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When you go work at a place, and there’s a gym there, that you don’t have to pay to join, and you can work out on your lunch hour?

There’s really no excuse for not exercising.

Today I did. 20 minutes on the elliptical (previously known in these parts as the elliptihell, but I’m trying to stay positive here). I went to go do some “ab work” ha ha ha. I laid down on the ground, stayed there for a few minutes, and decided that getting up from that position was enough ab work. To be fair *cough, cough* I did just do yogalates last night, and my ab muscles are still screaming. Less insistently than they did last week, but still. Screaming.

I’m pretty proud. The eating, it is getting there, especially during the week. Weekends, as always, are where my biggest challenges lie. (weekends, and right after I get home from work.)

I’m just taking it one decision at a time. A friend of mine who has been around this block a few times had suggested that a long time ago, before I was ready to hear it. I was all about losing huge amounts of weight, and she told me to take it one choice at a time. Try to eat healthy for lunch, if you want to eat crap for dinner, well, that’s at dinner time. When you get to dinner, try to make good choices there. And so on. The same goes for exercising. I’ll exercise today, and if I don’t tomorrow, that’s my choice. Then when I get to tomorrow, try to make that good choice. One choice, one decision, one step at a time, makes the road seem much less overwhelming. I can handle one choice. I can honestly not handle the idea of changing my whole lifestyle or going on a diet. I can handle the idea of trying to make one small choice at a time, and seeing where it gets me.

We shall see.

I’m leaving in a minute for yogalates.

There’s no chocolate cake in the house to reward myself with. I guess I’ll have to find something else. Perhaps… the joy of knowing I made a good decision for myself by going?

Ha. That’s very very funny.

Yogalates.

Then chocolate cake.

Baby steps here, people. Baby steps. No major reorganization of my life, no diet. Just… baby steps.

Almost eight months ago I wrote a break-up letter to junk food. I read it now and think… “What was I thinking?”

Here’s the new letter:

Dear crap that I eat on a regular basis,

I feel like you are feeling like Justin Bobby. I’ve said a million times that I’m done, and each time I promise that this time, I really mean it. I’m done with you. Yet I always come crying back. I listen to your promises. I believe you when you tell me you won’t make me fat, and that you’ll make me feel better. I will reminisce about all the good times we’ve had, and want them back. So I’ll come back, with a stronger attachment than ever.

Why would you believe me when I say I’m done?

I’m going to be honest here, unhealthy eating. I’m not done. I love you so much. I love not having to say no. I love the freedom that comes with. I adore that total lack of self-discipline it takes to be wholly involved with you. It feels so easy to just let us abuse each other, with a wonderful devil-may-care attitude.

I don’t love the consequences that you come with, though. They are almost enough to make me leave you, again. They are almost enough to make me go back to the nice habits in my life, Eating Right and Exercise. Almost. I don’t love the way you make my pants feel. They feel gross all the time. I wish I could just wear sweatpants day in and day out, they feel so nice and comfortable. I don’t like the way my body feels. I feel slow, sluggish, and tired. I never feel good. I hate the way my body looks. I am back to avoiding mirrors, and I feel like nothing looks cute on me. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

I also hate the way that how I feel about my body and my relationship with you carries over into other aspects of my life. I don’t take good care of myself. I can find the time for sitting around  and for hanging with you, Unhealthy Eating, but I can’t find the time to take a walk?!?!

Yet I love you so much. I don’t know why. I truly don’t understand the hold you have on me, much in the way that Justin Bobby has a hold on Audrina. I don’t know why I can’t say no to you. Even when I spend six, eight, or twelve months apart, only coming around for naughty trysts every few months, I still come crawling back to you full time. I know I love the freedom from self-discipline and saying no that you offer. I know that I love the allure of laziness that  you tempt me with. I know that I love the ability to indulge my every emotional whim.

The consequences of such an affair, they are not insignificant. Yet I just can’t seem to care.

I know we need to end this soon. The trouble is, that it must be for good. And I don’t know how.

Yours,

Paige

In case you were wondering…

The weight loss thing is not happening right now. As in, officially. After work yesterday I bought a bag of Cheetos and took them home with me. (Call me Britney.)

I just don’t care. I don’t know. I want to be skinnier, and not hate myself quite so much when I look in the mirror. But right now, how I look, what I wear, my health- none of them are motivating me enough to make good food choices or get off my ass and exercise.

Rather than make myself miserable by half-assing it, I’m just going to do what I’m going to do. I’m going to make some effort to not go bananas (i.e.: I didn’t buy the tube of cookie dough yesterday to sit and eat raw with a spoon. Go me with the willpower!), but I am not going to make myself nuts pretending that I care about weight loss when in all honesty, right now I just do not.

So there it is. I’m fully disclosed. I just don’t care right now.

Really. I just can’t do it. I mean, I can. I just don’t want to. Or like to. Or seem to be able to find any motivation to do so.

Seriously. For the longest time my big whine was “I don’t want to get up early in the morning!”

Twice now I’ve gotten up. Monday I got up and went “walking” which really means I took my camera out and took some pictures. Today I got up and…. got up. And didn’t exercise. WTF? I wasted waking up early. To not exercise.

Since I’m not getting skinnier, here are a few of the pics from Monday’s “exercise”.

Blurry, I know, but a good picture of the colors of fall in New England!

Early morning sky

Last remnant of summer

Isn’t she cute?

When I stopped exercising (I pretty much totally stopped when I spent the three weeks in the hotel in Pittsburgh. I brought everything with me, then just… didn’t do it.), I was doing really well. I was using 12-15 pound weights and was just able to get through even the really hard parts in some of my Firm videos. I had started using some other videos that were hard, and getting through them.

Then I stopped.

I did a video on Thursday. Back in January/ February, this one was easy. I still broke a sweat, but it was a good video for a day when I wanted to exercise but not do anything too difficult.

Yeaaaaaaah. I barely got through the warm-up. I got through the video, and was proud that I got through it. But also sad, because it goes to show that not onlyhave I stalled in the progress I’ve made, my body has gone backwards.

There that is. It’s an upwards climb, that’s for sure.

This blog started as a weight loss blog.

And, of course, in my world sometimes I’m trying to lose weight and sometimes… well… I’m not. Sometimes I’m working on loving myself no matter my size, sometimes I’m trying to love myself by taking care of myself and losing weight.

Probably just about this whole year, I haven’t really been committed to weight loss for myself.

I’m not sure I am still.

However, today I did something I haven’t done in a while: I exercised.

That’s right, broke out a very easy Firm video and got down.

Woot! Go me.

A very popular catchphrase in the dieting world these days is “lifestyle change”. I’m not entirely sure I subscribe to this phrase. I’ve made a “lifestyle change” no less than four times.

I’m in the middle of the fifth lifestyle change. I’ve done the Lean Cuisine Lifestyle Change, the Weight Watchers Lifestyle Change (three times), the Diabetic Exchange Lifestyle Change, and now I’m working on the I Have No Clue What I’m Doing Lifestyle Change.

Let’s not even talk about exercise plans. I’ve done the Swimming thing. I’ve done Yoga Booty Ballet. Done the go-to-the-gym-for-two-months-pay-for-a-year plan. I’ve done the Firm. Have tried running and walking. I briefly tried some striptease videos that were horrible.

Here’s the problem. First of all, nothing has actually been a lifestyle change. I like crap for food. Do I love myself enough to make the changes?? I don’t know. See, I reaaaaaaaaally like the foods I recently broke up with. I mean, I love them. I don’t want to imagine a life without them. Every time I start a new “lifestyle change” it goes great for the first… week… month… four months. The longest I have ever lasted is six months. I have actually stuck with exercise longer than I have with my diets lifestyle changes.

Here’s where I am now. I am lost, that’s where I am. Right before I lost my dad and grandma, I was kind of stuck. I had been doing the diabetic exchange, but had kind of plateau-ed. I started looking at my exercise. Well. One place tells you it’s important to do cardio. Another tells you NO! Skip cardio, you need weight training! Lift heavy! Lift light! The third tells you to do both. One says work muscles every other day, another says you can do every day. One says eat before you exercise, another says not to. How do you know?

It’s way worse with the food stuff. Between Weight Watchers, Diabetic Exchange, South Beach, the Zone, low Glycemic Index, low carb, low fat, low calorie, no carb, Mediterranean Diet, YOU on a diet… what’s the right one?? If you read one it sounds wonderful. It sounds like exactly what you need. It makes promises it can never keep. Then you read the next set of information and it tells you how wrong the last set was, and how THIS is the important one.

I know what you’re thinking. No, really I do. You’re thinking one of two things. The first is this: “Well, I did _______ and it worked for me! I’ve taken it off and kept it off for _________ amount of time and this is my lifestyle change. You should try ________.” Or number two: “Keep it simple Paige. Just cut the calories and exercise. The details don’t matter. Eat less, exercise more. It’s simple.”

I know. I’ve thought both things. I’ve tried both things. Been there, lived that. I’m truly at a loss. I need to talk to someone in real life about it and not get my information from the internet. In the meantime…???

So. I started out at 199. (you know- one. nine. nine.?) Then, two weeks later, I had not really done anything, had made a very half-assed effort at eating well and exercising, the whole shebang. I felt sorry for myself- poor me! Dad died! Grandma died! I’m fat and my clothes don’t fit! I must eat more!!

 So I did. Then last week I decided to get up off of my ass and do something about it. I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. Let me clarify: I did not say stop the grieving process. I am still grieving. I am still sad. But I am not eating my feelings. I’m not using grief and all it’s associated feelings as an excuse to eat whatever the hell I want all the time, as much of it as I want, and sit on the couch all the time.

I got on the scale on Monday, the first day of my fourth attempt to lose weight. (ah, that’s a FUN sentence to write.) The scale laughed at me. It said “hahaha!! Look at that loser, you gained SIX pounds in the past two weeks!” (I gain weight VERY easily, I think. Or that’s just an excuse and everyone gains six pounds in two weeks.) I was up to a solid two. zero. five.

However, I made some much better choices. I didn’t let the scale or my feelings dictate how I ate. I am following the old diabetic exchange, but pretty loosely. I’m doing it a little lower carb and a little less regimented, but with the same basic outline. I am exercising, but I’m alternating videos (the Firm) and walking. The goal is to not get sick of what I’m doing. I’m already sick of eggbeaters, but that’s another story.

So. Monday I got on the scale- it didn’t laugh as hard. It told me that I had lost 2.8 pounds, down to 102.8.

It’s a start at least.  A move in the right direction. Have things been perfect? No. However, they are better. I’m finally making decent choices. I’m loving myself enough to make the good choices. Huh.

It’s time to stop feeling sorry for myself. Get over it. Move on.

And start losing weight again.

Most of the junk has been thrown away, the rest will go tonight. Healthy food has been bought. A plan has been made (the Diabetic Exchange, except a bit more low-carb) and exercise will be happening.

I fully expect to be a raging bitch for the next few days, as I will be going off caffeine, fat, and sugar all at once, as well as adding exercise. Khalil already told me he’s glad he’ll be out of town for a few days.

I have to do this. I feel disgusting, I know I’m not healthy, I’m tired all the time. And none of my clothes fit. I need to put FAT clothes in the FAT bin again.

Those were the three numbers that showed up on my scale on Monday. In that order. Last time I stepped on a scale, it was a bit closer to… 18something. 3? 5? I have gained at least fifteen pounds. In approximately two months. That’s by far the fastest I’ve ever gained, I think at least. I certainly don’t question that I gained it. I am the Queen of Eating Crap and Not Exercising.

When I mentioned to Khalil how much weight I’ve gained, he said, “Hon?” and I said, “What?” He said, “It’s ok”. And I have to believe him. Am I sad? Yes. Am I frustrated? Yes. Do I have to let all of that go and focus on what I have to do? Yes.

I’m frustrated with myself. I hate the way my body looks. I’m still trying to squeeze my 1 9 9 body into my 1 8 3 clothes. The result is not cute. I do not recommend it. I had to pull out the big tub and pull out some of my 1 9 9 clothes. That was sad, frustrating, and a wee bit… humiliating? I didn’t do it in front of anyone, but still feel humiliated. I put those clothes away with the plans to never pull them out again unless I was losing baby weight. Instead I’m losing stress and baby weight. Which royally sucks.

I hate the way my body feels. I have a distinct recollection of not having all of this extra fat on my body. I remember when I had more energy. I remember not feeling this way. I remember not cringing when I looked in the mirror. Those feelings aren’t far away because time wise, it was only about a month and a half to two months ago when I felt that way. I remember being frustrated about gaining a little weight over Christmas. About not being able to get under 181. Now I’m back at almost 200.

Here’s the thing. In order to not feel my feelings, I’m still eating them. Also, I’m doing this in part because I just don’t yet feel like I have the energy to make the good food choices. So I’m still making the crappy food choices. Go me. Every time I’m presented with the option, I make a crappy choice. Choice A: (somewhat less crappy) sausage and peppers and onions, on a small roll, two slices of cheese. Apple. Small bag of chips. Choice B: (seriously more crappy) Quarter pounder with cheese, fries, diet coke, chocolate shake. What do you think I chose yesterday? B. Why? For the simple reason that I felt like it. And I couldn’t bear to deny myself food. Not yet. I feel so sad, so overwhelmed, so frustrated with everything else that I cannot. deny. myself. food.

On the upswing, I have been exercising. I have worked out the last three days in a row. I’m tired, and having a hard time getting through the workouts. But I’m pushing through. Making this positive choice, the choice to do something really and truly good for me feels oh-so-good. It feels right. It makes me happy. Then I enter the rest of my day. And that feeling fades away into the stress, sadness, and being overwhelmed.

I know that I will get there. I have no doubt that I will be back to the place where I can make positive choices about food. Where I can deny myself the negative choices and remind myself that I’m worth the better choices. And that what feels like self-denial is really self-praise, because it means that I’m loving myself enough to make the positive choices. In the meantime, I shall cross my fingers that the exercise helps, and I’ll give myself a little extra room and forgiveness. I will know that I will get there, and that time will be soon. It’s coming.

Last week exercising sucked. This week? My two workouts have been awesome, and today? I found myself daydreaming about which video I was going to do, if I like it, if it was going to be fun… I was looking forward to exercising.

Feel free to sit down. I need to. I know- I hate exercise. But… not so much. I love the way it makes me feel. I think I needed the break, though. It was almost like I was burning out, and now I’m looking forward to it again. Go me.

*****

I know I’m PMSing when everything makes me cry. Commercials, TV shows. Bloggers closing their blogs down, writing about cats dying, and about their grandpas with Alzheimers. Other ridiculous stuff too, but that’s only been the last thirty minutes. I hate this part.

*****

My friend? Who I’m very close to? Is in the middle of losing her friend. Been there, done that. Her friend is being vicious and cruel, and it makes me so sad. And makes me feel so protective. It’s so painful to me- I don’t have many, so I realize how precious friends and friendship are. We treat it so callously, as though it’s not a rare and valuable gift. I understand, I really do, that sometimes it’s time for friendships to end. But if they do need to end, I wish they could end in a way that somehow respects the time spent as friends. I think that it’s often too painful to do this, but it would be… nice.

*****

I signed up today for Short-term disability through work. (STD in online baby-making communities, which cracks me up to no end.) If I was not PMSing I would think this would guarantee a pregnancy this month, as that seems to be the way my luck rolls. Sign up for STD? Can’t use it for a pregnancy for ~11 months? If you got pregnant this month, you’d have the baby right when Khalil starts teaching and his Masters? What more perfect timing could there be??

*****

I’m sorry it’s random and a bit of a downer. This perfectly expresses how I feel. I wish I could write like her, one of my favorite bloggers, whose format I copied. But she ties everything together at the end, and I can’t do that.

This weekend I have been relaxing. Chillin’. I sat on my couch so much that my neck started to hurt. I didn’t leave the apartment a whole lot. I didn’t exercise. I ate whatever I wanted. I went to bed early and got up late. I watched a zillion movies and alot of TV. I started a puzzle. Cuddled with my husband and my kitten.

It was a great weekend. Don’t get me wrong.

But tomorrow? Reality strikes. I’m dreading it.

Tomorrow I have to get up and exercise. I have to measure out my breakfast and lunch. I have to eat what I have measured and not more. I have to eat what I bring for lunch. I need to think about it.

I think that’s been the best part of the weekend. I didn’t have to think about a whole lot. I just ate whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I honestly didn’t go crazy with the food, by some miracle. But I didn’t eat well, either. Not by the ‘xchange standards, anyways. I ate alot of carbs and alot of sugar.

I’ll miss being home. I’ll miss Rory and seeing my husband all day. I’ll miss the relaxing part of the weekend. I needed it and I’m not ready to go back. I don’t have a choice, but I’m going back to my real life under protest. Wish me luck.

I’m not in a place today to be able to do a Love Thursday post. I’m just… not. I’m sorry.

Today, I ran.

The post should end there. That news is so big that the post should just end there. I got up too late to do a full Firm video, and so I decided to go out for a walk. I wasn’t in a good mood for other reasons, and so a walk was a good idea.

I walked down my very long driveway to the road. Then I decided to run. You should know, I hate running. Hate it. Within two seconds I’m usually cramping and fire is shooting up my calves and thighs. So I stop and walk. But today was somehow different. Today, I started running and couldn’t stop. It was kind of like Forrest Gump but ALOT less distance. I only ran down my street and down another street, but they were pretty long streets. It took me about 15-20 minutes to run. I can honestly say that I have never in my entire life run for 15 minutes straight.

By the end I had the ‘ole cramping-gut-fire-in-legs feeling, but I got to my goal. Which I only set towards the end.

I don’t know what was different. I really don’t. I NEVER RUN. Today, I ran. This huge long amount. The whole time I was running I had visions of becoming a marathon runner (I never get carried away with stuff). But I didn’t mind it. It felt good. I don’t know- it felt like I pounded all my angst and frustration out one step at a time.

Who knows if it will ever happen again. We’ll see. But for today, I ran.

And we didn’t go to the support group. So there that is.