Archive of ‘Banishing the baby belly’ category

Going A Little Bit Vegan.

I hate dieting.

I hate counting calories. I hate logging food. I hate performing complicated mathematical formulas in my head to figure out how many points something’s going to cost me.

The minute I start dieting, I start obsessing about food. I’m always thinking about what I ate last, what I’m going to eat next, and how stinking hungry I am.

Without fail, I manage to screw up within the first couple of weeks. And as soon as I screw up, I think, “meh, today’s ruined. Might as well start over tomorrow. Pass the ice cream!”

Except tomorrow becomes next week. Then next month. Then sometime before my next birthday…

Yeah.

I hate dieting.

But I knew something had to change. I was sick of feeling bloated, and tired, and just, well, gross.

So I started looking for the “perfect” diet. I was, in fact, pretty seriously investigating The Whole 30 plan, but wasn’t thrilled with the amount of meat and animal stuff it seemed to call for (too much animal goo is bad news bears for my digestive system).

Then I stumbled across the Eat to Live diet.

It got my attention because it promised I could lose up to 20 pounds in six weeks. Sweet, right?

There was only one catch: I’d have to almost entirely give up any and all animal-based products. Good bye cheese. Good bye yogurt parfaits. Good bye cheeseburgers.

If I hadn’t been feeling so darn crappy, that would have been a deal breaker.

But I was, so I decided to keep reading. And you guys? What he had to say both scared the pants off me and had me nodding my head.

He cites a lot of research about the bad, bad things our current diet is doing to us. How it raises triglycerides, steals vitamins from our systems, and makes us all, well, fat.

It made too much damn sense.

So I reluctantly decided to try it. I started on Monday and by this morning had already lost three and a half pounds (and yes, I know that’s most likely water weight. But I’ve never been able to lose weight that fast. Ever).

But you know what’s more amazing? I’m starting to feel better. Lighter. My stomach is less disgruntled. I don’t feel so bloated. I feel…good.

Or at least I did until I blew it and ate a kid’s-size ice cream cone this evening. The minute it hit my stomach I started to feel gross. If I could have reached in there and dug it out, I would have.

So I’m getting right back on the wagon.

Tomorrow I’ll have another ginormous green smoothie for breakfast, an even more gargantuan salad for lunch, and some sort of veggie thing for dinner. Probably featuring beans and stuff. Whatever it is, it will be tasty – and I won’t have to count a single calorie.

That’s the kind of diet I can handle.

Will this last? I don’t know. I’m taking this one day at a time.

But I predict it will last longer than the myriad of point-counting, stomach-growling torture methods I’ve been trying. It already has.

Hopefully long enough for me to get healthy…but not so long that my eyeballs turn orange.

I don’t think that would be a good look for me.

 

 

In Weight Loss, Good Enough Sometimes Is.

Yesterday morning, I got on the scale for the first weigh-in of the “Let’s Get Physical” weight loss challenge I’m participating in.

I was worried. I hadn’t been perfect, by any means.

There was the steak at Outback on Saturday. The one that was worth double the points I thought it was.

And the pumpkin muffin, bought while on a sugar low.

And more than one glass of wine.

But still I managed to lose more than two pounds!

Me on Day One of the Challenge/

I’ve been here before, of course.

I get all excited for a week or two, and the pounds start dropping off. But then I get lazy. And sloppy. I sneak in a couple extra bites of cake. Forget to track a glass of wine or two. And, most damning of all, get “too busy” to move my body and sweat a little.

Then the weight loss stops and I get discouraged. I decide that perhaps I’m just meant to be heavy. That being skinny isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, anyway.

Soon, the desserts make a comeback.

The treadmill gets dusty.

And my stomach stays flabby.

I hope this time will be different. I feel that it could be. I think I could be back to my “healthy” weight by Christmas.

I’d sure like to wear a size in the single digits again.

I want to be a good role model for my daughter. I want to show her that eating right and exercising regularly are, well, just things that we should do to take care of our bodies.

So I’ve got to keep the momentum going.

I’ve got to feed my inner stress eater with fruit, not cookies.

I’ve got to start my day with exercise, not five rounds of the snooze alarm.

I’ve got to keep on keeping on.

Wish me luck.

 

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Conquering My Inner Stress Eater.

“Man, I’d kill for a muffin right now.”

“You don’t need a muffin. You just had pumpkin bread for breakfast.”

“I know, but a muffin sure would taste good!”

A Starbucks Coffee muffin

“No. No muffin.”

“Fine,” she answers, walking away in a huff.

I go back to writing, typing as fast as my fingers can fly.

“How ‘bout some Starbucks? A raspberry latte only has 5 points.”

“How much caffeine do you need? You already had two big mugs of coffee this morning!”

“You are no fun,” she pouts. Then she starts picking at her finger nails. Soon she is entranced.

I try to return my focus to my computer. But instead, I start to think about everything I have to do. And how many meetings I have to attend this week. How on earth am I going to get it all done?

Panic sets in. There’s no possible way. Unless I don’t sleep. But of course I have to sleep.

I take a deep breath and decide to focus on one project, one page, and one word at a time. I can do this. I will do this. It always gets done.

But still, my heart beats a little faster than it should.

She comes to stand over my shoulder.

“You know what would settle you down? A chocolate milkshake. You should go downstairs and get a shake at lunch.”

“I don’t need a milkshake, damn it. I need to lose 30 pounds!”

“Ahh, well, what’s one more milkshake going to hurt? Those 30 pounds will still be there tomorrow.”

“Just. Shut. Up. I’m trying to concentrate over here.”

“Okay, just trying to help. You know chocolate always calms you down.”

“Stop. Helping.”

And that, my friends, is my life.

I am a stress eater. And I am almost always stressed.

Every damn day is a battle between me and my psyche.

Sometimes I win. Sometimes I lose. But the war? Is never over.

That’s why I’m joining in the “Let’s Get Physical” weight loss challenge at my friend Wendy’s place.

It starts September 4. Runs for eight weeks. And people? It’s a competition.

You know how I hate to lose.

So I’m going to win. By losing. Losing big.

Wish me luck.

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