FINALLY!

This just in! I worked out for 45 minutes. Bike, free weights, situps.

That is all. Go on about your day.

Farewell, Moo Cow F*ck Milk and Hello, Soy Juice!

Never in a million years did I ever envision myself wearing this label!

But, here it is: after years of hearing from friends, the media and yes, even Oprah, that Veganism might be worth pursuing (at least as a means of cleansing/recalibrating my system) -  I've fast gone from curious skeptic to full-blown believer. W-O-W!

First, there are the vanity aspects. Just 5 days in and my skin looks ridiculous. It's the dead of winter and I'm glowing and barely need any moisturizer at all! On top of that, I've already lost 2 pounds. My digestion has regulated and, not to be gross, I'm pooping like clock-work up to 3x a day. (Of course, I'm also tooting like never before - but Bean-o helps to take care of that problem.)

As for the food, fortunately, I'm a veggie lover. I also really love fruit. Soy, if seasoned correctly, also works well with my body/tastebuds and satisfies the craving for protein. A lot of the foods I already eat regularly are vegan or easy to make vegan. Homemade granola + vanilla soy milk for breakfast = heaven. I heart veggie burgers with a little yellow mustard. Carrots and homemade hummus are snack crack to me. I love veggie soups. Oh, and I discovered veg-based Wacky Mac this weekend and it's pretty damn delish. I'm even actually looking forward to testing some new recipes. The only thing I'm a little wary of are the pretend meat products. Soy chicken cutlets aren't made of chicken - wtf? I don't know if I need to seek out pretend meat in order to feel truly satisfied. Still, I'm willing to try all of it. Besides, I'm already drinking "soy juice" masking itself as soy milk. Gotta love this Lewis Black bit from which the title of this post was born: 

In terms of the ethics, I come from a family with dairy farming past and, in one case, present. I have no illusions about my place on the food chain and that some animals are put on this earth to quite literally sustain the lives of other animals. I also have no ethical qualms about humanely slaughtering animals for such puposes (ie: Temple Grandin style slaughterhouses are fine with me). I also  have no intention of shunning meat or dairy from my life completely.  I will not give up fish or sushi. I can't imagine my life without my dad's Oyster Stew come Christmas Eve. 

Still, just a few days without what in retrospect was at least 3-5 servings of meat/cheese on average (milk at breakfast, yogurt at lunch, grated cheese on pasta/lean meats at dinner, butter on bread or eggs in baked goods) - I am really intrigued by how great I feel and am interested to see where this leads. 

I'll keep y'all posted. Let me know if you have had experience with vegan/vegetarianism yourself - or if you think this is just another primrose path to wellness ;-)

Confessions Of A Lethargic Mind

So...

I haven't worked out in a while. Like a WHILE a while. And it's not from lack of opportunity either. First off, I work at home and can work out pretty much whenever I want because I make my own hours. Second, I have a Wii Fit, a Nordic Track, an exercise bike and an exercise ball with a resistance band. Oh, and the apartment community where we live even has a fully stocked gym that we can access for free!

Unfortunately, if I'm being truly honest, I haven't worked out like I really meant it in months. Sure, I got on the bike and did a little pedaling a few times. I lifted some weights. I did a few sit-ups. But, the regular, daily exercise...hell, I don't think I've really committed to it since before our LAST vacation in late September.

I've been eating well for the most part though. I've been making meals and snacks, eating lots of veggies and fruit and haven't been mindlessly munching away the days like I used to. That's precisely why my weight loss situation is more stagnant than a complete reversal.

Still, without the regular workouts, the weight has been steadily creeping back on.

So, why am I still sitting here? Why am I not working out? It is completely mad! I want to feel better. I want to look better. I'm already sacrificing on my diet (though, I'm so used to it now that it rarely feels like sacrifice unless I have a raging case of PMS). Why in the hell can't I manage 30-45 measly minutes of cardio a day plus a little resistance work here and there?

I know I'm not the only one who's legs turn to lead at the mere thought of exercise! What gets you going when you're stuck in a serious rut? I know that once I've done it for a few days straight that I'll be able to sustain it - at least for a while - but how do I just get UP?!?!?

I feel insane having written this. Completely out of my gourd. But, it's the truth and it's what I'm grappling with. Would love to hear others' perspectives.

Thanks for bearing witness to my wackadooyness!

Should I or Shouldn't I?

For years, I've loathed the idea of Weight Watchers. More of an analytical type, the whole idea of applying a points value to something sorta kinda pisses me off. Calories, fat, carbs, protein, science - that I get. But what's a point? How does it work inside of my body?
Why? Why? Why?

I am such a pain in the ass about stuff like this. It's genetic, really. (Those of you who know my family will be able to attest to this with rapid-fire examples.) I need more than just an arbitrary explanation of things.

Oh, and don't get me started on their horrendous "foods". The so-called diet crap like sugar-free, fat-free muffin tops that somehow taste good (wtf?) and micro-meals that have little to no nutritional value and don't pass as being food in my not so humble opinion. Yeah, and they frickin let you eat pizza! I mean, okay, yes, pizza is an important food group when you're PMS-ing, stressed or watching football, but I consider that a major cheat and would rather keep it in the naughty corner instead of bringing it out into the light. When I'm cheating I know that I'm cheating and quite frankly, I need the guilt to get me back on the wagon the next day.

I know, I know. My mind ain't right.

Still, what I think I might NEED from the Weight Watchers cult phenomenon is the pressure. The pressure of the weigh-ins. The face-to-face meetings and getting to know other fatties in the fight. I have a Facebook group called Wishful Shrinking that provided that to me for a while and is still amazing and valid and a great place to meet up - but let's face facts. When your fellow weight loss warriors are spread all across the globe, it's easy to shirk your responsibilities and push away the pressure. So what if I haven't reported a loss in months. They can't see how fat my ass looks in these pants!

As wonky as my reasons might be to some, they make sense to me. Still, there's something about Weight Watchers that creeps me out. Maybe it's my Catholic upbringing and resulting aversion to joining anything with rituals and a collective consciousness. I dunno. But I really do need more pressure in my life to keep forging ahead.

Then, in the midst of writing this post and researching the organization, I come across stories like the one below and begin again to wonder...can I really join something (and spend money on something) that's kinda part of the problem? A Filet-O-Fish? Really, New Zealand? Really? The wrap and salad might be okay - I guess - except for the fact that they have hundreds more calories in them than anything a home cook would ever dare make. Honestly! McDonalds?

http://www.dietsinreview.com/diet_column/03/mcdonalds-now-offering-weight-watchers-approved-meals-in-new-zealand/

I'm so friggin' conflicted.

Move Over Kashi - There's A New Bar In Town!

One of the more exciting aspects of eating healthier - at least for me - is the opportunity to discover new foods and, more importantly, how to make them as delicious and nutritious as possible. It's also kind of neat to find out that many of the healthy foods I enjoy most aren't nearly as difficult to make as I assumed they were.

Take granola, for example.

Granola bars are absurdly easy to make. What's more, they're ridiculously easy to make even healthier than the uber-healthy ones in your health food aisle at the supermarket.

I've made the stuff so many times now, that I don't even bother with a recipe. I kind of just know what I'm going for. But, here's the recipe I use - it's a modified version of 'Chewy Granola Bars' on AllRecipes.com. Agave is a great natural sweetener (it's from the same plant used to make tequila) and has kind of the same consistency as maple syrup only it's much lower in calories. It also helps to hold everything together. Of course, I use some honey for that granola-y flavor - just a lot less since holy hell it's got a lot of calories in it! I also add the Rice Puff Cereal to make them, well, puffier. It's sort of like a granola bar and a rice crispy treat got it on in your oven. Feel free to skip them and just use all oats if you like a more traditional bar.

Guilt-Free Granola

2 1/2 cups rolled oats
2 cups Organic Puffed Rice Cereal (HFCS-free)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ cup Splenda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
2/3 cup I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter Light
1 Tbsp Honey
½ Cup Agave Nectar/Syrup

(Feel free to add raisins, craisins, carob, other dried fruits and nuts for your perfect bar)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C). Spray a rimmed baking sheet (or two, depending on how thick you like your bars) with all-natural non-stick spray. In a large mixing bowl combine the oats, flour, baking soda, cinnamon, rice cereal, agave, honey and Splenda. Stir in any fruits, nuts, etc.

Lightly press mixture into the prepared pan. Bake at 325 degrees F (165 degrees C) for 18 to 22 minutes or until golden brown. Darker color = crunchier bars. Remove from oven and lightly cut ‘guide-lines’ into bars with pizza cutter while still hot. You may need to treat the cutter with non-stick cooking spray. Allow bars to cool in the pan and begin to set for about 10 minutes. Cut again – this time, more thoroughly. Let cool completely. Remove and serve.

Yield: about 3-5 dozen bars (depending on thickness).

'The Wagon' Isn't A Trolley...

...so why do I feel I can just keep hopping on and off?

Alas, this is yet another in what I suspect will be a long line of intermittent re-dedication blog posts. Having fallen off of the weight loss wagon yet again to go on a much needed vacation, I'm back to feeling like a jackass for all of the delectable desserts and decadent dinners I inhaled whilst in Hilton Head last week. Honestly though, I wasn't really too bad on the island--it was the road food from the likes of McDonalds, 7-11 and Ruby Tuesdays on the 4 driving days to and from that really did me in. I fell back in love with Combos too. Good God, those things are amazing.



Fortunately, the scale doesn't tell as disastrous a tale as the recesses of my mind have lead my self-esteem to believe. Chew on that sentence for a bit.

Even though I haven't gained nearly as much weight as I feel like I have (or should have), I still feel like an obese orca. I wonder if there is such a thing. And, if I'm being completely honest with myself, even with the starting of this blog and the mantras and affirmations and exercise, I haven't really truly re-dedicated myself to weight loss. If I had, I'd be seeing results instead of stagnation. I'd be feeling more sure of myself and more motivated. I'd be down a pants size (at least) by now.

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the changes I have to make (again), the work I have to do (again) and the sacrifices that are necessary to be healthy (have I ever really been healthy?).

With the best and most relaxing vacation of my life now behind me, it's time to get back to reality and back on the shrinking train. Maybe I should stop looking at the scenery and move up to the conductor's car.

Maybe I should find another metaphor. This one is really wearing on me. Suggestions?

$4,380 dollars saved...and possibly a life.

Two years ago today (just about to the minute), I finally quit smoking. At the time, I was, like many smokers, waiting for motivation, divine intervention and a whole lot of inspiration to finally kick the habit. And, without delving too deep into my political leanings (which veer into the lilly livered 'sphere), for some oddball reason, the emotion, hope and sheer impossibility or President Obama's inauguration compelled me to suck the deliciously painful spectre of death into my lungs for the very last time.

I won't lie and say it was easy. It was so NOT easy. Cold turkey is a bitch. That said, all of the planets did sort of align to allow me to succeed. My stress level was a lot lower thanks to a great relationship and a much easier job situation. My finances were in order for the first time since I was 22 years old. And, boy oh boy, did that extra $180-$200 in my pocket every month make quitting all the more gratifying!

As someone who has always struggled with weight, and as someone who actually took up smoking because I was told it'd help keep me skinny after my first monumental weight loss - the one thing I feared more than anything about quitting was that I'd gain weight. My mother quit smoking about 20 years ago and almost immediately developed fibromyalgia, rheumatoid arthritis, incessant allergies and multiple chemical sensitivity. She also gained about 200 pounds. As a nice and ironic counterbalance, my father had recently beaten a smoking related cancer (same kind Michael Douglas had) and he smoked for 30 years before quitting many, many years ago.

I was faced with the ridiculous question of which is worse: being an orca or getting cancer?

Fast-forward to today, and it's abundantly clear the path I've chosen.

Sure, I can breathe easier. I feel better. But I don't look better. What's more, with all that I managed to gain in the past two years, I've increased my risk for a bunch of other cancers, diabetes, heart problems, falling and not being able to get up, etc. Ain't that something?

When I think about what I have accomplished for my health in these past few years - losing a bunch of weight, quitting smoking, eating MUCH healthier food, educating myself on nutrition - I can't wallow too much in self-pity. So long as I continue to allow myself to care about my health, there's no limit to what I can accomplish.

Fessin' Up & Let's Go Jets!

Yesterday was a rough day for the diet and a great one for my inner sports fan. After a hellish working weekend filled with stress, little sleep and more stress, I decided that my boyfriend and I would go to Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the Jets game. Instead of the salad I should have had, my PMS-addled brain said, "OOOOHHH! Fried Pickles!" and then, about three beers later, it chimed in again and said, "Chicken Fingers! Nom Nom Nom!"

Considering how much we cheered and jumped around when Tom Brady got knocked off of his pedestal...I figure I burned off about two of the pickles and a bite of chicken fingers.

Oh well. It was a wonderful mental health day and even though the food was disgusting, it was also precisely what I needed.

Today, on the other hand, I've eaten a bowl of cheerios with a banana, a salad with tuna, tomato and Sundried Tomato Dressing, a Pumpkin Spice Flax granola bar and for dinner, I'm making Chili-Glazed pork with Sweet Potato Hash (366 cals per serving - thanks Real Simple!).

Glad the pendulum has swung back into productivity mode. Now, if only I can convince myself to work out at least four times this week...

Maybe I should make it five...the Steelers game is going to be a killer and there will definitely be beer involved.

Eating & Losing Weight - Can I Really Have It All?

Last month, I got lucky. Really, really lucky.

Courtesy of a contest through Relish Magazine, I won just about everything my kitchen was missing: a microplane zester, a new bakeware set, a new ginormous crock pot, a Le Creuset French Oven and...a KITCHENAID STAND MIXER!

(I bet you thought I was going to post about getting lucky...ha! Well, I did, but that's not the point...get your minds out of the gutter, will ya!)

Back to my fully stocked kitchen--

If you have a mixer and enjoy cooking, you will completely understand the rest of this post. If not, well, I kind of feel sorry for you. This mixer has filled a void in my life I never knew existed. It's also stirred up a little panic: now that I'm back on the whole eating to live and not living to eat bandwagon, am I only going to make granola and bran muffins with this glorious machine? Am I never going to be able to experience the joys of the many attachments like the pasta maker or the ice cream maker?

Hell no!

If I am ever going to succeed PERMANENTLY in weight loss and healthy living, I need to figure out a way to embrace my omnivorous constitution. (Can you tell I'm reading Michael Pollen's books right now?) Seriously though...I have tried to deprive myself of sweets, fats, carbs and whatever else has been temporarily relegated to "it'll make you fat and kill you" status by the brilliant diet industry scientists; scientists who know surprisingly little about the complexity of food, nutrition and the constant craving that comes from cutting any of it out of your life completely.

Depriving myself (at least drastically) has never worked long-term - not for me. It's always resulted in me giving up out of frustration and the fear that I will have to shun some of my favorite flavors and textures for the rest of my life in order to be thin. On top of that, I think it propagates the notion that to be overweight is something for which you must be punished. As if looking into the mirror wasn't punishment enough. Society needs to get the hell over it already.

I'm no dummy. I know that veggies are better for me than poundcake. I know that I have to eat more complex carbs than empty calories. It's not even about sweets and fats versus veggies and lean proteins. I can eat a tomato like an apple and enjoy the hell out of raw spinach too. My problem is the compulsion to eat mass quantities of whatever is most pleasing to my palate at the moment of opportunity - that moment of weakness when I'm feeling down and sad or happy and celebratory. I need to learn to recognize why I'm eating, not just what.

The first step: I made a batch of oatmeal banana cookies on Sunday. I ate six over the course of 36 hours and shared the rest with my boyfriend. I enjoyed the cookies. I enjoyed baking them. I tamped down the compulsion to eat more than I should have and survived.  I figured out that I was bored and not hungry at some points when I felt the pull towards the cookie jar. I then got up and found something to do that didn't involve eating. This was easy because I wasn't in an extreme state of mental duress...and it's just the sort of training I need for when that feeling comes calling once again.

I've heard of food addictions being compared to alcoholism and drug addictions. I've had heated arguments about why I think this is an oversimplified assessment. You don't need alcohol or heroin to survive. You need food. Maybe not Snickers bars...but an occasional oatmeal cookie to satisfy a sugar craving? There's plenty else in that cookie that will nourish your body. I need to learn to marry nutrition with the joy of cooking, the joy of eating and the guilt that comes from eating anything at all.  I can compromise, sure - but all or nothing? F*** that!

Instead of bargaining with myself, depriving myself and dancing around the issues at the root of my over-indulgence and self-mutilation (after all, that's what allowing yourself to become obese is!), I need to learn to peacefully co-exist with food...and with my mixer.

My beautiful and glorious mixer.

I'll do sit-ups...DAMN IT!

I, like most people my size, am not the biggest fan of exercise. That being said, once I am exercising, I don't loathe it nearly as much. It just takes me an inordinate amount of time to will my fat behind onto the Treadmill/Nordic Track/Elliptical/Bike/Wii Fit/Mat/[Enter Name Of OtherTorture Device Here]. 

Here's pretty much how the story unfolds inside of my head:

Still, once I'm finally working out, I put in the time and the effort (*smirk*). 

Except when it comes to doing sit-ups. 

What is it about sit-ups that makes me hate them so much? They don't make me sweat profusely. I certainly don't get out of breath while doing them...except for when I'm doing a set of runners, but even those aren't really that bad. 

I also notice the effects of sit-ups fairly quickly. My abs have always been 'receptive' to exercise. I also like having a flatter tummy (who doesn't?). Oh, and stronger abs helps to improve my posture which helps to clear up pain issues from sitting behind a desk throughout the day at work. 

What the hell is my problem? 

Clearly I'm not the first person to decide that sit-ups suck. From the ab-roller to the ab-flex and even that crazy electrode contraption that causes ab contractions (I can't lie and pretend that I haven't considered buying it or that I'm not STILL considering buying it)...we've been trying to find viable alternatives to the good old fashioned sit-up. Heck, even Elizabeth Hasselbeck is pimping some new ab-tastic contraption! 

Alas, like cleaning the toilet on a fairly regular basis, there are just some things a girl has gotta do to keep up appearances. 

Reclaiming The Hotness

I want to be hot again. I used to be smokin. Seriously. That's not to say that with a fair amount of makeup, a lot of black clothing and a forgiving lighting scenario, I can't look like a shadow of my former self...an ominously ginormous shadow, but still, my hot self is buried in there somewhere.

For the first few years that I lived in NYC (especially that first year), I looked damn good. I lived with an actor who really pushed me to wear makeup, dress to the nines (even though I couldn't afford it), get my hair done regularly (with the help of my new friend MBNA) and just give a rat's patoot about how I presented myself to the world. Mind you, my mom had been trying to accomplish this feat for years and years and all I did was resist. I also worked at a diner on the Upper East Side and then a somewhat upscale BBQ joint (yep, there is such a thing) and the time I spent on my feet really helped me to shed the pounds I had put on in college. Waiting tables and hosting also allowed me to get my arse pinched on a regular basis by patrons (including a former superstar Mets catcher), which further clued me in to just how darn good I looked.

I actually was mistaken for Britney Spears in Central Park once...and this was before she descended into madness and frumpiness. Back in high school and even in college (before I discovered binge drinking), I was told that I looked like Kelly McGillis and Elizabeth Shue.

These are the silly and superficial things I cling to when I look into the mirror now. As I survey the damage I've done to my once fabulous form, I keep reminding myself that there will be plenty of catcalls and objectifying in my future.

All I have to do is to reclaim my hotness.

(Note: I know there is more to weight loss than the exterior, superficial crap. I know being drop dead gorgeous won't solve all of my problems. I know beauty is in large part on the inside and that I am a damn fine human being underneath all of this flab. I'm good enough. I'm smart enough and blah, blah. That doesn't change the fact that I want to be the object of every jealous woman's scorn and every neanderthal's desire.)

Day Two Of The Rest (Of My Life?)

Today, I cycled to the estrogen indulgent brain candy that is General Hospital. After 36 minutes with the tension cranked up, I was done. 6 minutes better than yesterday and 9 minutes from next week's goal. Yippy skippy. Then, I did free weights (arms) for about five more minutes. Stretched a little before and after. Really getting back into the swing! Tomorrow, I'll do abs...heaven help me.

Since the workout wasn't all that interesting, let's talk about the silly little daytime drama. Can I just say, Carly had better check herself! If memory serves, she was quite the skank when she first landed in Port Charles. Her son might be dating a stripper, but at least said stripper isn't trying to boink her step-dad. I'm just sayin. Besides, the stripper is studying to be a paralegal. She's going places!

Anyway, here's to tomorrow! ...and hoping I'm not in this oh-so-familiar headspace:

Pleasantly Plump?

Hardly. But I was pleasantly surprised this morning to learn that I only gained 6 pounds and not the 8 I originally guesstimated yesterday. That's the thing about weighing yourself midway through the day after breakfast and lunch - since your body weight fluctuates as you go through the day, you have to divine the numbers. How divine that I was wrong!

Also, what a difference a day makes in terms of 'tude. I don't know if it's the workout I finally did yesterday, the fact that I allowed myself to sleep a full 8 hours or that the psychological torment of wondering how much weight I've re-gained and if I'd ever get back on the wagon is over - I'm guessing it's all three - but man, I am feeling like a new woman today.

Here's to making the feeling last for more than a day! I think I can. I think I can. I think I need more coffee.

The DVR Makes Biking Suck Less

Managed to use my exercise bike for just over 30 minutes today before my muscles were angry. Simultaneously caught the first installment of the new season of V. The workout was definitely better than the ep.

While my thighs were a bit worse for wear, I am happy to report that my lungs didn't mind at all - that's a nice change! This past year has been tough on the whole breathing while working out front - some good days, some bad - all reminders that quitting smoking is only the first step in being a true non-smoker. Whhhheeeeeezzzzz!

Anyhoo, today's was not as stellar a workout as I'd like, but for the first day back in a while, not a failure either. By this time next week, I intend to manage 45 minutes on the cycle in a sitting. Heck, I might make it there tomorrow. Still, there's only so much time you can spend cycling in place. Will have to add more back into the regimen. Bit by bit.

Down 42 and Up 8

This is not a blog born out of a New Year's Resolution. I've stopped making those. This is a blog born out of the ownership of a mirror. We'll just leave it at that (for now).

Last year, I dropped 50 pounds. This year, I appear to have gained 8. (I'm sure it wasn't ALL in the 4 and a half days that make up this year, but in the spirit of marking time and seeing as I haven't bothered to weigh myself from late September until today...)

10 years ago I lost 75 pounds, give or take, since I was too poor to own a scale at the time. A year and a job that paid me enough to eat more than two meals a day later, I slowly and steadily began gaining it all back. Three years ago, I lost 40 of those pounds. Two years ago, I gained all of that back. The year before last I quit smoking and started eating. REALLY eating. I also learned that I really love to cook (and enjoy the spoils). By November of 2009 I found myself 185 pounds away from my ideal weight. After freaking out, giving up, getting angry and finally becoming resolved, I started to slowly chip away at that mind-boggling and impossible to truly fathom number.

And by September of 2010, I finally achieved a major milestone - a 50 pound weight loss.

True to form, of course, I slowly slipped into ambivalence, laziness and defiance - yet again.

To say that I was mortified to weigh myself today is an understatement. I expected the tears to flow and the self-loathing to set in. It was like pulling a bandage off of a hairy arm to actually will myself to stand up to/stand on that scale. Then I looked down.

Huh. 8 pounds? That's it?

I can do this.  

The only question left to answer is whether or not I actually will.