Tag Archives: eating

Mrs. Trunchbull & Laryngitis…

Yesterday, I got gifted a ticket to Matilda the Musical (maybe you’ve read the book by Roald Dahl or seen the movie made based on the book). It was a cute lil’ musical (the kids were amazeballs)! Though, most of the adult people were 4-star jerks… even if they did try to humor it up. Mrs. Trunchbull was the tight-lipped, strict, jerky school principal who ate little children for dinner every night. She was played by a male prancing around in a fluncy skirt and a tight grey bun on top of his head, which made it even funnier. Matilda was treated like dirt by most of the adults in her life (all but her teacher, Miss Honey) and yet she still perservered and rocked her gifts of extreme intelligence and bravery. I’d give it 2 thumbs up even if I sat behind the wiggliest mom and daughter combination on the planet. The mom was wigglier than the 10-year-old daughter by far! If she sat in one position for more than 2 seconds it meant that pigs were flying out back. Which meant I was playing dodge the head game so I could see the whole time. I also got scolded by an usher for using my phone as a flashlight for 2 seconds to see where we were in the program. Nothing like being scolded like a kindergartner. You… go sit in the corner!

This past week I was sicker than the previous week… for 4 of the days I couldn’t talk in anything but a forced whisper (and everyone rejoiced to the high heavens). I still have lingering mucus head and a sore throat… going on 2 weeks now. Oh, the joys of cruditis germs y’all! Send me the inventor so I can whallop them with a stale bagel! On the positive side, the nightly coughing sessions have improved and I can now talk in a semi gravelly voice, so maybe I’m on the upswing? Progress… be it ever so small. Because of that, I feel like I put my healthified goals on the backburner. I skipped out on the exercise because I felt like I got run over by a dump truck and my eating was not the best, more anxiety based than actual hunger based, so live, learn, and improve the next week. I’m going to have my sore throat checked at the doctor in the morning and hopefully he can give me some antibiotics or whatever magical pill will magically make me feel like a semi human person again.

My goals for this week are to stay on my eating plan, drink more water, and move a lot more even if I’m not able to full out exercise until I get rid of this crud.

How was your week? What things did you rock at? What things could you improve on this next week? Onward and upward y’all!

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LINDSAY’S UPDATE:

Sorry everyone! I forgot to submit my post on time last week. I should have lots to say but unfortunately I don’t have a lot to report. I have only lost 1 pound in the last 3 weeks. It’s been pretty disappointing but it has given me the determination to do some research on weight loss plateau’s. So if anything today I will share with you some of the things I will be improving on this week that I feel hopefully will give me the change needed to keep my body progressing.

1. Drink 1 Gallon of water a day! I did this in the beginning and found it successful and lately I have not been doing that at all. Drinking that much water is a great tool for flushing the system, and keeping you satiated so I will be doing better on that and tracking that each day.

2. I also went ahead and recalculated my calories based upon the 10 pounds lost and my goal weight. This deceased my calorie intake by a very small amount. But it is a decrease in my overall daily calorie intake.

3. I will be increasing my protein intake. I have been using My Fitness Pal to track my food and I have been able to see that I have not been hitting my protein goals so I will be shooting for 136 grams of protein per day. Which means my 2 snacks throughout the day willl need to be more focused on protein.

4. Decreasing my fat intake. Now this makes me shudder. I hate taking anything away. But to be totally honest I will just be cutting out possibly around 5 grams of fat per day. That equates to a whole egg. So truly not much. But at the end of the week that equates to 35 grams of fat!!!

So as you can see these are very small changes I am making. But I cannot continue to do the same thing and see no results….changes were in order to be made! I feel my body is adapting to the food. I have been diligent about changing up my exercise every 4 weeks so food is what needs to be altered.

I would love to hear what you guys have done to overcome the “Plateau’s” in your journey.
Thanks!


Lindsay, Madre, & I at Matilda!


BoBo loves hims blankie!


He also likes to drag around the shopping cart I bought him for Christmas. Duh… if you’re going shopping you bring your own cart!


Riding lawnmower… 😛


Reading grammy a book!

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Lard-abration…

I’ve decided that no matter how hard I try, I will forever have stuck in my head the notion that food is linked with celebrations and fun.  I mean, it’s a national passtime for our whole country really.  What’s the most important thing about a get together/party?  The food.  What do we have to serve to get people to come to a wedding and bring a gift that doesn’t contain a lump of coal?  Uh… cactus?  Negatory… food.  Everything and their mother revolves around what we’re going to eat.  I guess that makes sense on a lot of levels.  I mean, we have to eat to live right?  We eat several times a day… as my grandma used to say at breakfast… What are we eating for dinner dear?  

But, we’ve even taken that to a new level.  Somehow I get into my tightly wound noggin that some occasions should be free for alls.  Throw out every single thing you’ve ever learned about moderation in all things and eat the entire cruise ship whilst on vacation.  I think that was the Titanic’s problem… some person ate a chunk out of the floor boards when they ran out of waffles at the buffet.  It’s like a right for me to order the most unhealthy thing on the menu because I’m on a birthday weekend getaway extravaganza of lard sauce.  Sure it’s okay to indulge here and there.  I think it’s really unhealthy if we don’t do that.  There needs to be a healthy relationship between a person and their food, and I don’t think constantly restricting certain food items is going to do the job long term.

Miss Vague-y Titanic Floor Boards is on her Vaguey rants again.  What does this all mean?  It means I’m sorting out in my brain the best way to deal with such problems in the future.  This past weekend I went to Midway, Utah for my annual birthday trip (apparently I’m celebrating all month since it’s not my birthday yet).  Usually during my annual birthday trip I give myself permission to not count a single calorie and just enjoy myself.  I think that’s reasonable… but then I went and decided I was joining the Lard Sauce Convention and took it to another Lard-abration Level purposely ordering the lardiest item on the menu because I dagnabbed deserved it instead of being reasonable and choosing one of the healthier options.  Oh learning curves… you rarely work with food.

I think it’s safe to say I blame Ronald McDonald for all of these problems.  Him and his flouncy unnaturally red hair and floppy shoes.  Big Mac my rear patookus!

Uhhhh… where do I buy the carb seed and why did I not know these existed?  Also, I’m pretty sure when I start planting carb seeds my black thumb will automatically be turning green!  CARBS!

Totally my spirit animal.  CARBS!!

In case you were wondering… this family exists.  Giganturan and Teeny.

This is what happens to Plumpy the Penguin after a long night of drinking…

At least he thought to take his hat off first.

T

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Moderation In All Things… Twinkie…

If anyone needs me I’ve been accepted into the Sea World School of Seal Barking Exhibits.  I think I have a pretty good chance at becoming A+ at their language on account of the fact that I’m on week three of bronchitis/head congestion and have mastered said seal barking to the next level!  Pretty proud day, I must say!  Meanwhile, if anyone knows of anyone who would be able to slice a hole into my head somewhere, tip me upside down, and drain out all the goobers, I’d be there with Tinkerbells on.  One go-round of antibiotics hasn’t touched it and I feel like everyone would thank you for the service of peace and quiet… not just me.

In other news… I had a strange conversation in my Literature class last week.  I usually arrive a bit early and while I was sitting there with another student, also overweight, we began talking about “die”ts.  I didn’t bring it up… I don’t bring that subject up unless someone else does because A.) it can be construed as rude (are you saying I need to go on a diet!?!?) and 2.) It’s none of my dang business.  Also, I hate the word, “die”t as has been established approximately 12,000 times in the last 4 years.  Anyway, we got talking about how she was researching different diets to find which would be the best for her to start.  She asked which one I liked the best, to which I answered… NONE OF THE ABOVE!  Okay, okay… if you have to twist my arm I’d say Weight Watchers, only because it believes what I believe… moderation in all things.  But, WW brings with it bad memories of my 7-year-old self sitting in WW meetings with 3000 adults, so I won’t be using that method any time soon unless my fellow seal barkers take me there against my will.

I’m pretty stubborn on the moderation in all things method.  Pretty stubborn because I know it works… I’ve seen the most results of any of the bajillions of diets I’ve ever been on… and most importantly it’s common sense for lifelong success.  Here’s where some folks get confused (and I’ve been confused on many occasion including the last year or so), just because it’s moderation in all things does not mean that one should be able to eat 5 boxes of Twinkies and a keg of root beer everyday as long as one stays within their set amount of calories.  That ain’t moderation fellow seal barkers named Whitney!  It just means that life will happen and food is a part of life no matter how many darts we throw at it… so I can have a Twinkie here and there… and I can eat above my allotted calories here and there… and no food is off the table… no matter it’s fat or calorie content.  90% angel begets 10% devil… take that to the bank.

I do believe that what works for one person does not work for another person, and I respect that… everyone has to find out what works for them.  Moderation in all things is my gig.  And I’ll be stubborn about that until the seals quit barking.  Granted… if I wanted to become Miss Buff Body Builder Barker, I’d have to conform my eating to one of a body builders.  Since I want to be plain ole healthier Whitney with extra skin jiggles and cankles, I’ll go on eating in moderation.  So, girl from my Lit class… if you’re reading this… NONE OF THE ABOVE!

Side note:  I realize I talk about Twinkies like an excessive amount.  It’s like I’m in love with them or something.  I’d just like to clear up the confusion.  I actually do not like Twinkies, but their name is so cute and so I’ve decided to use them as a code word for food that is less nutritious and more indulgent.  Get my drift, Merle!?  Using Twinkies… one sentence at a time!

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Accountability and Insanity…

Hi y’all… long time no blabber… not really.  I blabbered every single day last week… just no one paid any attention to the psychotic spinster in the corner.  I’ve always tried to blend in.  A couple of things today… Firstly, FatMas Accountability!!  I don’t feel any overwhelming need to rundown what the points entail since this is week 6 and the 2 people left pretty much have it down and if you don’t and need a rundown anyway, make sure you clickety click on this here linkage.  That’s the lazy woman’s way of saying… suck it!

Total Points This Week:
Total Points From Previous 5 Weeks:

TOTAL COMBINED POINTS:

1 – What are you most proud of accomplishing this week?
2 – What can you improve on this week?
3 –  What did you improve on from last week?
4 – Thoughts/Comments/Frustrations/Concerns/Funny Jokes?

***

My answers… bear in mind I did HORRIBLY at this thing during Finals week… HORRIBLY!  Moving on…

Total Points This Week:  13
Total Points From Previous 5 Weeks:  93

TOTAL COMBINED POINTS:  106

1 – What are you most proud of accomplishing this week?  Ummmm… let’s see… well… I didn’t hardly dribble any food on my shirt as I was unconsciously shoveling it in like a pack horse on desert duty.  I’ve come to the conclusion this week that I hate food and it’s overwhelming subliminal messages it puts out into the world… I’ve hated it on and off my whole life, but this is more legit-like!

2 – What can you improve on this week?  Everything and the kitchen sink.  Bless the pygmy goats and their riders stay out of my way… I’m a machine!

3 –  What did you improve on from last week?  Uh… obviously the dribbling on the shirt thing… OBVS!!!

4 – Thoughts/Comments/Frustrations/Concerns/Funny Jokes?  Tetrazzini is a funny word like moist and dribble… oh, and squall!

 

PS – I have been heartsick over this senseless, horrific, unfathomable act in Connecticut this past Friday.  Those poor innocent, beautiful babies and their families!  Thoughts and prayers and more thoughts and prayers are being sent that the victim’s friends and families may find peace and comfort.

 

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My Best Friend… Food…

I read an article the other night… brain cells be durned… something about some wellness coach to the stars.  Pretty usual stuff, but then this quote popped out of the drudge and stuck to me like a cellulite bar after an all-you-can-eat cake parade!

Learn to live with food. Figure out how to make food your friend. You can’t go through life without food or have an adversarial relationship with it. It’s deadly. If you make exercise your constant companion and food your best friend you never have to struggle.

This would be the point when I started talking to my computer screen… Excuse you, lady… food has been my best friend for too many years… that’s how I got to 530 pounds and a death wish!  

But wait a cotton-picking, dagblasted minute here…  All these years I thought food was my best friend… my comfort… my go-to mood lifter… but in all reality, did I misconstrue a friend for an enemy?

How many best friends make you feel miserable?   How many best friends give you diseases like diabetes and cardiac disease and inflammation of the fat flabs?  How many best friends make you feel lonely and vulnerable and sad and depressed and disgusting and peeved at the world?  If any of those things were attributed to your “best friend,” you’d kick that friend to the curb faster than Richard Simmons puts out an exer-saucing video… said Maury Povich’s chair.

I need a new best friend.

Or at least a better relationship with my old “best friend.”

My method of making food my best friend turned into making it my numero uno enemy… and that needs to be turned around… and stat!  Food is fuel… period… end of story.  We all need food to survive… it’s all about finding that happy place… the place where you use food to feel your optimal best… not because of sadness or anger.   Even 200+ pounds later I don’t think I’ve hit that mecca.  Too often I go back to the food as my numero uno worst enemy.  I just need to realize that this will be my constant battle… lifelong… finding coping mechanisms and changing my attitude and view on my “best friend” is a must for survival and continued weight loss/maintenance.  Or my name isn’t Richard Simmon’s fanny pack!

Question of the Day:  How do you view food?  Your best friend or worst enemy? 

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The Four Levels of Eating…

I came across the following and thought it was interesting because who actually sits down to discover exactly why they’re eating when they’re eating?  For the love of all things holy, if you know someone who does this, I’m going to need their phone number so I can move in with them tomorrow.  Hope they like sleeping on the floor because I just called dibs on the bed.

Reading through each of the levels, I know that the majority of my 530-pound weight gain (twice) happened in levels 1 through 3… level 4 was not ever reached… ever.  But it does make sense as a cycle, too.  You start out at level 1, eating crap for pleasure, emotional eating, eating anything but the kitchen sink.  Of course, that kind of eating makes one sluggish and tired and draggy, bringing on level 2… eating for energy, but still not eating the right kinds of foods because you’re just shoving something in to feel less nasty.  One day you get fed up with the way you look and the way you waddle when you walk and the way you huff and puff and blow the house down every time you ascend the stairs, so you move on to level 3, the “DIE”T level… you’re trying to eat your way into recovery after being comatose in levels 1 and 2.  Soon, you get fed up with “die”ting, so you go back to level 1 and so on and so forth until you become bald from hair-pulling tantrums.  Level 4 is only reached when the common sense bone finally gives you a whap upside the head and you realize the only way to live is to use food as fuel.

If you’d have asked me several years ago, I’d have classified the 4 levels as 1:  Eating 2 cookies… 2:  Eating 15 cookies… 3:  Eating a whole bag of cookies… and 4:  Eating a whole witch’s cookie house from Hansel and Gretel.  You see, I wasn’t too bright back in them days.  Now, who wants a cookie?

Question of the Day:  Which of the above eating levels do you think you spent the most time in throughout your life?

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Thud, Crash, Boom…

*** THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, CRRRRREEEAAAAKKK… BOOM***  Hey y’all… here I am… the Abominable Blimp of Arbor Day Past.  Kind of like the lesser known cuzzin of the Ghost of Christmas Past… except on Arbor Day, which no one celebrates and no one gets off from work for.  So, basically it’s a title with the perks of being able to eat until you explode.  Who wants to run for this prestigious office in the next election?  I’m looking to get out of my gig.

This past week was a wash of epic proportions in the eating department… EPIC.  I feel disgusting… all bloated and sick to my stomach… and much like I did every single day of my life 235 pounds ago.  It’s no wonder I was always sick back in those days… I ate like a freaking garbage disposal.  Food is fuel… which has still not totally registered in my noggin because despite feeling like a crapload of Kentucky Fried Chicken vats, I kept shoveling it in.  Bad choices… bad quantities… and bad accountability.  Did I mention I feel disgusting?

The good news in all of this… at least I recognize how disgusting I feel and why I feel the way I do.  In the olden days, I don’t think if you hit me upside the skull with a baseball bat and told me I was bleeding, would I have recognized I was bleeding BECAUSE of the hit to the head with the baseball bat.  I would have blamed everything else on the aching head wound.  Global warming… Al Gore’s head… Count Chocula’s Salmonella outbreak.  I never attributed my sad stomach and my general feeling of fatigue and disgustingness to my eating and non-exercising habits… it was always something else.  Oh, I have irritable bowel syndrome.  I’m allergic to lactose.  OJ Simpson got away with murder.  NEVER did I accept that it was because I ate too much sugar and too much fried fatty stuff and just too dang much.  So, the good news in my epic week of epicness.  I recognize why exactly I feel like a bloated toad… and I know what to do to turn that around.

The bad news… my confidence has been shaken… not stirred… and I don’t know if I have that gumption to get it done.  There has been a recurring theme over the last several months.  I’ll eat beautifully on the weekdays with my menu plan in place, but then Friday, Saturday, and Sunday show up and I think because I’ve eaten beautifully during the week, I DESERVE to have a “treat.”  Which has always been my motto… even during the times when I was losing like gangbusters… but I meant it to be ONE treat on ONE weekend day… not 57 treats on every weekend day… which has stalled any progress I should be making from my strict regimen of eating and exercise during the week… and I guess lack of seeing any progress eventually weighs on a person… (WEIGHS… Bwahahahaha… get it?) and that lack of self confidence and self esteem creeps up faster than Richard Simmons at a TuTu convention.

The other good news… because the good days have evened out the bad, I have maintained my weight.  No big gain to worry about taking off.  I can just move on into new territory of kicking butt-dom.  I REFUSE to let this thing lick me.  The measure of a (wo)man is not in how many times she gets knocked down, it’s in how many times she gets the heck back up.  I’m up… try to take me down for good and I’ll hit you in the head with a baseball bat.  That’s right.

Question of the Day:  What do you do to bring focus back when you’re struggling with something?  

EXACTLY!

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