It's Not the Same Thing

There is a difference between being "in control" and being "perfect."

Since my last blog post, I have been in control. I have not been perfect; but that is okay.

I have stayed within my calorie range all but two days since my last blog post. Those two days were Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. On those days, I made a conscious decision to enjoy food and drink with my family. I do not regret it.

I didn't pig out as heavily as I normally do during the holidays, but there's only so much you can manage with portion control when your meal consists of country ham, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, big fluffy biscuits, and sausage gravy. Oh, and orange juice to drink. Even with small portions, which I did observe, that was a lot of calories. And worth every bite.

Christmas day was not quite as bad, but we did go have Asian food, and I had wine that evening. It was a nice, relaxing holiday, and I feel good about jumping right back on track Monday morning. On Monday I ate right in the middle of my calorie range. So, like I said, I'm in control.

The Christmas holiday did mess up my workout schedule, but Ted and I plan on going to the gym in the morning and doing a good workout. I'm going to try to fit in some extra cardio this week to compensate for my two high calorie days.

It feels so good to be in charge of my body for a change.

Coming Together - Maybe

It feels like everything is starting to come together.

I know; you have all read this from me before. I'm working out hard, I'm getting my eating under control, blah blah blah, then bam, I'm back on here whining about eating too many damn cheeseburgers. Why should you think it's going to be any different this time?

Well, the truth is, you shouldn't. But I'm hoping to surprise you.

So what is different this time? Well, I had what alcoholics refer to as a "moment of clarity."

It came when I was browsing some friends' photos on the internet. There was a photo of a very fit, healthy, toned woman in one of the photos. In the comments, someone complimented her on what a lovely, lean, strong body she had (it wasn't as weird as it sounds here). The lady commented back that it wasn't easy; she had worked hard and made a lot of sacrifices for that body.

For some reason, that statement made something click. Sacrifices.

All this time, I've been thinking in terms of what I can and can't have. I can't have more calories than my calorie range allows. I can't have all those carbs. I can't have so much fat. Well, a bull-headed woman like me does not like to be told that she can't have or do anything. So something makes me rebel and say LIKE HELL I CAN'T JUST WATCH ME.

But I'll tell you what I can do. I can make conscious decisions to make a sacrifice to further my goal. I can choose to forego something I want. I can take a look at those fried pickles, or that piece of cake, or that pizza, and I can say to myself "If I want to eat that, I can eat it." And then I can remind myself that if I choose to skip it, that is X-number of calories that I do not have to burn off. And I can walk away.

I have gone back to tracking my calories on SparkPeople. Yesterday I stayed within my calorie range, even though I attended an awesome Winter Solstice Bonfire Party at the home of my good friend Gayle. I chose low calorie foods all day, had a piece of tilapia before I left so I wouldn't be starving, and while at the party I drank limited amounts of beer and wine. When I got home and logged the drinks from the party, I saw that I had succeeded. It was awesome.

I am well on the way toward having another successful day. I prepared a healthy breakfast and lunch, and have a light snack ready for when I need it. Dinner will be tilapia again, probably, this time with a side dish of a vegetable or some salad.

As for working out, Ted and I are still doing workouts at the gym. On some days we're doing the Workout of the Day (WoD) from zombiefit.org, and on other days we're doing the WoD from crossfit.com. They are great workouts, and really tough. I'm still having to modify for my knees and my foot, but I'm able to get a really good burn every time.

More soon.

Honesty

Time for some honesty.

I've been lying to myself and others for years now. I have consistently asserted that I want to lose weight "to be healthy," or "so I won't die at 48 like my dad did." I've been saying that for so long, that it's just my automatic canned response now.

But you know what? It's a lie.

The truth is that at my current weight, my life expectancy is reduced by about three years. When I'm faced with the choice between eating a baked chicken breast with steamed green beans for dinner and ordering a pizza, those three years don't seem very important. Honestly, I'll probably be suffering from dementia long before I approach those years (family history, both maternal and paternal), so truly, dying three years sooner would be a gift to those who are stuck taking care of me.

Depressing? Yes. But hey, the truth is the truth. You should know that with a title like "Honesty," anything I write will be dreadful.

So you want to know, honestly, why I want to lose weight?

I want to be pretty. Pretty all over, not just that girl who has a pretty face, too bad she's so fat. I want to look sexy in cute clothes. I want to be attractive in a bikini. I want to be that lady you stare at while she's working out, thinking "damn, look at those muscles!"

I want my daughter to be proud of me when we go places. I want her to be proud of the progress I've made.

I have the most wonderful, kind, loving, precious partner in the world. He deserves a sexy girlfriend. He loves his dumpy girlfriend; but he deserves to have a girlfriend who makes him proud. I want to be her.

It is all superficial. Every bit of it.

So there. That's the truth. I don't really care all that much about my long-term health. I really just want to be attractive. If that makes my weight loss goals less valid, then so be it.

So Close to Quitting

I am so thankful to have a supportive partner.

Today I had a blog post all cooked up in my head about how I was going to just give up. Quit. Throw in the towel. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.

I was going to say that I've been at this since February, and not just half-assed at it, but really working myself to death at boot camp, and all I have to show for it are knees that hurt worse than ever and newly-developed plantar fasciitis. I have lost no weight; I have lost only one clothing size, and that was in the very beginning. I look exactly how I looked when I started, and I am tired, worn down, and just sick to fucking death of killing myself for no results. I can't get my eating under control because I'm like that old drunk who just keeps drinking until he dies. Why doesn't he stop? Because he will never love himself more than he loves alcohol. And that is my relationship with food. Sorry, folks, but I am always going to be fat. I am probably going to die young of a preventable disease because I refuse to change my habits. So I quit. I just fucking goddamn quit.

Then Ted said that he could see a difference. He could feel a difference. I am making progress. And he gave me a kiss and a hug that told me that he means it. And I took the top piece of bread off my Egg McMuffin to cut the carb count in half, and everything was better again.

I'm still very, very frustrated that the weather is cooling down and I can't run. I want to get back out there and do at least some short runs; some drills; something. But I really can't. My foot is a genuine showstopper. I'm still very, very frustrated that I can't do so many exercises properly because of my knee pain. And I'm still very, very frustrated that I can't get my eating right. But I'm no longer ready to give up. I'm going to keep trying, and probably keep failing. But hopefully my failures will become less severe over time. Hopefully I'll get stronger and more resolved. Hopefully, everything will eventually come together.

I'm not going to be in a size 8 by my birthday. But I am going to be healthier by my birthday, and I will be closer to having my shit together.

I'm hoping to be funny again one day, too. Sorry my posts have been so heavy lately. This too shall pass.

Small Town Awesomeness

Last night Ted and I spent the day visiting my family in smalltown Kentucky. We ended the evening with a date to the Wingfield Volunteer Fire Department's Hayride and Haunted House. We've been to a few of the haunted venues around here in Nashville, but this one has quite a reputation in my hometown, so we decided to give it a shot, and support the VFD in the process.

Well, let me tell you, they did not disappoint. Let me preface my review with the explanation that I won't call any haunted house attractions "scary," because to me there is a big difference between being scared and being startled and entertained. But having lots of good startles and entertainment is what makes a good haunted house, in my opinion.

There were not only lots of awesome startles in Wingfield VFD's haunted house, they were also beautifully executed! Their haunted house is considerably lower budget than the big Nashville attractions (it's small town, and a fundraiser, so yeah; they need to be frugal), but what they lacked in special effects and construction, they made up for in enthusiasm and strategy. For example, in one room there were several mannequin heads, made up to look like severed people-heads, but they were obviously plastic. So, no real scare there, right? Just a cheap setup. Until the one on the end, that TOTALLY LOOKED LIKE A MANNEQUIN HEAD, jumps out and screams at you. Dude, that was the coolest lull-you-into-a-false-comfort startle EVER. The live girl's makeup was flawless, and unless you were expecting her, you honestly would have overlooked her as another plastic head. It was a thing of beauty.

There were a lot of other great misdirection startles as well. You walk into a room, see an obvious person ready to jump out to scare you, and POW! Someone comes from a completely different area and startles the living bejesus out of you. I can't say enough about how strategic and well executed this haunted house is.

And even with the limited budget, the special effects were awesome. There was a spinning vortex room that was every bit as dizzying as the one at the high-budget Devil's Dungeon in Nashville. There were lots of loud power tools and sparkly things and unexpected booms; it really was a fun time!

And all this is on top of a fun and whimsical old-fashioned tractor pulled hayride to and from the site. The hayride itself isn't spooked; it's just an opportunity to chat with your fellow haunted house fans as you get to and from the attraction. I haven't been to anything like this in Nashville. It's truly a smalltown charm that is worth the 1 1/2 hour drive to experience.

The Wingfield VFD's Hayride and Haunted House is only $10 for adults, and $5 for kids 12 and under. There is food available for purchase at the firehouse, so get there early and have a chili dog with homemade chili and home-canned hot relish. You should also bring extra cash for tee shirts. I didn't, but I wish I had.

It's a good cause to support and a great attraction. Make the trip and see it. Just be sure to pee before you climb onto the hay. You don't want to pee yourself the first time a misdirection takes you by surprise.

Haunted House Review: Devil's Dungeon

Me: I'm going to write a review for Devil's Dungeon on my blog.

Julia: Be sure to talk about the poop.

So Ted, Julia, Julia's friends Brandon and Dan, and I all went to the Devil's Dungeon haunted house on Friday night. It was a blast.

Devil's Dungeon advertises as "The most controversial haunted house in Nashville!" I suppose it is controversial, if you don't understand what a haunted house is.

As far as entertainment haunts go, though, DD is a very good one. The scenes are creative, the actors are enthusiastic and seem to be having a lot of fun, and there are enough good startles to keep your heartrate up and have you nervous about going around the next corner. There are several startling loud noises, which certainly achieve the objective, but a couple of them lasted a bit long for my taste. I'm not a big fan of deafening noises that will not end.

I'm not going to describe the scenes inside, because I don't want to ruin any surprises for anyone who might want to go, but I will tell you that there are a couple of scenarios that are not for the squeamish. If you are easily offended or unable to understand that it's all pretend and not to be taken seriously, you probably shouldn't go.

I will say that one of the last parts of the house is the maze. The maze seems extremely frustrating at first, but I'll give you a hint. Look at Gumby's shoes. You'll see that it might not be as bad as it seems...

Are you still wondering about the poop comment?

One of the scenes includes a girl locked in a cage, begging you to let her out. She will talk to you (presumably because she is starved for human interaction, being a prisoner in a dungeon and all). Julia was talking to her, and ended the conversation with (paraphrased) "Well, I'd like to stay and try to get you free, but I need to go. I really have to poop."

I'm Angry

So tell me, if you knew that someone had just started Alcoholics Anonymous and was in the very difficult first stage of detox, would you crack open a beer in front of them and make a huge deal about how delicious and refreshing it was? Would you hold it under their nose and say things like "Wouldn't you like to have a sip? HAHA! Too bad you can't, because you have lack of control and can't drink in moderation! Loser!"

If you said that yes, you would do that, then you are an incredible asshole and you do not deserve to take up space on this earth with decent human beings. Please go find the other assholes and play a game of hide-and-go-fuckyourself.

I'm guessing that few, if any, of you said that you would behave in that manner. So why is it that people think it is cute and funny to behave that way toward someone who has issues with food?

I am trying very, very hard to improve my eating habits. I make bad decisions with food; I eat things that I know are counter to my goals. I even eat things that I know are going to cause me pain. I don't do these things because I'm stupid (I'm not), or even because I lack self-control (I don't). I do these things because I have an addiction, and it is as real and as severe an addiction as one to alcohol or drugs.

So why is it funny to taunt me when someone brings donuts to the office? Why is it funny to rave about how "I think I'd eat a piece of this cake even if I were on a diet, because it's soooo delicious"? Why is it such a hoot to see me struggle to stay at my desk and not get up and slice off a piece of that cake? Why don't you just shut the fuck up and eat your goddamn cake?

I haven't made any progress with the Christmas Dress Challenge. I finally got the motivation to make a plan, and stick to it. I have my day all planned out, and a donut or a piece of pound cake doesn't fit into that plan. So stop trying to get me to eat a piece. I already want to eat a piece. I would step on your face to get to that cake. But I cannot have a piece. My health is more important than that delicious cake. So back the fuck off.

And thus endeth the rant against mine enemy.

Once I make some progress on the challenge, I'll post again. Progress is going to be made soon. Because I am awesome and I am going to beat this thing.