Weighty Issues...getting started

It's time to get a handle on this once and for all.

I'm 5'3 and I weigh 172.0 pounds. I can't believe I wrote that out loud.

Let's wander down memory lane for a minute here, shall we?

I've always been curvy. When I'm at a healthy weight I have an hour glass shape. 10lbs above that and I have an hour and a half shape. Anything more than that? A definite pear. I like hour glass, I don't mind an hour and a half, but pears are not my favorite.

During my pregnancy with Forrest I ate whatever I wanted. I ate junk 24/7 and I didn't exercise at all. I left the hospital after delivering him weighing one pound less than when I got pregnant.

When I found out that I was pregnant with Chloe I assumed that I was one of those lucky people that could eat like a sumo wrestler and not gain too much. Evidently I had forgotten that old saying about people that assume things. Plowing through 8 Oreo cookies every single night for 7 months seemed completely reasonable.

Somewhere around month 8 I realized that I had gained a lot of weight. Unfortunately "a lot" is a relative word. I found out just how relative when I got home from the hospital and tried on my loosest pre-pregnancy dress which was a roomy size 6. I couldn't get it over my head.

"Okay" I thought..."I'll go buy a few things to get me through until I lose a few pounds". Mark being the good husband that he is, went shopping with me. I gathered an armful of size 8's and headed for the dressing room.

Not a single thing made it over my shoulders.

Alright, perhaps an armful of 10's? Nope.

Surely I'm a 12 then? Negative. I had a nuclear meltdown in the dressing room of Saks off 5th in the Opry Mills mall. Big, ugly sobbing ensued. My reasonable husband vowed to never go shopping with me again and I left the mall red eyed, fat and clothes-less. (Turns out I had gone from a size 4/6 to a very tight size16. I loathe Oreo cookies and my metabolism).

I joined Weight Watchers and a gym. When going out to eat I carried my own dressing, butter spray and non-fat sour cream in my purse. I was a point Nazi. I made it back down to a size 10 just in time to find out that I was pregnant again. I vowed not to gain 80lbs this time, and I didn't. I stayed on WW and I went to the gym every single day until the day before I was induced. I only gained 17lbs and I fit into my 10's when I got home. I kept it up while I nursed Cammie for the next 9 months and lost another 15lbs.

After I quit nursing I started taking diet pills. I still worked out at least 5 days a week and I ate super healthy. I made it back down to 122lbs and wore a size 4 (woohoo). I maintained that weight for over a year.

Then our family was rocked by something beyond our control. I spiraled into depression, ate junk food and fast food every day, couldn't bring myself to exercise and pretty much just let myself go. Since I didn't care about fixing myself up at all, I would buy shapeless baggy clothes that covered me up. I gained 77.9lbs.

After months of not stepping on a scale...and having to buy a size 16 skirt (again), I came out of my fog long enough to weigh in.

I weighed 199.9 pounds. Did I mention I'm 5'3? I wasn't curvy, I wasn't chubby, I wasn't merely a pear. I was a freaking fatty and I was shocked and terrified of crossing over into the land of the 200's.

Back on the wagon I went. I made it to 176.8 and that's were I stayed for a very long time. I began working on it again last year and made it to 162.2. Then I began sabotaging myself. I slacked off on the calorie counting and quit exercising. I have fluctuated between 162 and 172 ever since.

I'm over it.

I'll be 35 in 19 days. I'm going to Vegas in 48 days and Chicago in 96 days and something has got to give.

Goal #1:  165lbs by September 12. (7lbs total)
Goal #2:  155lbs by October 3. (17lbs total)
Goal #3:  140lbs by November 23. (32lbs total)
Goal "4:   125lbs

Ambitious? Yes. Doable? Yes.

Praising Pinterest

                                        



Pinterest...oh how I love thee.

An invite to Pinterest was sent to me about 18 months ago. I signed up. I spent about 10 minutes on the site. I realized that I would actually need to cook something or make something or you know, do something in order to make it worth my time. And I wasn't up for doing much of anything. So, I clicked off and pretty much forgot about the whole business of pinning (which is now a verb).

I would see facebook updates wherein people thanked Pinterest for a recipe or a craft or world peace. I would ignore them...and maybe roll my eyes. Ok, I did quite a bit of eye rolling. I blame my bad attitude on the rain cloud.

Then...once the clouds started rolling out and motivation returned, I figured I should give Pinterest another go. I need recipes. I need mantle-scape ideas. Halloween is right around the corner and I need to decorate. I need crafts in my life. World peace sounds doable!

I am completely addicted.

However, it can't just be a place that sucks my time and ties my bubbly behind to the couch or bed everyday. So, I am starting a little thing I'm going to call "Look what I did"! Because...

1. I like to share. If I like something, I share. If I don't like something, I share. I'm a sharer.
2. I need to be tethered so that I'm not sucked into a black hole of time-sucking.
3. I like to pat my little self on the back every once in awhile...and since I've been beating myself up pretty good for the last year and a half, I think I'm overdue for a little patting.

My first foray into turning a virtual pin into a tangible action was a success. I'll be honest, I went for an easy win.  I made Ranch Pork Chops. 3 whole ingredients not including the can of water. I did go a little crazy with it...I used a packet of Fiesta Ranch instead of plain Ranch. I know, I'm a brave soul.

Hannah helped me whip up some garlic mashed potatoes and the gravy left in the bottom of the crockpot sho- was tasty over the top of them. It was a hit. Mark loved it, his mom loved it, the kids loved it, the chickens that ate the leftovers loved it...mmm hmm. I was/am proud of myself and my three ingredients.

That small win propelled me on. I have made 4 more recipes this week. All winners. All with more than three ingredients.

Which leads me to another segue. I'm going to have another little section on here. A monthly/bi-monthly/whenever-I-feel-like-it posting called Weighty Issues. All this cooking is causing me some concern. I need to be accountable on the weight loss front. Aren't you so excited? Yeah, me too. Not.

Time to meal plan now. Happy pinning!

So I lied...

When I said that I didn't know why I fall off the blogging wagon so often, I lied. I do know. Its a little black cloud that floats over me at various times. A storm cloud that blows in and hangs out...depression.

For me, depression sneaks up. It starts with having a headache more days than not. No, not glaring migraines...dull aches that make it difficult to focus.

 Next comes the tiredness. An overwhelming sense of fatigue...where the thought of just showering seems overwhelming and requires a self-pep-talk. Where anything other than doing the bare minimum to get through a day has me exhausted and craving a nap...a loooong nap.

The backing up of laundry, the eating of lots of fast food, dust bunnies gone wild.

And then comes insomnia. Robbing me of sleep and leaving me cranky. Very cranky.

And my temper gets short. Not fun.

And I start eating bad, then worse, then terrible.

Answer the phone? Return a call? Nope. Too much effort required.

And I don't have a single drop of creative energy in my body. Not. A. Drop. Not for writing, not for photography, not for scrapbooking, not for cooking, not for anything.

Basically, I can read a book and feel ok. Anything more and I feel like I need a week long vacation.

I used to beat myself up about it. I should be better than this. I have nothing to be depressed about. I have a pretty great life. I shouldn't be so lazy. I know better.

Negative self talk that makes the depression worse.

I go from being a creative, passionate, organized, productive wife and mother to an unhealthy, unhappy irritable zombie.

For years I believed if I just prayed more, if I could squeeze in another chapter of scripture, etc. I would be fine. And you know what? I was wrong.

Fortunately I have a fantastic doctor. A doctor that told me that if I had diabetes I would pray to be healed but I would take my insulin in the meantime. A doctor that taught me that what I think I should be able to handle and what my body thinks I can handle are two very different things. A doctor that cared enough to point me in the direction of medicine that would help...and then respected my decision to wean off when the inevitable sexual side effects would take hold.

My doctor also encouraged me to study depression and it's effects on my own. To read reviews on new medicines and weigh my options.

I've spent the last year and a half fighting it on my own. With diet and exercise and sunshine. With no relief. The last six months were THE worst. THE worst.

So, I began researching options again. Reading up on the latest medicines and homeopathic remedies. I found a new medication and asked my doctor if I could try it. It has all the benefits of an anti-depressant without the sexual side effects. And it's working.

I have cooked more in the last three weeks than in the last year combined. Even better? I'm enjoying it! I've cleaned out closets and cabinets and drawers, began working on the interior and exterior of the house, making lists, crossing things off. I feel like myself again. And I like me again.

I feel like writing again. I've held back writing things on this blog over the years. Worried about who would say or think whatever about me. I censored myself out of fear of rejection. I'm mostly done with that.

Here's to more authentic writing...and to rain clouds that pass over instead of hang around.

Helllllooo out there...

It would appear that it's about time for my yearly update. I have no idea why I fall off of the blogging wagon so routinely...especially when I go back and read past entries and am reminded of some little wonder of my life.

Today is the first time that I've even looked at this blog since the last post...11 months and 4 days ago. I realized that there are basically two years missing from my chronicles. I also realized that I gave a teaser about two major life decisions and never said what they were. And now they seem like odd bits to throw out there.

But, I've always been a fan of odd bits, so I'll do it anyway.

1) We moved. We bought our dream home...and we shall never move again. Ever. (Mark and I plan to live in Chicago for at least one year...maybe two...after the kids graduate...but we will be keeping this house). This is the house where our grandchildren will come to visit us. That's a weird thought.

2) We adopted a son. He is a family adoption...and he was 18 months old when he became more than a second cousin to my husband and a third cousin to our children...when instead he became our son and their baby brother. He is adorable and smart and full of life. He definitely shook things up around here. (And for those of you that have lost count, he brings our offspring count to 6).

Kind of some major news there, huh? And you know what? I'm sad. I'm sad that I didn't keep up with this blog during all of that. The ups and downs...the minutiae of the past two years...gone. I've done Project Life most of this year...so memories have been recorded...but not in this format. Scrapbooks feel like they are for my family. I enjoy creating them and they fulfill certain aspects of creativity that I crave...but they have never fulfilled me in the same way that writing does. 

No matter how many times I walk away from it, and no matter how many months pass between posts, I'm drawn back to this spot.

So, here I am. Back again.