Because I need to do SOMETHING while I'm watching mah stories.
Cupcake Calendar - April 2011
Cousins Calendar - September 2011
9.29.2010
9.26.2010
12W12S2P Update: Pending
Can't give you a weight loss update at this point because I can't get an accurate reading right now -- let's just say "technical difficulties" and leave it at that. Instead I will give you the recipe for what we had for dinner tonight and hope it is sufficient for now.
Skinny Stuffed Shells
Makes 15 shells. Approximately 115 calories per shell. Average serving = 3 shells (350 calories). [Edited because I can't do math!]
Balsamic Roasted Squash
Makes about 4 cups. Approximately 40 calories per cup.
Skinny Stuffed Shells
- 15 jumbo shells
- 15 ounces fat-free ricotta cheese
- 1 cup shredded 2% milk mozzarella cheese
- ¼ cup shredded Parmesan or Romano cheese
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 cup frozen chopped spinach, thawed
- ¼ cup shredded carrots (optional)
- salt and pepper, to taste
- 1 egg, lightly beaten
- 26 ounces (1 jar) pasta sauce
Makes 15 shells. Approximately 115 calories per shell. Average serving = 3 shells (350 calories). [Edited because I can't do math!]
Balsamic Roasted Squash
- 1 medium zucchini, sliced
- 1 yellow summer squash, sliced
- 1 red bell pepper, sliced
- salt and pepper, to taste
- ½ tablespoon olive oil
- ½ tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Makes about 4 cups. Approximately 40 calories per cup.
9.22.2010
Calendars - August 2011
Oh, yeah. THESE.
Just because I haven't been posting doesn't mean I haven't been WORKING. (And I'm still only halfway ... eesh.)
9.21.2010
12W12S2P Update: "Can't" Is A Four-Letter Word
I have complained before about Weight Watchers, and how I basically hate it, even though I know it is a program that works for a lot of people, including me at one point. But it's really hard for me to get behind a corporation, part of the diet-and-fitness-industrial-complex, that makes money by featuring an Academy Award winner in a commercial whose tagline is, essentially:
"Before Weight Watchers, my whole world was 'can't.'"
Other people have put this better than I could -- see here -- but I think it's worth mentioning just the same. I went on this dumb diet for my own reasons, which even I don't know, but I assure you that nothing about me will be different when I'm finished except my bra size. I don't actually feel any better about myself, because not eating doesn't fix self-esteem problems that had nothing to do with the number on the scale in the first place. I've admitted that I'm probably more neurotic now, more self-conscious, than I have been in a long time, because people are noticing me now, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don't think that wearing a single-digit pant size is going to magically repair all the damage that 36 years of living my own crazy life has caused.
The article I link to comes off, a little bit, as bashing Jennifer Hudson, which is not the writer's intent, I don't think. But I do agree with her that it is not a big leap to watch the commercial and think, "Really? Your 'whole world was "can't?"' Really? The Oscar, the Grammy, the baby, all of that? Was 'can't?'" I nodded my head when I read, "Weight Watchers wants us all to believe that there is no such thing as success or happiness unless you’re thin." Because I believe that it's true. The weight-loss industry does not make billions of dollars a year by basing its business plan on people loving themselves at any size.
Sometimes, like now, the mixed messages make me want to cry. One of the biggest reasons why I wanted to make a lifestyle change in the first place was to set a good example for my daughter: eat healthy, move healthy, be healthy, the way we want her to be. But if she sees me measuring rice and counting pistachios and eating only a sandwich for dinner while everyone else is eating pork chops, what is that telling her? Is it telling her the same thing that it tells me -- that it doesn't matter what we do, because someone will find a reason to find us inadequate in some way? Too tall, too thin, too curly-headed? Too short, too fat, too poker-straight?
What do you do when your three-year-old asks you, "Why?" and you don't answer, because you can't?
"Before Weight Watchers, my whole world was 'can't.'"
Other people have put this better than I could -- see here -- but I think it's worth mentioning just the same. I went on this dumb diet for my own reasons, which even I don't know, but I assure you that nothing about me will be different when I'm finished except my bra size. I don't actually feel any better about myself, because not eating doesn't fix self-esteem problems that had nothing to do with the number on the scale in the first place. I've admitted that I'm probably more neurotic now, more self-conscious, than I have been in a long time, because people are noticing me now, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don't think that wearing a single-digit pant size is going to magically repair all the damage that 36 years of living my own crazy life has caused.
The article I link to comes off, a little bit, as bashing Jennifer Hudson, which is not the writer's intent, I don't think. But I do agree with her that it is not a big leap to watch the commercial and think, "Really? Your 'whole world was "can't?"' Really? The Oscar, the Grammy, the baby, all of that? Was 'can't?'" I nodded my head when I read, "Weight Watchers wants us all to believe that there is no such thing as success or happiness unless you’re thin." Because I believe that it's true. The weight-loss industry does not make billions of dollars a year by basing its business plan on people loving themselves at any size.
Sometimes, like now, the mixed messages make me want to cry. One of the biggest reasons why I wanted to make a lifestyle change in the first place was to set a good example for my daughter: eat healthy, move healthy, be healthy, the way we want her to be. But if she sees me measuring rice and counting pistachios and eating only a sandwich for dinner while everyone else is eating pork chops, what is that telling her? Is it telling her the same thing that it tells me -- that it doesn't matter what we do, because someone will find a reason to find us inadequate in some way? Too tall, too thin, too curly-headed? Too short, too fat, too poker-straight?
What do you do when your three-year-old asks you, "Why?" and you don't answer, because you can't?
9.19.2010
12W12S2P Update: -26
I lost another three pounds this week, for a total "official" loss of 26 lbs., with under 100 lbs. to go until I get to my goal weight. Just under 100 lbs. -- 99, to be exact -- but still. I guess this means I'm 20% of the way to my "official" goal weight ("official" being in quotes because I've actually lost more than that, but I haven't been keeping track this whole time).
Ninety-nine pounds to go is still a big scary number, but it's double digits, so I'll take it.
Today I am celebrating by having the biggest dessert I've had since I started: a slice Edwards Crème Pie with Reese's. And let me tell you: those 350 calories are going to be WORTH IT.
Thanks for joining me on this journey, by the way. I still have a long way to go, so I hope I don't bore you too much.
Ninety-nine pounds to go is still a big scary number, but it's double digits, so I'll take it.
Today I am celebrating by having the biggest dessert I've had since I started: a slice Edwards Crème Pie with Reese's. And let me tell you: those 350 calories are going to be WORTH IT.
Thanks for joining me on this journey, by the way. I still have a long way to go, so I hope I don't bore you too much.
9.15.2010
12W12S2P Update: STFU, N00bz
Two more pounds down this week. Officially down 23 lbs., unofficially down at least 40 lbs. I had to give up my one major indulgence, my Mountain Dew, my tiny little baby can of Mountain Dew, to get this far, but it was either that, or give up dessert after dinner, and I decided that I love ice cream sandwiches too much. A real Sophie's choice, that: soda or dessert? I've cast my lot in with the Dairy Gods. I hope they don't let me down.
I'm getting to a point now where I have to give in and buy new clothes, because everything is too big and too saggy and too long and too baggy, but I am hoping that I can hold on for a little while longer. There are some sweaters in my closet that I think I can make work, and sweater season isn't too far off. Pants are an ongoing problem -- I still have a jelly-belly, but no so much with the thunder thighs any more, yet I have to get a bigger size pants than I actually "need" so I can get them buttoned. I keep digging in the closet, hoping for hidden treasures.
People at work are starting to notice, starting to talk, and it's making me feel paranoid and ugly. To my face they are complimentary, but their eyes are dead and cold, or worse: angry, hot, vicious. I see them watching me, analyzing everything I eat, judging my choices. Especially on Wednesdays, when I allow myself a "splurge" for breakfast, usually two frozen waffles or pancakes, with low-calorie syrup and turkey breakfast sausage. There are a lot of Weight Watchers here, and they are using a different math than I am to count. I can tell what they are thinking: How is that diet food? I thought the same thing, myself, not all that long ago.
I can hear the whispers, too: She spends a lot of time in the bathroom. Maybe I am hypersensitive, but I get the implication. People think I have an eating disorder, probably bulimia. Never mind that I don't, that no one has ever seen or heard me do what they are suggesting that they think I do. They wonder why I can eat waffles for breakfast and still keep losing, while they eat popcorn for every meal and don't. The Weight Watchers have been grumbling. Losses are slow for them now. Some of them have stopped losing all together. But I have not, so it must be me who is doing something unseemly or untoward or unfair. They think I am cheating.
No, I am not cheating. I am just drinking a lot of water, so I have to pee a lot. Throwing up is gross. Seriously.
My heart hurts when I think about it, and my head pounds, and I want to tell them all to shut up and mind their own damn business. This thing I am doing, this lifestyle change, this is HARD WORK. It's really, really hard. Especially for an emotional eater whose peaks and valleys in appetite levels have much to do with feelings and fatigue. I spend a part of every day stressed out, and so I spend a part of every day hungry. I must pass a hundred restaurants when I am driving home from work, and I can smell every molecule of deliciousness that they are serving. Chinese food, Mexican, steaks, pasta, white sauce, butter, fresh baked rolls with olive oil and rosemary. Some days are worse than others, when I need to exercise every ounce of self-control that I have to not pull off the road at the next exit and stop at the first place I see and just chow down until I explode.
And some days are worse than that, even: some days, I don't want to eat anything at all, just to show these bitches that I can, just to piss them off, just to be petty and spiteful, just to make them feel as ugly as they make me feel. Sometimes I feel like I can survive the day by doing nothing but smelling other people's food. These are the days that make me wonder -- do I have a problem? Do I really have some kind of disorder, maybe one that does not have a name yet? Probably I do. Probably we all do, a little bit. How we handle our disorders is more important than the disorders themselves, though.
Of course I want to say that it doesn't bother me, but obviously it does. The superficiality of all of it is disgusting, frankly. I am not trying to change anything about myself except how I look. Who I am is fundamentally not changing. Why should the rest of me change? There is nothing wrong with who I am. Do other people change their personalities when they change their dress size? Do people think that I am so terrible a person that when I lose more weight the demon inside will surface and slay them all? Why? That doesn't make any sense.
Although, neither does eating popcorn for every meal and expecting to lose 20 lbs. overnight. So I suppose none of this should surprise me.
I'm getting to a point now where I have to give in and buy new clothes, because everything is too big and too saggy and too long and too baggy, but I am hoping that I can hold on for a little while longer. There are some sweaters in my closet that I think I can make work, and sweater season isn't too far off. Pants are an ongoing problem -- I still have a jelly-belly, but no so much with the thunder thighs any more, yet I have to get a bigger size pants than I actually "need" so I can get them buttoned. I keep digging in the closet, hoping for hidden treasures.
People at work are starting to notice, starting to talk, and it's making me feel paranoid and ugly. To my face they are complimentary, but their eyes are dead and cold, or worse: angry, hot, vicious. I see them watching me, analyzing everything I eat, judging my choices. Especially on Wednesdays, when I allow myself a "splurge" for breakfast, usually two frozen waffles or pancakes, with low-calorie syrup and turkey breakfast sausage. There are a lot of Weight Watchers here, and they are using a different math than I am to count. I can tell what they are thinking: How is that diet food? I thought the same thing, myself, not all that long ago.
I can hear the whispers, too: She spends a lot of time in the bathroom. Maybe I am hypersensitive, but I get the implication. People think I have an eating disorder, probably bulimia. Never mind that I don't, that no one has ever seen or heard me do what they are suggesting that they think I do. They wonder why I can eat waffles for breakfast and still keep losing, while they eat popcorn for every meal and don't. The Weight Watchers have been grumbling. Losses are slow for them now. Some of them have stopped losing all together. But I have not, so it must be me who is doing something unseemly or untoward or unfair. They think I am cheating.
No, I am not cheating. I am just drinking a lot of water, so I have to pee a lot. Throwing up is gross. Seriously.
My heart hurts when I think about it, and my head pounds, and I want to tell them all to shut up and mind their own damn business. This thing I am doing, this lifestyle change, this is HARD WORK. It's really, really hard. Especially for an emotional eater whose peaks and valleys in appetite levels have much to do with feelings and fatigue. I spend a part of every day stressed out, and so I spend a part of every day hungry. I must pass a hundred restaurants when I am driving home from work, and I can smell every molecule of deliciousness that they are serving. Chinese food, Mexican, steaks, pasta, white sauce, butter, fresh baked rolls with olive oil and rosemary. Some days are worse than others, when I need to exercise every ounce of self-control that I have to not pull off the road at the next exit and stop at the first place I see and just chow down until I explode.
And some days are worse than that, even: some days, I don't want to eat anything at all, just to show these bitches that I can, just to piss them off, just to be petty and spiteful, just to make them feel as ugly as they make me feel. Sometimes I feel like I can survive the day by doing nothing but smelling other people's food. These are the days that make me wonder -- do I have a problem? Do I really have some kind of disorder, maybe one that does not have a name yet? Probably I do. Probably we all do, a little bit. How we handle our disorders is more important than the disorders themselves, though.
Of course I want to say that it doesn't bother me, but obviously it does. The superficiality of all of it is disgusting, frankly. I am not trying to change anything about myself except how I look. Who I am is fundamentally not changing. Why should the rest of me change? There is nothing wrong with who I am. Do other people change their personalities when they change their dress size? Do people think that I am so terrible a person that when I lose more weight the demon inside will surface and slay them all? Why? That doesn't make any sense.
Although, neither does eating popcorn for every meal and expecting to lose 20 lbs. overnight. So I suppose none of this should surprise me.
9.04.2010
12W12S2P Update: 21 Down
As of my weigh-in this morning, I am officially down 21 lbs., and unofficially I think the total is 40 lbs. I'm going to celebrate by having a Dorito today, and I might maybe buy a hunk of some sexy cheese at Wegman's and share it at my uncle's Labor Day picnic today.
Some things I have learned that I can't live without on this diet:
Not sure what I'm going to change up this week. Hopefully this weekend I can get in some decent exercise (I will be swimming three days in a row, whee!), so maybe I won't have to think about it for a few days.
Some things I have learned that I can't live without on this diet:
- Frozen chopped spinach -- yes, I know fresh is better, but a 1-lb. bag of frozen chopped spinach lasts me a month or more. I throw a handful in with my Egg Beaters, and I throw a couple of handfuls in with spaghetti sauce. Doesn't add much to the flavor but there's lots of iron, it adds color, and it's a nice little shot of extra veggies.
- Egg Beaters -- I'm using the Garden Veggie flavor now, but Cheese and Chive is also very tasty. I used to eat two eggs every morning on the weekends, but ½ cup of Egg Beaters is approximately the same amount of food, and it has fewer calories than one whole egg. Which means more calories available for meat and cheese and delicious, delicious English muffins.
- Sweetened dried cranberries -- I'm not a huge fan or plain Wheaties or corn flakes, but 1½-2 tablespoons of these bad boys really help. And they are delicious mixed in with raisin bran, too.
- Pistachios -- I'm getting to the point where I don't have a whole lot of calories left for snacks, but these suckers are worth it. My favorite kind? Everybody's Nuts European Roast.
Not sure what I'm going to change up this week. Hopefully this weekend I can get in some decent exercise (I will be swimming three days in a row, whee!), so maybe I won't have to think about it for a few days.
9.01.2010
12W12S2P: Dietary Weirdness
Lost another two pounds last week -- go me! Now I get 1,474 calories a day, which seems like a scarily low number, but I've been okay so far. Obviously it's easier on days when I do some kind of activity, like spending a half-hour "power shopping" through Wegmans, only stopping when necessary to pick out the best broccoli crowns, and to investigate some bread options. According to Lose It, that burned 132 calories, and I don't doubt it -- if you've ever been in a high-end grocery store at dinner time, you know it is a full-contact aerobic activity.
I've been hungry lately, craving salty carb-y foods in particular, which means I am either tired (possible) or PMS-ing (also possible). My history shows that there is nothing in the world more delicious than Fritos when I have PMS, and I tend to get a "bottomless pit" hunger, so I am trying to keep up the water and diet decaf tea consumption so I don't fall back into bad habits. String cheese and carefully planned ice cream selections (i.e., 100 calorie Skinny Cow truffle bars) should help with that, I hope.
A couple of random things that I wanted to mention in case I need them for my therapist later:
I've been hungry lately, craving salty carb-y foods in particular, which means I am either tired (possible) or PMS-ing (also possible). My history shows that there is nothing in the world more delicious than Fritos when I have PMS, and I tend to get a "bottomless pit" hunger, so I am trying to keep up the water and diet decaf tea consumption so I don't fall back into bad habits. String cheese and carefully planned ice cream selections (i.e., 100 calorie Skinny Cow truffle bars) should help with that, I hope.
A couple of random things that I wanted to mention in case I need them for my therapist later:
- Since I started the most recent "iteration" of this plan -- 300/400/600 calories for breakfast/lunch/dinner -- I have almost completely stopped using sauce when we have pasta. I didn't eat a lot of sauce before anyway, but now whenever I have some kind of macaroni (like last night, when we had ravioli for supper) I top mine with canned diced tomatoes, a little bit of Parmesan cheese, and ... BUTTER. Seriously. Sometimes it's margarine, if I don't have the calories to spare. But lately I've been putting some kind of butter-ish substance on my noodles. Never very much, usually just a tablespoon for 3-4 cups of cooked pasta, but some nonetheless. I never did this before. I don't know why I thought of this, but I kind of think it came from Top Chef Masters. Weird.
- Something else I would have never done before, but which I love now: Cooked fettuccine tossed with a small amount of butter, a single-serve pack of frozen peas (cooked), a couple of slices of lunch meat ham or Canadian bacon, cut into strips and heated for a few seconds in a skillet, and a tablespoon of Parmesan cheese. (Regular bacon would work too but we don't have it often.) Seriously, it's delicious and quick and surprisingly satisfying.
- Today for breakfast I had a whole frozen bagel -- DECADENCE! DEPRAVITY! -- that I toasted and schmeared with 1 wedge of light Laughing Cow cheese and a slice of Canadian bacon, nuked for 30 seconds. I don't know if it's because I had a whole bagel, or because it was cheese, or what, but jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, was that DELICIOUS.
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