Uh-oh. I've reached the 2 workout per week zone. That's not entirely true, but I only attempted jogging TWICE last week. I did, however, add weight training back into the routine AND did a 10.5 mile walk/hike between Ballard and Magnolia on Saturday (that took me up a cliff at Discovery Park). My calves are still a little tender from that one, though I made it through the entire hike rather remarkably.
I purchased some size 12 jeans at American Eagle Outfitters on Friday, and am waiting for them to be shipped (I had to have them shipped due to my short stature.) This makes these jeans the smallest size I've purchased as an adult. My weight is still hovering above the 160 mark, but I stand at over 100 pounds lost, and have decreased from a plus sized 24-26 to a misses 12. This still puts me at about a 14-16 when it comes to modern fashion sizing, but still, it's a pretty far leap.
I was just reading the latest Marie Claire magazine about a woman who did a relay with her husband across New Zealand (heck if I can actually find the web version). She started at a size 12 and ended up a size 4 - and I don't want to say that my hope in fitness is a smaller size, but there's a novelty in it considering I've been large my whole life.
I have yet to go to a Team in Training practice - and it's becoming something that I avoid because I keep avoiding it. I'm worried about overtraining, and wonder if crazy athletics is what I want to go towards.
One thing's for sure, though. Hiking up that cliff at Disco Park was one of the most fun things I've done in a long time.
Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fat. Show all posts
Monday, May 10, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Different Skin
I used to weigh 100+ pounds more than I do today. I look in the mirror, and on the scale, and know that I have more to lose. This is despite getting statements occasionally where some people I know believe that I've completed my weight loss journey. In truth, I have about 25-30 pounds to go, and I've been staying pretty level, without any big poundage losses, for over a year.
I won't tell that same trite sob story about how "food is my drug" and how it was my crutch, etc, etc. Maybe it was, once upon a time. Meanwhile, I've always loved to move my body, even when I was at my heaviest. I'd get funny looks when I was 250+ pounds, and would tell people I'd regularly go to the gym. In fact, I was doing 60 minutes of cardio, and sometimes another 60 minutes of weights three times a week. I've always walked at least a mile a day, just without thinking. The food part? Food is tasty when it's good, prepared food is almost always underwhelming and under-satisfying, and when I'm not satisfied, I want to be satisfied, so I eat more, as if my belly stretching tells me I'm satisfied. (It actually just tells me I'm stuffed.)
To say the least, I'm living in a different skin. I looked in the mirror one day, over two years ago, and said that I was done wearing that skin. I've used Weight Watchers the entire time on my journey, and though the meetings may be scary to some, I definitely lose more weight when I'm going to meetings than when I'm doing it with their eTools.
Long story short - what I'm getting at is that I'm having to come to grips that I'm a different person. I'm not the fat girl any more. I can shop almost anywhere for clothing (aside from haute couture). I'm active, and I run. I don't get funny looks when I shop for athletic clothing. I get pleasant and even fun small talk from other fitness enthusiasts, who look at me as a peer. I still eat the things that are delicious, but I've managed to cut out a lot of the things that frankly, I don't need, and aren't that delicious (or functional.)
No, I need chocolate. I still have chocolate.
But I don't eat an entire pint of ice cream, except on a very rare basis. Hamburgers and french fries, also, a rare occurrence. Pasta is regular, but the portions are smaller (Most restaurant portions are probably 2-4 cups of cooked pasta, a portion is 1 cup.) Meat? Well, there are many reasons to eat less meat. I try to cut my portions to no more than 3-4 ounces of meat for dinner (and seldom, meat for lunch). Consider it's nearly impossible to find a burger, chicken breast, or steak at a restaurant that is less than 4 ounces these days.
I do enjoy what I eat, and since I count the calories of alcohol as well, this past year of grief and stress has me turning to pleasure as an escape - and this is why I go over my Weight Watchers points (and break even on the scale.) Alcohol, I've found, is seldom worth drinking more than the slightest edge of tipsy. (That's one drink for me.) Chocolate? Ice cream? Cupcake? Ah. Once a week (or more, depending on the moon), I find myself indulging. It's easy to do the rationalizing. Especially when it's just a few Points over the line for the week. (Oops!)
If all goes well, I'll be visiting Chicago at the end of the summer, at my goal weight, visiting friends who have never really known me for any period of time other than the large, loud girl.
I'm learning who I am, in this context. It's a bit of a, how you say, mindfuck?
I won't tell that same trite sob story about how "food is my drug" and how it was my crutch, etc, etc. Maybe it was, once upon a time. Meanwhile, I've always loved to move my body, even when I was at my heaviest. I'd get funny looks when I was 250+ pounds, and would tell people I'd regularly go to the gym. In fact, I was doing 60 minutes of cardio, and sometimes another 60 minutes of weights three times a week. I've always walked at least a mile a day, just without thinking. The food part? Food is tasty when it's good, prepared food is almost always underwhelming and under-satisfying, and when I'm not satisfied, I want to be satisfied, so I eat more, as if my belly stretching tells me I'm satisfied. (It actually just tells me I'm stuffed.)
To say the least, I'm living in a different skin. I looked in the mirror one day, over two years ago, and said that I was done wearing that skin. I've used Weight Watchers the entire time on my journey, and though the meetings may be scary to some, I definitely lose more weight when I'm going to meetings than when I'm doing it with their eTools.
Long story short - what I'm getting at is that I'm having to come to grips that I'm a different person. I'm not the fat girl any more. I can shop almost anywhere for clothing (aside from haute couture). I'm active, and I run. I don't get funny looks when I shop for athletic clothing. I get pleasant and even fun small talk from other fitness enthusiasts, who look at me as a peer. I still eat the things that are delicious, but I've managed to cut out a lot of the things that frankly, I don't need, and aren't that delicious (or functional.)
No, I need chocolate. I still have chocolate.
But I don't eat an entire pint of ice cream, except on a very rare basis. Hamburgers and french fries, also, a rare occurrence. Pasta is regular, but the portions are smaller (Most restaurant portions are probably 2-4 cups of cooked pasta, a portion is 1 cup.) Meat? Well, there are many reasons to eat less meat. I try to cut my portions to no more than 3-4 ounces of meat for dinner (and seldom, meat for lunch). Consider it's nearly impossible to find a burger, chicken breast, or steak at a restaurant that is less than 4 ounces these days.
I do enjoy what I eat, and since I count the calories of alcohol as well, this past year of grief and stress has me turning to pleasure as an escape - and this is why I go over my Weight Watchers points (and break even on the scale.) Alcohol, I've found, is seldom worth drinking more than the slightest edge of tipsy. (That's one drink for me.) Chocolate? Ice cream? Cupcake? Ah. Once a week (or more, depending on the moon), I find myself indulging. It's easy to do the rationalizing. Especially when it's just a few Points over the line for the week. (Oops!)
If all goes well, I'll be visiting Chicago at the end of the summer, at my goal weight, visiting friends who have never really known me for any period of time other than the large, loud girl.
I'm learning who I am, in this context. It's a bit of a, how you say, mindfuck?
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