I don't have anything massively pressing or exciting to post, so I figured I could just throw some smaller stuff in here and mix it all up for a multi-facetted update post. Call it the Staples Skillet Post. Which leads to my first topic.
STAPLES SKILLETS
I have discovered a useful idea for our leftovers. Probably like most families, we have trouble with pesky leftovers. They sit in the fridge until, finally, they get evicted. Since I started this food plan, I use up our meat leftovers pretty regularly. But I will sometimes have veggies or rice or other stuff hanging around. Well, all those years of frequently places like 1 Fresh Stir Fry and Genghis Grill Mongolian BBQ and Stone Turtle (shout out for my Tampa peeps) have paid off. Now, when we have random onions, corn, tomatoes, rice, meat floating around - I just mix them in a skillet. I start with onions, throw in corn (which is AWESOME cooked twice), add some tomatoes, throw in some brown rice, and then add some leftover meat. I'll pour in some bbq sauce or ranch dressing to make it a bit wetter. And it is good - tastes like it came from one of those places I mentioned. Which is pretty sad, too. We pay nine bucks for a bowl of leftovers.
PEANUT BUTTER YOGURT (REVISITED)
I have introduced several groups to my peanut butter yogurt and they have all been won over. Seriously, if you want to have an awesome and cheap dessert at your next soiree, make up some peanut butter yogurt dip and sliced fruit. I brought it to the pre-party for Heather's gala last week and it got scarfed up. Well, being the constant food tinkerer I am, I decided to try something. Stonyfield Farms has a yogurt called Chocolate Underground. It is fat free and really good. (I don't eat it as a matter of principle - too close to dessert to me.) Anyway, I whipped up a container of the chocolate yogurt and then added IT to my slightly melted peanut butter. Mix it all up. But, in this case, refrigerate it for a couple hours. For some reason, this one is better colder. If you thought the PBY dip was good, wait until you try the CPBY one. Or, as you can also call it, Resee's Peanut Butter Cup Dip. No lying.
GREEK YOGURT (REVISITED)
I have professed my love for Oikos Greek Yogurt in several posts. But I have strictly used it for dips, sauces, tuna/chicken salads, and sour cream substitution. (That's ALL?!?) I have not eaten it plain. I have stuck with regular yogurt - fat free plain, fat free vanilla, fat free blueberry (Stonyfield, of course). Personally, I think eating Greek Yogurt is kind of nasty on its own. I tried a couple other brands to see they were any better. Nope. Well, I happened to try Chobani brand greek yogurt a couple months ago and thought it was okay. But I hadn't gotten brave enough to actually get a container of it yet. The other day Winn Dixie ran them on sale - the smaller ones were 10 for $10. So I tried a peach one. I was very surprised. Oikos is far superior as an ingredient. But Chobani is better for eating by itself. They also sell it in multipacks at Sam's, Costco, BJ's. And it is fat free, 140 calories, 20 carbs, and (ready?) 14 PROTEIN! That's the same as two and a half eggs. Needless to say, I have switched my breakfast to Chobani.
MY BUTT
I still have no butt. This has been verified by many people. Just wanted to establish that this is a constant in the whole process.
CHILI (REVISITED)
I have firmly decided that it is imperative to add peppers to the process. I prefer poblano peppers - they are just amazing flavor. But green bells work also. Shoot, the last one I made I actually used a can of green chiles and they were good. Just work them into the recipe right after the onions and before the meat. I really am embarrassed I didn't get include them in the first place.
SALMON (OR SO YOU BELIEVE)
I made salmon the other day - first time ever. It was great. But then I made an even better discovery. There is something called Steelhead Trout - it is a kind of rainbow trout. I found it at Sam's and wondered what it was, so I got it. Well, it turns out that it is like Salmon Lite. It is red like salmon. You cook it exactly the same. And it tastes almost exactly the same. Actually, Heather and I actually thought it was a little better. And it is a LOT cheaper - like several dollars a pound cheaper. Try it.
SALAD DRESSING IDEA
Now, I know that you may think that eating salad dressing is just stupid. Well, it can be. Or you can find a good option and still have it. We have tons of salad dressing in our fridge that has like 30 calories per serving. We have one strawberry vinaigrette from Vermont that is very good. And we found Boathouse Farms brand stuff. At Publix, they have it in the produce section. None of their dressings have added sugar, so all their vinaigrettes are really low in calories. And their creamy dressings (ranch, caesar, thousand island) are yogurt based. So they are like 30 calories - lower than most brands' lite option. I don't feel bad about that. Anyway, up in South Carolina over Easter, we ate at a place called Harry and Jean's. It is one of the places we go to frequently when visiting Heather's brothers in Rock Hill. They have a dressing called "The Twist." Basically, it is ranch dressing with balsamic vinaigrette drizzled over it. I had it this last time up there and it was really good - one of the better dressings I have had. So I bought Boathouse ranch and balsamic vinaigrette and tried it myself the other night. Amazing. Trust me on this. It is excellent stuff - and if you use the Boathouse stuff, it only adds like 50 calories.
WEIGHT LOSS
Well, I was able to negate the three pound gain from last week. I was down to 297 on Friday - below where I was when that fiasco happened. So that's good. I got some money to buy clothes for my birthday and got some shirts. They were all 2XLT and fit great. Also, I bought a pair of 40x30 jeans. I swear, when I wear them they look like skinny jeans - to me at least. I have stopped getting baggy fit jeans when I buy jeans. That was just another way to hide my size over the years. And I am really shocked at how I look in a normal "relaxed fit" pair of pants. Today I had on my 2XLT rugby shirt and black jeans for church - I could tell I was causing people all over the congregation to lust. I will have to be more careful in the future.
EXERCISE (REVISITED)
I have been fairly consistent with the Wii Fit - as long as Gabe goes to bed at a normal time. I average about five days a week on it. I've gotten to a solid half hour on there, and not just doing balancing games. I start with those to get warmed up. But then I move on to Advanced Rhythm Boxing (8 minutes), Advanced Step (Six Minutes), and Advanced Hula Hoop (Six Minutes). They kick my butt. I also started doing 30 of the sorriest looking sit ups and push ups you've ever seen. But it is a start. So, I am slowly bringing the exercise into the equation.
Well, that is the extent of my update. Hopefully I will have something profound to share this week.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Mexican
When I made my original list of foods that I could not allow myself to eat, Mexican food was thrown on that list. Recently, I have begun to wonder if that is actually a correct placement. I think I did it originally out of ease of labeling. I didn't want to have to put a mammoth list of specific foods together. So I put more general classifications. Mexican and Italian were two of those.
As this effort has progressed into a regular way of life, I am beginning to need to clarify what exactly is meant by those classifications. It is easy for me to say, "Pizza is out." There is no way that pizza will work. And I just toss all variations of pizza (calzones, flatbreads, stromboli) into that heap. When you combine my food addiction with pizza with my reduced carb intake, there is no way to justify pizza. (And I need that level of protection for foods like that.) But I've been doing this for three months, so I need to start to address some of the picky questions.
I tried to explain the way I think about this to Heather yesterday. I am seriously treating this the same as an addiction treatment. I have very strict rules and don't want to come close to breaking them. Some of them make no sense to anyone else - and very little sense to me. But I have had to do that to establish my guides. For example, I eat yogurt every single morning. At first, it was always plain fat free yogurt, mixed with berries. That was it. At some point, I wanted to get vanilla yogurt instead of plain. To most people, this would not be a big deal. But to me, it was a massive wrestling match. Was it okay to get vanilla fat free yogurt? The calorie difference was minimal - going from 120 calories to 150. But there was sugar in the vanilla yogurt and I was trying to avoid sugar. Finally I decided to start opting for vanilla. But it was after a ton of questioning myself. (Imagine the difficulty that came with getting blueberry yogurt.)
I think I have some deep seated fear that if I eat the wrong thing, it will be like Bruce in Finding Nemo when he tasted blood. All the sudden, my eyes will roll back in my head and I'll drive to KFC and get a Double Down Sandwich, fries, and a giant Pepsi. The chances of this happening are about as likely as me starting for the Nashville Predators next Fall. But that fear is still there. So I have been very wary of adding new foods into my regiment. But, to be honest, I am finding it nigh unto impossible to function well rotating between five or ten food options. So I have had to allow myself some freedom to make intelligent additions. I added peanut butter in a few weeks back as the closest thing I have to a dessert. I've started having brown rice once in a while. So far, no frantic drives for deep fried chicken has ensued.
So, back to the Mexican issue, I have just avoided Mexican places in general since this started. But, at home as I have cooked, I have noticed that I still use what is considered "Mexican" or "Southwestern" flavoring frequently. One of my standby foods is chili. Could I seriously be able to argue that chili is NOT in the Mexican category? I would find that a logical stretch. I also have made stuffed peppers and Southwestern chicken. Then I went to Qdoba the other day with Gabe. And I realized that my general banning of "Mexican" places doesn't make a lot of sense. When it comes to that style of food, you actually can do a great job with food choices.
At Qdoba I got a "naked chicken bowl" with fajita veggies, black beans, pico de gallo, corn salsa, and a scoop of rice. What was wrong with that? I could have made that same thing at home and not felt bad at all. In fact, I HAVE made stuff similar to that. Today, Heather and I went to lunch - since that is one of the few times I will be able to see her during her finals cramming. I got a rice bowl there - brown rice, black beans, double chicken, grilled veggies, grilled mushrooms, and pico. Again, delicious and nothing that was a problem in the least. In fact, there are a lot of Tex-Mex, Cali-Mex, Southwestern, Mexican, and New Mexican options for eating well. Grilled meats, roasted veggies, rice, beans. Lots of good stuff. Look at fajitas. If you just mix the stuff up on a plate, what is wrong with it? Pan seared meat, onions, peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, salsa, lettuce. The trick is leaving the warm tortillas, sour cream, and cheese alone - which is what I never could do.
The problem is that when most Americans think of Mexican food, they picture Jim Gaffigan's description. "All Mexican food is basically the same. Tortilla with meat, cheese, and vegetables." That is true of fast food Mexican. And it is true of a lot of options at your standard Mexican restaurant. But you are not locked into those choices. I would actually go so far as to say that, aside from a seafood place, you have more decent options at a Mexican place than other genres. It is a stark difference from your average Italian restaurant. There are hardly any Italian options that do not involve pasta, cheese, or crust. Some foods from the Tuscan region are not so dependent on carbs and cheeses - stuff like Mario Batali specializes in. But try finding that at your average Italian place. With Mexican food, you don't have to get tons of carbs. You don't have to get sour cream or cheese. (Real Mexican food places would laugh at us for our dependence on sour cream anyway.) Most items are not fried. (Sure, you can find places like Tijuana Flats that seems to stock its menu with fried, smothered, and cheesed items.) It all comes down to willpower. Can you avoid the chips and salsa? Are you willing to ditch the sour cream topping? Will you forego the tortillas? If so, then you can do pretty well.
I guess that is all to say that I need to adjust my blanket rejection of Mexican cuisine. I think fajitas, rice bowls, fish tacos (at least the stuff inside), and the like are actually great options. As always, it just requires willpower, discipline, and thinking through food choices.
As this effort has progressed into a regular way of life, I am beginning to need to clarify what exactly is meant by those classifications. It is easy for me to say, "Pizza is out." There is no way that pizza will work. And I just toss all variations of pizza (calzones, flatbreads, stromboli) into that heap. When you combine my food addiction with pizza with my reduced carb intake, there is no way to justify pizza. (And I need that level of protection for foods like that.) But I've been doing this for three months, so I need to start to address some of the picky questions.
I tried to explain the way I think about this to Heather yesterday. I am seriously treating this the same as an addiction treatment. I have very strict rules and don't want to come close to breaking them. Some of them make no sense to anyone else - and very little sense to me. But I have had to do that to establish my guides. For example, I eat yogurt every single morning. At first, it was always plain fat free yogurt, mixed with berries. That was it. At some point, I wanted to get vanilla yogurt instead of plain. To most people, this would not be a big deal. But to me, it was a massive wrestling match. Was it okay to get vanilla fat free yogurt? The calorie difference was minimal - going from 120 calories to 150. But there was sugar in the vanilla yogurt and I was trying to avoid sugar. Finally I decided to start opting for vanilla. But it was after a ton of questioning myself. (Imagine the difficulty that came with getting blueberry yogurt.)
I think I have some deep seated fear that if I eat the wrong thing, it will be like Bruce in Finding Nemo when he tasted blood. All the sudden, my eyes will roll back in my head and I'll drive to KFC and get a Double Down Sandwich, fries, and a giant Pepsi. The chances of this happening are about as likely as me starting for the Nashville Predators next Fall. But that fear is still there. So I have been very wary of adding new foods into my regiment. But, to be honest, I am finding it nigh unto impossible to function well rotating between five or ten food options. So I have had to allow myself some freedom to make intelligent additions. I added peanut butter in a few weeks back as the closest thing I have to a dessert. I've started having brown rice once in a while. So far, no frantic drives for deep fried chicken has ensued.
So, back to the Mexican issue, I have just avoided Mexican places in general since this started. But, at home as I have cooked, I have noticed that I still use what is considered "Mexican" or "Southwestern" flavoring frequently. One of my standby foods is chili. Could I seriously be able to argue that chili is NOT in the Mexican category? I would find that a logical stretch. I also have made stuffed peppers and Southwestern chicken. Then I went to Qdoba the other day with Gabe. And I realized that my general banning of "Mexican" places doesn't make a lot of sense. When it comes to that style of food, you actually can do a great job with food choices.
At Qdoba I got a "naked chicken bowl" with fajita veggies, black beans, pico de gallo, corn salsa, and a scoop of rice. What was wrong with that? I could have made that same thing at home and not felt bad at all. In fact, I HAVE made stuff similar to that. Today, Heather and I went to lunch - since that is one of the few times I will be able to see her during her finals cramming. I got a rice bowl there - brown rice, black beans, double chicken, grilled veggies, grilled mushrooms, and pico. Again, delicious and nothing that was a problem in the least. In fact, there are a lot of Tex-Mex, Cali-Mex, Southwestern, Mexican, and New Mexican options for eating well. Grilled meats, roasted veggies, rice, beans. Lots of good stuff. Look at fajitas. If you just mix the stuff up on a plate, what is wrong with it? Pan seared meat, onions, peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, salsa, lettuce. The trick is leaving the warm tortillas, sour cream, and cheese alone - which is what I never could do.
The problem is that when most Americans think of Mexican food, they picture Jim Gaffigan's description. "All Mexican food is basically the same. Tortilla with meat, cheese, and vegetables." That is true of fast food Mexican. And it is true of a lot of options at your standard Mexican restaurant. But you are not locked into those choices. I would actually go so far as to say that, aside from a seafood place, you have more decent options at a Mexican place than other genres. It is a stark difference from your average Italian restaurant. There are hardly any Italian options that do not involve pasta, cheese, or crust. Some foods from the Tuscan region are not so dependent on carbs and cheeses - stuff like Mario Batali specializes in. But try finding that at your average Italian place. With Mexican food, you don't have to get tons of carbs. You don't have to get sour cream or cheese. (Real Mexican food places would laugh at us for our dependence on sour cream anyway.) Most items are not fried. (Sure, you can find places like Tijuana Flats that seems to stock its menu with fried, smothered, and cheesed items.) It all comes down to willpower. Can you avoid the chips and salsa? Are you willing to ditch the sour cream topping? Will you forego the tortillas? If so, then you can do pretty well.
I guess that is all to say that I need to adjust my blanket rejection of Mexican cuisine. I think fajitas, rice bowls, fish tacos (at least the stuff inside), and the like are actually great options. As always, it just requires willpower, discipline, and thinking through food choices.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
My Birthday
Let me take you back five years today. I was in the midst of my most successful intentional weight loss program. I had started in mid-January and had lost fifty pounds already. I had dropped down to 280 pounds. For our family picture for the church directory, I was able to buy a shirt in the regular men's section instead of the big and tall section. I had just started Defender Ministries with Charles Wise and Jonathan Pearson - fulfilling a dream to write curriculum and teach. Things were going very well.
Then my birthday hit. I love birthdays. They are very important to me. It always was a big part of our family. While we wrestled with a lot of elements of Christmas over the years (Santa, materialism, cost), birthdays were different. My parents got us presents. We got to pick the restaurant that everyone would go to for dinner. It was a special day. And I always wanted to do the same thing for my family. That all being said, I am probably one of few adults who loves birthdays.
On this particular birthday, I was in a great place. I had friends at work who loved me. I had my two good buddies with Defender. We had two cute munchkins - one of which was a big fan of birthdays as well. (Nat didn't quite get it yet.) Being in the midst of a weight loss effort, I dreaded the thought of having to miss out on birthday fun. So I made a decision to just not worry about things on my birthday. I would eat whatever and enjoy the day and get back on track the next day.
For breakfast, the church staff brought in bagels or donuts or both. I, of course, rejected my usual oatmeal or grits for these baked items. For lunch, Charles and JP took me to Pizzeria Uno - my favorite place to eat. They were doing "buy one, get one free" meals that week. So, naturally, the three of us split four entrees. Pizza, steak, chicken. And tons of Code Red Mountain Dew. For dinner, my family and I went out to Carrabba's - another of my favorite haunts. I had Mezzaluna Carrabba - moon shaped pastas filled with cheese and meat, alfredo sauce, and grilled chicken. And tons of Coke. And then we went home and had cake.
I have no idea just how badly I did that day. I remember trying to figure out the Weight Watcher points. It was like 120 or something. That is the equivalent of about 6000 calories. Absolute rampage. No big deal, right? It was just one day. Well, that's what I thought too. Until I just couldn't get my mojo back. I found myself desiring food I shouldn't have. I wasn't satisfied with my regimented menu. It got more and more difficult to keep up. I wasn't finishing the week with extra flex points left over. Instead, they were gone well before the weekend. Within a month, I had abandoned the diet. Before the end of the year, I had gained the weight back . . . and then some. It was a disaster.
So how did everything unravel so quickly? How did my attempt at discipline crash and burn so quickly. I have many stories of this happening. A couple years later I tried an initial version of my current food plan. I only allowed myself certain foods - chicken, beans and rice, some fruit. It was extremely restrictive. That time I lost 35-40 pounds rather quickly. But it derailed and unraveled very quickly too. When I was living in Tampa, I went an entire year without eating red meat. Once I started again, it became my go-to food within weeks. I went six weeks without drinking soda. I had a root beer one day and was back to three meal soda intake within two weeks.
It seems to makes no sense that things get out of control so quickly. I mean, with such success, how can I turn away so quickly? The thing in all of these (with the exception of the first effort at this a few years back) is that I never really dealt with the addiction involved with food. I still was eating and drinking all the stuff I had issues with. I just was eating and drinking them less frequently. My mouth and brain never really got rid of the taste memories. I found ways to make pizza, burgers, fast food, soda, and subs fit into my diet plan. It was pretty bizarre.
I guess imagine it this way. If I was an alcoholic, and I deal with it the way I dieted in years past, how successful would I be? I still drank once in a while - but only small amounts or a couple times a week. I found beers with fewer calories, hoping that would break the draw to beer. Or I would go all week without booze, but I could have it on the weekends. How about going to bars with friends, but only drinking ordering soda water? Or on my birthday, I could drink anything I wanted and just start up the next day. Knowing what we know about alcoholism, that doesn't even make sense. People battling alcohol or drugs have to get away from those things. They aren't supposed to go to the places they can get them. They don't hang out with the people who has them. Their whole approach has to change. There can't be a "cheat weekend" or a "day off." Because most people who fall off the wagon, even for a day, don't have the strength to get back on.
That's the way I was. I never totally addressed the addiction. So when I gave myself a free day, it is little wonder that I went buck wild and never wanted to come back. The first time that I attempted something along these lines, I didn't have clear enough rules. I knew I was only really eating chicken. But, I was able to convince myself that a lot of things fit into that category. Partly, it was because I didn't want to disappoint friends or give up on the social draw of eating with people. I knew that if I was too hard line, that I would have to miss out on lunches with friends. And I didn't want to lose those things. I also wasn't resolved to stick with definitions when i did go out. I remember one time that a friend of mine was worried I wouldn't be able to find something at the place we were going. I said, "No, its fine. They have chicken there." But instead of getting a simple grilled chicken item, I ended up getting something far worse - probably fried chicken tenders or something.
That is why I am not taking my birthday off. It has haunted me for five years, what happened on that day. I always have seen it as a huge failure. It was an example of how weak I am. And it just fed my concern that I had no chance of ever doing things right. I plan on eating the same today as every other day. No birthday donut. No birthday pizza. No birthday cake. And, after what happened this past weekend, I don't plan on celebrating with peanut butter several times either, telling myself "it is okay, it is your birthday." It will be business as usual. The best gift I can give myself is to not allow myself to repeat the mistakes of the past.
Then my birthday hit. I love birthdays. They are very important to me. It always was a big part of our family. While we wrestled with a lot of elements of Christmas over the years (Santa, materialism, cost), birthdays were different. My parents got us presents. We got to pick the restaurant that everyone would go to for dinner. It was a special day. And I always wanted to do the same thing for my family. That all being said, I am probably one of few adults who loves birthdays.
On this particular birthday, I was in a great place. I had friends at work who loved me. I had my two good buddies with Defender. We had two cute munchkins - one of which was a big fan of birthdays as well. (Nat didn't quite get it yet.) Being in the midst of a weight loss effort, I dreaded the thought of having to miss out on birthday fun. So I made a decision to just not worry about things on my birthday. I would eat whatever and enjoy the day and get back on track the next day.
For breakfast, the church staff brought in bagels or donuts or both. I, of course, rejected my usual oatmeal or grits for these baked items. For lunch, Charles and JP took me to Pizzeria Uno - my favorite place to eat. They were doing "buy one, get one free" meals that week. So, naturally, the three of us split four entrees. Pizza, steak, chicken. And tons of Code Red Mountain Dew. For dinner, my family and I went out to Carrabba's - another of my favorite haunts. I had Mezzaluna Carrabba - moon shaped pastas filled with cheese and meat, alfredo sauce, and grilled chicken. And tons of Coke. And then we went home and had cake.
I have no idea just how badly I did that day. I remember trying to figure out the Weight Watcher points. It was like 120 or something. That is the equivalent of about 6000 calories. Absolute rampage. No big deal, right? It was just one day. Well, that's what I thought too. Until I just couldn't get my mojo back. I found myself desiring food I shouldn't have. I wasn't satisfied with my regimented menu. It got more and more difficult to keep up. I wasn't finishing the week with extra flex points left over. Instead, they were gone well before the weekend. Within a month, I had abandoned the diet. Before the end of the year, I had gained the weight back . . . and then some. It was a disaster.
So how did everything unravel so quickly? How did my attempt at discipline crash and burn so quickly. I have many stories of this happening. A couple years later I tried an initial version of my current food plan. I only allowed myself certain foods - chicken, beans and rice, some fruit. It was extremely restrictive. That time I lost 35-40 pounds rather quickly. But it derailed and unraveled very quickly too. When I was living in Tampa, I went an entire year without eating red meat. Once I started again, it became my go-to food within weeks. I went six weeks without drinking soda. I had a root beer one day and was back to three meal soda intake within two weeks.
It seems to makes no sense that things get out of control so quickly. I mean, with such success, how can I turn away so quickly? The thing in all of these (with the exception of the first effort at this a few years back) is that I never really dealt with the addiction involved with food. I still was eating and drinking all the stuff I had issues with. I just was eating and drinking them less frequently. My mouth and brain never really got rid of the taste memories. I found ways to make pizza, burgers, fast food, soda, and subs fit into my diet plan. It was pretty bizarre.
I guess imagine it this way. If I was an alcoholic, and I deal with it the way I dieted in years past, how successful would I be? I still drank once in a while - but only small amounts or a couple times a week. I found beers with fewer calories, hoping that would break the draw to beer. Or I would go all week without booze, but I could have it on the weekends. How about going to bars with friends, but only drinking ordering soda water? Or on my birthday, I could drink anything I wanted and just start up the next day. Knowing what we know about alcoholism, that doesn't even make sense. People battling alcohol or drugs have to get away from those things. They aren't supposed to go to the places they can get them. They don't hang out with the people who has them. Their whole approach has to change. There can't be a "cheat weekend" or a "day off." Because most people who fall off the wagon, even for a day, don't have the strength to get back on.
That's the way I was. I never totally addressed the addiction. So when I gave myself a free day, it is little wonder that I went buck wild and never wanted to come back. The first time that I attempted something along these lines, I didn't have clear enough rules. I knew I was only really eating chicken. But, I was able to convince myself that a lot of things fit into that category. Partly, it was because I didn't want to disappoint friends or give up on the social draw of eating with people. I knew that if I was too hard line, that I would have to miss out on lunches with friends. And I didn't want to lose those things. I also wasn't resolved to stick with definitions when i did go out. I remember one time that a friend of mine was worried I wouldn't be able to find something at the place we were going. I said, "No, its fine. They have chicken there." But instead of getting a simple grilled chicken item, I ended up getting something far worse - probably fried chicken tenders or something.
That is why I am not taking my birthday off. It has haunted me for five years, what happened on that day. I always have seen it as a huge failure. It was an example of how weak I am. And it just fed my concern that I had no chance of ever doing things right. I plan on eating the same today as every other day. No birthday donut. No birthday pizza. No birthday cake. And, after what happened this past weekend, I don't plan on celebrating with peanut butter several times either, telling myself "it is okay, it is your birthday." It will be business as usual. The best gift I can give myself is to not allow myself to repeat the mistakes of the past.
Monday, April 19, 2010
+3
Up to this point, I have not had to experience the dreaded weigh in with a positive weight gain. Until this morning. I had gained three pounds from my Friday weigh-in. (I weigh on Fridays and Mondays. I found this helpful in differentiating weekend and weekday splits.) I was already tired, thanks to Gabe's new ridiculous (lack of) sleep patterns. He was up at 5:30 - again. And within short order I end up in the living room with him, trying to keep him from waking everyone else up. So I was tired, irritated, and not ready for a new week. And then I gained three pounds.
I got very frustrated. The worst part of it is that I didn't do anything wrong. I know the first thought someone has when someone gains weight on a diet is, "I guess they cheated bad this weekend." But I didn't. I actually went out of my way to do well. That's what was so frustrating. I remember one time talking to my mom a few years back. She was trying so hard to eat right, be conscious of her food intake. She was depriving herself of stuff she liked in favor of oatmeal, whole grains, stuff like that. The next time she went to the doctor, her cholesterol went up and she had lost nothing. And then her brother at the same time, who ate horribly, reported his low numbers. (My dad was like this. He ate sausage and eggs every morning and tons of horrible food - and had ridiculously low cholesterol.)
There are few things more discouraging than gaining weight when you are trying to lose it. This was a bizarre weekend. We had the gala on Friday night. On Saturday, Heather's parents were here and we celebrated my birthday early. Sunday was church. But I had worked hard to not let those things affect my food intake. Just to show what I mean.
FRIDAY NIGHT: We had a pre-gala get together at one of Heather's friends' places. There were chips and dips, baked brie with bread, and my fruit with peanut butter yogurt dip. I avoided everything but apples and celery with the pby dip. At the gala, I had salad with berry vinaigrette dressing instead of ranch. I didn't have any rolls. I only drank water. I didn't eat my potatoes. I picked the cheese out of the stuffed chicken and pulled the breading off. So I just had the chicken and veggies. And I had nothing from the chocolate fountain.
SATURDAY MORNING: I took some peanut butter and mixed it up with plain yogurt. Then I cut up a banana and mixed it in. That was my breakfast.
SATURDAY LUNCH: This was my "birthday dinner." We went to Genghis Grill. It is a Mongolian BBQ. Basically you go to a buffet type thing and pick meats, veggies, spices, sauces and put them in a bowl. You pick a starch to go with it. Then the chefs cook it on a giant hot grill. I picked various meats, carrots, beans, snow peas, tomatoes, spinach and a HALF serving of brown rice. It was awesome - and like 500 calories for the whole thing.
SATURDAY SURPRISE: Obviously, I was not going to have a cake. So Heather ordered me an Edible Arrangements birthday fruit bouquet. This company is awesome. They cut fruit and put them on skewers to make it mimic a flower arrangement. So I had a bunch of fruit with melted peanut butter - while everyone else scarfed cupcakes.
SATURDAY DINNER: Heather's parents had gone home, and the kids were very upset (as usual). So to cheer them up (and since I didn't have anything ready for dinner), I got them pizza. I didn't eat pizza. I had wings - but with just mild sauce (and very small amounts of that). I also had celery, carrots, and fruit with it. During all of these things, I'm drinking tons of water.
SUNDAY LUNCH: I had skipped breakfast (booo!). For lunch we tried Seminole Wind buffet. I had heard lots of good things about it - and all of it was justified. We all liked the places a lot. I was able to get lots of food that worked for me. I had meatloaf, a pork chop, a little ham, broiled fish, bbq pork. I also had asparagus, plums, kiwi, strawberries, oranges, and melon. I did NOT have any desserts. I also avoided all the casseroles, breads, starches. I probably ate a little ore than I should, but I didn't have any problem foods.
SUNDAY DINNER: I had some leftover turkey breast. So I made one of my patented Staples Leftover Skillets. I sauteed onions, shoepeg corn, whole grain rice-a-roni (with brown rice, barley, other grains), and turkey. I threw in some yogurt ranch dressing to make it creamier. Very tasty.
SUNDAY DESSERT: I had a half of an apple, a banana, and some peanut butter.
So, as you can see, I was completely out of control this weekend. Just going buck wild, eating whatever fell into my field of vision. NO! I didn't. There were times I wanted to just not care and eat a cupcake or have some raisin cinnamon roll or a chocolate dipped cookie or even lick some icing off my finger. But I didn't. I didn't cheat at all. It was a tough weekend to stay on track. But I did. And that is what is so freaking frustrating. I did it right and still gained weight.
I can identify a couple of things that may have contributed. First, we ate out more than usual. We hardly ever go out any more. So I am in control of what goes into our food. But this weekend there were many opportunities elsewhere. Second, due to those places, I took in far more sodium than I usually do. The salt content in sauces and prepared food are always higher. I could taste the salt in several meals. Third, I ate more than I should have. The problem with buffets is that, even when you control the types of food, it is hard to control the quantity of food. I went to two buffets this weekend. And while a trip to one of those places every couple of weeks may work, going to two in one weekend does not work. Fourth, I wasn't able to do my Wii Fit since Thursday night. I don't know how much that affected things, but I'm sure it didn't help.
I hope things even back out this week. I am going to try to be more regimented with my meals. I try to go back to a very strict diet on weeks after a disappointing weigh-in. I make sure I do my yogurt in the morning. And I usually make a pot of chili, since that gives me multiple meals within a week. It goes to show how quickly things can derail. Imagine if I had "taken the weekend off" like I would have done in years past! So it's time to regroup and move on.
Oh and expect a post tomorrow. There's one I have been planning to write to correspond to tomorrow's date.
I got very frustrated. The worst part of it is that I didn't do anything wrong. I know the first thought someone has when someone gains weight on a diet is, "I guess they cheated bad this weekend." But I didn't. I actually went out of my way to do well. That's what was so frustrating. I remember one time talking to my mom a few years back. She was trying so hard to eat right, be conscious of her food intake. She was depriving herself of stuff she liked in favor of oatmeal, whole grains, stuff like that. The next time she went to the doctor, her cholesterol went up and she had lost nothing. And then her brother at the same time, who ate horribly, reported his low numbers. (My dad was like this. He ate sausage and eggs every morning and tons of horrible food - and had ridiculously low cholesterol.)
There are few things more discouraging than gaining weight when you are trying to lose it. This was a bizarre weekend. We had the gala on Friday night. On Saturday, Heather's parents were here and we celebrated my birthday early. Sunday was church. But I had worked hard to not let those things affect my food intake. Just to show what I mean.
FRIDAY NIGHT: We had a pre-gala get together at one of Heather's friends' places. There were chips and dips, baked brie with bread, and my fruit with peanut butter yogurt dip. I avoided everything but apples and celery with the pby dip. At the gala, I had salad with berry vinaigrette dressing instead of ranch. I didn't have any rolls. I only drank water. I didn't eat my potatoes. I picked the cheese out of the stuffed chicken and pulled the breading off. So I just had the chicken and veggies. And I had nothing from the chocolate fountain.
SATURDAY MORNING: I took some peanut butter and mixed it up with plain yogurt. Then I cut up a banana and mixed it in. That was my breakfast.
SATURDAY LUNCH: This was my "birthday dinner." We went to Genghis Grill. It is a Mongolian BBQ. Basically you go to a buffet type thing and pick meats, veggies, spices, sauces and put them in a bowl. You pick a starch to go with it. Then the chefs cook it on a giant hot grill. I picked various meats, carrots, beans, snow peas, tomatoes, spinach and a HALF serving of brown rice. It was awesome - and like 500 calories for the whole thing.
SATURDAY SURPRISE: Obviously, I was not going to have a cake. So Heather ordered me an Edible Arrangements birthday fruit bouquet. This company is awesome. They cut fruit and put them on skewers to make it mimic a flower arrangement. So I had a bunch of fruit with melted peanut butter - while everyone else scarfed cupcakes.
SATURDAY DINNER: Heather's parents had gone home, and the kids were very upset (as usual). So to cheer them up (and since I didn't have anything ready for dinner), I got them pizza. I didn't eat pizza. I had wings - but with just mild sauce (and very small amounts of that). I also had celery, carrots, and fruit with it. During all of these things, I'm drinking tons of water.
SUNDAY LUNCH: I had skipped breakfast (booo!). For lunch we tried Seminole Wind buffet. I had heard lots of good things about it - and all of it was justified. We all liked the places a lot. I was able to get lots of food that worked for me. I had meatloaf, a pork chop, a little ham, broiled fish, bbq pork. I also had asparagus, plums, kiwi, strawberries, oranges, and melon. I did NOT have any desserts. I also avoided all the casseroles, breads, starches. I probably ate a little ore than I should, but I didn't have any problem foods.
SUNDAY DINNER: I had some leftover turkey breast. So I made one of my patented Staples Leftover Skillets. I sauteed onions, shoepeg corn, whole grain rice-a-roni (with brown rice, barley, other grains), and turkey. I threw in some yogurt ranch dressing to make it creamier. Very tasty.
SUNDAY DESSERT: I had a half of an apple, a banana, and some peanut butter.
So, as you can see, I was completely out of control this weekend. Just going buck wild, eating whatever fell into my field of vision. NO! I didn't. There were times I wanted to just not care and eat a cupcake or have some raisin cinnamon roll or a chocolate dipped cookie or even lick some icing off my finger. But I didn't. I didn't cheat at all. It was a tough weekend to stay on track. But I did. And that is what is so freaking frustrating. I did it right and still gained weight.
I can identify a couple of things that may have contributed. First, we ate out more than usual. We hardly ever go out any more. So I am in control of what goes into our food. But this weekend there were many opportunities elsewhere. Second, due to those places, I took in far more sodium than I usually do. The salt content in sauces and prepared food are always higher. I could taste the salt in several meals. Third, I ate more than I should have. The problem with buffets is that, even when you control the types of food, it is hard to control the quantity of food. I went to two buffets this weekend. And while a trip to one of those places every couple of weeks may work, going to two in one weekend does not work. Fourth, I wasn't able to do my Wii Fit since Thursday night. I don't know how much that affected things, but I'm sure it didn't help.
I hope things even back out this week. I am going to try to be more regimented with my meals. I try to go back to a very strict diet on weeks after a disappointing weigh-in. I make sure I do my yogurt in the morning. And I usually make a pot of chili, since that gives me multiple meals within a week. It goes to show how quickly things can derail. Imagine if I had "taken the weekend off" like I would have done in years past! So it's time to regroup and move on.
Oh and expect a post tomorrow. There's one I have been planning to write to correspond to tomorrow's date.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The Gala
I will preface this by saying that I DETEST formal gatherings like this. I hated prom. I hated the formals I went to. I hate them. I think the entire concept of a formal guarantees that you will be uncomfortable unless alcohol is entered into the equation. Think about it. You wear the most uncomfortable outfit that you can find. Guys have to wear suits or tuxedos. Both of these are created to make a man feel awful. They are hot. The neck is tight and constricting. They are scratchy. Girls have it even worse. They have to cram themselves into the tightest dress imaginable. Most of them are on the verge of showing all kinds of things that shouldn't see the light of day. And then they have to sit in them and eat - and then dance.
I loathe these things. (Don't worry - Heather isn't a fan either.) The strange thing is that if you put me up front at one of these things - to speak or preach or emcee - I'm perfectly fine. Sure, I'm nervous. But, I am less nervous up in front than sitting at the table. If I'm not one of the leader people, I just want to melt into the background. I want to sit with my friends and talk. But that doesn't work too well. These events are always loud - especially come dancing time. So it is pretty hard to talk or hang out. Plus there are all those people who keep coming up and asking why you aren't dancing.
This is where my size has always caused an issue. First of all, I have not looked good in a monkey suit for a looooong time. The last time I remember feeling good in a suit was back in high school when I was in chorus and we wore tuxes all the time. I felt okay then. But I have felt awkward ever since then. I have strange measurements. I have a very long torso and average to short legs. My inseam is only 31" - very short for a 6'3" guy. With my enormous gut, my torso became even longer - to get over my stomach. I have broad shoulders and longer arms than what normally comes with my shirt size. So most of my suits have to be a higher chest size than I need to fit around my stomach. So they billow out around my chest and barely button. The arms are either too short or way to long. The pants bunch up around my shoes. Or I have to wear suspenders to keep my pants up - which than yanks the pants up into my crotch. So I hate suits.
Second, I hate dancing. There is no gracefulness in my body. I lumber. It isn't easy to get this bulk to move, let along move in a dancing fashion. I often tell people that I look like a shaved bear. There is a reason that dancing bears used to be in the circus. They are crazy looking. And I just don't look good dancing. Neither do I. It's the same reason that we never saw Wookies have a formal. And if for some reason I do end up dancing, my partner is almost always much smaller than me. So it highlights my enormousness.
All of that was just swirling around my head in preparing for this gala. Last year when found out about the gala. I really just was dreading it. But I knew that it was important to Heather. And, as I told someone last night, I hate these events - but I love my wife more than I hate formals. I wanted to look my best for her. When I started this food/weight battle, I laid out some goals for myself. One of them was that I wanted to be under 300 pounds for the gala. I knew that was ambitious. I would have to lose 55 pounds in twelve weeks. I told my friend Charles this - and he kept encouraging me to aim for it. As the weight started falling off, it became pretty clear I could reach the goal. And it was obvious I would need some kind of wardrobe adjustments. I had one suit, but the last time I wore it the buttons couldn't even button - and I had gained weight from that point. All my ties were in storage. And my dress shirts were rapidly becoming clownishly large on me. Shoot, I didn't even have shoes to go with the suit.
So Charles helped me out - because he's awesome like that. Many years ago, Charles sold high end suits - so he is an expert at sizing. He measured my old suit and marked exactly what needed altered - bringing in the jacket, hemming the pants, tightening up the waist. Then he took me to the store and got me a shirt that actually fit, a tie, a belt, and some new shoes. I didn't actually have the whole outfit in my hands - altered, cleaned, and ready - until Thursday. I was very nervous. But, when I finally put the clothes on, I almost cried.
Of course, part of it also was that I had an absolutely gorgeous woman with me. Heather looked incredible in her dress. And it was nice to be able to actually go out to an adult gathering with her. She has been so supportive of me and my efforts. (In addition to being so patient for the first nine and a half years of our marriage when I didn't give a crap about my weight.) And last night, when we were hanging out with her classmates, she kept on bragging about my weight loss. I understand that feeling, because I wanted to brag about her. I'm very proud of her. Med school is hard. Med school with three kids? Yeah. Absolutely wild. She is an amazing woman. And I was thrilled to be able to sit - and dance - with her last night. I was also glad that I was able to do it sitting tall and unashamed. (What's even more amazing is how things will look NEXT year at the gala.)
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Dreams
I posted this over on my other blog, too. But it kind of applied to both. So it gets dual treatment.
I have never had much use for dreams. I don't mean the life aspirations kind of dreams. "I have a dream to be a late night talk show host." Those are useful - rarely realized - but useful. I mean the kind of dreams that invade your mind, wrecking an otherwise peaceful sleep. Some people dream all the time. It's usually really vivid stuff. And they can remember almost all of them the next morning. My wife and daughter are both like this. Every morning they can give you a rundown of their dreams. I'm not like this. I guess I dream like most people, but I rarely can remember them the next day. I'm talking maybe once a month. (Until recently, when it has been happening almost daily.) So when I do, they are usually very vivid and/or troubling dreams. And my mind has trouble differentiating between what happens in my dream and real life. So I'll wake up all upset or scared for no good reason. Fun stuff.
Most of my dreams are troubling. It is almost like my mind dips into all the stuff that scares the crud out of me and creates a movie out of it. There have been dreams about losing the kids. A large number of my dreams involve me getting into a fight or getting attacked. I'll get into huge arguments with people - ones that have massive ramifications within my dream world. And, I guess this is normal, I'm naked a lot in my dreams. Like, when I shouldn't be. I'll be running around trying to hide myself while at the United Nations to argue with someone. Weird stuff like that.
I have had very memorable dreams where I got into a big knock down, drag out fight with a work superior that I was having trouble with in real life. That is always a problem. You wake up and are all wary of the person when you get to work. My mind is on hyper-alert with that person - all because in the dream I finally unloaded all the stuff that I had bottled up in real life. Even now, I'll have dreams involving massive showdowns with former pastors, bosses, nemeses - usually they are people that I didn't feel resolved with when they left my daily interactions. I'll be all irritated at them all over again - only they are peacefully doing their daily routine five hours away.
It's always weird who ends up in a dream. Completely random. Like, I won't think about a person for years. Then one night, WHAM, they are there running around with me trying to overthrow some evil overlord. And my mind has the ability to come up with some wacky stuff. Back when I was in elementary school, I had this horrible nightmare where I was getting attacked by all these weird monsters. The one that absolutely freaked me out was this guy who had what looked like a dryer hose coming out of his suit where his neck and head should be. (Kind of like Chairface Chippendale from The Tick, but a dryer hose instead of a chair.) But, it was really a big vacuum hose, and it actually would suck things towards him. I always called him Vacuum Cleaner Man. It was horrifying. And the worst thing is that I took one of my infrequent weekend naps that day and the stupid dream picked up right where it left off the night before. Back to running away from Vacuum Man. (Must have been generated by my extreme hatred of housework.)
I very rarely have happy dreams. But I did have one the other day. It was like I was watching a "Behind the Music" show - one of those television documentaries. It was about Steve Burns, from Blue's Clues. Of course, it also was a melding of other shows - like Bob the Builder. Steve was narrating the show. He was talking about how the show had been going well. Then he said, "But things were about to get tougher. Little did they know the controversy that would soon erupt. What was the problem? Take a look at this video and you'll see." Then a clip started to play. Blue was riding down a hill on a sled. Steve came running up from behind and jumped on the sled and they raced down the snow. Trees and houses were whipping along behind, and then there was a flash of orange for just a second. "Did you see it? If we slow it down, you'll see what many people perceived as a cross in the background." The film slowed down as they passed the orange and, sure enough, it was a weirdly shaped orange cross. "People soon began to accuse Steve of the unthinkable - that he was claiming to be . . . Jesus Christ." (What?!?) Steve continued in that typical overly emphatic voice that narrators use. "Many people found this accusation ridiculous. And Steve, of course, denied it. But, little did they know . . . that Steve . . . had the twelve apostles in his backyard . . . as lawn chairs." And it cut to a series of pictures showing his backyard. Sure enough, there were a whole bunch of molded plastic chairs that looked like caricatures of the Twelve Apostles. Their arms formed the arms, their legs were the front two legs, their face was the upper back of the chair, and the rest of the chair looked like robes. They showed Peter, John, James. Then I woke up. I had to laugh at that whole thing.
A lot of people have sexy dreams. (Uh, oh, where is this going?) It is pretty common. And, according to dream analysts, they don't mean anything. This type is not as frequent for me as other types. Sometimes, an element of that will take place when I am running around naked trying to fight ninjas. You know, like in the movies where two people in extreme danger find time to make whoopie. Like there isn't anything better they could be doing to prepare for the impending doom. But, my strong sense of inner morality always short circuits those sections. That has been the case since I was a teenager. Very strange - like a subconscious dream purity ring.
I think the worst dreams are the ones that involve things that are so close to life that it takes supreme effort to convince myself it didn't happen. A few months back, I had a dream where my good friend and ministry partner Charles and I had a really ugly fight. It was nasty. At the end of the dream, we ended up disbanding Defender Ministries and swearing to never talk to each other. I had such a hard time the next day that Heather had me call Charles, just so my mind could reboot. I felt stupid, but it worked.
The reason that I was even thinking about all of this was because last night I had a rough dream. My family and my in-laws were all at some big fancy house (kind of like the one in Modern Family last night). We were waiting for some guests to arrive. And I was all excited because everyone was going to see how much weight I had lost. I was nervous all day, so I kept munching on food. Mostly it was just almonds. But I also drained a container of cheese balls. (I HATE cheese balls. But the kids had some the other day, so that must be where that came from.) Finally, the other people showed up. My Aunt Dee was there (but in a wheelchair). And there were several other people too. I came running down the circular staircase without a shirt on (but, oddly, not completely naked). And they all criticized me because I hadn't lost enough weight. They thought they would be more impressed. And, cue alarm clock.
Needless to say, I felt pretty bad about myself when I woke up. I try not to take too many messages from dreams. I think they are so wacky that you could drive yourself crazy trying to figure out what was going on. Or you could come up with some bizarre conclusions that really would mess you up if you tried to apply them. But I am pretty sure that our insecurities in life do seep into our dreams. Maybe that's why I'm always naked - I'm afraid that people will see me for what I really look like. I know if I am troubled that I will often have more vivid troubling dreams. (Hmmm, I've had those every day this week. I wonder what that says.) I don't know what I should take from last night's dream. Maybe I am afraid that even after all this work, that other people still see me as a big fat failure. Maybe I'm worried that I am going to start eating things I shouldn't. Maybe it was nothing more than the turkey last night didn't sit well.
Fortunately, battling dreams isn't a whole lot different than battling my own perceptions. I frequently will assume that people around me are thinking something about me or secretly judging me. "Hey look at that fat guy. Man, he's fat. And what's he thinking wearing THOSE shoes?" In reality, they probably didn't even realize I was there. They were too busy worrying that everyone was judging THEM. Part of my food addiction efforts has been convincing myself that what I think other people are saying about me, is actually what I am saying about myself. So I have to fight my inner dialogue (which, trust me, can be more vicious than anything anyone else would say to me). When I start in on myself, I have to fight those statements with truth. And that is the same thing I have to do with dreams. Because, let's face it, neither perceptions nor dreams have anything to do with reality. Now if I can just find a way to stay dressed...
I have never had much use for dreams. I don't mean the life aspirations kind of dreams. "I have a dream to be a late night talk show host." Those are useful - rarely realized - but useful. I mean the kind of dreams that invade your mind, wrecking an otherwise peaceful sleep. Some people dream all the time. It's usually really vivid stuff. And they can remember almost all of them the next morning. My wife and daughter are both like this. Every morning they can give you a rundown of their dreams. I'm not like this. I guess I dream like most people, but I rarely can remember them the next day. I'm talking maybe once a month. (Until recently, when it has been happening almost daily.) So when I do, they are usually very vivid and/or troubling dreams. And my mind has trouble differentiating between what happens in my dream and real life. So I'll wake up all upset or scared for no good reason. Fun stuff.
Most of my dreams are troubling. It is almost like my mind dips into all the stuff that scares the crud out of me and creates a movie out of it. There have been dreams about losing the kids. A large number of my dreams involve me getting into a fight or getting attacked. I'll get into huge arguments with people - ones that have massive ramifications within my dream world. And, I guess this is normal, I'm naked a lot in my dreams. Like, when I shouldn't be. I'll be running around trying to hide myself while at the United Nations to argue with someone. Weird stuff like that.
I have had very memorable dreams where I got into a big knock down, drag out fight with a work superior that I was having trouble with in real life. That is always a problem. You wake up and are all wary of the person when you get to work. My mind is on hyper-alert with that person - all because in the dream I finally unloaded all the stuff that I had bottled up in real life. Even now, I'll have dreams involving massive showdowns with former pastors, bosses, nemeses - usually they are people that I didn't feel resolved with when they left my daily interactions. I'll be all irritated at them all over again - only they are peacefully doing their daily routine five hours away.
It's always weird who ends up in a dream. Completely random. Like, I won't think about a person for years. Then one night, WHAM, they are there running around with me trying to overthrow some evil overlord. And my mind has the ability to come up with some wacky stuff. Back when I was in elementary school, I had this horrible nightmare where I was getting attacked by all these weird monsters. The one that absolutely freaked me out was this guy who had what looked like a dryer hose coming out of his suit where his neck and head should be. (Kind of like Chairface Chippendale from The Tick, but a dryer hose instead of a chair.) But, it was really a big vacuum hose, and it actually would suck things towards him. I always called him Vacuum Cleaner Man. It was horrifying. And the worst thing is that I took one of my infrequent weekend naps that day and the stupid dream picked up right where it left off the night before. Back to running away from Vacuum Man. (Must have been generated by my extreme hatred of housework.)
I very rarely have happy dreams. But I did have one the other day. It was like I was watching a "Behind the Music" show - one of those television documentaries. It was about Steve Burns, from Blue's Clues. Of course, it also was a melding of other shows - like Bob the Builder. Steve was narrating the show. He was talking about how the show had been going well. Then he said, "But things were about to get tougher. Little did they know the controversy that would soon erupt. What was the problem? Take a look at this video and you'll see." Then a clip started to play. Blue was riding down a hill on a sled. Steve came running up from behind and jumped on the sled and they raced down the snow. Trees and houses were whipping along behind, and then there was a flash of orange for just a second. "Did you see it? If we slow it down, you'll see what many people perceived as a cross in the background." The film slowed down as they passed the orange and, sure enough, it was a weirdly shaped orange cross. "People soon began to accuse Steve of the unthinkable - that he was claiming to be . . . Jesus Christ." (What?!?) Steve continued in that typical overly emphatic voice that narrators use. "Many people found this accusation ridiculous. And Steve, of course, denied it. But, little did they know . . . that Steve . . . had the twelve apostles in his backyard . . . as lawn chairs." And it cut to a series of pictures showing his backyard. Sure enough, there were a whole bunch of molded plastic chairs that looked like caricatures of the Twelve Apostles. Their arms formed the arms, their legs were the front two legs, their face was the upper back of the chair, and the rest of the chair looked like robes. They showed Peter, John, James. Then I woke up. I had to laugh at that whole thing.
A lot of people have sexy dreams. (Uh, oh, where is this going?) It is pretty common. And, according to dream analysts, they don't mean anything. This type is not as frequent for me as other types. Sometimes, an element of that will take place when I am running around naked trying to fight ninjas. You know, like in the movies where two people in extreme danger find time to make whoopie. Like there isn't anything better they could be doing to prepare for the impending doom. But, my strong sense of inner morality always short circuits those sections. That has been the case since I was a teenager. Very strange - like a subconscious dream purity ring.
I think the worst dreams are the ones that involve things that are so close to life that it takes supreme effort to convince myself it didn't happen. A few months back, I had a dream where my good friend and ministry partner Charles and I had a really ugly fight. It was nasty. At the end of the dream, we ended up disbanding Defender Ministries and swearing to never talk to each other. I had such a hard time the next day that Heather had me call Charles, just so my mind could reboot. I felt stupid, but it worked.
The reason that I was even thinking about all of this was because last night I had a rough dream. My family and my in-laws were all at some big fancy house (kind of like the one in Modern Family last night). We were waiting for some guests to arrive. And I was all excited because everyone was going to see how much weight I had lost. I was nervous all day, so I kept munching on food. Mostly it was just almonds. But I also drained a container of cheese balls. (I HATE cheese balls. But the kids had some the other day, so that must be where that came from.) Finally, the other people showed up. My Aunt Dee was there (but in a wheelchair). And there were several other people too. I came running down the circular staircase without a shirt on (but, oddly, not completely naked). And they all criticized me because I hadn't lost enough weight. They thought they would be more impressed. And, cue alarm clock.
Needless to say, I felt pretty bad about myself when I woke up. I try not to take too many messages from dreams. I think they are so wacky that you could drive yourself crazy trying to figure out what was going on. Or you could come up with some bizarre conclusions that really would mess you up if you tried to apply them. But I am pretty sure that our insecurities in life do seep into our dreams. Maybe that's why I'm always naked - I'm afraid that people will see me for what I really look like. I know if I am troubled that I will often have more vivid troubling dreams. (Hmmm, I've had those every day this week. I wonder what that says.) I don't know what I should take from last night's dream. Maybe I am afraid that even after all this work, that other people still see me as a big fat failure. Maybe I'm worried that I am going to start eating things I shouldn't. Maybe it was nothing more than the turkey last night didn't sit well.
Fortunately, battling dreams isn't a whole lot different than battling my own perceptions. I frequently will assume that people around me are thinking something about me or secretly judging me. "Hey look at that fat guy. Man, he's fat. And what's he thinking wearing THOSE shoes?" In reality, they probably didn't even realize I was there. They were too busy worrying that everyone was judging THEM. Part of my food addiction efforts has been convincing myself that what I think other people are saying about me, is actually what I am saying about myself. So I have to fight my inner dialogue (which, trust me, can be more vicious than anything anyone else would say to me). When I start in on myself, I have to fight those statements with truth. And that is the same thing I have to do with dreams. Because, let's face it, neither perceptions nor dreams have anything to do with reality. Now if I can just find a way to stay dressed...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
299.8
I was slowly inching towards one of my biggest milestones the last couple weeks. I actually hit 300.4 and stayed there for five days or so. It was like it was taunting me. I could say I was AT 300 pounds. But I hadn't cracked that number yet. Well, on Tuesday, I finally did. 299.8. Sure, according to the laws of rounding, it still is 300. But on the scale it read as under. So I claim victory on that point.
300 pounds is a HUGE deal. I don't really remember when I crossed it originally - some time when I was living in Tampa. I can honestly say that during those four plus years, I never weighed unless I was at a doctor's office. And I never was at a doctor's office unless I HAD to be. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I visited a doctor in those - and one of them was actually a visit to the hospital for unexplained back pains. (They never did figure it out.) So I can't really track when I hit milestones on the way up.
Being over 300 pounds is a horrible feeling - something I would never encourage anyone to do. There is a huge stigma associated with that weight - and with good reason. Unless you are a professional athlete or giant, there is not really a good reason to be that heavy. Our bodies are not created to carry that much bulk. I am a big guy. Even when I lose weight, I still will be a big guy. I'm 6'2" or 6'3". I have big bones. I have a large frame. But I can honestly tell you that my body was breaking down toting the amount of excess weight I had. Even now, at 299.8, I know that my body is straining under the weight. I am far from done.
I know that in my own body, that 300 is the dividing line between overweight and out of control. There is just something about the total. [That isn't to slam people who are over 300 pounds. I am just talking about myself and my own thoughts.] There isn't anything magical about crossing the barrier. It is all a mental thing.
That is one of the biggest lessons I have learned in this whole thing. Weight loss is not so much about waist size as brain power. In times past, I have demonstrated an ability to lose weight. But I have not shown that I can maintain that loss or that I can actually control my desires. This time, it is like a switch flipped in my head. And I was able for the first time ever to just draw the line and not cross it. People still ask me how I'm doing - especially on rough days like today. "You doing okay with the food?" But, right now, the thought of me turning to my trouble foods in time of stress is just as improbable as downing a beer. This afternoon I was VERY stressed. It seemed like the weight of all the problems in my life came crashing down on me. I also had not eaten very much today. So there was that moment when I felt my body pushing me to eat something to "make things all better." I truly was hungry, I was weak, and I was needing a boost. So I grabbed two handfuls of my trail mix blend and ate a banana with peanut butter. Hunger was disolved. It didn't solve any of the other many issues weighing me down, but neither would have a Resee's peanut butter egg or ice cream. It was a mental victory. Just like crossing the 300 pound barrier is a mental victory. And that is one barrier I never want to have to cross again.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Wii Fit
A while back, Heather's super awesome parents got all their kids Nintendo Wii systems. One of the reasons for it was the new item Nintendo had introduced - the Wii Fit. For the three of you who have never used or seen a Wii, the Wii Fit is a balance board that interacts with the fitness program on the Wii. This enables you to work out using the Nintendo Wii game. Pretty cool stuff. It was wildly popular when it was introduced (still is, actually). So we were thrilled to get the system - and Heather got the Fit for her birthday later that year.
Well, we all went to set up our profiles. Heather did hers. Nintendo is pretty blunt about its assessment of your weight, BMI, and general health. It even assigns you a Wii Fit Age - combining your BMI, your balance, strength. The kids did theirs. It all looked pretty cool. I even decided to give it a shot. Yes, me the anti-exercise person willingly climbed onto the balance board. I guess I thought this might actually work.
Well, when I stepped on the board, it gasped audibly. Then it asked how many people were on it. Then it told me that I was too fat to work out. I needed to get the prescription version. Seriously, it told me, "Please get off. You exceed the weight limit." I had literally become too fat to get in shape. It was kind of disheartening. Even though I laughed it off, it really hurt. (See my earlier post on humor to compensate for insecurity.) I wanted to use the system, but that wasn't possible. And, knowing me, I probably buried my sadness in a big bowl of ice cream.
Fast forward about fifteen months later. Now, I have just finished my twelfth week of my new way of life. I have lost 55 pounds. My weight is exactly 300. I have dropped 10 inches off of my waist. My shirt size has dropped two sizes. My neck has gone down three inches. It is a whole new world. And so, today, I made myself vulnerable again to a piece of circuitry and plastic. After Gabe was in bed and Josiah had finished battled the evil hordes in Mario Galaxy, I got out the Wii Fit and climbed on board.
Being perfectly honest, I had no idea what the maximum weight was on the Fit. I figured it couldn't be lower that 300 - that is a pretty common top point for a scale. But I was very nervix. (That's a word I made up a few years ago - trying to get it some traction.) With much relief, the Wii allowed me to play this time. It did some basic tests that proved some things about me. One, I am still obese (good deduction). Two, I have horrible balance. It asked me if I find myself tripping often. Heck and yes. I am so stinking clumsy. So the balance didn't surprise me. Three, I am weak and in poor shape. It took a machine to come up with this? My BMI was registered at 37. That is pretty bad, but it is a lot better than it was. When I started this, my BMI was 45. My Wii Fit age was 54. That is NOT good.
I actually had fun. It was hard. I only did about 20 minutes tonight. But I tried several balance and aerobic exercises. I could feel it even in that short time. Tonight was just a trial. But I really do plan on trying to do this frequently. I figure that I will have a great chance of being successful with the Wii, since I have time at night to use it. I also am looking into getting the EA Fitness series - which expands the workout options. It's hard to believe that you can lose weight by playing video games. I look forward to trying.
Well, we all went to set up our profiles. Heather did hers. Nintendo is pretty blunt about its assessment of your weight, BMI, and general health. It even assigns you a Wii Fit Age - combining your BMI, your balance, strength. The kids did theirs. It all looked pretty cool. I even decided to give it a shot. Yes, me the anti-exercise person willingly climbed onto the balance board. I guess I thought this might actually work.
Well, when I stepped on the board, it gasped audibly. Then it asked how many people were on it. Then it told me that I was too fat to work out. I needed to get the prescription version. Seriously, it told me, "Please get off. You exceed the weight limit." I had literally become too fat to get in shape. It was kind of disheartening. Even though I laughed it off, it really hurt. (See my earlier post on humor to compensate for insecurity.) I wanted to use the system, but that wasn't possible. And, knowing me, I probably buried my sadness in a big bowl of ice cream.
Fast forward about fifteen months later. Now, I have just finished my twelfth week of my new way of life. I have lost 55 pounds. My weight is exactly 300. I have dropped 10 inches off of my waist. My shirt size has dropped two sizes. My neck has gone down three inches. It is a whole new world. And so, today, I made myself vulnerable again to a piece of circuitry and plastic. After Gabe was in bed and Josiah had finished battled the evil hordes in Mario Galaxy, I got out the Wii Fit and climbed on board.
Being perfectly honest, I had no idea what the maximum weight was on the Fit. I figured it couldn't be lower that 300 - that is a pretty common top point for a scale. But I was very nervix. (That's a word I made up a few years ago - trying to get it some traction.) With much relief, the Wii allowed me to play this time. It did some basic tests that proved some things about me. One, I am still obese (good deduction). Two, I have horrible balance. It asked me if I find myself tripping often. Heck and yes. I am so stinking clumsy. So the balance didn't surprise me. Three, I am weak and in poor shape. It took a machine to come up with this? My BMI was registered at 37. That is pretty bad, but it is a lot better than it was. When I started this, my BMI was 45. My Wii Fit age was 54. That is NOT good.
I actually had fun. It was hard. I only did about 20 minutes tonight. But I tried several balance and aerobic exercises. I could feel it even in that short time. Tonight was just a trial. But I really do plan on trying to do this frequently. I figure that I will have a great chance of being successful with the Wii, since I have time at night to use it. I also am looking into getting the EA Fitness series - which expands the workout options. It's hard to believe that you can lose weight by playing video games. I look forward to trying.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Say Cheese
Last weekend, my family went up to Rock Hill, South Carolina for Easter weekend. It was also the first birthday party for my niece, Beulah. (For more information on that miracle baby, check out her mom's blog.) So, all five of us joined up with Heather's parents, Heather's brother Mike and his wife Ria, Ria's sister Becky, and Heather's brother Andy and his wife Michelle and daughter Beulah. It was a really nice trip and we all had a great time together. We had a fun party for Beulah. My kids enjoyed harassing her - uh - I mean, playing with her. We had a great Easter service at Andy's church. And we did family pictures.
Pictures are always a risky gamble for a fat person. I hate going back through old pictures and seeing how enormous I looked. As long as I am just living in my own head, I can imagine that I am still a 25 year old, 250 pound guy. But, when pictures get dragged out, it is very apparent that I am a nearly 36 year old. And my weight is VERY obvious. I am stunned when I look back at our Christmas pictures and see how large I let myself get without stopping. There have also been times in the past when I have had some unfortunate pictures due to my weight. I remember when I worked at USF, the BCM staff got together at the director's house for a Christmas party. We all got on their sectional and took a picture together. When the pictures came back, there I was sitting there. And my button up shirt had spread open at the bottom to reveal my stomach and belly button. Nothing says Merry Christmas like a big fat guy with his gut hanging out. (This has actually happened on several occasions - the surprise navel visitor. I hate that guy.)
Then there is the angle issue. As if just being jumbo sized isn't enough, there are angles you can be photographed that makes you look even worse. It is one of those perspective shots. You know how if you take a picture of a person sitting in a recliner from the end of the chair, it looks like they have enormous feet and a really tiny head? Well, there are ways I have been photographed that has made my torso section appear even more out of whack. Of course, even the most professional shot could still look that way. You know, due to the fact that my gut had gotten huge.
There also is the basic issue that comes from weighing twice as much as any other member of your extended family. The last time the entire Crissinger group had gotten together for a picture was around nine years ago. They were great pictures, but I always hated them because I am just a much much bigger person than them. They all are very tiny people (my wife included). And Heather's brothers married tiny wives. Even if I wasn't grossly obese, I still would be larger than them. But, when I was crushing ice cream daily, I looked like Shrek compared to the other fairy tale creatures. It was like a shaved bear had wandered into a regular family's photo shoot. And I was at least 25 pounds lighter then than when I started this whole thing.
This time was different. I approached the picture differently. I actually looked forward to it. Part of it is that it is very apparent that I am much smaller than I used to be - even though I still have like 100 pounds to go. I was looking forward to getting a picture to replace some of the ones floating around out there now - that looks like I got stung by a bee and then ate the bee and a cartload of Honey Smacks to punish the bee. I knew that I still would look bigger than everyone else. But I also knew the progress I had made. (I actually weigh about 25 pounds less than in that picture from nine years ago.) I got a new shirt and got ready for the shoot.
I have never liked getting pictures taken. To kill my nervousness and awkwardness, I came up with goofy things to do in pictures. In college, I would wait until the picture was about to get taken and then stare off in a different direction. It was a little game I played. For two years straight, I don't think I was in a group shot where I was facing the camera. In high school and college, I used to mess with other people in the picture. I would have my arm behind them and goose them or tickle them. Or I would make stupid faces. This is a classic maneuver that ruined many good pictures. Just ask my mother. I had this stupid smile I did that was just dumb. I would raise my eyebrows, open my eyes really big, and grin really huge. Hundreds of pictures have been taken of this smile. Everyone I know hates it. I would throw up fake gang symbols. I would glare at the camera, like I was going to kill the cameraman. Or I would just make a weird monster face. Shoot - even the picture I have used for months on my Facebook and blogs is me doing Zoolander's Blue Steel pose.
I think all of this was to draw attention away from my stomach. It usually works. When the pictures come back, most people say, "Man, look at your face." Or "why can't you look at the camera." Or "Oh my gosh, that face is hilarious." But rarely do people say, "Good night, look at how huge you are." This is part of my way to deal with my embarrassment over my weight. Draw attention away from the stomach. I have always worn my clothes loose to mask the gut. (And the man boobs. Can't forget the man boobs.) I walk bent over so that my gut doesn't stand out so much. I constantly am pulling at my shirt to make it look looser - which is why all the button holes in my shirt get stretched out. And then there is the joking. One of the reasons I have joked so much over the years, especially regarding my weight, is to deflect embarrassment. I figured if I poked fun at myself, it would address what everyone else was already thinking about me. But it would diffuse it. I guess I thought people would think that if I didn't care about the weight (which I demonstrated by joking), then they shouldn't care either.
The problem was that I did care. That is why I did all those things. I hated myself. I hated my body. Seeing my gut made me angry and sad and miserable. The jokes were for me - not anyone else. The shirt, the walk, the goofy faces were to distract me. If I couldn't see the gut, then I wouldn't feel so rotten. And if I could just laugh at my goofy face, then I would have something to look at in the picture without being upset. But, it never worked. The first place I always looked at in a picture was my stomach. Other people would be like, "Oh what a great family" or "You all look so happy." And I would immediately just see the gut. So I largely avoided pictures. It is pretty interesting, when there is a bunch of pictures taken of our family or at an event, there are going to be tons of pictures of the kids. And there will be pictures of my wife, or of other people. But there is usually only a small amount of pictures of me. I don't volunteer myself. It usually only happens when I can't avoid it.
So that is why my excitement over these family pictures was so weird. There was a mixed bag of emotions. I felt stupid in my shirt. I was worried that it would make me look like Shrek again - except this time dressed as a old school Bucs fan. (It was an orange shirt.) But there was a lurking happiness. I even went so far as to ask for shots of just me to replace the stupid ones I have out there now. And I willingly posed with Heather. It was kind of big deal to me. I knew that the kids would look fabulous. And Heather would be beautiful as always - same for the rest of the family. But this time, I was hoping I would also look good.
At lunch on Easter, I was chatting with Mike, Ria, and Becky about if things have changed a lot for me. And one of the things I thought about was confidence. I never had it. I would slump and look at the floor. I moved slow. But now I noticed that has changed. I walk more upright. I try to look up and make eye contact with people. I walk more briskly. There is a confidence there. I know that to anyone else, I still look big. I'm sure there are still people out there that see me at a restaurant and think to themselves something rotten about me. But I know the changes that have happened. And so I am more confident in my daily life. I guess that is what came through on picture day.
I would like to end this post by saying everything went great. But that isn't true. Even though I looked a lot smaller than I did at Christmas, I still am over 300 pounds. So I still look big in the pictures. And my shirt spreads too much at the stomach in most of the ones with Heather. That was the first thing I noticed. And I want to crop them so I don't have to see that. The pictures, unfortunately, remind me of how far I have to go. But they also are a reminder of how far I've come.
And for those of you wanting to see the pictures (especially of my awesome cute kids) - trust me, they'll go up as soon as possible.
Pictures are always a risky gamble for a fat person. I hate going back through old pictures and seeing how enormous I looked. As long as I am just living in my own head, I can imagine that I am still a 25 year old, 250 pound guy. But, when pictures get dragged out, it is very apparent that I am a nearly 36 year old. And my weight is VERY obvious. I am stunned when I look back at our Christmas pictures and see how large I let myself get without stopping. There have also been times in the past when I have had some unfortunate pictures due to my weight. I remember when I worked at USF, the BCM staff got together at the director's house for a Christmas party. We all got on their sectional and took a picture together. When the pictures came back, there I was sitting there. And my button up shirt had spread open at the bottom to reveal my stomach and belly button. Nothing says Merry Christmas like a big fat guy with his gut hanging out. (This has actually happened on several occasions - the surprise navel visitor. I hate that guy.)
Then there is the angle issue. As if just being jumbo sized isn't enough, there are angles you can be photographed that makes you look even worse. It is one of those perspective shots. You know how if you take a picture of a person sitting in a recliner from the end of the chair, it looks like they have enormous feet and a really tiny head? Well, there are ways I have been photographed that has made my torso section appear even more out of whack. Of course, even the most professional shot could still look that way. You know, due to the fact that my gut had gotten huge.
There also is the basic issue that comes from weighing twice as much as any other member of your extended family. The last time the entire Crissinger group had gotten together for a picture was around nine years ago. They were great pictures, but I always hated them because I am just a much much bigger person than them. They all are very tiny people (my wife included). And Heather's brothers married tiny wives. Even if I wasn't grossly obese, I still would be larger than them. But, when I was crushing ice cream daily, I looked like Shrek compared to the other fairy tale creatures. It was like a shaved bear had wandered into a regular family's photo shoot. And I was at least 25 pounds lighter then than when I started this whole thing.
This time was different. I approached the picture differently. I actually looked forward to it. Part of it is that it is very apparent that I am much smaller than I used to be - even though I still have like 100 pounds to go. I was looking forward to getting a picture to replace some of the ones floating around out there now - that looks like I got stung by a bee and then ate the bee and a cartload of Honey Smacks to punish the bee. I knew that I still would look bigger than everyone else. But I also knew the progress I had made. (I actually weigh about 25 pounds less than in that picture from nine years ago.) I got a new shirt and got ready for the shoot.
I have never liked getting pictures taken. To kill my nervousness and awkwardness, I came up with goofy things to do in pictures. In college, I would wait until the picture was about to get taken and then stare off in a different direction. It was a little game I played. For two years straight, I don't think I was in a group shot where I was facing the camera. In high school and college, I used to mess with other people in the picture. I would have my arm behind them and goose them or tickle them. Or I would make stupid faces. This is a classic maneuver that ruined many good pictures. Just ask my mother. I had this stupid smile I did that was just dumb. I would raise my eyebrows, open my eyes really big, and grin really huge. Hundreds of pictures have been taken of this smile. Everyone I know hates it. I would throw up fake gang symbols. I would glare at the camera, like I was going to kill the cameraman. Or I would just make a weird monster face. Shoot - even the picture I have used for months on my Facebook and blogs is me doing Zoolander's Blue Steel pose.
I think all of this was to draw attention away from my stomach. It usually works. When the pictures come back, most people say, "Man, look at your face." Or "why can't you look at the camera." Or "Oh my gosh, that face is hilarious." But rarely do people say, "Good night, look at how huge you are." This is part of my way to deal with my embarrassment over my weight. Draw attention away from the stomach. I have always worn my clothes loose to mask the gut. (And the man boobs. Can't forget the man boobs.) I walk bent over so that my gut doesn't stand out so much. I constantly am pulling at my shirt to make it look looser - which is why all the button holes in my shirt get stretched out. And then there is the joking. One of the reasons I have joked so much over the years, especially regarding my weight, is to deflect embarrassment. I figured if I poked fun at myself, it would address what everyone else was already thinking about me. But it would diffuse it. I guess I thought people would think that if I didn't care about the weight (which I demonstrated by joking), then they shouldn't care either.
The problem was that I did care. That is why I did all those things. I hated myself. I hated my body. Seeing my gut made me angry and sad and miserable. The jokes were for me - not anyone else. The shirt, the walk, the goofy faces were to distract me. If I couldn't see the gut, then I wouldn't feel so rotten. And if I could just laugh at my goofy face, then I would have something to look at in the picture without being upset. But, it never worked. The first place I always looked at in a picture was my stomach. Other people would be like, "Oh what a great family" or "You all look so happy." And I would immediately just see the gut. So I largely avoided pictures. It is pretty interesting, when there is a bunch of pictures taken of our family or at an event, there are going to be tons of pictures of the kids. And there will be pictures of my wife, or of other people. But there is usually only a small amount of pictures of me. I don't volunteer myself. It usually only happens when I can't avoid it.
So that is why my excitement over these family pictures was so weird. There was a mixed bag of emotions. I felt stupid in my shirt. I was worried that it would make me look like Shrek again - except this time dressed as a old school Bucs fan. (It was an orange shirt.) But there was a lurking happiness. I even went so far as to ask for shots of just me to replace the stupid ones I have out there now. And I willingly posed with Heather. It was kind of big deal to me. I knew that the kids would look fabulous. And Heather would be beautiful as always - same for the rest of the family. But this time, I was hoping I would also look good.
At lunch on Easter, I was chatting with Mike, Ria, and Becky about if things have changed a lot for me. And one of the things I thought about was confidence. I never had it. I would slump and look at the floor. I moved slow. But now I noticed that has changed. I walk more upright. I try to look up and make eye contact with people. I walk more briskly. There is a confidence there. I know that to anyone else, I still look big. I'm sure there are still people out there that see me at a restaurant and think to themselves something rotten about me. But I know the changes that have happened. And so I am more confident in my daily life. I guess that is what came through on picture day.
I would like to end this post by saying everything went great. But that isn't true. Even though I looked a lot smaller than I did at Christmas, I still am over 300 pounds. So I still look big in the pictures. And my shirt spreads too much at the stomach in most of the ones with Heather. That was the first thing I noticed. And I want to crop them so I don't have to see that. The pictures, unfortunately, remind me of how far I have to go. But they also are a reminder of how far I've come.
And for those of you wanting to see the pictures (especially of my awesome cute kids) - trust me, they'll go up as soon as possible.
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