Other than my kitchen scale, I don’t own one. If I did, I’d be on it everyday, and if I weighed everyday, I’d think about it all the time. I know people who do (and clearly this approach works) but it’s not for me. Instead, I hop on the scales every week or two at the YMCA women’s dressing room en route to yoga class.
Hi, my name is Pam Anderson and my last weigh-in was over six weeks ago.
Between the week visiting my parents, a week’s relatively decadent vacation, and four weeks at our Pennsylvania house, I haven’t had access to a scale. My eating patterns may have been a little sloppy but not outrageous. My running schedule has been steady, but my overall exercise regime a little lighter. That’s it. That’s all it takes—six weeks of eating just a little more and exercising just a little less—for a few pounds to creep on.
A couple of weeks ago I noticed my belly was a little flabbier. My imagination?
Nope. Back in Connecticut for a funeral last week I slipped into a borderline dress and stared in the mirror at the undeniable crease where hip meets belly. My usual denial kicked in. I was pre-period. No lie—the brown pills were supposed to kick in the next day. And the dress was pretty tight to begin with. Hadn’t it just been dry-cleaned?
But yesterday I was in Connecticut again, and there sitting in Sharon’s bathroom was a set of scales she had just bought. I knew I needed to weigh, but I was afraid to face the number. Before stepping on the scales, I decided to try the dress on again. Although still a little snug, thank God it fit better than the week before. Now I was ready for the scales.
The numbers don’t lie. I had, in fact, packed on a few.
This next month or so, my mission is to shed those few pounds, a plan that went into immediate effect. Old friends stopped for lunch on their way through town. For dessert I served pound cake with ice cream and mixed berries. In my bowl, I omitted the first two components. En route to Cape Cod that same day David and I stopped at Tim Horton’s for afternoon tea. On road trips I might splurge on a donut. Today I opted for a modest tea biscuit. Dinner with our friends was steamed lobster and corn—no potatoes, no slaw, no dessert. Not bad on day one.
Day two was less successful. Since our Cape time was limited, we had lots of food ground to cover. Our first stop was Hole in One in North Eastham to taste their famous cinnamon donuts, then on to Blue Willow Bakery in Wellfleet for a sampling of their pastries—a pecan sticky bun, a cinnamon bun, and a buttery croissant split three ways.
It’s mid-afternoon, and I’ve still got lead belly. At this rate, it’s going to take longer than “a month or so” to get back to my comfort zone. To be continued…
Oh, Mama. I know.
My problem: I am the best crash dieter in the world. Need I remind us all of the summer I came home from six months in Greece, tried on my bridesmaid’s dress, only to stare incredulously down at a gaping 6-8 inches of space between one side of the zipper and the other? Cue two-a-days at the gym, enough Diet Coke to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool, a parade of camel lights, and a starvation plan that, if it hadn’t been so calculated, probably would have constituted some kind of human rights violation. 30 days and about 25 pounds later, the dress fit perfectly. But I was, no joke, demoralized. Of course, I went on to a senior year of beer and late night pizza, and gained all of it back, and then some. Sound like a familiar tale? Yeah, I thought so.
After graduation, I collected the shattered little pieces of my self-esteem and got my life together. But my weight loss plan still revolved around vigilant tracking of caloric intake and hours at the gym: pilates, weight lifting, running, stair master, and on and on. Unsurprisingly, it worked. Two years later, I’d never looked better. (Of course I still thought I needed to lose 15 pounds.) Then, I broke up with my boyfriend . . . .
Slowly, the pounds started creeping back on, not aggressively, and nothing like what is was before, but I started straining to zip the clothes I’d worked so hard to get into, and wincing at the sight of myself in pictures, yet again. Did I look fine? Sure. Maggy will complain to you that I have the oh-so-annoying ability to carry extra weight well. But I think it’s a curse–it allows that period of denial stretch just a liiittle bit longer.
It wasn’t four months ago that Mags and I had a good laugh in a J. Crew dressing room where I had one of those “I’ve had it!” moments. Bad shopping day, bad mirrors, worse lighting, and I come out with this: “I can’t wait for my next meal so I can NOT eat it.” We laughed until our bladders were screaming at us to stop. But, I am pretty sure I ate Greek yogurt for like two days–which is really not that funny.
The good news: I wised up quick, read the intro to your book (again), Mom. Then I looked in the mirror and gave myself a good verbal smack to the face, “Hey Shaz. Newsflash: This has never worked before. It will not work this time. You’re 24–enough with this teen magazine crash diet bullsh*t. Why don’t you start acting, and eating, like an adult?”
I have to say, at this point, I think I’m in a pretty good spot. The best thing I did, besides giving up Diet Coke, was stop tracking every single calorie. Sure, that whole process made me (uncomfortably) aware of what I was eating, but food was pretty much all I thought about. And now, for the first time in…oh, I don’t know, ever…I need to be reminded to eat sometimes.
For people like us–people who take so much pleasure in good food and wine, people who plan their vacations around their meals more than their activities, people who exercise, but whole-heartedly refuse to equate the act of eating to pulling into a gas station and fueling up–the weight issue is a constant battle. How much do you deny yourself? Are a few extra pounds on an otherwise healthy body the price you pay for a life well-lived?
I don’t know…
I feel ya, Momma. Most every woman in the world feels ya.
After two months of stress eating during exams followed by two holidays, I was also loath to step on the scale. But one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-six years: if you don’t want to do it, you probably should. It’s your subconscious saying, “Come along, you’ve had a bit of a rough patch. Let’s just get this over with and deal.” So I did. Like you I wasn’t happy, so I made a firm commitment to get back into some kind of routine.
There are so many excuses not to. My ankle, for example, is still a bit shaky three months after surgery, but that’s no excuse. I can’t run yet, but I’ve found I can do morning yoga (starting with 80 weighted crunches!). It’s light on my ankle. That I can do
About the food, you ultimately just have to cut back. For me, it’s a smoothie for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and not much in between. PLUS, doing the veggie thing two days a week—it’s actually more like three—has really helped me eat healthier.
Four weeks later and I’ve lost about six pounds— a lot of it water, I think. Now on to the hard work of tackling the real fat.
I can see how difficult it is for you right now. With Dad on sabbatical you’re sort of on permanent vacation. Sounds like you’re struggling most at teatime. What used to be a light cookie has turned into a donut? Hmmmm… maybe you should make a point to cut back there?
It’s also frustrating that we both live with skinny men. Even Andy put on a little weight during our holidays. But he’s started doing crunches and says he either “doesn’t have time to eat” at work or “forgets.” Why can’t that be me? I always have time to eat!
Hang in there, Mom. Focus on how good it feels after a good eating day. And keep writing about this process. I’m interested.
I’ve been hitting it hard for a week, and I have purposely not weighed myself. I feel thinner, lighter, and I don’t want the scale to ruin my day by revealing the ugly truth.
I get you!
Healthy balance is harder to achieve sometimes when you love to cook and eat. For me, it’s a quality of life choice. I’m not going to give up my wine, but there are things I’m willing to sacrifice, like heavy rich creamy dishes and apparently free time. My husband and I have been doing P90X for the summer and he’s dropped 45 pounds and is at his ideal range and has never looked better. I’ve dropped inches and fat and am strong like ox. I’ve found that personally I do better with someone just telling me exactly what to do. All I have to do is show up and hit play. And sweat a lot. Bonus that I can take the DVDs with me when I travel and it’s low-equipment. And there’s tons of variety within the program – core, yoga, plyometrics, weight training, etc. But it’s a huge time investment – an hour to an hour and a half six days a week. At 42, though, it just gets harder to stay in shape, so anything with that much variety that keeps things interesting is a plus in my book.
Ewww Scales! I have a history with scales. Goodness I used to obsess, the numbers! Oh the Numbers! I would like to say I “used to” have a problem with body image and weight and eating…but anyone who has been in that situation knows it never really goes away.
I have a comfort zone on the scale, but it is far lower than what I should really be weighing – I am aware of my disconnect between what I think I should weight and what I want to weigh – so, solution: NO SCALE Scales send me to a bad place. For me, it’s best to never touch them.
I have learned to listen to my body and go by how I feel. If my pants are fitting well and I feel good when I get dressed, Grand! If the waistband is a little tight and by bootie is a little more “rap video” that I like, time to lay off the ice cream.
It’s day by day, craving by craving. One day you eat a cookie, the next day you do not. Most of the time I’m good, sometimes I’m naughty. It’s all about give and take and being kind to yourself in the process.
Not to mention hitting the gym! I find that when I get into the groove of working out I’m happier all round. I start to look at my body in terms of muscle and not fat, I make better food choices, “why go eat Mc Donald’s if I just spent an hour at the gym, isn’t that counterproductive?” I have more energy and ‘gasp’ even get excited about bathing suit season!
For me, it’s all about small, daily, positive steps in the right direction. Big picture is too much to handle – take it one cookie at a time.
p.s. first time to your site, Love It! Thanks PW for linking it up 🙂 Glad to know we are in the same crazy weight boat together
Oh this is too funny, and true! At my work a group of about 5 of us have decided to do weekly weigh-ins here at work and write down our loss or gain to hold each other accountable. We started it in August and wanted to each lose 20lbs by Nov. It worked great for about a month or so but I haven’t stepped on the scale in about 2 weeks now….. I did so great on the last one that I don’t want that to change! lol
First time here…great site! Found you via PW. Some say weigh every day to keep on top of weight gain. Some say go by the way your clothing fits and not to obsess about a number. I say if chocolate made me skinny I would be on a runway somewhere!!! Kim
The Blue Willow is my favorite place! Their French Breakfast muffins are wonderful (PW’s get me though when I am back in Nebraska). I had no idea a post about weight was going to lead me to some of my favorite summer memories…thanks for that and I am with you on the battle of the sneaky punds!
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