I have been feeling pretty proud of myself for losing 51 pounds and keeping it off for more than two years. As many of you know, what finally led to success after so much failure was that I I used the BodyBugg like the contestants on The Biggest Loser do. It worked!
Recently, despite no attempts on my part to do so at all, I lost five pounds in a week, taking me suddenly down to 157. Oh-oh, I thought, because in addition to the weight loss, I was feeling increasingly lousy. But would I go to the doctor, despite my sister's urging? And she's an RN, so she knows whereof she speaks. Oh, heck no. Dr. Fat Cat was in, and busily misdiagnosing herself, but mostly just busy ignoring the obvious.
Then on New Year's Day, a bit of divine intervention. I was carrying a tray of food up the stairs at the entrance to a friend's house when I just fell backwards down the stairs. I fractured my collarbone, the first fracture of my life and essentially a minor one. Here I am a month later, and I am fine.
But here's where the miracle comes in. They had to call 9-1-1 because I was obviously injured, and had hit my head, but not hard enough to knock any sense into me. When the EMT shone a penlight into my eyes as part of my neurological assessment, he looked very concerned and gave the penlight to his partner, who looked into my eyes and also looked very concerned. But neither said anything as they were trying to deal with my immediate problem, the fracture.
In the ambulance, I asked the EMT riding with me what they had seen in my eyes, and she just told me something was wrong and to get to an eye doctor right away. Right away didn't turn out to be possible as I was confined to my house for two weeks, but I went on January 17th. After a very extensive two hour exam, the doctor told me the structures in my eyes were fine, but he suspected I had something he called TED, or thyroid eye disease. He wrote down the names of three tests, and sent me to my primary care doctor.
Sure enough, the tests proved I have Graves' Disease, an autoimmune disorder that makes your body make way too much thyroid. Left unchecked, Graves can eventually cause blindness, heart attacks, congestive heart failure, permanent hand tremors, all sorts of nasty things. I had the tremors; I had the racing heart; I had increasingly severe eye problems, and I was blithely ignoring it all until, and believe me, this is how I feel and will always feel about my accident, God told my guardian angel to gently toss me down the stairs, only allowing me to suffer just enough of an injury to require an ambulance. Why do I feel this way? Because the doctor told me that anyone falling backwards down seven stairs should be dead, or at the very least, seriously and perhaps permanently injured. I am not only not dead, but I have been given a new lease on life. Everyday, as the medications work a little better to bring down my thyroid levels, I feel a little better.
My challenge now is that I understand I was maintaining my weight not through any great discipline on my part, because I have very little left of the determination that carried me through the original weight loss. I was taking my weight stability as a given even though I had started stuffing junk back in my face.
Now, without the help of those way too high and wildly dangerous thyroid levels, I am truly going to have to watch my weight, like a real, dedicated, knowledgeable person, not like someone who just thought she got lucky with the weight loss wheel of fortune. Now comes the real trial of my nature and I welcome it, because ever since God cared enough about me to throw me down those stairs to get me to pay attention to my health, I am feeling more blessed than ever, and along with that comes a touch of invincibility. Yeah, I know. I've got to work on that invincibility thing.
Now orbiting more slowly,
Planet Fat Cat
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
They Don't Call it the "Alli Ooops" for Nothing!
So a few weeks ago I posted that I had intended to begin blogging again about my weight issues (and this time, I MEAN it!)... and then promptly disappeared. Not to be rude, but shame on you, the public, for thinking I meant it when I said I meant it. Really, as with most things, it's your fault, and it's about time y'all start taking responsibility for your actions.
Now that you've apologized, we can get on with setting a baseline.
I am currently a very svelte and muscular 220.5 pounds and change (we can believe in). And when I say "svelte", I mean "rotund". "Muscular" is also a very liberal definition unless it has recently come to mean "weaker than a new-born faun". But naturally age and some modest (for a hibernating grizzly) weight gain hasn't detracted from my overwhelming natural charm.
If by "charm" you mean "light nervous sweat odor".
But why get caught up in definitions? Is this a wiki? No, this blog is a place to find out what works and what doesn't in weight loss.
Sadly, I only know about the "what doesn't".
Oh well. That still has some value, especially when I tell you NEVER TO EVER TAKE ALLI PILLS EVER IN YOUR LIFE.
I could say why, but my mother told me not to talk about diet pills that make you mildly incontinent... in public... at work... TWICE.
You have been warned.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Pigassus? Calling Pigassus!
Yes, I am rubbing your nose in it, but only to get you fired up. I've already lost five of the 10 pounds I gained. Nanner, nanner, whatever in the !#!$?#!! that means.
I wish I could say I have been saintly and stopped drinking Coca-Cola, but then I would be lying. I never lie on purpose; only accidentally, to make things more wonderful or more terrible than they really are, but you already know this about me. Anyway, come on, Pigassus! Get back on the bandwagon, but do it carefully. I wouldn't want it tilting precipitously over to your side, you know.
Snigger.
Planet Fat Cat
Now back in orbit
I wish I could say I have been saintly and stopped drinking Coca-Cola, but then I would be lying. I never lie on purpose; only accidentally, to make things more wonderful or more terrible than they really are, but you already know this about me. Anyway, come on, Pigassus! Get back on the bandwagon, but do it carefully. I wouldn't want it tilting precipitously over to your side, you know.
Snigger.
Planet Fat Cat
Now back in orbit
Saturday, August 14, 2010
I'm Back, Too...Kinda Sorta
My favorite commenter read the post of Pigassus...(hmm, The Post of Pigassus...that sounds like a book title) and wrote to inquire about my current weight. Until two months ago, I had been maintaining right at 162 pounds and a size 12, then I injured my shoulder. I didn't realize how much the injury had impacted my activity level until I stepped on a scale this week and saw that it read 172 pounds.
No panic. I am still a size 12 and 10 pounds is not an insurmountable obstacle. I started watching what I was eating a bit more closely, stepped up my activity level a bit, and I am already down to 171, so I will do the work and get it done. Who knows? This time around I may even get below 160. That was one goal I never did reach. I was pretty happy once I was able to zip up a size 12 pair of jeans with no struggles, and I found myself content with where I was.
Not any more. I can't let this 10 pound gain turn into a 20 or 30 pound gain, because then all my hard work to lose the weight to begin with would be for naught, so FatCat is back, too!
No panic. I am still a size 12 and 10 pounds is not an insurmountable obstacle. I started watching what I was eating a bit more closely, stepped up my activity level a bit, and I am already down to 171, so I will do the work and get it done. Who knows? This time around I may even get below 160. That was one goal I never did reach. I was pretty happy once I was able to zip up a size 12 pair of jeans with no struggles, and I found myself content with where I was.
Not any more. I can't let this 10 pound gain turn into a 20 or 30 pound gain, because then all my hard work to lose the weight to begin with would be for naught, so FatCat is back, too!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
The Pig Is (fat) Back!
It has been two years since I have posted. But now, with the grace of God and more than a couple of Alli tablets, I have returned. And though I am nearly incontinent, both literally and verbally, I intend to restart the blogging and get on, at last, with the weight loss ... again, one more time - for real though - and I mean it.
You have been warned.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
162 It Is
A commenter asked me to talk about where I am now in my weight loss journey. I never did lose that last 17 pounds, but I haven't gained any weight back, either. I live, eat and exercise in a relaxed way, not counting calories or worrying about if I skip a day working out. It seems I did totally change my body chemistry to the point where 162-165 is now my new normal weight. That makes me a size 12, and I did go buy new clothes once I realized the last 17 pounds were not coming off in any reasonable or rational way like the first 44 pounds did. I am content.
So Earl, thank you for asking. I am doing well and maintaining, even though I never did hit the original goal weight. I think one of the things that stopped me and settled me down at 162 was that I'd lost so much weight that people were starting to ask me if I'd been ill.
Just the opposite. I am well and truly intend to stay that way!
Fat Cat
Now in a smaller orbit
So Earl, thank you for asking. I am doing well and maintaining, even though I never did hit the original goal weight. I think one of the things that stopped me and settled me down at 162 was that I'd lost so much weight that people were starting to ask me if I'd been ill.
Just the opposite. I am well and truly intend to stay that way!
Fat Cat
Now in a smaller orbit
Friday, July 31, 2009
I am Now a Size 12
Shortest post in history. Just 17 more pounds to my goal weight and a size 10. (I started at size 18! Ugh!)
I am so proud of what I have accomplished. Still not quite sure how I did it, but it felt really good slipping into those size 12 jeans last week and having them feel loose and zipping the zipper right up with no trouble whatsoever. They looked hot!
The weight is coming off more slowly now, but it is still coming off, and that's the important thing.
I am so proud of what I have accomplished. Still not quite sure how I did it, but it felt really good slipping into those size 12 jeans last week and having them feel loose and zipping the zipper right up with no trouble whatsoever. They looked hot!
The weight is coming off more slowly now, but it is still coming off, and that's the important thing.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Notes From the "Ouch! Ouch! Damn, That Hurts!" Department
I opined a while back that even once I reached my goal weight, men would continue to ignore me. I was wrong.
A living, breathing, good-looking guy with all his limbs and most of his teeth took notice of me last week. I liked what I saw, and it seemed he liked what he saw. We went to dinner, and I liked what I heard. He had a great sense of humor, and apparently, we were raised in parallel universes, with similar family histories. We enjoyed the same movies, we both like gardening, and we each had an interest in organic food. As we talked, I was stunned to feel that little frisson of energy toward him that I haven't felt in more than 20 years. I was actually attracted to this guy, and I was hoping he felt the same way about me.
At that moment, if I'd had a Magic 8 Ball in my purse, I believe it would have said, "All signs point to Go."
We went out to dinner and closed down the restaurant; they had to flick the lights on and off to get us out of there. The conversation was lively and never one-sided, and he leaned slightly forward across the table as he spoke...good body language, I thought. We made another date for three days hence.
Then he drove me home. We sat in his car for a couple of minutes and he asked me about my children. I proudly gave him a brief bio of each. Then he asked me how old they were. I told him, 24 and 27. His eyebrows shot up.
"Then how old are you?" he asked in alarm.
"60," I said truthfully, because I see no reason to be dishonest about my age.
He face turned into a mask of horror, I mean, genuine horror. Obviously without thinking, he plastered himself up against the driver side door, as if he'd suddenly discovered there was a rattlesnake in his car. He wanted to get as far away from me as he could without being patently rude. I felt like any second he was going to whip out the garlic and a sterling crucifix to protect himself from what he seemed to regard as a creepy and terrifying specimen of the UnDead.
"Why don't you look your age?" he seemed to be asking me telepathically and accusingly, as if I had led him into something by winsome subterfuge. I got the feeling he thought I slept in a coffin to protect my delicate white skin, and also because I might melt if exposed to sunlight.
The silence was deafening. He appeared to be going into catatonic shock, so I figured I'd better say something fast.
"How old did you think I was?"
"My age," he said. "45."
Only 45. Wow. Flattering in a way; it let me know I'm looking pretty good for my age, but the look on his face squashed any pleasure I might have felt over the compliment.
No wonder the poor guy was terrified. He had accidentally gone out with someone old enough to be his mother, and worse yet, he'd been attracted to me. Eeew! I'm pretty sure that's what he was thinking. And as for what he was feeling, he looked slightly green about the gills, as if he might throw up at any moment. I felt awful. I felt bad for him, and even worse for myself.
"Oh, my God! I'm a cougar!" I thought. It was my turn to be horrified.
I'd been sitting in his car in perfect ease, feeling like I belonged there, and he'd just let me know in no uncertain terms that I didn't. I am a 60-year-old woman who, through no artifice at all but just good Polish field hand genes, looks far younger than my age. The 43 lost pounds don't hurt my looks one bit, either. But, newly attractive and self-confident or not, the two traits I think attracted him to me in the first place, now that he knew my age, he was plain terrified of me.
Just like that, with the simple utterance of a number, he was repulsed, frightened, and in a damned big hurry to get me out of the car. I don't know what scared him the most; the fact that I was 60, or that he'd been attracted to a 60-year-old-woman. Probably a little of both.
To his credit, he kept the second date, and was charming throughout the evening, telling me he really liked me and thought we would be great friends.
Yeah, friends. Only I haven't heard a peep from my new "friend" in a week, and my money is on I'll never hear from him or see him again as long as I live.
The sad thing is, if I had been his age, 45, and he had been 60, there would have been no problem. I would have acted on my attraction to him, and suffered no scorn from society, nor would he. But for a 45-year-old man to date a 60-year-old woman? He would have been shredded by his family and friends, excoriated. And to be honest, when I found out he was 15 years my junior, I felt a little creepy, too, as if I had robbed a cradle or gone out with one of my son's friends. It just didn't feel right. I certainly don't blame him for his reaction; it was predictable and completely normal, but it still made me feel sad.
Here's the good news. I've been buried inside my excess weight for two decades. The weight and the lack of confidence are mostly gone, and that's good news. When I was heavy, I was afraid to let myself feel attracted to a man because I thought rejection was inevitable. I'm not afraid any more.
So maybe this man wasn't right, but upon reflection, the whole incident feels more positive than negative. For one thing, I got to meet a great guy and go out with him twice, and both dates were really enjoyable. For another thing, it reminded me what it feels like to be a woman, and how nice it is to be in the company of a man I like and feel that nice little play of energy zinging back and forth across a table.
So, the next time I meet a nice man, (and I now feel confident there will be a next time...) I pray he will be close to my age. I've talked myself through, psychologically speaking, the feelings of hurt and rejection I felt last week. But if something like that ever happened again, I'm not sure I could avoid internalizing those negative messages...You're too old. Your age repulses me, therefore, you repulse me.
Still, if I could shed years in the same way I've shed pounds, I'm not sure I would do it. I don't mind being 60; in fact, I like it. And if the rest of the world automatically labels and marginalizes me because of my age, you know what?
That's their loss.
A living, breathing, good-looking guy with all his limbs and most of his teeth took notice of me last week. I liked what I saw, and it seemed he liked what he saw. We went to dinner, and I liked what I heard. He had a great sense of humor, and apparently, we were raised in parallel universes, with similar family histories. We enjoyed the same movies, we both like gardening, and we each had an interest in organic food. As we talked, I was stunned to feel that little frisson of energy toward him that I haven't felt in more than 20 years. I was actually attracted to this guy, and I was hoping he felt the same way about me.
At that moment, if I'd had a Magic 8 Ball in my purse, I believe it would have said, "All signs point to Go."
We went out to dinner and closed down the restaurant; they had to flick the lights on and off to get us out of there. The conversation was lively and never one-sided, and he leaned slightly forward across the table as he spoke...good body language, I thought. We made another date for three days hence.
Then he drove me home. We sat in his car for a couple of minutes and he asked me about my children. I proudly gave him a brief bio of each. Then he asked me how old they were. I told him, 24 and 27. His eyebrows shot up.
"Then how old are you?" he asked in alarm.
"60," I said truthfully, because I see no reason to be dishonest about my age.
He face turned into a mask of horror, I mean, genuine horror. Obviously without thinking, he plastered himself up against the driver side door, as if he'd suddenly discovered there was a rattlesnake in his car. He wanted to get as far away from me as he could without being patently rude. I felt like any second he was going to whip out the garlic and a sterling crucifix to protect himself from what he seemed to regard as a creepy and terrifying specimen of the UnDead.
"Why don't you look your age?" he seemed to be asking me telepathically and accusingly, as if I had led him into something by winsome subterfuge. I got the feeling he thought I slept in a coffin to protect my delicate white skin, and also because I might melt if exposed to sunlight.
The silence was deafening. He appeared to be going into catatonic shock, so I figured I'd better say something fast.
"How old did you think I was?"
"My age," he said. "45."
Only 45. Wow. Flattering in a way; it let me know I'm looking pretty good for my age, but the look on his face squashed any pleasure I might have felt over the compliment.
No wonder the poor guy was terrified. He had accidentally gone out with someone old enough to be his mother, and worse yet, he'd been attracted to me. Eeew! I'm pretty sure that's what he was thinking. And as for what he was feeling, he looked slightly green about the gills, as if he might throw up at any moment. I felt awful. I felt bad for him, and even worse for myself.
"Oh, my God! I'm a cougar!" I thought. It was my turn to be horrified.
I'd been sitting in his car in perfect ease, feeling like I belonged there, and he'd just let me know in no uncertain terms that I didn't. I am a 60-year-old woman who, through no artifice at all but just good Polish field hand genes, looks far younger than my age. The 43 lost pounds don't hurt my looks one bit, either. But, newly attractive and self-confident or not, the two traits I think attracted him to me in the first place, now that he knew my age, he was plain terrified of me.
Just like that, with the simple utterance of a number, he was repulsed, frightened, and in a damned big hurry to get me out of the car. I don't know what scared him the most; the fact that I was 60, or that he'd been attracted to a 60-year-old-woman. Probably a little of both.
To his credit, he kept the second date, and was charming throughout the evening, telling me he really liked me and thought we would be great friends.
Yeah, friends. Only I haven't heard a peep from my new "friend" in a week, and my money is on I'll never hear from him or see him again as long as I live.
The sad thing is, if I had been his age, 45, and he had been 60, there would have been no problem. I would have acted on my attraction to him, and suffered no scorn from society, nor would he. But for a 45-year-old man to date a 60-year-old woman? He would have been shredded by his family and friends, excoriated. And to be honest, when I found out he was 15 years my junior, I felt a little creepy, too, as if I had robbed a cradle or gone out with one of my son's friends. It just didn't feel right. I certainly don't blame him for his reaction; it was predictable and completely normal, but it still made me feel sad.
Here's the good news. I've been buried inside my excess weight for two decades. The weight and the lack of confidence are mostly gone, and that's good news. When I was heavy, I was afraid to let myself feel attracted to a man because I thought rejection was inevitable. I'm not afraid any more.
So maybe this man wasn't right, but upon reflection, the whole incident feels more positive than negative. For one thing, I got to meet a great guy and go out with him twice, and both dates were really enjoyable. For another thing, it reminded me what it feels like to be a woman, and how nice it is to be in the company of a man I like and feel that nice little play of energy zinging back and forth across a table.
So, the next time I meet a nice man, (and I now feel confident there will be a next time...) I pray he will be close to my age. I've talked myself through, psychologically speaking, the feelings of hurt and rejection I felt last week. But if something like that ever happened again, I'm not sure I could avoid internalizing those negative messages...You're too old. Your age repulses me, therefore, you repulse me.
Still, if I could shed years in the same way I've shed pounds, I'm not sure I would do it. I don't mind being 60; in fact, I like it. And if the rest of the world automatically labels and marginalizes me because of my age, you know what?
That's their loss.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Bouncing Around 165
As I continue on my weight loss journey, I've noticed I keep hitting certain sticking points. I had one at 195 pounds, another around 188 pounds, then 175, and now 165. If I have to keep bouncing around one weight, I'd much rather it be 165 pounds and not the 208 where I started.
What I really want is to start bouncing around 145 pounds. When I hit that goal (and hit it I will) I'll be back in my size 10s and looking swanky. It's probably just as well that I've been overweight these past 20 years, because I'm dangerous when I feel swanky, and I had kids to raise.
The kids are both grown now, so there's nothing holding me back except that last 20 pounds. Once I hit that mark, I'm going out and buying a new wardrobe, and ALL the fat clothes will go to Good Will.
Then, look out world!
Fat Cat
What I really want is to start bouncing around 145 pounds. When I hit that goal (and hit it I will) I'll be back in my size 10s and looking swanky. It's probably just as well that I've been overweight these past 20 years, because I'm dangerous when I feel swanky, and I had kids to raise.
The kids are both grown now, so there's nothing holding me back except that last 20 pounds. Once I hit that mark, I'm going out and buying a new wardrobe, and ALL the fat clothes will go to Good Will.
Then, look out world!
Fat Cat
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
20 Pounds To Go
A long time ago and in a galaxy far, far away, when I was sitting on top of 68 excess pounds and feeling lousy about myself, I didn't think I could change. I didn't believe there was anyway I would ever be able to lose weight. I'd tried every diet, plus faithful and religious cardiovascular exercise and strength training and got...nothing. While the muscles underneath my fat became quite shapely, the blobs of avoirdupois heaped atop those muscles wouldn't budge. Worse yet, the fat hid any attempt I made at rearranging my shape.
I don't know what happened except to say that I gave up. I stopped walking on my treadmill, stopped lifting weights, thinking, "If I'm going to be fat for the rest of my life, at least I won't have to be sore and worn out." And paradoxically, that's when I started losing weight. I also bought the BodyBugg used on The Biggest Loser and had great success with it for two months; then I developed a hideous burn underneath the sensor they told me was an allergic reaction to the metal, and said I couldn't ever wear it again.
I'd lost only eight pounds with Bodybugg when this happened, one pound a week for eight weeks. But during that eight weeks, something happened inside my head. I began to know instinctively what an 1800 calorie day should be, and what a 2300 calories burned day felt like. I knew when I hadn't been active enough, or when I'd overeaten by the way I felt. I just went with those feelings and here I am, 43 pounds lighter with no BodyBugg to guide me, and just 20 pounds to go to reach my goal weight. At the moment I am 165 pounds, less than I have weighed in almost 20 years.
I feel great, people keep giving me compliments about how I look, and all those muscles I developed lifting weights now actually show. I am wearing terrific, classic, timeless clothes from the back of my closet that I haven't been able to button or zip in more than 2 decades. And yes, I'll buy myself some new clothes...when I reach my goal weight.
So, even if you haven't been successful at losing weight, don't give up. I kept floundering around until I found something that worked for me. Even though I was only able to use the BodyBugg for eight weeks before developing a metal allergy, that was time enough to me to get the message, to take into my head and my heart what I needed to do to reach my goals. It wasn't about self-deprivation or giving up my favorite foods. It was about portion control, eating every 3 hours or so and starting to exercise again.
I was a size 18 when I started; I'm a size 12 now. Next stop: size 10!
Planet Fat Cat
Now moving in a smaller orbit
I don't know what happened except to say that I gave up. I stopped walking on my treadmill, stopped lifting weights, thinking, "If I'm going to be fat for the rest of my life, at least I won't have to be sore and worn out." And paradoxically, that's when I started losing weight. I also bought the BodyBugg used on The Biggest Loser and had great success with it for two months; then I developed a hideous burn underneath the sensor they told me was an allergic reaction to the metal, and said I couldn't ever wear it again.
I'd lost only eight pounds with Bodybugg when this happened, one pound a week for eight weeks. But during that eight weeks, something happened inside my head. I began to know instinctively what an 1800 calorie day should be, and what a 2300 calories burned day felt like. I knew when I hadn't been active enough, or when I'd overeaten by the way I felt. I just went with those feelings and here I am, 43 pounds lighter with no BodyBugg to guide me, and just 20 pounds to go to reach my goal weight. At the moment I am 165 pounds, less than I have weighed in almost 20 years.
I feel great, people keep giving me compliments about how I look, and all those muscles I developed lifting weights now actually show. I am wearing terrific, classic, timeless clothes from the back of my closet that I haven't been able to button or zip in more than 2 decades. And yes, I'll buy myself some new clothes...when I reach my goal weight.
So, even if you haven't been successful at losing weight, don't give up. I kept floundering around until I found something that worked for me. Even though I was only able to use the BodyBugg for eight weeks before developing a metal allergy, that was time enough to me to get the message, to take into my head and my heart what I needed to do to reach my goals. It wasn't about self-deprivation or giving up my favorite foods. It was about portion control, eating every 3 hours or so and starting to exercise again.
I was a size 18 when I started; I'm a size 12 now. Next stop: size 10!
Planet Fat Cat
Now moving in a smaller orbit
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Ignoring Your Audience
They say there's someone for everyone, but I've rarely beheld an entertainment match as near perfect as Bravo TV and Project Runway. That was of course, until those peckish Weinstein brothers broke it up.
Following a truly nasty legal battle, the courts decided the Weinsteins didn't have to honor their contract with Bravo, and allowed them to take Project Runway to Lifetime.
What? How will the 5-hankie network and Project Runway ever work together? And how will I ever conquer the mortal fear and loathing that overcomes me every time my channel clicker accidentally lands on Lifetime? The answer is: I probably won't. Because the kind of people who watch Bravo are not the same kind of people who watch Lifetime.
I'm not making any kind of judgment call here. I'm not saying that people who watch Bravo are intrinsically cooler, smarter, hipper, etc. than the people who watch Lifetime. I'm just saying I don't think most of them will make the switch. I think a lot of people are going to forget about Project Runway, because it won't be in its accustomed spot. I'm saying a lot of people will not bother to turn on Lifetime just so they can follow Project Runway. I know I won't.
I am not judging a book by its cover. I've watched Lifetime programming on occasion. When I first got cable, I tried several of their programs. But I couldn't stay with any of them. The weeping, helpless damsels in distress, who always rely on a strapping hunk of man for rescue just got to be too much. The hokey dialogue, the circumstances contrived to throw the damsel in harm's way and have the hunk standing by; the damsel's tearful refusal to give in to his charms until his boiling sexuality just mows her down...oh, please.
Even the commercials I saw on Lifetime were offensive. One that was burned into my memory was an ad for Playtex bras designed for women with "healthy" figures. The models all squeezed their enormous breasts together as they said this, leading me to believe that whoever produced the commercial must have thought that anything smaller than a 44DD was somehow..."unhealthy."
Deeply offensive. And I'm not carping because I'm flat-chested, either. I'm in the middle when it comes to breast size, and I am perfectly content with what nature gave me, even if some obnoxious bra company thinks it "unhealthy." Okay, so they didn't come right out and say that normal-sized breasts were unhealthy, but they certainly implied it.
And now, this bastion of healthy bosoms and snot rags is going to be home to Project Runway?
I don't think so. I predict this match will last but a year. Once the Weinsteins see how execrable their ratings are, compared to what they were on Bravo, maybe they'll rethink their money-grubbing strategy and head back to Bravo. That's where Project Runway belongs.
Following a truly nasty legal battle, the courts decided the Weinsteins didn't have to honor their contract with Bravo, and allowed them to take Project Runway to Lifetime.
What? How will the 5-hankie network and Project Runway ever work together? And how will I ever conquer the mortal fear and loathing that overcomes me every time my channel clicker accidentally lands on Lifetime? The answer is: I probably won't. Because the kind of people who watch Bravo are not the same kind of people who watch Lifetime.
I'm not making any kind of judgment call here. I'm not saying that people who watch Bravo are intrinsically cooler, smarter, hipper, etc. than the people who watch Lifetime. I'm just saying I don't think most of them will make the switch. I think a lot of people are going to forget about Project Runway, because it won't be in its accustomed spot. I'm saying a lot of people will not bother to turn on Lifetime just so they can follow Project Runway. I know I won't.
I am not judging a book by its cover. I've watched Lifetime programming on occasion. When I first got cable, I tried several of their programs. But I couldn't stay with any of them. The weeping, helpless damsels in distress, who always rely on a strapping hunk of man for rescue just got to be too much. The hokey dialogue, the circumstances contrived to throw the damsel in harm's way and have the hunk standing by; the damsel's tearful refusal to give in to his charms until his boiling sexuality just mows her down...oh, please.
Even the commercials I saw on Lifetime were offensive. One that was burned into my memory was an ad for Playtex bras designed for women with "healthy" figures. The models all squeezed their enormous breasts together as they said this, leading me to believe that whoever produced the commercial must have thought that anything smaller than a 44DD was somehow..."unhealthy."
Deeply offensive. And I'm not carping because I'm flat-chested, either. I'm in the middle when it comes to breast size, and I am perfectly content with what nature gave me, even if some obnoxious bra company thinks it "unhealthy." Okay, so they didn't come right out and say that normal-sized breasts were unhealthy, but they certainly implied it.
And now, this bastion of healthy bosoms and snot rags is going to be home to Project Runway?
I don't think so. I predict this match will last but a year. Once the Weinsteins see how execrable their ratings are, compared to what they were on Bravo, maybe they'll rethink their money-grubbing strategy and head back to Bravo. That's where Project Runway belongs.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Another Update
I'm still having trouble believing this is all happening, but I have continued to lose weight. I now have lost 40 pounds, and have just 25 more to reach my goal.
My primary reason for posting today is in support of my favorite television show, "Chuck." It's one of the few family friendly shows on TV, and it's got a little bit of everything...humor, romance, suspense, action. I just signed a petition asking NBC to renew it for a third season. It hasn't been cancelled, but it hasn't been renewed, either.
They have it stuck in a terrible time slot, Mondays at 7 p.m. when The Big Bang Theory comes on, and now Fox has moved House to that slot as well. I wish NBC would move the show to Wednesdays at 7 p.m. CST, where it would have a chance to grow, thrive and find a bigger audience.
Anyway, that's my two cent's worth for today! See the petition to the right of this blog, and if you feel so inclined, please sign it.
Fat Cat
(no longer a separate planet unto herself; more like a minor star)
My primary reason for posting today is in support of my favorite television show, "Chuck." It's one of the few family friendly shows on TV, and it's got a little bit of everything...humor, romance, suspense, action. I just signed a petition asking NBC to renew it for a third season. It hasn't been cancelled, but it hasn't been renewed, either.
They have it stuck in a terrible time slot, Mondays at 7 p.m. when The Big Bang Theory comes on, and now Fox has moved House to that slot as well. I wish NBC would move the show to Wednesdays at 7 p.m. CST, where it would have a chance to grow, thrive and find a bigger audience.
Anyway, that's my two cent's worth for today! See the petition to the right of this blog, and if you feel so inclined, please sign it.
Fat Cat
(no longer a separate planet unto herself; more like a minor star)
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Time for an Update
It's been a while since I wrote anything here. Someone posted an interesting comment on one of my entries yesterday, and it got me to thinking...I should probably write something about my progress, because I'm more than halfway to my weight loss goal and fitting into clothes I haven't been able to wear in years.
I can't exactly explain how I did it because I've changed so many things. I got serious about exercising, switched to an almost totally organic diet, started juicing and de-toxing and bought the gadget the contestants on The Biggest Loser use, the BodyBugg. I'm more aware than ever of what I put in my mouth, not just calorie-wise, but quality-wise. I'm also more aware of my activity level during the course of the day. When I check my Bodybugg, if my calorie burn isn't where I want it to be for that day, I shut down my computer and get my humpty up on the treadmill. I've lost 33 pounds (31 more to go) and 15 inches, most of it in the right places.
I also took the energy I was spending whining on this blog and applied it to myself in a positive way. Positive energy=positive results.
I know that getting to my weight loss goal is within reach. I'm losing about a pound a week, so in just under eight months, I will be back to my normal weight, and I will be wearing a size 10 again.
Then I'm going shopping!
Planet Fat Cat
In a smaller orbit now
I can't exactly explain how I did it because I've changed so many things. I got serious about exercising, switched to an almost totally organic diet, started juicing and de-toxing and bought the gadget the contestants on The Biggest Loser use, the BodyBugg. I'm more aware than ever of what I put in my mouth, not just calorie-wise, but quality-wise. I'm also more aware of my activity level during the course of the day. When I check my Bodybugg, if my calorie burn isn't where I want it to be for that day, I shut down my computer and get my humpty up on the treadmill. I've lost 33 pounds (31 more to go) and 15 inches, most of it in the right places.
I also took the energy I was spending whining on this blog and applied it to myself in a positive way. Positive energy=positive results.
I know that getting to my weight loss goal is within reach. I'm losing about a pound a week, so in just under eight months, I will be back to my normal weight, and I will be wearing a size 10 again.
Then I'm going shopping!
Planet Fat Cat
In a smaller orbit now
Thursday, November 27, 2008
The Leper's Colony
Earlier today, I opined that even when I finally reach my weight loss goal, and I finally believe that might actually be possible, men will still ignore me simply because I am not 20 years old.
Hmmmph! Don't men ever stop to think what they might be missing by not getting to know older women? We're experienced, wise, kinder and less judgmental than we were in our first bloom, and more accepting of human failings in others because we're more aware of our own. But unlike other cultures where the wisdom of age is respected and relied upon, here in America, growing older is treated like a hideous disease. At least for women it is.
You know the old, true, but unfair saying, "Men grow distinguished while women grow haggard?"
Yeah, that one.
Haggard is terrifying to most of us. Here's an example. I am finally, at the tender age of 59, beginning to show a little age on my face. Just within the last week, as I've continued to lose weight, my face is collapsing ever so slightly as the underlying collagen infrastructure softens and settles. I was at the dermatologist having a mole checked and he looked at my face with concern. Then he softly touched the two gentle valleys that were forming on either side of my mouth.
"Don't you want me to fill those in?" he asked.
"No, I don't," I replied. "They're MY wrinkles, I've earned them and I'm proud of them."
He sent me away with a puzzled look, shaking his head as if considering whether he should have written me a referral to a psychiatrist. I mean, what woman wouldn't want to look younger?
This woman. I mean, think about it logically. If I look way younger than my age and I have lost all my weight, I might attract a much younger man. What could be wrong with that? Well, I've already raised my children. If there's going to be a man in my life at all, which at this late date I doubt, I want one who is my contemporary, who can laugh about the 60s and the 70s because he lived through them as a teen and young man, and not just because he read about them in a history book.
Alas, most of the available men my age, upon finding themselves single either through the death of their spouse or by divorce, immediately turn to the androgenous, anorexic "he-women," who weigh 95 pounds and 80 of those pounds are in their fake boobs. Most of the rest of the weight is taken up with hair extensions and gel nails. I mean really, you might as well sleep with a blow-up doll, but what from I read, many of you do anyway.
Geesh again.
This disrespect of and disaffection toward older women is not a problem I am going to solve all by myself. There are occasions, rare but undeniable, when I miss the comfort and warmth of an intimate relationship. But why risk it when I know all that awaits any forays in that direction is scorn and rejection? I can live without that.
Instead, like other older women, I am dismissed instantly and consigned to The Leper's Colony. It's where they send all women over the age of 30, all less than perfect or bothersome women, the place they'd prefer not to think about in case Fate ever sends them there.
On the whole, I am content with my life. I have two wonderful grown children, both a daughter and a son, a loving family of two sisters and a brother, supportive friends and work that I love. What more could I ask?
Oh, except for maybe...a day pass out of The Leper's Colony. That would be nice.
Hmmmph! Don't men ever stop to think what they might be missing by not getting to know older women? We're experienced, wise, kinder and less judgmental than we were in our first bloom, and more accepting of human failings in others because we're more aware of our own. But unlike other cultures where the wisdom of age is respected and relied upon, here in America, growing older is treated like a hideous disease. At least for women it is.
You know the old, true, but unfair saying, "Men grow distinguished while women grow haggard?"
Yeah, that one.
Haggard is terrifying to most of us. Here's an example. I am finally, at the tender age of 59, beginning to show a little age on my face. Just within the last week, as I've continued to lose weight, my face is collapsing ever so slightly as the underlying collagen infrastructure softens and settles. I was at the dermatologist having a mole checked and he looked at my face with concern. Then he softly touched the two gentle valleys that were forming on either side of my mouth.
"Don't you want me to fill those in?" he asked.
"No, I don't," I replied. "They're MY wrinkles, I've earned them and I'm proud of them."
He sent me away with a puzzled look, shaking his head as if considering whether he should have written me a referral to a psychiatrist. I mean, what woman wouldn't want to look younger?
This woman. I mean, think about it logically. If I look way younger than my age and I have lost all my weight, I might attract a much younger man. What could be wrong with that? Well, I've already raised my children. If there's going to be a man in my life at all, which at this late date I doubt, I want one who is my contemporary, who can laugh about the 60s and the 70s because he lived through them as a teen and young man, and not just because he read about them in a history book.
Alas, most of the available men my age, upon finding themselves single either through the death of their spouse or by divorce, immediately turn to the androgenous, anorexic "he-women," who weigh 95 pounds and 80 of those pounds are in their fake boobs. Most of the rest of the weight is taken up with hair extensions and gel nails. I mean really, you might as well sleep with a blow-up doll, but what from I read, many of you do anyway.
Geesh again.
This disrespect of and disaffection toward older women is not a problem I am going to solve all by myself. There are occasions, rare but undeniable, when I miss the comfort and warmth of an intimate relationship. But why risk it when I know all that awaits any forays in that direction is scorn and rejection? I can live without that.
Instead, like other older women, I am dismissed instantly and consigned to The Leper's Colony. It's where they send all women over the age of 30, all less than perfect or bothersome women, the place they'd prefer not to think about in case Fate ever sends them there.
On the whole, I am content with my life. I have two wonderful grown children, both a daughter and a son, a loving family of two sisters and a brother, supportive friends and work that I love. What more could I ask?
Oh, except for maybe...a day pass out of The Leper's Colony. That would be nice.
But by the Twelfth Day...
I had lost another pound! Gee, this one only took 12 days, just like i was waiting for Christmas...only not.
So I am down to 195 pounds, still enough to make grown men cry, which contrary to popular opinion, they do a lot anyway, if the exit interviews on this and several other seasons of Top Chef are any indication. But come to think of it, on Top Chef it's probably just the onions.
I am hoping that by the time I am down to 185 or 190, they'll stop doing that. It's very unattractive, not to mention disheartening, when a man sees you, bursts into tears, then turns and runs away, all while screaming for his mommy. Even more disheartening is when they look at you in abject terror, as if you were considering them for the appetizer course, or perhaps even the entreé.
Geesh!
Still, 195 pounds! That's 12 pounds down from a year ago, 12 miles up on my sense of self-confidence and 12 rocket-boosts of determination to keep going. 12 pounds really seems like something. The five pounds, not so much, but when this five pounds becomes 11 pounds and I finally fall below 190 pounds for the first time in many, many years, that will also mark a day of celebration. But just a day. I'll still have 44 pounds to go to reach my goal weight at which point grown men will stop, consider me thoughtfully and think to themselves, "Hmm, that woman has a pretty nice shape for an old broad," and then burst into tears and still run to their mommies because even though I will no longer be fat, I will still be OLD.
And that's a topic for another column.
A 195 pound...
Fat Cat
P. S. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
So I am down to 195 pounds, still enough to make grown men cry, which contrary to popular opinion, they do a lot anyway, if the exit interviews on this and several other seasons of Top Chef are any indication. But come to think of it, on Top Chef it's probably just the onions.
I am hoping that by the time I am down to 185 or 190, they'll stop doing that. It's very unattractive, not to mention disheartening, when a man sees you, bursts into tears, then turns and runs away, all while screaming for his mommy. Even more disheartening is when they look at you in abject terror, as if you were considering them for the appetizer course, or perhaps even the entreé.
Geesh!
Still, 195 pounds! That's 12 pounds down from a year ago, 12 miles up on my sense of self-confidence and 12 rocket-boosts of determination to keep going. 12 pounds really seems like something. The five pounds, not so much, but when this five pounds becomes 11 pounds and I finally fall below 190 pounds for the first time in many, many years, that will also mark a day of celebration. But just a day. I'll still have 44 pounds to go to reach my goal weight at which point grown men will stop, consider me thoughtfully and think to themselves, "Hmm, that woman has a pretty nice shape for an old broad," and then burst into tears and still run to their mommies because even though I will no longer be fat, I will still be OLD.
And that's a topic for another column.
A 195 pound...
Fat Cat
P. S. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
And on the sixth day...
I still haven't lost any more weight, even though the green tea guzzling continues apace. I think my body was so shocked that I tricked it into losing four pounds with green tea that my fat cells have dug in and gone into hiding for a long fight.
But I have to say, if I had my choice of hanging around the 200 pound mark, versus hanging around the 196 pound mark, I'll take the latter any day. I was so-o-o close to 195 today, 196.2 pounds, but I just didn't quite make it. Naturally, to console myself, I went off my diet, so tomorrow I'll probably be at 197 or 198. But I'll get myself back in hand soon.
One other interesting thing, my fancy scale that does everything but brush its own little teeth indicates I lost some body fat with the four pounds, so it wasn't just a fluid loss. And, my face is looking thinner. I didn't notice it, but three different friends on three different days have commented on it so it must be so.
Anyway, Top Chef is on, so I have to go torture myself for an hour by looking at fabulous food when I have already far exceeded my calorie count for the day.
Maybe I'll be back to 200 pounds tomorrow.
Ugh. I hope not!
But I have to say, if I had my choice of hanging around the 200 pound mark, versus hanging around the 196 pound mark, I'll take the latter any day. I was so-o-o close to 195 today, 196.2 pounds, but I just didn't quite make it. Naturally, to console myself, I went off my diet, so tomorrow I'll probably be at 197 or 198. But I'll get myself back in hand soon.
One other interesting thing, my fancy scale that does everything but brush its own little teeth indicates I lost some body fat with the four pounds, so it wasn't just a fluid loss. And, my face is looking thinner. I didn't notice it, but three different friends on three different days have commented on it so it must be so.
Anyway, Top Chef is on, so I have to go torture myself for an hour by looking at fabulous food when I have already far exceeded my calorie count for the day.
Maybe I'll be back to 200 pounds tomorrow.
Ugh. I hope not!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Ups and Downs
I can resist tempting foods, but I admit I am helpless in the face of certain magazines when I am standing in line at the grocery store. You know the ones: Woman's World and First for Women. Their covers always include a photograph of a fetchingly shaped woman, a woman whose body looks like I want MY body to look, and it is accompanied by a headline that reads thusly; "LOSE 50 POUNDS IN 3 DAYS WITH MAGIC EYE-BLINKING TRICK!"
Even though I know what I'm in for, even though I know there will be more "trick" than "magic," and certainly more "trick" than "weight loss," my hand reaches automatically for the guilty issues, and they are plopped into my basket at the last minute, whilst I chastise myself furiously for wasting money this way. And yet, and yet, they remain in the buggy, then find their way onto the conveyor belt, and before I can squeek out, "Er-um..." I've bought them.
Then I bring them home and morosely thumb through the short romance and the mystery in Woman's World, and the recipes in First for Women, all while trying to tell myself I DIDN'T buy them merely to read about their latest outrageous weight loss claims, when in fact, I did.
The articles always feature women who have been miserably fat their entire adult lives, but BF or "before fat," they were miraculously pretty, happy and successful. Every American woman knows how being less than svelte, less than perfect body-wise, can ruin your whole life, right? And if you don't, may I refer you to Woman's World and First for Women so you can get up to speed? Because they will let you know how truly awful you really are at your current weight, straight from the mouths of formerly overweight women who swallowed the magic beans thus prescribed and somehow, the beans worked for them, even though they never seem to work for me. But there they are on the cover of a magazine, and here I am, huddled behind my computer, writing this piteous bleat.
The weight loss and exercise articles usually consist of an excerpt from the New York Times best-selling "fad diet du jour" book. I confess I have on several occasions read the articles carefully, and then set out to do just what they suggest, which usually involves an investment of several hundred dollars in special food, vitamins, herbs, and equipment, not to mention the suggested book, plus I also buy additional life insurance in case I accidentally kill myself while trying to follow the diets and/or exercise routine.
I did one that consisted entirely of three days of watery protein shakes and fresh juice. The whole idea was that you were juicing or shaking every three hours or so, so you wouldn't be hungry. The payoff? A 10 pound loss in those three days.
Wrong.
By the end of three hours, much less three days, I was so hungry I might have cheerfully plopped my neighbor on the barbee if I had happened to see her in the yard. I was so hungry I was gnawing the legs of my dining room table for fiber and sustenance. I lasted one day and lost two pounds which came right back on the next day, plus one extra for good measure.
Now you may think that the "accidentally killing" myself part was somewhat of an overwrought reference, but sadly, it did almost happen. I, a strong woman who stands proudly on my sturdy, if somewhat overlarge "Pillars of Hercules," was reduced to a mewling kitten by one day of following some exercise routine posted in Woman's World. My doctor looked at the magazine and said any untested, out of shape ewe like myself who even tried to follow it would end up with a 100% chance of injury. And I did. I, whose back had never hurt for a day in my life, spent three days curled up in a fetal ball in my bed, howling in agony whenever I rose up from the haze of painkillers.
Fortunately the damage was not permanent.
So, you would think that I had learned, but no. I just bought a First for Women last week with a cover that reads: "Lose 47 pounds by Christmas!" I turned inside and found an article laden with claims but few facts. A thorough re-reading convinced me I could lose the weight by simply drinking 4 cups of green, black, white or oolong tea per day, sweetened with one ounce of orange juice per cup to increase its weight-reduction benefits. So I bit. I like tea, I like orange juice, so why not? At least it would be a relatively painless change.
And in four days I lost four pounds. I did. And they have stayed lost, even though I am still eating as per usual, and still half-heartedly exercising a few times a week. In other words, I didn't change a single thing except add the green tea, which I think must have flushed out some excess fluid from my body, and nothing more.
So, you do the math. I lost four pounds in four days, then nothing for the past five days, even though I'm still swilling tea like an intemperate barfly. That means I still have 43 pounds to go before Christmas. Today's the 18th of November, which means I have to lose more than a pound a day for the next 37 days. Which means...it ain't happening.
But I did lose those four pounds, and I am now finally below 200, those four pounds below, and I have to admit it is nice to see my weight fluctuate between 196 and 199 pounds during the course of the day, rather than between 200 and 203. It's just a psych thing, but it matters to me.
Even though I know what I'm in for, even though I know there will be more "trick" than "magic," and certainly more "trick" than "weight loss," my hand reaches automatically for the guilty issues, and they are plopped into my basket at the last minute, whilst I chastise myself furiously for wasting money this way. And yet, and yet, they remain in the buggy, then find their way onto the conveyor belt, and before I can squeek out, "Er-um..." I've bought them.
Then I bring them home and morosely thumb through the short romance and the mystery in Woman's World, and the recipes in First for Women, all while trying to tell myself I DIDN'T buy them merely to read about their latest outrageous weight loss claims, when in fact, I did.
The articles always feature women who have been miserably fat their entire adult lives, but BF or "before fat," they were miraculously pretty, happy and successful. Every American woman knows how being less than svelte, less than perfect body-wise, can ruin your whole life, right? And if you don't, may I refer you to Woman's World and First for Women so you can get up to speed? Because they will let you know how truly awful you really are at your current weight, straight from the mouths of formerly overweight women who swallowed the magic beans thus prescribed and somehow, the beans worked for them, even though they never seem to work for me. But there they are on the cover of a magazine, and here I am, huddled behind my computer, writing this piteous bleat.
The weight loss and exercise articles usually consist of an excerpt from the New York Times best-selling "fad diet du jour" book. I confess I have on several occasions read the articles carefully, and then set out to do just what they suggest, which usually involves an investment of several hundred dollars in special food, vitamins, herbs, and equipment, not to mention the suggested book, plus I also buy additional life insurance in case I accidentally kill myself while trying to follow the diets and/or exercise routine.
I did one that consisted entirely of three days of watery protein shakes and fresh juice. The whole idea was that you were juicing or shaking every three hours or so, so you wouldn't be hungry. The payoff? A 10 pound loss in those three days.
Wrong.
By the end of three hours, much less three days, I was so hungry I might have cheerfully plopped my neighbor on the barbee if I had happened to see her in the yard. I was so hungry I was gnawing the legs of my dining room table for fiber and sustenance. I lasted one day and lost two pounds which came right back on the next day, plus one extra for good measure.
Now you may think that the "accidentally killing" myself part was somewhat of an overwrought reference, but sadly, it did almost happen. I, a strong woman who stands proudly on my sturdy, if somewhat overlarge "Pillars of Hercules," was reduced to a mewling kitten by one day of following some exercise routine posted in Woman's World. My doctor looked at the magazine and said any untested, out of shape ewe like myself who even tried to follow it would end up with a 100% chance of injury. And I did. I, whose back had never hurt for a day in my life, spent three days curled up in a fetal ball in my bed, howling in agony whenever I rose up from the haze of painkillers.
Fortunately the damage was not permanent.
So, you would think that I had learned, but no. I just bought a First for Women last week with a cover that reads: "Lose 47 pounds by Christmas!" I turned inside and found an article laden with claims but few facts. A thorough re-reading convinced me I could lose the weight by simply drinking 4 cups of green, black, white or oolong tea per day, sweetened with one ounce of orange juice per cup to increase its weight-reduction benefits. So I bit. I like tea, I like orange juice, so why not? At least it would be a relatively painless change.
And in four days I lost four pounds. I did. And they have stayed lost, even though I am still eating as per usual, and still half-heartedly exercising a few times a week. In other words, I didn't change a single thing except add the green tea, which I think must have flushed out some excess fluid from my body, and nothing more.
So, you do the math. I lost four pounds in four days, then nothing for the past five days, even though I'm still swilling tea like an intemperate barfly. That means I still have 43 pounds to go before Christmas. Today's the 18th of November, which means I have to lose more than a pound a day for the next 37 days. Which means...it ain't happening.
But I did lose those four pounds, and I am now finally below 200, those four pounds below, and I have to admit it is nice to see my weight fluctuate between 196 and 199 pounds during the course of the day, rather than between 200 and 203. It's just a psych thing, but it matters to me.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Back again
Even though it's been a long time since I posted anything about my weight loss journey, I'm back again. I finally broke the 200 pound mark and now weigh 199 pounds. Since I started at around 207 pounds, that's an amazing weight loss of - "Ta-dah!" 8 pounds in 13 months. Yeah, I know. Hold your applause.
But at least, unlike previous years, I weigh less this year than last. So my walking must be doing something. Even if I can't really see any visible changes, it seems to have kept the usual 7 to 10 pound yearly automatic weight gain from accumulating. So, instead of weighing 214 to 217 pounds this year, I weigh 199 pounds. That's good.
That's how I got to be so overweight, was the yearly creeping up on me of a few pounds here, a few pounds there. At least this year, I lost weight instead of gaining it.
Since I'm a visual person, I like to use little reminders that serve to keep me on track with my goals. I now have 54 pounds to go to reach my goal weight of 145 pounds. I got a free ticker that shows my progress. I started a few weeks ago at 200 pounds and the slider shows the one pound I have lost since then.
Here it is:
I'm kind of mulling over a new approach to this blog, but have to talk to Pigassus first.
Anyway, that's all for now. Top Chef Season 5 premiered last night and I was disappointed that, on first look at least, I didn't find anyone to root for. The Biggest Loser is wrapping up its 6th season and it's been a doozy, with some of the nastiest contestants ever. The producers seriously need to take this show back to its original inspirational format and stop selecting contestants who are mentally unstable and who exhibit vicious personalities on air. It's embarrassing. The show has become such a conglomeration of product placement that it's ridiculous. Very little in the way of tips and nutritional information anymore.
Until next time! Hope that will be in a few days or weeks instead of months!
UPDATE! - I didn't realize the ticker was dynamic, meaning it would update on this blog as my weight drops and I change it on my weight loss management page, which is my private way of tracking my progress and encouraging myself to keep going. I made one small change this week; I started drinking 4 cups of green tea a day, each sweetened with one ounce of orange juice. I just read a study that said mixing one ounce of unsweetened natural citrus juice with each cup of green tea greatly enhances the tea's fat-burning properties by allowing the release and activation of more of the tea's catechins. So I have lost 4 pounds nows, not just one. I'm down to 196 pounds, the lowest I've been in years. I hope this keeps working, and that I'm not just dreaming, but so far, so good. The ticker will continue to change as I keep losing weight.
But at least, unlike previous years, I weigh less this year than last. So my walking must be doing something. Even if I can't really see any visible changes, it seems to have kept the usual 7 to 10 pound yearly automatic weight gain from accumulating. So, instead of weighing 214 to 217 pounds this year, I weigh 199 pounds. That's good.
That's how I got to be so overweight, was the yearly creeping up on me of a few pounds here, a few pounds there. At least this year, I lost weight instead of gaining it.
Since I'm a visual person, I like to use little reminders that serve to keep me on track with my goals. I now have 54 pounds to go to reach my goal weight of 145 pounds. I got a free ticker that shows my progress. I started a few weeks ago at 200 pounds and the slider shows the one pound I have lost since then.
Here it is:
I'm kind of mulling over a new approach to this blog, but have to talk to Pigassus first.
Anyway, that's all for now. Top Chef Season 5 premiered last night and I was disappointed that, on first look at least, I didn't find anyone to root for. The Biggest Loser is wrapping up its 6th season and it's been a doozy, with some of the nastiest contestants ever. The producers seriously need to take this show back to its original inspirational format and stop selecting contestants who are mentally unstable and who exhibit vicious personalities on air. It's embarrassing. The show has become such a conglomeration of product placement that it's ridiculous. Very little in the way of tips and nutritional information anymore.
Until next time! Hope that will be in a few days or weeks instead of months!
UPDATE! - I didn't realize the ticker was dynamic, meaning it would update on this blog as my weight drops and I change it on my weight loss management page, which is my private way of tracking my progress and encouraging myself to keep going. I made one small change this week; I started drinking 4 cups of green tea a day, each sweetened with one ounce of orange juice. I just read a study that said mixing one ounce of unsweetened natural citrus juice with each cup of green tea greatly enhances the tea's fat-burning properties by allowing the release and activation of more of the tea's catechins. So I have lost 4 pounds nows, not just one. I'm down to 196 pounds, the lowest I've been in years. I hope this keeps working, and that I'm not just dreaming, but so far, so good. The ticker will continue to change as I keep losing weight.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Day 2 - Switching It Around
Today is the fruit day. I am supposed to have one serving of something called "low energy density" fruit every two hours. According to the experts, that is fruit that contains the highest possible volume of water, fiber and enzymes. The lower the numeric value, the higher the energy density.
The acceptable fruits listed in the article were:
Fruit Energy Density
Strawberries .2
Raspberries .3
Watermelon .3
Grapefruit .3
Canteloupe .4
Honeydew .4
Papaya .4
Peaches .4
Tangerines .4
Oranges .6
Apricots .5
Pineapple .5
Plums .6
Blueberries .6
Apples .6
I was curious about how these values were derived, so I went surfing around the Internet to find out. I particularly wanted to know because I eat a banana every day to help my blood pressure. I was already missing my daily bowl of raisin bran with the sliced banana on top; I really didn't want to go three days without a banana. If the energy density of bananas fell within the acceptable values, I could see no reason not to include it in my diet.
After much searching, and I do mean MUCH, I finally found the answer I needed on a website called myfooddiary.com. Here's the formula:
Energy Density = calories per serving divided by the weight of the serving in grams.
I went looking for the calories contained in a banana and found:
http://caloriecount.about.com
This is an absolutely great site. It allows you to easily track your calorie intake meal by meal, snack by snack and day by day. Not only does it have calorie counts for just about every food and beverage you can think of, raw or packaged, home or restaurant-prepared, but it also allows you to enter caloric and nutritional values for foods you consume in your own diet.
For example, I favor this particular brand of organic popcorn that I couldn't find in the caloriecount site, so I entered it. Now, whenever I put a serving of this very healthy snack into a snack category, its correct nutritional and caloric values pop right into my daily food profile.
Anyway, I soon discovered bananas have an energy density of .6, the same as many other fruits on the acceptable list. So I made a banana my first meal of the day, and an apple my second. But just like yesterday, by the time lunch rolled around, I was so hungry that's all I could think about. The plan calls for me to have another serving of fruit for lunch. I knew I would be horribly uncomfortable for the rest of the afternoon if I did that, so I decided to switch things up a bit and eat my dinner for lunch. Scientifically, this has actually been proven to be a much healthier way to eat. When you eat a larger meal later in the day, your digestive system doesn't have as much time to process the food as it would if you ate that same meal for lunch. Eating big meals in the evening can lead to a variety of digestive problems like acid reflux.
So, I ate my dinner at lunchtime. I also didn't eat a huge 6-cup salad like the plan called for. I ate a one cup serving of a very healthy casserole I prepared with onions, garlic, diced tomatoes, olive oil, grass-fed organic ground beef and brown rice.
I know, I know. All the things I'm not supposed to have on this diet plan...meat and carbs. But you know what? I feel satisfied and full. I will be able to get some work done this afternoon without the distraction of overwhelming hunger.
For the rest of the day, I'll do the fruit every two hours thing, then at dinner I'll eat a 2 cup salad, not 6 cups. I ended up throwing out about half the salad from last night because I simply couldn't eat that much food in one sitting. If there's one thing I hate more than being fat, it's wasting food. Now that I think of it, that's probably one of the reasons I am fat. In the past, when I thought something was going to waste, I ate it. Now, even though it hurts, if it can't be refrigerated for the next day, I just throw it out.
I know I have probably blown the whole thing. But I can't stick to a program that is making me feel physically weak and cranky. I did lose 2 pounds overnight, going from 204 down to 202, but I don't fool myself that it's a real or permanent weight loss.
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.
Planet Fat Cat
The acceptable fruits listed in the article were:
Fruit Energy Density
Strawberries .2
Raspberries .3
Watermelon .3
Grapefruit .3
Canteloupe .4
Honeydew .4
Papaya .4
Peaches .4
Tangerines .4
Oranges .6
Apricots .5
Pineapple .5
Plums .6
Blueberries .6
Apples .6
I was curious about how these values were derived, so I went surfing around the Internet to find out. I particularly wanted to know because I eat a banana every day to help my blood pressure. I was already missing my daily bowl of raisin bran with the sliced banana on top; I really didn't want to go three days without a banana. If the energy density of bananas fell within the acceptable values, I could see no reason not to include it in my diet.
After much searching, and I do mean MUCH, I finally found the answer I needed on a website called myfooddiary.com. Here's the formula:
Energy Density = calories per serving divided by the weight of the serving in grams.
I went looking for the calories contained in a banana and found:
http://caloriecount.about.com
This is an absolutely great site. It allows you to easily track your calorie intake meal by meal, snack by snack and day by day. Not only does it have calorie counts for just about every food and beverage you can think of, raw or packaged, home or restaurant-prepared, but it also allows you to enter caloric and nutritional values for foods you consume in your own diet.
For example, I favor this particular brand of organic popcorn that I couldn't find in the caloriecount site, so I entered it. Now, whenever I put a serving of this very healthy snack into a snack category, its correct nutritional and caloric values pop right into my daily food profile.
Anyway, I soon discovered bananas have an energy density of .6, the same as many other fruits on the acceptable list. So I made a banana my first meal of the day, and an apple my second. But just like yesterday, by the time lunch rolled around, I was so hungry that's all I could think about. The plan calls for me to have another serving of fruit for lunch. I knew I would be horribly uncomfortable for the rest of the afternoon if I did that, so I decided to switch things up a bit and eat my dinner for lunch. Scientifically, this has actually been proven to be a much healthier way to eat. When you eat a larger meal later in the day, your digestive system doesn't have as much time to process the food as it would if you ate that same meal for lunch. Eating big meals in the evening can lead to a variety of digestive problems like acid reflux.
So, I ate my dinner at lunchtime. I also didn't eat a huge 6-cup salad like the plan called for. I ate a one cup serving of a very healthy casserole I prepared with onions, garlic, diced tomatoes, olive oil, grass-fed organic ground beef and brown rice.
I know, I know. All the things I'm not supposed to have on this diet plan...meat and carbs. But you know what? I feel satisfied and full. I will be able to get some work done this afternoon without the distraction of overwhelming hunger.
For the rest of the day, I'll do the fruit every two hours thing, then at dinner I'll eat a 2 cup salad, not 6 cups. I ended up throwing out about half the salad from last night because I simply couldn't eat that much food in one sitting. If there's one thing I hate more than being fat, it's wasting food. Now that I think of it, that's probably one of the reasons I am fat. In the past, when I thought something was going to waste, I ate it. Now, even though it hurts, if it can't be refrigerated for the next day, I just throw it out.
I know I have probably blown the whole thing. But I can't stick to a program that is making me feel physically weak and cranky. I did lose 2 pounds overnight, going from 204 down to 202, but I don't fool myself that it's a real or permanent weight loss.
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.
Planet Fat Cat
Monday, August 4, 2008
The First Day of Many
So, today was the big day. I started on a new diet plan. It's from the June 30th, 2008 issue of First Magazine. The cover headline reads, "Lose 10 Pounds in 3 Days," which is mild for these magazines. I've seen magazine covers that say, "Lose 50 Pounds in 3 Minutes Just By Blinking Your Eyes!!!" But when you open them up, you either can't find the article or you discover that in order to achieve the suggested results, you also have to have gastric bypass surgery. And that 3 minutes? Turns out it was a typo. They really meant three years, you know, to give the surgery time to work. Plus, you have to give up proteins, carbs and fats. But you can chew sugarless gum.
The actual article I'm following is called, "Summer Fruit Breakthrough." It's not really that much of a breakthrough; I've been reading variations on this juice fast theme for years now. The first day, today, I have been drinking an 8 ounce protein shake made with Jay Robb's whey protein, every two hours. Then at dinner I was supposed to have a salad made with 6 cups of raw vegetables and 6 ounces of lean protein (I used sliced turkey) with a dressing made from 2 tablespoons of olive oil and the juice of one lemon.
Here's how the day went. As time progressed, I got hungrier and hungrier. And I don't mean normal hunger. I mean, "Oh, my God! Why did I ever decide to be a contestant on Survivor? I've been on the island 7 days without a single bite of solid food!" hunger. It literally gnawed at me from the inside out. I've never been on a diet that did that to me, but then again, I've never been on a diet that was almost all liquid almost all day.
By the time dinner rolled around, I was ready to gnaw the legs off my coffee table. I made the salad and dressing but here's a weird thing. I could only eat half of it. When I thought about it logically, six cups is a LOT of food. I think it would have been smarter to eat a 3 cup salad at lunch and then another 3 cup salad at dinner. But I am nothing if not obedient, so I dutifully tried to chow down the whole thing. I only made it about halfway through, and then two hours later was ravenously hungry again. But by that time, the salad was dead. If there's one thing I WILL NOT eat, it's a dead salad.
Conclusion? Even though I have stuck to the plan, I don't like this diet. I have been obsessed with thoughts of food all day long, to the extent that I didn't get much work done.
Tomorrow the plan changes to eating fruit every two hours, followed by another of those giant salads, but with no protein in the salad, just another of those watery, totally unsatisfying protein shakes. So for two days I will have virtually no protein except for that one lone 8 ounce shake.
At the end of the three days, I'll report my results, then go back to eating my normal diet. I don't expect to lose ten pounds, but I would be happy with two to three.
Next Monday, I'm trying a different three-day plan. Come back them for the details.
Planet Fat Cat
The actual article I'm following is called, "Summer Fruit Breakthrough." It's not really that much of a breakthrough; I've been reading variations on this juice fast theme for years now. The first day, today, I have been drinking an 8 ounce protein shake made with Jay Robb's whey protein, every two hours. Then at dinner I was supposed to have a salad made with 6 cups of raw vegetables and 6 ounces of lean protein (I used sliced turkey) with a dressing made from 2 tablespoons of olive oil and the juice of one lemon.
Here's how the day went. As time progressed, I got hungrier and hungrier. And I don't mean normal hunger. I mean, "Oh, my God! Why did I ever decide to be a contestant on Survivor? I've been on the island 7 days without a single bite of solid food!" hunger. It literally gnawed at me from the inside out. I've never been on a diet that did that to me, but then again, I've never been on a diet that was almost all liquid almost all day.
By the time dinner rolled around, I was ready to gnaw the legs off my coffee table. I made the salad and dressing but here's a weird thing. I could only eat half of it. When I thought about it logically, six cups is a LOT of food. I think it would have been smarter to eat a 3 cup salad at lunch and then another 3 cup salad at dinner. But I am nothing if not obedient, so I dutifully tried to chow down the whole thing. I only made it about halfway through, and then two hours later was ravenously hungry again. But by that time, the salad was dead. If there's one thing I WILL NOT eat, it's a dead salad.
Conclusion? Even though I have stuck to the plan, I don't like this diet. I have been obsessed with thoughts of food all day long, to the extent that I didn't get much work done.
Tomorrow the plan changes to eating fruit every two hours, followed by another of those giant salads, but with no protein in the salad, just another of those watery, totally unsatisfying protein shakes. So for two days I will have virtually no protein except for that one lone 8 ounce shake.
At the end of the three days, I'll report my results, then go back to eating my normal diet. I don't expect to lose ten pounds, but I would be happy with two to three.
Next Monday, I'm trying a different three-day plan. Come back them for the details.
Planet Fat Cat
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