Category Archives: weight watchers weekly

weight watchers weekly – week 15 (right?)

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So…I went and weighed. It was bad. I should never skip a week. No matter what. Not having a scale at home, I have no way to make sure things are okay if I don’t go to get weighed. And, had I been weighed last week, I think the reality would’ve hit hard enough that what happened would not have happened.

I gained weight. A surprising amount…although I will add that normally I go to weigh in after eating very little during the day and running 4-5 miles. On top of which (ready for the over-share?) I’m totally PMS-ing, so I’m retaining water. Not that much, but some. And normally, I’m wearing my workout clothes and not regular clothes. Anyway, I’m not going to put how much I gained. I can’t really deal with it. And the woman at WWs told me she was not going to total it because she knew it was just a bad couple of weeks.

The truth is, I think I’m in a bit of a funk. I’m not meaning to make excuses for myself, but you know when one thing isn’t working in your life, then another thing stops working and it just keeps going down. That’s where I’m at. I haven’t been running. I’ve been eating junk. Eating junk has made me feel like crap. When I feel like crap I don’t want to exercise and I want to eat more junk. The problem is that, rather than accept that this is bound to happen from time to time and realizing that I need to just take it one day at a time, I keep promising myself that I’ll do better, that I won’t have another bad week. I have to just focus on one day, otherwise, the second I’ve gone over my points one day, I just stop caring about the entire week.

Yesterday was okay. My sisters are both in town, which makes things a bit hard. Both of their birthdays fall in September, so we’ve been doing lots of eating. I have already used my flex points for the week and I went over a bit today. I have to just be okay with that. And, because last night’s meal was so late, I still felt full this morning (I hate that feeling) and so I didn’t end up going on my run. I know I will fit it in this week, but I’m very frustrated.

I have made such amazing progress and I was so sad, disappointed and angry when I got on the scale. It was not a surprise. I know what I’ve been eating. What I don’t understand is why, when I know what I want, and eating junk makes me feel like crap, I still do it. I’m extremely frustrated. It will probably take me until the marathon (about three weeks) to get back to where I was, as far as my weight is concerned, two weeks ago.

The good news. I paid for another ten weeks. While I am frustrated and really, really struggling against the desire to feed my sorrow with Ben and Jerry’s, I am still in this for the long haul. While I haven’t been perfect, I have written everything down so far this week. And I have asked a friend for help.

At this point, there are five of us at my job who are actively (getting weighed and attending meetings) participating in WWs and two who are lifetime members. On Friday, I told one of these women that I was going to need some help. She just started and is super enthusiastic (I remember being there) and said she would be happy to do anything. We’ve come up with a few things and I am feeling good about having the support.

I’m going out of town next weekend, which is making me a bit nervous, since most of my meals will be eaten out. I did purchase WWs’ “Dining Out Food Guide”, which has been a big help. I am also going to get the complete food guide. The internet is an amazing resource, but it’s not so helpful when you don’t have a computer right in front of you.

This journey has become really hard, but I am determined to make it, even if it takes me three years to get to my goal. And, while I gained a bit of weight, I’m still way better off than I was three months ago, right? Right.

At some point, I will share how much I gained, but right now, it’s just a bit too painful…and really, I am not exaggerating. If it were minor, I would post the amount. For those of you out there who have been so impressed with how well I’ve done and who have told me (in person or via email) that you wish you had my willpower, the truth is, we all have our moments of weakness, those moments when it just seems way to hard. I feel lucky that it took me 13 weeks before I hit it and I am hopeful that a renewed commitment is coming. The truth is, it’s not totally there right now. Oh, the pains of addiction.

Having never tried to do this the right way, I didn’t understand just how hard it was going to be.

weight watchers weekly – week 14

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Here’s the thing. As you all know, I did really well last week. With all of the stress of studying and my total dedication to running, I managed to just count my points and do my thing which resulted in a 1.2 lb loss. But then, something happened.

At first, I thought it was just about my little brother and family being in town, however, as the week wore on, and said little brother, wife and baby left, I realized there was something else going on. I just couldn’t get my eating back on track. First it was the pre-GMAT supper, then the post-GMAT celebration. After that, Sunday happened and we had family dinner with my aunt, cousins and grandmother. Then it was Labor Day and Justin, Cherity and Tannon’s last day in town, which made eating out a requirement. Tuesday was the first day of the semester (an overwhelmingly crazy day at work), so I rewarded myself with dinner and ice-cream. And then I ran out of excuses…other than the week was already shot, so why not live it up? Which is how Panda Express and two scoops of ice cream happened on Wednesday. And today, well, I’m not sure what the deal was today. Maybe the knowledge that I wasn’t going to go to my meeting. Maybe it was knowing that I would be back on track tomorrow. In any case, today was quite the day, as well. Why must I love ice cream so very, very much?

I missed my meeting tonight because I had somewhere else I needed to be…and I’m out of money and I need to pay to be weighed. Torture upon torture. As expected, Jenny called and left a message (as I was indisposed) to find out how the meeting had gone (a conversation that I eagerly anticipate every week). So after I was done with my evening and on my way home, I called her back and told her that I hadn’t gone. As I was recounting the indulgences of my week, I came to an interesting realization…and that is why I love good friends and good conversation. It is often in moments of confiding in one’s friends that clarity comes.

Here’s the realization. Last week I dropped below THE weight. Now, this is not a weight that is significant to anyone but me…but in my world, it is a beast to be reckoned with. My whole life, there has been a magic number where my body really, really likes to reside. I hate that number, but it is comfortable. I know how to be that weight. I know I’ve talked about knowing how to be fat and the fear of being something different, but it is that weight, that number, that really embodies my fears. I have never maintained a weight below that one. I have been thinner, for sure, up to 25 lbs thinner, but it is always short lived.

I am scared. And while stress rarely induces eating, fear almost always does. And the fear of failure is probably the biggest fear that exists chez moi. I am terrified of failure. This fear has paralyzed me at different points in my life; it has kept me “safe” for many, many years. This year has been my year of staring fear in the face and telling it to eff-off. Yes, that’s how strongly I feel about it…which is why it took so long for me to realize what was going on.

If I were to stop the weight loss journey now, I know I could maintain this weight. There’s very little risk. Sure, I could gain weight, but chances are slim with as much as I exercise. But, if I continue on this path, then failure is a possibility. A very, very real possibility. And I cannot fail this time around. My entire year has been about success. I stared down my fear of being alone and called off my wedding. I decided once and for all that I was going to run a marathon, and I’m doing it. And, while I know I’m not in grad school just yet, I finally let go of my fear of it. I know this may all sound crazy, but as one who revels in the safety of certain success, I just don’t do things where failure is a possibility.

Epiphany! As I write! I have always succeeded at losing weight because I make that my goal and I know I will do it because that’s what I do…achieve my goals. I have never thought to make keeping weight off my goal. Something to think about.

Back to my point. I am scared of losing more weight than I have lost. It ties in to my fear of not being fat, but it’s a bit different. I still fear a world where I feel average in the weight department. I don’t know what it will be like. I won’t have the “filter” of my body. You see, all you beautiful, thin people out there, there’s something you don’t realize about those of us who aren’t so blessed…at least in my mind (I realize that not everyone shares my opinion on this one). We rarely have to worry about someone being after us for our bodies…well, unless that’s we’re the type they are attracted to, but I have yet to encounter one of those. Sure, people find us attractive, but it’s not usually the source of the initial attraction. I hope you are all reading this the way it’s meant. I do not mean that someone has to “overlook” my body to find me attractive, just that my body is not what is going to make someone interested in me. Does that make sense?

Anyway, I have a fear of losing the “filter”. I like knowing that when a guy is interested in me, it’s about me and not the way I look. But what I am afraid of right now is losing the weight…and then finding it again. And you know when hindsight is 20/20 and all of the pieces fall into place. That’s what happened during my conversation with Jenny tonight. My eating and lack of exercise this week (minus running 18 miles on Monday) didn’t stem from celebration or stress. The culprit was fear…fear of failure.

And knowledge begets choices. I can quit and be content to be the me I’ve always been. Or I can keep going, knowing that I am heading into uncharted territory, knowing that I have never been thinner than I am today without some kind of eating-disorder-induced weight loss.

Of course, you know what my answer is. I must keep going. I must sit with my fear and move on. This journey has been an absolutely amazing process so far. I have lost 25 lbs (well, perhaps a little less than that as of today, but since I no longer have a scale, I’m not sure), but more importantly, I have found myself, and my insecurities and fears and, like the Easter egg hidden so well it is only noticed once it begins to rot, I believe that fears and insecurities cannot be discarded until they are discovered.

I had no idea when I began Weight Watchers 14 weeks ago what I was in for. I thought that I would lose weight and finally do it in a physically healthy way. Had I realized the emotional ramifications at the time, I’m sure I would have managed a way to feign happiness with my weight in order to avoid the struggle. While physical pain has never bothered me much, I will avoid emotional pain at almost any cost. But it’s a little late for that. I am on the road and removing myself, at this point, just wouldn’t make much sense. My innocence has been lost and it cannot be regained.

And with that…GAME ON!

weight watchers weekly – week 13

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Apparently, the key was to not have a scale. I cannot even explain to you how hard it was. I mean, I guess it wasn’t hard because the scale just wasn’t there (and as of yesterday, it moved from the trunk of my car to the storage unit), but every morning, without fail, I turned to weigh myself. In fact, I think today was the first morning that I didn’t. It’s amazing how those addictions live in us.

I had a pretty good week. I used all of my flex points (you get 35 per week to use however you’d like) on Saturday, so that meant I had to be pretty careful the rest of the week. And because I’ve lost so much, I get two less points than I used to get. I had a couple of days where I went over my points. The only thing that saves me is how much I exercise, and because my class is now over, I got in all of my runs this week (well, except for the 18 miler which is how I’ll be spending my Labor Day morning).

Anyway, all in all, it was a good week, especially considering that I had a couple of difficult social situations…well, the social part was fine, it was the food that made it hard. But, I’m learning how to do the social stuff now. And, without a scale, I have no way of justifying eating a little more, and no reason to starve myself. Even though it was hard to get used to, I’m so glad I got rid of it.

My brain is pretty fried right now, so I will just get to the good stuff. I lost 1.6 lbs, for a total of 25.2 lbs in 13 weeks! Yay! Such an accomplishment. I promised myself when I started this whole thing that I was in this for the long haul, to get control of my emotional eating, to be healthy. I feel like I’m back on track.

weight watchers weekly – week 12

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*This is a long one. So, for those of you (including my little brother) who wish to “cut to the chase”, the weight total is at the bottom of this post.

Sanity has returned.

It’s amazing how quickly life (or part of it) can spin completely out of control. For me, as you all know from last week, it was my weight…well, not my weight, per se, but my obsession with my weight.

When I started Weight Watchers it was because I was finally ready to do this, lose weight, the right way, the healthy way. I didn’t want to ever end up in that yucky, ugly place again. You know, the Land of Eating Disorders, the Land of the Emotionally Screwed Up, the Land of Starvation. Take your pick…it’s all the same place. In that land, you weigh yourself every day, least twice a day. Sometimes three times. In that land, any time you “slip up” you have to beat yourself, internally or otherwise, over and over and over again. Sometimes the beating involves popping laxatives, sometimes throwing up, sometimes just thinking mean and ugly things about yourself. This a land where you are never happy. Not ever. You may appear happy. You may have moments of laughter and smiles. But the joy of a true life, a life ruled by honesty and integrity, never comes.

You would think the steady decline of the numbers on the scale would do it. And yes, there is this kind of euphoric feeling when you get on the scale and the number is lower, or when you go shopping and fit into a smaller size, but this feeling is ephemeral. I imagine it is a feeling akin to that experienced from a hit of some illicit drug. The problem is, like the high experienced from a drug, without another hit on the horizon, you are left in a state of withdrawal.

Well, no matter what you are doing to your body, it can only lose so much weight. Even starving it will only result in weight loss for so long. And like the addict who requires higher doses to experience the high, the more weight you lose, the more you need to lose to regain euphoria. Eventually, either one will kill you if they are left unchecked.

While I have no desire (in my lucid moments) to return to the Land of Starvation, somehow I found myself on the journey in that direction last week. You all know that I managed to stop in my tracks…but it was enough to really scare me.

Over the last week, I have though often about what it was that put me on that path. If I am going to stay away from that land, I need to figure these things out. I have had all of these little ideas, but I think I might have nailed down one sure thing that sends me into a tailspin. It’s my scale. When I started having “bad “days (days when I wasn’t tracking and knew I’d gone over my points), I started getting on the scale in the morning to make sure that I hadn’t gained weight. If I had, those feelings of inadequacy, of lacking control, of, well really, self-loathing (remember when I was so excited because self-loathing didn’t come when I gained .8 lbs that one week?) would immediately follow. If I hadn’t, I would think that I could get away with what I was doing.

But weight is a funny and fickle beast. It doesn’t react immediately. At least not chez moi. I could eat a whole pizza one day and not “feel” it for four. There’s a reason that Weight Watchers tells you outright that when you are trying to lose weight, you should only weigh yourself once a week. I really think, after much reflection, that the lack of weighing myself in the early weeks of my journey was a big part of my success…and my sanity.

Tonight’s lesson (yes, I weighed in and went to the meeting) was about the journey…patience and perseverance. Those of you who know me know that patience is a virtue that I do not possess. When I want something to happen, I want it to happen yesterday. Well, that’s just not the way it works with weight loss, or anything worth doing, for that matter.

I wish I could explain to you how helpful the meetings really are. There’s a certain camaraderie that exists when you have this group of people who come together for a common goal. It’s funny, working in a counseling center, I often admire the people in group therapy while simultaneously thinking, “I could never do that.” And I’m not going to say that WW is group therapy, but it is definitely a support group, and I love it. I love sharing. I love people sharing with me. Maybe I could do group therapy.

Our meeting leader asked us tonight to think of one thing, just one, that we were going to do to feel successful this week. Since I had already committed to meticulous tracking this week (which I did), I decided that I was going to give up my scale. Put it away…where it can’t tempt me or call to me. (Have you noticed how many inanimate objects speak to me?) That’s it. I have weighed myself twice a day every day this last week. Thankfully, I managed to get myself in the mind frame that, no matter what the scale said, I was going to just stick to my points and follow the program.

While that worked this week, I sat there today asking myself why it was that I felt being a masochist was necessary; why I felt that I deserved the kind of torture involved with daily (bi-daily, for that matter) weigh-ins. If I’m going to follow the program, regardless of what the scale says from day to day, why do I need to know what the scale says?

So, I am standing up right now to go bury the scale in the depths of my closet. While the room under the roof where I live is pretty small, the closet is not…but it is awkward, with a slanted ceiling, which means to get to the depths I have to crawl. I think that should do the trick.

…

Wow…that was hard. I feel like an alcoholic who just dumped out the last of my stash. Except that I didn’t. I still have the stash. It’s just stashed better. Okay…I’m feeling like I need to do more. My heart is racing. That is sad. A woman tonight, after I said that I was going to give up my scale, said that she started to feel anxious just at the thought of it. That’s how I’m feeling now. It’s one thing to put my scale in the closet, but to get rid of it entirely. I don’t know if I can do it. I’m thinking that’s what I need to do. If I am really going to learn how to eat and kill this demon (or at least domesticate him), that’s what I need to do.

This is how things happen in my life. To get a little spiritual on you (something I don’t do very often via the internet), this is exactly how the Lord works in my life. Unfortunately, because the good things are often the hard things and the hard things are often the scary things…these epiphanies (aka “promptings”) often involve varying levels of nausea and anxiety. Excuse me while I put my scale in the trunk of my car (and vomit). And then tomorrow, Madame Scale is heading into the storage unit where she will remain until I’m ready to maintain.

…

I’m scared and excited all at the same time. I think this is another step on the path to freedom from the crazies that live in my head.

Oh…and I lost .6 lbs, for a total of 23.6 lbs. I have nothing negative to say about it. I’m not disappointed. I’m not super excited. I just feel good. And healthy. And happy. It’s been a good week.

weight watchers weekly – week 11

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So, I know this is a bit delayed, but I’ve had lots going on. In any case, here we are, 11 weeks into this, and I have hit a wall. Things have been so good and I really and truly believed that I was not going to struggle with eating disorder issues anymore. But then I had a couple of not great weeks. I still lost 1 lb over those two weeks, but I definitely wasn’t eating what I should have been eating. And that’s when things began to get hard emotionally. I had some pretty high expectations for last week. I was ready to recommit. That was the plan.

The thing is, when planning, sometimes I think only about what I want and not what is realistic. Realistically, losing weight last week would have been extremely difficult. I was going to be traveling, I had two other dinners planned with friends on top of the trip. And once things started to go downhill, I just lost all control, which is a weird form of control in and of itself. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true. I get to this place (and it’s been a while, which is why this week was so hard for me) where I basically say “eff you” to my body and my lame-o metabolism. I think, “Fine, if you’re not going to cooperate, I’m not going to cooperate.”

Since my food intake and exercise levels are totally within my control, whereas my metabolism, body shape, etc. are not (not totally, anyway), I have two ways of taking control. One is to not eat and exercise obsessively. The other is to eat everything in sight and stop exercising. Both are unhealthy. Both end with me being miserable, either because I can’t maintain the one and end up gaining back anything I lose, or because I gain weight and feel horrible about how lazy I am.

Well, I was out of control in D.C. I won’t go into the gory details, but the worst part was at the airport on the way home. I had two hours to sit there, and all kinds of food options. I wish I could describe to those of you who have never struggled with this what it feels like to think about food constantly; to think about what you should eat, what you shouldn’t it, what you already ate, what you are going to eat. It is miserable. And the worst part is, I am aware of what’s going on. I am aware that it’s not healthy. I am aware that I am not really hungry. I am aware that I am going to be really angry at myself after I make certain choices. I know all of this, and yet, when I get to a certain point, I just can’t stop.

So, there was some serious binge eating going on. Thankfully, there was no purging, laxatives or otherwise, but I still felt miserable. I got home and thought, “Okay, tomorrow will be better.” But I hadn’t forgiven myself. I was still so mad that I had lost control. So while it’s nice to think, “tomorrow will be better”, if you can’t let go of yesterday or today, you can’t really get to tomorrow. Tomorrow was not better. And then it was Wednesday morning.

I was not in a good place. My week had been so busy that I had yet to run even once, which only adds to the depressed feelings. While I don’t necessarily love to run (and sometimes I really and truly hate it), I definitely like the endorphins. I woke up Wednesday morning (after choosing to snooze my alarm and not run, once again) and decided that, since I couldn’t handle going to my meeting having not lost any weight, I needed to just starve myself Wednesday and Thursday.

Thankfully, I am healthy enough now (emotionally) that I let that thought sit for about a minute before deciding that I did not really want to do that. And that is when I decided that, if going to my meeting was going to cause me this much stress, that I did not need to go. And that is how I ended up not going to my meeting.

I weighed myself, so I know where I’m at (on my scale) and I gained about 3 lbs. While I’m not fine with that, I have been working on forgiving myself so that I can move on and so far (you know, yesterday), this week has been better.

I have figured a few things out. I realized that I really do have to calculate everything I eat into points and do it realistically and then write it down. Part of what I was doing was overestimating point values. I know that sounds weird. Most people underestimate. However, when I don’t know a point value, I just guestimate and I want to be safe, so I overshoot. Well, then I know that I’ve overshot, so I allow myself to fudge a little here and there. And, apparently, the “here and there” add up to more than the overestimations. Seriously, don’t try and understand why my head works the way it does. I’ve lived with myself for 29 years and still don’t get it. But, at least I’ve learned how it works, so I can manage it.

I am feeling pretty good. It was a good reminder that, really, eating disorders never do leave you. I think, after 8 weeks, I was lulled into this sense of security. The truth is, I will probably be fighting this battle the rest of my life. And I’m okay with that. It’s better than lots of other things lots of other people have to deal with. I just need to remember that such is the case. It’s in the moments when I feel so strong that I am the most vulnerable, because it is in those moments that I forget how hard I have had to work to get to where I am.

So, as for weight loss, it didn’t happen this week, but I am choosing to not make that official, because I can do that.