I hurried home after work today for a quick nap before I met friends. I arrived home, and drove straight into the garage, thus went into the house through the laundry room. My mom had left me a note letting me know she was at the gym. Awesome. Sleep Time.
I was curled up in my bed, warm, toasty and happy, about to drift into slumber land when I heard a massive thump on the front door. I opened my eyes. It happened again. And then I clearly heard the door get pushed open with a huge force.
I was terrified. I heard someone walk in, or could have sworn I did. I looked for my cell phone, but then realized it was downstairs. I grabbed my pink hair straightener, crept to my bedroom door, and yelled, “Hello” half question, half terror.
I eventually crept out my room enough to see the front door wide open. WIDE. OPEN. PEOPLE. WIDE OPEN.
I yelled/asked again, “hello?” No answer.
After debating my options, and squeezing my hair straightener really, really tight, I ever-so-slowly crept downstairs and explored the house for my killer/thief/rapist, but to no avail.
I have no idea what happened or why the door swung open with such force (my mom had forgotten to lock the front door) but it takes a spot in my top 5 scariest moments in life (#1 - #4 all have to do with snakes).
However, the one thing I will say is this, I always assumed if an intruder came into my house, I’d hide in a dark closet shaking until the killer/thief/rapist found me, or my parents/friends/police found me, not go in search of the killer. So, I guess when all those ‘idiots’ in the scary movies go in search of their killers, it’s actually pretty legit. I was ready to take down whomever I encountered. Take down y’all! I was so scared.
So yes, that happened today, which means a text message to friends later; Blanket, Couch, Laptop, Comfort Fudgsicle, American Idol.
After work I headed to the physio to get my IT Band beat to death. It was $70 for 1/2 an hour. I wanted to cry at the price (and pain). While I was waiting, I discovered cellulite on my shins. I was more impressed than annoyed, I mean, really shins? Really?
I then met Scott for a light run. I was introduced to Scott in NYC, at the January Do Life run. He was pretty cool (re: inspiring! He’s taken his marathon time down from a ~4:27 to 3:09 (Boston Qualified!!), and is training to get it under 3:00 (say wha?!)). Anywho, I told him to let me know when he was in Toronto, and he did, and so we ran.
We went 6k at it last night. My knee hurt. A lot. It sucked. But on the bright side, I look skinny in the photos Scott emailed me. (whatever, shallowness is how I roll…)
Look Ma! I’m beating a Boston Qualifier! <— Glory moment.
After our rainy run we headed over to Toronto’s Real Sports bar to watch Vancouver lose 7 to 2. MINOR DETAILS PEOPLE becase the food was delicious.
Sometimes (mostly when I’m eating) I wish I was a boy. Also-also, there were lots of people there, I didn’t drink the pitcher of ceasar to myself. Also, Americans - sucks to be you not having ceasars in your country because NOM NOM NOM. Nom-nom!
Overall, excellent evening, except for the part where I lay on my bed, in my underwear, and felt like a beached whale. Hence, that post.
that be the title of this post if no one was reading. but it can’t be. i’m not allowed to not like myself. my blog told me so. i have to always “think positively.” but i’m human. and so i don’t. i have moments where i’m reminded i’m still overweight how this is not supposed to be my life. how i’m turning 27 this year. and how the girl i dreamt i’d be, i’m not. it’s hard. letting expectations go. really hard. i feel old. i guess it comes down to this; i just want this weight loss saga to be over with. to stop thinking about it. to stop obsessing over it. to just be. i can’t imagine life like that. so much free time. but i can wish. hope. dream. right? the days keep passing. and nothing is changing. the moments just keep slipping by but i’ve come a long way. i see that. i do. i just need to go the whole way. one day. some day. i just wish that day was today.
Things that happened today: I actually reached the point, where pulling my hair out felt better than life. Let’s just say, being of the female variety in the finance world sometimes SUCKS. [ed note: it’s back to normal now - pulling on my hair really hurts]
In other news, I’m a busy bee tonight:
5:00 Finish work. NOW YO! 5:30 Physio 6:15 Running Group Talk 6:45 light 6k run with Scott. [Memo to Scott: Please see the word “light” in front of “6k run,” you Boston Marathon Qualifier, you] [Memo to knee: If you hurt, I will cry] 8:00 Watching Vancouver Canucks play their 4th playoff game, all while avoiding beer carbs and pub food. [Memo to self: BEACH IN 5 DAYS!!]
A few years ago Last year I would have had no concept of how impressive and amazing and insane this time is. I’m just blown away by how fast these guys (and girls!) run - faster than the subway and faster than treadmills even go!!!
one of the reasons i got so fat is because i’m lazy. i love being horizontal; in bed. on a couch. on the ground. i often take baths because standing in the shower seems like too much effort, and in my first year of university i was known as the girl who once said, ‘sorry about my hair, i was too lazy to lift my arms to tie it in a pony tail,’ and yes, i really meant it.
right now, i’m too lazy to reach my little finger over to access the magical powers of the shift button to allow me to capitalize this post. now that’s LAZY (<— effort. only for you tumblr)
anywho, so it’s saturday right now. 9:42am. i am lying in bed (not fighting gravity. it’s awesome). but i am hungry. i want breakfast. i want food in ma belly.
there are lots of options in the kitchen. ranging from fast, easy, LAZY, delicious, ass-enhancing food (i’m looking at you toaster strudels with you and your delicious icing, you) as well as protein, healthy, goodness, except, oh wait. that takes effort to create (i’m looking at you scrambled eggs still in yolk form in the fridge).
the old me, the fat me, so would have just rolled out of bed. probably not even put on any pants. neanderthalled my ass downstairs. popped some strudels in the toaster. ate something while i waited. then neadered over to the couch with my strudels to be horizontal, eat, and watch tv (perhaps my tivod biggest loser? because watching fat people try lose weight has no affect on me).
but, as i know, you know, and our mother’s know. losing weight takes effort. sigh. which means i’m going to roll out of bed. put some pants on (it’s the right thing to do). and go make myself something i won’t hate myself 3.2 seconds after consuming. effort. it’ll be effort. but i know it’ll be worth it.
gonna have a good day. gonna start it right. no guilty feelings for this former chubby bunny.
[gym at 1:30pm. date with a boy around 4pm (say wha?!). then tonight? nothing but healthy read-ing/tv-ing/internet-ing/clean-ing]
rebecca black was so wrong. it’s not friday you gotta get down on, it’s saturday.
That’s a loss of 3 pounds for those of you counting. Not-gonna-lie, earlier this week every bone in my body intended on using my self-made-up veto card, and skipping this month’s weigh-in, but then the clouds aligned, and suddenly I saw 146 between my toes yesterday, and gasped with joy!
Especially as I’ll be on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean a week today.
And to answer all your questions, absolutely! From this moment forward, I shall be known as Loser-Liz. And BOOM!
i had my first ever panic attack tonight. up until tonight i had no idea what a “panic attack” was. i had just seen them on tv.
it was horrible. absolutely horrible.
i was at the gym. actually, on the treadmill. and i was running my heart out. i had one simple mile to go. that’s all, 1.6 kilometres. i was running at a pace of 7 minutes, 30 seconds a mile. or 4 minutes 39 seconds a kilometre.
hard, but doable.
i wasn’t thinking. just running. watching commercials flicker up ahead. balancing my weight. swinging my arms. feeling strong. feeling good.
but then i looked down. and that’s when I saw it: 0.4 miles done.
what? omg. wait. that’s all? i can’t do this. i can’t do this. i’m going too fast. i can’t do this. it’s too fast. slow it down. 0.41. why isn’t it moving faster. i’m going to fail. i can’t do this….
my breathing got short. i started gasping. tears came into my eyes. i lost my breath. people were staring. my lungs hurt. i couldn’t do it. i wouldn’t do it. i jumped to the side. and tried to, unsuccessfully gasp for air. my lungs seemed to have collapsed. i couldn’t talk. i was just trying to get air, but no matter how big of a breath i took, i didn’t get any.
as i type this i can still feel the roughness in the back of my throat from desperately trying to find air.
my trainer watched me. let me work it out. then said, “you know that was all mental, right? you thought you were going to fail. so you did." i still couldn’t talk. i hadn’t found my breath yet. i crouched down. i was coughing now. trying to remove the smokey feeling from the back of my throat. gasping for air.
i was (am) very disappointed in myself. i let my negative thoughts own me. lead me. i believed i couldn’t do it. and so i couldn’t.
i never finished that mile. i couldn’t. i wouldn’t. physically or mentally.
there was little difference in me tonight compared to last week, when I ran that same mile at 9.0, but that little difference made the biggest difference in the end. the little difference of 'i can' verse 'i can’t.’
This is the part where I tell you I am not a doctor, or a nutritionist, or anyone with any special qualifications to write a post of such a nature. This is the part that will cover my ass if someone out there follows my ideas, and then things go awry. This is where I reinforce my ultimate goal, the ultimate goal of throwing on a white t-shirt, and a pair of jeans and liking what I see – having, what I consider, a normal, nice, body, not a size 0 body, or even 2, or even 4, but a size comfortable, a size where I can sit in that white t-shirt and pair of jeans and not worry about my stomach. I’m not trying to be skin and bones, or to be unhealthy… so do not take my thoughts the wrong way. I just think I’m being realistic. I wrote the words below to my 200+ self (aka a twenty something female actually considered “obese”). I didn’t write them to a 125 pound person, trying to weigh sub 100. Here my tips, from my(!!) experience, the experience of a 26 year old girl who has lost 50+ pounds… and still wants to lose 25 more.
Motivation and Commitment,
Whatever, Nike, it’s not just as simple as “just do it” because guess what? If it was that simple, we all would have “just done it.” Sadly, it’s every man for himself when it comes to finding motivation. And most likely, finding motivation will be the hardest part of the whole losing-weight-journey-thing. All I know is that no matter what I write here, no matter how many inspiring blogs you read, no matter the number of skinny photos you ogle at, it’s 110% up to you.
Nobody, and I seriously mean nobody, can lose your weight, but you.
I learned that one the hard way. I have had a personal trainer, a nutritionist, and a blog dedicated to losing weight. I have trained for a freaking full marathon and then run two marathons(!!). I have told friends and family about my goals. I have had every type of support surrounding me, but I didn’t do it. Why? Because I hadn’t 110% committed to it. Yes, I wanted it, but was I really willing to sit in front of a tray of cupcakes and not eat one? No. I wanted the best of both worlds. And y’know what? When it comes to losing weight, it turns out that it is impossible to have the best of both worlds. The quicker you learn that, the better. Losing weight is sacrifice and hard work and doing things you don’t want to do. <— Know that, it’s very important.
You can’t just exclaim, “I wanna lose weight! I’m gonna lose weight! YAY! Let’s do it!” because that will only last a day, or, if you’re lucky, two days. And chances are you uttered those words after a terrible day of eating or when you were full. We always promise ourselves we’ll lose weight when we’re full. It’s when we’re hungry that we forget our promises… when we lose direction, when we eat bad food, when we are bored, when we are watching TV, when we just don’t care…
Personally I’ve had several “ah-ha” moments which kicked my ass into gear, and I have also had some quiet one-on-one moments which pushed me forward. Finding motivation and committing to yourself to finally do it, once and for all is personal… you need to figure out how much it’s worth to you, how much you want it, and how much you’re willing to fight for it; because that’s what losing weight is. It is a fight with yourself. To help with this process, my only tips would be, 1. Are you human? Yes? Yes. Excellent, then it is possible for you to do it and, get this, you CAN do it. 2. It’s worth it. Despite how hard/frustrating/annoying it gets, it’s worth it. Life is better less fat (oh shit… there, I said it… I better make this another point).
Life is Better Not Fat
If you don’t think this you’re wrong. KIDDING. Or am I? Look, carrying a lot of extra weight on your body is just bad-news-bears all around. Ask a doctor. He or she will tell you. Fatness doesn’t look pleasant either (whatever, we’re all shallow), and at the end of the day it’s simply unhealthy.
I am not saying hate yourself if you’re overweight. My God, I hated everything about my body most of my life, so when I was trying to lose weight I was working against my body to do it. If you like yourself, and love your body, the entire journey will be a lot easier. I highly recommend your brain and your bod team up, and conquer your weight problem once and for all - together. Love yourself (I know, it sounds so lame), but at the end of the day, your body is the only thing you really have in this world… the journey will also be a lot easier then. Also, you’re absolutely worth it, and - sorry to break it to you - but your body is just like everybody else’s. That means that your body is more than capable of losing the weight. You can be a success story, one of those people holding up their “before” pants!! [Ed note: for all those people who are plus size and LOVE being plus size, I give you a GOLD STAR. All the power to you!! Wahoo! I am very jelly]
You Gotta Eat Less!
I know, right? Well isn’t that super crappy!? It is, indeed, it is! But, losing weight = Calories-In are less than Calories-Out. This applies no matter who you are, or what way you look at it. It’s not rocket science, it’s actually incredibly simple. It really is. Eat Less. Move more. Tis true, we all already knew this, this isn’t anything to write home about, but obviously (please see archives of this blog) it’s easier said than done. And why is that?? It is because we all think we can eat more than we actually need. That’s right folks, we humans don’t need much food. If we did, we wouldn’t have survived our tribal hunting n’ gathering and camp fire dancin’ days. We’ve been conditioned to eating more than we need.
I’m not going to tell you how many calories to eat, because I don’t know, and besides, everyone is different, but I will tell you to record what you eat, even if it’s just for one day. It’s shocking (and devastating!) how quickly calories add up, and how little 1,500 calories (for example) actually is.
Definitions Vary – so Be Careful!
Here’s something I think most people who are trying to lose weight get screwed on: definitions. Yes, in my opinion, most people who have never tried to lose weight screw the rest of us on definitions. With the exception of the tiny minority of people in this world who were blessed with the super-power of truly being able to “eat anything they want, and still not gain weight,” the rest of the world’s normal/skinny people just do not eat as much as we tubby people eat. It’s disappointing and annoying, but it is true. They don’t.
They may tell you they eat “a lot of food”, because they think that they do, but they don’t. People’s definitions of “a lot of food” vary greatly, so don’t be fooled. Follow an average sized friend around for a few days, and eat exactly what they eat, and you will lose weight. There is no secret to this game we play. When that skinny girl claims, “I ate like rubbish today, just terribly for me,” chances are her “bad day” would be a “normal day” for you, and chances are she can’t even comprehend what a “bad eating day” entails for you. I’ve probably had days with 5,000+ calories in them. Delicious. But that is why I was “obese.”. That skinny girl does not have days like that.
[I also believe lots of girls skip meals, and only really eat in public… but that’s a topic for another post.]
Anyhow, the point of this section is to say DO NOT COMPARE YOURSELF TO OTHERS. It’s misleading. You have no idea how much, or how little your friends are eating behind closed doors, and from my experience, they’re not eating as much as we eat. You simply must never think, “she’s eating it, so I can…”
Wanna know a secret? THEY ALL WORK… if you actually follow them. That’s right: All. Of. Them. Work. Why? Because they all ensure that calories-in are less than calories-out. Remember that magic equation?
So, do I believe in diets? Somewhat. That is because I (and this really is personally for me) find that to lose weight, a diet is needed. I need a nice clear plan with nice clear rules.
Then there is the question of maintaining the new weight? Well, to do that, your lifestyle has to be altered. Losing weight and maintenaince are two different games. Do not mistake one for the other.
Obviously there are exceptions, and we all hear of those special people who “lost weight without even trying,” or who “changed one thing, adjusted their lifestyle and the fat melted off.” Well, all I can say is lucky them, but for the rest of us, to lose weight, and push through the battle of the bulge, diets help - they kick start us on our journey, keep us motivated with results, and help us realize just how little we actually have to eat in order to shed the lard.
BUT, BUT, BUT, with that being said, you need to research the program you want to do and find one that works for you. I think 90% of diets are, indeed, crap - (drink diets? psssh, please). I like the ones that incorporate healthy living into one’s diet (thus making the maintenance phase easy and realistic to adjust to - I like diets like Eat-Clean Diet, Paleo, and Weight Watchers.)
If It’s Not Working, You’re Cheating Change Something!
Chances are if it’s not working, you’re cheating. You have the wrong equation operating. If it’s not working, your equation is now calories-in are equeal to calories-out, or worse, calories-in are more than calories-out. There are so many pretty, fluffy, pink, excuses floating around to make those of us cheating, forget that we’re cheating, and believe that it’s not us, but “water weight,” or “muscle weight,” or that we are in “starvation mode,” but the reality is: if you’re not losing weight for a long period of time, something is wrong.
I DO believe that some of those excuses are legit, but what I’m simply saying, from my own oh-so-extensive experience, is that they can’t be excuses for weeks and weeks and weeks (or, if you’re like me, months, nay years!). If you’re not losing weight, you gotta come to terms with the painful news… are you cheating? yes? well that’s stupid, stop it. And secondly, and here is the even more painful news, if maybe, just maybe, (and yes, oh-so-sadly this has happened to me) you’re actually not cheating (bravo!!) and are still not losing weight, you have to change something. Losing weight is not like sliding smoothly down a slide, it’s more like taking the stairs down, so yup, you will hit flat bits (plateaus) and when you do, you have to change something, so revamp your body. When your body levels out, it’s the only way.
If a Person Eats Something in Their Kitchen, and No One is Around to See it, Do The Calories Actually Count?
Y.E.S. This took me FOREVER to realize. All my sneaky pieces of cheese, secret chocolate bars, silent, lonely snacks COUNTED. I was only cheating myself. On that note, don’t complain and feel sorry for yourself if you’re cheating (see blog archives of me doing this). I did for 25 years… so trust me, it will get you no where fast. Besides, how does that even make sense? Exactly. It doesn’t.
Exercise Vs. Food, oh my!
If you’ve read my blog for more than 3.2 seconds, you’ll know I believe that losing weight is 95% food, and 5% exercise, and that’s me being generous. You can lose weight sitting on the couch, and you can run several marathons and gain weight. (Refer to my 2010 year for proof, please and thank you.)
However, I am absolutely pro-pro-pro working out because it helps you stay on track, reduces cellulite (who wants to be one of those skinny-fat people?) and makes you feel strong, and awesome, and accomplished, but exercise complements losing weight. Exercise is not the whole answer.
Random Tips (because this post has gotten too long… and I could write a book on this… so I’ll spare you)
So you’re addicted to the scale, eh? Meh. I weigh myself tons and tons and yes, probably too much, but what’s the harm? It keeps me on track and encourages me if I’m losing weight, and reminds me to eat less when I gain.
Deadlines. A goal without a deadline is not a goal, it’s a dream. Set a date. And on that date say, “Yay! I succeeded” or “I failed.”
Never. Give. Up.
Water it up yo! Sure you’ll go pee a billion times a day, but it helps (or so I hear - I suck at this).
A half-hour walk does not equal a brownie. And a 10k does not equal a burger and fries.
Eating more of something won’t help you lose weight. Calories are calories are calories.
Your body is working against you. Everything is working against you. LIFE is also working against you. Even your friends may be working against you.
It’s really hard. Every day you have to put effort in, every, singe, day. If you’re battling with this now, you’re probably gonna be a lifer. Join the club. Fat people tend to be funny, so the club is pretty awesome.
And finally, if being over weight is your only problem, consider yourself very, very lucky!! You have the power to change your problem? My God, lucky you.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
Comment! As we all know, the name of my blog is One Twenty Five, and I currently weigh 149, so OBVIOUSLY I don’t know my stuff that well, and yes, I’m still learning. I will respond to comments. (I can’t reply to “tumblr replies” though, fyi.)
I didn’t actually want to write this post, because who am I to give any sort of advice? But I’m asked this question at least a couple of times a day… and like I said, these are my thoughts, from my experience. It will obviously vary for different people.
Also, along with this post, my other unauthorized advice can be found here:
Today marks 34 days of my self imposed, no-pop-what-was-I-Thinking? Lent challenge. Not-gonna-lie, it’s been fairly easy so far… that is, up until right now.
I want a delicious, cold, diet coke so badly right now…. it’s all I can think of…. Hmmm satisfying-pop!-when-you-open-the-can, delicious, full-bodied, fizzy, great-thirst-quencher, refreshing, tastes-like-heaven, carbonated, black, I-don’t-care-if-it’s-bad-for-me, goodness, GET IN MA BELLY…
Do you ever wonder if someone likes you, like really likes you, and you have absolutely no idea? Like, they’re checking your Facebook, thinking about you at night, thinking you’re beautiful (or handsome), dreamin’ about you? Wishin’ for you(!)?
I used to wonder this, but as the years passed and proof presented itself to me that my life was not, indeed, a movie (oh what a sad day that was!), I stopped wondering, stopped wishing, stopped secretly hoping - didn’t see any point I suppose.
Saturday night a boy confessed I was that person to him.
I can also honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever been complimented by another person, as much as I was last night.
He told me things that absolutely humbled me. How from the moment he saw me he thought I was the “most beautiful girl he’d ever seen,” how at lunch last week he had to consciously “force himself not to stare at me,” how he thinks about me “at night, at work, and all the time.” This all sounds rather creepy, but it wasn’t; we were simply two friends, standing on a street corner, waiting for a cab at 2am.
He had had one too many pints of beer, and was taking a chance, a chance on me. He was so nervous, and so sincere, that for a moment in time I believed my life was a movie.
I was flattered, but not giddy. I had never thought of this boy like that. Never. And so for the first time in my life, I was the other person, the person not getting hurt, but the person doing the hurting.
I don’t know which is worse. Both suck. A lot.
I smiled at him, but didn’t know what to do. I tried to make a joke, but it wasn’t the right time. He waited. I looked at my feet. Like I said, it was awful.
I’ve been hurt before, actually, I’ve been hurt a lot before, so I knew what it was like to be him. But unlike people from my past, I was honest with him. Didn’t lead him on. Found the courage. Looked him in the eyes. And told him.
Rejection hurts. But as I learned this weekend, rejecting someone hurts too. I wanted to run after him, tap in on the shoulder, kiss him on the mouth, and then run away. He’d then utter, “enough is enough,” and he wouldn’t be hurt anymore, simply go on with his life… [like that Keira Knightley scene in Love Actually, for those who weren’t following ps], but I remembered, once again, my life is not a movie, and so I just let him walk away, feeling rejected, and me standing there feeling like a horrible person, a horrible person who had actually done the right thing.
When I was a little girl I loved barbies (as all girls do) and would play with them for hours (and hours!). However, for whatever reason, my parents would never buy me the Ken barbies, and as all little girls know, playing house with lots of girl barbies simply just does not do (hello, Barbie needed dates!).
So, this being quite the dilemma for my 6 year old self, I decided to take matters into my own hands. One night I snuck into the garage and went in search of my dad’s tool box to find two things: a hammer, and scissors. Once located I went straight to work, first cutting off all of my “ugliest” Barbie’s hair, and then bashing in her two, very perky and very hard boobs. I then dressed my new Ken in the manliest barbie clothes I had (flower pants), and took him on a date with one of my other barbies.
I had my self-made Ken barbie right up until the end of my barbie playing days and loved him very, very much, never thinking there was anything wrong with him. When my friends would comment about him being different, I would whisper apologies to him that night, hoping he wasn’t offended, because to me, he was absolutely perfect.
I once heard, “there are two key ingredients to being successful in life: Sleep and Exercise.”
I scoffed at that, just two? Pa-lease, there’s a lot more than that, but I kept thinking about that little sentence, and as time went on, I did a 180 and now truly believe that sleep and exercise are all it takes to be successful in life.
If you’re not tired, you’re productive, and if you exercise you have energy, and thus everything else will fall into place.
You are a sad, sad girl. Being overweight is not what's wrong with you, it's your outlook. Your obsession with being skinny is sad. You should work more on liking yourself, not making yourself disappear.
Pshhh whatever. I’m pretty sure my blog, this blog, is a blog about weight loss, it’s where my inner chubby-nista rants on about my weight, don’t be mistaken you Anonymous Reader you, there is a lot more to me than my blog… it’s kinda naive of you to think otherwise.
Oh! Oh! And also,
I have never in my life left someone an Anon comment of this sort of variety, thus Me: 1, You: 0 and
Disappear? Obviously you have not been reading my blog.