Sazzy and the World Record Meatloaf

Weight Watchers World: Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Day two of swim team practice for The Boy. Amid my worries that our tight new schedule was gong to affect my ability to produce healthy dinners, one of my fellow swim team moms had a confession yesterday. Her three kids are so active in various sports and clubs that they eat fast food every weeknight without fail. Just the encouragement I needed. I'd never been so glad I only have one kiddo.

I couldn't criticize, though...her kids might be devouring McD's while mine dines on home cooking, but her three are thin as pages out of the Old Testament. The Boy has adorable little love handles and a squishy belly.

Anyhooo...many of you already know, I'm a planner. Good thing, too. Armed with knowledge of our upcoming time constrictions, I planned to make two meatloaves tonight and serve one tomorrow.

I careened into the driveway with The Boy after work and ran inside. The boy scrubbed potatoes while I threw the meatloaf together. The potatoes were tossed in olive oil, salt, pepper and sage, and the meat sat in a pan in two little lumps and we were out the door to swim practice in fifteen minutes flat. Those were two mighty quick loaves of meat!

The best was yet to come, though.

It is important to me to know whether or not my family likes what I made for dinner. More than a decade ago I instituted a rating system so that I could decipher the mumblings Honey makes around mouthfuls of dinner. The simple zero to ten scale yeilds a few zeros and mostly twenties from The Boy, but Honey is much more stingy. In ten years, I have earned a ten once. Yes, once. And i'm a durn good cook.

So, tonight, as we dished up meatloaf and potatoes and veggies, I asked for my score.

Honey gave me a 9.8.

A 9.8!!!!

I almost fell off my chair.

By the time the table was cleared, both of my men had eluded to the possibility of meatloaf as a midnight snack and staked a claim for a larger helping of roasted potato tomorrow night.

So, tomorrow if I seem a little off my game, it's because my back hurts...from sleeping on the floor...in the garage...in front of the fridge...guarding tomorrow night's meat loaf from a premature demise!

Good News / Bad News: The Grill is Gone, But I Did Not Eat It

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

When I was a kid, if something turned up missing the first thing you had to do was declare that you did not eat it. Whether or not the missing item was actually food was utterly irrelevant. In keeping with my upbringing: we have the title to today's blog post.

At first I thought the grill had been stolen, which would have led to great fits of crying, formation of a family task force, and pronouncement of some horrible judgement upon the perpetrator.

It was not stolen. It was left at the BIL and SIL's last weekend. We brought it there because the BIL has recently developed an irrational fear of his propane grill and thought that our charcoal kettle version might be less likely to induce arm-hair loss. No matter, Honey ended up tending the meats in the end.

The bad news is that this puts a damper on my plans for PP-friendly grilled meals this week, and of all weeks for that to happen, this is not the one I would have picked. First, because swim team practices have commenced for The Boy. This means that the time during which I would normally be preparing dinner, I am pool-side and sweaty instead. It would have been incredibly handy if Honey could be sharing the workload during the dinner shift this week.

Second, I am going to need some low-PP options this week. Keep reading for my reasons:

Related good/bad news:

If the grill really had been missing, I would have been able to prove that I had not eaten it because when I got on the scale (who is still unnamed!) this morning, it told me I lost 1.4 pounds. There is no way that I could eat a grill and still lose weight.

Unfortunately, I have no idea how I managed to lose a single ounce, and as this week is shaping up to be quite similar to last week in that I have already dipped into my weeklies and it is only lunch on day one, I am afraid to tempt fate once again. Surely I will lose...or gain, depending on how you look at it!

Consequently, the missing grill is going to throw a wrench in my quest for an On-Plan week. I will find a way to manage, I am sure.

That grill just better not show up on my scale next Tuesday, because I swear I did not eat it!

A Fireside Re-Introduction to My Taste Buds

Weight Watchers World: Monday, May 16, 2011

Me, Honey and The Boy went to Wal-Mart Sunday night and came home with one of those wrought-iron fire pits. I had no idea that such a purchase would have an impact on my weight-loss, nevermind a good one since we did buy it with the express purpose of using it to roast some giant marshmallows we picked up at the grocery store a few weeks back.

We had a fantastic lunch of roasted pork loin and sauteed veggies (which I shall tell you about in another post!), so dinner was a bowl of cereal on the patio while we watched Honey assemble the fire pit (sans directions, of course). Then there was building the fire.

Honey is the manly-man sort, and I really love that about him. But the man is no boy scout. In clarified terms: he can't build a fire to save his life. In defence of his ego, I have to say that I don't think it's a matter of skills or lack thereof, it's just plain old bad mojo. Case in point: there have been times when the man couldn't get a Duralog to stay lit.

Anyway, miricles happened Sunday night and after two tries, Honey lit the thing on fire. I was so proud. Granted, it took some coaching from me (Don't pile all those hunks of wood on top of it, Honey, you'll smother the poor little flame!) and a lot of twig-gathering from The Boy, but at last we had a miniscule blaze in our little pit. Remember, in Texas during a drought, anything more would have made me nervous.

We sat around the fire for a good half hour. We swatted insects and waxed nostalgic. The smell of the smoke brought me back to childhood camping trips and, specifically, eyeing a campfire from my perch on a yellow training-potty while utterly nekkid. (Yes, I remember things from when I was two. I remember my first birthday party, too but don't ask me where I parked the car at the store...I don't remember.)

Anyway, on the heels of my memories of potty-training camping trips, The Boy piped up:

What about those marshmallows, Daddy?
Not one to delay a sugar fix any longer than necessary, Honey immediately went to help him get out the fixins for S'mores. I find it interesting as they came back out with arms full and began to arrange ingredients within reach of their chairs, that The Boy inquired as to the number of points in a S'more. I guessed seven. I might be wrong.

I had budgeted points for a single one of the oversized marshmallows. Those sugar-puffed suckers were three times the size of a normal mallow and were going to cost me two points, so one was plenty. I skewered my victim and proceeded to burn it crispy and black, just the way I like it. It was murderous, waiting for it to cool enough to eat without burning my tongue and, lemme say, it was two points of sugary delishiousness! As I popped the last bite in my mouth, I was thinking about another one. I had the points. I could if I wanted to. I could have two more, in fact.

But I waited. How unusual. That's when it happened!

As I dallied in my decision, the sweetness faded away, leaving only the bitter taste of burnt ash. It was awful.
We all know that the old Sazzy wouldn't have waited long enough for that taste to begin with. If she had, she would have quickly covered it up by cramming another roasted mallow down her gullet. The new Sazzy did not.

I can hardly believe it, but I thought to myself: Geez, that was hardly worth it! And I got up, went inside and brushed my teeth.

More amazing still, I accidentally forgot to eat my last five points before bedtime. I didn't even realize it until this morning! It makes me wonder at how I used to ignore my taste buds in addition to all my body's other communications regarding food. It's amazing what can happen when we stop medicating ourselves with food, or just eating out of habit, or eating because something is supposed to taste good. How many times have I eaten something decadent when my mouth wasn't really thrilled with it to begin with?

Thank you, Marshmallow! Thank you, Firepit! I appreciate the memories and the lessons, too!

QUICK! Somebody Nominate Me for the Nobel Peace Prize!

Weight Watchers World: Thursday, May 12, 2011

Seriously, I have found the nutritious, low-point solution to the mad-crazy peanut butter cup craving.

Oatmeal with Splenda, peanut butter and Ovaltine!

I was literally crying for joy into my bowl last night as I licked the last creamy oats from my spoon...and then from the bottom of the bowl. Just think of the marriages that will flourish in the wake of my 7-PP discovery; the waistlines that will deminish! The wars that will be avoided! The mirrors that will not be smashed! The scales that will not be crushed!

No, I don't think that the Nobel Prize is too much to expect for this.

Anyhooooo...

I was talking to a friend last night and she was saying all the things I used to feel. Like:

"I'm hardly eating anything and I'm hungry all the time. So how can I possibly still be gaining weight?"

It's a frustration I am glad to have unloaded. Of course, that was the point at which our conversation turned to Weight Watchers. And I saw her light turn on. I remember years ago, when my switch finally flipped, too.

There is a way of eating out there that takes the mystery out of that ascending number on my scale!
And WW has delivered on that promise. I'm so glad. I can deal with weeks where I don't lose, or lose only a fraction of a pound, because I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life anyway. So what does it matter? And the thought of indefinate WW membership...does not stir dread in my heart. I'm good with it. Really good. So good I want to share the joy. And I do.

So far, two co-workers have joined me on plan and a third is ready to sign up. Is it too much that in addition to the Nobel Prize, it is a goal of mine to convert the whole world to WW? Nah!

Revenge of the Indian Buffet

Weight Watchers World: Wednesday, May 11, 2011

I am so reminded of why I am doing this!

Went out to dinner last night (yay). Got to the restaurant and realized they were closed (rats). Instead we went a couple doors down to an Indian buffet where we have been many times.

To make a long story short, I knew I shouldn't go back for that second plate, but I was pretty proud of myself for mostly doing the vegetarian dishes and skimping on the potatos and bread. I limited my rice and had the tandoori chicken, but still: two plates.

And the Indian buffet exacted its revenge.

I left the restaurant so full that the feeling nearly classified as "painful" and so thirsty that upon arriving home, I drank water until I literally thought I might throw up. It was not pleasant. Mild heartburn elbowed me awake around 1 am.

This morning, at about the halfway point of my mile-long hike from my parking spot to my desk, the Indian buffet made its presence known one last time. Suffice it to say that the buffet was about to leave my body in a completely undignified hurry.

I am relieved to report that I did make it to the ladies' room.

It's amazing to me, but in spite of my gluttony, I stayed On Plan. Really, I did. I used more than half of my weeklies, but that is still on plan! I did not binge. I did overeat, however.

I'm glad to have a reminder of why I'm doing this and my reminder was certainly one I understood. I hated feeling like that. I don't want to revisit that condition again anytime soon. How did I live with myself feeling like that so often? I just don't know!

Once again, I am so happy that I am on a plan that is doable in real-life. Real life means that there are times that I eat too much. It is just going to happen. And I don't want to have to beat myself silly every time it happens. I want to be able to pick myself up and continue and all the better if I can track my splurge. If I still see a loss next Tuesday, that will be the sugar-free icing on my fat-free cake! LOL!

Time Warps, Doctors and Scales! Oh My!

Weight Watchers World: 5/8/2011 11:17 PM

Tomorrow morning is going to be good news and bad news. I get to sleep in, but I have to go to the doctor...that special doctor who specializes in women. Yeah...not a fun sort of man. It doesn't help that I've never been to this particular doctor before, haven't been to a doctor in nearly a decade, and...I won't post the poor man's name on this here blog, but lets just say that it is pronounced vrey similarly to the word "ornery".

I'm thinking that this is not going to be fun.

But on to what I really want to write about today: I got my scale!

It is lovely and digital and, according to advertizing, very, very, seriously, completely accurate.

Accuracy is extremely important to me. It appeals to the planner / organizer in me, I guess. My issues with my previous scale remind me of a very serious issue that popped up early in my marriage to Honey.

Honey is one of those people who think that the only way to get anywhere on time is to create a series of virtual time warps in your house. You know...the alarm clock is set ten minutes fast, the clock in the kitchen is five minutes fast, the DVR clock is telling you the time in China because...well, because that's where it came from and no one can figure out how to set it correctly anyway. EVERY.SINGLE.CLOCK. DIFFERENT. TIME.

Nearly drove me insane.

To add insult to injury, Honey insisted that he was doing all this to help me to get places on time. Right.

I won't claim to be perfect, but I will tell you: I was a slowpoke as a kid and I hated having that reputation. As an adult, I am extremely punctual. Not only did I not need Honey's help, but his "help" only served to confuse me and make me want to pinch his head right off his shoulders.

Anyway, all I wanted to know is: What time is it really?
We finally resolved the clock issues (read: I got my way). This brings me to the scale. It's been nice knowing how much I am losing, but i just gotta know how much I really weigh. Really.

Enter my new digital scale (who has not been named yet, if any of y'all have ideas). This scale has a lot in common with tomorrow morning: it's good and bad. Good because now I know exactly how much I weight. Bad because now I know that Harvey was off to the tune of fifteen pounds. And you can guess the direction in which he erred.

So tomorrow I have to make some adjustments to my stats. I'm disappointed to know that I have a lot farther to go than I thought, but if I can lose 100 pounds, what's 15 more, right? Besides, this isn't about how long I'll be watching my weight, I'll be doing it for the rest of my life, fifteen pounds more or not.

On the bright side, I have only 1 pound to go before I'm out of the 250s! That and tomorrow when Dr. Ornery (!!) inevitably ask me what I'm doing about my obesity, I have a good answer for him.

Have a great week, y'all.

Mother's Day Marvels

Weight Watchers World: 5/7/2011 9:17 PM

I'm sitting here observing the irony that, in pre

paration for Mother's Day, I just spent an afternoon slaving cake, salad and chicken that are to be srved tomorrow afternoon in my honor. How did that happen? Ah, I suppose it's more fitting than ironic.

Anyway, the food. I'm actually pretty charged about it. We're going over the BIL and SIL's house (brother-in-law and sister-in-law...I spend a lot of time with them, so they are bound to find their way into this blog from time to time) to grill. Marinated chicken and ribeye steaks are on the menu along with my SIL's specialty: a decadent casserole of hash brown potatoes, real sour cream, cheese and butter. I will be having a half a cup of that. If I'm feeling brave, maybe I'll ask her for the recipe and feed it through the recipe builder. Or maybe I won't...but I should, so I will. Sorry to vomit my stream of consciousness all over the screen...

I'm bringing a salad. I picked up organic greens and i'm slicing up some strawberries to go in it along with some sunflower seeds (yum, my new favorite thing to put on a salad). I'm going to go for the two tablespoons of low fat raspberry vinaigrette on mine. So...salad is good. Grilled chicken is going to save my hide when it comes to protein. As much as I love ribeye, i'll be having a few bites. That's it.

And cake. Oh, cake...my weakness, I admit. And I made a doosy for tomorrow. Don't worry, though, I was listening to my Fairy Weight Watcher. I made the lemon cake with applesauce instead of oil and it is frosted and filled with a combination of sugar-free lemon pudding and Fat Free Cool Whip. I even took a picture of it for you!

I promise to enjoy and track every bite! Happy Mother's Day to all the moms. AND happy Mother's Days to all those who help us be the mothers we want to be. Honey, that's just for you!

Extra APs For Odor?

Weight Watchers World: 5/6/2011 9:24 PM

Honey and The Boy are running around the house f*rting on each other. I'm afraid this is a very regular occurance around here. I'm not as annoyed about it as I would usually be and that's mostly because I'm wondering how many APs they are earning while doing it. Yep, it doesn't take much to distract mom sometimes. Especially when she is forcing herself not to lie to her AP tracker.

Amazing. It just figures that with my two men, gas would enter into such healthful practices as exercise. I'm about to faint from the fumes, but I'll go down with a grin because I'm reminded that moving our body takes all forms, even silly ones sometimes. I shouldn't try to be so dignified about it.

In case you are wondering, I am not going to join in. For many reasons. One of which is my pride in my delicate femininity. Another is that joining into their "game" would be akin to engaging a pair of nuclear warheads with a squirt gun. It's just not gonna work. I'm a little ashamed to say, but I've tried to fight back before. I've loaded up on yogurt, fiber bars and the like but, still, mama's got nothin'.

Anyway, off to an outdoor movie at our church tonight. There is going to be a concession stand *shudder*. Here goes nothin'!

Losing My Head

Weight Watchers World: 5/6/2011 1:27 PM

It is safe to say that I have indeed lost my head. Not my mind, my whole head. Figuratively and literally...well, sort of.

Between extra trips to various places for things I forgot and inane responses to basic questions, I am clearly not "with it" today. On one hand, I'm completely chalking it up to the fact that it's Friday and my mind mistook today for the start of a long weekend (unfortunately, it's long gone already and took with it the memory if its cell phone number. *sigh*). On the other hand, this has revealed one encouraging fact for me to ponder. Granted, it's odd, but unless you are reading this blog for the first time, you probably anticipated that.

The average adult human head weights between eight and twelve pounds. Since my top-knot is not oversized and I have lost 11 pounds in the last five weeks, I am going to continue along the path of thought that I began in my posts about my bunnies and the one about my pants...I have really, really lost my head. More specifically, I have lost the equivilent of my head...but with the way this day has been going, the analogy is working just fine.

In updates that would probably be considered mundane by non-Weight Watchers, I am a very satisfied non-dieter. I am never hungry, I am never deprived and I can confidently approach any food-involved situation and emerge on the other side unscathed. Miraculous. I struggle from time to time, sure...but for the first time ever, my mind is beginninig to close affectionately around the idea of doing this for the rest of my life.

Good things. Good things.

"Getting Thin Has Changed You"...Well DUH!

Weight Watchers World: 5/5/2011 12:17 PM

Most of us are aware the people (not just kids) say the darnedest things. It's shocking what pops out of the mouths of people who should know better.

As for the title of today's blog: no, I have not yet experienced this beauty but with more than a 100 pound loss in my future, I just might. I have to admit, I feel both anticipation and dread over it. Anticipation because I eagerly await the ligitimate use of the word "thin" in reference to my formerly fluffy self, and dread because the statement is so horribly glib.

Glib: Lacking tact and forethought.

It is a word I frequently weild against my unsuspecting Honey. Poor man. I do love him dearly!

Anyway, "Getting thin has changed you." I know you all can hear the words echoing in your ears, and the tone of voice you are imagining is making it clear that you are not being complimented. I envision an individual who somehow believes that my weight-loss has negatively affected my character and , thereby, their relationship with me.

Lets just state for the record, that there are plenty of people who get thin and in the process get ironically too big for their britches. The problem is not that they lost weight and turned into someone else, the problem is that they had character flaws from the get-go and losing weight just brought them to the surface in a more noticable way. But I digress...

Losing weight is going to change us. It just is. The same as having a baby or getting married does. As all significant changes in life, we not only have to adjust to how we feel about our selves, but to how people respond to us. I'm not going to pontificate on which is more difficult, but lets just agree that our self-adjustment is hard enough: people and their own glibness often make it that much harder. To this I add: it is especially noticable with significant weight-loss as everyone can see the change.

This blog is about change. Weight Watchers is about change. When people notice it, sure, they have their own take on whether or not they like it but the fact is that there are tons of people who don't like change at all, no matter what that change is. It's not your problem. Don't hate the people who have a hard time with your change, though. Remember how long it took you to change whatever you needed to change in order to just sign up for WW to begin with. It can be hard. For many of us, it's a choice we waffle about for years or make every January first.

So what am I saying? Change is just difficult. Cut your glib friends and family a break, and then continue on your healthy way and let them do their own adjusting. Sadly, this may mean the end of certain relationships as you knew them, or the end of them all together. Such is life, I'm afraid.

Don't let the things people say deter you from continuing in your good decisions. You're doing the right thing. Don't worry. You are!

Serious Business in the Bathroom and the Mysteries of Weight-Loss

Weight Watchers World:  5/4/2011 1:25 PM

When the plumbing isn't working right, we suddenly realize how much we take it for granted. And I'm not talking about the pipes in the walls of your house.

As you might have already realized, this blog is full of subjects that might be a bit of TMI, but I'm really hoping that we can just consider that part of my charm. After all, the process of weight loss is very personal and so are the victory celebrations, no? Odd and sometimes downright gross as they are, this is reality. That said, let us continue and don't say you weren't warned.

My plumbing is working just fine, thanks, and I'm so glad. Losing weight is turning out to be more like potty training than I ever thought it would be. Boy am I focused on bodily eliminations, especially in respect to the minutes just prior to my weigh-in. Don't even try to tell me that you aren't completely bummed (snicker at the pun, go ahead!) when you get the urge to go five minutes after you step off the scale. And don't tell me that you aren't sitting there doing your business and wondering exactly how much your business weighs. I do. I freely admit it.

Anyway...like potty trainees, we are focused on our dirty deeds with a concentration that rivals that of professional athletes. Of course, I am a bit of an odd duck all around so I have to start to wonder about whether or not "business time" is the only time that I am actively losing weight. Do I lose weight while I sleep? If I do, where does it go? Doesn't that defy some scientific law, seeing as I'm sure fat doesn't melt and evaporate into thin air?

No, I'm pretty sure that we only lose weight in the bathroom. What a special and hallowed room it is. I think I love the bathroom. More and more every day.

Maybe we lose weight when we exercise, too? Maybe...though those fluids we slake off in the form of sweat do get replaced. I don't know about the scientific soundness of all that, but I do know that even if we do lose weight while exercising, I still think that I like the bathroom method better. Less effort on my part.

Okay, I admit that I am completely laughing inside. Why? Because fifteen minutes from now, this very blog is going to be running laps in your head while you pee! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Fives and Zeros: What I am Going to Miss About My Non-Digital Scale

5/3/2011 2:26 PM

I need to replace my spring-loaded turning-dial type scale. I want a new, digital one that will help me keep track of the pounds down to the 0.1, but I have to admit I'm going to miss Hector (yes, I named it).

Hector's bold fives and zeros have been the face of my weight-loss since last year (prior to that we weren't very close...Hector and I, that is). It is because of him that I think of my weight the same way that most people think about buying a house. Yes, a house...it's all about being in the right neighborhood, you know.

Those fives and zeros (Stay with me here! Fives as in 5, 15, 25, or, in my case, 265, 255, 245. And Zeros as in 260, 250 and so on.) neatly divided up my struggles into manageable sections. I might have weighted 264 in the beginning, but I saw it as "around 265". Likewise, when I got on the scale this morning I had reached the territory of 235. 235! I said 235! Four pounds. Wow.

Anyway...I'im getting side-tracked...

So Hector does have to go. I need accuracy and must be confident that my scale is telling me what I actually weigh. Specifically, I need this to shut up Fatty and Troll. If you don't know who they are, and you really care, you're going to have to read my first and third (I think) blogs.

You probably understand, this is a HUGE deal. Switching scales might mean a gain, which isn't really a gain, but just a more accurate reading. No matter, it will still feel like a gain. Granted, it could also make for an unanticipated loss, but I'm trying to stick with reality at this point. I know it's all in my head, and that the real important thing is how my pants are fitting, but we ALL care about that number. The lower it gets, the more we cherish it. Lets all just admit it!

So, I am bidding farewell to Hector and his fives and zeros. He will always be there in my mind, digital display or not. I will forever think of 227.5 as "around 225" and, thus, feel better about it.

Thank you, Hector, you will be missed my friend!

Wardrobe Diaries: Exactly Which 7 Pounds Did I Lose?

Weight Watchers World: 5/2/2011 1:15 PM

Weigh-In is bright and early tomorrow morning (actually, it will still be dark outside and WI takes place in a bathroom that has no windows, so maybe it doesn't matter?). I am confident that I have lost another pound or so, but for the sake of what is official at the moment, I must state that I have lost 7 pounds, total.

Last week when I put on my pants, I realized exactly which 7 out of my 246 pounds I had lost: the ones that were holding up my pants. Not all my pants, only my gray trouser jeans. They fit perfectly when I bought them at Christmas but last Tuesday, I was nervous to carry anything with me while walking down the hall at work for fear that I wouldn't have a free hand to hike up my drawers. Seriously, it is nothing short of a miricle that I didn't display my panties that day!

It's a good milestone, mostly. The first pair of pants to bite the dust in the wake of my re-emerging figure! Wow!

Honey, leave it to him, pointed out that Weight Watchers was going to cost us a lot more than the prescribed monthly fee. Already, he needs to buy me a new pair of pants.

I suppose it is the quandry of all who endeavor to unload some of their pounds: do I buy clothes that I like, knowing I will not be able to wear them for long, or do I buy cheap, crappy clothes that don't look very nice but, again, I won't have to wear them for very long? I'm leaning towards spending the extra money for things that I like. It's important that I feel good about how I look during the process, not just when I have the "finished" product, right? I think so.

So sometime this week I will be scouring the racks at the singular plus-size store that sells clothes that I like. I will look forward to it much more when I have some selection, but this will do in the meantime. Good thing there is a sale this week!

"Binges" and "Pieholes"

Weight Watchers World: 5/1/2011 5:55 PM

I find that I am changing my vocabulary as my pants get looser. After thinking long and hard about "binges", they just don't seem to fit anymore...kind of like those pants I was talking about.

For me "binge" paints a picture of downing chocolate cake by the light of the refigerator, gobbling Ding Dongs and Ring Dings so fast I can hardly taste them...and maybe eating ice cream until I have to stop because my tongue is so cold that it hurts. No, it's not a pretty picture...downright embarassing, really. That is why binges are usually hidden things. For me, it meant stopping at my favorite fast food drive-thru and ordering enough food so it looked like I was taking it home to a family so that I could sneak around to a remote parking spot at Walmart and consume it all myself.

Did I really just admit to this in a public forum?

I did.

I'm a bit nervous about that, but my saving grace is that I don't do it anymore. At least, I haven't since I started the program. I say all this to get to this point: I am reservng the term "binge" for the behavior I mentioned above. Eating 17 baked tortilla chips instead of the prescribed serving size of 15 is not a binge and therefore should not be served up with binge's traditional side dish: guilt.

Similarly, plowing through my entire weekly point allotment in one holiday meal is not binging, either. Suffice it to say: I should not have felt bad about my 78-point Easter. I should not have thought of it as a "binge" "Binge" discourages me...it tells me that I haven't changed and I'm not in control. Let me tell you...as I traversed the Easter Sunday smorgasboard with my half-cup measure and piled my plate with fat-packed casseroles and even indulged in a Whoopie Pie later...I was not binging. I was having a treat. I was still On Plan and all was A-okay.

Now..."Piehole".

I'm going to bite the bullet on his one and simply erase "Piehole" from my vocabulary. I do not have a special facial portal just for pie. Although my mouth has been the passage for many a slice of apple, chocolate cream, strawberry, ect...it is no more a "piehole" than it is a "broccolihole" or a "lean turkeyhole". In fact, in spite of my current obesity and the nutritional and portion-control crimes that got me into this mess, I can truthfully say that my mouth has chewed on broccoli and lean proteins far more often than it has munched on pie.

Gosh, I feel so much better now that I got all that off my chest!

This is going to be a great week, my friends! Victory, both on the scale and off, is within our grasp! Lets plan our treats and shovel forkfuls of veggies and high-fiber whole grains into our faces!

Little Pig Will and Little Pig Won't

Weight Watchers World: Saturday, April 30, 2011

I have two inner pigs. Pig Will and pig Won't are equally stubborn: Will about the things she will eat and Won't about the things she won't eat. The good news is that they are okay with my change in lifestyle and partnership with Weight Watchers.
Still, On Plan or not, pig Will insists on sweets. Daily. She also gets cranky when she's hungry and is not negotiable when it comes to her consumption of BBQ.

Pig Won't is not going to eat cantalope, sardines, liver or bananas. Never. Not under any circumstances.

(To explain: Cantalope: I want to like it but I just can't. It's a pretty color...I can agree to that. Sardines and liver: do I need a reason? I don't think so. Bananas: I have a very good reason for hating them. It involves yours truly as a poor, defenseless baby, my mother, the inspiration to make home-made baby food, a blender, a bunch of bananas and some leftover liver. Yes, that is another reason for my - er - Won'ts dislike for liver. And I'm not pulling your leg about my mother and the blender.)

But my inner piggies need not worry. Will can have her sweets and BBQ and she doesn't need to worry about heing hungry. Won't doesn't need to fight off nighmares of choking down liver and bananas...again.

I was so thankful this week for the freedom we have in moderation. I didn't need to avoid social situations that would inevitably offer goodies and sweets. I didn't have to abstain, I only needed to keep my head and track what I ate.

Have a great week, everyone! As for me, I'm planning to go out to dinner with Honey and The Boy...and these two giddy piggies!

Twelve and a Half Chocolate Easter Bunnies

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Have you seen my bunnies?

Actually, in honor of Easter I have converted my weight loss to its value in chocolate bunny, so you haven't seen my bunnies and as of my weigh-in yesterday morning, I haven't seen them either.

I did not lose this past week, but I am not disappointed about that. Between the 78 PPs I consumed on Easter Sunday (all my dailies, all remaining weeklies and all but 4 of my activity points!) and the (LATE!) arrival of Aunt Flo (ladies, you know who she is!), I was downright peachy-pleased that I didn't gain. In fact, converting my pounds lost to chocolate bunny loss has served to make me posatively extatic, loss or not!

12 and a half chocolate bunnies.

I spent some time thinking about it. I estimated that this number accounts for just about every Easter at which I received a chocolate bunny. I did have to participate in some fuzzy math, namely involving the fact that I was three the first time I got a basket and until I was ten, my mother managed to eat more of the bunny than I did. Yes, chocolate thievery is hereditary and I shamefully admit to having snitched creamy, sweet morsels from not only The Boy's Easter Basket, but his Halloween candy and other assorted treats as well. To counter my shame, I must proudly point out that for an only child, The Boy is remarkably good at sharing.

I am proud to report that in just four weeks, I have undone the damage of all my childhood chocolate bunnies.

I suppose, however, that this means I am going to have address the impact of the Cadbury Creme Eggs during this coming week. Something tells me those will take a lot longer than the bunnies!

The Bathing Suit: My Anti-Goal (And Fat People are FAST!)

Weight Watchers World:  4/26/2011 1:53 PM

Gosh, I'd love to have a body like a Victoria's Secret model. Who wouldn't? Granted, if I did I wouldn't be letting people take pictures of it and publish it in a internationally-distributed catalog, but that's not the point.

I think I have accepted the fact that even if I get to goal, my body will always bear the scars of obesity and pregnancy. Looking good, or even halfway decent, in a bathing suit is not one of my goals. Wearing a bikini...not on your life...unless I suddenly give my life completely over to vanity and keep a gifted plastic surgeon in my personal employ. And that is not going to happen. Not on this paycheck.

As much as I'd like to climb on a soapbox right now and preach about how my goals are about having more energy and lowering my risk for disease, I have to be honest. I want to look better than this! Living longer is a fringe benefit.

Reconciling my desire to look better with the reality of what my body is capable of...that is the hard part. So, in my own best interest...I have been forced to come up with some non-looking-good-in-a-bathing-suit goals.

Here goes...

Last summer, we bought season passes to a local water park. Honey and The Boy paraded around that place with me without shame. They love me. So, my thighs look like water-logged kitchen sponges, big deal.

I think it had been at least fifteen years and a hundred pounds or more since my last trip down a waterslide. I went down two last summer and learned an incredible lesson: a waterslide is about the only place in the world where FAT = FAST.

The first slide I went on looked tame to me, but that small, winding, completely-enclosed tube was a lot steeper than I thought it was and the interior was completely black. AND there was no need for me to sling myself into its frightening innards with such force. By the time I got to the end, I was like a bedraggled spitwad shooting out the end of a soda straw at 900 miles per hour. The bottoms of my bathing suit were lodged uncomfortably you-know-where and neither of us have been the same since.

It wasn't fun. I was terrified. Water was spraying directly into my face, so breathing wasn't an option and claustrophobia set in after the first nanosecond. I thought I was going to die. I'm sure that if there is a waterslide into that Biblical Lake of Fire, then it will closely resemble that one.

Even after that, my family talked me into another slide. This one, they assured me, was a slow one. They reasoned that it was so slow, they even let you go down head first. I ascended the tower with apprehension, taking courage at last when I saw a small boy passing a loop beneath us. He had to scoot foward on his bottom to avoid coming to a complete standstill. Again, I began my ride with confidence that evaporated like sweat in the desert. Again, I couldn't breathe without inhaling chlorinated water and skidded out the bottom of that slide, hydroplaning twenty feet into the pool before sinking to the bottom in the fetal position.

So: pulling this tale together...goals and bathing suits. My only bathing suit-oriented desire is to be able to ride the waterslides with my family without killing myself or being the fabulous fat lady who can go from 0 to 142 miles per hour in a single turn of the slide. The Boy might think that my "gift" is outrageously cool, but I do not. I don't have to look like an underwear model while doing it and, frankly, do we not know what happens to women who go down waterslides in bikinis?

Really, I'm okay with being asthetically imperfect in this case. I'm not crazy about it, but I can stand it if being at my goal weight means I might have to scootch foward on my bottom in order to get around that first turn on the "slow slide".

Bras and Other Supports

Weight Watchers World: 4/25/2011 2:07 PM

Molded-cup bras used to scare me. In their early days, let's face it: they too closely resembled padded bras and heaven knows, I never needed one of those. I refused to buy one because I was afraid of my underthings becoming obvious to the casual observer.

In all fairness, those of us who are top-heavy are generally more concerned about this since our - um - bounty is front and center and very hard to miss. For some of us, our double blessings enter a room several moments before the rest of us...perhaps that is a slight exaggeration, but it sure feels that way at times!

In light of all this, it is completely unnecessary to attempt to draw additional attention. I cite the inevitable food deposits on the front of my shirt and the magnetic power those leftovers weild upon the eyes as proof. Unmentionables designed for enhancement are just not appealing.

So, I was in a popular plus-size store this past Christmas and there was a sale on bras. I had always been amused and mystified that some 80% of this shops's bra selection was of the molded-cup variety. For Pete's sake, some of those things are large enough to swaddle six-month-old twins, why on earth would a woman in her right mind want to enhance a bust that required nine yards of fabric just for basic coverage?!

Because there are many busty women who knew something I didn't.

You see, bras were on sale that day so, I extracted a seafoam-green molded-cup balconette from the crowded rack and snuck off to a dressing room. The lady in the next room was trying on bras, too, with lots of whoops and hollers. I rolled my eyes silently and wrangled myself into my pick.

I looked in the mirror and was instantly struck full-force in the kisser by a giant epiphany.

Mother Nature is not kind and neither is her primary spawn: Gravity. In fact, Gravity seems to target the girth-challenged in the most undignified manner.

But, there I was: grinning ear to ear and turning like a ballerina in a pink jewelry box. Donning that molded-cup bra was as good as shoving a double-barreled shotgun in Gravity's impish little face. My girls were lifted to regions so far North that I don't think they'd been that high since I hit puberty. I'd looked so disproportionate for so long with my poor girls looking like they were trying to hide my belly button. Those molded cups not only didn't make me look huge, they actually made all of me look smaller.

Just like that I was shrieking and trading recommendations with the nutty lady in the next room as we ransacked the clearance section.

Bottom line: support is vital. This is true of both bras and Weight Watchers. Sometimes our support comes from places we don't expect. However, there is one major difference here that I would like to point out:

While we all need support in our weight-loss, we frankly shouldn't need a cheering section to keep us On Plan. Our support is there for when we need it, which shouldn't be every day (unlike our bras). If we are relying on our families to keep us motivated, steer us clear of temptations, eat things they don't like and rejoice over the .1 pounds we lost every single day, then please know that we are expecting waaaay too much.

We are making the decision to change our lifestyle. Not to change theirs to the same extent without their consent.

Let's be independent, my friends! Work with our families so that their support is there for our tough days and pull on our big girl panties for the rest of the time! We can do this! Lets remember that everyone needs support, but that even if we are technically in a wheelchair, we all have our "own two feet" to stand on! Don't expect others to become your legs and your willpower. We might be weak, but we won't get stronger without practice!

Taking My Medicine

4/24/2011 7:02 PM

I have spent thirty three years trying to do a lot of things. Among those: avoiding sweat.

Even during periods of time when I was active and fit, my exercise of choice was swimming. Yes, you sweat when you swim (a rather gross concept that I advise you avoid thinking about) but being surrounded by cool water, you don't notice it as much.

Even now that I am On Plan, I wouldn't be exercising except for one thing: I have to. Yes, I have to. I work for an institution that employs nearly 6,000 people. Since I have been at my job for under a year, I am still a peon in the eyes of the Great Parking Authority. Translation: it is exactly a mile from the closest "legal" parking space allowed by my permit to my chair. A mile. One way. I measured it. Yup.

That is two miles per day, plus another mile worth of errands. And I hate it. I hate every step. As the ninty plus degree days of the Texas Summer are already here, hiking to the car gets tougher. By the time I get to my vehicle at the end of the day, I'm huffing like a waterbuffalo in labor and the condition of my backside rivals that of a few landmark swamps. It is not a pretty site and it does not improve as get the air conditioning going in my car while sitting on leather seats that have been absorbing the heat all day.

It has been theraputic to whine about the discomfort, so I hope that you at least found it amusing. Maybe someday I will find a method of sweat-production that I enjoy. Until then, I will have to suffer through my hikes to and from the parking lot and reap the benefits of the forced marches every Tuesday morning at weigh-in.

Go ahead, you can pity me!

On Avoiding "Healthy Lifestyle Snobbage"

4/22/2011 11:55 AM

I have been blessed with some great relationships. Of course, I had to work, sweat and sacrifice for them, but they are worth it. Why should I expect my realtionship with food to be any different?

At the top of my list of reasons why food and I have been so disfunctional is the entire concept of "All Or Nothing" and the self-loathing that goes along with the inevitable failure. The rest of said list is filled with misconceptions and self-deceptions along the lines of: "Since frozen yogurt is better for me than ice cream, I should be able to eat a half gallon of it every day and still lose weight." and "I don't want to start I diet because I won't be able to eat any of the foods that I like."

So, I am armpit-deep in challenging every item on that list and having a wonderful time doing it.

However, I am often shocked over the gap that is widening between my food choices and those of my family. I find myself frequently having to resist the urge to gawk at the frivilous, oblivious sorts of things that once had me tipping the scales at 264 and straining the zippers of my size 24 jeans.

A few nights ago I was making breakfast tacos for dinner (see "Pound Wise and Flour Tortilla Foolish", if you are not sure what those are!). I carefully determined the whole-to-egg-white ratio for minimum PPs and maximum yum, and measured low-fat sharp cheddar, salsa and Baked Doritos (Yes, Doritos...and don't knock it till you try it!). Then I sweetly smiled at Honey and asked him to tend to the center-cut bacon.

I was preoccupied with whether I had put too much salsa in the mix for the scramble to congeal, so I didn't notice when Honey finished the bacon and wandered off to the pantry. I did notice, however, when he returned with four slices of Texas toast and plopped them in the pan with the hot bacon grease.

"What are you doing?!"
Honey looked at me like I had surely lost half of my IQ while he was fetching bread.

I realized my mistake immediately. I knew what he was thinking: "Just because you've turned into a food snob, doesn't mean you can make that choice for me." How many times had I experienced "Fatty Paranoia", thinking people were judging me for what was on my plate or in my shopping cart? Granted, sometimes I was imagining it, but sometimes I wasn't. Even when it came from well-meaning people who loved me, it didn't help; it didn't make me want to make a change in my lifestyle.

So, I said nothing more as Honey proceeded to allow that bread to soak up every drop of grease in the pan and consume them along with his 6-point tacos. I was truly horrified, but I was careful not to look down my nose while savoring my two tacos and, honestly, wondering what on earth those fat-soaked slabs tasted like.

Honey turned 38 last weekend. He's always been fit, but within the last couple years, the pounds have crept on. He is a builder, so he is active all day long and he understands during his afternoons, that his ability to work hard is directly related to what he puts in his body at lunch. If he eats what he packs (healthy sandwich, applesauce, a yogurt, pretzes and water) he can get a lot done and feel good. If he eats out, allows a customer to provide lunch or even has Subway, lethargy sets in and lunch occupies his stomach like a block of lead for hours. If he has soda or sweet tea, he might as well pack up and go home early. The afternoon is a loss.

Still, in the evenings and on weekends, that understanding goes out the window often enough to be having an impact on his waistline. Maybe someday he'll join me On Plan. He's toyed with the idea a time or two. In the meantime, he has his own "list" to cope with and he doesn't need me looking down my nose at him from my perch in Weight Watcher's bliss.

Ostriches, Turtles and My Electronic Conscience

Weaight Watchers World, 4/21/2011 8:44 AM

When you start changing your lifestyle, you inevitably encounter many "firsts". Some of them are good (first pound lost, first triumph over temptation) and some are not so good (the first "turtle" week, the first experience with "fiber faarrttssss"). I had a "first" last night that I'm going to blab about.

It involved a very hungry me, making dinner. I wandered into the pantry to get items for my health-full dinner and was attacked by the Horrible Hungries. If you don't know who they are, don't worry, you will soon enough. They are powerful and they show up the first day that you forget to plan your snacks! I'm ashamed to report that their ambush was successful...mostly. I downed two fudge-smothered mashmallow-graham cookies (I had one, then realised the package stated the serving size was "2 cookies" and thought...well it would be easier to just enter the info in my tracker right off the package rather than having to divide by two...and atethe other half of the "serving") and immediately needed something salty. I didn't want chips. I didn't want pretzles. My eye was only for the croutons...yes, the unopened bag of onion and garlic croutons.

My saving grace, as I desperately crammed crunchy, fat-laden morsels into my mouth, was that I glanced at the nutritional information on the back of the package and I counted two servings of six as I crunched away.

You might be thinking "Aww, that's a terrible "first" to have, honey" but, that's not the "first" I'm getting at. I'm thankful that it is the first time I've had my collective tushy kicked by the Horrible Hungries while On Plan, but you and I both know that the real challenge isn't fighting off the HH's. The real challenge is putting your food folly in the durn tracker and telling the whole, dirty truth!

As I sat in front of my computer last night, tallying up the day, most of my healthy, nutritious choices were already entered and accounted for. Most of them (remember, I'm a planner) had been entered at the beginnig of the week when I worked out what was for dinner each night and what my lunch choices would be. It was getting down to the bottom and that little tracking section labeled "Anytime".

And I wanted to lie.

Lie to myself, to my Fairy Weight Watcher, to my husband and my son and my mother and my boss...and I could have. But the one person we can never lie to is the scale; the dirty rat; the tattletale who ALWAYS tells the truth.

And the truth: I had made several unwise food choices that day that caused me to go over my dailies and use a couple weeklies, but I was still On Plan. I was still on my way to another loss at the end of the week. I could still do it. Yet the temptation to cheat a little and tally up a perfect 38-point day was present and demanding satisfaction.

I didn't give in, and that was no small victory. I'm not going to do Weight Watchers the same way I did "Gaining Weight": ostrich-style. Sticking my head in the perverbial sand doesn't make the croutons melt from my thighs. It also doesn't help me learn what to put in my mouth and what to put in the trash or leave on the shelf instead.

That food tracker has become one with my conscience. I can't lie to myself, therefore I can't lie to the tracker. Fairy Weight Watcher knows all, anyway so what's the use. The first time I have a gain or a "turtle", I want to be able to look back at my Truthful Food Tracker and find those croutons! My newest "rule" is this: if it is going to show up on the scale as either a loss or a gain or anything else, it had better show up on my durn tracker! No exceptions!

Fat is Self-Explanatory

I am not above putting a bit of spin on things when it serves my purpose. Fat has been one of those things until now.

Kidding myself about why I was fat became an event of near-Olympic proportions prior to Weight Watchers, if I am to be truthful. The things I said to myself are the same things you would expect to hear from the losing Super Bowl team in the locker room after the game as they try to save face among swarms of reporters.

I just don't want to lose weight bad enough.

Starting is the hard part.

I failed to capitalize on the three pounds I lost last time I had the stomach flu. Guess I'll wait until the next time I have a tapeworm or something.

I didn't get caught up in the swoosh...you know...you can't start a diet without momentum.

My fat is dense fat, not - uh - undense fat, so it will be harder to lose.

I'm fat even though I don't eat a lot.

My word! How much energy did I expend just trying to give people the impression that I didn't overeat?! You all have heard about my drive-thru shenanigans already. How about this one:

I remember turning down a burger at a BBQ once and stating that I didn't eat red meat...AS IF that might make people think "Gosh, she doesn't even eat red meat! She must have a Thyroid issue, because people who eat healthy like that ought to be skinny."

Really. And I said the bit about not eating red meat while perched precariously on the edge of a lawn chair, trying to look as small as possible...or at least not big enough to crush the flimsy thing right into the overmowed grass. And the truth was that I had "quit" eating red meat that morning and after drooling over everyone else's burgers, I stopped at McDonalds on the way home and started eating red meat again. But hey, I had eyes that needed some wool pulled over them when it came to my weight gain...

I thought I was fooling everyone else. The only one I was really fooling was myself.

And the "everyone else" I cared so much about impressing? They were either too concerned with themselves to notice, lovingly wishing I'd get my act together, or looking at me like I must be nuts to try so hard to look like a skinny girl unfairly swallowed up by a fatty.

To this day, I still catch myself thinking:

At least I'm tall so 248 pounds doesn't look as bad on me as it would on a shorter person. I wear it well, I think.

I only think this when there isn't a mirror around.

But, my fat is self-explanatory. As much as I try to kid myself, it is. It doesn't matter why I ate all the things that still linger on the backs of my thighs. Knowing might help me avoid pitfalls, but the one and only thing that really matters when it gets down to pounds and ounces is that I STOP.

And I have. For the most part. And I don't say that to "spin" my failures into a pretty picture. I have redefined what a failure is, though, and that's not spin either. Dipping into my weeklies by lunch on day one of my week is not failure. It is life. Consuming points when my daily, weekly and activity poitns are all used up is a problem, but still not a failure. Failure will be only when I give up. When I stop tracking. When I depart from blessed reality and start kidding myself again.

And we all know...I'm not going there!

I'd like to thank my 26 "followers" from Weight Watchers World for bearing with! This is the first "original"
post to this blog. Right now I'm operating on both fronts as I try to get every thing from WW World transferred here! Thanks for putting up with the repeated posts!

Pound Wise, Flour Tortilla Foolish

4/20/2011 2:00 PM

So, you've heard that saying "Pound wise and penny foolish"? What on earth is that supposed to mean, anyway? Maybe it is ancient wisdom concerning the correlation between weight and money? Or perhaps it is a saying that needs the exchange rate between America and the UK to be applied? I give up.

No matter, I'd like to believe that following Weight Watchers has made me pound-wise...as in: I'm wise about taking off pounds. My current trouble has to do with being from Texas. You know, Texas: that magical land where everything is better once you snuggle it in a warm flour tortilla.

Really.

Your breakfast of bacon and eggs? Honey, pile it into a tortilla and it's a breakfast taco. You can get them at any one of our millions of Tex-Mex holes-in-the-walls. They are yummy.

Have a hot dog? Who needs the kind of bread-to-dog ratio that you get with a bun?! Slap the weiner into a tortilla and enjoy!

Barbecue? Tortillas!

Pot roast? Tortillas!

Meatloaf? Tortillas!

Salad? Tortillas!

Heck, we even put fish in tortillas! We have tortilla SOUP and we LIKE it. A lot.

There are complications, though. Namely, too many tortillas and I get a little light-headed, forget how many I've eaten and start adding them to my meals like carb-laden condiments gone awry. Those suckers add up, too! The best-for-you ones are 2 points each!

But, in moderation, I love these things. And, if you must eat a hot dog, save points on the bun with the tortilla idea. Just do it.

Come to think of it...I'm' making Coconut Curry Shrimp for dinner tonight...I BET that would be great in a tortilla...

 

******************************************************************************

 

Back in Weight Watcher World, where this was originally posted last month, I did get a comment asking which flour tortillas I had found that only cost 2 points. The Answer:

 

Mission Medium-Sized Carb Balance Flour Tortillas.

 

At over $4.00 a package, they are expensive...worth it?  You decide.

Food Obsessions: Thinking About the F-Word in 3-D

Food! (It really does feel like I'm cussing when I say it some times!)

It is the hubby's birthday on Sunday. Thus, I have a cake to bake and frost and (hopefully not) consume in oversized portions. I am officially obsessing about this...which got me thinking.

Is obssessing over food a bad thing? When you say a person obssesses over food, instantly a picture of a woman overflowing the banks of her jeans comes to mind. At least, that's what I think of. But, I'm wrong.

My shape at the moment resembles a certain curvaceous purple dinosaur that I happen to hate, but I did not get this way by obssessing over food. I got this way by ignoring a vital part of what food is; by thinking about food in 2-D. 2-D as in: Food as a Social Element and Food as Taste.

Food as a Social Element:
I LOVE going out to dinner...I love restaurants: the ambiance, the bustle, the decor, the presentation, the lady at the next table with the gold Pandora bracelet and the Hermes bag! EEK!! I also adore being waited on and taking a night off from cooking (even though I like cooking). It is an adventure to be able to try things that I would never attempt to cook and explore other cultures and people through food. I also happen to really like being with the people with whom I tend to go out to dinner a lot.

Of course, there is the backyard barbecue, the Pampered Chef Party, the Candle Party, the Mary Kay Party, Birthday, Anniversary, Engagement! Retirement! Baby Shower! Wedding Shower! PARTY! PARTY! PARTY! Any get-together where there are friends, family, coworkers, people I haven't met yet...we all know it just wouldn't be a party without food. Personally speaking, I love my friend Priscilla's parties because there is always something wrapped in bacon and a homemade cake.

Food as Taste:
Oh, taste...if I started talking to you about how I FEEL about taste, you'd all be running the nearest bakery or creamery or candy shoppe in two seconds flat and I would feel terrible because, well, we are all here because we REALLY shouldn't do that! Out of all my five senses, it is taste that has expanded my girth and forced me to shop at a single clothing store. Taste has caused me a lot of trouble, but I have to admit, it is a love-hate sort of relationship!

The Third Dimension:
Food as an Element of Health. Fuel!

It's uncharted territory in my life as yet. Only when I am OnPlan do I ever consider the third dimension. Only. Ever. Yup.

It's sad and slightly scary because, well, it is at least as important as the other two, and in many cases, moreso. There is nothing wrong with the first two dimensions, friends. Nothing at all. But, when Food as an Element of Our Health gets lost between our belly rolls (Come on, admit you have all "lost" things in your belly rolls! Crumbs? Earrings? The pendant of your necklace? Eating utensils? Coutertop appliances? Furniture? Small children? What, I'm the only one? Geez!), that's when we need WW to help us regain our focus and lose our flab. There is a balance that we need to find between the three.

Like I said, I have a cake to obssess over this weekend. And I will obssess completely. When that birthday party arrives, I am going to carefully cut into that cake. I might even weigh my slice, just to be sure I didn't take too much. I will not feel guilty or strange for my fixation, in fact, as time goes on I will only feel lighter. I must obssess for now...and maybe forever. Maybe someday it will be second nature, maybe not.

So, obssess away, my comrades in shrink! Do it! Think of food in 3-D and know that this weekend, I am with you: obssessing, fixating, focusing, weighing, measuring and...come Tuesday morning...I will be reaping the rewards of losing pounds.

It's All in My Head and I Did Not Eat an Entire Half Gallon of Ice Cream All By Myself!

While I was in the checkout line at the grocery store last night, the lady in front of me gave me a dirty look.

Immediately, paranoia grabbed me by the double chin and screamed: "She just saw that half gallon of Blue Bell Dutch Chocolate Ice Cream go down the belt and she can't believe someone as fat as you has the nerve to buy that and eat the whole thing yourself!"

Truth is, I'd been staring at the ice cream, vowing not to eat a single serving and wondering why my insensative Honey had chosen to put it in the cart to begin with. I projected my thoughts onto the lady in front of me, assuming that she was judging me for my purchase. I hate to admit it, but there was an impulse there to try to explain why I was buying that delicious carton of cream, fatty temptation; that it wasn't for me, that I wasn't even going to taste it.

A moment later, she turned around again, evil glare afixed. Just as I was about to punch her in the nose and shout that it was none of her business if I ate the whole durn thing, she cocked her head to one side, looked right past me and started to talk to a man, her husband I suppose, who was handing her some item that he had gone back to get.

She hadn't been giving me a dirty look at all. She'd been looking for her hubby and the - a-HEM - package of COOKIES he'd gone back to get! *facepalm* I'd been a victim of Fatty Paranoia yet again.

Someday maybe I'll learn that people aren't looking at my ample rear end thinking about how desperately I need to diet, they are probably just as concerned that someone is looking at their ample rear end thinking about how desperately they need to diet.

What I should have done last night was give that lady a big smile and plan to measure out a half cup of that ice cream and track it as soon as I got home!

The Troll Under My Bridge Is Talking To Me...

I think we all have a personal troll. It's that inner cynic who icks on mywow and tries to make me question my success.

Mine is male, for some reason...I'd really like to know why...and at the moment these are the things he is saying:

You didn't really lose your first five pounds, your scale is broken.

Your scale is broken because you have stretched and squashed its poor little innards by piling you and your excess adipose tissue on top of it.

The stretch marks on your belly are going to look like a rumpled, flesh-colored grass skirt after losing all that weight anyway.

This is just going to be like every other time you said you'd change for good.

The new Points Plus System won't work for you.

So, some of those are probably true only to me, but you KNOW you've heard YOUR troll say a few of those to you before!

These trolls are not happy little guys, I'm sure you can tell. They are sarcastic, evil little monsters. IF ONLY the things they said were whisked from our minds like a fart in a tornado; drowned beneath the deluge of possitive thinking and zealous celebrations on the scale at weigh-in.

I've decided that it isn't a problem that I have a troll. And it isn't a problem that I really do hear him talking to me (I'm not crazy, really). The content of what he has to say isn't the issue, either. The problem is when I make a habit out of listening to him; when I choose to believe what he is saying over what my weight-loss buddies tell me and what reall successes tell me.

So, in addition to beating the tar outta my inner fatty, I guess I'm also going to have to burn the bridge under which that little goblin resides.

The Sandwich On Your Plate May Be Fatter Than It Appears

Written by sazzyfreckles on 4/12/2011 10:00 AM

The sub-title for this post is: "Thank God For Weekly Points Allowances!"

So, I'm a planner. I LOVE planning my menus: snacks, dinners...the PointsTracker was MADE for people like me! My grocery list is organized, printed off the computer and I cross items off as I put them in the cart. That list also has the dinners for the week listed at the top.

Naturally, when I got on plan with Weight Watchers, I planned. Planned. Planned. Planned. Planned. Planned. And, naturally, this past Saturday night when I was for the first time among a group of people who were trying to figure out where to go grab dinner before a show, I panicked. While they were throwing restaurant names around like hot potatoes, I was breaking a sweat. I hadn't planned ahead! I hadn't gone online and studied the nutritional information for any of the places they were naming! I hadn't figured ahead of time what I was going to order and exactly how many points I was going to spend! There might be a bread basket or, worse, chips and salsa!

We settled on an establishment which shall remain nameless. Suffice it to say, it offers an assortment of sandwiches, bakery items, soups and salads and had great coffee. Initially, I was relieved. I though: sandwiches CANNOT be that "expensive". So, thinking that I had way yonder more points than I needed, I not only had a sandwich, but I had the little bag of chips, too.

Imagine my surprise...no, shock...no, horror...four hours later when I finally got home and made a mad dash for the restaurant website. The price tag for my meal of a sandwich and chips topped 25 points!

Let me tell ya, I was thanking my Fairy Weight Watcher for those weekly points that I thought i'd never use!

Seriously, though, it taught me something. Food is not always what it appears. The sandwich that I thought SURELY must be a good food choice, was far from it.

In contrast, was our dinner out from the previous night. The build-your-own-meal, grilled-in-your-face restaurant (which shall also remain nameless) was a pleasant surprise in the nutritional category. Granted, I had been able to investigate that dining experience and plan ahead using their handy online meal calculator before leaving the house, bit still! For fewer points than that dirty little sandwich and chips, I had two HUGE plates of food, it was DELISH, I left STUFFED and I still was able to get on the scale this morning and see three more pounds bite the dust. Now, I don't recommend stuffing yourself and I probably could have stopped halfway through the second plate, but my point is this:

Plan ahead. Look up the nutritional information at a place that you are so sure is a good choice. You might be surprised. Also, check into some places that you assume would be a dieter's nightmare. Again, you might be surprised. I was.

Look! Ankles!

LOOK AT MY ANKLES!

No, seriously...they are actually distinguishable from my shins and calves. Dang it, they are bony and I can see tendons and...come to think of it, that's kinda gross.

Y'all get what I mean, though, right? It's got to be all that water I'm drinking and the fact that I have not eaten something greasy and salty in a week.

Actually, the swollen ankles have been less of a problem for me in the last two years. Right now, I have ZERO puffiness, but let me tell you...

Two years ago my hubby and I packed up our house and our kiddo and moved 2,000 miles to Texas. (LOVE TEXAS!) Anyway, at the same time we inadvertently gave up drinking soda. We didn't intend to, and I'd been thumbing my nose at anyone who wanted to tell me about Aspartame eating holes in the brains of mice for years, but we just stopped buying it. Up until that point, I think I was drinking up to 6 cans of diet, caffine-free cola a day.

I still want to know how much Aspartame they were feeding those poor holey-brained rodents, but it's the carbonation that seems to have changed my life. As soon as I stopped drinking soda, the ankles stopped swelling.

POOF!

Yep, just like that.

Of course, puffiness is just a few sips away at any time, but as long as I don't think about the tendons moving around under my pale white skin, I kinda like having ankles again!

Sazzy vs. The Chicken Skin

Okay, so the hubby and son left me alone in the kitchen to take the meat off a rotisserie chicken.

Alone with the crispy, golden skin.

It was calling my name.

I swear, the lights dimmed, a disco ball lowered slowly from the ceiling and I heard Barry White start to sing. Then the chicken began to dance seductively, waving delicious strips of skin under my nose.....

At which point I desperately crammed a piece of gum in my mouth, pulled the plug on ole Barry, stabbed the chicken right through the breast and counted a HUGE victory for myself and Weight Watchers!

Seriously, my husband and I used to race to see who could get at the skin first. Not any more!

Why You Will Like It

I've always been a fatty inside.

As a teenager, I was reasonably slender but never fit into the "skinny" mold. Because of this, my self-perception gave birth to what I will call my "Inner Fatty" Fatty has grown and developed over time into quite the disagreeable monster.

Now, after getting married I put on weight. Lots of weight. A hundred pounds, to be exact. I became exactly what I'd believed I was since childhood: a Fatty.

For the last twelve years the Inner Fatty has been smuggly whispering in my ear that I'm always going to be this way because this is who I really am.

In January of 2010, I punched Inner Fatt in the eye, dug out my old WW materials and decided that I was not going to be fat at my 40th birthday party. I was 32 and, yes, I am REALLY into planning ahead. So, looking eight years down the road I decided that if I lost just 25 pounds a year and let myself put 5 of it back on during the holidays, I could lose 100 pounds in five years. I proceded to lost my first 25 in 2010.

Now, here we are in April, 2011. I kept off the 20 I vowed to keep off and it's time to punch Inner Fatty in the other eye.

I've signed up for WW online and LOVE IT! While my five-year plan was a good one, it's time to go for broke. Honestly, losing the first 20 was too easy and I'm not afraid of challenges. If I can have that 100 pounds gone by 35, why not?!

In just my first week, I lost two pounds and realized that Inner Fatty has been lying to me all these years!

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Many of my posts are going to be about weight-loss. So, if you are thinking about shedding pounds yourself, you you like to point and laugh at those of us who are, read on.

I joined Weight Watchers at the end of March and started using their blogging tool there. I found it quite helpful to catalog my journey that way, so it upset me to realize that if I were to ever discontinue my membership, all of those posts would be lost. As a writer who hopes to be published someday, I also wanted to expand my horizons in the form of a blog that could be read by anyone with internet access instead of just people who pay eighteen bucks a month for an online Weight Watchers membership. Above is my first post from the WW website. Hope you enjoyed...but I think it is the most boring thing I've ever posted. I wrote it thinking that it had to be some kind of requirement to fill readers in on how I ended up so...expanded.

I do promise that there will be posts that delve into other topics, but at the moment, my life is largely dictated by points, baggy pants and fending off cravings. There will be recipes, to be sure. And a few rants. Hope you enjoy the ride and I will LOVE YOU FOREVER if you bother to leave a comment or follow my blog.