A Bully In Your Belly

Last night I was starving.

My dinner choices left me feeling incomplete. As though I hadn't even eaten at all. Like there was still this huge space in my belly that kept growling , " Feed me!". 

I almost listened. I was only a few feet away from a bag of chocolate chips, a can of bacon flavored Spam...and the tequila. 

Good thing there was also another voice in the mirror that said, "Stop! Focus. Breathe. Imagine..."

Sometimes it's difficult to imagine what we cannot see. But incentives can help. Yesterday my husband threw out an idea that made chocolate cake about as tasteless as mud pie. He suggested that when he loses 20 pounds, and I lose at least 10, that we will take a spur-of-the -moment trip. That we will get on an airplane and fly to the Caribbean, to the soft sandy beaches of the Virgin Islands.

Really? Well, he said so...

Even if it is just a fantasy, it kept me going. It made me realize that a vacation won't ever be exciting and fun if I don't shed some of these pounds that are holding me back. What fun is it to swim in a tee shirt and capris? Or sit on the beach with a towel covering your middle? Or be so tired that you can't take an afternoon stroll without becoming winded?

I'm a bit more practical than an expensive trip. I've already planned incentives for myself, such as a new cut, color and hairstyle. New underwear. A purse that doesn't swallow my cell phone. Fresh makeup. Spring decor for my house.

Whatever it is, imagine it.

 Because sometimes it's that carrot dangling in front of you that keeps you from stopping.

Speaking of carrots, that's just what I pulled from the fridge last night. A few dipped in rice vinegar hit the spot without adding the calories. The bully in my belly was silenced. The gal in the mirror was happy.

Suddenly, I heard a new voice.

It was the beaches whispering, " We're waiting.....".

Back In The Saddle Again

One summer we vacationed in Gatlinburg, Tennesee. The kids were small then and insisted on doing all the fun activities there was to offer. 

Horseback riding was one of them.

Now, it just so happens, I have a past with horses. A childhood fear that followed me into old age. 

When I was probably about five or six, my sister Linda and I used to walk to the nearby corner and feed the horses. There was a county farm there and two horses named Blackie and Lulu. We had been taught the proper way to feed them, rolling grass or hay into our hands and never offering our fingers for a horsie snack.

Well, one day while we were feeding them, Lula decided that my blonde hair might be just as tasty as greens, so she proceeded to flap her giant lips upon my head. Luckily I survived with just a wad of saliva, but I never got too close to horses again.

....Unless you count the time when I was about fourteen when I wanted to fit in with a few friends and try to actually mount a horse. The Price's down the road had a few tame ponies and I was willing to be brave like everyone else and take this horse for a sweet little gallop. Well, with a lot of fuss and effort, I got up on its back, only to immediately slide off the other side.

 

But back to Gatlinburg. And those horses. 

Once again I caved to pressure as the kids convinced me I wasn't going to get trampled or eaten or dragged by the boot heel across the mountain top.

With a professional guide, we took off down a trail at a slow pace, all the while my knuckles turning whiter as I held tighter to the reigns.

"What's that?" my husband asked, slowing his horse.

"Yeah, we heard it, too," said the kids.

"It's my horse," I confessed, hearing the poor nag groan and heave under the weight of my body in the saddle.  If I didn't know better, I would think that the glue factory would be our next stop.

The kids and my husband got a big laugh out of it, joking about that horse long after we had crossed the state border and spent many more summers as a young family. But beneath the good natured teasing, I knew they were proud of me for at least trying.

Okay, let's tie this story together, shall we?

I'm looking at my treadmill now and thinking of that horse.

 Of how this machine may not creak and groan, even though it might want to when I climb up there and roll my way to sweat and irregular heart rates. 

It's almost a fear like I have with horses. That the ride may be unpleasant. That I will give up. That I will fail.

If my kids were here, they would definitely laugh. Me -with sloppy sweats and and iPad of music they wouldn't cross the street to hear- trying to keep up with the spinning track, occasionally losing my balance like a drunk hippo.

But they would be proud that I'm trying. That I'm getting on and giving it my best. 

And suddenly I can see myself crossing that finish line...

Giddy-up!

Pocket Professor

There are times when I'm glad that I don't know everything. Content that my mind doesn't have that impressive mathematical power to analyze and dissect every situation and common things. I love the fact that I can look into a sea of stars and see sparkles and glitter and a shining moon. How sad it would be to only see galaxies and black holes and complicated constellations. Sometimes it's the pure simplicity of a starry night that makes it so precious.

Yet, when we come to this process called a diet, I wish I had some of that insight of knowing more than the shape, smell, and taste of food. I wish I could glance at a chefs salad and instantly calculate the calories, fat and protein hidden inside. I yearn to know if my lunch choice has the proper vitamins or if that kale can really change my energy levels.

I suppose it's time to get some schooling. Figuring out what is in the foods we put into our bodies is a major part of a successful diet. I've learned that fat free isn't always free, that sometimes light isn't right and that innocent little nibbles can turn into a giant difference.

It's work. It's that math I hated in high school. It's the balance I fail to reach in my checkbook. It's the determination that always seems to lose steam in a couple of days.

Using My Fitness Pal is like having a personal little professor. He's always there on your  iPhone or iPad, willing to give you an accurate readout of your days choices. He's that hi- tech brainiac that shows you your mistakes. He knows that slice of frosted German Chocolate cake has 643 calories -and he's not afraid to tell you so. Don't ignore him.

However, if you decide to figure all of this out yourself, then that's okay, too. Maybe your brain doesn't freeze up during simple arithmetic like mine does. Maybe you enjoy entering it all on a calculator or with pen and paper. No matter how you do it, you must do it. Otherwise, we are in the dark. We won't know what we are feeding our body. We won't win this fight.

So later, when I look up at the stars, I can enjoy their beauty. I can gaze upon a "star bright, star light, first star I see tonight" and wish that I can cross the finish line this time -and be proud.

Don't Be A Gilligan

I have been on a lot of Gilligan diets. You know, the ones where you set off with good intentions and then get sidetracked and lost for years and years and years? It's the kind of diet where you resort to all sorts of crazy and bizarre plans to get back to where you want to be. You never feel quite at home. You cry to be rescued.  You fail miserably.

We all need to have a map. A plan. A goal. A destination of where we want to be in 6 months to a year. 

I know, it's like dreaming. 

It IS dreaming! I dream everyday of myself in jeans three sizes smaller. With a waist that doesn't look like I'm hiding a python. With legs that actually have ankles and shins - and not just hairy fat that smooshes all over the car seat like molten lava. I want perkiness in the right places and firmness where none has ever dared to go before. I want to look like the woman I dream of being.

Today you need to find a picture of yourself that you hate. One that embarrasses you. One that you would have taken a match to long ago if someone hadn't stopped you because they said, " Oh, your smile looks so pretty there!" Which is really secret lingo for "too bad you're fat."

Then find a picture of a body you would like to have. Now, lets be reasonable here. If your closing in on sixty like I am, you're smart enough to know you're never gonna look like any Victoria's angels. Not without major surgery, a crap load of silicon or a genie in a bottle.

So, keep it real. I have one I've saved that is a lady in about a size 9 jeans, a V- neck sweater with a crisp white blouse underneath. She has no rolls, no pooch, no pouch, no swinging flesh or multiple chins. She's sleek, trim, thin and healthy. She's my dream.

When that last bite of tuna makes you want to quit, put those two pictures together. You and the Could Be You. Now and What Can Be. 

What have you got to lose? (Besides the garbage part of yourself.) Anyone can give up sweets and carbs and all that stuff that loads on the pounds -for at least 6 months. Six months! If you're a woman you waited longer than that to have your babies! Pretend its a baby! Nurture it. Feed it right. Spoil it with care and concern.

In six months you won't want to ever go back. You won't recognize the fat picture and you'll work even harder to be the dream picture.

Here are five things that may help you on your trip to Goal.

1. You must know where you are starting from.

Write down your weight. Don't guess, for heavens sake! Get it right.

2. Know where you're going.

Set a reasonable goal. Write it down. Look at it often. Never change it until you get there.

3. Don't be distracted.

Don't let someone else steer your ship or convince you to change your route.

Focus. Fight. Forget those who want to sabatouge  your journey. Don't be a Gilligan!

4. Don't be discouraged.

If you get lost, pull out your map and find your way to the right track.

But don't ever, ever, ever go backwards.

5. Multitask.

While you are losing weight, be good to yourself. Moisturize every day and night. Floss and brush and whiten. Pamper your feet and hands. Use lotion all over after a shower. Wear makeup and do your hair even when you don't feel like it. Because when you reach that goal, you will be glad you did all these other things. It's part of the package.

And remember, it's not going to happen overnight. But spring will come as it does every year, day by day...

Until  you wake up one morning and everything is just how you imagined it.

Gearing Up

Most people can't see it, but I have a very tiny scar on my chin(s). Just a discolored crescent about the size of a seed tick. I try my best to hide it under makeup or a flip of shoulder hair . But it is there to remind me of a few very important lessons in life:

1. Always use the right tools for the job

2. Never take shortcuts

3. Don't be lazy

So now I guess this is the part where you want to hear my story. The story of how I got this scar and why on earth it has anything to do with diet and exercise. 

It was a few years ago. I was sitting in my comfy desk chair in front of my computer, writing my daily blog. I had gotten a blast of inspiration and was trying to type as fast as my brain was spitting out words. I had no time for any distractions. Even my coffee cup was empty- and that never happens.

I paused a moment to rub my eyes and rest my chin in my hand. It was then that I felt it. A chin hair. And not some fragile, wispy spiderweb thin chin hair. It was at least a quarter inch long and made of 20 pound test line.

 I pulled. I picked. I even broke a fingernail trying to pluck that hair from its freakish follicle. I didn't have time to find a pair of tweezers!! So, I did what any lazy person would do. I opened up the desk drawer and found a pair of my husbands needle-nose pliers. Then, with a few painful pinches and a lengthy tug,  that bloody, werewolfish hair released its hold. And left a scar in its place.

So, you see, I'm here today to tie this story into our diet journey.

First, get the right tools!

A good scale for weighing portions is a must.

A notebook or journal for writing down everything you eat. Yeah, EVERYTHING. Even that dried up raisin or that cracker from the salad bar.

A calculator for figuring calories, points, or whatever method you chose to lose.

Personally, I am trying My Fitness Pal, an app that helps track your calories and exercise and weight loss. A great tool so far!

Next - don't take shortcuts!

Don't "guess" that slab of meat is 3 oz. Don't assume those pretzels are low fat. Don't figure an extra serving can't possibly hurt.

And don't be lazy! Put down that novel or that TV remote and get moving! Don't use being tired as an excuse to go through McDonalds for dinner. Don't be satisfied with "almost" to goal. 

And I'm here to tell you that you will bear scars forever if you don't do anything to change your lifestyle today. 

And you'll never be able hide them.

Cracking the Cocoon

Last night my husband was feeling badly right before bedtime. His stomach hurt and he decided to sit up in his chair awhile, hoping it would pass. Because we live in our little cabin now, (which is like a large hotel suite) I stayed in bed, propped up on my pillows and listened to the silence. I stared at the back of his head as he sat in his recliner, and I said a little prayer that he would soon feel better.

It was then that the importance of this diet hit me so intensely. 

We need to be well. 

We need to get healthy. We need to stop believing we are immortal - that we will be able to walk and see and talk and do all the things we've been doing all along.

Last year I lost almost thirty pounds. I could breathe. I could hold my grand baby while we sat cross legged on the floor - and I could get up from that position without having to crawl on my hands and knees to find a piece of furniture to pull myself up on. My bones didn't hurt. My heartburn disappeared. My energy levels increased. Romance returned.

You see, losing weight isn't all about sliding into a smaller, more fashionable pair of jeans. It's about feeling good. It's about prolonging your lifetime. It's about preserving the best of yourself and chucking the bad.

I listened as my husband went into the bathroom and threw up. He instantly felt better and slept well. This morning he's just fine.

But last night I hated the feeling that we aren't the best we can be.

 We eat way too much sugar and carbs. We spend days watching TV and playing on the computer. We make unwise choices when we eat out.

It scared me to imagine always being sick, weak and unable to enjoy this retirement, this beautiful place, my sweet family...

So, tomorrow is more than just a diet. It's a permanent change. 

A metamorphosis. 

We can't ever let ourselves crawl back into that big, fat, dark cocoon again.

We are going to be beautiful, graceful...free.

We are going to fly again.

Fluff=Fat

Every woman loves to accessorize her home and wardrobe. A strand of pearls and a cuff bracelet show off a plain black dress, a vase of flowers in the foyer sets a cozy mood, and colorful pillows on a white comforter bring a bedroom to life.

All those little extras are interesting embellishments that make for pleasurable living.

I think that is why diets are so difficult. We must chop away the extras. We have to get rid of the fluff, the garnishments, the icing on the cake, (so to speak.) We have to strip our choices down to a few wise and healthy options. We have to shed the idea of sauces, condiments, sweeteners, desserts, - and all those other decorations that make food so calorie-laden. 

We are exposing ourselves. Like being naked. It's the real us standing on that scale crying like a baby that just lost its pacifier. Where food once comforted us and defined us, we now must wean ourselves from those habits that shorten our lives. Plain and simple.

My problem is, I have no vision. I can't imagine myself thin a year from now. And if I do, I want it to be tomorrow- not next October! Not later! But now!

I want it to happen overnight. I want my Fat -Removing -Fairy -Godmother to whip her wand and sculpt my body into a fit celebrity worthy status. I want my rolls and layers and jiggles to melt like cotton candy in a rain storm. I want everything that's not necessary to be peeled away in a day. Not weeks, months or years!

But, that's not how it works. 

Accept the fact right now that the over- used saying of "One day at a time" applies to this journey. Results will be slow. Like building a house. When the dirt is being moved, you just can't imagine how it's going to look. But gradually the foundation is built, the walls go up, the roof is constructed and before you know it, you're tucked away all comfy inside enjoying your thin new body. 

This is going to be like  a road trip. You are going to make wrong turns, get lost,  feel weary, miss the familiar...but you know what is a great thing about this trip? You are going to lose your luggage!!!

Relax. Focus. Re-examine. Be patient.

Just think how nice that black dress will look in a smaller size. Then you can add all the embellishments you want and enjoy them even more.

The journey starts in 2 days...