(Parts 1 and 2 can be found here and here.)
When I woke up on the morning of day 2 of the Incredible Weight Loss Journey, I thought I had better formulate a plan for all of this calorie burning and fat melting. And judging from the left-over baby belly (nevermind that it has been four years since I have been with child) escaping out from my pyjama bottoms, yesterday (or perhaps two years ago) would not have been too soon for a plan.
But first things first! I walked into my bathroom and got on that scale. Oh, ye scale of doom – oh, ye scale, teller of left-over Chinese food eaten the night before because I was being “economical” and trying not to waste perfectly good food.
At least that’s what I told myself.
Good news! The Chinese food has not catapulted me off of my weight loss goal; however, I suspect that the minute I drink a glass of water I will regain those two pounds the scale says I’ve lost. The first part of my plan must address this obsessive habit I have of weighing myself ten times a day (before peeing, after peeing, before that granola bar, after that granola bar, before the cheeseburger and fries . . . ). From now on, I promise to only weigh myself once a week. Once a week. Yikes.
Part two of my plan has to be about eating. And I thought I could avoid this subject altogether - wrong! Before I got pregnant with my third child, I had joined Weight Watchers. Yes, I paid the monthly dues, hopped on the scale in front of some woman who previously weighed 300lbs but now was a mere shadow of her former self, received (or not) my sticker for the week and then sat amongst a sea of “losers” (losers are a good thing at weight loss meetings) listening to them discuss the best way to eat popcorn. I don’t even like popcorn that much.
Although the meetings were a bit inconvenient for me, I went and I did lose. However, I think I have spent enough time with the points, the meetings and the snack bars that taste like cardboard. Weight Watchers, you have definitely taught me a few things about successful dieting and I do not take those lessons lightly – but you will not be taking any more moula from my already shrinking wallet and as soon as I am back from vacation, I am cancelling my online monthly support of your company. I mean, I haven’t logged on to fill in a food journal in weeks . . . scratch that, months. I am afraid that my computer will crash if I enter my login information what with all the “kind” reminders I will receive for having been absent for too long.
So that leaves me a momma without a plan, a weight-loss plan, that is.
How the heck is that woman going to lose weight without a plan? You may be thinking to yourself at this moment. Well, rest assured I do have one, and it is simple. Ready to hear the master plan, the genius that will have me the envy of every single person at the water park next summer, the plan that will finally elevate me to the MILF status that I deserve (although that whole MILF thing kind of creeps me out, as I so do not want to be remembered like Stifler’s mom in the American Pie movies, eeeeew)?
The plan is this: eat less, move more.
No Atkins, no South Beach, no Jenny Craig (I wrote them an email begging asking for them to set me up on a program for free, as I figured using a real woman instead of a crazy celebrity might appeal to their target market, but they politely turned me down), no Zone, no Slim Fast.
I tried doing Atkins after my third child was born and after only 2 days of eating steak and bacon, I was feeling worse than when I’d started. I tried doing South Beach for 2 weeks about a year later, and was doing quite well – until someone decided to stop at a Krispy Kreme . With one whiff of fried donut dough and the sight of those perfect, factory formed spheres bathing in a shower of sticky sugar, it was all I could do not to jump behind the counter (wearing my souvenir paper hat) and sweep a dozen or so off the conveyor belt. The dozen we decided to bring home with us met a similar fate over the course of the next few days, and that was the end of life on "The Beach."
So, no joining and counting for me. No denying myself the foods I really want, just the jumbo portions of the food I really want (and yes, I am going to miss that pint of Ben and Jerry’s that I particularly like to cradle while watching really bad Lifetime movies). From now on, I will eat when I am hungry and eat until I am full. And I am going to wait when I get a craving instead of preying upon the refrigerator each time I have a hankering for something sweet . . . or salty . . . or creamy . . . or crunchy . . . or juicy . . .
Ever notice how talking about food sounds like talking about sex?
Anyway, no seconds either. I am usually the slowest eater at the table so you would think that this would naturally be helpful, um, not so much. Instead of being done when everyone else is, I have had the unfortunate habit of sitting there and clearing my plate, just as I was taught to, until every last drop of food is gone and you could put that plate right back in the cupboard if you wanted to because it is just that clean. From now on, I give myself permission not to finish my dinner. There, just like that, years of parenting undone.
My general rule will be quality over quantity.
Now, if I can just get through next week without completely derailing my efforts, it will be a miracle. For this is the week of our annual family vacation. Vacation with good friends, good times, good food and good cocktails . . . crap. That means I’m going to have to formulate a plan with how to deal with cocktails. After vacation, that is.
to be continued. . . hopefully sometime this year.