The Diet Naked Blog

Exercise update

I started the Couch to 5K program yesterday. I feel how I imagine an 87 year old feels, all rickety and sore and achey.

However, I know I will feel better soon and tonight I am going to ride my exercise bike--I plan to do that on days I don't run.

Also? I did ten pushups and so my upper body hurts today.

I'm a wreck but young enough to do something about that.

And now? Time to sweat.

Exercise! And thinking, maybe too much.

I exercised twice this week.  I rode my long-neglected Schwinn exercise bike.  I used to ride it for 45 minutes a day, then I lessened that to 30 minutes a day.  I compromised and decided on 38 minutes. 

Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I expected it to be.  I like to read while I ride, so it's practically fun. 

I want to do a Couch-to-5K training thing I downloaded to my iPhone, but I am like a cat.  I hate to get my fur wet.  I just can't convince myself to leave my warm home in the morning to go into super-wet-windy-rainy-awful weather. 

I know.  I know.  There is no bad weather, only bad clothing.  Still.  I don't want to go outside, but I cannot use that as a reason not to exercise because I feel terrible.  I look terrible, but more importantly, I feel terrible.

I am almost 45 years old and I am insulin resistant.  I am in danger.  I know I am in danger.  I need to be healthy.

I wonder if the scale is making things worse.  When I get good news, I'm apt to eat in celebration.  When I get bad news, I'm likely to binge.

Maybe I should read Geneen Roth again.  Eat for satisfaction and move my body.  That sounds simple, right?

There are a whole string of things that I have artificially hooked to weight loss.  I must lose weight so I can go to that writer's conference.  I need to lose weight before I see old friends.  I need to lose weight before I join the gym.  (Yeah, figure out that one!)  I'm sequential to a fault.  I must do this, this, this and this, in THIS order or I may as well just crawl under the covers and sleep until spring.

It's ridiculous.  I know. 

But there you go.  Musings on a Saturday night. 

I'm so frustrated

So frustrated that I ate cookies.  I ate so perfectly all week:  cauliflower and steamed fish, egg whites and zucchini, reduced-fat Triscuits and hummus . . . and most importantly, no sugar, no refined flour, NO COOKIES.  I didn't eat french fries, I didn't eat cake, I didn't eat potato chips. 

I weighed myself today and discovered that I had lost a negligible amount of weight.  Maybe I was fatter last week than I thought (I didn't weigh) and that might be, but my current weight just makes me want to scream.  And so, I ate cookies.

Clearly, that's a stupid response.  And I won't do it again.  This week, anyway.

But enough about me.  How about you?  How are you doing?  Tell me.  Take my mind off my own misery.

Complaining again

You know what makes me mad? 

I can gain five pounds in two days.

But that's not what makes me mad.  What makes me mad is that since Monday I have been eating carefully--salads with protein at lunch, dinners full of vegetables and lean protein, apples instead of cookies--and when I stepped on the scale today, I was still fat.

I don't know what the scale said on Monday.  I was too afraid to know.  But still, I think when I got the scale today, it should have been a lower number than it was.  And when it was higher than I expected, it made me feel so discouraged, so hopeless, so ANNOYED.

Despite that, I ate right today anyway.

If I weren't afraid of getting fatter and fatter and fatter, I'd give up the scale entirely because it's such a bummer.  But I need the feedback the scale gives me.  It's a reality check for me because I can convince myself that I'm not as fat as I am.  (Even the mirror lies to me.)

I hate the scale.  I hate being fat.  I hate the slow results.

Signed,

The Pessimist

Fat is not cute

Well, that's not entirely true.  Fat is cute when we're talking about the pudgy thighs of a baby or the pinchable cheeks of a toddler.  But when you look down where your abdomen belongs and find instead a roly-poly squishy belly, it's really, really not cute.  Not.  Cute.

So, instead of lamenting the truth of that fact, I have stopped eating cookies.  Again.  Cookies are like poison to me and yet, I keep scarfing them down.  It's amazing that I can disable my self-control so completely that I do the very thing that I know for a fact will make me fat.  What is wrong with this picture?  And can I fix it? 

I still haven't started to exercise but I did order a new sports bra and I did investigate a gym (that turns out to be right here in my town).  The gym is a "Crossfit" gym which means that I might have to get in shape before I join because the work-outs are hard, from what I'm told.  However, (and this is Mel's logical, reasonable brain speaking), the gym is a good idea for several reasons:  1)  It's literally five minutes from my house; 2) The classes are at 10 a.m., a perfect time for me; and 3) I really need to build muscle mass.

I have also downloaded to my iPhone a "Couch to 5K" app.  Did I already mention that?  It's so awesome, yet I have not done the first work-out.  But I will!  I will!  Because I want to use that app.  I am just that addicted to my iPhone.  (And also cookies, but get away from me, Cookies!  We cannot be friends!)

Dear Oprah . . .

Dear Oprah, 

Thank you for staying fat.  I'm sure you aren't doing it just for me, but it does make me feel better to know that you haven't been able to get the weight off--again--and that even all your media power and bajillion dollars does not mean easy fitness and slim health.

Love,

Mel who keeps making stupid choices

(I also deeply appreciate Kirstie Alley, Maureen McCormick, and the "Biggest Loser" Erik Chopin) 

* * *

In other news, did you see this CNN article about Roni, from Roni's Weigh?  (She lost 71 pounds.) 

The good, the bad and the baked goods

It's not that I intend to be silent here.  It's just that once Monday comes, my week collapses like a mudslide, covering houses, cars and small children.  I've been putting in extra time on my job, finally shutting off my computer at 1:30 a.m. or later . . . then waking up hours later to take my daughter to school.  Then I take a nap and start my day all over again.  I think I'll blog before work, but don't give myself enough time.  Then I think maybe after work but then suddenly it's 1:30 a.m., too late for anything but bed.

It's only 12:40 a.m. right now, so I thought I'd post here quickly.

I had a GREAT week last week.  I lost five pounds.  Then I baked cookies and ate some.  That was a couple of days ago.  And then I baked brownies.  And ate some.  And then I ate more cookies.

What is wrong with this picture?

(I know.  Stop baking, Mel.  What in the world is wrong with your brain?)

Okay, well, I'm confessing that to you because typing those words will help me be accountable for the rest of the week.  Even Halloween!  I am not eating Halloween candy this year.  I just will not.

In fact, I bought a gigantic bag of Costco Halloween candy.  I gave it to my husband after I bought it and told him to hide it from me.  He laughed as if I am a lunatic (I am a lunatic) and then hid it.  I could probably find it if I tried hard enough but I'm not going to even look.  Just having it out of my sight helps.  Knowing that he knows that I have so little self-control that I need him to hide it will keep me from sneaking into it. 

I hate to treat myself like a weakling, but I am a weakling.  A weakling who should stop baking.  FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SUGARY.

Anyway.  Also?  I haven't started exercising yet.  I downloaded this really cool Couch to 5K app on my iPhone.  I am seriously in love with this app, but I haven't used it yet.  Monday it was too rainy.  Tuesday I was too tired (stayed up until nearly 2 a.m.).  Today I was tired (up until past 1:30 a.m.).  Tomorrow I'm not going to do it because I don't want to and also because I have some Halloween-related errands I have to run before I start work at noon.

But I am going to start.  Next week?  Maybe.  Maybe next week.  In the meantime, I'm going to eat right.  Stop this avalanche right here, right now before I'm buried.  No need to wait until Monday.  Tomorrow, I start over.

How are you doing? 

On having faith

Fear not, this is not religious. 

When I say "faith" I mean faith as in "complete confidence in a person or plan".  (I looked up that definition because I am fancy like that.)

I am almost a week into my renewed resolve to avoid sugar and white flour and to stop eating like today might be my last day on earth.  I am down five pounds . . . or three pounds. . . or four pounds, depending on the time of day and the amount of sleep I've had.  And I know that I could easily bounce right back up to 220 (!) in one day of reckless eating.   (Yes, I just mentioned my actual weight in numbers . . . well, my starting weight this time around.  Be horrified.  I am.)

To keep reckless eating at bay, I have to have faith that this will work again.  Right now, I cannot imagine zipping up the jeans buried in my closet.  I can't imagine success.  My vision is blocked by fear that what worked once will never work again and that I am doomed to be a fat housewife forever.

So, I am acting in faith that the formula I have chosen will work.  Avoiding sugar and white flour will keep my blood sugar steady.  Adding exercise (next week!) will help me feel better and will rev up my metabolism.  And sooner or later, the lost pounds will add up and I will zip up the pants that mock me now.

Faith. 

I cannot find it at the bottom of a potato chip bag. 

I will believe with my head until my heart catches up.  This will work.  This must work.  It will. 

*Fingers crossed*

I deserve a Certificate of Achievement

I made homemade brownies topped with chocolate chips.

And I did not eat one.  Not a single one. 

I rock.

Shockingly, I am eating right!

I am still on track! I had a successful Day Two.

Right now though, I'm going to take a morning nap. I was up until 2:00 a.m. (I have more job responsibilities and keep accidentally working late.)

Maybe more blogging later. I always think I can do more in a day than is actually possible. Do you do that, too?