I’ve been holding off on weighing myself, since the CDC didn’t release any guidance on when that would be safe again. Because I do not live under a rock, I’ve been pretty perturbed and occasionally depressed by an accumulation of events. I thought to myself, well, it can’t get any worse – may as well step on the scale!
I didn’t regain all of my weight from July! Only 70% of it, hah! I’ve never been so elated to have gained 15 pounds! Not gonna even front though – it’s been fun. I got permission to start introducing run intervals today from my PT, so hopefully the scale will start moving in the opposite direction shortly but I love some domesticated Lady J.
I’m cooking and baking tonight after my walk! Life is short!
One of my favorite things about joining the House of Adonis has been exploring Orthodoxy. I’ve enjoyed getting to know aspects of the Christian faith that aren’t typically emphasized in the Protestant tradition. Lol @ that oxymoron – Protestant tradition! I did that for you, Adonis. I had the most relaxing Christmas I have had in a long time, partly enabled by this devotional. I had never made the connection that the 12 days of Christmas are the time between Christmas and Epiphany. I guess for the past 32 years I’ve just been rocking out, figuring that the composer/lyricist thought that 12 was a good number to have. Heh. Anyway, it was an incredible relief to be reminded that Christmas is just the beginning of the celebration of Christ’s birth and not this incredible let down it has become in the world – party’s over, decorations down, family leaves. We’re doing it wrong, y’all.
I was planning on doing something else wrong until my epiphany. Four years ago, I realized that the pursuit of a healthy weight is ongoing, but here I am again for the FOURTH time, despite all I discovered. I had been envisioning reaching a healthy weight again but completely denying it to anyone who asked. “Hey Joan, are you losing weight?” “No, but thanks!” It would be an effort to deny the fact that I messed up in the first place. It is embarrassing to me that I am here again. I can’t seem to get it together permanently.
I had written that last time needed to be different than the other two times, and at first, I was mad because it seems like it wasn’t. After all, I gained weight in the same pattern – adjusting to a life transition. 1. College. 2. Grad School. 3. Full time work. Now 4. Marriage. The pattern may be the same but my wisdom is really different. I know I am not doing this because I hate how I look. I am doing this because I want my best life, and I can’t have my best life at an unhealthy weight. I have accepted that this may happen again, but each day I need to make good decisions for the body with which God has graced me.
So, to anyone who asks – that’s right. I’m human and and I’m sexy and strong and wonderful RIGHT. NOW. Here’s to the blood work to match, sooner rather than later!
Not gonna lie. “Gripping and intense” is how I feel waiting for my results. Gulp.
I understand that there are many ways to abuse food, whether it’s eating emotionally, mindlessly, or purely in excess. I must say, however, that I (most likely wrongly) feel that it must be easier for some people than others to resist poor food choices. I remember my umbrage 40 pounds ago when it was suggested that I must not like certain food in order to look the way I did at the time. Hell no! I do think it is possible that some people are not interested in exploring many different types of food, or their eating is not particularly culturally significant to them. That being said, a steak and potatoes lover has her fair share of temptation to resist as does this sweet potato pie/jerk chicken/spanakopita loving girl. My food temptation portfolio is diverse – and growing. That’s all I’m saying here.
What’s funny is that my taste for different foods didn’t really begin developing until my first round of weight loss, when I started cooking different things. My weight roller coaster has been one long food tour, and I’ve loved it. No tour would be complete without pictures, right? A cursory glance through my desktop or phone would produce highlights of the tour – food and me, naturally.
The pictures of food and the pictures of me share a lot. There are many types of food. There are also many types of Joan. Skinny, fat, toned, everywhere in between. You know what I am finally deciding every picture is? DELICIOUS. Dammit, the food is fabulous, and I am, too, regardless of my size. I am tired of putting off buying clothes for myself because I don’t deserve clothes at whatever size or I shouldn’t be a particular weight. Don’t get it twisted, y’all – I fully understand that I shouldn’t be trying to make my BMI match my age. That no longer means that I have to beat myself up at any given time for not being where is best for me. The best for me is healthy, from the inside out. And look at this ‘out’ –
New Year’s Eve with Adonis
Adonis is lucky as hell to come home to this. Okay, fine, I am fortunate as well, but this ain’t his blog. I am choosing to savor where I am at this very moment and simultaneously choosing to do better.
Remember when I was saying 2017 was gonna be about fitness and halves? Here’s the update as of the close of July:
Weight lost: -1.5 lbs
Half-marathons completed: 0.5
Pretty underwhelming, wouldn’t you say? Especially the pound of weight GAIN! Ugh. I get so tired of myself, to be frank. I suppose half of a half isn’t too bad, considering I have been running shorter distances, but as much as I enjoy the epic feeling of that distance, my brain and body are not allowing me to focus. I am not saying that as a cop-out, because Lord knows I hate that, but I am simply not there right now. Not only did I underestimate how long a 15k is, but I believe I did not take into account that I would want some time before really digging deep again after finishing my marathon in December. I always have a tough time with my health after life transitions. Who could have anticipated that it would be taxing to
Move in with my husband
Become a stepmom
Tell me WHO could have seen that coming?
I am at the point again where I need help and accountability to get fit again and it makes me so sad. Embarrassed. I should know better. I definitely didn’t spend my summer doing that and I could and should have. How many times can tomorrow be another day? Until there are no more tomorrows? It’s tiring. That being said, if I am to be obedient, I am to love myself, which means taking care of my body. THAT being said, it is difficult for me to be hopeful for the future. How can I get excited about going up when I’m just going to come down again?
Well. Another new year is upon us. And a whole heap of weight is upon me. Damn. I’m fat again.
Of course, I’m mad at myself for allowing such weight gain in the past two years of my life, despite continuing to race. I feel as though I have failed; as the losing all the weight that I did really means nothing because I haven’t been able to keep it off. Each time I log into MyFitnessPal – and am completely honest, re: weight – I feel like a loser (gainer?). Is anything really different this time? I thought it had been, because I’d finally learned that weight management is a process not an event. I thought that because I found an activity that I really enjoy that I would be able to maintain my weight loss within 5 to 10 pounds. It turns out that I am still not over my habit of using food as a way to cope with changes in my life. Marriage, stepchildren, moving. Two weddings (long story)! It was a lot of business. Plus, food still tastes GREAT. Nevertheless, I still need to do something about my current weight, because I am not as healthy as I could be.
I think I should be thankful that I am in a place where I recognize that my problem is not so much the fact that I’ve regained weight that I’ve lost but the fact that it was easy for me to do so because of how I deal with change in my life. I also think I have issues with my body image that allow for me to be indifferent as to how I look. It doesn’t seem to matter whether I weigh 150 or 200; I seem to always see a fat person in the mirror. It is much easier to follow a plan and make more good choices than bad than it is to really zero in on what it is that causes me to feel this way. That just might be a beast that I will have to fight for all of my life. I hope my goals for the year are not incongruent; I would like to run 4 Half marathons and lose 40 pounds. 10 pounds per race. Ha. I will be writing more in the coming week about why I have chosen those particular goals, as well as how I feel I performed in 2016 and meeting those goals.
Here’s to not completely screwing up 2017. Happy new year!
We all know it’s the same me. I just want to get her into my pants.
I don’t see the point in making sacrifices unless I’m going to be, like, totally HAWT.
It turns out that I’m not crazy for not liking what I’ve been seeing in the mirror. I tried to be kind to myself in my previous post regarding staying within a reasonable range of my weight loss, but the fact is I’m displeased. I weigh 15 pounds more than my lowest weight and I don’t like how I look OR feel. I finally donated all my big(ger) Joan clothes and the only reason I don’t regret it is because someone with much greater need is now using them. If you don’t believe that things are getting out of hand, look at what the girls did last week:
Yeah. Bras aren’t supposed to do that. In guess it was begging for dear life and the girls busted free. RIP dear titty holder-backer – by the way, you don’t really realize how much you rely on a bra until you pop out of one in the middle of your workday. But I digress.
I’ve not been eating out (except for that one time). I’ve been meeting my calorie goal set by Blonde Oprah the vast majority of the time. Coachie says I’m training well. What do I have to show for it since I started this year?
ONE. LOST. POUND.
Meanwhile, I feel like I have no life. I miss smaller races. I miss smaller Joan. I know, I know. “You weren’t training for the same distances last year!” I also was a lot happier with my progress. What’s the point of going a million miles in the water/on the bike/on my feet if I’m going to be a fatso finisher? It is hard to be proud of what I’m doing if I hate while I feel as I’m doing it and don’t feel good in my clothes the other 10 hours of the day that I’m not training.
I either need to reevaluate my goals for this year or just be happy that I won’t be spending any money on race photos.
I WONDER WHAT HAPPENS AT THE BEGINNING OF EVERY MONTH THAT THROWS MY BODY OFF.
I’ve…I’ve been a girl all my life, y’all. I’m a little ashamed that it’s taken me this me long to come to grips with the fact that my period is kind of a game changer. Not just in terms of how my body handles changes but how my brain handles those changes. Now, I need help figuring out what my body needs so that the changes don’t make me feel like my world is bloody collapsing in on me 25% of the time. That is an unacceptable drop in productivity.
I’ve lost 5 of the 10 pounds, by the way. I’m a crazy ass champ.
Yes. I do. Ten, in fact. Ten to be pleased with myself, five to exit panic mode.
“But Lady J,” you say. “You look great! Why are you obsessing about a number?”
You’re damn right. I’m fine as hell. And thank you, by the way. But this 10 that must be rid of came on in TWO. WEEKS. Yes, the past two weeks have involved carb loading for a race, an upper respiratory infection, and a sprained ankle, and I’m also winding down in what has been an insane school year. No matter.
But my clothes feel fine.
Don’t get it twisted. I feel pretty miserable. I could very easily attribute that to my maladies and lack of exercise. However, I haven’t been eating well and I knew that the scale would read a higher number than I like. But 10 pounds? I would have NEVER guessed my debauchery has been that bad.
There are some who advocate judging your current state by how you feel generally and how your clothes feel. I’m betting I would have had to gain another 5 pounds before my clothes started to feel different. 10 is bad enough, but 15? No thanks.
Many proponents of not looking at the scale also are of the thinking that you should not beat yourself up. To them I say, “What if you’re full of shit?” I know that I’ve been falling short of what is best for my body. I don’t deserve hugs and kisses for gaining 10 pounds. I need to tighten the F up and deal with it. I know better and did not choose to do better. Am I going to berate myself for two weeks of bad decisions? Probably. But so help me God, those 10 will be off by the end of the month. Sanity and self-love be damned.