Weight this morning: 196. I don't think I regained 2 pounds that I'd actually lost - I'm sure it's all just water up, water down. My goal for the next four days: come back weighing no more than when I left. Exercise every day (including today); don't drink too much, don't stuff myself silly.
I'm going to run today for the first time in a week. I have a new pain, down the side of the same leg that's been bothering me, a few inches above the knee. I'm going to take it real easy and see how it feels.
Meanwhile,e on the advice of a wise friend, I've been investigating possible hormonal imbalances contributing to mood swings - I've invested in some black cohosh herb, some soy products and seaweed to balance the soy. I'm cutting back on alcohol (one small glass every other day instead of 1-2 large glasses every day!) and on caffeine. I'll give it a month and see if it affects any of these problems and if it doesn't, take it the next step beyond random self-treatment and go see...someone. Not sure who yet.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Plowing ahead
Weight this morning: 194.8. While it looks like I've lost 3 pounds this week, it occurs to me that at least some of it is hair - I had a major chop this week. I'd been working a long-n-glamorous look for a while, mostly out of laziness. When I took the time to blowdry it all the way, it looked GREAT but the rest of the time it was a bit too shaggy/messy for me, not in a sexy bedhead way, but in a "this girl is in a slump and not taking care of herself" way. So I found this picture and brought it to a new stylist whose work I've admired:
She looked at the picture, at my hair and my face, heard me say "I don't want to spend more than 5 minutes in the morning," and told me, "no, not doing that." Though I was disappointed, I trusted her completely - she seemed to be paying such close attention to what would be JUST RIGHT for me.
The end of the story is probably obvious: I HATE it. It's not long nor short, it has no particular shape (other than vaguely bell-like) and it makes me feel like an 8th grader. Not in a good way. (Is there a good way to feel like an 8th-grader?) I'll give it a week more, to try to learn how to do it right, and then, I guess, go back and ask her to fix it. (I've NEVER done that before, but I really hate it.)
However, it does dry much faster, which I tested out this afternoon after my first time swimming with the other Master's Swimming Coach. I liked him much better than the guy who does the Thursday night session - his advice is much more in tune with TI, and is better for triathletes and distance swimmers as opposed to the high-school sprinter approach the other guy has. I'm going to try to switch my session, at least every other week.
However my panic problem has returned - I could barely venture into the deep end today. (The lanes went from 4 feet to 7 feet, with only the last 10 or 15 feet of lane over my head.) I think it's in part because of something GeekGrl posted, about a woman who basically drowned doing an IM a few weeks ago. After I read that, I found a few more stories of people who died doing tri swims, or who started suffering from swim-induced pulmonary edema. I am SUCH an idiot for looking this up - completely morbid, and being so susceptible to anxiety, it was really stupid.
I think the only option for me now is hypnosis, and I'm seriously considering it.
She looked at the picture, at my hair and my face, heard me say "I don't want to spend more than 5 minutes in the morning," and told me, "no, not doing that." Though I was disappointed, I trusted her completely - she seemed to be paying such close attention to what would be JUST RIGHT for me.
The end of the story is probably obvious: I HATE it. It's not long nor short, it has no particular shape (other than vaguely bell-like) and it makes me feel like an 8th grader. Not in a good way. (Is there a good way to feel like an 8th-grader?) I'll give it a week more, to try to learn how to do it right, and then, I guess, go back and ask her to fix it. (I've NEVER done that before, but I really hate it.)
However, it does dry much faster, which I tested out this afternoon after my first time swimming with the other Master's Swimming Coach. I liked him much better than the guy who does the Thursday night session - his advice is much more in tune with TI, and is better for triathletes and distance swimmers as opposed to the high-school sprinter approach the other guy has. I'm going to try to switch my session, at least every other week.
However my panic problem has returned - I could barely venture into the deep end today. (The lanes went from 4 feet to 7 feet, with only the last 10 or 15 feet of lane over my head.) I think it's in part because of something GeekGrl posted, about a woman who basically drowned doing an IM a few weeks ago. After I read that, I found a few more stories of people who died doing tri swims, or who started suffering from swim-induced pulmonary edema. I am SUCH an idiot for looking this up - completely morbid, and being so susceptible to anxiety, it was really stupid.
I think the only option for me now is hypnosis, and I'm seriously considering it.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
How not to lose weight
Alternate title: how not to indulge a chocolate craving.
Or: How not to make fudge.
Take your pick.
But first: weight this morning, 195.something. Size - still one up from where I was - I dug into the retired pants pile since everything I have is dirty and found to my dismay that the pair I found, discarded 2 months ago for being too big, is now snug.
Meanwhile, last night after dinner I had a "MUST HAVE CHOCOLATE" moment. Digging through the cupboards I found most of a bar of unsweetened ghirardelli. We were out of almost everything one might put in a chocolate confection including eggs and flour, but amazingly, the wrapper had a recipe for fudge that involved only: the unsweetened chocolate, some semi-sweet chocolate chips (which, I'd forgotten, we had some of), some sweetened condensed milk, which I usually keep on hand for the occasional pumpkin pie, and vanilla. Turned out we only had unsweetened evaporated skim milk, and it further turned out, when I opened it and found a weird yellow liquid with shredded looking milky bits, that evaporated milk has an expiration date that, in this case, was more than 2 years ago. But it smelled OK, so I proceeded. (Being a truly pathetic creature.) We were also short on the chocolate chips, so I added more unsweeted baking chocolate, plus sugar.
Can you tell this is not going to end well?
I melted all in a double-boiler, added the vanilla, and it tasted OK. Next step was to pour it into a pan and let it set in the refrigerator for 2 hours. I poured, and left - went to a movie (no snacks there, good on me.) Came home, found the chocolate had congealed into something resembling nothing so muich as sewage sludge on top, with a thin liquidy layer on the bottom.
Naturally, I ate some.
It looks just as disgusting today, and I've been picking at it all morning and into the afternoon. WHY? WHY don't I just pitch it? Why don't I look at the chocolate mess, and look at my too-small, formerly too big pants, and say, STOP. THE. INSANITY.
I guess I can try LPTEBA's suggestion and post the weight I want to attain next - say, 193, on little post-its all over the house. If my kids ask about them I can tell them they're for math practice and give them some subtraction problems.
By the way, I did hav ea great workout today - a one-hour Pilates class plus 45 minutes on the elliptical, on the "fat-burn" setting. It's weird - to lose fat you're supposed to work out at a lower heart rate. I'm so used to working in the 130-150 range, and the machine kept silently yelling at me to slow down to 119. The good thing was that by doing so, I could indeed continue for the whole 45 minutes. I iced my hamstring by sitting on a pack of frozen hamburger meat (well-wrapped - it's going to be a pot of chili tonight) and rested too - trying to nap while listening to my kids and their playdate play school. It's so cute to hear 8-year olds give each other (and the little sister) instruction about US geography.
Oh, and here's some more consolation: apparently women with small waists and big asses are smarter, and pass their brains down to their kids. Something to do with Omega-3-fatty acids - we naturally have more of them. So instead of bemoaning the fact that pants never fit the 14-inch difference between my waist and my hips, I should be glad!
Or: How not to make fudge.
Take your pick.
But first: weight this morning, 195.something. Size - still one up from where I was - I dug into the retired pants pile since everything I have is dirty and found to my dismay that the pair I found, discarded 2 months ago for being too big, is now snug.
Meanwhile, last night after dinner I had a "MUST HAVE CHOCOLATE" moment. Digging through the cupboards I found most of a bar of unsweetened ghirardelli. We were out of almost everything one might put in a chocolate confection including eggs and flour, but amazingly, the wrapper had a recipe for fudge that involved only: the unsweetened chocolate, some semi-sweet chocolate chips (which, I'd forgotten, we had some of), some sweetened condensed milk, which I usually keep on hand for the occasional pumpkin pie, and vanilla. Turned out we only had unsweetened evaporated skim milk, and it further turned out, when I opened it and found a weird yellow liquid with shredded looking milky bits, that evaporated milk has an expiration date that, in this case, was more than 2 years ago. But it smelled OK, so I proceeded. (Being a truly pathetic creature.) We were also short on the chocolate chips, so I added more unsweeted baking chocolate, plus sugar.
Can you tell this is not going to end well?
I melted all in a double-boiler, added the vanilla, and it tasted OK. Next step was to pour it into a pan and let it set in the refrigerator for 2 hours. I poured, and left - went to a movie (no snacks there, good on me.) Came home, found the chocolate had congealed into something resembling nothing so muich as sewage sludge on top, with a thin liquidy layer on the bottom.
Naturally, I ate some.
It looks just as disgusting today, and I've been picking at it all morning and into the afternoon. WHY? WHY don't I just pitch it? Why don't I look at the chocolate mess, and look at my too-small, formerly too big pants, and say, STOP. THE. INSANITY.
I guess I can try LPTEBA's suggestion and post the weight I want to attain next - say, 193, on little post-its all over the house. If my kids ask about them I can tell them they're for math practice and give them some subtraction problems.
By the way, I did hav ea great workout today - a one-hour Pilates class plus 45 minutes on the elliptical, on the "fat-burn" setting. It's weird - to lose fat you're supposed to work out at a lower heart rate. I'm so used to working in the 130-150 range, and the machine kept silently yelling at me to slow down to 119. The good thing was that by doing so, I could indeed continue for the whole 45 minutes. I iced my hamstring by sitting on a pack of frozen hamburger meat (well-wrapped - it's going to be a pot of chili tonight) and rested too - trying to nap while listening to my kids and their playdate play school. It's so cute to hear 8-year olds give each other (and the little sister) instruction about US geography.
Oh, and here's some more consolation: apparently women with small waists and big asses are smarter, and pass their brains down to their kids. Something to do with Omega-3-fatty acids - we naturally have more of them. So instead of bemoaning the fact that pants never fit the 14-inch difference between my waist and my hips, I should be glad!
Friday, November 16, 2007
Accountability
Several of my blog-world friends are using this forum to hold themselves accountable for their choices and actions. So, in that spirit and with the intent of getting a grip and refocusing on my goals:
My weight this morning was 197.
That's 8, count-em, 8 pounds up from six weeks ago. I blame Halloween, cold weather, being overtired, and my own inability to stop shoving food in my mouth. (and my injury, but I could be doing plenty of exercise if I chose to make the time.)
My clothes are tight, my thighs rub together, I feel physically yucky. It's not that I haven't been exercising - I am averaging 3-4 times a week of a decent aerobic workout of one type or another, plus 2ish light core/weight trainings. But I've been eating double or triple what I should with absolutely no self-control. So - with Thanksgiving and the holidays coming, and everyone having cookies and crap around, I am determined to get ahold of myself and hit January 1 weighing less than I do now. Can get back to 190 by then? I don't know. But I should be able to lose a pound a week, right?
I am 43 years old. Why do I still undermine myself at every turn? Why do I say out loud thatI want to control my eating, but at the very same time, think, "oh, there will be chocolate at the hair salon, great!" I heard a commercial on the radio this morning for a hypnotist that used that very idea, saying, "stop being your own worst enemy and become your own best friend."
My daughter wants a turn on the computer but I am definitely coming back to this theme, hopefully in a more coherent way. Meanwhile, I went to sleep at 8:30 pm last night instead of swimming; did nothing today. Wednesday I did 30 minutes on the elliptical and 25 minutes of weights; Tuesday I did spinning but it hurt my leg too much. Tomorrow: Pilates and elliptical (or something.) Sunday: swim. And I will not overeat. I will not overeat. I will not overeat.
My weight this morning was 197.
That's 8, count-em, 8 pounds up from six weeks ago. I blame Halloween, cold weather, being overtired, and my own inability to stop shoving food in my mouth. (and my injury, but I could be doing plenty of exercise if I chose to make the time.)
My clothes are tight, my thighs rub together, I feel physically yucky. It's not that I haven't been exercising - I am averaging 3-4 times a week of a decent aerobic workout of one type or another, plus 2ish light core/weight trainings. But I've been eating double or triple what I should with absolutely no self-control. So - with Thanksgiving and the holidays coming, and everyone having cookies and crap around, I am determined to get ahold of myself and hit January 1 weighing less than I do now. Can get back to 190 by then? I don't know. But I should be able to lose a pound a week, right?
I am 43 years old. Why do I still undermine myself at every turn? Why do I say out loud thatI want to control my eating, but at the very same time, think, "oh, there will be chocolate at the hair salon, great!" I heard a commercial on the radio this morning for a hypnotist that used that very idea, saying, "stop being your own worst enemy and become your own best friend."
My daughter wants a turn on the computer but I am definitely coming back to this theme, hopefully in a more coherent way. Meanwhile, I went to sleep at 8:30 pm last night instead of swimming; did nothing today. Wednesday I did 30 minutes on the elliptical and 25 minutes of weights; Tuesday I did spinning but it hurt my leg too much. Tomorrow: Pilates and elliptical (or something.) Sunday: swim. And I will not overeat. I will not overeat. I will not overeat.
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