I am 19 days into my latest effort to lose weight and I am happy to say I am down 13lbs ..Woot Woot! (only 27 more to go!) Well, let me qualify that, I had set a goal at the low end of my ideal weight range (thus the 40lb goal) but as each day goes by I find myself rethinking that thought. Maybe I'll go for the high end of my ideal weight range...that way there is only 7 more to go! Believe me, the way I am feeling today, 7 sounds much more appealing! Sometimes to survive "dieting", you have to wheel and deal your way through it!
This time around I have decided to give Aitkin's a try. You know the one, high Protein/low Carbs... I've done fairly well for myself. Over the past 21/2 weeks, I have been able to change my diet enough to find a modicum of success. Though tonight I have to admit, since day 15 I have been dying for a slice of double cheese pizza...Ok, who am I kidding, I don't want "a slice", I want the whole pie! Unfortunately, that's way too many carbs for me to even "cheat" a little. Sigh...(heavy sigh)...So as I sit here struggling with the desire to eat as many carbs as I can get my hands on and trying to do so within the limitations of the "diet" (the cup of raspberries, though my favorite, didn't help) I find myself feeling the familiar tug of resentment that inevitably comes with each "diet" I undertake.
We all know to be successful in achieving and maintaining weight loss, dieting is not the way to go. Instead, you need make a "life style change". You know, healthy eating, exercise, blah, blah, blah. Now I don't mean to diminish the need to do just that, it's just not as easy as one might think. For one thing, healthy eating contains a lot of vegetables...did I mention how much I hate vegetables? Heck, I'm even deathly allergic to broccoli! Then there is the exercise, exercise is great with the exception of the sweating part...I hate to sweat! So going into that "life style change", immediately starts with the thought, "I am going to hate this!" After all, how many green beans and carrots can one eat?
I do realize going into a "lifestyle change" with that thought in mind is self-defeating, but I promise you, telling myself I am going to enjoy it, just doesn't work! I am three weeks into this "diet plan", because I choose a diet that actually minimizes the number of veggies I have to eat. It was a calculated choice in an effort to" trick" myself into "hope". The Aitkins diet at least allows me to enjoy a good steak and eat cheese (though due to carbs, have to measure my daily in-take) while limiting the number of veggies I can eat! The first two weeks were actually easy for me, thus I am hopeful to make it to my goal. Though I have to admit, in week three, it's getting old fast!! So as I sit here struggling to stay positive, I started to think about what had put me on the weigh-loss rollercoaster for the majority of my life...What was the catalyst that had placed me on this particular projectory that over took my life?
As a young child, I was referred to as "the pretty one", due to my large blue eyes, tow-head blonde hair and petite stature. I craved the compliments from strangers and attention from relatives that fed the "ego" of a little girl who loved feeling special because sometimes she felt a little left out as the youngest of three. It felt good to hear people say "you're a pretty little thing"...it fueled my soul in a way that gave me confidence in who I was. I spent a lot of time looking in the mirror (I still do..what can I say, some habits are hard to break), in an effort to confirm that "the pretty" was still there. I loved the attention my looks got me because they put me front and center (remember, youngest of three).
Unfortunately, at the age of 6, the attention I got for my looks (which had become fuel for my confidence) became toxic. It bought attention that changed me, changed how I looked at men and how I looked at myself. I still looked in the mirror and the face I saw was that of a pretty little girl, but deep inside of me, I didn't recognize her. Somehow I had been changed, and it was frightening. I didn't know what had changed, I still looked the same to everyone else, yet I knew I was no longer pretty. The problem was no one else knew it. All my 6 year old mind knew was "pretty" was no longer the best thing to be, yet I loved being pretty. I was struggling with the dichotomy that had been created and yet was too young to handle the feelings of guilt, fear, doubt and failure. I loved being "pretty" yet "pretty" had hurt me...how does one so young do anything but feel hurt, feel sad and feel bad about themselves? So even at such a tender young age I instinctively found a way to protect myself...I began to eat.
By the age of 7, I was no longer referred to as "the pretty one", but instead I was called "the chubby one". Imagine what that would do to one who's self-identity was tied to being "pretty" and suddenly the attention my looks drew had changed. The positive love and light that came with "pretty" suddenly turned dark and lonely in the negativity of "chubby". The more people made fun of me, the more I ate, simply because the food (specifically carbs) made me feel numb. Believe me, numb felt good compared to the painful secret I carried inside compounded by the daily pain of being bullied. So I continued to eat away my pain.
Now my mother saw what I was doing, but couldn't stop me, because she couldn't stop herself. You see my mother had a weigh problem too. I didn't realize that my tendency to "eat away the pain" was a learned response from watching my mother. She too struggled with her own pain, her own issues, and somehow in my "little girl mind" I saw that she was happier after eating a piece of cake, or a few cookies. I didn't realize it was a double edged sword that cut the pain out for a time, but inflicted more due to the weight gain that came with it.
One day I came home from a friends house crying. When my mother finally got me to tell her what was wrong, I told her the kids were making fun of me because "my Mother was fat and I was too". I immediately saw a look of hurt and then shame cross her face and she hugged me, telling me she "wouldn't let me get fat like her" (the thought of that conversation still breaks my heart...) That conversation was the spark that led to my "going on a Diet", my first. Unfortunately, the first of many....
I'll never forget walking up the long thin stairway with my mother (and I believe my sister too though I could be mixing up the memory of yet another diet) to the second floor meeting of my first Weight Watcher's Meeting. I had no idea what to expect other than my Mom had told me to sit quietly and listen. As we walked through the door I remember feeling a bit of panic as I realized that I was by far the youngest in the room! There were no other children, instead I was surrounded by a room full of "fat" old ladies! I was instantly mortified because once again, this was something that made me different, and again, not in a good way. I suddenly realized, if I was here, what everyone was saying must be true, I was the "fat kid"! As we sat through that first meeting, I looked out the window and wished I could be anyone else but me. In that hour as I looked around the room, I saw who I was going to be, who others thought I was, and I felt a sense of hopelessness. It was one of the longest hours of my life!
My Mother threw us into the "diet" with all the hope and "will power" she could muster. I had no idea what "will power" was, I just knew when my mother caught me sneaking a cookie, that I 'didn't have any". Making me feel that I was a failure, even though I wasn't quiet sure what I had failed at...lol That cookie was my only fall from "grace" that week and thus there was much excitement as we all made our way up that long stair case to our first "weigh in". Mom went first as she stepped on the scale, the woman smiled and said "Congratulations, you lost 7lbs!" , then my sister, just 17 months older than I, stepped up and I heard "Congratulations, 9lbs, great job!"...I was so excited to receive the same accolades, sure that I had done just as well...As I stepped on the scale the woman looked at me (was that disappointment I say in her eyes?) and said, "You've lost 2lbs!"...What???2lbs? That can't be right? I ate exactly what my sister and mother ate, with the exception of that one cookie, so how can that be. I looked up at my mother with tears in my eyes, and saw disappointment in her eyes. I assumed it was disappointment in me for failing. I didn't realize it was disappointment in herself, because she was feeling like she somehow let me down.
Through the rest of the meeting tears streamed down my face as I felt the "weight" of my own failure. My sister had lost over 4x's the weight I did! She was, once again, better than me. Throughout the meeting my mother tried to encourage me by saying not everyone has the same "metabolism" (what the heck was she talking about?), thus that is why my sister had lost so much more weight than I. It didn't matter, I had failed and I was devastated...When I think about it, I can't help but feel bad that my Mom was trying so hard to encourage me, that Kath didn't get the kudos she deserved. After all, she had lost 9lbs and that was major cause for celebration! So let's celebrate...where's the CAKE????
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