18 posts tagged “weight loss”
I may have mentioned to some that I have a big blog post coming about Pride. It is still in its birthing stages as my virtual life is currently taking a backseat to my actual life.
However, I have just returned from the place that does my weighing in thing. This was my first visit since Pride - I figured I needed a few days to drop the pounds I must have gained with all the:
- wine (an embarrassing amount)
- beer (not as much as the wine)
- hot dog
- bbq beef on a bun
- dim sum with Lex&Ger, Jeff and Vicki
- chips
- ice cream ... TWICE!
- boob cake, courtesy Courtney. Chocolate and vanilla. One of each.
- I don't remember what I ate at Pam's. I think there were chips and I think I brought them. Actually, most of that evening is a bit foggy except for a few sweet moments early on that are most definitely not foggy. I also remember the bit at the end where I had to crawl over a very tall fence to get out of the fenced garbage area that I'd become entrapped in. But, I digress ...
- Did I mention the dim sum? That was a whole lotta dim sum ... maybe the guylian saved me ...?
In short, I went to diet hell for several days. But, I'm back now ... and I'm down 3.5 pounds for a total of 58 lbs. I really don't understand how this is possible. Divine intervention, perhaps. Anyway, here I am, down 58 and ready for the final 32. Whoa.
One of the more enjoyable aspects of my teaching practice involves guiding students through the process of problem-solving. In particular, I'm the hard-ass (a quote from a former student) who demands that teams dig all the way down, sort out symptoms from actual causes, to define, in a single sentence, the actual problem that they are attempting to solve. The word "solution" is tossed around technology circles in a manner distinctly out of proportion with the word "problem". Without understanding the exact nature of the problem, most attempts at "solutions" are less than likely to succeed - a waste of resources, in my opinion. Problem-definition is a tedious and frustrating exercise, especially in a cross-cultural, cross-functional team environment. The reason I love teaching it is that when the light bulbs go on, and the analytical rigour pays off, each successful student has a tool they can apply to their own lives in any circumstance, to their workplace, to their relationships to an extent ... even to themselves if they choose to go there.
As you can imagine, my students, the ones who actually show up, like me a whole lot better at the after-party than they do prior to the final exams.
I think it is telling that the student who called me a hard-ass did so over ice cream a few weeks after she graduated. She was looking for some guidance in finding employment and she seemed to know I'd be ok with this descriptor. She was right. Not so much of a hard-ass that I couldn't be approached to join her for ice cream, I guess. Apparently, I was also called "The Time-Keeper" which strikes me as being kind of benign, really, as name-calling goes. I gather this is in reference to my penchant for giving teams specific lengths of time in which to complete tasks. "OK - here is this three paragraph case - each team has 15 minutes to read through, discuss, and respond to the two questions below ... GO!" Yeah, my classes sometimes have a sort of boot-camp-esque quality to them. At least I don't ask any student to "give me 20" if they don't complete the tasks on time. Honest.
Nonetheless, imagine my joy when I find that one of my key clients wants me to add a service level clause to an agreement that I am working on demanding that an external organization follow a recognized root cause analysis process when approaching problems. Rapture!
Recently, I've been hoist by my own petard on this issue of root cause analysis. Here is generic version of a conversation I have about three times a week:
Kind, Interested Person: So ... what is the single biggest factor that has resulted in your successful weight loss?
Me: Well, I think the single most important thing I had to do was decide I was ready, that I really wanted it. After I really made that commitment, it was just a matter of finding the right "program" that would work for me.
So far, so good, right?
As I've thought about this, I realize I've been lying all this time. (Sorry.) For me, there is a deeper root cause than the decision and the commitment. Good critical analysis methodology will lead the questioner to ask "why" until there is an endpoint.
Why was I ready ... what drives the commitment, the decision?
The flip response to this is that I'm doing it simply because I can. Not to prove that I can ... but because I'm coming to a place in my life in which I am starting to banish my ghosts and fully appreciate what I'm capable of. This is roughly the same driver/motivator that got me into, through, and successfully out of, the MBA. I knew I could do it, so therefore I had to.
I'm so very incredibly lucky. I have a healthy body, cancer-free (so far), and otherwise disease-free. My mind is clear and strong. Physically, and in so many other ways, all the parts work. I fire on all cylinders, so to speak. I have a roof over my head, access excellent quality food, and an ability to prepare it properly. I get to drink clean water, right out of my tap if I like. I'm blessed in so many other ways ... I have a lifetime of complex experiences that I've tried to learn from. I have had an excellent formal education. I have the pure, unadulterated luxury of time to enjoy excellent music that moves my mind and my heart, to indulge in culture, friends, extended family, lovers ... I think of people who would give their right arm to have been granted the life I live right now. If I don't stretch myself, pour myself into my life fully, I feel as though I'm squandering this amazing opportunity, this outrageously blessed life I've been given to live. If I am going to pour myself into my life, fully, I need to stay healthy, in all respects. To do otherwise feels vaguely irresponsible and wasteful.
There is another piece to the "because I can" motivator.
We are, some of us, trained to disrespect ourselves, to de-value so many aspects of our lives, not believing our actions to be significant, important or impactful in any way. Like so many people, I received really mixed messages as a child. I was told by my mother that I could do anything, anything at all that I put my mind to. I would then be informed, forcefully, by my much older brothers, whom I worshiped and whose love and approval I sought constantly, that everything I did was worthless and unimportant. I fight this internal battle between these two competing forces all the time. I will take some important step or reach some achievement, personally, professionally or spiritually, enjoy a moment of satisfaction - or, more often than not, eye-brow raising surprise - and then immediately dismiss it as being irrelevant. It is how I'm programmed. This makes it extremely difficult to really find satisfaction in the things that others, looking in from the outside, view as "successes".
I sense that I'm not alone in this kind of programming.
Henry Ford reportedly said, "Whether you think you can, or you think you can't, you are right." Depending on where one places one's locus of control, this can either read as inspiring or threatening. I've seen it both ways at different times in my life but, at the moment, I see a third element that I've missed until now. The actor/thinker grants themselves (or is granted) a great deal of power to decide, either way. So, I'm developing my own version of this philosophy. It goes something like this: If I think something is important and worthwhile, or if I think it isn't, I am right. No one else can decide this for me.
There are a series of things I'm trying to put in place in my life that will help me keep moving forward in a positive way. These things feel "important". Weight loss is only one of them, but it does seem to be the most visible. The point is, I get to choose the belief system that will support this part of my journey, and I'm choosing to believe that I can do this, and that it is important.
Some days, my self-talk veers dangerously close to some
kind of mutant lesbian feminist Tony Robbins which can be a bit startling, especially as a visual. Thank goodness that, with the exception of this particular posting, I'm the only one who hears it.
Haven't posted much about food lately. I'm such a foodie. This diet is killing me. Sigh. So I've been both bad and good this weekend.
Bad: Pizza from Magic Oven. OK so not "bad", actually so very very good. This one is the Gourmet Meaty Pizza (proscuitto and some other stuff, artichoke hearts, garlic spinach, two kind of cheese) and I had them add roasted red peppers. Mmmm ...
Between the beer, pizza and GlenLivet ... I was up three pounds the next day. Damn. :-)
Good: Sunday a.m. Breakfast.
Two eggs scrambled with cottage and mozzarella cheese, spinach, red peppers, mushrooms and onions. Sliced fresh tomato with fresh basil, kosher salt and drizzled with aged Italian balsamic. Guatamalan fair trade organic coffee with stevia (the other white powder from Columbia) and hazelnut "real" cream.
If this diet adventure has taught me anything, it is that I sure do like my carbs. As I review my food diary over the months, it is clear that I have the hardest time sticking to the extremely low carb amounts that are recommended.
I should be more specific as "carbs" are found, of course, in fruits and vegetables too - but that isn't what I'm talking about. If I were as addicted to fruits and veggies as I am to Ace Bakery Baguettes, then I wouldn't be so overweight, now, would I? No - what I'm talking about is the fabulous four of bread, rice, pasta and potatoes. BRPP for those of us who are fond of acronyms. Turns straight into sugar and gets applied directly to the thighs.
Carbs also mean alcohol and sugary baked goods, but I don't have so much of an issue avoiding these, except for the carrot cake at the downtown Y. I indulge here about once every two weeks. It calls to me after my workout, as it sits there in its little hand-wrapped portions with the yummy cream cheese icing. I picture that it is made by some little old lady who uses only organic ingredients and donates her baked goods to the Y. It is probably made by some multi-national conglomerate and I'm just trying to rationalize my diet deviance.
The occasional glass of wine hasn't been an issue. Neither, surprisingly, was the over-consumption of rum and tequila a few weeks ago. I have studiously avoided beer, much to the amusement of my hockey buds, since June 2007. Again, not so much of an issue as I've found beer to be an acquired taste anyway. Popcorn, which forms an entire food group for me, also hasn't held me back and I still make popcorn, with oil, and butter, two or three times a week. Admittedly, I'm making half as much as I used to, so maybe that has something to do with it.
Nope - for me, it is BRPP. Potatoes have been the easiest to take off this list. I don't make them much at home, and the double issue of fats + carbs presented by french fries really does take them right off the list of possibilities when I'm eating out. Although, when a basket of fries presents itself after hockey, I have been known to indulge.
Rice is a mystery to me. How is it that a staple eaten by so many cultures in such quantities can give a white chick like me such trouble? I'm told it has something to do with genetics and metabolism. I do believe this, but I wonder why it doesn't work out that, given my British/German DNA, I can't drink all the beer I can handle without packing on the poundage. In any case, I love rice. The thing is, I love rice because it does such a good job at soaking up things like, oh, butter chicken sauce. Fried rice cake is the foundation of sushi pizza and soaks up gallons of soya sauce, which is SO good and SO out of bounds for me. Bad rice. The rice of temptation. Wicked.
Pasta is something I would eat daily if I could get away with it. I make the BEST meat sauce and there is nothing like pasta (usually spaghettini or linguine) and my sauce with a dollop of cottage cheese and a sprinkle of romano. Oh, and a drizzle of olive oil. I have managed to work this in occasionally, through the magic of portion control, and I'm not doing too badly here. I go through phases with pasta. We are arm's length friends at the moment.
Bread is the biggie. Where I'd eat pasta daily and happily, I'd have bread every meal if I could. WITH pasta. Some people do this ... cereal or english muffin or toast for breakfast ... sandwich for lunch ... bread at dinner. Assorted muffins and croissants for snacks. I simply can't eat like that anymore, ever again. The treat I miss the most, and I whine about this to my friends so regularly, is the Ace Bakery Baguette and crumbly old cheese. A few (high fat) olives perhaps. And, of course, a glass of wine. Civilized, yes. Supportive of weight loss, no.
Bread sneaks in where it shouldn't. An English muffin here, an 10" wrap there ... and suddenly I look at my food diary and I've tripled my daily bread allotment without even thinking.
So here is my experiment for the day. I'm going to try "No Carb Tuesday". I had my breakfast without bread or cereal of any kind and I survived, and I've now managed lunch without carbs of any description. I can't do this every day, but I wonder if I could do it, say, twice a week?
Could you?
Addendum: According to my weigh-in last week, and again Monday, I maintained the 52 lbs lost (yay)! Not only that, I'm the first client of the location that I go to who has lost 50+ lbs. They want to put my picture on the wall. I've said I'll think about it. I'd refer that my picture go on the wall when I hit my target loss of 90 lbs. So ... we'll see. :-)
52 lbs. Gone. Whoosh ... :-) ... can I celebrate with a cheeseburger?
It occurred to me this morning that my life has undergone the equivalent of a massive chiropractic adjustment in the past year. I've gone from teaching full-time (steady, consistent, no need to wander around with a spear hoping to snag the next meal ...) to self-employment (exciting, challenging, and lots of need to wander around with a spear).
I've also gone from being quite heavy to being not so heavy. There are other components here about eating better, aside from the weight loss. A general upswing in health. An increase in activity. More energy (except for at this exact moment). A greater body awareness.
It is as if someone has grabbed me by the shoulders, yanked hard, and re-aligned some essential components.
The re-alignment is good and I love the direction this is all heading. However, I need to acknowledge that it all feels a bit strange sometimes, and a bit tiring. I'm not used to it yet, really. The "new normal" hasn't settled in yet.
This photo was taken of me dancing at a party last Saturday. Apparently, it shows off considerable weight loss. I don't see it as clearly as I see it in the pic I posted a few days ago of me and one of my hockey buds wrastling. In that pic, my face looks pretty skinny, to me.
I'm interested in learning more about people's opinions on stretching ... good or bad or irrelevant? Before or after exercise? A lot or a little ...?
I've started exercise programs before, but none as serious as the one I've just started this week. I play hockey 3-4 times a week and, if I remember, I do some very, well, weak-a$$ stretching on the ice before the game. More for show, honestly, than effect.
However, two days out from one circuit on the machines and my glutes are still grumbling. And I have to go back and do it again this afternoon!
I've talked to a number of experienced fitness people, and a friend of mine who is a physiotherapist and everyone has different ideas on stretching. The trainer I worked with on Tuesday said to do "dynamic stretching" before exercising (stretching with bounce) and to do "stretch/hold" after exercising and that, on the whole, the post-exercising stretching is more important.
However, much of what I'm reading and hearing suggests it doesn't matter either way. Stretching is irrelevant.
What works for you? Are there any good websites out there that talk about this aspect of fitness?
Identity ... a fluid, amoebic thing. Or maybe a "same old, same old" security blanket for some. Something to keep the boogeyman of change away. So far, 2008 seems to be the year of multiple identity shifts for me. For example, I'm apparently shifting away from being a person who opens my blog entries with complete "Queen's English" sentences to someone who does not.
I'm enjoying some of the identity shifts but it does make me feel like I'm on quicksand. I can't get much of a toe-hold in this state of re-definition. It ties me up emotionally. Apparently, I can't even blog properly when I'm in flux like this.
Of course, I've had the obvious struggles in the distant past around sexual identity and politics. Straight or lesbian? Or queer (whatever that means)? Out, or closeted? A little bit out, or a LOT out? Monogamous or poly? At the moment, I've settled into happily well-adjusted single lesbian who doesn't take every overture as something that needs to be responded to. I'm not resistant, I'm just pickier. Now I can clearly see when I'm choosing between "potential heart-wrenching dramafest" and "quietly harmonious single life", and I prefer the latter. I fear this also means I'm becoming "set in my ways", as my mother used to say. If "she" does come along, will I get cranky when she gets up earlier, or later than me, or if she likes her eggs done differently than I do, or if she is vegan when I am clearly not?
Now that I'm 44, I'm suddenly noticing the vastness of the generational gap between myself and those who are 15-20 years younger than me. They make me feel old, or definably older, and this is the first time I've been quite sensitive to it. There are dozens of times when I have no idea what they are talking about, or what the joke is. I can feel my face freezing into a
wide-eyed, glazed look that I've seen on the faces of those older than me when they have no idea what is going on, but don't want to be excluded. Although I gave up several years ago on being able to recognize the blond celebrity-singer-actress-flavour of the month, and I've completely lost my ability to be fully abreast of the latest musical trend, I usually mostly know what is going on. Except ... sometimes ... apparently ... I really don't.On the upside, I'm shifting from a largish-person to an almost regular-sized person. I've lost a total of 48 lbs and it is nice to see photos of me now, esp. when I can compare with a year ago. I have 42 more lbs to go and am adding lots of cardio to achieve the next phase. I'm meeting with a trainer at my gym on Tuesday to add some weight training to my routine. So, hockey three-four times a week plus cardio plus weights. Plus diet. Should do the trick.
The angry feminist in me has an issue with the fact that as I lose weight, I'm getting more - um - attention. I'm the same person, after all. Aren't lesbians supposed to be more "evolved" (HAH!) and generally avoid judging people by their exterior size and shape? Someone pointed out to me that as I've lost weight, I move differently, and I present to the world with more confidence and energy ... that the attractiveness shift isn't entirely about the visual. I buy that. In any case, where my anger makes me particularly uncomfortable is in the realization that I am not especially attracted to large women myself. Given this, any self-righteousness I may have about finding myself to be more "in demand" rings a tad hollow.
Just an aside about this business of lesbians being more "open" with regard to the type of women they are attracted to ... a quick trip to Womanline will dash all remnants of this belief. Women there are incredibly specific about who they want to have sex with date. Only femmes need apply ... only butches need apply ... only into cute sporty types ... must not weigh more than me ... must be fit ... would prefer a woman who likes to go mountain biking three times a week ... I like blondes with long hair ... I'm into ultra skinny goth-types and Shanes ... it can be jarring and depressing. Whatever happened to "Hey, let's meet up for coffee. If we click, we could have dinner ..." ?
I seem to be morphing from a cumbersome, slow awkward hockey player who could, between bouts of collapse on the bench in search of the oxygen tank, occasionally show off some decent stick skills and display an impressive wrist shot to a faster skater who can often get to the puck in time to do good stuff with it. I still collapse on the bench and search for a hit of oxygen, however my recovery time is way faster. Hockey is way more fun this way, I reckon.
Finally, I'm struggling with my workplace identity. Self-employed consultant ... business owner ... hit'n'run help ... leader-for-hire ... productivity facilitator ... marketing consultant ... technology consultant ... business planner/strategist ... some days it all fits and some days none of it fits. I think it is going to take me the better part of the next few months to really settle in, or even to find a way of thinking about this shift. I'm trying not to push it and am praying for patience but, of all the shifts, this one gives me the greatest trouble. I have always identified closely with whatever I'm doing for a living. When my profession-du-jour has been a bad fit, then I've been profoundly uncomfortable and motivated to change. When I am having a hard time defining my career direction at the most basic level, then I feel like I'm walking around with a giant question mark tattooed on my forehead.
Unresolved, this is.
I make my way, gingerly.
Do stay tuned for more.
Weight ... as of yesterday:
I've lost a total of 45 lbs. Some of which I've lost several times over. This process doesn't seem to be linear. I've also lost 36 inches. 45 lbs is significant as it marks the exact half way point on my journey to lose 90 lbs. I celebrated by eating bread and pasta. I'm not sure this is the correct response!
Vacation ... as of tomorrow:
I'll be in Barbados. :-) After the winter we've had in Toronto, is there really much more one can say about that?
Random Thought #1
I've met two women in the last two weeks named "Victoria" who play hockey. Not Vicki, Tory, or some other funky derivation. Victoria. This name always reminds me of my grandmother who, at the turn of the last century, played softball in a floor-length skirt. I have a photograph somewhere that proves it. They didn't have softball, or baseball, bats for women to use in 1903, so they used cricket bats. There were even men who coached the ladies softball team. My grandmother's name was Dora Victoria. I wonder if she would have played hockey if she had the chance. I suspect she would have.
Like me, my grandmother hated her first name. The lengthy version of my first name is not suitable for use on either a softball field or an ice rink. I have first-hand verification of this. "Elizabeth" is too long to shout when you are cheering someone on. My grandmother hated her first name for a different reason. She thought "Dora" sounded like a horse. She really wanted to be called "Vicki" which would have, in no way at all, suited this tiny, distinguished white-haired lady.
Just for the record, my mom hated her first name (Alice) and insisted on being called "Betty", a derivation of Elizabeth. Which is how I wound up with that handle.
Grandma, bless her, lived spryly and with excellent health to the ripe age of 93 before dying, quickly and peacefully, in front of her TV set of an aneurysm. It was 1981.
Random Thought #2
I've lost a total of 43 pounds since June 29, 2007. The weight loss has slowed considerably since the onset of winter. I think people in the northern hemisphere ingest more carbs in the winter. That's my story, anyway, and I'm sticking to it. I hope to get more physically active as soon as there is even a hint of spring and either bike riding or jogging can be undertaken with reasonable assurance that I won't hurt myself, or anyone else.
Random Thought #3
I'm really enjoying self-employment. Some days more than others, but in general, people want what I have to offer. This is pretty neat. I like feeling valued.
Random Thought #4
I really like poached eggs. Much more than I imagined possible. However, it is important to time the readiness of the toast with the readiness of the eggs or the whole thing goes awry. I got caught on the phone this a.m. and burned the toast and overcooked the eggs. Drat.
Random Thought #5
A friend sent me this link to a documentary called How To Be Happy. Aside from the actual reason why she sent me the link, which will be amusingly obvious to some, the documentary is actually quite interesting. Turns out that happiness might result out of a liberal dose of altruism, gratitude expressed, and an occasional dash of hedonism. Interesting. I thought the hand-in-ice-water test was weird, but strangely telling.
Random Thought #6
Redzilla made me laugh out loud again.