The Diet Naked Blog

The Bra and the Measuring Tape

I told myself I didn't have to run anymore until my new sports bra arrived.  I'd ordered an Enell bra on recommendation of a commenter here and it arrived within two days.  Alas, it didn't fit.  (Too big!  Ha!  That was pretty funny, considering that I only thought bras came in size "too small for me.")  Anyway, I returned it, asking for the next smaller size.

And that was when I said, "Until that bra comes, I'm  not running anymore."  And so, I used an exercise bike instead.  (I was not feeling very well that day, either, and couldn't stand the idea of running.)

Yesterday, as I waited for my husband to get home, I thought, Oh, goody, no running since that bra hasn't arrived.  And as I stood in the driveway chatting with my friend, the UPS truck drove up.  And the guy handed me the little yellow package and I knew I'd have to run again.

No more excuses.

Fifteen laps is a mile at my YMCA.  I ran the first seven laps, telling myself I couldn't, didn't want to, wouldn't . . . but I did.  Then, I walked three laps and ran three and walked the last two.  So, I ran ten out of fifteen laps.  And I have to report that the sports bra really did a terrific job of supporting me.  I felt quite comfortable.

*  *  *

Do you measure yourself?  I haven't been a big fan of the measuring tape because it's so easy for me, as a squishy woman, to kid myself.  Pull that measuring tape a tad tighter and fool yourself into thinking you lost half an inch.  And if you measure ten different areas, you can add up the fractions of inches and fool yourself into thinking you're making progress, when really it's not so much.

But, I have to admit that a month ago, on September 25, I spontaneously whipped out the measuring tape and measured my bust, waist, thigh and hips.  I scrawled the numbers on my bathroom calendar on that date.  By then, I'd been exercising every day on my recumbent bike for ten days. 

Two and a half weeks later, I started working out at the YMCA in addition to my at-home cardio.  Two weeks after that, on September 27, I remembered to measure myself again.  As I wrapped the tape around me, I grimaced at the measurements.  I remember when my waist used to hover between 28 and 30 inches!  (And then, as a teenager, I thought I was fat!  Ha!) 

So, my 42-inch waist and my 44-inch bust measurements didn't impress me.  (I told you I was an apple!)    Until I looked back on the calendar and realized that I lost two inches from my bust, an inch from my waist, an inch and a half from my hips and a half inch from my thigh.  So, from those four areas, I lost five inches in a month.  (In that same time period, I've lost "only" 4.6 pounds.)

I'm aiming for at least a 34-inch waist, so I have much more work to do.  So, I'll keep the measuring tape near the bathroom and use it once a month, just to see my progress.  And I'll add an extra set of sit-ups.  Or two.

True Confession

Last October, almost a year ago, I started a Super Secret Blog.  I was fat and miserable and I couldn't seem to find a solution to my misery.  I knew why I was fat--in fact, I titled the blog, 100 Reasons I'm Fat.  My plan was to blog anonymously--I even created an anonymous email address and an anonymous Blogger account.  I thought I'd list one hundred reasons I was fat and hopefully, by the time I listed the reasons, I'd have cured the problem. 

(And then, Oprah would call to ask my secret and I'd say, "Well, I started this blog . . . " and me and my blog would become famous and voila!  Me, no longer fat!  And on Oprah!  And I'd become Oprah's New Best Friend--sorry, Gayle--and she'd give me a new car and invite me to live in her guest room and I'd live happily ever after.)

Only, I couldn't even post every day.  I vowed to give up french fries on the blog and then I failed because the next time we went through the drive-thru, my vow completely slipped my mind.

By February, I wrote:

"Despising the Body I'm Living In 

Seriously. What is wrong with me? I am full of loathing, promises about tomorrow, disgust."

And then, silence.  Eerie silence, the silence of the embarrassed and humiliated and distraught.  My other blog, Actual Unretouched Photo, never mentioned my weight.  I struggled alone, too ashamed for words.

I knew what to do.  Eat less.  Move more.  But what sounds so simple is not easy when you are circling and dizzy.

So what was the moment of change?  I've mentioned before that when I saw a photograph at my grandmother's 100th birthday party I was shocked. This was me?  I was that fat?  And so, slowly, I began to stop spinning. 

I didn't move forward yet . . . the photograph-epiphany happened in March.  By April, I was preparing for my first step.  I researched diets, came up with a low-glycemic index plan for eating, ordered a book, read it.  I picked a start date.  Then, ClubMom asked me to pick a topic and I chose "dieting."  Now, I had no choice.

The thing is, the distance between the solid skinny-shore and the rickety fat-boat where I sat was only inches, even though it seemed miles.  All I had to do was hop from "I can't do this, I hate myself" to "I'm making a change, watch me do this."  Just hop! 

But denial of the truth, terror of change, and isolation kept me stuck in a terrible cycle of overeating and inertia.  I could see the shore, but I couldn't get a foot onto the muddy ground.  I'd stand in the fat-boat, but then it would wobble and I'd collapse onto the seat and give up.  Over and over again.

Then the day came that I promised myself I'd start.  I didn't even look back or nibble at the leftover Easter bunnies.  I just hopped out of the fat-boat and that was that.  I was ready to jump and I did. 

Speaking the truth, admitting the truth and keeping promises to myself helped me jump onto the shore and begin my journey.  The fact that I was no longer anonymous should have scared me silly, but instead, it set me free. 

That fat boat was heading nowhere but in circles.  I, however, am on solid ground, on a quest to better health and smaller pants.  If I can do it, you can, too. 

(Yes, next time, I ought to pick a better background for a photograph, not to mention cuter pants.  I know.)

Official Thursday Weigh-In

Today I weighed 182.8, for a total loss of 43.6 pounds (so far!). 

How about you?

My Crockpot Rocks!

I love using my Crockpot to prepare dinner.  A few weeks ago, I went through my Fix-It and Forget-It Lightly cookbook and picked out a dozen recipes I thought my family would eat.  The recipes in this book are not specifically low-glycemic index recipes, but they are "healthy, low-fat recipes," so I adapt them so I can also eat what I cook for my family.

When I went to a potluck recently, I cooked "Noodleless Lasagna" from this book.  Here is the recipe:

Noodleless Lasagna

1 1/2 pounds fat-free ground turkey

1 1/2 cups meat-free spaghetti sauce

8 ounces sliced mushrooms

1 1/2  cups fat-free ricotta cheese

1 egg, beaten

1 cup grated part-skim grated mozzarella cheese, divided

1 1/2 t. Italian seasoning

10 slices turkey pepperoni

*  *  * 

1)  Brown ground turkey in skillet.

2)  Add spaghetti sauce and mushrooms and mix with meat.

3)  Pour half of turkey mixture into slow cooked sprayed with nonfat cooking spray.

4)  In a small bowl, mix together ricotta cheese, egg, 1/4 cup mozzarella, and Italian seasoning.  Beat well with fork.

5)  Lay half of pepperoni slices on top of turkey mixture.

6)  Spread half of cheese mixture over pepperoni.

7)  Repeat layers, finishing by sprinkling the remaining cheese on top.

8)  Cover.  Cook on low 4-5 hours.

Makes four servings.  Per serving:  480 calories.

If you like using your Crockpot (and really, you should use one, even if you are home all day--it's so nice to have dinner cooking while you are dealing with your afternoon routine), consider investing in this book.  All the recipes I've used so far have been delicious and nutritious.  (Tonight?  Ground turkey soup, which involves not only ground turkey, but also chopped up carrots, celery, onions, canned diced tomatoes and kidney beans.)

Since I made a menu, created a shopping list and actually bought the ingredients for the recipes I plan to make, dinner-time has been so much easier around here.  When my husband calls to say, "Can I bring something home?" I am so happy I can tell him, "No, I have dinner already cooking."

(Don't even ask, but yes, it's true.  I used to just wander through the store, picking up stuff that looked good and items on sale and hope I'd be able to throw together a meal somehow.  Dumb, yes, but that was my plan:  fly by the seat of my extra-extra-large pants.  Think there was a connection between the size of my pants and my lack of meal-time planning?  Uh, yeah.)

We Are Not Alone

If you're like me, you react with glee with you see that someone famous gained weight.  (Or maybe that's just me, in which case, yes, I am ashamed of myself.)  I mean, it's sick, but really, isn't that the real reason we want to see pictures of famous people's newborns?  We don't care about the baby.  We just want to see how fat the famous mom became.  (Again, maybe that's just me.)

Anyway, this is the first year I've watched Celebrity Fit Club on VH1.  Research, you know, for this blog.  And sure, I was like, "Oh, my gosh, Erika Eleniak is fat?"  (Yes, so tremendously fat that her starting weight was pretty close to my goal weight, but let's not quibble.) 

Celebrity Fit Club 4 shows that celebrities are just like us . . . sometimes they get fat and the solution is to exercise more and eat less.  Big newsflash, huh?

I spent a lot of time pondering their weigh-ins.  How could they choose such heavy clothing--and shoes!-- when they knew they were being weighed?  (When I used to do Weight Watchers, I would choose my most lightweight clothing and always, always, always remove my shoes.)  I finally worked it out to my satisfaction and decided they must weigh beforehand in appropriate clothing, sans shoes--but they aren't told their actual weight.  That light-up thing is not really a scale, but just a platform.  At least that's my theory.

I also watched (for the first time ever) The Biggest Loser over on NBC.  I missed almost the first half, though, because I thought it started at 9 p.m. and I wasn't home when it started.  Alas.

Watching real people struggle with weight loss inspired and encouraged me.  Dieting can make you feel like the only person on the planet who is not going through the McDonald's drive-thru for fries.  But we are not alone!  Over there on the left sidebar, you can see over 170 names of people determined to Diet Naked.  Tune in on Wednesdays at 8 p.m. (Pacific) to watch The Biggest Loser and be encouraged.  You can even join the club. 

I'll have to tape it because on Wednesdays I'll be at the YMCA becoming a Big Loser myself.

Plan Ahead and Have a Plan

Yesterday afternoon, we headed over to our friends' home to play Pickleball and have dinner.  My personal Pickleball playing was limited to returning my 4-year old daughter's lobs and chasing the balls she hit when it rolled under the cars.  My husband, his friend and our hosts have an ongoing Pickleball match.  They've been playing once a week for a few weeks and had a score to settle. 

But that's not the point of this post. 

The point of this post is that we were invited to dinner--"we'll barbecue," the hosts said and for a moment, fear gripped my heart.  What would I eat, especially since I wasn't bringing a dish to share?

Now, this situation did not allow me to plan ahead.  I had virtually no warning that we'd be going over to this lovely home.  So, in this case where I could not plan ahead, I had a plan. 

My plan involved making the best choices possible.  They served hamburgers and hot dogs.  I chose a burger.  But I said, "No bun for me, thanks."  I served myself lettuce with a few dribbles of dressing (I checked the label to make sure it had very little sugar).  That filled more than half my plate.  Then I added a few orange slices, a slice of avocado and a slice of nectarine.  I ignored the potato salad and the potato chips.  I turned down a sugary drink.  I ate slowly and enjoyed the conversation. 

When ice cream was served, I was full and I easily rejected it.  ("No, thanks.")

Now, the old fat me would have justified eating along with everyone else.  I wouldn't have wanted to appear odd and I wouldn't have wanted to draw any attention to myself.  Plus, I wouldn't want to deprive myself, especially if no one else was.  In the fat days, I didn't plan ahead and I certainly didn't have a plan.

Last night, when I got home, I climbed my exercise bike and chose an interval program which was really, really hard.  (I've been using the "fat-burning" program until now and boy, did that new program make me sweat!)  And so ended Day 42 of my Exercise Streak.

Be Gone, Big Pants!

I did it.  I finally fit into the size 14 Lee jeans that I've been saving in a Rubbermaid container since 1997.  They were pale blue, high-waisted, the kind of jeans that all the young moms were wearing ten years ago.  Now, those kind of "mom jeans" are mocked on Saturday Night Live (and rightly so.) 

I bought them at a garage sale in 1997 to serve as "goal jeans."  I was alway starting a diet or thinking about starting a diet or refusing to think about starting a diet.  And so, they sat for almost ten years while I grew fatter, slightly less fat, then more fat again.  Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Last night, I tried on everything in my closet and the storage containers, except for the size 10 jeans I've saved since 1987 and the crazy pleated shorts from the 80s and 90s.  I'm keeping the size 10 jeans, so I can see if I'm ever as thin as I was when I was a new bride.  The other hopelessly out of fashion clothing went into the thrift store pile.

I found it extremely satisfying to zip up clothes that used to be too small.  I found it equally satisfying to zip up clothes that used to fit and find them much too loose.  I culled everything out of my closet that is too big, with the exception of a bunch of cotton long-sleeved t-shirts that I will still wear around home.   

So now, I have two dresses, one suit, some skirts, a few pairs of jeans, a couple of pairs of pants, and some sweaters.  Just yesterday, I bought a nice black skirt and a pair of jeans (both from Eddie Bauer) at Value Village.  Size 14.  I know I keep saying that, but I am honestly so surprised that I can wear--that I am wearing size 14 now! 

Yesterday, I shopped for clothes and actually rejected some size 14 pants not because they didn't fit, but because I didn't like how they looked.  I rejected them!  They did not reject me!  Victory is mine over pants!  For way too long, if something merely fit, I felt an obligation to buy it because who knew when I'd ever find something that would just fit?  (Note the extremely low fashion standards:  "Does item fit?"  Buy it.)

I remember 1991 when I first went up to size 14.  I squinted in horror at the very thought of wearing such big pants.  Little did I know that I would soon be much bigger.  Those fourteens were the gateway to sixteens and eighteens and . . . elastic waistbands.

Now I wear size 14 jeans with sober thankfulness.  Soon I'll be packing up the size 14 clothing and settling into my regular size 12.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll even end up wearing a size 10 one day.  I'm not sure exactly where this journey will end--nor when--but I'm pretty sure it's not in the "Misses Department."

Exhausted?

For a long time, years, in fact, I dealt with exhaustion by eating.  If I were really sleep-deprived, I'd have a day full of chocolate and cookies (double-stuffed Oreos, anyone?) and crackers.  I ate and ate and ate because I was so tired, tired, tired. 

Well, when you are tired, you should sleep.  If you can't sleep, food will not help.  You know what does help, though?  Exercise.  It makes no logical sense, but when you are lethargic and dragging, a little exercise can pep you up like no bag of Oreos ever can.  You just have to make yourself do it.

And if you are tired, you really should do what you can to get more sleep.  Did you know sleep deprivation has been linked to weight gain?  Read this for more information. 

I'd tell you more, but right now?  I'm heading to bed.

My Pants Lied

The weird thing about my pants is that they feel the same now, even though I'm forty-three pounds lighter.  Snug waistband, slight sag in the back, a little loose in the legs . . . but these are size 14 jeans and those, well, those were size 18 (with spandex).  (At one point, those size 18 jeans were thrown aside because they were painfully tight, in fact, last January and February--I shall never forget the horror.)

But that's one way I managed to fool myself about how fat I was.  I just bought bigger pants.  So, when my size 14 pants grew too snug, I bought--with regret, dismay and promises (only until I lose ten pounds!)--bigger pants.  Size 16.  Gulp.

And then, what?  How did these pants get so tight?  Summer came and I need shorts and I bought size 18, just so they'd be loose and comfortable, I told myself.  And when jean-season came around again, I couldn't zip up my old jeans without compromising my cardiovascular system (i.e.. strangling my veins and arteries with denim). 

So, then I bought size 18 jeans which were temporary, I mean it!  I would not stay a size 18, no way, no how.  But I did.  (And one time, I even bought a pair of size 20 jeans, but that was after a pregnancy, so it doesn't count.)

That spandex in those jeans gave me the false sense that I was not really all that fat.  After all, you can still buy size 18 in a regular store.  And they were temporary.  And they didn't feel that much different on my body.  (Just remember:  no photographs, please!)

So, all along, my jeans have fit.  And now that I'm in smaller jeans, I feel the same as I did when I was in bigger jeans . . . if I judge by the feel of denim on my body.  This is a little confusing for the part of me that never really saw me as fat. 

But every time I walk by a mirror, I turn sideways, say, "Fourteen!" to remind myself.  And today?  I gave away my two favorite pair of size 18 jeans (with spandex!).

Fourteen.  But temporary, because soon, I'll be saying, "Twelve!"

(The moral of the story?  Never buy bigger jeans!)

Official Thursday Weigh-In

Today I weigh 183.2.  I've lost 43.2 pounds. 

Time to weigh-in!  How are you doing? 

(And if your stats weren't updated last week, I apologize.  I got caught in an email avalanche and I'm still digging out.)