Tag Archives: journal

New Blog Post – “Just like riding a bike”

I’ve been thinking about this blog a lot, and what it means to be a blogger. I decided early on that this wasn’t going to be a place for recipes or before and after photos, I thought this would keep me accountable. I assumed that with an audience present, I would stay focused on fat loss because I wouldn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of failure (which as we know is what happens with most diets). But as it turns out, I don’t need this blog to remain accountable. This task hasn’t kept me honest or prevented me from eating donuts. I EAT donuts, but I’ve also lost over 60 pounds since I joined Weight Watchers last December. I’ve done the work, with plenty of difficult, frustrating, and down right bad weeks, but I’ve done the work. So if the blog isn’t about accountability, what is it for?

I do not intend to post reviews of consumer products or other weight loss trends/fads. I’m not a doctor and can’t provide actual health recommendations. I’m just a story teller who can occasionally craft a meaningful (possibly heartfelt) narrative. I can rant and rave and share my point of view. I can yell down a well. So the truth is this blog may only be self-gratifying, a glorified journal of sorts. But it has been an important part of my journey. I’ve written and shared things that I needed to say out loud. I don’t know the responsibility of the blogger and I know there are a bazillion weight loss blogs, possibly of greater substance, but I like it here. So on with the show.

I feel compelled to share a few fears that have come to the forefront of my thoughts recently. The first is that I am afraid to ride a bike. I know HOW to ride, I’m just afraid to ride again. I learned to ride a bike when I was 7 or 8. I remember my parents got me a blue BMX for Christmas and the training wheels came off that same day as I obsessively tried again and again to hold myself upright on the bike. I most certainly lost hours of my childhood to dirt bike adventures and earned my share of scraped knees and punishments for unauthorized ventures beyond my two block riding radius. But now I think I’m just too fat and I won’t have the core strength to maintain my balance. I’m afraid to fall. I’m afraid to try. So what do you do when riding a bike isn’t “just like riding a bike”? What if I fail?

Number two fear – and this one may actually just be ridiculous – running. I am afraid to run. Again, I feel to heavy. Like what if I crush my little leg bones because of all this weight? What if my lungs burst from the burn of exertion? Or what if my heart rate just gets to high and I collapse? My rational self knows these are petty fears. I won’t crush my legs, hell they’ve been carrying me around for a long while now and didn’t cry mercy 60lbs ago, I think they are in it for the long haul. And here’s a really neat trick, if my lungs or heart or ankle or head hurts too much, I can STOP. I can go back to walking, or catch my breath, or text my mom 911.

So I’m actively trying to alleviate this fear. I have started Couch to 5k, and I’m still much closer to the couch than running a 5k, but I’m jogging is spurts and I’m not dead yet. So about this bike riding, I’m trying to imagine the worst that could reasonably happen. Say I fall from the oh so steep height of my bike (and yes I do actually own a bike), that’s only a mere 5 feet 4 inches (my wee little height). I won’t even humor the thought of auto accidents because well that wouldn’t be #winning.

So like when I was 7, what if I just committed to the task until I mastered it and then the figurative training wheels could come off. I think back to starting this blog because I thought I would fail without it, but turned out I didn’t need it for that. And for every bad day or week I’ve had trying to lose weight, I haven’t given in to the fear that I couldn’t ultimately get it done. So I’m prob not gonna drag my bike down a flight of stairs and hop on tonight, but hey I might. But certainly, very soon. The beauty in the revelation of these fears is that I have a desire to conquer them.

Thanks for reading.

I borrowed this from the mode knit blog (http://modeknit.com/2011/09/)

I borrowed this from the mode knit blog (http://modeknit.com/2011/09/)

The Writing Diet

I can’t believe it has been three months since I have posted. That is absurd. I suppose that is what happens with some dieters, we lose our motivation, or life kicks in gear and focusing on the weight loss isn’t the number one priority. Well I am happy to report, that I am still going strong on my weight loss journey. Down a total of 53.8 pounds after 36 weeks on weight watchers. I am still writing down everything I eat. I am still cursing donuts, french fries, pizza, and ice cream (especially in the form of the oh so innocent milkshake). I’m still wearing two activity monitors all day everyday. But I’m not blogging as intended because honestly I thought I could lose the weight faster. I thought I would be immune to life hacks. I thought I was the rock star of weight loss. In the beginning I set all these arbitrary goals: lose x by this opening night, then x by summer, then another x by this friend’s wedding. And none of them happened.

When I couldn’t meet those little goals I had set for myself, the shame set in. Never mind that I have had 29 losses, because all 36 should have been losses. Never mind that my average weekly loss is 1.5lbs, because I should be miraculously losing 5lbs every week. I stopped blogging because I wanted to show off, and all I had to show was a real life up and down ordinary weight loss struggle-tale.

Struggle-tale, not fairy-tale. No I just ate less and exercised more and viola I am now super skinny and everyone adores me, but a this is the body I live in today and it’s kinda cool because it carried me from 298.2 to 244.4 and fits in a large t-shirt now and my thighs still kiss but I kinda think thighs are meant to kiss and hey there is some extra strap left over on this seat belt on the plane now and wait I think I actually feel full and who the heck knew kale tasted so good or this roasted red pepper humus dip type stuff that you couldn’t have paid me to taste just 38 weeks ago is like magic happening in my mouth kinda tale. An all this while living, working, parenting in three states and two time zones story. A writing, directing, teaching, loving, laughing, crying, starting new, saying good bye to old, losing and longing story. It is not about miracles, it is about possibles. And it is all mine to tell. Sorry to have kept you waiting. More sorry to have kept myself hiding.

So I am still working on a new body, just probably not by tomorrow. Not in time for your wedding or a cousin’s graduation. Not in time for our weekend get-away, or probably even when the next bikini season rolls around. But I’ll get there. In the time it takes.

I’ve started Julia Cameron’s “Morning Pages” again (many people know these pages are the key component to Cameron’s The Artist Way program for creative recovery, I am following her similar program called The Writing Diet), so I am writing everyday friends, and I plan to share here more often.

Thanks for reading.

A primaveral blog post

The most unexpected thing happened…

After two weeks of unimpressive numbers, PMS, then the MS itself. I just sorta woke up and the funk was gone. Not only was the funk gone, but when I looked in the mirror I was in love with the person looking back at me. I was impressed by her tenacity. I thought her eyebrows had a nice arch. I found her giving and forgiving. I thought damn she has great hair and remarkably clear skin. I didn’t think she was flawless or perfect, but I knew her to be witty and passionate and with a capacity for love that even she underestimates.

It just happened that I woke up and had forgiven myself for the bad choices of yesterday. I wore a skirt without leggings or spanx for the first time in at least 5 years. I tried nobly to flirt with a boy or two. I ordered a malibu & pineapple juice at the bar and calmly tracked the points.

I just woke up and didn’t know how I got from where I was yesterday to this new place, but I’m not gonna ask to many questions. And maybe this euphoria is fleeting, but I haven’t felt this good about myself quite possibly ever, but certainly not as an adult.

I also have written 3 new pieces (I’m a poet/storyteller remember), and shared an older piece with people I barely know.

I’m the vortex.

And as we all know, “after winter must come spring”

Answering the call…a hero’s journey

I took a little time thinking about what I wanted my first post of the new year to be. Did I want to rattle off resolutions that by March will only serve to make me think of myself as a failure? Or did I want to be the anti-resolutionist, and avoid being specific in my goal setting so I can let myself off the hook for bad behavior?

Truth is, I am resolved. Resolved to change my life, for the better, one day at a time. To achieve this, I DO have specific goals. The first goal is to love myself more. My next goal is to share my courage and laughter. I have an abundance of each. After that, I want to radiate positivity and surround myself with positive people. I want to grow toward the light. Be the light. Be in the light. I want to LOVE.

Do I want to lose weight. HELL to the YES! But I have lost weight only to find more as I back-stepped out of change and into the me I knew and recognized and loathed. This will only work if I embrace the new me. The new me can go out to a restaurant and be social and make new friends and not eat if she’s not hungry. I did that today. The self I am becoming, she can eat chicken wings and pizza in moderation, and not stuff her face as if she’ll never she food again in this lifetime. I did that today. I don’t know her, this person I am becoming, but she seems like a pretty cool chick: smart, and funny, and talented, and compassionate. I don’t know her, but I choose to love her anyway.

So in the new year I plan to make new choices, try new things, be braver, and count it all a blessing. The measure of success is simply a blog post here in about 365 days. In short, my resolution is to show up, and meet myself on the journey.

This is me answering the call.

Thank you for reading.

Broken Records…

So I grew up in a house but as I graduated college, my mother downsized and became an apartment dweller. When this happened, years of my life were moved to a storage facility. Today I was in storage, consolidating, sorting, moving things around, etc and discovered several old journals.

In more than one of these journals I saw countless entries about starting a new diet, losing weight, getting fit and so on and so on. I immediately felt discouraged because I thought damn woman you are just a never ending broken record. How many diets have I started to only end up heavier than before? How many fitness vows? Journals full of my weight loss struggle left me feeling a lot of shame and for a short while I started down the path of “what am I doing? this is only going to end like last time, I’m a failure.”

But then I thought about what I had really written in those journals, and more importantly, what isn’t written in those journals. So many of those entries are about losing weight for a show, to get into grad school, to take a trip, impress a boy/man, prove to someone else that I am good enough. No where in those journals do I admit to an improper relationship with food, I never use the word addiction, I don’t talk about health or surviving. All of my previous attempts have been connected to an external short term goal. So once the event happened or passed, or I was dumped, the drive or *need* to lose weight went with it.

So now I am interested in breaking new records: getting to my goal weight, being the lowest weight I have been as an adult, improving my cardiovascular health, staying on the elliptical for more than 20 minutes, running for like more than 5 minutes. I don’t want to come back to this blog in a year or two only to find I have given up on my goals. I want to finish what I start. FOR ME. Not for a man or a wedding or Jamaica or a big deal something or other I’m going to attend. Will being healthy and feeling good at those things, in those places, or on a date feel good? Heck yes. But those are rewards and not the goal.

So that’s part of why I am here instead of on the pages of a journal that only I will see. You will know if I stop writing, you will know if I fall of the wagon, go off program, cave to the self-loathing that haunts me. I know you don’t know me, most of you don’t know my name. I don’t intend to post photos. But even if you’re not there, I pretend you are because it makes me accountable. Because this time I cannot fail.

Thank you for reading.

PS After writing this blog, I got word that a dear friend’s mother had a stroke. She had a brain hemorrhage due to high blood pressure. My friend’s mother is stable now, but this news was frightening. In 2001 I developed PIH (pregnancy induced hypertension), I never had high blood pressure before I was pregnant, but I haven’t been rid of it since. So you see, this time I cannot fail.