Posts Tagged ‘weigh-in’

Never Be Daunted

“Never be daunted.  Secret of my success.  Never been daunted.” – Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

It’s Friday, so it must be weigh-in day.  Which is good news – 264!

If you’re scoring at home, that’s 23 pounds, 18 weeks.

Every now and then the number still out there (57) is, well, daunting.  I agree that much of the secret of success is not being daunted.  But even after powering through 23 pounds, staring at nearly sixty, well, there’s no other word for it.

That said, I feel pretty good about being where I am.  And I know many of the changes I’ve made are permanent, because, for instance, the idea of Publix buttercream icing no longer makes my mouth water.  So I got that goin’ for me.

There’s no question that writing through the process on this blog is one of the things that helps keep the sense of daunting at bay.  I’m pretty sure Hemingway never gave a second thought to losing weight or any other aspect of living healthy.  I’m not as good a writer as Hemingway.  But I’m mighty determined to outlive him.

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Maybe It’s the Sleep Deprivation …

I’m almost as happy about having been correct yesterday as I am about being down three pounds in a week.  This morning I weighed-in at 265, which is 22 pounds in 17 weeks.  Being firmly back on the plan and emotionally in-control of what I eat makes all the difference.

But I don’t discount the extra coffee I’m drinking either.  Fighting sleep-deprivation with a three-week -old in the house is a real concern.  Maybe I’ll start a new fad diet:  “Shed pounds NOW with the NEW No-Sleep Plan!

(I’m kidding.  Unless somebody wants to pay me to write a No-Sleep Diet book, in which case, I’m open to the discussion.)

I would have been happy to get back to 267 this week, but I’m thrilled the correction in my thinking (leading to the correction on my plate) worked as well as it did.  The plateau is in my rear-view, and … for now … I’m rollin’ downhill.

Related to my own struggle with weight, and worth sharing with you, are the ongoing discussions my lovely wife and I have about our sprightly daughters and their current and future relationship to food.  Raising daughters to be happy and healthy in their own skins is tough business.  I don’t want to get too far off on this tangent, because it is it’s own topic, but it’s daunting to think about the horrible, unhealthy messages they’re going to face about food, weight and body-image in general.

Part of the problem is that, as a society, we no longer share a definition of what it means to eat healthy.  My lovely wife and our daughters’ pediatrician agree on a definition, and it’s essentially what I espouse here on this blog – the Michael Pollan “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants” ideal – but away from home?  It seems like everybody ha a different idea of what the phrase “healthy eating” is supposed to mean.

For some people, it means “eat whatever you want, but be very concerned about how much of it you eat.”  For others it conveys the dreaded, “fat free” concept.  For most school lunch planners it apparently means “PIZZA!”

Candy is a reward nearly everywhere for kids.  Everywhere but our house, that is.  Which is going to confuse the hell out of my daughters as they spend more time away from home.  If the reward for achievement at school (or pre-school) is sweets, and we don’t do that at home, do they perceive (subtly) that they’re not being rewarded at home?

Some of you will shake your head and think, “he worries too much.”  Some of you will think, “well, he just needs to be clear with the people his kids are around about what he means.”  Would that either of those things were that easy.  I do worry about it a lot.  Because, if you haven’t noticed, we’re in kind of an obesity epidemic.  Somebody’s got to worry about it, and it ain’t gonna be the schools.

I’m not looking for answers on this topic.  But I know many of you share the concern.  And if you don’t share it, and you have kids (or grandkids), I want to shake you up.

 

A Self-Induced Plateau

268.  Again.  That’s 19 pounds in 16 weeks.  Creeping ever closer to numbers that put me on-schedule instead of ahead of schedule.  Which is too close to behind schedule for comfort.

I know why I’m not losing, but need some momentum to the boulder rolling back up the hill.

Here’s how I’ve ended up on this plateau:  As regular readers and other friends know, back on June 16 my lovely wife delivered a brand-new sprightly daughter.  And since then, kind, sweet, talented cooks/friends have been delivering delectable dishes to our home.  For which we are truly grateful, as it means food is something we don’t have to think about as we figure out how baby Kennedy fits into the family structure (or, perhaps more correctly, how the family fits into baby Kennedy’s structure).

The problem with that (not thinking about food) is that I haven’t been thinking about food.  I’ve been just eating food, with the intention only of satisfying my hunger.  Which, for this body, is not enough.  I have to think more critically about what goes on my plate.  The food we’ve been brought is all healthy and delicious, but it’s time for me to stop and think, “Hmmm … do I need to fill the plate or will only one spoonful of that pasta do me better?”

I have this (well-meaning, but fat) voice in the back of my mind that keeps telling me it’s somehow rude to not eat the wonderful food people bring me when they bring it to me.  It’s not rude.  At all.  None of these fine people have intended me to eat everything at once, and all this food will freeze quite nicely.  But that voice, it’s a strong presence.  I suspect some of you know whereof I write.

Rude or not, this week it’s back to responsible portions.  I need to catch up.

 

Potato Chips, Tortilla Chips and Second Helpings

Grrr … 268.

That’s up a pound.  Nineteen pounds in 15 weeks.  I do not want to fight for the same ground twice anymore.

Not that it’s any excuse, but as regular readers will recall, we do have an (as of this writing) eight-day-old baby in the house.  And I’ve been dealing with insurance adjusters and body-shop owners all week as a result of the pickup truck that backed into our minivan a few days ago.  Which made chips (potato and tortilla) and second helpings (several times) reeaaaallly attractive.

My will power needs to be tougher than that.  I knew when I picked up the first chip it was a bad idea, and hey, look, I have evidence now!

I also know I “self-medicate” anxiety with, you guessed it, food.  Which is, I suppose, less destructive (at least in the short-term) than self-medicating with booze or less-legal drugs or philandering or violent behavior or a lot of other bad habits I’m blessed not to have.  But being “less-destructive” is not ok … it’s still “destructive.”

Maybe when I feel the siren-song of the deep-fryer calling in my more stressful moments I need to drop and give myself 20.  Redirect the emotion, so to speak.

There’s an enlightening article in the current Wired about “feedback loops.”  The example they use is of mobile traffic radar installations with a “your speed is ___” display instead of just a speed-limit sign or increased police presence.  They generally result in significantly lower speeds.  The article goes on to talk about other ways feedback loops can be applied for better living.

I think I’ve found one.  When I stray from the food plan – and KNOW I’m straying – I know (now, “with certitude”) it will show up at the scale.  I’ll let you know how it works.

So yes, I promised a post today about if/why/how processed food makes me want more processed food.  The above is actually an example of that, but I swear I’ll get into it more deeply (with a book rec!) later today or tomorrow at the latest.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Train Kept a Rollin’

Today’s Friday, and Friday’s weigh-in day:  268.  That’s 19 pounds in 13 weeks, or almost seven percent of my starting weight.

This morning I’m thinking about that lost weight as debris being thrown from a runaway train, littering the tracks behind me.  Don’t worry, it’s biodegradable.

And yes, I know the song referenced in the title above has nothing to do with losing weight or anything that could be construed as a healthy lifestyle.  I like train songs, and it’s a good analogy.  Give me some room to work, here.

Some post topics to which you can look forward in the coming days:  Easing into an exercise program, How fake/overprocessed food might be affecting us all and Why avoiding a stroke has become a Big Deal for me.

Thanks for reading!

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