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Tuesday June 24

Like my man Kenny says...

You gotta know when to hold 'em
know when to fold 'em
know when to walk away
know when to run

Well I am not so frantic that I am running away, but I'm definitely walking away from the scale. I've had it for now. Of course it's always a woman's perogative to change her mind, but even thinking that my weighing in days are over brings a happy smile to my face and a feeling of freedom in my heart.

Last week I was beating myself up for getting so anxious over the scale. When I really stopped to think about it, it's really not so crazy that I would react to weighing in the way I do. I have had a lifetime of conditioning to focus on that number. As a kid, it didn't matter whether I got A's, won voice medals, or was involved with five million extra curricular activities. I was a fat failure and no one would ever love me until I lost weight. When I dieted, I must have done something wrong on the weeks I didn't lose. Or I was gaining weight to spite my family (this one probably true!). When I went to college (a music conservatory), there were plenty of people lecturing me on weight...voice teachers, dance teachers, costumers, opera directors etc.. never mind all the other girls in my classes who obsessed over the latest diets, gains and losses. I was told no one would look past my fat to hear my gorgeous voice. When I moved to NYC, my first interview was with a headhunter who had on his wall a sign that said The bigger the girth, the lower the net worth. I spent several lonely years in the big apple living the cold reality of a supersized world...all with a jolly smile on my face to mask the emptiness on the inside. The only person who has really not given a shit about the scale number is my husband...and sometimes I even wonder to myself how it could be that he doesn't care..like I can't even comprehend it. Is it any wonder why I'm so messed up over getting on a scale?

For me, slaying the scale monster right now means not giving it any power over how I feel. And right now, the only way to do that is to not get on it. I will be removing my weight from my BFL challenge chart and will be relying on measurements and photos...two things which really aren't loaded for me. I feel I am equipped now - I have the tools to continue on my journey without the compulsive need for scale validation. Should Oprah need my numbers to have me on her show or should someone want to pay me to be a spokesperson for them, than I will happily get on the scale!

I have to remind myself that I and my successes are far more than just a number. When I no longer have to remind myself of this, maybe I will be ready to face the monster with a smile on my face and a sword in my hand!

JeAnne

6/24/2003 04:55 pm link to this post

Friday June 20

Oye! A little cheese...

to go with that whine?

Sorry about that y'all...I was having a bit of a pity partay enhanced by the ever so charming PMS monster. In answer to my own whine...ok, it is definitely easier not trying. But just because it's easy, doesn't mean it's fun! And while eating is definitely on the "fun" list, it's more fun being on top without worrying about buddha crushing my sexy Scotsman. Or telling a muscle head at the gym to not bother stripping the weight for me and watch his expression as I add more on *grin*. Yes, more fun.

Tomorrow makes the end of Week 8 which means progress pics and scale trepidation. Gads...I'm pretty sure that's why my head has been so darn screwy this week. I keep thinking if I beat my head against the wall and scream, "WHAT'S THE BIG FUCKING DEAL?!?!" that I will get over my scale/number anxiety. I mean, I know there are better measures of success. Or at least the rational half (well, maybe quarter) of my brain knows this. And yet every single time I get ready to weigh in, I feel the same dread as when we used to pass a weigh station on the highway. Dad used to joke, "thank god the weigh station's closed, right JeAnne?" ...every single time. So I go through anxiety, dread, and sodium paranoia at least a couple of days beforehand. I think this time it's just a little worse because I'm doing this "Challenge" and I'm eager for these earth shattering results so many achieve. What is this hold that the scale has over me? I see so many positive changes in my life and yet the scale is my monster under the bed. I tread lightly around it holding my breath and letting it control my mental destiny. When do I finally let go of this? Is it something that goes away ever? Will there ever be a day in my life where the scale wont even exist except for the yearly doctor's check up? I fantasize about that day honestly! Such freedom I can't even begin to imagine.

Regardless of tomorrow, I *will* stay the course and bust my booty through week 12...actually week 14 for the end of the gym challenge (which by the way is a humungous joke seeing as there has been no followup since the initial start up meeting). I have promised myself to give this program 12 weeks and I intend to honor that promise no matter how small the result. At the end I want to be able to say that I gave it my all in order to properly assess the next course of action.

JeAnne

6/20/2003 02:52 pm link to this post

Wednesday June 18

meh.

I feel blue.
Don't know why.
Sometimes it just seems easier to not try.

6/18/2003 05:06 pm link to this post

Tuesday June 10

I spy with my little eye...

Triceps!

Yes, beneath my flappin' bat wings, I did see the beginnings of tricep definition. This morning I glanced in the mirror to make sure I wasn't bending forward on my tricep pull downs and lo and behold...a dimple! I saw dimples and a slight curve where my buff tricep lies beneath my fat...yippie kye yay! Of course you can't see it now because my gym pump is gone - believe me, I've checked in the bathroom mirror at least twice today. But it *is* there.

I've also noticed in the bath when I stretch my leg up in the air, a slight cut in the quad area and a slight cut in the hamstring area. Finally!!! Oh my gosh, I think I'm turning into a muscle ho. I even made the hubster chuckle when I flexed my pecs and made "the girls" dance. Hmmm...don't care so much about dancing; a little perky lift would be nice!

This weekend I was in RI. I have to admit I didn't plan to the extent that I really needed to in order to have a BFL weekend while traveling and on vacation. Three of the four days I ended up reverting back to WW points. I found it difficult to squeeze in all the meals and have them be totally balanced when I was running around and having a good time. However, I also didn't say "oh to hell with it all, I may as well eat what I want and start again when I get back to work". The 1/2 gallon of Edy's Snickers ice cream stayed in my mom's freezer untouched. Microwave popcorn - barely a glance. I made the decision to follow something I knew I could follow without too much stress and still stay in the right state of mind. I'm happy with that. Next time, I will plan better and perhaps make another choice accordingly.

I'm really not sure where the heck I'm going with today's thoughts so hang with me here...

Ah yes....progress, not perfection. I truly think there is no such thing as perfect. There is always more out there. I guess I would be one of those pain in the ass teachers who would not give an A+ because of the possibility of something better coming a long. That is not to say that we don't progress and strive to hone in and perfect our healthy habits. When success relies on perfection, we tend to fall into the "all or nothing mentality". See if any of these ring a bell:

I missed my workout, so my day is shot.

I can't believe I blew it by eating ___, I may as well start again on Sunday.

I have no time, so I'll wait to start when I have time.

There are too many things going on to concentrate on me.

These are all focusing on perfection. One cookie does not "blow" a healthier approach to living unless you decide to pig out for the next week because you may as well REALLY blow it. The perfect moment to start eating right will never come. The perfect time to squeeze in time for the gym will never come. You must make that time. You make time to get things done for your employers, your family and guess what? You are important enough to make time for you. We're all busy.

Start with a 15 minute walk a day. Start with making breakfast at home instead of buying out all three meals. Start with replacing soda with water.

Progress. The more progress, the more success. Worrying about perfection will only make you put off your ultimate goals.


JeAnne


6/10/2003 03:38 pm link to this post

Wednesday June 4

So Strong..

...is a great song by Velvet Chain, an obscure little fantastic group made known to be by the goodness that *was* (sob) Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I digress...

Jody's motto: -Always go for strong-

I love that motto. My personal mantra for this challenge is "hardcore", but that doesn't quite have the ring to it that "Always go for strong" does.

I never, ever wanted to be strong. I remember going to Portugal for the first time when I was in elementary school and we went to meet and visit my ailing grandmother. My grandfather gave me a huge bear hug, pinched my cheek and exclaimed, "Ah JeAnne, tan fuerte!". This roughly translates to "strong" which really translates to a polite way of saying "fat"..much like the American "stocky" which only means you're headed straight for Sears toughskins without passing GO or collecting $200.

I grew up incredibly fast, and learned to take care of myself the only way I knew how...with food. Food was a way to nurture when no one was doing it. Food was also a weapon, my weight gain being the only thing that could really hurt my mother at the time. And with each over achieving accomplishment and with each rebound from trauma and tragedy everyone would tell me how strong I was while I was screaming, NO!! I DON'T WANT TO BE!!!

I ate to be a tower of strength when the walls were crumbling inside me. I became the person that everyone could rely on and all I wanted was to give up that incredibly huge burden. Just once, I wanted someone to take care of me. I cried myself to sleep praying, begging and pleading for it.

Then I met my husband and I realized that's not what I really wanted at all. I really wanted someone to say "I love you." I. love. you. Just you - who or whatever defines "you". Once I trusted that (and trusted that the carpet wouldn't be pulled from under me as it had countless times before), I was able to really be me. And me *is* strong. And I like being strong. Strong doesn't mean you don't need anyone. Strong means you find it in you to make things happen. Strong means the fire is in the belly to move and take action. Strong means pushing yourself mentally and physically to be someone above and beyond the norm.

Because face it: We fatties have never been the norm. We had taken that fire and power to create the environment we needed to in order to survive what was happening in that space of time. Now, we can take the fire and power to create who we have the potential to be.

Always go for strong.

Thanks Jody.

6/4/2003 05:07 pm link to this post

Tuesday June 3

Sliding into obscurity...

I was going to lump all of my thoughts about Jody's comment in one post, but I thought I would separate them out because they are both important.

She mentioned that she had posted on my guestbook and that she may have gone unnoticed.

I'm here to tell you all, none of you go unnoticed.

The chunks, nuggets and stories all come from me because I stick with it long enough to have results. One of the tools in my "Perserverance Toolbox" is my guestbook, my email and now the comment feature on this blog. I know it's probably totally shocking but...I'm not perfect! (gasp, I said it). There are definitely impatient days, sad days, frustrated days and pint -o- Ben&Jerry's days. But every single time I need to pick myself up and dust myself off again, I go into my guestbook. I read as many entries as I need to to feel that love again...some days it's only a few, other days it's the whole damn book. There is nothing that gives me more inspiration than reading that I made a difference in someone else's life..even if it's for one moment. That someone took the time to post a reply to me means I touched them in some way. That touches me and helps me to strive to be extraordinary. Because I grew up in a small and not so close family, it also helps me to get feedback from women everywhere who suffer through the same struggles. Who knew that someone else pondered a piece of cake for a half hour? Who knew that someone else could work themselves into hysteria over food? Who knew that someone else would sneak food into the bathroom because that was the only place to eat without judgement?

It's a remarkable gift to be able to reach out and share with other people. Bill Phillips calls it the Universal Law of Reciprocation. Earthy crunchies call it the three fold law. Karma. I don't get caught up in terminology so use whatever name works for you, but use it. That which you give comes back to you. Give freely and unconditionally and you will reap rewards unimaginable.

I'm taking this time right now to thank everyone who has responded to a post, emailed me, signed my book, commented here. It has helped more than you could possibly ever know and keeps me going when I need it the most.

Namaste.


6/3/2003 04:12 pm link to this post

Sunday June 1

Random thoughts on a rainy Sunday

What the hairy heck is going on with this weather?!?

Enough on that..except to say it's raining...AGAIN. Seattle is officially off my list of potential places to live.

So it's Sunday, Gym week #2, BFL week #6....I feel...well a helluva lot better than yesterday!

Yesterday in a moment of "sure, I can handle this" delirium...I decided to have a free day instead of a free meal. The upside is I didn't have the all day binge fest I thought I could. The downside is I still ate too much and felt absolutely without a doubt like a big sack o turd.

My free day:

workout - Chest/Tri/Shoulders

english muffin toasted with peanut butter

honey puffed kashi with almonds and raisins

(so far so good though there is hardly a hunk of protein in sight)

cuban sandwich

3 homemade best ever chocolate chip cookies

(I ate three and there were 12 in my freezer...could have been worse)

trail mix and some twizzlers watching Finding Nemo

Dallas BBQ - a giant pina colada, and the steak and shrimp platter minus 3/4 of the onion ringlets, the bread that came under the steak and about 1/4 of the potato.

Can we say CARBS?!?!

I'm seriously convinced that it was the movie food on that put me over the edge. In fact I think it was the colossal pina colada (hello sugar and alcohol ..more sugar) along with dinner that cinched it for me. I felt so dang uncomfortable I could not even fathom the thought of going home to serious party time (what hubby and I affectionately call sex). I lay naked upon my bed feeling the cool central air woosh over my corpulent buddha and prayed for #2. And to think that I had even toyed around with ordering an appetizer!

So not awful (nonstop eating from moment of waking to moment of sleeping), but certainly not perfect. My perfect free day would be to have what I want without eating to the point of uncomfortability. There are some that believe Bill Phillips gives us a free day so that we realize how shitty that food actually makes us. I believe that. And yet, I'm still drawn to overdoing it. I wouldn't even mind the carb "hangover" which is bound to happen even when not overdoing it on free meal/free day...it would only get me in the gym that much quicker the next morning. But I honestly did not like the feeling of last night and I have 6 days to plan my next free day. I know that the "perfect" free day can happen because I've done it. I remember it well. It was a bagel with pb and j, a tuna salad sandwich with a small bag of cool ranch doritos, and a beer with some bbq chicken and beef. It was not the healthiest of eating, but there was no bloated whale washed up on my bed cover either. I think the key is to plan ahead.

This weekend I will be in RI, so I have a feeling it will be close to a perfect free day as I always seem to do really well when I'm on vacation.

I did all in all have a great week. I got all my workouts in and I ate by the book. I'm still waiting for huge biceps or quads to come leaping out (so far no huge transformation), but I'll take feeling overall excellent.

In other news, the sabotage gods are out in full force. My explanation is five simple words:

Ben and Jerry's Take Away

You heard me. Now, my twice daily walk to and from work includes passing by a small park in which there is a Ben and Jerry's kiosk. They have about 20 flavors..trust me, I checked it out(lookey but no touchey). It wasn't bad enough to pass the Mrs Fields, Dunkin Donuts, TCBY and about 5 Starbucks. No, they had to toss my friends B and J into the mix. *sigh*. The good news I suppose is that they don't offer pints. Pray for me people.

In other news, I had to put a good friend to rest...my pal Skippy. Skippy, the ever so sweet and creamy friend that graced many a cinnamon raisin bagel. I was living blissfully in ignorance until one day I just happened to read the ingredients label. My heart literally skipped a beat on "Partially hydro"..blah, blah, blah. Dammit, why does Skippy have to have transfats!? It was enough to make a grown woman cry. So I sighed, giving him the proper burial (in my garbage can under fat I had removed from my chicken breasts and dish soap for good measure) and went off to the store for the *shudder* natural kind.

Oh well...another one bites the dust.

JeAnne

6/1/2003 02:23 pm link to this post