Old Habits Die Hard

So I've been planning these vacations with several different friends. I am basically in charge of the planning and paying for my group. Naturally, my sense of "fairness" gene has kicked in, and I have this truly scary and anal spreadsheet going on that of course I shared.

So many thoughts: wish I didn't have to worry about money; is this compulsion to make things even a "Libra" thing, or does it come down to my OCD? Or is it my dad? Where to even begin on this one...

My family, when we were one, had a long standing tradition of nickel and diming (I almost said "dining"; how Freudian) each other to deal in a ritualistic hours long "settling the bill" game. We would go out as our disjointed, separate check, varying stages of life and economic strata to a restaurant. The lower strata would order like ice water and a cup of soup; the higher end would order appetizers and a main course and drinks. Then the check would arrive. The initial proposal: let's split it in half/quarters/whatever. I think not, Mr. Lobster Bisque. And with that, out would come pen and paper or calculators and the game would be on.

Add to this the fact that we all suck at math, and you can imagine the merriment.

So that is my background. It is hard to say, even now (years after my dad's death) how much this impacts my sense of fairness. I just know it's hard to split things still and find the place where it fells fair. And fairness is paramount, for some reason.

I think I'm OK with the division of spending from today. I am going to try really hard to forget over my vacation what the bill was for it. But habits do die hard, and it does seem to be the first thing I share when I bring it up to folks. Sigh.

Other old habits: dinner alone tonight. Didn't have the Marie Callander pot pie; didn't go on a total binge, so yay me. Did have chips and salsa and a sausage and peanuts (and I didn't even want them at that point. Double sigh. Still, tomorrow is another day.

Nearly Not Obese

So I went to the doctor today and she was very proud of me: my BMI is now 30.8, and apparently 30 is the point at which you are not considered "obese".

Obese is such a loaded word. When I tell people that I am actually obese, they almost always wave away the idea. Obese may not look as obvious on everyone, but it is undeniable.

Today was a good day in many ways. I checked a bunch of stuff off of this year's "bucket list". At my doctor appointment, I covered all the stuff I've been meaning to: mole checks, what to do about being old enough for a colonoscopy, PT for my carpal tunnel, and she made me commit to a plan for more exercise. I feel pretty pleased with myself, in that "there, I did it" with a big qualifier after it. It is easy enough to say stuff, harder to follow through. Still, I am firmly on the wagon, and I've bought a bike. I have a plan. I did a nice 3 point walk tonight after dinner. I've got 28 activity points chalked up for the June challenge I'm doing. I am on track. I like that.

So here's to being the lowest weight I've been in over 3 years, with the hope that I will get down to the next decade during the summer. I would love to see a weight in the 160s... What can I achieve during this summer? The sky is the limit.

Anchors, Away!

The topic a couple of weeks ago at WW was anchors: as in, what is my anchor? While I do seem well entrenched in program, I'm not sure that I've totally embraced anchoring. I usually get back into WW in stages, and some of the tools (or "tools", as I like to call them) are more for mocking than using. Or maybe that's one of the ways I shoot myself in the foot: not totally doing program.

But this time I have been pretty contemplative. I want this to be the last time I have 50 lbs to lose, and I want to get to lifetime and stay there. So I willing to be open, and to acknowledge that a million-dollar company with lots of researchers and dough behind it might just be onto something. 

The last couple of times I've done this successfully, I have basically used an Excel spreadsheet as my anchor. This was more an exercise of what could be than something that helped. I would track my weight and have scenarios of what it would be if I lost a certain weight per week, when would I reach my goal. But much of the time this was just frustrating and not helpful. Looking at what could have been after a "bad" week is not helpful. Having such a concrete goal that does not account for reality, like water weight or heat or being sick and not going to the gym just seemed to send me on benders of feeling like a failure.

I am on my third 10% key chain. The first one is the only one I got for having lost 10% sequentially, and sometimes I feel like it was the only honest one I earned. But last week, after reaching a low weight I have not seen in over 3 years, I allowed myself to earn a 25# charm, my second. And I acknowledged that even if I didn't lose the weight consecutively, it was earned, perhaps the hard way: in small steps forward and backward.

So I was looking at my keychain with its two 25 pound charms, and my Ganesh charm, and my namaste charm, and it occurred to me that it was, indeed, my anchor. The 2 WW pieces remind me of my journey, with all its ups and downs. Ganesh reminds me that I don't want to be a fat elephant-headed person with an enormous tummy (not really a threat, but still...). And my namaste charm reminds me that I need to chill more and not be so obsessive or stressed out. I drive everyday, and I use my keys multiple times. They will do perfectly as an anchor.

Mantra of the day: I deserve this

I have had a really rocky past couple of years in many ways,  particularly with WW. You might even say I've had my ups and down, and say it with and without irony; both would be true. Hard as it was this time to get back on the wagon and stay up there unreservedly, I have stuck with it. Looking back at my weight tracker this morning, while waiting for my award and preparing mentally what I would say, even though I gained and lost and regained the same 10 lbs over and over, I was showing up. Lame, you might say, but those in the know realize that as long as you attend the meetings, you are, even in a small way, holding yourself more accountable than if you dropped out for several weeks at a time and then came back to the fold.

This year, at around the first meeting of the year, I looked back and realized that last year I had lost a total of 22 lbs, most of which I gained back. Looking back at couple of years, I realized I started and ended several weight trackers at the exact same weight. My body was set in its ways, and until I actually started doing program, nothing would change. That was less of a revelation and more of a growing suspicion, but either way it did the trick.

Today I got my 25 lb charm. This is the least I've weighed since before I trashed my weight history (damn me anyway for reseting my app...). For the past several weeks, I have been congratulated by the staff at weigh in and I have resisted celebrating my loss. It was not the first time I lost--or gained, for the matter--these pounds. Today, finally cracking down below that low point, I allowed myself to feel proud of myself, to be acknowledged. That is so hard sometimes.

We watched an episode of Elementary last night where Sherlock was blowing off his one-year sober celebration. I could so relate. But his sponsor made a good point: celebrating these milestones isn't just about us, it is also about those who struggle alongside us. Acknowledging our success gives hope to others that, too, may also reach their goals. It was a timely lesson.

I have struggled before with my weird perfectionism, or the voices in my head that tell me that even though I was working hard, I wasn't working hard enough and so didn't deserve to succeed, or some such crap. This time I want to be easier on myself.

So bring on the kudos. I will try hard not to flinch or shrug, as usual, but to take it like a woman. And mean it, wholeheartedly.

I'm preparing for the zombie apocalypse and other odd rationalizations

You probably don't know this about me, but I like paranormal/sci fi fiction. As such, I watch "Revolution", which is not about zombies (that would be Walking Dead, which I actually don't watch), but about a dystopian future where there is no power (not to be confused with the books by Sterling, that I don't read).

If I haven't lost you yet with my sidetracking, you may be wondering why any of this is relevant. Well, my daughter has a plan about the zombie apocalypse, and in the back of my mind I have an alternate one for a powerless future. That future would require bicycles. And that brings me to my point: oddest reasons to buy something.

I own a bike, and I long since stopped riding it, and turned it over to my daughter. So if we were on the run, from zombies or Monroe's militia, how would I get around? I am almost sold on the idea of a new bike. And I can justify it by more than just zombies or power outages.

My bike, purchased back in the day that mountain bikes were hot, is of a configuration that irritates my carpel tunnel. So getting a "comfort bike" would be paramount. This is a bike that wouldn't put undue pressure on my wrists, and would allow me to ride in a more natural upright position. Most importantly, a bike would allow me to engage in regular exercise, which could only lead to fitness (or perhaps accidents and humiliation, but I hope not. )

Now all I have to do is let my thinking simmer a bit, until my reasoning feels organic or at least believable.

Ode to Doris Day: que sera, sera

If you could choose between losing a half pound per week consistently or losing up to 2 lbs (or possibly gaining up to 2 lbs) per week which would you choose?

Well apparently based on my reaction to my steady but minimal loss, my answer is the latter. Or at least I seem like I am much more likely to give up if I don't lose dramatically and consistently.

Unfortunately there is no guarantee. Even following program to the letter, you still may have a slight gain or a tiny loss. But I keep getting distracted by numbers and easily thwarted by a very slow loss. But really if I were to keep this up, a half lb a week is 2 lbs per month. 6 months would be 12 lbs. that would be really cool.

So baby steps? Being them on. I will take whatever I can get.

Emotional land mines ahead

I should know better: I weighed myself this morning, second in a row. Up. Despite being "good" yesterday. But as a seasoned weight watchers veteran, I know not only that being "good" is not the whole story, and that weight fluctuated for a number of reasons. The scale gives up one piece of feedback, and it's not always reliable, especially when the scale was bought for its looks.

Still, I could go either way: determined to walk my activity points and drink my water and do what I can to at least maintain this week, or go full on despair that I will ever lose weight and throw my hands up in surrender. Why the gamut of emotional polar opposites?

Let's check some other data points, shall we. Pants: nice and loose. New shirt: not clinging uncomfortably. I managed to get an activity point while watching tv last night with my mini tramp and 15 minutes of hooping. I have not gone crazy this week, an I have plenty of flex points left.