I see skinny people and immediately want to ask them – what, exactly, do you eat? How much? Really?No, really? Tell me really.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many conversations I have with the dietitian, I just keep screwing it up again and again. I let myself continue to be bad the day I go to the dietitian…and the day after…and then, soon, it’s the day after that and I’m still being bad, still eating chips, still stuffing my face.

It feels to me like I’ve always eaten like this. Like I’ve always eaten too much, more than I should, more than I could possibly burn. I don’t want to be fat. Don’t want to weigh as much as I do. Don’t want to be uncomfortable in my own skin, mystified by the folds and flab.

I see women in wedding dresses and before I consider anything else…I consider the shapeliness of their shoulders, collarbone visibility, any visible overflow at the armpits…and, typically, I discount the dress as an option for myself someday.  I know I’d like to wear a strapless dress someday.  Or, at least, to know I have the OPTION.

My sister wore one last year and she’s a curvaceous person (more generously proportioned then than now). I’m sure it would be OK either way as long as the dress fit. I just like the way slim people seem able to pull it all off without any risk or fear. I’m not even engaged for pete’s sake, but I’m suddenly thinking about these things.Thinking that I need to get my act in gear so that when it happens I won’t suddenly feel like I need to go on a diet. I don’t like that I’m even thinking about this.I don’t like that I want or need to be thinner.

Forget the wedding dress.  I just want to be able to go into Reitman’s and shop at the front of the store.  There are dozens of sundresses on the racks out front this year and NOTHING on the racks at the back.  I want something cute to wear.  Something light and fun that makes me feel good.  I’m tired of all of the “big momma” wear…tired of the same old, same old blouses and pants, the same polyester tops (now with even more patterns!)…I want to look and feel my age.

If you’re still out there, please update your links:

http://roadtoambition.wordpress.com

Thanks!

This is the post where I decided it was OK to switch the old blog back on and let people know (if there were any left) that I was posting again.  Sort of.

On September 11, 2008 I merged the two blogs.  Might as well include the backstory, right?

My friends and I have been going to Pilates since February of last year (with a break for the summer).  We have a private class and it’s one of the best parts of my week.  Even when I wasn’t moving much on my own at least I had an hour a week when I knew I would be…and when life is moving too fast to catch up with friends there’s always Wednesday to look forward to.

For quite awhile, our instructor has been telling us about “Boot Camp” and all of the benefits we might get out of it.  One of the girls took the bait a few months ago and RAVED about the benefits.  And then she quit both Boot Camp and Pilates because she was having some health problems (I would guess that she’s + 50 lbs heavier than I am; problems were joint and heart-related).  The divine Ms G has continued to tell us about the class (never a pitch, just something we might think about) and this week, after another gain, I decided to go for it.  I mentioned it during our class and two of the others said they would be up for it.

Today was the day.  I got up around 7:45 and made myself a bowl of oatmeal.  G’s instructions were very clear:  eat something at least an hour before class.  We’d need the fuel and if we waited we’d puke.  Never a fan of puking, I finished my oatmeal and drank about 750 ml of water.

I was the first to arrive and G cheered for me as soon as I walked in the door.  Another instructor (also a colleague) came around the corner and grinned.  “You’re here for Boot Camp? That’s GREAT!”

Cut to the chase:

It was awful and awesome.  My feet killed me during certain parts of the circuit (I got a fab new pair of sneakers on Thursday; wore them all day Thu and Fri…no issues but I do need some kind of gel insert or something for the heel / arch) and there were times when I came close to tears.  Very close, actually.  But I did it.  As hard as I could (which wasn’t always very hard but I kept moving, kept pushing myself through the moves), I did it.  It was HARD.  F*$% me, it was hard.  But I did it.

My legs were jelly when I walked out and I could already feel it when I laughed or climbed a couple of stairs.  I had a bowl of Fibre 1, a glass of milk (1%) and a tbsp of peanut butter about 45 minutes after I got home and have been drinking water since then.  One of the two seasoned members of the class warned us not to just go home and sit / flop, so I’ve been doing load after load of laundry and hanging it out on the line.  The lugging up stairs and the reaching overhead is rough but it’s good.  I’m glad I’m still moving the muscles because holy hell.  I can already tell the next few days it’s going to be rough.  It’s muscular, though.  I like it.  My bod does too.  It remembers this feeling.

At this point, I hope to go back next week if I can squeeze it in (I’ve got two other commitments later in the morning).  For now, off I got.  There’s lots of cleaning to be done while my endorphins are high and my muscles haven’t figured out how much pain they’re *really* in.

Happy Saturday!

Eight months ago, I gave up Diet Pepsi. I was an addict, barely managing a +2 litre/day habit. I was rarely seen without DP, I dragged it to every party and complained (mostly to myself, but sometimes not) when beverages would be put out for a meeting and DP wasn’t included. If I ran out, if there was none in the house…I thought constantly about when and where I was going to get more. I couldn’t tell you how many litres of diet pepsi home from the grocery store or how my little heart pounded wildly when it went on sale for $0.88/bottle. I drank it in the morning. I drank it in the evening. I drank it before bed and if I woke up thirsty in the afternoon, I’d drink more.

It was nuts. I knew it was nuts but I couldn’t help myself. Or, at least, I didn’t think I could.

I went on vacation in July, visiting my sister and meeting friends in Montreal. I went through at least 18 cans of DP while staying with my sister and I packed what remained of the second case when I left for Montreal. It was hot, damn hot, and I felt miserable even as I tried to drink a bit of water to ensure hydration.

Here’s the thing — with the amount of DP I was drinking, hydration just wasn’t possible. By the time the end of my vacation rolled around I felt crummy. I’m sure I felt the same way at home but it didn’t matter there. There were lots of things to make me feel crappy at home, so the DP-crappiness was overlooked.

The day before we left Montreal I read an article about pop (diet in particular, I think) and its effects on the human body, particularly on a person’s metabolism and the activity of their heart. Maybe that’s not what it was about but that’s what I think it was about.

I had two cans of DP left and I made a decision: when I got home, I was quitting.

To be continued…

I have a love-hate relationship with shoes. Right now, I’m especially hating my sneakers. And, in fact, all of my shoes need to be replaced. I tend to favour one pair or the other and wear them right into the ground. It’s because I love them. And because I finally clued in that cheap, narrow shoes just aren’t compatible with my well-endowed, wide feet. Now that we’re coming into Spring, the every-day-for-all-occasions less-than-foxy winter boots have been put away and I now need to figure out how to dress my feet again. If I’m honest, I need to figure out how to dress my body again too but the feet are Priority #1. Starting with sneakers.

Last week’s epiphany: schedule time for exercise. I can make it to meetings with other people but I can’t commit to looking after myself. So I booked a meeting with myself and invited a small handful of people to join me for walks at lunch three days a week. It’s a standing appointment and the hope is that each of us will be able to make it at least twice a week. We went once last week and today was my second walk.

Thursday’s walk was agonizing. With the pain comes a lot of negative self talk. “Fat” is definitely the recurring theme, with room for specific comments about my lack of commitment to regular exercise (ignoring the fact that I am, in fact, out for a walk), good nutrition (I’m seeing a nutritionist and have committed to weekly appointments from now until May 31), etc. Thursday my lower back ached and my calves burned before we’d walked any distance at all. I stopped at one point because I was winded, but I think it was more that the pain my lower back was taking my breath away. Eventually, it loosened up and even my calves hurt less by the time we got back 50 minutes later.

Today, I stretched before going out, remembering to do the calf stretches my Pilates instructor recommended. Amazingly, the pain in my calves was even worse and I needed to stop again on the way back (we only went half as far this time; the trails are flooded) to try stretching them. Much like when I have pins and needles, stretching to relieve the pain was almost unbearable (I knew it would help but it took a lot to push myself through it). Walking again, I realized that the pain was related to the surface we were walking on; gravel was bad, sidewalks were worse and, surprisingly, walking on the grass was almost bearable. Wait a minute…

Lightbulb! It’s not me so much as the shoes (OK – it’s probably 50/50).

Here’s why: I’ve continued to think of my sneakers as new but the fact is that they’re four years old. They got a lot of action during the first six months or so but were used only sporadically after that. I lost track of the number of miles I put on them. The suckers are worn out and I’m 50 lbs heavier than I was when I bought them. No wonder I need new shoes. SO. Thursday is pay day. I’m going to go to the Running Room for a fitting, get myself a new pair of shoes if at all possible and, with any luck, I’ll be back in action on Friday at lunch. In the meantime, I’ve got Pilates on Wednesday and plan to walk home from work each night.

I met with the dietitian on Tuesday afternoon. We had a good meeting and she was pleased to see my little notebook, praised me for keeping myself accountable and cheered me on when the scale showed a bit of a pay-off (-1.2 lbs – YAY TEAM!). We talked about my challenges and successes, set some new goals and I went away feeling great.

Since then, it has been a hectic week. Wednesday was wild. I worked through lunch and went full tilt until I dropped into bed (in another city altogether) around midnight. Thursday morning I was up at 6:30 and meeting and greeting people at a conference just an hour later. I started the day with orange juice and a piece of cheese but followed it with 2.5 danish-type goodies. Lunch wasn’t bad (a sandwich and a very small serving of corn/veggie chowder) and supper was pretty good (a huge salad + 2 hotdogs; it kind of balanced out)…

No one cares what I had for lunch. The point is that I’ve made reasonably good choices when possible but I’ve also had more than I should have of the ‘bad stuff.’ I haven’t written a thing down since my appointment on Tuesday and I already miss the accountability. I like seeing how much water I’ve had to drink, highlighting the veggies and keeping an eye on the patterns (am I eating constantly or are there breaks in between? did I just graze all day or did I have actual meals?). I can’t believe I miss that already. I need to dig out my little book and get back at it.

I did well on the weekend. My beau and I were at his mother’s house for most of it and it was amazing to see the difference between Easter Sunday at my Mum’s house and Easter Sunday at his Mum’s house.

First of all, I think that the best thing about being a grownup is that we can have cake for breakfast whenever we want to. We don’t all do that, but the point is that we can.

In my world, Easter Sunday is the one day when kids and grownups alike get to have their cake and eat it for breakfast! Everyone wakes up early to find what the Bunny has left during the night, i.e. chocolate and skipping ropes in the dining room and chocolate eggs or jelly beans hidden all around the house. The egg hunt happens almost immediately and, assuming they haven’t been total punks, the kids are allowed to have some chocolate or other goodies first thing.

[Things have evolved over the years but one hard and fast rule remains: chocolate before Cheerios]

In my beau’s world, things are different. On Sunday morning, everyone got ready for church and had breakfast as they went along. The first evidence of the Bunny’s visit was seen at church where eggs were ‘hidden’ in full view. After church, my beau found me in the living room eating a tiny, peanut butter-filled egg.

“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling guilty.

“You’re going to spoil your lunch!”

“No way. There’s no way it will spoil my lunch and, besides, chocolate for breakfast is the RULE on Easter at my house!”

“Well…I’m glad you’re able to bring some of your traditions with you,” he laughed.

[Note: He truly thinks I’m perfect just the way I am.]

So we had lunch and eventually got down to Bunny business. The goodies were lovely and I enjoyed the company but it made me miss being at my Mum’s place.

For the most part, we’re grazers at Mum’s. I unselfconsciously pick at food all day, whether it’s chocolate, chips, crackers or some other goodie. I’m not saying it’s healthy, but it’s how we operate. Things really aren’t that much different at my place. I rarely make myself supper when I’m home alone, which is most of the time.

At my beau’s, whether we’re at his place or at his mum’s, we eat meals and snacks…but with actual gaps in between. I liked it. I missed the pick-pick-picking but I didn’t feel deprived. A little bit out of sorts at times, like I was missing something, but overall I liked it.

Back to work this week, I’ve been keeping track of my food intake to see what the natural patterns are like and to see how well I do eating enough vegetables, etc. So far, like I say, the grazing pattern is shining through loud and clear. Yesterday, after a morning long breakfast of mini eggs (5), an orange and an All Bran bar, I had a two servings of fresh green beans, a turkey sandwich and a small piece of cheese for lunch. Everything was washed down with a couple of litres of water. But I still wanted something. There needed to be more. When the coffee cart came around, I bought a bag of plain chips. I ate two thirds and closed them up. Then I ate half of a 39 g bag of mini eggs. And then I put those away.

I was virtuous for a whole 40 minutes.

CHOMP! CHOMP! CHOMP!

The rest of the chips and chocolate disappeared.

I kept drinking my water and tried not to feel guilty about it.

I skipped supper in favour of a late night graze on chocolate and a small bag of light microwave popcorn. And more water (4.25 L total by the end of the day).

This morning, I started again.

Immediately, I was off track. Three mini eggs this time, followed by an orange and an All Bran bar. Around 11:30 I started working on my green beans. At 12:30 I had a bacon and lettuce sandwich and a piece of cheese. After all of that I felt physically full but not mentally. There was still a hole there, still a little growly feeling, still a need to eat. At 1:30 I started fantasizing about the salty goodness I would buy when the cart came around.

Amazingly, I took action. Positive action.

I made myself a bowl of instant oatmeal, added a bit of brown sugar and used it to fill the gap. Now I’m full. Seriously full. My brain wants salt but I can’t possibly eat anything.

I need to be sure to eat supper tonight. I have a meeting out of town and will need the fuel to get me through until I get back sometime late this evening when thankfully, mercifully, I’ll be able to go to bed for the night. Can’t wait!

I’ve decided to start writing about trying to lose weight and getting motivated again. The blogspot version of Road to Ambition was good to me, way back when, but I need a fresh start. No skeletons, no nothing. This is me. This is now.

I went to see a nutritionist a few weeks ago and I weighed 231.6 lbs. Ten days later, I weighed in again (after, admittedly, not doing much of anything) and I was .4 lbs higher and exactly 100 lbs heavier than one of my favourite people.

It’s not about them, though, it’s about me.

I need to get my weight under control and down to a level that no longer puts my health at risk. I need to stay motivated and focus on eating well and exercising more. I need a place to write about my struggle with all of this and I know from experience that sharing it out here can be a very good thing. Blogging has helped to motivate me in other areas of my life (and it’s helped with this one in the past, to a point), so why not now?

All signs point to yes. It’s time to try again.

I’m pretty sure that the article encouraging readers to eat lots of protein and carbohydrates after working out didn’t intend for me to eat french toast and bacon for supper. On the upside, it was multigrain bread and I had it with apple juice. On the downside, there was butter and maple syrup involved.

* * * * *

I ate McDonald’s three times this past weekend. Once during one of six trips to pick up wedding stuff, once the day of the wedding and once after finally returning the last load of wedding stuff (two days after the wedding). On the upside, I drank water instead of pop every time (ordering an extra bottle two out of three times) and only had fries twice. On the downside, I had McChicken sauce and salt with my fries both times.

* * * * *

The wedding was this weekend and I ran my tail off. Six trips in the truck the day before the wedding, lots of lugging and hauling and setting up…then more the day of the wedding, lots of dancing and then tearing down and lugging shit back the day after. On the upside, I didn’t have a minute to sit and likely burned a zillion calories. On the downside, there was a lot of yummy, junky food around to eat and I didn’t always choose well. Vegetables were few and far between.

* * * * *

I went for a bike ride last night and another one tonight. On the upside, yay team! On the downside, bugs. Lots and lots of clouds of white bugs. I guess there’s an upside to that, too, though — protein!

* * * * *

I bought myself a new lunchbag last week. On the upside, today’s bag had apple juice, an orange, porridge, a couple of Pirate cookies and some dark chocolate in it. On the downside, I had a cinnamon bun for breakfast and a bacon sandwich for lunch.

* * * * *

Obviously, I’m into bacon these days. On the upside, it’s bacon! On the downside, it’s bacon.

When I’m riled, I have a habit of listing all of the things I have had on the go…as if it somehow validates my tiredness, etc. One aspect of my perfectionism is that I think I should be 110% productive 110% of the time without ever, ever getting tired or cranky. When I am tired from go-go-going, it’s not uncommon to hear a monologue (because, let’s face it, nobody else gets to talk) like this:

So Thursday night my friend brought me the car and we went to a food / party supply place to look for bachelorette-party-appropriate candies and other things my sister might be able to actually use but then there was too much to choose from and she wasn’t home when I called so I left a message with her mother in law — have I mentioned that her in laws are living with her right now? OMG long story — and ended up putting everything back and then going home and sleeping and working and then running home at lunch to pack and leaving straight from work and work was madness and then fly fly flying to the dressmakers which is near home and 1.5 hours away and getting fitted and oh the mirror was bad and my underwear was worse but it’ll probably be ok if I don’t wear socks and dress sandals the day of the wedding and then running to the liquor store and then to the drugstore in town to get additional goodies and OMG this water business is killing me because I almost peed my pants at the drugstore — twice! and then I went to the surprise bachelorette party and it was awesome she was totally surprised and i broke a glass and bruised my arm and yay sober girl and then i went to mum’s and stayed the night and then rushed out to breakfast with friends and then back to mum’s to clean clean clean — OMG I did the fridge – and then out that night with another dress fitting squeezed in oh wait this is when I wore the socks and bad underwear and back that night and up the next morning to clean and tape off the bathroom and clean some more and then a dry run to see about flowers and then phone rang and I drove like a bat out of hell — it turns out for nothing — and that was the weekend and I was a total bitch on Monday even at my meeting with another board member so I went home and slept for four hours and out for groceries and wrote a post and talked wedding business and then slept all night and Tuesday was a lot better although long day at work + home at lunch to clean because I had company coming for supper after work and then they came and it was fun and we stuffed our faces and laughed laughed laughed and then I went for a 15 km bike ride and had an encounter with a bat and then yesterday was wild too because I worked and ran to the store and home at lunch to make something to take to a work potluck last night and then back to work plus a couple of wedding-y emails and the potluck was awesome — so fun! so much food! so yum! — and then I went home and instead of a bike ride I went shoe shopping — finally — and found possible shoes for five bucks I just home my youngest sister can find a matching pair in her town because they were all out here and then I tried on bras and support garments and OMG what a nightmare did you know I’m probably, actually, maybe a DD not a D? and then home and my stomach was upset and then the phone and finally bed at eleven where I dropped like a stone and now this is my second post of the day and I’m wearing a tooth whitening thing before work and and…oh, sorry…how are you?

So. Yeah. It’s been quite a week. And there’s more to come…hair tonight home tomorrow plus work both days and hopefully a bike ride and more shopping (yuck) and a trip to the psychic (because what wedding would be complete without a few doubts about one’s future / viability as a potential mother/relationship partner?) and then…Obviously, my inner monologue is very Finnegan’s Wake without being of any cultural interest. That’s the inner voice. That’s the stuff that’s on loop all day. The constant tally. And I continue to beat myself up for not doing enough and for being tired. I should be doing more to help. Should be getting more done. Should be riding my bike more. Have my financial house in order. Knitting more. Seeing more of my friends. And on and on and on.