WOO HOO. It's January, folks! Time to lose that weight! (again) Time to make healthier choices! (again) Time to get healthy! (again)
So I started Weight watchers last week. (again) Can't say I was 100% perfect, but I stayed within points 5 of the 7 days, and only went over a little on the other 2 days. I also exercised this week (first time since Thanksgiving.)
I have spent this week sore and hungry. I sat at Disney World and watched my family eat Ice Cream sundaes as big as their heads (as I munched on my yummy and totally satisfying protein bar.) I didn't eat pizza during the national championship football game. No chocolate. No pasta. Measuring food. Limited bread. No pasta.
So what do I get for this whole 7 days of deprivation? NADA. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Did not lose a single pound.
This is especially depressing to me because - as all women know - usually the first week of a diet is when you lose the MOST weight. Your body has a shock, and you lose like 4-5 pounds. Then it slows down after that. So if we follow that well-established precedent, what does that mean for me? If I lost NOTHING the first week, how can it slow down from here on out? Will I actually gain weight? (possibly)
So here I am, after 7 days, almost in tears and ready to quit. It's so hard to diet when you have kids in the house and your married to genetically skinny exercise Nazi. It was much easier when it was just me, or even just me and Bart. But trying to cook meals and do the shopping for a family of 4, while trying to stay within your diet guidelines and getting the kids to eat whatever it is you are cooking, is HARD.
So what do I do now? I am supposed to run this $#*& 5K race with a bunch of !%#*&^% skinny people in 7 weeks. I can't run outside because as I type this it's 30 degrees outside. Meaning I have to get dressed and haul myself to the gym. FOR WHAT PURPOSE?
"To be healthier!" you might say. Well, I was at the doctor in December for my physical, and I am 100% healthy. She even said the weight had no visible health consequences in me. All of my lab work came back optimal. Not, good, not normal, but PERFECT. I am healthy.
I have been dieting and exercising for the better part of 16 years. It never works. It never sticks. Here I am, still fat. Maybe I am fighting a losing battle. Maybe I am just genetically predisposed to being this big. Maybe I should just embrace it and be one of those chicks on Dr. Phil who just loves themselves just the way they are.
Or maybe I should just go to McDonalds and get 2 Breakfast Burritos.
1 comment:
OK, clearly I need to sign up for an RSS feed so I know when you're blogging again ...
The sad truth: 40 is less forgiving than 30, which was less forgiving than 20. The good news is, based on my dad, 80 gets forgiving again. Until then, the weight loss journey gets harder with every passing year and Black Hole Fridays don't work anymore.
However, if you're healthy, that's really what matters, isn't it? Hell, if Barry's liver hadn't started to fall apart we might never have done this with any success. And I do mean we, because I know how hard it is when even one other person in the house isn't doing it, I can't even imagine having kids on top of it.
Also, for the record, weight has nothing to do with running ability. I run pretty much the same at every weight - slowly and with an astounding lack of grace, coordination or proper breathing. I don't know that I'll be able to do this 5K without walking at all, and really, getting a hotel room and schlepping all the way to Tampa for something that will be over by 10 a.m. doesn't thrill me. So we'll have to make it fun to make it worthwhile.
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