Rebellious eating…

31 10 2010

This is what I ate yesterday

I have it.

I’m wondering if this is a “normal” phase of the weight loss journey. Do you get close to goal weight and then begin to eat such random things (or back to eating in old behavior mode) that you’re not sure who is controlling your mind at some points? I feel like this is where I am right now. I spent the last 10 months regimented in my food and it did what it was supposed to do. I counted every calorie. I planned 90 percent of my meals and the 10 percent were as planned as mentally/emotionally possible.

Now not so much.

No. Let me rephrase that. I am still in control when I want to be but there are times I just can’t seem to get anything healthy in my mouth and for those few moments (or more) my mind shuts down and I consume food that would normally not even cross my mind. Then I come back to reality until the next “episode”. I’m not over consuming. I’m leaving food on my plate. I’m eating until full and stopping but the food choices are just not what I would normally choose. Friday I ate teriyaki, which itself is fine because as normal I got it no sauce, no rice, steamed veggies only but then I also got a large size of gyoza. Yesterday I went to Red Robin and ordered a hamburger, which is normally fine because I usually make the necessary adjustments (no cheese, wheat bun, nothing too fancy) but yesterday? All the fixin (minus the condiments), bacon, egg, cheese and fries! Fries for Pete’s sake?!? Oh and lets not forget the pumpkin scone I consumed after my run and the endless number of pieces Halloween candy consumed while carving pumpkins…

Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a mole hill but this is not normal for me and it has been happening more and more since my trip to Houston. I feel like my mind and body are rebelling against me for what I’ve put them through for the last 10 months. I feel like I am sabotaging all the inspiration that I bring to this LCJ for other people (“Oh look at Tara – she’s not really as strong as we think she is”). I feel like I’m sabotaging myself because even as I look in the mirror and say out loud “Tara put down the candy”, I’m stuffing another tootsie roll into my mouth.

My mind is making excuses.

I ran 10 miles so (insert food) is okay.

I pack my food Mon – Friday so (insert food) is okay.

I go to the gym every day so (insert food) is okay.

I’m only up 3 pounds so (insert food) is okay.

(insert excuse) so (insert food) is okay.

Is this normal? Do I just let it go for a few weeks and stay as mindful as possible? Do I buckle down even more and continue to count calories and plan my meals even more? I feel like I’m in unexplored territory and don’t really know where to turn for the answers. Will this subside? Am I in for one hell of a ride? It was so easy for me to control the food in the beginning and yet now I feel like the food is starting to control me.

HELP!

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Fear of Making Goal Weight…

17 10 2010

Whoa, Tara!!!

Fear of making goal?!?

Don’t you mean Fear of NOT making goal weight?!?

Okay, seriously who’s is afraid of making goal? I mean when we start this LCJ and we look down at the scale for the first time in God only knows how long and see a number like 263 screaming back at us, the first thought we usually have is “I’m never going to make it down to my goal weight of (insert number here)”. For me that number is 170. When I sat down and did what most people do when we have no idea how to get started (googled “weight range”, got to Calorie King, filled out the questionniare and got a healthy range of between 119 – 171), I picked the higher end of the range because anything below 170 seemed too scary to think about.

Even in the beginning 170 seems unattainable. My highest weight was 270 and now I’m being advised via some random website that losing 100 pounds would be ideal. I remember stepping off the scale and thinking “well that’s NOT gonna happen any time soon – if ever”. I mean for Pete’s sake I hadn’t been below 200 in over 15 years and I think the last time I saw 170 I was a sophomore in high school. But I didn’t let that deter me this time around. I stopped thinking about the big picture and focused on much smaller goals. Instead of the final 100 pound goal, I looked at this journey in 5 pound increments. Each time I lost 5 pounds, I moved on to the next 5. I never focused on that 170 number…

Because I never truly believed I’d get there.

Today I look down at the scale and instead of thinking “it’s never going to happen”, I’m thinking “holy shit, it’s right there in front of me”. For close to 10 months everything about me has been this weight loss journey. Every waking moment whether conscious or not has been about making the necessary changes to be healthier in all aspects of my life. Physically, mentally and emotionally. But, truth be told I never in a million years expected to be looking down at the scale and instead of seeing 263 see numbers that began with 17(insert random number here cause I’ve seen them all except zero).

The last five pound goal is right in front of me.

And yet, for over a month I’ve been stuck between 174 – 176. You can call it what you want (plateau, maintenance, stall). I call it plain old fear. The fear of succeeding. The fear of having to believe in myself. The fear of what’s next. The fear of “wait a minute, this is all I’ve known for close to a year”. The fear of living “thin”. The fear of people looking at me and not seeing Fat Tara anymore. The fear of not finding comfort in a 1/2 gallon of ice cream. The fear of knowing the words “Super Size” would never be coming out of my mouth again. The fear of actually losing 100 pounds. The fear that for the first time in my life I would be considered “normal” in my weight range when all I’ve known  are the labels “overweight,”  “obese” and “morbidly obese”.

Tell me all you want about muscle weight vs fat weight and how I’m probably just building muscle mass (cause in case you haven’t seen my guns or my legs there are some serious muscles coming through). Tell me all you want  about having to take my loose skin into consideration as added weight. Tell me what you want about plateauing and how it’s inevitable that weight gain slows downs considerably as you get closer to ideal weight. I know all of this. It’s been my life for the 10 months. What I also know is I am scared. Scared to look down at the scale and see the number I’ve worked so hard to get to.

Would it surprise you to know that for the last few weeks I’ve actually contemplated gaining my weight back? Maybe not to the extent of weighing 270 or more but gaining enough back so that I could say things like:

“See I am a failure”

or

“I will never be good enough in the eye’s of my dead mother”

or

“I will never succeed”

or

???

I don’t know what it is about this last 5 pounds. It’s like I’m running a marathon and I stop right before the finish line. I’m afraid to cross over. I want to turn around and run back to the beginning and start again because what does one do after you cross over? In the world of running, you pick another race. In the world of lifting heavy shit, you lift you lift heavier shit. In the world weight loss…at some point you have to stop.

And then what?

Live a normal life? Live exposed instead of hidden behind a layer of fat? Shop in the smaller sizes instead of finding comfort in XXL? Cry while eating an apple instead of drowning my sorrows in fried chicken and mash potatoes? Stay in the moment instead of continually berating myself for past failures (that probably dare I say weren’t really failures). Allow myself to be happy? Allow myself to believe that for once in my life, I can instead of I can’t? Actually go out there and live?…

Yhea, I’m not ready for that yet.

I know I know, sounds crazy. But truth be told I’m not ready. As long as I can keep the label of “overweight” even “marginally overweight” then there is comfort in my lack of being able to succeed. Roll your eye’s all you want and tell me “I can’t wait to get where you are” or “Tara how can you say such things. I mean hello you’re so damn close”. I’m not afraid to speak the truth. The truth today is I am scared. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up. Quite the contrary. I’m moving more today than ever before. I’m running farther, lifting more, sweating more profusely than one can imagine. I’m doing everything in my power to reach that goal of 170…

Except mentally preparing.

I’m not sure the point of this post today. Some days I have clear and concise messages to share. Some days it’s just about putting out there what needs to said. Thinking “I’m scared” and saying it out loud for the world (at least the blogging world) are two totally different things. I am standing before the finish line…

I am afraid to cross over.

 

 

 





How much do you weigh emotionally?

10 10 2010

We don’t often think about that question.

We’re so bogged down by the physical number that we base our successes / failures on whether or not the scale is moving and forget about the weight that weighs the heaviest on us: The emotional pounds. Now I’m not a therapist nor do I play one on T.V. so of course what I write about is just from my own personal experience so take it as you will but I believe the following statement to be absolutely true: If you aren’t willing to lose the emotional weight, then your weight loss journey will NOT be successful or life-sustaining.

Oh you’ll lose some weight and you might be able to keep it off for some time but without examining the emotional aspect of your journey it will come back and it will come back with a vengeance. Emotional fat and physical fat go hand in hand. Now I’m not talking about those people who only have a few pounds to lose (whatever that definition is) because they stopped exercising after they got married or had a few children or couldn’t find the time to go to the gym after starting a new job. I’m talking about me: Bulimic since adolescence, morbidly obese, 100 pounds overweight that stuffed her pie hole every time something went wrong (read: stuffing pie hole on daily basis). I tried the diets. I was ready to sign on the dotted line for gastric bypass (and by ready to sign on the dotted line I mean I had the pen in hand, loan approved and ready to go but chickened out last-minute). I lost some weight. Atkins got me 40 pounds lighter. I gained back 60. Gastric bypass requirements got me down 30. I gained back 70. I was doing all the physical work and it was so damn frustrating to think “okay I got this” and then 3 months later realize I had gained everything back and gained back its brothers and sisters and all of its fucking cousins. I thought I was doomed to just be a fat girl and settled in to watch the scale move closer and closer to that 300 pound mark.

I was losing the physical weight.

It wasn’t enough.

What I didn’t do was examine why I was carrying around all this weight. I didn’t understand why I needed my physical fat. Let me say that again: I needed my physical fat self!!! I was too afraid to look inside. It was easier to focus all my energy on hating my physical self so that I wouldn’t have to learn to acknowledge / love my emotional self. I was too scared to look at all the circumstances of my life and acknowledge that I was dealt a crappy hand from the beginning so I just stuffed the hell out of my body and built up a shield against the world.

Against myself.

When I started this journey, I had no idea the emotional angst it would bring me. I had no idea that I would on a daily basis feel a plethora of emotions ranging from anger to sadness to pride to confusion to frustration to elation all within the same hour. I had no idea that there would be days that I would be so overwhelmed with what happened in my past that it would keep me from moving toward my future. I had no idea that I hated myself so much…

I hated myself.

I hated myself for being the child of an alcoholic mother. I hated myself for being the child of a father that left me when I was barely 90 days old. I hated myself for being the little sister of three brothers where sexual abuse, abandonment, and pure hatred for me being born in the first place was common. I hated myself for being the over achiever in school because it was the only way I knew how to get the much needed attention I wasn’t getting at home. I hated myself for being the short lived step daughter to my mother’s alcoholic husband, where they would spend hours being in love, sharing matching bar stools only to come home and trade blows while I clung to my mother’s leg begging for them to stop (and just so you don’t get the wrong idea – my mother was the physical abuser, not my step father). I hated myself for coming to the early realization that boys really do love you when you take your pants off, or at least that’s what I thought, and found a lot of boys that “loved” me. I hated myself for finding peace in eating until bloated and then throwing up until my throat bled and then turning around and hunting down more food because it was the only way I felt in control. I hated myself for watching my mother die as I battled my Meth addiction and once again realizing I failed to be the perfect daughter and now I was never going to get the chance to earn her love…

In that hate, I learned to survive. In that hate, I learned to function. In that hate I learned to keep my emotions at bay by continually eating and allowing myself to sink deeper into the depth of sadness and depression until one day not so long ago enough was enough. There was a war going on inside my soul, my mind and my body and I was losing.

I was the walking dead.

The last nine months of my life have been hard. I’ve lost the physical weight but the losing of the emotional weight is a much slower lifetime process. It’s hard to understand how I can physically carry the body of a woman that weighs 170ish and yet mentally and emotionally still carry the 260+ pound little girl inside. When I look at my body (and I spend more time in front of the mirror naked than ever before) I’m still seeing this:

December 2009

And not seeing this:

October 2010

As a quick side note, I had to wear underwear for this last picture because in trying to recreate the same pose I realized my girl parts aren’t covered by the fold of my belly fat. Also note I’m trying to  stand in the same place and my ass is in first picture is at the door, however I still don’t see what the rest of the world sees…what is plain in front of me. The difference this time around is I am embracing my emotionally fat self and fighting for her life too. When she cries because she wants pull the cover over herself and never face the world because she feels she’s failed, we cry together. When she’s angry that she can’t stuff her face anymore and find control in throwing up, we’re angry together. When she’s afraid to take the step forward because she knows she has to face her past, we hold hands and carefully place one shaky foot forward.

This was one of the most emotionally painful posts to write but it has to be done. While I am closing in on my ideal physical weight, I know today that the journey is no where close to being finished. Every day is a battle to bring my physical self and emotional self closer to being one person.

Together we will make the changes.

For a lifetime.

So now the question has to be posed: How much do you weigh emotionally? Are you hoping the physical weight loss will take care of everything? Are you wondering why you can’t lose the weight? Are you protecting something you’re afraid look at? What are you shielding? I’m here to tell you that no matter how painful you think it is to try and lose the emotional fat, it’s even more painful to carry it around for a lifetime. Never in my life, have I felt so exposed to the world in my emotions. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy but it’s only because I never acknowledged how I got here in the first place. There is something powerful in firmly planting your feet and telling the world “Yes, I am emotional. Yes I will cry at the drop of a hat. Yes, I will have emotional break downs over buying myself a Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks. Yes, I will laugh hysterically when I realize that my husband bought me a pair of medium pajama bottoms because he knew they’d fit and I can’t wear my extra extra large pajama bottoms any longer. Yes I will catch  my breath when someone points out that there is more life in my eyes than they’ve ever seen before” and every time I tell the world that I’m embracing all of my emotions no matter how difficult, I’m telling myself.

And when I tell myself…

another pound of emotional fat hits the floor.

 

 





DDGBD #7 / Going to Church

3 10 2010

Goals to accomplish by December:
Finish trek tri in under 2 hours (done)
Dead lift 150 pounds (done)
Consistently run 10 minute mile (done)
Get into size 12 pants (done)
Make my bed everyday (on going progress)

It’s time I come up with some more goals. Let me get back to you on that.

I’m in a rough place emotionally as I write this post (not surprising I guess) so am having a difficult time coming up with a proud moment. Let me get back to you on that.

Need to work on the following:

Not pushing myself to the brink of pain and then getting angry at myself when I can’t “perform” to the best of my ability (another post, another day).

___________________________________________________________________________

Today I’m going to do something I haven’t done in over 19 years: I’m going to church. One of the things I NEVER expected to happen while on this LCJ is to discover my need to examine my spirituality. I thought I’d lose some weight, run a few hundred races over the course of my new found life and be happy with all that I’ve achieved.

Something is missing.

I don’t know what that “something” is but I am about to begin another portion of this journey to find out. I’ve never been much of a religious person….Okay let me rephrase that: I’ve never been a religious person. When I was a kid, I was such a loner and needed attention so badly that every summer I would go to three or four different vacation bible schools just to hang out with other people. When I say kid, I mean I started going when I was just a wee thing of 7 (all my decision to go, walked myself there, never told my mom – who didn’t pay enough attention to me to even wonder where I was going) and continued to do so until the age of 12 or 13 when messing around with boys gave me all the attention I needed.

Fast forward to being 20, coming off of meth and watching my mother die of cancer I turned to the church again. The man who ran the drug and alcohol pre-treament house I was living at was a very quiet religious man and I admired him immensely. He would take us all to church on Sundays. We were a retched group of people but he didn’t care. He was one of us (recovering drug addict himself) and wanted to show us there was life after drugs. There was life after death. There was life. I had the religious epiphany I think many recovering drug addicts have when replacing one addiction for another. I threw myself into the church the same way I did when I was a kid except this wasn’t for a week during the summer. This was everyday, praying to something (or someone) I didn’t understand. Going to a church and blending in but feeling way out of place. Listening to people “speak in tongues” and then asking “God” why I couldn’t do that and did it mean I wasn’t good enough. I began to ask questions that no one was ready to answer (Why am I a drug addict, why am I queer, why am I not being filled with this Holy Spirit you speak of, does “God” hate me, how do I know this entity exists, what the hell is faith).

Eventually I stopped going.

I never stopped thinking about my spirituality. Always in the back of my mind I wondered “is there something more”. I’m a very scientifically based person but something else inside of me wants to believe that even that scientifically based info comes from a different beginning. I believe we are all connected. I believe the worm I save from being stepped on after a long rain is just as important as any human that walks this earth. I believe that the tree I hug in my backyard has feelings and it knows me when I touch it. I believe that when my dog Penny looks me in the eyes she’s actually trying to make a connection to my soul and more often than not, does.

I can’t deny that in the last 9 months on this journey, something wonderous has been happening. For so many years (my entire adult life) I shut people out. While it’s true I was afraid to let them in and see me for who I was, I was more afraid to let ME see me for who I was. As I began to lose the weight, I began to shed the fortress that surrounded me, protected me and kept my eyes from seeing the possibilities. As I began to lose the weight, I began to open up my heart and I’ll be damn if I didn’t start thinking about my walk with God. Is this the same epiphany I had 20 years previous? No. Did I immediately run to my local meglomaniac church and proclaim myself Born again? No. Did I throw myself down at the mercy of God and cry for his forgiveness? No. Did I quietly begin to contemplate my journey and begin to wonder if there was more to this LCJ than losing weight and running races? Yes. In doing so I’ve met some pretty awesome people who are on their own spiritual journey and more than willing to share the path with me. People I had no idea they even went to church or believed in God. When I shared my decision to go back to church and begin my exploration they said “We’ve been praying for you”.

I don’t know what this portion of my journey will look like. I’m not sure of what answers I’m looking for if any. I just know that there is a something pulling me to walk down this new path and if there is one thing I’ve learned…

You should never be too afraid to take that first step.





Confessions…

1 10 2010

I miss my fat self.

How crazy of a statement is that? But I realized this morning as I was trying to pull myself out of bed at the crack ass time of 3:30a so that I could eat before going to the gym at the other crack ass time of 5:00a so that I could do my first boxing class at the third and final crack ass time of 5:30a that I am in mourning again at the loss of not having my fat self around any more.

First let me clarify: I’m talking about missing my physical fat self. My emotional fat self is still very much alive and kicking in my brain. Everyday I am working on shedding the emotional pounds just as hard as I am working on shedding the physical pounds. To be totally honest with you, the physical shedding is WAY EASIER than the emotional shedding. That is a blog post for another day (making mental note)…

How in the world can someone miss their fat self? Shouldn’t I be parading my new body up and down main street proclaiming to anyone with two ears on the side of their head that I am happy with my new body and my new-found discoveries of things like clothes shopping, comfortable theater seats and the ability to run up 5 flights of stairs without even breaking a sweat? Yes of course I should be. But I also miss sitting around for hours and hours (and hours) playing some mindless MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game). Disconnecting from the my sad reality, my depression and my social anxiety. I miss going  out to eat every night and gorging myself to the point of disgust knowing that I’ll either make myself throw up to relieve the discomfort or I’ll go home and throw on some XXL pajama pants to cover the bloating. I miss sitting around on the couch for up to 4 – 5 hours every night watching every episode of Law and Order/NCIS/CSI Miami I can get my hands on. I miss going to the Woman’s plus size department store and aimlessly looking at all the clothes there and wondering if this particular pant/shirt combo will hide my fat any better than this pant/shirt combo…

It scares me to know that today I can walk into pretty much any store and shop for what I want. Just last week I needed to buy some nice clothes for dinner and I spent 20 minutes looking in the size 20 – 24 portion of the store before my husband gingerly led me over to the 10 – 14 side of the store where I stared in disbelief that I shop here now.

It scares me to know that today I would rather get up at 3:30am to go have my ass handed to me by Godfather only to return that evening for a nice session of boot camp run by an actual Military Drill Sargeant.

It scares me to know that I would rather count calories and stay within a healthy limit rather than eat mindlessly and rely on sticking something down my throat for those nights where I just.eat.too.much.

It scares me to know that I can actually miss being fat, depressed and isolated from my surrounding. It makes sense though. I live with my fat self for my entire life. My fat kept me safe. My fat helped me to make the excuses I needed in order to live a life of being lazy and not taking control of my own destiny. My physically fat self kept me down…

My physically fitter (cause I hate the word skinny) self helps me to stand up.

Stand up and face my fears.

Stand up and move forward.

Stand up and take control.

I will continue to mourn my fat self because that portion of my life is over. Physically that portion is dead. I still have a long way to go in shedding the emotional pounds. But I mourn today because when we allow ourselves to mourn the dead, we come to realize one thing: They are never coming back. We let our hearts feel heavy at the loss but then over time we heal and carry on. We can’t wish for that person to come back because we know it’s impossible.

Fat Tara is dead.

She is never coming back.

No matter how hard I wish for it to be true it’s not going to happen.

She is gone.

Forever.





30 days…

29 09 2010

Yesterday I weighed myself 4 times.

I’ve been able to go one week and not step on the scale. When  that week was over I went back to getting on that damn little square box 5 – 6 times a day. Next I went two weeks without getting on the scale. When that was over old behaviors crept in within a few days and I was back to weighing myself multiple times through out the day.

This is NOT a behavior I wish to keep.

I know I have a hard time setting boundaries for myself when there is no accountability involved. I can say I’m not going to get on the scale but if someone one isn’t involved personally in this challenge I know it would be good for a few days (as with the one week) but then old behaviors (thought patterns) begin to push their way back into my everyday life. I walked into the gym last night after weighing for the 4th time yesterday (one should not weigh themselves before boot camp for sure, since it makes it harder to feel good about the ass kicking you’re going to receive), on the verge of tears and asked Godfather for another no scale limit. He said two weeks. I said I could go longer…

He said one month.

This morning is my last official weigh in until October 29th. As I stepped on the scale for the final time at 4am I did so with a smile on my face and my heart a little lighter today. I’m hoping this will finally break the addiction (and I’m not afraid to call it an addiction) to the scale and the number that constantly defines who I am as a person.

This LCJ is about knowing what you need in order to make these changes stick for a lifetime. I need to break this addiction. So today is my final weigh for a month. I am going to make this happen.

Do you know what you need to make lifetime changes?

Are you willing to make it happen?





DDGBD #6 / Getting back to the basics.

26 09 2010

Goals to accomplish by December:
Finish trek tri in under 2 hours (done)
Dead lift 150 pounds (done)
Consistently run 10 minute mile (done)
Get into size 12 pants (done)
Make my bed everyday (hahahahahahahaha)

Proud moment:
I’m pretty sure that picture up there sums up my proud moment!

Need to work on the following:
I’m going back to the basics (more to follow down below) and counting calories again. That’s going to be my focus for a bit.

___________________________________________________________________________

So let’s talk about getting back to basics.

I’ve been on this LCJ for 9 months. I’ve learned a lot of things a long the way. I’ve learned that I can count calories and stay within the numbers alloted. I’ve learned that there is a difference between my brain being hungry and my body being hungry. I’ve learned how to set small goals that are achievable instead of focusing on the end goal which seemed so far away in the beginning. I’ve learned how to feel emotions and to stay in the moment for at least 85% of the time (which is damn good for me). I’ve learned how to push my plate away when I’m full and to say out loud “I’m eating mindlessly and I need to stop”. I’ve learned that I don’t have to count calories and I can eat intuitively when I take the necessary steps to keep myself prepared. I’ve learned what a serving size looks like (never big enough in my honest opinion) and most importantly…

I’ve learned to take control of my life.

I never really thought about what I would do once I reached my first goal weight of 170 pounds. In all honesty I never thought it would be here as fast as it seems to be approaching. I didn’t wake up one day in December of ’09 and think to myself “I’m gonna balls to the walls this LCJ and at the end of September I’m going to have lost close to 100 pounds”. In fact I think that one day in December ’09 went something a little more like “Well haven’t you just gotten yourself into a fine mess here. Look at yourself fat girl. This is it. Now or never. Do something. Anything. But please don’t let this be your life anymore.”

(Then I’m pretty sure I took myself to Jack in the Box.)

Here I am. So close to that first goal weight of 170 I can see it standing there waiting for me to cross the proverbial finish line and yet I’m still scared to get there. Scared because I don’t know what’s next. All I’ve known for the past 9 months is how to lose the weight that I’ve been carrying around since I was a little girl. All I’ve had in my mind for the past 9 months is that neon sign that says:

170

As I get closer to that number my anxiety about reaching this goal is going up exponentially. What’s going to happen once I reach that it? Will I sit back and think “okay that was awesome, now bring me cake” Will I secretly begin paying for a World of Warcraft account again because it’s okay to play when you weigh 170 pounds? Will I take myself on a one woman date through Kentucky Fried Chicken and attempt to get past third base as I double down a double down?

Probably not…

However, I am feeling myself getting angst about it and that in turn is keeping me from reaching that goal weight and moving on to bigger and better things. September has been my lowest weight loss since starting this journey. Before you jump up from your reading and scream “BUT TARA -5.2 POUNDS IS STILL A LOT”, I already know this and I’m not down playing the weight loss during this month. I’m just making a point here. I’m pretty sure I’m self sabotaging so that I don’t have to get to that goal weight. The odd thing is I’m not doing it the way most people would think of self – sabotaging. I’m not letting days go by without breaking a sweat or sneaking in a 2000 calorie meals in my car in some deserted parking lot and then going home in hopes my husband doesn’t smell the fries on my breath or notice the ketchup stain on my shirt.

In fact, it’s just the opposite. I don’t think I’m eating enough. I think I’m so scared to reach that goal weight of 170 that I’ve resorted to eating too little and that in turn is keeping me from losing any weight. I could be wrong. I could be stressed out from going back to work full time after being unemployed for the past four months and know that my body tends to gain weight during times of stress. Hell it could be because I’ve lost 85 pounds in the last 9 months and my body just needs a damn break.

But I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m not eating enough.

Which brings me to the point of all of this yammering. In the beginning I counted calories to make sure I didn’t eat too much. Now I’m going back to counting calories to make sure I am eating enough. I need to know that I’m not unconsciously trying to keep myself from reaching that goal of 170. Back to measuring and reading about serving sizes, logging my food and making sure that at the end of the day I’m eating the approximate 1500 – 2300 calories per day that my body needs to move towards that proverbial finish line. I need to stop worrying about whats suppose to happen next and focus on what’s happening today. I need to stay in the moment and know that it’s okay to move toward reaching that goal because whatever is supposed to happen next is going to be great and it will not involve cake, world of warcraft and doubling down myself on third base!!

So here’s to getting back to the basics and moving forward!