Confidence OR How I Chose to Ignore the Tag and Love My Shape

30 01 2009

A while ago, in a publication I can’t recall, there was an article that kind of hit home. It was about a woman who wasn’t happy with her weight/image and decided that she would “reward” herself for reaching milestones. It then occurred to her when she hit a wall, that she would probably not ever reach her “ultimate” goal. This resulted in her accepting who she was and being happy.  I always felt a bit envious of her.

Now, does this mean that I have given up on my non-resolution? Nay.
It does however mean that I realized that I am (much to my poutingness) not a size 4, am not svelte, am not ripped, etc.  and that PERHAPS, I should embrace my um, transition, phase AND STOP LYING TO MYSELF.

Intending to just go to Barnes and Noble to deplete a gift card, I found myself at Macy’s with an exchange card that Steve would never use (his words, not mine) with $20 on it.
Scouring the racks, I found a top that is patterned (gasp!), bright (gasp!) and as the gasping alludes, Very UnStephanieLike.
Figuring that I should also look for pants/jeans as the top only took up 1/4 of my card (who’s a power shopper?  I am…) I picked a pair of jeans off the rack in the “realistic” size and not the “denial” size.
In the dressing room, a ray of light came down (probably from the halogens in the ceiling, but whatever) and as I turned to face myself, I did a double take.
Is, is, is that, me?  me in clothes that fit?  Clothes that make me look like an adult? No tugging?  No lumping? An outfit to be proud of?
And at that point, I let the size tag blur.
Gliding to the counter, my retail $88 ensemble came in at at modest $28, with $8 actually coming out of my pocket.
Sure, I care about my size (as much as I try not to) but I also know that I am taking active steps to become a size where I will not have to pretend that the tag doesn’t say what it says it says. And today, I am more confident that I’ve been in a loooonnngg time.





Adventures in Medi-cye

24 07 2008

Last night was another follow up appointment to make sure that my anti-depressant/anti-anxious isn’t making me more depressed/anxious.
*** Note that the ACTUAL doctor has a WONDERFUL sense of humor.  The PA is the one I saw previously.***

We’re discussing my dosage and how it’s effecting me, life and everything.
DR: So, how’s it going with the Zoloft?
me: Okay.  My OB/GYN suggested bumping up the dose.  I didn’t want to do anything without checking with you though.
DR: I think that’s a good idea.  What do you think?
me: You know more about this stuff then I do, I’ll think whatever you tell me to think.  I have no aversion to bumping up the dosage.  If we do that, will it even me out even around my period?  I ask because for two weeks out of the month, I feel like I could rip the spine out a  man.
DR, putting the mobile cart between me and him while he backs up to the wall: And what side of the two weeks are we on now?
me: You’re okay.
DR: Whew!  Okay, well, the max dose on this is 200.  If 150 doesn’t change much, we can bump you to 200, if that doesn’t help like we need it to, we’ll look to changing meds.
me: k

We also discussed the nightmares, which ends up may be a result of my recent love for diet soda.  So I have to suck up the extra calories (or stick with water) to avoid waking up screaming.  Can do.

And, after much hampering by Steve and mom, I get my ankle checked out again.  (backstory: 13 years ago, I took a nasty spill down some wet stairs and hyper-extended my Achilles tendon.  It’s never recovered.)
While I could take a cortizone shot IN THE ANKLE (and of course Steve’s all ‘YEAH!!!!’), there is a good chance that the tendon would rupture.  Neither DR or I am ready to make this trade off, so I have to strech the tendon, take motrin when it flares up and make friends with the ice pack.

Oh, and super bonus, the scale in the office is four pounds in my favor.
The nurse was like, “You’re happy with x?”, becuase a) I don’t look like I weigh x b) x is not a favorable number for my height.
“Heck yes I’m happy.  I was four pounds heavier at the gym last night.”





Keeping on Track: The Goal

23 07 2008

This Saturday marks the 3-weeks-to-go mark of The Plan.

Yesterday, I purchased some motivational material from Newport News.  What?  They were having a sale and I scoured for free shipping and 20% off coupons.
Hopefully, well, the idea is, I will get said items in the mail and they will motivate me to keep me on track.
I saw something and I’m like “Wow, I want to rock that.”  Add to Basket.

Yesterday was a successful day at the gym; I can tell because I’m achy today.  I reluctantly hopped on the scale and was pleased to find out that my water-weight-gain had fallen off and I was actually in better shape then I was before Aunt Flo.

What is my goal, you ask… well, as Melissa put it, I am in no way a lard-ass, but I have self-esteem issues due to my body.  Wait, that makes me female doesn’t it…  By the middle of August, I would like to see me in photos and not want to cry on the inside.  Oh, sure, I mean, I feel so much better then I did before, but I’m my own worst critic.
I’ll stop bitching now.

(p.s. he added a re-furbed nano to his order yesterday.  Cake and eating it too!)





Yes, I Got that Message too, Universe

16 07 2008

After the migraine passed (read: nap), I headed out to get some things.
Back at the truck, I notice it’s eight and I’m arguing with myself about going to the gym.
The “go to the gym” voice won.
I’m going through the weights and I’m on the weird-elliptical-incline-thing, trying to figure out how I can avoid doing the whole thirty minute cardio-fest.
I look up at one of the five televisions and there is a commercial on that is very very very closely related to The Goal I’m working towards.

Yes, Universe, I got the message.





Who is this Person and What is she Doing in My Body?

14 07 2008

In my travels yesterday, I was in Target and you know, with it being all of Mid-July, summer apparel is on clearence.

Deciding that it being Mid-July and all, perhaps I should brave the fluorescent lighting and try on a swimsuit.  Not that I need/want one, but it was on sale and there’s nothing lost if I didn’t try it on.
I find the appropriate sized pieces (it was a tankini, thankyouverymuch) and get into the closet dressing room.

I have four rules when it comes to trying on clothing.
1) If I cannot get it up over my thighs or butt, I do not wiggle, jump or lunge about.  It goes back on the hanger.
2) If it is a brand I don’t know, I will grab three sizes.  The size I normally take, one above and one below; sometimes two above if it’s really cute.
3) I do not look in the mirror while I am dressing.
4) If there is a second thought about purchasing the item, I do not buy it because I know I will not wear it.  I have to like it off the bat.

That being said, I am turned around while I put on the suit.  I turn towards the mirror and I’m not keen on the color and the top is a bit funny in the cut.  I pull up the bottom of the top to see how the bottom piece fits and while I would not go out in public wearing it, I didn’t want to curl up in the corner and cry.
I turned around, looked at my derriere and thought that if the color wasn’t off…
So back on the hanger it went.
As I was clipping it on the hanger with a S-M-L tag, the tag fell out of the back of the bottom.    It was MUCH smaller then the size on the hanger.
I did a double take.
Seriously,  did I just put on and take off a size that I would laugh at on the rack? Holy crap.

And I did a little dance around the booth, bumping my elbows against the walls.

About four weeks to go…





Could This be the Cornerstone Covered in Moss?

18 04 2008

I’m sure it’s a bit preemptive, but I almost feel like I turned a corner in this whole on-going battle with my self-image.

Yesterday was one of the first “real” spring days.  I triumphantly removed the insulation from the leaky windows, opened all the windows, Bs and I played many games of chase-the-ball-around-the-yard and I did not go for ice cream on lunch.
I also did not purchase ice cream from the ice cream truck (which is totally a lie, it’s just crap on a stick).
I also did not go out at 8:30pm to Dairy Queen or Charlap’s for ice cream.
I did however eat a bag of 94% fat-free popcorn and washed it down with three comically large glasses of water.
I only had one beer; as opposed to my customary first patio beer indulgence.

I’m thinking that the stupid, evil, archaic Arc Trainer had something to do with it.  I pushed myself.  And I feel better.  Like I didn’t think that I would be able to clear that hurdle.  But I did.
Gym bag packed, I’m ready to try something else today.
It’s supposed to be a deeeelightful weekend and I think that I will try to spend tomorrow picking up the yard before the rain comes on Sunday and I get back into spring cleaning mode.

The weather has broke and so have my doldrums.





Cosmic Sign of Motivation

27 02 2008

A couple of posts ago I mentioned a goal and a reward.
Well, as the cosmos has done with doughnuts and other signs, another green light came yesterday.
I got some news regarding The Reward and well, ends up that the timing is perfect.
Now my only major issues are logistical and financial, which are pretty inconsequential at this point.

It’s like, it’s not just for me anymore and now I feel kind of bad about eating those chips with ranch dressing.





Positive Self-Talk

21 02 2008

‘s a fact. (or so I’m told)
Positive self-talk can help change your ideals and better help you reach your goal.
This morning I’m evaluating my ensemble in the mirror and I turn around to check out my butt.  Self-centered, maybe, but (ha!) I’d say most people see me from behind (ha!).
So here’s the dialog, which may have been in my head or to Kali. Whatever.

“Holy crap, your ass looks huge.”
“Hey now.  It’s certainly not as huge as it used to be.  These are your skinny jeans.”
“You’re right!”
“Remember when you were layering your shirts to cover the muffin-top?  Yeah, not so much.”
“So true!  This shirt is long and has a wide band.   You looked fierce in these same jeans and a different shirt.  Hurry up so we can get some Hortons coffee.”
“Hell to the yeah.”

And like that, I went from telling myself that I was a disgrace and failure to telling myself that I rock.





You Win This Time…

20 02 2008

(wordpress was being a cranky pants yesterday so I wasn’t able to post this…)

Bacon was calling me.
Loudly.
Like a tantrum.
So I cave in and go to Tim Hortons for lunch.
While in line, I’m contemplating what to order, besides a turkey club wrap.
It’s my turn to order.
The words come out of my mouth before I realize what is happening.  “TurkeyClubWrapComoboOnWheat.”  (for the record, a combo comes with the sandwich, coffee, soup, roll and doughnut) (dude, Boston creme, hello!)
“Will that be all?”
I think to myself, sarcastically, “Yeah, a ba-dunk-a-dunk-butt and a bagel.  Awesome.” but respond “No, that’ll do it.”
WorkerBee gives me my total and I pay, thinking that it’s a good price for the glutton I’m about to partake in.  I look forward to my coffee and doughnut, wondering why he hasn’t asked how I want my coffee and what kind of doughnut I want.
It then dawns on me that he did not hear the “combo” part of the order and I just paid $4.35 for a sandwhich…. which took 5 minutes to make.
Oh, cruel fate, you win this time… telling me that I don’t really want a sweet doughnut, covered in thick delicious chocolate and thick sweet custard on the inside… the kind that kind of oozes out over your fingers because it’s so full it comes out of the other side when you bite into it and the custard from your fingers tastes almost as good as the custard in the doughnut and then you realize that you’re moaning and your co-worker is looking at you like you’re re-inacting the scene from “When Harry met Sally.”

And in other, yet somehow related news, this article on Fark.com, warns that one SHOULD NOT ingest parasitic worms in order to lose weight. *puts down truck-stop-vending-machine-egg-salad-sandwich*

And in other, yet somehow related news, I have decided to set a goal for myself (which, par for the course will stick for about 2 weeks).  And if I meet this goal (both in time and in idea) I am going to reward myself.  I know what the reward is.  I’m not telling though.  I need to motivation to actually do it.

Raise your water liters!  A toast.  To willpower!





Voicing my Frustration OR Looking for Advice

13 02 2008

Why can’t I stick with this weight loss thing?
I physically feel better when I exercise and eat well, which in turn, makes me feel better emotionally.
And when I falter, I feel awful.  With my frame (which could be categorized as “small” as I am 5’2″on a good day) a gain as little as two to three pounds makes a difference.
Granted, I’m not all boo-hoo and woe-is-me.  I AM seventeen pounds lighter then I was last year.
HOWEVER, why has it taken me almost a year to lose not even twenty pounds?  Yes, I know that there is a science behind it (it is harder for people with less to lose, to lose).
Yes, I know that I have not been following The Plan like I should.  It’s like, it’s too easy to not eat on Plan.  Which I guess is what got me here in the first place.
I do cook and I do cook on Plan, making sure there’s enough to freeze/fridge for future lunches and dinners.  But it’s like, when it’s the weekend, I am full of excuses as to why I can’t cook or eat what I should.
Even though I have a full range of foods to eat, I can’t eat the same thing all the time.  I really don’t care too much for meat (be it beef, chicken or pork) and Steve doesn’t care for vegetables (his four food groups could be: Chicken wings, hot sauce, Chef Boyaredee and pop).
It’s like food is a bonding experience for me.  When we have “date night”, I feel like the food fosters conversation and nurtures our relationship.  Being able to share a meal with someone is important to me.
I know that exercising is another key factor.  And I have as many excuses for that and I don’t know why.  I actually enjoy working out (most of the time).  I like the way it makes me feel and look.  Perhaps that’s a bit self-centered.  So why don’t I work out more?  I guess because it’s easier to say “I’m tired” and let it go then do a half-assed workout.
But my frustration levels are high.
I’m trying to stick with this… I really am, but the lack of progress is derailing.
I know I should bother, because there have been so many improvements in my life since I started this journey.  I know I should stick with it because I CAN do it.
Just seems like when I have my weigh-in, I tell myself ,”This week I HAVE to make changes if I want to reach my goal.”  And I’ll stick with it for a few days and the voice in the back of my head says , “You know what sounds good?  Doritios.  And a pop.  Yeahhhhhh.”  And I’ll tell that voice to SHUT UP and be satisfied with some tasty tasty peaches. The next hour,  it’s back.  “You know what sounds good?  Cheese.  You should go to the fridge and eat some cheese right now.”  So I get up and have a glass of water.  A little while later, I’m pulling the wrapper back on a piece of cheese.   “Dude, you NEED Chex Mix.”  And the cycle continues.
Half of me says, “You crave (insert food here) for some reason and rather then eating around it, just eat a little of it.”  and the other half says, “You just want (insert food here) because you shouldn’t.”
It’s like, why bother paying for the support, et al, if I’m not going to follow the plan and take advantage of the tools?  It’s not like Steve is stuffing chips in my mouth.  He’s also (generally) not complaining about what I make for dinner.  I’m the one who has to do this and I’m the one who needs to make the changes.
I guess I’m just not really seeing the motivation that I did in the beginning, but I’m sure I will when I step on the scale tomorrow.
I need to break the cycle.

Help?

P.S.
I would like to say that I haven’t tried to change all my bad habits at once (another pitfall).  I can’t even stick to journaling for a week.  I do get in the water requirement though.