(I can’t believe, with all the posts I have in the pipeline of my brain that this is the first to come out. It’s a major loss because there’s another post in my mind that probably died because this one got printed, and it was probably way better. Sorry!)
I was invited to join a Biggest Loser competition, and I ignored the email. I don’t even own a scale, which is one of the few things you actually need to be in a weight loss competition. Days before the deadline I finally emailed my thanks-but-next-time and as soon as I hit “send” I felt incredibly guilty for, once again, postponing my self for something else. The time is not to procrastinate. The time is now.
So I did what no woman has probably ever done before: two days before Mother’s Day I emailed my husband and said, “I finally know what I want for Mother’s Day.” [sidebar: I had previously asked him to clean our room. He replied that wasn’t a gift and to please tell him what he could give to me. I’m difficult that way. I don’t want material goods.] I asked him to buy me a scale so I could start this competition immediately. I can only imagine the agony it was for him to read that I finally thought of something material that I wanted and it was a scale!
Paul is a very loving husband. As hard as it was, he bought me what I asked, (and some facial moisturizer I really wanted, and some chocolates. We’ll talk about that mixed-message another time.)
Sunday morning I opened my gifts, put the battery in the scale, and discovered that I have gained seven pounds since early December. But I did not cry. No, I did not. I swallowed my breath and reminded myself that this is exactly why I got the scale, and to not worry because this is the beginning of me doing something about it.
Sunday night, when the festivities were over, I was curious to see how many pounds of food I had eaten during the day and the scale was unable to tell me. Yes, dear reader, my brand-new-Mother’s-Day scale is already broken and I don’t even know how I did it. I’m not taking it personally, though, there’s no way I doubled my weight and broke the scale in one day. It must just be a defect.
My goal is to schedule myself (actually putting myself on the calendar) walking time a minimum of three days a week, and I’ve put myself on a “real food” diet. The food I consume must be recognizable from it’s original form. Produce is good, porridge is passable (so long as it’s not drowning in brown sugar!) and ground beef, brownies, and other such items are completely out. Today is day two, and as Boy Blue and Paul had “kung fu panda noodles” (ramen) and I longingly asked for “just a sip of broth,” Paul teased me that noodles indeed resembled their original form: awesomeness. I retorted by reading the ingredient listing.
300 calories and you’ll still be hungry afterwards…
good, he countered.
…100 of which come from fat…
…12 grams of fat, half of which are saturated…
…and a whopping 1,280mg of sodium.
Folks, I’m on my own here. He’s only about 8 pounds heavier than he’d like to be and he could drop that just by thinking about it. But at least he didn’t save me a sip of broth. We both got thinking that all that bad stuff was probably more in the soup than the noodles anyway.
I had a baked potato. It reminded me of my early college days, when I was skinny and active and happy. I was in Idaho and could buy a ten-pound bag of potatoes for a dollar (note: I paid two dollars for my current bag) and that bag would last me a considerable amount of time. Most weeks I only spent $11 on groceries but I ate three meals a day and had the occaisional snack. Baked potatoes remind me of those college days and my spartan, but usually healthy, diet of necessity. When I think of that diet, I also remember my subsistance on ramen; at 10cent a package, how could I not? I hardly have it anymore, but you know as soon as something is restricted it is suddenly attractive…