For the bajillionth time: weight loss, my extreme dislike of
Okay fine. I'm going to write the effing Weight Watchers post.
After going Low Carbish for weeks and weeks and losing and gaining the same three pounds, I decided I needed a change. Low carb, as I may have mentioned nine hundred times before, is a good plan for me, and probably the way I should normally eat. Not NO carb, but LOW carb. I think I take after the side of my family with a history of obesity and diabetes, and all the other times I've lost Serious Weight I did it by going low carb. It's a good plan for people who think chocolate cake is perfectly acceptable for breakast, lunch, AND dinner. On the SAME DAY.
Thing is, at a certain point, I get very lax. For example, cheese is low carb! So I will have fourteen slices! You can see how it stops being effective through that sort of user error. Also (and this happened before, when I was doing Hot By Thirty) the more weight I lose, the less effective it appears to be. And I don't think that's SOLELY because I get lax - I don't know if I just need to change it up or just start fresh with a new program or what, but WW worked when I got stuck in HB30, and I thought it would work again this time.
And it has. I've lost 4 of the 10 pounds I would really like to lose.
(Well. Then this weekend happened. I knew I was going to dinner and probably a movie with Phillip on Saturday, but he planned a whole WEEKEND DATE starting with lunch at a Chinese noodle shop where we seriously, I mean it, ate our weight in homemade noodles and dumplings and scallion pancake. We weren't hungry until late that night, when we shared a burger and fries. Shared. WE NEVER SHARE. EVER. So. You know. I'm thinking I'm going to delay weighing in for a few days. HEH.)
But once again I am really super duper struggling with what happens in my head when I'm trying to lose weight. I'm either not caring about it and totally digging into my noodles, or down on myself and counting all my points. I haven't figured out how to be Okay With My Size AND Trying To Lose Weight at the same time. Which is where I want to be.
I mean, is that even possible? Right now I am the same weight and size I was before I had Jack. Which, at that point in my life, was a huge achievement. I'd lost nearly 30 pounds and two sizes. I was crazy proud of myself and feeling all the things people say you feel when you lose weight: better about myself, more confident, less self-conscious, all that. At one time in my life this size was THE BEST EVER.
Then I did that crazypants HB30 gig and wasn't satisfied to stay at this weight, and lost 10 more pounds. Then THAT was the best, obviously. I lost more and realized: hmm, maintaining that was going to require a little more work than I wanted to do, so I gained three or four back and felt like I had finally found the Holy Grail Of Weight Loss: the Maintainable Number.
Then I had Emma.
This time has been significantly harder. My life is much busier and my baby doesn't help with her unpredictability, but I also DON'T CARE AS MUCH. I DON'T! And I love chocolate more than I love arm muscles. I love chocolate and chocolate flavored things more than a human being really should and I don't WANT to give it up. Not all of it, anyway. Not even enough, apparently, to get back into my pre-Emma jeans. I got to a point after Emma where I'd just sort of lost MOST of it. And that felt, you know, FINE. I mean, I would have liked to lose all of it, but eh, it was time to make Christmas cookies.
I gained weight over the holidays. I tell myself I'm still nearly 30 pounds lighter than I was when I got married. I don't WANT to worry about making a date to work out or run every day. I don't WANT to be super strict about what I eat. I take care of three different children on three different schedules and I want to read my BOOK. I've lost a couple of those holiday pounds and what if this was good? What if this was okay? What if I just stopped worrying about it? What if it wasn't something I felt compelled to talk about and write about and whine about to friends and all that? WHAT WOULD THAT BE LIKE?
Except I know. I know what it would be like. I would keep eating along with not caring and soon I would gain those 30 pounds back. I am absolutely sure this would happen. And I am NOT okay with that.
So I go back on Weight Watchers. I tell myself I don't have to get to the fit nearly-skinny point I was at the summer after I had Molly, I just have to get to a point where it's not a super huge deal if I have an extra slice of birthday cake one night. I want that CUSHION, where I can gain a few pounds but still feel within bounds of where I should be. I am out of that range right now. I need back in.
It makes sense, right?
I read Elizabeth's posts about dressing well and feeling cute no matter what your size and I think HEY, I SHOULD DO THAT. I should totally stop acting like I'm REALLY a size 8 and I can't wear certain things when right now I'm a size 10 and WHO CARES? It's dumb. I've acted on this too! I've bought clothes that are a size 10 (or 12!) instead of a size 8 and I was (AM!) totally fine with it! The dress I bought for my Christmas party, that I absolutely ADORE, is a size 14. Did not care. Love that dress. Must find another occasion for wearing it. (Silver! Fringey! Lacey! LOVE!)
But the more I don't care and the happier I am with my size, the easier it will be to gain back those 30 pounds. I don't know how to do it otherwise.
So I continue to care, I continue to feel bad about not exercising HALF as much as I did when I only had 2 kids, I continue to shamefully throw away half-full bags of chocolate chips so I can't gorge on them all night when Phillip is out.
And even when I was a size 8 and had arm muscles and was just barely low carb because I'd found my Maintainable Number and I felt good about where I was, I still stayed just a little bit unhappy, still berated myself if I didn't exercise enough that week, because I didn't want to gain it back.
What I am trying very very very hard to do is not be Publically Insecure about it. Like, I will write this blog post, but I don't want to write another one. Not unless I have something different to say (and I probably won't.) I am not texting my friend who does low carb with me when the scale is mean to me. I am not stepping on the stupid scale every day. I'm trying not to mention it every time I hang out with other moms. If I'm going to be successful, I have to award Weight Loss a prime upfront spot in my life. But I hate that. I hate how it makes me talk. I hate how I sound. I do not want to want validation from everyone else about my size and how I look and how my pants fit.
SO THAT'S IT. That is the struggle. For me. The giving up certain foods, the exercise guilt, the frustration and embarrassment over the muffin top - all of that is secondary to this FIGHT IN MY BRAIN.