SlimStacey

Another Pound Bites the Dust!

"Another one bites the dust/Another one bites the dust/And another one's gone, another one's gone/Another one bites the dust!"  Queen, "Another One Bites the Dust." 

Woo-HOO!  I'm down to 165 pounds!  Another pound lost in 24 hours!  I am STOKED!

Of course, it took major sacrifice to get there.  A few days of suffering to The Firm's "Complete Aerobics & Weight Training" DVD using their Body Sculpting System 2 (62 minutes of hell on earth).  Do you think I felt like broiling my body with sweat and pain?  Absolutely not!  Do you think I wanted to give up things like buttery yummy pound cake (100 calories a slice) in favor of air-popped popcorn?  Why don't I just eat Styrofoam?  I even went on the Michael Thurman Total Body Makeover eating plan yesterday, and I'm guessing that helped jump-start my weight loss again.  (Don't believe me?  Just try shoving 1 to 2 cups of vegetables down your gullet every meal, including snacks.  You will be STUFFED.  You will also be SICK of vegetables, but hey, for my body type I can eat some carbs (thank the Lord Jesus), some fruit AND even some protein.  I'll discuss the Thurman plan tomorrow.  Supposedly if I stay on course with just the eating plan, I should lose a dress size by the Mahopac/Mahopac Falls Fire Department Joint Picnic this Sunday.  Well, we shall see!  Keep working out and eating right, folks!  :)

On the Road Again

"On the road again/Goin' places that I've never been/Seein' things that I may never see again."  Willie Nelson, "On the Road Again"

Just now I'm feeling capable, post-accident, of moving forward with my exercise program on my quest to drop at least another 30 pounds.  40 down.  Another 30 to go.  And it's a long road, since I'm not cheating (no eating disorders, no magic pills, etc.) 

It was so hard to motivate myself to do 30 minutes of cardio, because hey, let's face it, it HURTS to exercise in the beginning.  You're heavy, ungainly, you're weak and everything burns, stings, sweats, and quite frankly, stinks.  It's hard for you to do things that only a few years ago, came more easily to you.  You're older, so certainly that doesn't help.  And your ego plays games with you:  Wait another day.  Take it easy.  Do you really feel like pushing yourself...it's not like you're going to keep losing a pound a day, Stace.  Just wait until tomorrow.  The baby's only going to wake up from his nap minutes from when you start, so why bother?  You just worked hard on four of your personal injury cases.  Take a break...don't work harder!

NO!!!!  I can't possibly shortchange myself, because as much as it totally sucks to feel the burn, gasp like I'm drowning and ache for hours afterward, I have to push myself forward.  Every missed opportunity is exactly that...a missed opportunity.  The only non-renewable resource in our lives is TIME.  I'm never going to get back time that I wasted...the only thing I can do now is make certain that my time is used more efficiently, more effectively, towards creating a healthier version of me...which may not buy me more time, but should certainly protect what time I have left on this earth.  If you've missed an opportunity to work out, to eat less, to pass up a sinful morsel in favor of something healthier, you still have opportunities ahead of you.  Don't waste them!

Agony and Ecstasy

You know, I have to tell you, I felt so good about my weight loss and new attitude recently that I made the decision to buy myself an outfit.  You know, a FULL outfit, including dress, shoes, necklace and bracelet.  I felt like a lady.  I wore everything to a relative by marriage's first birthday party, yesterday, which was a gorgeous, bright, sunny day.  I had placed my son in his carriage and decided to go up a set of stairs to fetch myself a drink (water, people, there's still 30 pounds to go in the quest for weight loss).  I had ignored plates of chips, refused to have any spiked punch, and had decided only to eat a palmful of pasta and a single piece of chicken.  Yes, it was going to be a good day where I made smart party choices.  And I looked rather nice, despite the extra poundage I'm currently hauling around. 

As I descended the stairs, returning with my drink in a bright green plastic cup, someone called up to me and actually complimented how nice and put together I appeared. 

Why yes, I am rather fly, I thought, smiling and waving.  And not looking where I was going.

And falling to the bottom of the steps, smacking my back so loud it actually reverberated and the entire party fell silent simultaneously.  Even small children gaped and stared at me. 

My son, thank goodness, was safe in his stroller the whole time, chewing on a finger in a teething fit.

But this is the story of my life, folks.  It's too bad someone didn't film the scene for some slapstick comedy, because really, I suppose it was funny for anyone other than me and my aching spinal column.  Of course, this DOES throw a wrench in things because, good grief, how do I exercise when I can barely walk the next day.  My side and back resemble a prize fighter's body after they've gone ten rounds.  I actually applied two Lidocaine patches to the affected areas (courtesy of some I squirreled away after being involved in an auto accident two years ago).  I'm sure it dulled the pain, but it certainly hasn't removed it.  Now I'm living on fistfulls of Advil and living for 7:30 PM tonight when I can reapply the patches.  I'll have to see a chiropractor.  I can't take the pain.  What a schmuck I am, but then again, we all take turns playing the Joker in the deck of life. 

Even if I looked where I was going, it wouldn't have mattered.  My shoes were brand spanking new,and I did not apply anti-skid pads to them.  I haven't bought new clothes in years, with the exception of two tops I purchased a few months ago.  I last purchased new shoes in 2005, and that was that.  It's been so long, I even forgot that anti-skid pads existed (or that, in lieu of that, I should simply scuff my new shoe bottoms on some rocks, so they could gain traction). 

The best part was, after my fall, a woman came up to me to see if I was doing well, and then, a worried look on her face, asked, "Are you going to see a doctor soon?  I mean, you took such a horrible fall, and you ARE pregnant."  The blank stare I offered her prompted a meek, "What?  You're not pregnant?" from her.  It took all of the self-control I could muster not to down every last ounce of alcohol and every last scrap of chips that were within a one mile radius from me following that scenario. 

So I guess you know what the agony was.  The ecstasy?  Looking pretty fly for a non-pregnant woman.  And, later, being told by someone I went to high school with that I "haven't aged a second since high school."  Great.  I don't have to commit hari kari after all! 

We all have our bad days...this is simply one of mine.  And if you think I'm giving up in my weight loss quest after this setback, the answer is an ASTOUNDING NO.  So if you are giving up on your quest when nothing quite as...extensive...has happened to you any time recently, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and proceed, same as me. 

Without the Lidocaine patches!

Hard Choices

"Do you, do you, do you believe/Are you, are you afraid of change?"  Motley Crue, "Afraid"

I'm stalled at 166 pounds.  This is no big deal.  I totally understand why.  Yesterday I had Chinese food...now, granted, I had mostly vegetables but there was some Chicken Teriyaki in there (read:  sodium, water retention, plus, well, calories).  It's sad, but when I ordered my platter and asked for a side of the chicken and a main portion of vegetables (broccoli, carrots, string beans) I received a bewildered look.  Americans don't eat mostly vegetables with perhaps a side of meat.  Guess how they really do it in China?  You guessed it.  Mostly vegetables with a side of meat, if not tofu. 

And, as long as I'm using the Net as a confessional, the Vitamin Water I ordered with my meal was calorie and sugar heaven. 

And, yes, while working at Joe's Dairy Bar yesterday I did have a baby cone sized vanilla ice cream, no sprinkles, no toppings, but STILL....

To tell you the truth, it's a wonder I didn't GAIN weight.  But the rest of the day I was very, very good.  And I did exercise for 30 minutes.  (Work-related phone calls cut my workout time short).  THE RUB:  These are hard choices I'm making, and I have to pay attention to every single one, not just the good ones.  You know, every decision we make on our quest to lose weight really does count.  Every forkful of food we ingest.  Every sip of a beverage we take.  (How many calories would I have saved if I just drank water and not Vitamin Water, for example?)  Every time we reduce our exercise instead of maintain it or increase the intensity  of it, we make a decision that affects our health, forget just a matter of weight. 

And I know you're saying to yourself by now...c'mon, Stacey, you're eating a lot of fast food.  Yes, you know, you're right!  I didn't even realize it, but over the past few days it's been Subway, pizza, Chinese food, Joe's Dairy Bar...and even making the leaner choices (for the most part) it's still something I should be enjoying way less than I am currently. 

OK, I've had a revelation!  Work has overall pre-empted food shopping the past few days, but on Sunday I'm going to hit the A&P and local farmer's market to pull together a big load of fruit, vegetables, and other healthy food choices (air popped popcorn, anyone?).  This way I don't have to stare at an empty fridge and go for the quick and easy route to meals.  Because I'm rather certain I could be losing a bunch more weight just by doing that ALONE.  How about you?  Can you make hard choices like I'm making (and will continue to make)?  I love that people are tracking my blog, and starting to join the quest for health with me...so I'll keep posting and you keep up the good work!!!

Losing is Winning!

"Working hard to get my fill/Everybody wants a thrill/***Don't stop believing/Hold on to that feeling"  Don't Stop Believing, Journey

Not to be repetitive, but WOW!  I'm now 166 pounds!

Now, years ago I'd have died at being 166 pounds, but Lord knows it's better than being 169 staring down the barrel of 170, or 203 which is what I weighed when I delivered my whale of a newborn son.  Everything's relative.  There are women who are morbidly obese who would KILL to be 166 pounds.  And there are women reading this blog thinking, yeah, there's a few pounds I'd like to lose, but I've NEVER been 166 pounds.  And I get all that. 

It will be a long haul back down to 135 pounds.  A long, sucky, nasty hell ride and me with no roll bar.  I won't lie...it sucks.  It sucks when you don't want to exercise for yet another hour in the heat.  It sucks when you are nothing but older and heavier than you were the last time you tried to wage this war on flab.  It sucks when you have a closet filled with clothes that you wore a few short years ago and you don't want to get rid of them because you stubbornly believe you will someday return to your old size.  And nothing sucks more than wanting desperately to eat nearly an entire pizza pie stuffed with carmelized onions, fennel sausage and yummy mozzarella, yet ending up eating one single solitary slice of regular pizza and listening to your stomach sing to you more soulfully and bluesy than Coltrane for the rest of the night.  But you know what sucks more than that?

Being fat.  It SUCKS!!!!  And I'm done with it!!!  Join me in the revolution!

And don't stop believing...in me or yourself!

Better Than Sex?

"There's no sensation to compare with this/Suspended animation, a state of bliss."  Pink Floyd, "Learning to Fly"

What is better than sex?  Well, Madonna once said that reading is better than sex, but I think she just didn't have the correct sexual partner.  (Case in point:  She's now divorced from Guy Ritchie, her husband at the time she issued the statement).  Me personally, I have one excellent husband (and excellent lover).  So, no complaints from me.  BUT I could personally say that losing a pound a day so far might be some kind of runner up to awesome bed mattress bingo.  I'm now 167 pounds.

Of course, I'm absolutely g-damned EXHAUSTED.  I didn't get here by wishing and hoping.  I feel like my tired, old body crawled on its hands and knees across broken glass to achieve such results.  I've exercised a minimum of an hour a day for the past three days.  No Coffee Coolattas (which are, like, 1,000 calories a cup anyway...and jackass me would congratulate myself for ordering them without whipped cream...because that would save me all of 34 additional calories).  No fun-tasting food.

For example, when I wanted to snack on something great like Steve did (think Wheat Thins, a chocolate bar) I would either have water or air popped popcorn.  That's about as yummy as ingesting fistload after fistload of packing peanuts.  Oy, my stomach's roaring just thinking about it.  But hey, give me credit...I haven't eaten anything for the day yet.  Time to get that fruit and yogurt out.  Because as boring as my eating is right now, being all fruit, vegetables, light dairy, soy and wheat bread, the bottom line is, I want--I NEED--to see that scale go down again and again over time.  It may not be an orgasm, but it sure is one hell of a high.

Self Sabotage Already?

"When I look at myself I don't see/The [wo]man I wanted to be/Somewhere along the line I slipped off track/I'm caught movin' one step up and two steps back."  Bruce Springsteen, One Step Up

Oh, they don't call him The Boss for nothing.  Don't mind me with the music lyrics...I was a professional DJ from 1998 through 2005 (as a second career).  

And yes, these lyrics are rather befitting of my current situation.  But it's worth sharing, because in it one can see why it is that women stay heavy long after they've determined it's time to lose weight.

Don't get me wrong.  I stood on the scale this morning and it said 168.  That's one pound off already. 

But damn it all, I could hardly have been surprised if I still weighed 169 or had (gasp) gone back into the 170 pound territory.  Oh, please, not there again.  Then I'll just get all sorts of depressed and cry my way through a bag of frigging Cheetos.  In fact, I may as well just dice them into a fine powder on a mirror and snort them until I OD.  I mean, Nikki Sixx never got the message long after he died and had to be revived by an EMT (although Motley Crue did use that whole embarrassing scenario as the influence for my very favorite Crue song, "Kickstart My Heart").  Why shouldn't I just keep abusing my drug of choice...which just so happens to be food?

I could be sent off to rehab.  But that would be fat camp.  Damn it all.

I said that already, didn't I?

I exercised for an hour yesterday.  And, of course, I'm feeling the effects of it today.  Achy, breaky, and it's not even my heart.  It's EVERYTHING.  But what could I expect?  I was a first degree black belt in Tae Kwan Do in 2006, in great shape.  Now, I'm about as buff as a newborn kitten.  Nah, the kitten has more energy than me.  But the good news is, I exercised.  I did all of my Tae Kwan Do forms from white belt through advanced red into the first black belt form or two.  Then I did some aerobics...nothing too crazy, nothing involving weights or steps or any sort of prop.  I'm just too weak.  I'll get there.  I still sweat myself sick, like I'd done something challenging, like, oh, say, a decathlon.  

For breakfast I ate a pepper stuffed with brown rice and egg whites.  Nice.  (Not really, I wanted to scarf down some sweetened breakfast cereal...hey, honesty is the best policy).  Hey, I ate a frigging vegetable for breakfast, everyone, and it wasn't fried or drowned in butter.  Boo-ya!

BUT...of course there's a but, given the title of this posting...then came lunch.  I did nothing but drink water all day, and there was no snacking in between, which was hard.  I salivated when Steve (my husband) ate a Hershey's chocolate bar in front of me (and honestly, I hate chocolate).  I nearly scarfed down poor Steven Ames' applesauce because it smelled good.  (Oh yeah, you know it's bad when you're willing to eat baby food, next I'll just eat spackling).  Lunch...Steve just had to ask me to pick up lunch at Subway.  For him, ham and cheese, double the meat, double the cheese, with lettuce, tomato and mayo.  Yes, he had it on a wheat roll, but he ate the entire foot long sandwich for lunch.  Now, I ordered turkey with provolone, regular meat and cheese levels, with lettuce, tomato, onion and green pepper.  Yes, I had it on a wheat roll and ate it dry (no mayo, no dressing, no salt or pepper).  No, I did NOT eat more than half a foot.  But then came dinner.  Which we had at a Mexican restaurant.

I know what you're thinking.  Why didn't I just go to a Chinese Buffet and challenge some frat boy to a contest of who could clear more plates?  Why didn't I just pop out a Fry Daddy and just fry up a platter of Oreos and eat it with a side of congealed lard, and then go to the Wal-Mart to roam around with the other human bison?  WTF? 

Oh, it's true, I did not have dessert.  I drank water.  I had fresh guacamole with chips, homemade salsa, and steamed vegetables in a non-fried wrap.  I removed the wrap and only ate maybe a few bites of it just so I didn't completely barf at the concept of eating nothing but veggies all night.  There wasn't a chunk of meat to be found on my plate.  I could have drowned on my saliva watching Steve eat his scrumptious looking dinner of refried black beans and steak doused in tomatillo sauce.  I'd need a flotation device from all the spit I'd emit in gustatory envy.  My stomach just kept growling furiously.  I had to drink twice the amount of water just to drown out its furious howls. 

Imagine, though, if I'd have had food that was actually diet-friendly yesterday.  I might have dropped another pound at least.  Hey, one step up and two steps back it may be, but at least I'm moving forward instead of further backward or not at all.  Now I have to convince my heavy, aching carcass to get up and face a workout video populated by nubile cheerleaders who will merrily encourage me to "go for the burn."  And I have to pretend that the yogurt and fruit I just ingested (I cannot call this eating) is just yumm-o.  Losing weight is never easy, though.  And it's clear to me why millions of women stay heavy when they know, they just KNOW, they have to lose weight, even when it's a matter of life or death.  Food tastes good...especially sinful food! 

Baby's Got Back

"I mean, 36-24-36?  Only if she's 5'3"."  Jonathan Coulton a/k/a Sir Mix-A-Lot, "Baby Got Back."

I remember when I was those measurements.  And I AM that height.  Sir Mix-A-Lot doesn't mention weight in his song, but it doesn't matter.  Back when I was those measurements, I weighed approximately 135 pounds.  Now, for those of you that thinks such a weight sounds hefty, I wore a size 6 to a size 8, depending on the cut of the article of clothing.  Men (honestly) would throw themselves at me, even at the gas station while I was just minding my own business, filling my car up at the pump.  I was trim from working out and had a size C chest.  Guess men like that!  Marilyn Monroe was a size 8, folks.  The PLANET thinks she was one hell of a sexy woman.  And for the grand majority of my life, I was, well, quite the hottie if you don't mind my saying so.  I mean, I actually did modeling for a while...for a local TV ad for a furniture store, OK, but trust me, the talent scout tracked ME down and talked me into doing a little work for his agency.  Talent scouts for modeling agencies don't track you down if you're fat and/or unattractive, let's just have that as a given.  No one was putting a leash on this lady and saying bow-wow.

So imagine my eternal sadness when I stepped on the scale this morning and saw 169 pounds. 

Oink oink.

Excuse the vernacular, but this SUCKS!  I'm horrified.  But not entirely surprised.  I pretty much was my goal weight my whole life, that (now elusive) 135 pounds, that 36-24-36, that size 6 bra.  Now I've got more cake than Duncan Hine's.  More waves than the ocean.  More...oh, hell, you get the idea.  And it SUCKS!  Did I mention that?  Anyway, I can't say I'm surprised.  In 2006 I began fertility treatments that included more medicines and injections than Michael Jackson on a bender.  It was supposed to last for perhaps 90 days.  By then it was hoped that I would be "with child" but I must have been on the remedial impregnation plan, because I conceived my son a year and a half later!  My body was absolutely swollen from medications and the procedures knocked me on my can repeatedly.  I also couldn't do Tae Kwan Do anymore, per my reproductive endocrinologist, because "no jerked movements; no heavy exercise." 

I was a black belt at the time.  Your warm ups were 100 pushups, 100 sit-ups, 100 jumping jacks and 200 middle punches in the air.  That was BEFORE the bulk of class started.  In 90 degree heat.  Call it Bikram Black Belt, call it whatever you want, but all I know is it kept me at or near 135 pounds because baby, I was middle aged and that ol' metabolism of mine didn't want to burn everything I ate so quickly anymore.  (Slacker). 

So where were we?  No exercise, body swollen with medication...oh yeah!  A perfect storm for Stacey to go from fab to flab.  And then, of course, pregnancy isn't normally a period of time when one loses weight...although I fought it off as best I could.  When I first conceived I weighed 163 pounds, having gained 28 whopping pounds over that fateful year and a half.  The first trimester I didn't gain a single solitary pound.  But, as you can guess, eventually I lost ground, and when I delivered my son, I weighed an astounding 203 pounds.  Holy bejeesus.  I never thought I'd see the 200's a day in my life, even while pregnant.  But no, I morphed into Grimace from McDonald Land, and man, I was nearly as purple as that hulking behemoth when I went to deliver Steven Ames.  I had to strain to breathe.  I couldn't walk more than one city block before having to sit down to take a break.  My feet were so swollen I thought they would explode.  Even my OB/GYN had a blast at my expense.  At the last visit before Steven Ames was born, she laughed, "Oh, would you look at those huge Fred Flinstone feet!"  I wanted to use one of my Tae Kwan Do moves on her, but she's lucky I'm a lover, not a fighter. 

My son was born at 9 pounds 2 ounces, and so his delivery automatically transported me back into the 100's and out of the scary 200's.  And, quite frankly, since I was no longer preggers, I got more active.  I walked him in his carriage.  I quit drinking soda permanently and drink mostly water nowadays, broken up by some juice here and there.  I cut down onthe Coffee Coolattas from Dunkin Donuts. 
Over the first 9 months of Steven Ames' life, I dropped from that horrendous 203 down to 163 pounds.  Back to where I started.  Which wasn't bad!

But then I plateaued.  No matter what I did in terms of eating, good or bad, the needle on the scale never seemed to budge.  I thought the scale was broken, but no, after some testing, it worked just fine.  And then...the needle moved.  To 165.  To 166.  And now, to 169.  I'm 169 stinking pounds. 

MOOOOO!!!!  I mean, NOOOOOOO!!!!

And so, my friends, I've sat down and made a plan of action.  I'm going to lose 34 pounds.  ASAP.

And I'd like you along for the journey.  You can cheer or jeer, I really don't care.  But I need to be accountable to someone, and apparently my own self doesn't work on the issue of weight.  I'm such a dynamic, successful person, but when it comes to food and exercise, since 2006 when I had to give up Tae Kwan Do and undergo extended fertility treatment, I've suddenly taken on the IQ of Steve-O from Jackass.  I can totally beat this weight thing, and do it the right way (no pills, no eating disorders).  And honestly, if I post about my journey along the way, even if I inspire just one other person to do the right thing (or to laugh at my sorry-ass antics, or both), then it was worth the effort.  I know what 135 pounds feels like.  I can conceive it, so ladies and gentlemen, I can achieve it!