Entry 13 - For Good Luck and Good Living!

Happened upon an interesting article in the local paper today about a doctor self-treating her MS with diet and exercise. Linky.

What I find very cool is, I'm more or less doing the same thing she is (although I haven't gotten into the exercise portion much yet, but that's more time than desire, which I'll explain below).

I've adopted something similar to her eating habits, although I got my idea from Joel Fuhrman's "Eat to Live." He recommends eating organic foods in as close to their natural state as possible – aim for one pound of fresh veg a day, one pound of cooked veg, four fruits, one cup of legumes, one ounce of nuts, one tablespoon of flax seed. If you can mash all that down, then you can indulge a bit with other things such as up to one serving of a starch (sweet potato, rice) and maybe even meat twice a week (although it'd better be fish, baby). Fuhrman largely pushes the vegan lifestyle, which makes this former cattle owner, current grill owner, and total steak aficionado a little antsy. The main point is, though, eat extremely nutrient-dense foods. Bypass iceberg lettuce for romaine or fresh spinach. Use germinated quinoa (germination before cooking ups the nutrients) instead of white rice. Yadda yadda.

I love fruit. I kinda like certain veg, fresh and cooked (I've actually found I like just eating romaine lettuce leaves as a snack). It's hard to limit to one ounce of nuts, but I have been. I love me some starchy carbs, but it doesn't necessarily break my heart to give up the majority of 'em. Lovin' the quinoa, and actually I think it tastes a bit better when germinated to little sprouts before cooking. Giving up meat and other animal products, though? Yeah... I'm not doing that. I have two fat free yogurt smoothies a day (the banana in each helps me reach the fruit goal, along with my morning and afternoon apple/pear/orange snacks at work), and I'm eatin' meat with most of my evening meals. Sorry, dude, I have canines with which to rip animal flesh from the bone, I'm usin' 'em.

But you know what? I've lost seven pounds. And that's not even the most exciting part! I come home at night, and I have energy. I'd forgotten what that feels like. I can get my cooking done, play with my son, take care of some house duties, all without wanting to sit down and take a nap! My evenings haven't been like this in years. I'm stunned – a week and a half in (off and on – see what happened last weekend), and I'm lovin' life again!

My stomach's screaming at me a little bit – "Hey, why are you giving me stuff I have to digest, you bitch???" – but it's adjusting. I'm also waking up on the first alarm in the morning rather than smacking snooze. I'm dropping off to sleep quicker. I've randomly been dropping to the floor to do the plank position and push-ups. If I had more time, I'd start doing the Wii Active or my exercise bike again! A few more pounds, I might pull out my elliptical trainer (stupid weight limit on it that I'm still a tad too close to). My sex drive is up (John and I are both liking this part). And – shock and awe – I have no desire to eat the M&M's from the sixth floor vending machine!

Holy crap, is this actually working? I don't wanna be too optimistic, because I always start things out all gung ho then find myself consuming an entire bag of Cheetos Puffcorn in one go, but I'm a little bit excited here! And not just because of the weight, but because … I feel danged good!

I so hope I don't get all self-destructive on myself and blow it all over a candy bar or some crap. DO NOT WANT.

Entry 12 - Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam Eggs and Spam

So, I stopped by a Barnes & Noble at a mall yesterday on my way back from dropping off NinaBell with her dad. As I was leaving, there was a car letting someone off by the door, and an SUV filled with college-aged boys behind that. They were stopped, I was at a crosswalk, so I claimed "pedestrian right-of-way" and stepped out. Right at that time, the SUV swung around the parked car and almost hit me.

I just kept walking, when one of the boys in the SUV yelled, "Hey, that lady's made of Spam! I didn't know Spam could move!"

Asshat. C+ for originality, F for execution. Seriously, I've heard far better than that in my life. I need to credit A.S. in high school for the crack about, "The school had to build extra supports structures under your desk so you wouldn't crash through the floor" for one of the best.

But I had a good response - usually, that would have sent me into a bucket o' tears and a bucket o' chicken. But this time my reaction was, "Fuck you, asswipe. I'm going home and having some romaine lettuce, and an apple with peanut butter, cause I can lose weight, but you'll probably ALWAYS be an asshole."

Major breakthrough for me there! Instead of getting sullen, I got angry and motivated.

I had actually fallen off the wagon this weekend, too. I'd eaten peanut butter M&M's (their siren song is strong and pulls me to my doom) cheese tots at Sonic (oh so delish!) and even had a mocha java chiller. I was going to have cheese tots again for lunch. I truly, I need to thank that motherfucker for getting me back on the path.

The last week, I've largely been trying to eat foods in as close to their natural form as possible. I'm cooking my quinoa – would be a bit tough otherwise – and I'm using non-fat, low sugar yogurt in some smoothies, but otherwise, I'm trying to keep things largely fresh and uncooked.

I've lost six pounds.

When I ate the cheese tots after a week of good eating, I felt like crap.

When I completed the drive to drop my daughter off with her dad, I didn't collapse as I usually would. Instead, I got laundry done, and pre-made my breakfasts for the week (for breakfast, quinoa with apples and cinnamon, coconut milk on the side for hot cereal goodness; for lunch, quinoa and mango salad with cranberries, green onions, fresh parsley, and a white wine vinegar dressing). Then I gave the boy a bath, and fell asleep for a good night's rest.

Not too shabby, right? Nutrient-dense, fresh foods are the nom, and I deserve to feel good, so I need to keep eating them.

I deserve to feel good, dammit. And not the temporary chocolate-y "feel good," but actually feel good.

Entry 11 – Live Every Day As If You Were Dead Yesterday

As is readily apparent, I've been thinking lots about my weight lately and why it's been such a lifelong struggle. Since I drove to Kansas and back this weekend, I had a lot of time in the car to think (God bless the man who intended portable DVD players, so the kids were well occupied and not begging for stops every 40 minutes).

Anyway, this is far too over-thinking and introspective, but I present now my weekend o' brain busting.

I hate to sound braggie, but I certainly don't suck. I'm tall, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I have a wonderful husband, amazing kids, good family support all the way around, an awesome job, a beautiful home, – If I knew me from the outside, I'd probably hate me. Not that I've had a perfect life in the past by any means, but damn, the here and now is pretty frickin' sweet. Which is probably why, to some extent, I do hate me. It's all too good. I have to have something wrong with me, or I would be unlikable.

On another level, I have to have something wrong with me, because some part of my mind does not believe I deserve all that I have. I'm just the overweight arthritic schlump lisper from my childhood. Or the self-entitled bitch from my misspent 20's. I've always looked to the past and, in any specific era, found things that have been wrong or I've done wrong. I didn't feel like me until my thirties, and now that I'm here, I like it. But I admit I've always felt somehow defective. Now that most of those defects are excised or controlled, I almost feel guilty for having it so good. So am I self-creating this defect as a punishment for bad behavior?

Then there's the idea that maybe I'm thinking I have to have something wrong with me to maintain some sort of cosmic balance - that if I didn't have my weight wrong, then something else terrible would happen to balance all of the good. I'm using my body as a sacrificial lamb to avoid other catastrophes.

Yet another level, I hate to feel ordinary. Which, who doesn't? But I do worry I take it to narcissistic levels at times. Possibly enough to defeat myself. Maybe part of it is I very badly want to be different, to stand out, that I'm afraid I won't if I'm not overweight? I want to be somewhat broken so I have something that sets me apart, that makes people take notice?

I dunno. Probably most likely option 2 or – punishing myself or sacrificing myself in some twisted definition of yin and yang. My family's awesome at that, of thinking we're never good enough for what we have, or thinkging we have to have some kind of balance. Because I know while food gives me a temporary high, it's going to just cause more pain, physical and emotional, in the end, so why keep jamming it down the gullet in stupid, painful quantities?

I also heard a statement this weekend about second chances at life. There's a passage in The Lovely Bones about how the murdered Susie inhabits her best friend's body for a moment so she can kiss her boyfriend, and the pleasure in just the feeling of having lips, and touching those lips to another's. It made me think, maybe the old saying, "Live each day as if it were your last" is backwards. It should be, "Live each day as if you were dead yesterday." How would I treat my body differently in order to get the maximum pleasure out of every moment, and to extend those moments, if I spent 24 hours without one? Would I jam down all the cake I could (gluten free, of course), or would I treat my body like the temple it is, would I be a good steward of my body so that so many other sensations I've missed out on thus far would not be dulled? We're only here a relatively short time, why spend it in self-inflicted, preventable misery? Why am I willing to let temporary pleasures of food interfere with the indelible pleasures of playing in the floor with my children and being able to easily stand up again afterwards? Why do I dull my brain with sugar highs when I could let a sharper mind handle my tasks?

I need to be better to, and for, my body and my mind. I know there are more fulfilling pleasures out there than a melting chocolate.

Entry 10 - Focus on the Positive

So, my good bud Laurel (waves at Laurel) suggested I try a "think positive" approach on dieting. In particular, eat certain "good for you" foods every day, as a requirement. This foods are "fill you up" standards. If I'm still hungry after those, I can still snack on something else, but I have to eat certain healthy foods (ones I actually like) before I can do anything else. The plan she put out is more structured than that, and includes some exercise, but it sounds reasonable, right?

We're going to try that together as of Monday.

In the meantime, I still need to figure out why I have some self-destrutive behaviors. Hubby and I discussed this last night. I have two things that, for me, would typically be tremendous motivators: 1) Health and 2) Hypocrisy. Health, well, I've laid out my pre-cancerous condition below. The hypocrisy needs a bit more explanation.

Dad died of lung cancer, after 40 years of smoking (although he'd quit 10 years before he was diagnosed), although working for the railroad around large diesel engines couldn't have helped. Not to mention all those farm fertilizers. But I digress. As a result, I cannot even look at a cigarette now without getting nauseous. The smell of them makes me positively sick not only physically, but sick with grief. My brother, however, still smokes. It astounds me, and I have not been able to figure out how, after knowing, witnessing first hand what smoking can do, he still does it.

Yet, what am I doing? The same thing. I know the consequences of what I'm doing to my body, yet I'm still cramming food down as fast as I can.

Normally my own hypocrisy, my judgment of others for something I do myself, will make me reconsider my stance, will help me re-evaluate the whats and whys of everything. I'll either stop my actions or alter my opinions because I cannot stand hypocrisy.

But in this case, I can't do it. To paraphrase Homer Simpson, in this particular instance, you couldn't out-hypocrite me on the hypocritiest day of the year with an electrified hypocrisy machine.

Food's always been there for me. It's always been a constant. When my oldest sister took off, I still had buttery popcorn. When my first marriage was disintegrating, I still had chocolate. When Dad died, I still had eclairs (well I don't now because of the Celiac, but I did then). People, by their own choices or by unfortunate circumstance, can't always be there. But I'll always have food, right? I mean, I need it to live! What better justification for relying on it?

Over-relying on it is the problem, though. And that's what I do. Hence my Grimace-y figure. Only less purple.

Entry 9 - Vacation

So, good and bad from this vacation. Good - I didn't give a damn what I looked like in a bathing suit. Seriously, for the first time in my life I walked arouna and didn't care. Not even as a skinny thing did I have that much confidence in a suit. Or is it more I don't give a crap what people think anymore? Either way, I think it's a step up.

Downside - remember that six pounds I initially lot? Then three of 'em came back? Well, the other three also came back and brought three more friends along. This time, I totally deserved it. I ate like a frickin' pig over vacation. Partly because it's really hard to eat on the road when you can't eat gluten, so you thrive on baked potatoes because it's about the only thing they don't beat with a wheat stick before they serve it to you. But also partly because I ate three small bags of jelly bellies in five days. One bag was sweetened with Splenda, though! Do I get partial credit?

I ate the most when I was driving. I suppose as a way to ease the boredom.

Gotta figure this out. Just gotta.