So today, The Wonder One and I both weighed in.
Today he hit his goal! I'm so proud of him! He's lost 50 pounds!
Today I'm a loser...just glad I can say that lol.
Lost a 1.5 this week to take me to 258. Still trying to get to that elusive 257.4 which is my 2nd goal to hit my 10% goal. My next goal once I hit this one will be 222 pounds.
You may be thinking "But Chubby Butt, why 222? I mean it's a cute number and all, but kinda odd don'tcha think?"
Nah, I'll explain why.
222 pounds is what I weighed before I got pregnant. It was the last number I remember weighing as an adult. Before that, I don't really have any sort of recollection of what my weight was. So with 222 being weight goal number 3, weight goal number four will be to break 200. Once I hit 199, I honestly have no idea what my goal weight will be after that.
At 5'6" my understanding is that I should be 130 pounds, 100 for the first 5 feet and 5 pounds for every inch after that. So I dunno. We'll have to wait and see how it goes.
Here's to crossed fingers and 0.6 of a pound!
Hugs and Toodles
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Blasting in my ears right now...
Pounding it out on the treadmill or on the trails...
To keep the groove moving it along...
By the time you've walked/bounced your way through these two groovin' tracks if you're not sweatin' something off, then I think you should be checked for a pulse!
To keep the groove moving it along...
By the time you've walked/bounced your way through these two groovin' tracks if you're not sweatin' something off, then I think you should be checked for a pulse!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
It's Wednesday...(yeah I know it's Thursday...)
I didn't get around to doing my post yesterday because well......
I was dragging my feet in having to admit that I wasn't a big loser.
<insert sad face here>
I gained 2 pounds. The perplexing thing in it is that I don't know how it is that I gained the 2 pounds. Well, that's not exactly true. I can surmise that it's due in part that I didn't get out to exercise like I usually do. As well it was that time of the month and The Wonder One in a generous act of compassion brought home a fistful of chocolate. Which did not survive the beat down I gave it.
Actually it did, but only by like, I'd say, 3.2 seconds.
Otherwise, it was a good week, so to see those numbers pop up is kind of disheartening. Knowing I'm so close to my 10% goal and have it feel sooooooo far away is maddening.
The one good thing in all of this is that the slate is wiped clean and a new week can begin again.
Here's to new weeks!
I was dragging my feet in having to admit that I wasn't a big loser.
<insert sad face here>
I gained 2 pounds. The perplexing thing in it is that I don't know how it is that I gained the 2 pounds. Well, that's not exactly true. I can surmise that it's due in part that I didn't get out to exercise like I usually do. As well it was that time of the month and The Wonder One in a generous act of compassion brought home a fistful of chocolate. Which did not survive the beat down I gave it.
Actually it did, but only by like, I'd say, 3.2 seconds.
Otherwise, it was a good week, so to see those numbers pop up is kind of disheartening. Knowing I'm so close to my 10% goal and have it feel sooooooo far away is maddening.
The one good thing in all of this is that the slate is wiped clean and a new week can begin again.
Here's to new weeks!
Thursday Review...
This Week's Product
(It's new at least to me)
As is usually the case, at least for me, when I find something I like, I stick with it. Which then leads to a rut. Which I find usually leads me to a slowing down of my weight loss. So I thought I would mix things up a bit when it comes to my morning routine.
One day last week I went to pick up The Wonder One from work and we stopped off at the local bread store to pick up a few things, as we were wandering about (more accurate to say, as I was wandering about, as I'd not been there in years....he can get in and out of there in less than 60 seconds, lol), I noticed this cereal sitting on the shelf and with the cold weather fast approaching, it sounded like it might be good for a change.
Now to say this first and foremost, anyone who knows me, knows I do not, repeat, do NOT eat breakfast. Let alone cereal. So this is groundbreaking. Or breaking new ground for me, either way, as it would be, I think it was the apples and cinnamon that really caught my eye.
Damn my eyes!
I say that because they were blinded to the big red banner that said FLAX SEED!! Uhhhh yeah. It's not pretty. I do have to say, I am one of those people that eats food based on texture, so if it's got a wonky texture, I am so not in it. I will have to give it another try, maybe put in a bit of milk to thin it out a bit, because if you let it sit for any longer than a nano second, then you have your mortar to repairing your retaining wall in your basement. You'll never have to fear about any flooding in your basement again! My first bowl full I could only eat half of it. It just got to hard to eat the other half. Not that I didn't want to. Well, I didn't, but it was because I was afraid I'd chip a tooth.
So my lesson learned is to eat fast, not to dilly dally while eating and do NOT let this stuff cool off in the slightest, to do so is to surely bring peril upon a molar. Maybe I'll add a dash of milk next time. And a packet of Equal? Didn't have much flavor to speak of either. Smelled good out of the bag, but not when the spoon was coming to your mouth.
There is something to be said for nose and tastebud appeal.
For those with nut allergies and you still want to give this a whirl, because it is good for you in the heart healthy sense. I'm afraid it's got every possible nut in it. It is an all natural product (probably why it has the issues it does and why I'm not used to it, hey! My first all natural product! YaY! I did eat half of it at least, so that's saying something!) So I would say stay away from it at all costs.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Filling in some gaps...(a family history lesson)
***Warning***
This post is of a very personal nature. If you feel you cannot handle it, please feel free to move on and there'll be no hard feelings. Of this I promise. However, please note, this is why comments are monitored/screened before being posted. Any one that feels the need to be hateful or hurtful in leaving their comments they can just go ahead and click the little red x up at the top right hand side of your screen now.
Thank you.
Yesterdays post was to explain some of my self loathing. How it came to be that I let food be my source of comfort. How it is now that I have to look at it as a means to fuel my body and to some extent as a poison. Given what it can do to me, food isn't always a good thing, what it has done to my health and where I'm trying to recover from it is a long arduous process.
It's only now that as an adult I can look back and see where a lot of my poor eating habits began. I'm not blaming any one person. After all, no one held the fork to my mouth and the gun to my head. It's with open eyes and a clear head and a mended heart I can look back on all the self destruction and see where I fell short and did so much damage to myself in an effort to soothe a broken soul.
When you're 7, 8 years old and moving into a new neighborhood and you're the new kid on the block and don't know anyone, you are the kid that is going to walk around with that bulls eye on your back. I didn't know I had it there, but it was there none the less. (Due to all the moving and evictions/homelessness, there are few pictures of me at this age but I'm certain I don't look much different than the picture I posted yesterday, where I'm approximately 4 or 5 years old) As you can see, I was a normal kid. Maybe even a wee bit on the scrawny side. At that time, it was about the time my parents had just split up, the barnacle living on her own for the first time in her life. She'd gone from her parents house to the Army to her first husband's home then to be divorced, then to live with my dad, and now, here we are. At 32/33 years old, she had no clue what she was doing. (Probably explains why now at 71, she acts the way she does.) It was then that I started spending the weekends with my grandparents who were the barnacles mother and step-father. That's when I learned a different means to showing you loved someone.
Grandma would fix dinner and if there were just the slightest little bit left over, "oh you get that last little bit and eat it so I don't have to wrap it up and put it in the fridge" was usually what I would hear. Every meal, every time. If she made something that I refused to eat, instead of me going hungry (which let's face it, most kids wouldn't hurt them to learn to suffer through a meal or two...after all liver is so good for you) my grandmother would go to KFC for my dinner. There were only two meals I refused to eat, liver & onions and beans & ham hocks (with them being "country folk" they ate it a lot) . **please ignore any gagging sounds you may hear**
While grandma was showing me she loved me, her second husband was too. Since they had gotten married many many years before I was born, he'd always been there. He was always my "grandfather". It was, what it was. It wasn't until I was about 12 or so when I realized that grandpa's just aren't supposed to show they love their granddaughters they love them like that. I stood up to him and that was the end of it. Grandma caught him once, beat the ever loving shit out of him. Yet she never left him for it. She was of that generation where you stood by your man no matter what.
Many years later I confronted both of them. In their way they both sought forgiveness. I forgave.
If I hadn't, wouldn't I be no better than him when he was committing his sin?
When my father came back into the picture and stirred up the self loathing just a bit more, at that time I didn't know or realize that I even was capable of loathing myself, I just took it for what it was. Just one more way that the men in my life told me they cared about me. The Wonder One was the exception to that rule. Thankfully. I'd probably be insane by now otherwise, lol. That's one of the reasons he is my Wonder One, in spite of all of this, he loves me anyway.
I did get to spend time with my father and get to know him some. When I wanted to go to nursing school he told someone "I don't know why she's pursuing this, she never finishes what she starts." I did have to drop out of nursing school the first time around because he died. He died from a massive heart attack two days before my birthday, a week into school. Funny part in all this is, I didn't know he said that until graduation day when I went back and finished nursing school the second time around. At my commencement ceremony I took part and gave a speech about the lighting of the lamp of knowledge and Florence Nightingale.
My only regret was that he wasn't there to see me finish.
That's why all of this is so important to me, getting the weight off (so I can get healthy...he was 52 when he died, I'm only 45 I don't want to go out that way), figuring out how and why I got to be this big...get rid of the mental baggage as it were so that I won't put the weight back on (hence the blog)....and hopefully in the end, if I can help someone else through my process with theirs, then I've done my job not once, but twice.
I share this with you, not because it's some sort of big deal, because it's not, there are people who've been through worse, but because you too may have been through your share of shit and think that you're the only one. I'm here to tell you, you aren't. The one thing I've had to learn in all this is to let it all go and stay in the past instead of follow me about and hang on my neck like a huge weight. If I don't shed this self loathing and guilt for self perceived things I've done wrong, when will I be able to get things right? At some point it's all got to go.
Right now, oddly enough, I've got to go, I've got to go eat, I've spent the morning writing this and now I'm starving!
Talk soon!
Hugs & Toodles
This post is of a very personal nature. If you feel you cannot handle it, please feel free to move on and there'll be no hard feelings. Of this I promise. However, please note, this is why comments are monitored/screened before being posted. Any one that feels the need to be hateful or hurtful in leaving their comments they can just go ahead and click the little red x up at the top right hand side of your screen now.
Thank you.
Yesterdays post was to explain some of my self loathing. How it came to be that I let food be my source of comfort. How it is now that I have to look at it as a means to fuel my body and to some extent as a poison. Given what it can do to me, food isn't always a good thing, what it has done to my health and where I'm trying to recover from it is a long arduous process.
It's only now that as an adult I can look back and see where a lot of my poor eating habits began. I'm not blaming any one person. After all, no one held the fork to my mouth and the gun to my head. It's with open eyes and a clear head and a mended heart I can look back on all the self destruction and see where I fell short and did so much damage to myself in an effort to soothe a broken soul.
When you're 7, 8 years old and moving into a new neighborhood and you're the new kid on the block and don't know anyone, you are the kid that is going to walk around with that bulls eye on your back. I didn't know I had it there, but it was there none the less. (Due to all the moving and evictions/homelessness, there are few pictures of me at this age but I'm certain I don't look much different than the picture I posted yesterday, where I'm approximately 4 or 5 years old) As you can see, I was a normal kid. Maybe even a wee bit on the scrawny side. At that time, it was about the time my parents had just split up, the barnacle living on her own for the first time in her life. She'd gone from her parents house to the Army to her first husband's home then to be divorced, then to live with my dad, and now, here we are. At 32/33 years old, she had no clue what she was doing. (Probably explains why now at 71, she acts the way she does.) It was then that I started spending the weekends with my grandparents who were the barnacles mother and step-father. That's when I learned a different means to showing you loved someone.
Grandma would fix dinner and if there were just the slightest little bit left over, "oh you get that last little bit and eat it so I don't have to wrap it up and put it in the fridge" was usually what I would hear. Every meal, every time. If she made something that I refused to eat, instead of me going hungry (which let's face it, most kids wouldn't hurt them to learn to suffer through a meal or two...after all liver is so good for you) my grandmother would go to KFC for my dinner. There were only two meals I refused to eat, liver & onions and beans & ham hocks (with them being "country folk" they ate it a lot) . **please ignore any gagging sounds you may hear**
While grandma was showing me she loved me, her second husband was too. Since they had gotten married many many years before I was born, he'd always been there. He was always my "grandfather". It was, what it was. It wasn't until I was about 12 or so when I realized that grandpa's just aren't supposed to show they love their granddaughters they love them like that. I stood up to him and that was the end of it. Grandma caught him once, beat the ever loving shit out of him. Yet she never left him for it. She was of that generation where you stood by your man no matter what.
Many years later I confronted both of them. In their way they both sought forgiveness. I forgave.
If I hadn't, wouldn't I be no better than him when he was committing his sin?
When my father came back into the picture and stirred up the self loathing just a bit more, at that time I didn't know or realize that I even was capable of loathing myself, I just took it for what it was. Just one more way that the men in my life told me they cared about me. The Wonder One was the exception to that rule. Thankfully. I'd probably be insane by now otherwise, lol. That's one of the reasons he is my Wonder One, in spite of all of this, he loves me anyway.
I did get to spend time with my father and get to know him some. When I wanted to go to nursing school he told someone "I don't know why she's pursuing this, she never finishes what she starts." I did have to drop out of nursing school the first time around because he died. He died from a massive heart attack two days before my birthday, a week into school. Funny part in all this is, I didn't know he said that until graduation day when I went back and finished nursing school the second time around. At my commencement ceremony I took part and gave a speech about the lighting of the lamp of knowledge and Florence Nightingale.
My only regret was that he wasn't there to see me finish.
That's why all of this is so important to me, getting the weight off (so I can get healthy...he was 52 when he died, I'm only 45 I don't want to go out that way), figuring out how and why I got to be this big...get rid of the mental baggage as it were so that I won't put the weight back on (hence the blog)....and hopefully in the end, if I can help someone else through my process with theirs, then I've done my job not once, but twice.
I share this with you, not because it's some sort of big deal, because it's not, there are people who've been through worse, but because you too may have been through your share of shit and think that you're the only one. I'm here to tell you, you aren't. The one thing I've had to learn in all this is to let it all go and stay in the past instead of follow me about and hang on my neck like a huge weight. If I don't shed this self loathing and guilt for self perceived things I've done wrong, when will I be able to get things right? At some point it's all got to go.
Right now, oddly enough, I've got to go, I've got to go eat, I've spent the morning writing this and now I'm starving!
Talk soon!
Hugs & Toodles
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)