there would definitely be some satisfaction in the actual act of throwing the thing out the window, down the hill and into the river. After reviewing historical battles with other scales, it’s clear that there is one tactic that wins. It’s not an easy tactic and Lord knows it will take lots of planning and sacrificing. I’m not sure I have the energy and strength to deploy again but as my 40th birthday looms closer and closer, I am out of options. Like any war, one battle can be decisive. Especially if the planning and preparation are impeccable. And so, I am forced to resort to desperate measures. In order to prove to myself that I am taking this desperate and final step, I’ve already signed up for the battle. The final battle will be fought in France near Bordeaux. It will be 42.2 kilometers long and hopefully not last more than 5 hours. Yes, you’ve guessed it. I’m going to run another marathon. The preparations have already begun. Take that scale!
April 26th, 2010
My first thought brought on by the warm weather is Shit, now I have to shave my legs. When I get over the idea of having to shave the ever-renewing hair on my legs, I am pumped by how motivated the warm weather makes me. Warm weather means long hikes with the dog through the forest. Made longer by my husband who still refuses to believe that not every trail in the world is a circle. Hint: there are a lot of forest trails in Germany that are NOT circles! Warmer weather also means I can take a hiatus from my treadmill. Don’t get me wrong: I love my treadmill. I mean looooooovvvveee my treadmill. It’s absolutely awesome being able to run no matter how cold and rainy it is outside but come on running outside kicks running on a treadmill’s ass. Cold weather makes me want to hide on my sofa underneath my fleece blanket drinking mulled wine and watching movies about somewhere else. This winter has been so long that I’ve actually depleted my stock of mulled wine (they stop selling it in the stores after carnival) and my butt is sore from all the hiding under my blanket on the sofa. But finally, a month after the official arrival of spring, warm weather has also arrived. Soon, the local outdoor pool will be filled with warm water and the terraces will be open. I have run out of excuses for keeping my butt on the sofa. What lame excuse are you still using?
April 20th, 2010
Denial is awesome. As long as you’re in it. When you start to reflect that you’re in denial, the fun is over. I’m really good at denial. Obviously, how else have I managed to get to my current weight without ‘realizing’ what’s going on? Surely, I should have realized that slowly but surely more and more of my clothes were not fitting. Maybe this is the problem when you have a large closet. You just shove all the clothes that don’t fit way in the back. Out of sight, out of mind. But as some point there are more clothes that don’t fit then clothes that do fit and the closet is an official disaster zone. Denial gets real tough at this point. I managed to hold onto it for a few more weeks but going clothes shopping has rocketed me straight from denial to depression. I’ve decided that in order to ensure that I don’t regress into denial again, I have to do something I dread: Get on the scale. Not only today but every week. It turns out I have to track my weight loss in order to actually lose weight. Bummer. So I unplugged the microphones from the Wii, plugged in the balance board, took a breathe and jumped.
April 18th, 2010
To shop or not to shop. That is the question of the day. I have a problem. Ok, it’s possible that I have more than one problem but let’s just stick to this one for today: my fat clothes don’t fit! I can no longer deny it. I have to face the overflowing truth. Not only have I gained back all the weight I’ve lost, I added some on to that. So now I wonder what’s better. Do I continue to rotate the three pairs of pants that fit? Becoming more and more grumpy with each rotation. Or do I go for some retail therapy? My fear is that having clothes that fit will remove some of the pressure I’m currently feeling to stick to the program. But I may go postal if I don’t have more than 3 pairs of pants to choose from soon. Not only is frustration not conducive to weight loss (and may actually cause me to go jumping head first into a bucket of mint chocolate ice cream), it’s important to look good no matter what your size. Looking good makes you feel good. Feeling good leads to confidence. Confidence that the weight loss and weight loss maintenance will be successful. (Apparently, I’m feeling yoda-ish this morning.) So, off I go to the city to do a bit of shopping. Of course the fact that the shopping street ends with an awesome sushi restaurant doesn’t hurt.
April 16th, 2010
I’ve kept a food journal for most of my weight loss attempts and for all of my weight loss success stories. My main purpose in keeping a journal is to control my eating. If I see it in writing, even if I’m the only person reading it, I feel guilty for eating too much. I bought a new paper journal for my latest weight loss attempt. This made me contemplative about my old weight loss journals. I dug them out and read through them. I couldn’t help but analyze under what circumstances I tend to lose weight (I am a lawyer after all). I made a not-too-surprising but nevertheless depressing discovery. Even if I keep my total daily calories within my daily calorie goal (1200 to 1350 kcal), I do not lose weight if any of those calories come from alcohol. Damn. This means I can’t forgo some snack earlier in the day and ‘treat’ myself with a nice glass of wine in the evening. So, in the name of science and in the interest of a smaller behind, I am giving up the hooch. It will be tough and not a little depressing, but it’s not forever. I hope. So au revoir red wine, hasta luego tequila and tot ziens beer. I will never forget you and I hope to see you all again soon.
April 12th, 2010
Grilled Shrimp anyone?
It turns out that French women are not thin due to some wundergene. The French just know how to eat. They do not gorge themselves on fatty, fried resemblance of food. No, only the best for them. Fresh ingredients and small portions. (This does sound vaguely familiar.) So, here is an example of an absolutely fabulous appetizer I tried this week: grilled gamba’s. And yes, it tasted as good as it looks. They have even figured out the age-old problem of how not to indulge in too much wine at lunch-time: the demi-bottle. It’s about 2 glasses. I may never leave.
April 8th, 2010
Every time I turn around another excuse peeks its head out at me from around the corner. They are never original or exciting or earth shattering. “Oops, I guess I can’t run with this compound bone fracture sticking out of my shin.” Oh no, they are BOR-ing: my head hurts, my back aches, I’m tired, I’m busy, I’m stressed. I’m a frickin’ broken record. So, I go on a ‘nature’ vacation and eliminate a few of my woes but still back ache and headache remain stubbornly attached to me … hanging on to my shin like some scared little child. I kick and I scream but they only hang on even tighter. I give up. I go on with my day with the nagging child hanging on to me but now complaining that I’m useless as I haven’t worked out. So, me, my headache, my nagging conscience and my dog go on a walk to solve my woes. Of course, I forgot I’m in France where a laissez-faire attitude also applies to marking trail signs. I get lost several times in the middle of the woods with only the lapping of the surf and the jets coming in on final into San Sebastian to remind me that I am not alone in this world. After many wrong turns and much swearing, my dog and I find our way back to our rental appointment. Luckily, the nagging conscience and headache have gotten lost. Good riddance!
April 6th, 2010
Baguette, French cheese & wine…oh my! A mini-break to France is probably not the smartest idea 2 weeks into a new life program. But man do I need to get away. We were planning a 3 week trip to Vietnam but then life got in the way. This time in the form of a bunch of wankers not knowing how to keep a company afloat (being unethical bastards is more like it but I’m getting off topic). Anyway, the question is how I’m going to maintain my healthy eating and fitness plan in the land of gourmand indulgence. Right now I’m planning on running to the beach and taking long walks with the dog on a daily basis. Normally our vacations are spent running from one cultural site to another for a few weeks and then collapsing exhausted on our beds when we get home. May not sound like much fun but hey you say to-MAH-to I say tomato. Money constraints are forcing us on an economical holiday but maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. We can get some well-deserved and much-needed rest. Maybe see the sun I’ve heard so many rumors about. And the dog doesn’t have to go to the doggy hotel. All just a 12-hour drive away. Stay tuned. There’s bound to be some floundering and much wine ‘tasting’.
April 3rd, 2010
Setting boundaries is really about saying no. When we’re children, we have NO problems with saying no. You might even say that children can be a bit irritating with their ability to say no to absolutely everything (that doesn’t involve ice cream). Teenagers are skillful in their ability to say no with a sulk. They can also say yes while sulking but that’s another matter. When we get older, we seem to lose the ability to say no. Don’t get me wrong: I can still say no to anything that could possibly be good for me. Apparently, however, I have lost the ability to say no to things that are bad for me (except chocolate and margaritas). This is especially true when it comes to work. I can’t seem to say no to an assignment even if it is 18.00, I’ve just worked 12 hours on 3 hours of sleep and it’s gotta be finished the next morning. Sound familiar? My bosses have even learned to exploit this ability (or is it lack of ability?) by introducing a ‘speed tariff’. I’ve tried to say no but somehow my clients manage to make me feel guilty about it. Of course, I’m also always worried about losing work and then not meeting my billable hour target, which is basically like admitting I’m a failure. Somehow being afraid to be a failure at work has led me to be a failure in all kinds of other areas in my life. I’ll spare you the details and just stick to my weight loss and fitness failures. Trust me there are too many other failures to count. What I’m trying to say is this: I’ve got to learn how to say no and set boundaries. Otherwise, I’m going to continue to yo-yo and frankly I’m getting a bit sea sick. Or maybe I just need to learn to say yes to me?
April 1st, 2010
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