Weight Loss Credit Reports

So after a few days of making up for the Funnel Effect, I think that things are back on track.

180.2

A MARKED improvement.

I feel like I am getting back in the groove of things. I'm eating right, considering exercise again, and am back to creating art of all kinds. Per your helpful suggestions, I am doing a needlepoint project to distract me from the late night munchies. And I intend to use this trick over the weekend and see if it helps me stay on the dieting bandwagon.

My friend Kathy has been writing me on and off via Facebook, and she brought up some frustrations she is experiencing about dieting. I think there are some major points we need to talk about here. And of course, I am happy to tackle this topic head-on, in keeping with my promise to obsess and overanalyze.

Every woman has a different body. Some of us (like me) carry lots of weight on our middle and tummy sections. Some carry weight in their legs and thighs. Some carry it... well... all over! While I find that the basic principles of Weight Watchers do the trick for me, there is something to be said for investigating your options.

If all our bodies were the same, if we all liked the same foods, if we all had similar metabolisms- then dieting would be a piece of no fat cake! If I liked fish, I would eat tuna every day. But I don't like it, so I have to find other options. If you had a kicking metabolism, then you could eat pasta every day and it wouldn't settle on your rear. If the skinny girl at the baseball game had MY fat burning capabilities, she wouldn't be eating that candy bar and Pepsi like it's no big deal.

Our bodies are very much like our credit reports. Everyone has something different on theirs. Your debts are not the same as mine. You may have something outstanding physically that needs to be taken care of before you can improve things. Things like diabetes, allergic reations to gluten, thyroid issues- I'm sure you understand what I am saying here.

If I go into a bank right now and ask for a loan, they aren't going to give me one today. There are previous problems that must be paid off or removed before they are ready to hand me a cashier's check. But here's the thing.

I have a copy of my credit report. I know what I am looking at, and am working on fixing those things that are wrong. It's going to take us till August to dig ourselves out of the hole, but come fall, banks will be fighting over us to give us what we need most. A new house.

This Friday, I am going to get my dieting Credit Report. I am going to have bloodwork, a physical, and even my personal favorite- A PAP SMEAR. (Oh the bloggy goldmine of hilarity that should bring!!!) They are going to investigate where my body is doing well, and where it is lacking. I will learn more about how I work, and take steps to fix the things that are wrong. It's not a pleasant journey, by any means. But it is a necessary one.

I really like the idea of working out a dieting credit report. That might be something I work on in the future. Everyone is at a different place in their weight loss- beginning, middle, uh... end? Regardless, it might do us all some good to look at the major gains and losses over the years, and consider what led to those events. For me, I know that a lifetime of fad dieting and over indulgance has wrecked my metabolism, so I have to work harder than some. But I'm up for the challenge!

Are there any suggestions out there of things we should add to a dieting credit report? Does this make sense at all?

THE FUNNEL EFFECT

It started off as an afternoon trip to see my husband and daughter perform.

Arts in the Park, an annual festival at the park down the street, was happening, and right after Tim's baseball game, he and Natalie and I headed to the park. And about a block away, I could smell them.

FUNNEL CAKES.

I have an issue with funnel cakes. You may recall that I drove to Burger King to try out their Funnel cake sticks, and found them greatly lacking compared to the fair-related concoction. Ever since then, I promised myself that I would one day remember their greasy goodness.

So after dropping an insane amount of cash on one elephant ear, a large lemon shakeup, and one funnel cake for mama, we found a bench.

Now, I will say something for my blog readers. THEY ARE LOYAL. In fact, a few of them were sitting between the funnel cake vendor and the bench. And they saw me carrying an elephant ear that was bigger than my head and that darn funnel cake.

And Debbie P., who has been on an incredible weight loss journey of her own- and is down 60 pounds (probably more by now- she looks it!)- piped up. God bless her for that. She said-

"Now I read your blog, and we are supposed to be holding you accountable, and you don't need that funnel cake and elephant ear. You asked us to help, so don't do it."

I assured her that it was supposed to be for the kids, and went on my way. I told Tim, "you guys are supposed to share these with each other. But leave me a few bites of the funnel cake. I just want to taste it."

And I walked away, knowing that my kids wouldn't move with such yummy food on their laps, and talked to some people for 10 minutes, watching the back of their sweet little heads on the bench the whole time.

When I sat back down with them, the elephant ear was completely gone, and there was one teeny tiny bite of the funnel cake left on the paper plate. My kids had powdered sugar all over their faces, and looked rather guilty.

Irritated by the fact they had just inhaled the funnel cake, I asked them, "Did you chew it, or just swallow it whole?"

We then proceeded to watch the performance (Matt and Amy did very very well- I was extremely proud of both of them) and they came down to the bench when they were done. Matt said "Can Amy and I get something to eat?"

"Sure! But if you get a funnel cake, will you give me some? I didn't get any from the one I got before. Well, I got a bite."

"Of course you can have some!" said Matt, as he took the cash I had and headed for the food vendor of temptation.

And as I chatted with a few more people, I dreamed about the greasy goodness of the funnel cake. I imagined Matt and I, standing over the paper plate, looking at each other with absolute love in our eyes, sharing the funnel cake like Lady and the Tramp with the spaghetti. Only I can make food sound like a Harlequin Romance Novel. I am a sick sick woman.

We started walking home, and our daughter Natalie asked to carry the funnel cake as we walked. This was bad for two reasons. A- she is kinda clumsy, and that funnel cake was going to hit the sidewalk. B- I knew she would help Daddy EAT THE FUNNEL CAKE.

So I took Matt's drink from him and told him to eat while we walked. About halfway home, I asked him if I could have some of it. And he tore off one last piece, leaving me a third of it. So I took the plate and my eyes took in the beauty of the funnel cake. And my husband sweetly said:

"Um, I tore off the piece for you. I wasn't gonna give you that much."

In Matt's defense, he has had to listen to me whine about being fat for years now. And he was trying to help me.

But in all honesty, I can say that all it did was really piss me off. Not that he was helping me- but that I wasn't going to get any more of the funnel cake I had been fantasizing about.

Here's the thing about me. I feel justified when it comes to food. I feel like if I have done a good job dieting (which I had this week) then I deserve a treat.

And I have come to the conclusion that this is the mental downfall of dieters everywhere. We think that one bad choice makes up for all the good ones we sacrificingly made. And this could not be farther from the truth. Every choice matters. Every stronghold we have with food has to be broken.

I wish I could tell you that I came to my senses by the end of the night. But I didn't. I was so mad about missing out on the funnel cake that I ordered a Domino's breadbowl and ate every bit of it. And now, today, I am paying the price for it. Cause I weigh 183.8 and that is not where I wanted to be on Monday morning. Because I was upset that my family was so selfish (which is an absolute joke. I am the queen of selfish) I retalliated to teach them a lesson. But all I did was hurt myself.

As I push forward with this losing weight business, I am finding so much about how I associate food with making me feel better. This is not a thyroid condition, or lazy metabolism. This is Charlie making herself less (and pick your word here...) angry, sad, discontent- whatever I am feeling, I try to make it better with food.

Obviously, if I knew the solution to this problem, I would tell you. But I can say that years ago I went to a counselor for eating disorders, and didn't find the answer there either. I thought it was brutally unfair that she was skinny, and thought she had no idea where I was coming from.

But WE- us who gather on this silly blog- we know exactly where everyone is coming from. We understand how hard it is to pass on something so simple as a funnel cake, or Domino's. We know all to well that our emotional state directly effects our eating habits. I think the best thing we can do for each other is allow ourselves to recognize that this is our modus operandi. And fight it together. If we talk openly about our dieting shortcomings together, we can fight it head on.

I will tell you I have no problem dieting Monday through Friday. It's the weekends that I struggle with the most. So I need to get a game plan together for the weekend. I have 5 days to formulate a solution. I am willing to take any suggestions you all have.

HELP!!!!!!

The Anniversary

A wonderful anniversary date night with my husband has thrown me into a merciless panic stricken state.

We were discussing all of the things that we did CORRECT over the last year of our marriage. Things we were happy about. Things we enjoyed doing together. Things that were exciting for us. We were naming off quite a few. And Matt, looking at me with love in his eyes, said “You lost a bunch of weight this year!”

And I thought about it. And I did some math.

And after eating a scrumptious dinner at Red Lobster, I came home and weighed myself.

I didn’t like looking at the truth.

I don’t like it at all.

Cause I posted about our anniversary dinner last year. And I (per the usual) talked about how much I weighed that day.

Well guess what? It’s been one whole year, and I’m 5 pounds lighter. How’s that for a shot of truth in the butt?

I didn’t realize that a full year had passed since I had really applied myself to the diet. I am going to share some fun facts with you, to remind myself why I need to get back to the beginning.

1. In the first 6 months of dieting, I lost 50 pounds. When I was really applying myself I was losing an average of 1.9 pounds per week.

2. When I was dieting in the beginning, I didn’t believe it would actually work. Not for the first 3 months. Even after I started losing weight, I didn’t actually think I would lose as much as I did.

3. I looked at every pound I lost in awe and wonder.

4. I got cocky about my weight loss. (It’s the truth. I am a horrible person)

5. My body got very in shape- I could walk 8 miles before my legs got jello-ey.

6. I looked forward to working out.


Here are the not so fun facts about where I am one year later.

1. I mentally think that I know everything there is to know about dieting.

2. I consider myself “at a good place” right now.

3. I currently dread any form of exercise and have avoided it like the plague.

4. I have rekindled my love with bacon. The real stuff, not the turkey kind.

5. I do not FIGHT for the weight loss like I used too.

6. There once was a day when I took food to restaurants, got salads, and ate my own diet foods at parties. Notsomuch anymore.

7. I have straight up gotten lazy about the weight, and 99% of the time give into any food craving I have.


YUCK. I don’t like the way that reads. Or feels. Or how I look. And feel.

Matt says that I am the queen of inspirational speeches. I can give a great speech about why I am not doing what I should be doing. And he’s right. I do that every time. I tell myself I have valid reasons why I am not finding success. Why I am not fighting for the diet anymore.

And it stops here.

No more Domino’s breadbowls. No more beef house rolls. No more skipping out on exercise. No more ice cream over fruit. No more Mary cake over salads. The bullcrap stops here. No more making fun of Jillian and making love to Ben and Jerry.

Honestly, when I realized it had been a full year and I have only lost an additional 5 pounds, I was HUMILIATED. To 11. Especially because of what I learned that first 6 months.

I CAN lose weight. I can apply myself to this diet and find success. I can inspire others while doing it. I can reach my goal.

To be frank, what scared me is this. I have never been thin. In my whole life. And people started telling me how skinny I looked. And it freaked me out. Because I don’t know how to respond to that. What if I don’t look right as a skinny person? What if my body looks weird? What if my boobs totally deflate (even more than they already have) and I lose the part of me that Matt finds irresistible? (He is attracted to more than my boobs, rest assured. But let’s face it. He’s a boob man.) What if they end up 3 feet long?

These are the things I struggle with in the pit of my stomach when I can’t sleep. This is what I obsess over that stops me dead in my tracks when it comes to dieting.

And I don’t want to give in to that fear. I really don’t. Not anymore. Because a year passing with only 5 pounds leaving me (and not achieving ANY of my goals, btw) is just plain stupid. I am smarter than believing the lies of my fear. I am stronger than my greatest weakness. And I have scriptures to back it up.

Today, I am back on the Weight Watchers Wagon. I am focused and ready to fight for the final round. Think of me as Rocky Balboa fighting the Russian dude and it’s the final round. I’m beat up and bloody, but my resolve stands firm.

We are going to hyper obsess, over analyze and talk about dieting until we are blue in the face. I am going to put my “Charlie weighs” ticker on the side of the blog again, and for better or for worse, I am putting my daily weight on there. Because I need the accountability.

I am calling in every favor I have got, and feel free to flood my email with questions about how I am doing, if I am sticking to the diet, and avoiding French fries and bacon. The more the merrier. Because I won’t lie about it. And if I know you are going to ask, then I will get cracking on it.

So there you have it. That’s how our anniversary went down. With me struggling to come to terms with where I really am, and being yanked out of my fantasy world.

And it’s exactly what I needed.

The Diva Sized Disaster

Normally, I can pee anywhere. Outside, inside, toilet, coffee can, big gulp cup… really doesn’t matter to me.

But when you factor in a few variables, you can find out exactly what your limits are: Where you draw the lines and boundaries of your bladder. In order to set up the story properly, I need to share the variables with you, so you can understand how this story came to pass.

Variable #1: NOEL. (Pronounced “NO WELL”)
My Gma Bush’s farm is currently without running water. They are digging a new well this week, and there is no place to wash your hands or flush. There are, however, a plethora of secluded areas a girl can cut loose.

Variable #2: Rummage Sale in 97 degree weather
This means that lots and lots of people are hovering around and looking in places they shouldn’t (cause people are nosey- they just are) and all your secluded areas become null and void. And with the heat, your clothes become sweaty and wet and clingy. You can’t whip your pants up fast if someone comes nosing around the corner and catches you with your pants down.

Variable #3: Mother Nature
Normally, on the second day of Aunt Flow’s visit, I do not leave the house unless there is a national disaster (such as running out of milk- a disaster of epic proportions in this house) because– and there is no pleasant way to say this so I am just going to spit it out- I throw more clots and clods of mess than a golfer with a bad case of anti-depth perception. Disgusting, but true. What happens on days like this if I use a tampon is the clot attaches itself to the top of the tampon, and everything else falls out instead of being absorbed. Lovely, isn’t it? So I have discovered by using a Diva Cup I can catch everything. But it has to be emptied out about every 2 hours to do its job on days like this. And you have to wash your hands to change it, and need water to clean it. Normally, when you are not dealing with NOEL, it's no big deal. However, removing access to water changes everything...

Variable #4: Treatment of the “Yeastie Boys”
I learned a long time ago that if you “apply” a treatment for a yeast infection just before wearing a tampon, the tampon becomes null and void- along with the medicine you just insterted with the plunger/turkey baster. Then you have to start the whole treatment process over again. And I don’t do those 1 day egg shaped treatments. I have never had success with them. I get the drawn out 7 day ones, that lick the problem completely.

Variable #5: TWO hours of sleep
This left your old pal Charlie here exhausted and not running on all 4 cylinders. As you will soon find out…


So Matt and I got to the farm about 7:20am, in preparation for the big rummage sale on Saturday morning. I was excited and exhausted, but ready to do whatever needed done. Anything to help out my Mom, Margaret the Saint. She has been bogged down with details and things ever since Gma passed away. She’s stressed, so Matt and I want to do as much as we can to help. This includes crawling out of bed at 6:45 on a Saturday morning. The things we do for love…

In preparation for the day, I thought ahead and washed 5 pairs of underwear. My reasoning behind this was simple: if your underwear is soaked with sweat, you can’t apply a backup pad. So if I took extra unders with me, I could simply put on a fresh pair, stick on a fresh pad, and go about my day. (Sometimes my brilliance astounds me…)

Armed with my 5 pairs of skivvies and an insane amount of coffee, we drove to the farm. And people were already shopping. They had been since 6:30am. (The garage sale started at 8am. WHO DOES THAT?) (No offense, Bonnie- I heard you were there before Matt and I arrived. Thanks for shopping! Hee hee) So Margaret the Saint was stressing out a little more than I anticipated.

Matt and I kicked into overdrive and got busy, marking final items, moving stuff onto the driveway, etc.. Before I knew it, it was 8:30, and I needed to empty the Diva Cup and get a fresh pair of undies on with a dry Always. (it was dripping with sweat)

I went into the house, washed my hands with the water in a jug, and took care of business. I used baby wipes to wipe out the Diva, and got it back in place. I had to pour out it’s contents onto a stack of toilet paper I had in a little garbage can, then discretely tied it up in a Walmart bag. I then peed in a cup, walked outside with my cup and my bag, emptied the contents of the cup on the flower bed, and threw the pee cup and the bag in the dumpster. Not the best plan, so I figured I’d do it differently next time.

And true to my character, I sat for the next 2 hours, wheeling and dealing and formulating a plan. 10:30 rolled around, and I was mentally prepared to deal with the Diva.

THIS TIME, with my purse on the floor beside me, I stood in the bathroom and peed in a cup first. Last time, I almost peed on the floor from not doing it first. Then I grabbed the Diva cup. This time, the contents of my Monistat had decided to join the period party, so the cup was extremely full- almost to the top. I had a wad of toilet paper in my hand, and I shoved it into the Diva Cup, so it would soak up the contents and I wouldn’t have to see it. It was the perfect plan!

WHAT HAPPENED INSTEAD: As I shoved the toilet paper in the Diva Cup, I forgot to shove it in uniformly, due to my exhausted state. I focused on the side closest to me. The nasty-yuck in the cup shot out the other side (thankfully away from my bright yellow shirt) and slopped out onto my purse. My white and black CANVAS PURSE. Which now looked like a crime scene.

Horrified, I grabbed a stack of baby wipes and started scrubbing the purse, trying to remove the bloodstain as quick as I could, leaving my Diva Cup on the counter of the sink. I finally gave up on saving the purse, and looked back to the Diva Cup. Everything, including the toilet paper (if you could still call it that) and the other parts were slowly oozing down the counter and getting ready to go over the edge onto the floor. THE CARPETED FLOOR.

I scrambled with another stack of baby wipes and panic strickenly wiped my little heart out. I saved the carpet, but wound up killing half a box of baby wipes, and my favorite purse. And was in the bathroom for 20 minutes.

Then I had to deal with getting protection again. I figured since I had already lost the monistat, I might as well wear a tampon and change it every 30 minutes for the rest of the morning and afternoon. I NEEDED my Diva Cup, but the no water or flushing toilets issues sure did complicate matters. So tampons it was. Annoying, yes. But considering the present state of matters, it was worth it in the end.

I also decided that it would be best to hide ALL evidence of my Diva Sized disaster and shoved the gross baby wipes into another walmart bag. I grabbed another walmart bag and put the Diva Cup in there too- no way would I throw it out accidently. (FYI- once I searched through a garbage can to dig it out after it accidently fell in there. That's how much I love my Diva Cup!) Then I walked out into the throws of the rummage sale, holding my purse awkwardly so it wouldn’t get onto my yellow shirt, and went straight to my car, where I dumped my pee cup by my tire, and hid any other evidence of period chaos under my front seat.

All in all, Margaret the Saint had a wonderful turnout for the day, made some decent money, Matt and I both got sunburned, and it was a fantastic day overall.

And what did I learn???

Every Diva has her “day.”
PERIOD.

(And for the record, I would recommend a Diva Cup to anyone. I love it, and although I had technical issues with it this day, the problems were with the operator, not the cup itself! For more information about the Diva Cup, please visit their website!)

I should have been blogging....

It feels like forever since my last blog post. And I probably should have been blogging this whole time. But I am feeling a little stretched and overextended lately, and have been doing other things instead.

Things like....

...helping my mom clear out my Gma Bush's farmhouse. I have learned a lot about my Gma and the things that were important to her by sifting through her belongings. The woman had an intense love (bordering on sickness) of OFFICE SUPPLIES. Highlighters, paperclips, rubberbands, and pads upon pads of paper. The majority of those items are now residing on my new "desk," which to me represents Gma best. It's a set of filing cabinets with an old door on the top for the actual workspace. Matt said we didn't have room for it. I MADE ROOM.

...writing my very first novel. Yep, I have launched myself into the world of fiction. Even I will admit that was not a long leap for me- the girl with an overactive imagination. It's a thriller. Is there a genre called that? Does Borders have an aisle labeled "thrillers?" Maybe that is just considered a dance genre. Perhaps my novel will be sold under "suspense." I am certainly in suspense, wondering if I can actually pull this book off. I am finding writing fiction is far more challenging than reporting my life on a blog and facebook.

...avoiding the gi-nor-mous box of "Mary Cake" that is sitting on my dining room table. Most delicious cake ever. Seriously. I expressed that I would take a piece or 2 of the chocolate cake home after my brother's graduation/birthday party, and my husband came home with 3/4ths of a sheet cake. Sheet. This cake is killing me.

...learning how to stick to a budget. That is almost as hard as avoiding the Mary Cake! Thankfully, I have lots of support in this area, so that's a good thing. But it's hard. Those impulse buys get me every time.

...trying to cope while the kids are on their week of summer vacation with my ex. This is the toughest time for me as a mother, and it happens twice a year. Once in summer and once at Christmas. Never never never go cheap when hiring an attorney. EVER. You will pay the price for the next 18 years of your life.

...recovering from this insanely impossible to get rid of sinus infection. Today is the first day in a week and a half that I have felt close to normal. And I am still blowing my nose and coughing every 5 minutes and talking a bit scratchy. As an added bonus to my misery, the antibiotics gave me a front row seat to my least favorite band- THE YEASTY BOYS. You know, when they ask me if I'm allergic to any medicines next time, I think I will tell them I can't take penicillin. It is not worth the agony of a yeast infection when the humidity and heat index are outrageous.

So that's what's been going on in my world! Nothing new on the dieting front. Still maintaining at 180. (I refuse to say plateauing at 180 from this point forward. Plateauing makes it sound like I'm failing. But if I am maintaining, then I am finding incredible success! I could seriously stand to have a win in my corner this month. Especially with Mother Nature breathing down my neck. 2 more days and I will get to mess with Always AND Monistat! Yippee!!!)

What's going on in your world? Anything awesome or inspiring? Feel free to share!

A "Demi" Glaze

Weekend Video Update

I should know by now to do my hair and makeup before pouring out my heart. Sigh...