Mama's Boy

So, today I take Will in for his 4 year old physical (a few months late, but who's counting) and discover that he, too, may be facing his very own "Battle of the Bulge." Ok, in his defense, the dude is as active as active can be, and really... he is not overweight at all. He is just a big kid... and no, I don't mean that as an "I am big boned" excuse (although, I really think he and I both are). He weighs 52 pounds and is 3 feet 10 inches tall, so he is off the charts for height and weight. But today the doctor said that we'll have to monitor his weight.... not closely, but just watch it to make sure he becomes an healthy adult. And why the cause for concern? Because she can look right and me and say, "because you sure didn't."

Today, for the first time, I was faced with the fact that my son can suffer because of me. And not just in the "I will give you something to cry about" arena. But, because his genes are working against him. I am overweight. Mark is overweight. Poor, poor Will and Jack. Knowing that, I work pretty hard to teach them better eating habits than I have. I buy prepackaged 100 calorie snacks to ensure portion control, and I push healthy snacks like cheese sticks, yogurt and fruit. More often than not dinner comes from my Healthy Cooking magazines and always has a fruit or a vegetable as a side. Our milk is fat free and my dudes don't get soda. I still cut their juice with water, for God's sake, to try and limit sugar.

That being said... they like candy. They like sweets. And while I don't keep them in the house often, we are not a Wife Swap-bound extremist family either. Dairy Queen was had on Saturday night and while we haven't eaten them yet, we did buy ice cream sandwiches at the store the other day... just because Will wanted them. I do buy processed food and their breakfasts, in particular, are often frozen pancakes, pigs in a blanket and sugary cereals. Their lunches aren't much better in the homemade department. Jamie Oliver is probably rolling around in his organic garden at the fish sticks, frozen pizza and chicken nuggets in my freezer. We eat them each once a week, paired with fruit or veggies and a cheese stick... but still... we eat them.

So, today was the day when I see that even though I thought I was doing well... it isn't good enough. "Monitor his dairy," she said, "as it is the biggest culprit." What I heard was, "Failure, failure, failure. FAILURE!" I see it when I look in the mirror, but now I see it when I look at him, too. And despite my ever expanding waistline.... thinking about his is worse.

Dude, Where's My Will Power???

Ok, seriously, what is wrong with me? I was going great guns, as my high school friend Bess used to say, and suddenly my train derailed right off the track and into a convenience store filled with lovely Cheetos, crunchy Fritos and even a Rice Krispie treat or two. Why is it that once you stray, you can never find your way back? I should have left a breadcrumb trail, but I inhaled every last morsel. What am I, the Tiger Woods of diets. Not just one fling, not just one mistress... I have fourteen over a multi-year period. It's pathetic.

So, we went on a road trip to see family in Iowa and of course, I veered. Someone once said (or posted on Facebook) that getting a salad from McDonald's is like paying a hooker for a hug. So, I don't do it. Therefore that weekend turned to crap. But, I didn't care. I firmly believe that calories don't count when consumed outside your state of residence. But, when I got back, I never got back on the treadmill. I have yet to pour myself a glass of water and what's worse... I think I am actually eating more!!!


The downside to having Mark here it that I am not totally swamped with kid crap. Don't get me wrong, that is the upside to having him here too, but I find myself snacking. I never snack. When it is just me and the kids there isn't time. I would wait til dinner and gorge myself (not an approved eating method either) but now I feel like I am eating all day long. I have time to sit on the couch and eat bon bons. Ok, I don't have bon bons, but I have found that trail mix makes a fine substitute. Some in the alcohol addiction world would say that identifying the problem is the first step, but who is going to put a gun to my head and make me take the others? Because right now I can see that needs to be done, but I can't get my ass off the couch to do it. HELP!

Dude, Where's My Car?

Food Journal:

Breakfast: Half a peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat bread. At least, Mark said there was PB&J, I couldn't really taste it. Apparently he was trying to rally from this incident the day before.

Lunch: Two slices of sausage and pepperoni pizza and carrot sticks.

Snack: Grapes.

Snack Number 2: Oops. 100 calorie snack bag of chocolate chip cookies.

Dinner: Tiny amount of soup bowl stuffed cabbage. Totally healthy dinner, but so damn spicy I couldn't eat it, so tiny portion due to burnt taste buds not self control. Followed with one slice of whole wheat bread and peanut butter smear. This smear smeared by me, so I could actually taste it.

Snack: Small Choco Cherry Love Blizzard from Dairy Queen. Double oops. But.... could have been worse, and was a special occasion blizzard (or so I justify to myself).


Exercise Journal:

30 minutes on Professional Trainer Setting 1 on my treadmill.


Dude, Where's My Car?

So, as I mentioned above, I treadmilled yesterday. It was my first time, and I don't really know how to work the buttons. Lots of up and down arrows, lots of red dots in lines and lots of number point number displays. What are we upping and downing? What are we dotting? And what point what means what??? So, at first, I did about 10 minutes of walking at a decent pace on a flat surface. Then I found the program settings.

Woo hoo! Program 1. I walk for a couple more minutes flat and even... then BAM! I was run-ning. (I want to type that like Forest Gump says it, but that is hard to do). DOWN ARROW! DOWN ARROW! Ok, swift pace, walking flat. Feeling the burn a little. Mostly proud that this exercise deal is not that tough. Suddenly I feel like I am flying. Wait.... I am not flying... I am suddenly raising up in the air. I am not walking flat anymore, I am walking up a slight hill. AHHHHHH!!! RUNNING AGAIN!!!! DOWN ARROW!!!! DOWN ARROW!!!! Ok, walking at a swift pace up a slight hill. Again, not too bad. In fact, able to hold a telephone conversation while walking up the... MOUNTAIN! I AM NOW CLIMBING FREAKING PIKE'S PEAK!!! Suddenly Mt. KillaLYNNjaro has appeared in my bedroom. AND I AM RUNNING UP IT! DOWN ARROW!!! DOWN ARROW!!!! Ok... brisk walk up steep hill. Sweating now. Breathing is harder now. Phone conversation much harder now. Watching the clock for my thirty minutes to be up much closer now. And, then I'm done.

Work out number one, check. Heart still beating, check. Lungs still functioning, check. Legs turned to jelly, check. Next time I need to climb a mountain, I'm bringing my car! CHECK!

Same Fat Size... Same Fat Diet...

OMG! I haven't written or dieted since... well... MONTHS ago. I gave up and I gave up good. I stopped any and all moratoriums on junk and just went for it. You know that saying "go big or go home?" Well, I am big and I am at home. But, here is the good news. Mark lost his job! I know, how is that good news? Well, in this case yes... because we are going to be too broke to be fat!

There is a Chris Rock comedy sketch where he talks about how America is the only country in the world that gets to be fat. Other countries are too poor for it! They are lucky to be able to afford some rice and a bean or two. We can afford two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame bun. Plus fries and a coke. Yum. But, not my family of five. It is time to tighten our belts, both our figurative belt on our budget and our literal belts on our waists.

No more late night Taco Bell runs. No more "I don't want to cook our grilled chicken so let's have Fazoli's heart attack inducing ravioli and coronary bi pass bread sticks." And, most of all... no more ice cream pints just because it was a bad day, or just because I am sick, or just because it's Tuesday. When I go out with the girls I will eat at home first! When I pick Will up from school, we will eat at home not Sonic drive thru. A play place will go back to being an outdoor playground, instead of a plastic germ farm attached to a fat food shack. And yes, I realize that I put fat food and not fast.

So, today is the first day of the rest of my impoverished life. Sure, Mark will be employed again some day. SOON! I hope! Please! But, this is a lesson learned regardless. The money we spend on food is insane and our clothing size is equally worrisome. Weigh in number one will be on Monday, and without extra dough for cookie dough, it ought to go well. After all, what better reason is there to diet but poverty!?!?!

We got back together...

I know, I know. I know exactly what you are going to say. He's not good for you... He will just hurt you in the end (the rear end)... I should be strong enough to just walk away. But, I'm not.

I am a diet blog failure. Ben, Jerry and I have met up a couple times since the initial breakup. But, it's even worse than that. I am also seeing Taco Bell and have a little affair going with Perkins leftover Pumpkin Cream Pie. Really... I am juggling that many. I have whored myself around the entire junk food aisle, spent time with a bacon cheeseburger or two, entertained a million french fries, don't get me started on my one night stand with movie theater popcorn (plus butter) and I single handedly made love to an entire cru d ete platter on Saturday (and yes, while they are veggies, it still doesn't count when they are skinny dipping in enough ranch to cover the Titanic).

I told myself that I would come back to my senses and get back on the wagon, but you know what? I haven't yet. Today was going to be my day. The treadmill is working again, the shoulder injury only hurts at night, I am not taking pills to sleep anymore, and Monday is a perfect day to start. But, then I had chicken teriyaki meatballs for breakfast (and let's just interject that it took me longer to Google the word and spell it correctly on this post than it did to actually eat the entire plateful) and I am eyeing another roll around with the Pumpkin Cream pie.

I know, though. I hear what you're saying even before you say it. I know that I have no business doing these dirty deeds, but I can't get my mindset back in diet mode. Help! I am self destructing and it's chocolate flavored (and pumpkin.... and salty.... and ketchupy...)

A long, long weigh to go...

Forgive me oh readers, for I have sinned. It has been several days since my last post and I can tell you why. I gave up. I didn't diet.

I could sit here and blame the shoulder pain, which is part of it, and then I can blame the feeling that once you go off track it is just easier to stay there, or I can even blame hormones. I have been a crabby patty these last few days and eating my baggie of almonds just pissed me off. I wanted something else instead... like lasagna! I have to eat to take a pain pill, which I cannot sleep without, and by the end of the day I don't want a salad or a sandwich thin with light tuna. Yo quiero Taco Bell... so yo ate it. A lot. So, I find myself on a Wednesday Weigh In not going down, but instead, going up.

I am not exercising. I am not playing outside much. I am sitting on a couch feeling sorry for myself because every inch my arm moves feels like it's being ripped apart. And, then I eat something. Even today, I had a fine breakfast and weighed in, vowing to do a better job. And then I took the boys to the store to buy some groceries for a chili cook off at Mark's work tomorrow, and by the time we were heading home... I stopped at Burger King for lunch. Initially it was only for the boys, but the idea of bringing them in the house, unpacking groceries, ugh... I had a fried chicken sandwich value meal with french fries and a Diet Coke. I want to say that I am going back on track, but I feel like my train is veering out of control and Harrison Ford is about to jump off before it explodes. Jump, Harrison, jump, because Calista Flockhart I am not. So, without futher ado, here are my results.

Weight: Up 2 pounds.

Total Lost: 5 pounds.

Pounds needed to reach first goal: 25.

Crap.

Mayday... mayday!!!!

Crash alert, crash alert... attention tower, we are going down in flames. Emergency personnel to the runway, stat! Yesterday I was AWFUL. I completely let go of any attempts to diet... and not because I wanted to... but because I just didn't have it in me to care. I found myself completely ambivalent about anything and everything diet related... which is surprising coming off a 7 pound loss. It's because I injured my shoulder and the pain is just amazing. And, let me just interject that in my personal opinion... I am no sissy. I can play with pain, but it hurts. It HURTS!!! A lot. And in dealing with my ouchie, I sunk into a pit of despair. I ate a normal breakfast, but at lunch I just didn't have it in me to make tuna or something healthy. I nuked leftover Chinese noodles and ate them straight from the container. When I wanted a snack, I didn't care about getting something healthy. I ate corn chips... and potato chips... and a nut and chocolate trail mix. Yep, I hoovered in the pantry's contents like it was going out of style. And, I don't even care for potato chips or corn chips. I ate because my arm hurts. Who does that? Then, I cooked my family a healthy whole wheat pasta dinner with turkey sausage and veggies... and personally opted for a bacon cheeseburger (with mayo) and fries (dipped in Ranch dressing). And at bedtime, I ignored the healthy Fit and Active ice cream treats in the freezer and went for the thick chocolate covered drumstick instead. Two of them. Thank god there isn't a Baskin Robbins around here, or I would have robbed them of 30 of their flavors. (I don't like Rocky Road). I don't know how a sore arm translates into "screw my diet" but it did... LOUD and CLEAR.

That's right... My name is Lynn and I'm a depression eater.