Fat Calves and Vaseline on a Friday Afternoon

When I started out at this whole 'Change my life' thing, I set myself some goals. I wanted to (in no particular order):

-Comfortably fit into a North Face jacket
-Not fret about seat belts fitting when faced with air travel
-Have more energy
-Be able to shop at RW & Co
-Buy a fun pair of high black boots

Well. I can't find the North Face jacket that I fit into nicely. I have flown multiple times without worrying for a second about the seatbelt not buckling. I have oodles of energy. I have clothes that not only fit from RW & Co. but are now too big and gone to Goodwill.

I do not have high black boots. I can't fit in high black boots. I have been all over this city and the interwebs because other robustly calved woman have sworn to me that they found theirs at store x,y,z. I drive to stores x,y,z and ask for wide calf boots and I am met with looks of disdain from the workers. As though I am the only person in this entire world who had the audacity to ask for an additional inch around the fattest part of the lower part of their leg. I feel a little like Oliver Twist - every single time.

The interwebs were no more help. Clearly having been shamed at the shoe store, my kindred calved people flocked to cyber space to solve their wide conundrum. Every boot I have looked at and would wear in public shows Sold Out in red letters. Red, mocking letters. Could they not make more? Surely if they sold out before the cold weather kicked in, there was a good chance they could and would sell more. If supply and demand are a thing, then surely the could have charged the same as a Prius and folk like me would have paid it to cover up our skinny jeans without shame.

So today, I was at my sisters house and having never been able to wear the same clothes in our lifetime, I was excited to be trying on her dresses and to be picking which ones looked best for me to take on vacation. This was a big deal. Then I got ambitious when she brought me a pair of high boots. High dark grey suede boots. They looked promising. I was wearing a size Medium sundress. Certainly things couldn't be that bad.

That's when things got exciting.

I put the boot on my foot. My wide foot fit in the boot. Good news.

Then I tried to pull the boot up with the bottom zipper undone. If you are the lucky owner of these items I covet you know what I mean. It was tight. It didn't want to go up. So we both used our best determination to convince me that if I pulled it up, it would clear the widest part of my calf and then I could do up the ankle zipper. So I tugged and pulled and tugged some more. That didn't work. So I gave on massive yank and it was about 98% of the way up. Victory. I reached down to zip up the ankle part. While I was fighting with that, I started feeling a funny sensation in my foot. Like your foot falling asleep when you sit on the toilet reading too long (you know you do it - don't judge me).

Then my leg started to ache. Clearly the boot didn't fit. I needed to take it off and just keep on, keeping on at the gym. This wasn't a wide calve boot. It wasn't that big a deal. I just needed to take it off.

That's when things got fun.

I reached down to pull the boot off and it didn't budge. I pulled from the bottom. No movement. I tried pushing from the top. Nothing. I tried it all again. Nothing. Sat on the bed and tried. Stood up and tried. No movement at all, in any direction. It couldn't go up, and it would NOT got down.

So then, I did what all normal people do when faced with a situation of adversity. I started to laugh. Hard. I couldn't get the boot off and I couldn't feel my foot, my leg was swelling, and I couldn't maintain my composure.

"Sister, this boot has fused to the skin on my leg. Could you please pull?"

She is not any more composed than me at this point. But she gives it the college try. She tries pulling from the foot part. She tries pushing from the top part. She tries pulling on the zipper.

NOTHING.

Bridget is flitting and flying around the house making fun. Maggie's 7 week old baby Audrey is laying on the bed observing all of this with solemn eyes. She isn't judging yet.

So, the next logical thing to do was to give Maggie more leverage. So I lay on the floor of her spare room in the sun dress I was thrilled to have on and let her throw her back into it. She pushed and pulled and grunted with all of her might. It was not coming off.

Then it happens. I look at her her standing over me heaving and hauling with all of her might and I say "Oh sister, Audrey came out easier than this."

No one had any strength left to be pushing and pulling and heaving away and I couldn't feel my foot at all now. But we were laughing so hard we had no muscle coordination. It was a hard state. Then she suggests that perhaps we should wait for her husband to come home to help. Given my state of dress (and inability to put on pants) that didn't seem like the best idea. In my head, I envisioned emailing her money to reimburse her for the boot I was about to have to cut off my leg with garden shears (if I could manage to get them  to fit inside to cut with!)

Fearing at this point that my leg was in danger due to the searing pain where the top of the boot was cutting off the circulation and the fact that I couldn't feel my foot, I started to panic a little. "Baby oil," I shouted, "Get the baby oil."

Maggie tears out of the room and comes back with a jar of Vaseline. She jams her fingers into the top of the boot and tries to lubricate me enough to slide it off. This did nothing to help my laughing. Panic and laughing and no pants and a numb foot is really the best way to spend your Friday afternoon (said no one ever).

It took another ten minutes and half a container of Vaseline and a full aerobic work out on both our parts- but the boot came off. It feels like my calf was beaten with a baseball bat. We probably should have cut it off in the first 30 minutes of the whole ordeal. I probably shouldn't have forced it on when it was giving me loads of resistance. I probably shouldn't have tried them on when I was sceptical to start with. But it's off, and it's over and anyone who understands my plight will think it's funny. If the girl at the shoe store reads this she will probably scorn me like she does when I am shopping.

But, on the bright side of all of it - I didn't try to make it work in the middle of the shoe store and have to suffer the embarrassment of a petroleum jelly rescue. But, I guess if that had happened, I might have at least been wearing a pair of pants!

Setting a Goal to Keep Insight

What we vividly imagine, ardently desire, enthusiastically act upon, must inevitably come to pass."
- Colin P. Sisson

When I started this whole get healthy thing I was literally sitting in a hospital bed, trying to get over hernia surgery. I should have been back on my feet in no time but I wasn't. I got a massive infection and the only explanation the adorable doctor with the Russian accent told me is, "You are too big and we don't know where it is to fix it." Well then. If that isn't being told, I don't know what is.

On that day of my life I weighed 268lbs. I wore a size 3x shirt. I squeezed into size 24 pants because I refused to admit I needed a 26. I was in rough shape, but if you looked me in the face, I would have told you there was NOTHING wrong with me. I honestly believe I suffered from body dismorphia - in reverse. Instead of being the tiny person seeing someone much larger in the mirror, I didn't see me as morbidly obese. I saw me as just fine. And good for me really. To walk around confident and happy with myself at that weight, in those clothes, and winded at the top of any flight of stairs I dared to climb was really something. I hope I am always that confident.

Since that day, as you know if you have been reading my blog, I joined the gym and Weight Watchers and I have made tremendous progress. I have lost 66lbs since December 1. But along the way I have managed to stick to my Weight Watchers Points Program extremely well. It's manageable. It's not terrible. It works. I will take it.

However, I did slack off going to the gym. And I don't mean I went less. I mean, when I went to Las Vegas in March I went to the gym, first thing in the morning, every morning before venturing out of the hotel. I lost almost 3lbs in Vegas - and I didn't deprive myself of fun. I just made good choices. But for some reason when I got back, I just stopped going to the gym. It's not fun. I don't like to sweat. The treadmill is mindnumbingly boring to me. I.JUST.DON'T.LIKE.IT.

But I have still lost weight. Not as quickly and not as consistently as I had been. So last week, after my weigh in, I had a big think for myself. What was different?

Well, for starters, I have a goal. A big one. I want to lose 134lbs. That would make me 134lbs at my goal weight - exactly half my starting weight. Not bad. Maybe a little lofty, but totally doable.

But what I had stopped doing along the way was setting little goals. When I started reaching ones I had set, like 25lbs, 50lbs, fitting into a North Face coat, walking Signal Hill (and living to talk about it), I didn't set new ones. So I have been moseying along, on the path to get to 134lbs without any little goals along the way. I guess it would be like driving from Newfoundland to British Columbia without looking at anything else - or stopping to Pee.

So I made a new set of goals. To get to the gym or do some other sort of meaningful exercise 5 days a week.  And to lose an additional 20lbs by December 1. The one year anniversary of my surgery and wake up call. 19lbs gone would give me 85lbs gone in a year - 20 gone will be 85lbs and a little gravy!

Doing it won't be easy, which is why I am posting it here. It's easy to make a goal and tuck it into your pocket. It's another to make a goal, and put it on the internet for all the world who is interested in seeing it to see. Today was a stressful day (and family I love you but please don't call me to ask what's stressful. I am busy. Kids are busy. Business is busy. Life is busy. It's just stress and it will dissipate - or it won't and that's ok too). It was so stressful that this emotional eater might have run someone over with her car to get to a cupcake. Or McDonalds. Or anything really. But I had to have a firm talking to with myself and said "Self, there is NOTHING you can put aboard of you that will make anything run smoother. You will not ever be one cupcake closer to 85lbs lost, not ever, so just knock it off and keep on."

It worked.

After dance class I let Bridget have a Happy Meal as a treat. On the way home Jamie wanted Mary Browns. I got through 2 different drive through windows and came home to cook and eat chicken, broccoli, mushrooms, peppers and a little lime juice with a bunch of garlic. Oh yes. I did. Really... I couldn't be any prouder of myself. If I didn't have that 20lb goal, I might have just said, "Sure!" to any of those things today. I will eventually get to 134lbs so one bad meal among many won't hurt. But having a solid, quantifiable goal with the a firm deadline motivated me to NOT have those things I wanted.

And do you know what? That totally clean 4 Points Plus supper I ate was absolutely delicious and as I drink my herbal tea I am totally satisfied and so proud of myself for making a goal and doing my very best to work toward it.

Fixing the Slashed Tires

Life has been incredibly busy lately. It's the middle of wedding season, it's family portrait season, Bridget started Kindergarten, and my sister's baby shower is days away. There is lots going on and keeping my goals in site has been a struggle. It's hard to admit, but doing it all isn't always possible. In those moments, it's important to do the best we can, with what we have at the moment.

Three weeks ago, on a Friday, I didn't have time to track what I ate for breakfast, and that carried over to lunch. Supper came next, which wasn't tracked. The next day was the same thing. The weekend didn't get any less busy, and come Monday, I said 'Shag it, I wills start fresh on Thursday when I weigh in'. So for the rest of the week, I ate everything I saw. Everything I thought of. It didn't matter the distance, I would go get it. I was already destined for a gain that week - I might as well make it worth while.

Well let me tell you, doing that was not dissimilar to slashing your other three tires when you wake up to discover you have one flat. It doesn't fix the first tire, and only makes the disaster harder to fix. It's not a logical way to do things. It's not healthy or smart. It was however, easy, comforting and only mildly delicious.

On August 29, I walked into my Weight Watchers meeting and stood on the scale. Immediately the receptionist in charge of the scale said "Did you eat something salty?"

I imagine she was trying to help me find an excuse for what happened. I knew what happened. I ate 3.6 pounds worth of salty, sugary, processed junk and it showed up on the scale. I ate it in private, and it was showing up in public.

I stood at the scales and it was a crossroads. The previous week had been much easier. There was no planning involved. I got to eat what I wanted. I could have just gone home and continued. Instead I walked into my meeting to pay the piper. I admitted out loud how I had gone off the rails, what I had done, what I had eaten and why I had done it. Food is the most cruel addiction. You need it to live. You can't avoid it. You have to find it, buy it, store it, prepare it and clean up after it. Then you do it all about 4 hours later.

There is a huge group of people who have supported me through this. I text every one of them, ever single Thursday morning to tell them how I did. I didn't want to send any messages that Thursday. But I did. If I didn't do it, I would give up and not get on with my journey. I would revert back to the old me and gain back every ounce and more. I know the old me. She's still a part of me, but sometimes we do battle and I have to not let her win.

I vowed that the following week I would be better. And I was. I didn't track but I kept in line. I didn't eat nearly as bad and I tried to be sensible every day. I lost half of a pound last Thursday. It was only a tiny loss, but I had to keep in mind that my body doesn't know what Thursday morning is. I was probably still processing all of the foolishness I had consumed the week before. However, a loss is a loss, and I was happy to have it. It meant I was back in control.

I swore to myself I would track the following week. And I did. I tracked like it was my job. I tracked like my life depended on it. I tracked like if I didn't, all of the weight I had lost would come join my stomach again and I wouldn't have a pair of pants to wear. To keep myself motivated I took a before and after photo of myself and kept it on my phone. Whenever I was tempted to eat something I knew was not a good idea, I looked back at the photo. Keep in mind, I love those 2 photos on the top of myself. I felt pretty and good in both those outfits. The one on the right is on my bedside table (with the rest of the family and without my companies watermark of course!). Those aren't photos I picked because I looked terrible by comparison. The ones on bottom were taken 3 weeks ago - just before I fell off the wagon.

I just got home from my weigh-in. I am happy to report the fastidious tracking was well worth it. I was down 3.5 pounds. I am 1.2 lbs away from the halfway mark of my goal (which is 134 pounds in case you haven't read about it). I have lost 65.8 pounds. In 2.7 pounds the number on the scale will indicate that I weigh less than 200 pounds for the first time that I ever knew about. I weighed in 200lbs in high school. This is uncharted water for me!

I love 5lb milestones, so having hit 65lbs was a big deal today!

How are you doing with your journey?

xo,
Amy

The Celebratory Stomach Ache

A while ago, a woman I find extremely motivational asked on her Facebook page, if we find it harder to keep on track on the weekends. I didn't think I did. When you change your lifestyle, you pretty well change everything. You can't fall off the rails if everything around you is set up to keep you on the rails. I had everything well set up and my head was in the game. Weekends could not push me off the wagon.

The day I joined Weight Watchers, I said to Jamie, "When I lose 25 pounds, I want to go to a Chinese buffet and eat my face off. I will have earned it. If anyone looks at me OR my plate, I will stab them with my fork."

I got a raised eyebrow. 

I hit 25 pounds fairly quickly and I didn't think that going to Chinese buffet was necessary, or the best idea. I was afraid that having it would derail me. Make me go back to my old ways. To throw all the eggs on the floor after I had broken one. I didn't eat my face off, I just stayed the course instead.

The distance between 25 pounds and 50 pounds is the same amount of weight, but it seemed to take ages. I steadily made progress but seemed to be in the 30ish pounds down category for a very long time. We went on vacation when I was in the 40's and making good choices when we ate and visiting the gym before we left the hotel in the morning allowed me to have a great loss on my first weigh in when I came back. The 40's didn't stick around too too long, and I hit 50 pounds on Thursday. 50.6 pounds, but really, who is count?!

I was hell bent that I was going to eat my face off at the Chinese buffet that evening. Picky eaters ruined my plan and I didn't have it. I was a woman possessed. I was angry. I could have thrown things. It wasn't a rational response at all. But I wasn't feeling rational.

We planned to have it on Saturday, and because of the timing of my step sister's surprise birthday party, we didn't make it then either. Instead, I picked, and picked, and picked at the party. I also had more wine that I would ever have consumed, but since I wasn't having the Chinese binge (why lie and call it anything else) I justified it to myself that it was OK. I still tracked all of what I ate when I came home. It cut into my weekly Point allowance (something I rarely do) but I had a great night. I couldn't take it back and I didn't want to.

Today was Mother's Day and I woke up with great intentions (and a roaring headache!). Jamie attempted to make me breakfast in bed of boiled eggs. But because Bridget had ballet, Daniel had baseball and we needed to work a trip to Carbonear to Jamie's moms for lunch I ended up helping. I ate boiled eggs, without toast, knowing that I was likely going to have something extra at lunch and I wanted to not throw bread into the mix, after my foible with the wine the night before.

Rushing to ballet was a gong show and we just made it on time. Jamie dropped us off and went to get coffee. I ordered a Honey Lemon Tea. See, totally back on track.

On the hour long drive to his Mom's, my sister in law messaged to say there was a change of plans. Instead of chicken and salads, we were all going out to lunch. To the Chinese buffet.

How many expletives can I thrown into one Blog post without offending the masses? None? Ok. I'll say them but won't type them.

Off we go to Don's Chinese Buffet.

Now, I was in a pickle. I wanted the chicken balls, rice, noodles, egg rolls and chicken wings. But I had already gone and had indiscretions last night. As I looked at the buffet line, I had no healthy option. I looked at the menu and there weren't any there either. Order modified menu items is the mantra I hear to keep in mind in these situations. Doing this at a jam packed buffet restaurant on Mother's Day was just not in the cards. It would be bad Karma to ask the cook to whip me up something NOT on the menu when the place was rocking. I've worked in food service and there are just somethings I refuse to do.

My sister in law looked at me and said, "I don't know what you can eat here."

I didn't either.

Suddenly, Old Amy came and took over my body. She got a plate of food for Bridget and cut it up. She walked to the buffet line and picked up some off her favorites. She was careful not to take too much of any one thing. She added the broccoli shenanigans because she needed to and she ate the whole shazaam. She might have even taken a breath in there somewhere. Her plate was empty and everyone else was still eating. She didn't feel bad. She didn't feel like she shouldn't have eaten it. She said, "You lost 50 pounds damn it, go get yourself another plate." Then she used my feet to walk to the buffet line again to get 2 chicken wings, 2 chicken balls and a wonton. Then she watched as I ate it like a wolf. Honest to God, it would have taken someone to restrain me to keep me from that second chicken wing. And by restrain, I mean, encase me in cement.

Then she was gone. Old Amy and all of her crazy justifications, excuses and bull crap left around the same time the stomach pains showed up. The crazy nausea mixed with the stabbing pain that made me think that I was jousting with a real knight and was losing badly was enough to scare her back to Dodge.

I am fairly sure I used up my Points for the day, and a good chunk of my Weeklies. I am enjoyed every sip of wine last night, and every grain of fried rice today. It was all delicious and I thoroughly enjoyed my weekend. And I can't take a single calorie, Point, head ache or stomach ache back.

It's done now and all I can do is move on.

Right now I have Mother's Hubbards Cupboards and I need to get groceries. This is not the way successful cupboards look. So first thing tomorrow I need to plan my meals for the week, keep my head on straight at my Mother's, Mother's Day lunch and then go get groceries. Healthy ones that will allow me to keep on track and eat the good foods my body now craves.

I have thought about it a lot since I ate it. My big blowout cheat meal was 50 pounds in the making. It took me almost 6 months to have it so it was inevitable that I would give in and have a blow out on deep fried food covered in thick sugary red sauce. I wasn't going to be able to let it go. But my cheat meal is done now. And the more I think about it it, you can cheat on your diet, and it's likely to happen. But when you aren't on a diet, and you have committed to living a healthier life, it's not a diet you are cheating on- it's actually yourself. And in no way is it worth it.

 Much love and Happy Mothers Day to everyone who is or ever had a Mother!
Amy

14 + 36

When you have been big your entire life, it does't occur to you that there can be any other way.

I have never felt small, looked small or been small. This is not a statement based in self pity or self loathing. It is purely fact. I have been bigger than average my entire life. I assumed that since I just kept getting bigger, it's how I was made. I suspected it was genetic- and that was a convenient scapegoat. I was 'big boned'. There was no arguing with big bones, especially the life preserver sized one around my mid section.

Since I started this journey, and I have faced some incredibly hard truths. I have an addictive personality and I am addicted to food. While it doesn't seem as dangerous as heroine, meth or even alcohol, it is. I love the way food feels in my mouth and tastes on my tongue. I love the feeling of being full. I find eating out rewarding, comforting and thrilling - sometimes all at the same time.

I had also had to admit to myself and others, to make it real, that I eat in secret. It's embarrassing. On an episode of the Biggest Loser a contestant owned up to the fact that they would go through the drive-through, order, binge eat, then throw away the evidence. I cried along with them because I had done that, so many times I couldn't tell you, and I had done it only hours before.

I had to admit that one day, standing in the dressing room at Reitmans, I squeezed myself into a size 22 pants. The top half of me exploded out over the top of the pants. I looked in the mirror, I panicked. What was  I going to do?

It amazes me now, that  in that moment, when the largest pair of pants in the store were drastically too small, my solution to this problem was not, "Get it together, get healthy, make smarter choices, exercise, don't go through the drive-through on the way home". It was, "I think Pennington's sells bigger pants."

To make myself feel better, I am a Maple Pecan Danish and a Double Double on the way home. Then stopped by the park to throw out the bag before I went back to my house without new pants.

It took my health taking a nose dive for me to realize that I had a real problem. Not everyone was walking around like me. Not everyone had their head in the sand when it came to the fact that they were overweight  obese. Surely things could get better, because if they didn't, they were going to get much worse.


On December 1, 2012 I had surgery and then got very sick. It was then that I realized that I needed to change my life or I wasn't going to have one much longer. In the following 3 weeks, I watched everything I ate. I swore off pop, juice and other sugary things. I started to pay attention to what I was consuming. I did not keep anything I ate a secret. In that 3 weeks, I lost 14 pounds.

When I was well enough, I joined Weight Watchers. I had been a member during university and had lost a few pounds. I knew that writing things down and having someone else weigh me would keep me accountable. I needed to be accountable. I set a goal for myself to lose 50 pounds before my birthday on May 28 so that I could enjoy shopping for new summer clothes.

It is now May 9, 2013.

I just walked in the door from my Weight Watchers meeting and made a healthy breakfast. And now I have something I need to tell you. My weigh-in book says something exciting today. It says that since December 18th and May 9, I have lost 36.6 pounds.

I am not a rocket scientist, but I can do simple math. Today that equation is one that I am so incredibly proud of.

14 + 36 = 50

I have lost 50 pounds! 

I still have a very long way to go on this journey, but in less than 6 months I have lost 50 pounds, went from a 22/24 to a 17/18 in pants. 3x to XL in shirts. My smaller bras I bought are ridiculous again so I need to go shopping. And that's just the physical side of things. My head is so much clearer, my heart is so much happier and I feel joy.

Some of you have messaged me and told me that I inspire you. I can't believe anyone is telling me those words and I am in awe. I have also received messages that tell me you can't find it in yourself to start, you don't want it bad enough, you don't think you can do it.

Hear me now...

I felt that exact way 6 months ago. I didn't know any other way. I had an arsenal of excuses. But I just had to start. I know you can do it. The only thing standing in your way is you. All you need to do is start.

Don't worry about how long the journey will take-the time will pass anyway.

Much love,
Amy

(Grimace on my face has nothing to do with excitement. It's because I am a control freak and someone else was taking the picture!)

P.S I would love you to join me on my Facebook Calamity-Amy page! You will find it here! https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Misadventures-of-Calamity-Amy-by-Amy-Donovan/299809476447

One Meal At A Time

Yesterday I had to head out of town to Old Perlican for a few graduation photo shoots. It was a beautiful day, I put on my new pants which I would like to point out were a size smaller than normal, and loaded my gear into the car. I dropped Jamie at work, kissed him goodbye and climbed into the drivers seat.

Then I got a text.

"Drive safe, and did you pack a lunch?" It was Nancy. I can only describe her as the little white body that sits on my right shoulder to do battle with the little red body that is the former me, who sits on my left shoulder.

Crap.

My lunch was at home and the clock said I had no time to go back and get it.

Now what I was I going to do.

"Find a grocery store and pick up some fruits and vegetables," she messages.

Good plan.

I get on the highway with the coffee I picked up when I got gas, and the still green banana they had at the cash register. In case of a disaster, I would be OK. I might not like it, but I wouldn't starve.

Pictures went really well and I had an hour in between sessions. Old me would totally have asked the clients where the best place to eat was. Surely there had to be somewhere with fries, dressing and gravy in a town as cute as this!

Instead I tracked down the grocery store. Now, when faced with a lunch dilemma, old me would totally have scarfed down a bag of Roast Chicken chips, a Mr. Big bar and a full bottle of Lime Crush. Then I would have found a garbage, thrown out the evidence and moved on - possibly to find the fries, dressing and gravy spot!

 Instead, I found Foodland.

I canvassed the aisles, up and down, up and down, and gathered the attention of the people working there as I combed the aisles like I was looking for a lost earring. I had real trouble finding something that I should eat. There were lots of things I COULD eat but not much that I SHOULD eat. It would all require some sort of cooking or preparation and I was not equipped for this.

In the back of the store I finally tracked down a cooler with pre-made sandwiches. On May 3, the date on the sandwich told me it was good until my birthday- May 28. I had my doubts that it was preservative free. It was made with white bread which I no longer eat, but it did have real turkey. I took it. Now, off to find something to go with it. I desperately wanted a Babybel cheese, a container of Greek yogurt, or a salad. Not happening. However, I did find a shiny 5 point apple and a bottle of water. Off I went to the check out with my healthier choices - only to stand behind a well dressed, well built man, who was buying.... wait for it.... A bag of Roast Chicken chips a bottle of Pepsi and a darn Mr. Big bar. I had either just run into my soul mate with amazing metabolism or the devil himself at the Old Perlican Foodland - there to tempt me with my former favourites!

Do you know what happened?

The man turned around and in small town fashion said "Hello". He then checked out what I had on the belt. This is when I would normally have been mortified but indignant about my selections. Today I wasn't. I had made the best possible choices.

So what happened? Did I quickly change my mind and grab up the junk that was calling my name?

Nope! I ate my sandwich and washed down the gummy white bread with the water, and then I ate my apple as I drove down the highway enjoying the sunshine and looking forward to my next session. I was satisfied. I vowed to bring my lunch from now on because though I had made good choice, there were certainly better choices - white bread and mayo do not a healthy body make.

I faced the same internal battle again a few hours later. There are very few KFC's around here any more, and I had to drive past one on the way to Old Perlican. I had to pass the same one on the way back. When I was 10 minutes outside of Carbonear, I looked at the clock. It was nearly 4:30pm. I had loads of points left for the day, and I could work a Big Crunch into my day for supper if I wanted, and still not cut into my weekly Points. But then I thought back to the good decision I had made a lunch, I looked down and saw my new smaller pants and thought about how much energy I had buzzing through 3 photo sessions earlier.

I just drove past.

The KFC will still be there if the going ever gets rough enough that I can't live with out it. But right now, I just can't live with it.

Much love,
Amy

P.S. I would love to hear how you overcome your challenging moments and what you draw from to get through! Let's discuss in the comments section below!

 

Tell it to the Universe

Earlier this week I remarked to my friend Nancy that I wanted to have a '3 week'. I lose weight fairly consistently, but it had been a while since I had experienced a surprisingly good week.

Last night I made my peace with the fact that I hadn't been to the gym all week, and I had just come back from vacation and experienced a loss. I was going to be ok if today I stayed the same, or even had a small gain as surely it would just be my vacation catching up on me. I had been good, but not perfect. I was ready to get back on track and I was sure that this was the day that I was going to have to be strong and get through it and maybe next week, I could have a good week. It would all be alright.

As I waited for my turn on the scale, I said to the lady behind me, "I am standing here thinking I should run downstairs and pee."

"Nah," she said. "A bit of pee won't make a difference."

She was right and I was ready to take my lumps.

When I got to the scale, I couldn't believe it. Last week, the scale said 221.6 and this week it said 218.6 - a full 3 pound difference. I had my good week after all - I had my 3 lb week! Even though the exercise hadn't gone as planned, I still stuck steadfast to the eating and did everything I was supposed to. And it paid off!

Back when I joined WW, I made a personal goal of losing 50 pounds before my birthday on May 28 so that I would enjoy shopping for new summer outfits. I am less than half a pound from that goal on May 2. I couldn't wait until next week to hit 50 pounds, or my birthday to roll around. I couldn't help myself when I walked into Reitman's and tried on a pair of size 17 pants and a couple of XL shirts. They were a far cry from my previous size 24 pants and 3x shirts. I can hardly wait until tomorrow for the weather to be better so I can rock my new capris at a photo shoot!

I have had in the back of my mind for a long time that I would like to make a vision board with some personal and financial goals. I think me saying it out loud and things working out this week is a true testament that speaking to the universe isn't as silly as it sounds! I think it's time I get started with my scissors and glue!