Thin on the inside

Have you ever said something as an absolute fact only to realize later you were absolutely wrong? I'm cursed with foot-in-mouth disease and do it all the time. For example, not too long ago, I waxed poetic about being overweight on the inside. I opined that I was not a dyed-in-the-wool health nut.

I was wrong.

By saying that I would always be overweight on the inside, it was like saying that I'm permanently flawed. That I'll always have to fight. That's some pretty pessimistic thinking right there. If there's one thing I've learned along the way it's this: it's positive thinking that gets you places.

Consider what pessimistic thinking got me in the past. I firmly believe I became overweight because of thinking the worst of me. In my post, I'm thinner than I think I am, I even said as much.

I saw myself as large and unattractive. I wasn't really. But I believed it and I became it.”

My recent troubles with binging can be laid squarely on the shoulders of fatalistic thinking. Weekends might be the trigger, but this type of thinking is the gunpowder. I believed I was flawed. I became it. And I've been fighting the imaginary monster that I inadvertently created because of it.

That way of thinking is no more. I am a member of the naturally thin and healthy. If I have off-days, it doesn't mean I'm broken. Even naturally thin people have those days.

For anything to work long-term, you have to really enjoy it. I enjoy being thin and healthy. I enjoy thinking of myself in these terms inside and out. It's such a bright happy sparkly thought that it gives me focus and a "can do" attitude. Because I can do this. After all, the power of positive thinking means it's a foregone conclusion.

Overweight on the inside

One of the things that I've learned since going on Maintenance, is that I'm still overweight on the inside. The outside has shrunk to a thin person. However, the inside, my mind, my being, is still a food addict. For awhile there, I thought that I had actually converted that voracious part of my soul into a dyed-in-the-wool health nut.

Have you ever heard the phrase, "inside me there's a skinny girl struggling to get out?" In my case, there's an overweight girl doing the fighting. She's a part of me and always will be. If I don't keep an eye on her, she's going to get out again. Like a gremlin after midnight, both hands in the refrigerator, up to no good.

For this reason, I will always have to watch what I eat, day in, day out, hour by hour, minute by minute, choice by choice. Does that sound depressing? It is.

However, I'm a firm believer in taking strength from knowing your enemy. If you know what you're likely to do, you can take steps to minimize it. Or forgive yourself more easily. Or find peace in knowing that it's just how you are.

I know my enemy. The enemy is inside me. Not inside the chips, the restaurant, the office cupcakes, or the bag of Oreos. Inside me and only me.

One of these days I may yet be a card-carrying member of the thin and healthy. But until that day comes, I have to keep tabs on the girl inside.

Update: for more thoughts on this post, read the follow-up piece, "Thin on the inside."

Eating the real thing

In our quest to get the lowest point treat as possible, we sometimes overlook the obvious. We can have the real thing. In fact, the real thing might be better for us for a few reasons. One, it's less likely to have mystery chemicals in it. Two, it might satisfy us better than having a copycat. Three, it's likely to be cheaper.

Consider the humble fudgsicle. I realize it's not the epitome of a nutritionally sound food, but it is a treat that I often crave. On one side of my grocery store's freezer are the "diet" offerings. Laughing Cow, Breyer's sugar-free, and so on. On the other side, the real deal. To get my frozen fix, I naturally gravitate towards the diet side. “Diet” foods have less calories in it, so they must be better for me, right?

And then I started comparing ingredients. My intestines are extremely sensitive to sugar alcohol (think bomb squad) and so out of consideration to Mr. Trim and my cats, I avoid it wherever possible. Unsurprisingly, just about every one of these treats had some form of sugar alcohol or mystery ingredient in them.

Now I know that sugar alcohols have been deemed "safe" but they haven't been out all that long. The advisablility of the "ols" aside, it's the other ingredients that raise my eyebrows, too. What are these things? Manmade, likely. Unpronoucenable for sure. And where would these chemicals wind up in my body? Just how much was I trading in points-value for health?

That's when a wild and crazy idea popped into my brain. Why not have the real thing? How bad could it really be? So I picked up the regular fudgsicle box and was surprised to find that it wasn't all that bad at all. In fact, it was only 1 point more than its sugar-free counterpart.

On one hand, I could have a smaller "fake" fudgsicle for 1 point, more money, and a slew of chemicals. Or, I could have the real mccoy for 2 points, less money, and less chemicals. (The other obvious choice is not to have it at all and avoid the sugar, fat, and chemicals altogether. But that's not terrifically fun.)

I’m not saying that all specialty “diet” food is bad, either. They do have their place. If it keeps you from binging, all the better. If pre-portioned packs are more convenient and help you with portion control, by all means. I myself can't be in the same room with an open bag of chips; it has to be preportioned or you'll find me hiding a crumpled and empty bag in short order.

In the end, I wound up getting the box of real fudgsicles and enjoyed every one of them more than any of diet treats I've eaten in the past. They felt like a real treat, both physically and mentally. A nice cool fudgsicle from my youth on a hot day just satisfies. Mind and mouth.

The next time you're in the store and find yourself reaching for the diet food, indulge in a bit of detective work. Pick up the real thing and really look at it. Nutritional information, ingredients and all. You might just be surprised by what you find. Not all “bad” foods are that bad.

I'm thinner than I think I am

I'm still amazed at how a number of my pre-weight loss mindsets still float to the surface. It's like they're never truly gone; they wait just below the surface only to emerge in awkward places like the dressing room.

Case-in-point...I mentioned on my last post about some poor eating choices I'd been making. As a result of that, somehow I thought that I had gained so much weight as to go up in a number of clothing sizes. I actually found myself thumbing through sizes that were too big for me. When I caught myself doing this, I made myself try on a smaller size. It was an honest-to-goodness kick in the head when I found it fit me.

What went through my mind at that point? "I can't possibly fit in a size this small, I've been eating out of control." It's the same sort of thinking I had even before I gained weight to begin with. "I can't possible fit in a size this small, I'm not good enough." As a result, I never even tried on smaller sized clothes. I expected disappointment and I received disappointment in return.

Maybe that's exactly why I became so overweight? I saw myself as large and unattractive. I wasn't really. But I believed it and I became it.

Now here I am at square one. Back where I started before I put on weight. Rummaging through the racks looking for larges, thinking I'm not good enough, that I can't possibly be allowed to try on small sizes, that I'm not worthwhile.

If you're itching to smack me right now, I don't blame you. Fortunately, there's a difference this time. Though I didn't recognize it at first, I was eventually able to identify that old sneaky thought pattern before it successfully crept onto me like a badly-fitting puce-polka-dotted frilly-cuffed mark-down shirt.

I don't kid myself that it won't try again. (Fashion disasters lie in wait for us all.) But when it does try again, I'll remember this: I'm thinner than I think I am. But more importantly, I just have to believe I'm better than the image I have of myself. Because if I believe it, I will become it. And maybe then I won't come home from the store with plaid stirrup pants and poofy pink shirts.

Shiny new life

With getting to goal comes a time for reflection. I mentioned previously how this process has changed my life and indeed, gave it back to me. This is my story of what it was like for me being overweight and what I found along the way.

Before I started to lose weight, I never realized (or perhaps forgot) just how full of zest life can be. I was resigned to feeling tired, unwell, and overweight. A "good" night at home was spent in front of the TV with comfort food, snacks, and treats.

I rarely took care of myself. I emerged only occasionally to grudgingly buy new clothes. Underpants were ragged. I hadn't bought a bra in years because every time I went bra shopping, I'd leave in tears.

I was bitterly ashamed of myself and constantly felt I was a big disappointment to my loving husband. I didn't want to go to parties and have people realize that he had such an overweight wife. Always in my mind was the thought that my husband deserved the best and I just wasn't it.

Up until I joined Weight Watchers, I had been overweight for 10 years. I tried dieting a few times and failed. I walked slowly, I didn't dance, didn't jump, didn't do anything risky. I stopped really looking at myself in the mirror. I guess this was so I wouldn't see that I was gaining more and more weight.

And yet through all these years, I thought I was "okay." That things were supposed to be like that and that was my lot in life. I also convinced myself somehow that I didn't look all that bad. I avoided the camera and even when it caught me, I still would look at the pictures and try and convince myself that it was still okay, that's just how I was meant to look.

I've mentioned before that I never had a lightbulb moment when I knew it was time to start losing weight for real. Even with 10 years of subtle hints under my belt, I began Weight Watchers not with any sort of expectation that it would drastically change my life. I'd lose weight, fit in nicer clothes and that was the end of the story.

After I achieved my 10% goal, I had an inkling that it wasn't about that at all. It was about saving my life inside and out. As each new accomplishment was achieved and as each hurdle was cleared, I gained confidence in myself. Each pound lost revealed something new that was to be cherished. All the conceptions I had about myself as an overweight person were discarded along the way. I could do much more than I ever thought I could.

In the process, I learned that life was worth living again. And not just simply living. Rather, taking it out for a joy ride all hours of the night.

Here, now I can look back on all that I earned and learned. Every little step, every tiny step I made was a victory and flew in the face of everything I thought about myself.

I am not tired anymore. I have a spring in my step. I am a source of pride again. I have been described as a "battery" and told to "stop making it look so easy" when we go hiking. I can assertively order my salad with dressing on the side. I can buy bras without crying. I can walk a half marathon. I can run a 10k. I can kick butt at Bootcamp and take the ultra-advanced-crazy-person spinning class. I can climb a tree. I can go curling. I can laugh freely and make jokes. I can say no to cake. I can eat veggies and fruits and like it. I can achieve long and short-term goals. I can look in the mirror and be proud of my body, stretch marks, cellulite, scars and all. I can forgive myself. I can love myself. And most of all, I can do anything I set my mind to.

That is what it means to have taken back my life. And not only took it back, but made it better. A shiny new life was inside all along. I just had to go looking for it.

The long-term benefit of a plateau

Someone asked me today how I managed to survive the two months of plateau I went through. It made me think back to that time and how frustrating it was. In hindsight, I can see now that it was exactly what I needed.

It taught me so many valuable lessons that any frustrations I had were as temporary as the plateau itself. If I had to do it over again, I wouldn't trade that experience for anything. Here's why:

• I learned to eat better. Yes, I'd lost weight up till that point but was I truly eating healthy? I wasn't really. One of the things that came out of the plateau is that I now eat a lot better now. I consistently meet the 8 Healthy Guidelines. What's more, I truly believe in them and not just go through the motions because "Weight Watchers says so." In fact, I enjoy eating healthy food MORE than I enjoy eating junk food.
  
• I have more tenacity. I knew the exercise was likely behind the plateau. I battled with myself. The good voice said that it was better to be fit. The bad voice said that I'd lose more weight if I stopped exercising. I battled the bad voice for weeks but didn't give in. I'd be darned if I was going to give up on losing weight and I'd be darned if I was going to give up on exercise. So I buckled down and just did it. The bad voice was wrong. I'm in the best shape of my life.
  
• I got in touch with my accomplishments. With the scale not moving, I had to look elsewhere for motivation. I looked inwards and reflected on what I had achieved to date. I had a nice long time to really think about that and know that if I gave up, it was a poor way to reward all the sweat and tears I had previously gone through. I also started writing down good things I did during the day so that any poor choices I made would seem insignificant to the pile of good ones. I really learned to look at the big picture.
• Relax and have fun. I learned to become patient, accepting, and more relaxed about the process. Even now when I gain or lose a tich, I say "meh" and keep going.

Plateaus are never easy. But they're not all that bad. Look at the lasting benefits I received with mine.

The will to win

The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare.”
– Juma Ikangaa, 1989 NYC Marathon winner

Isn't that a great quote? I've been thinking about it a lot since it was sent to me in my running clinic newsletter. It doesn't just apply to running; it applies to any challenge, weight loss especially. You can't just want to lose weight. You have to put the effort in to make it happen.

The Aha! Moment

There was a post on the WeightWatchers.ca message boards the other day that got me to thinking. The question raised was this: what was your "aha!" moment when you realized you needed to lose weight?

For me, there was never any defining moment. There was lots of really uncomfortable things I put up with, but none of them prompted me to do anything. They just kept collecting and building up in the corner of my mind as things to shy away from because they were too shameful to address. I just told myself that I was "okay" the way I was and that I was destined to be overweight for life.

So what was it that prompted me to finally act? It wasn't when I couldn't fit into the chairs at my insurance broker's (I call them "skinny ass" chairs). It wasn't when a coworker's wife pointedly asked me if I had diabetes (because I was overweight like her). It wasn't when a ski shop employee told me he couldn't fit me in a boot because my legs were "too fat." And it wasn't when the driver's license clerk read me the riot act because I hadn't changed the weight on my renewal and I wasn't getting away with saying I was thin when I obviously wasn't (I didn't mean to get away with anything, it was an honest mistake).

Aside from the fact that there are an awful lot of really tactless people and chairs out there, none of them alone prompted me to act. I started Weight Watchers because I felt I had to in order to accomplish something else. Not because I thought I needed to lose weight. I know that sounds kinda weird, but there it is.

I know that many of us have had that one crystal-clear defining moment that prompted them to act and to see them through their journey. Not me. I just showed up at a Weight Watchers meeting and kept going. In fact, now that I look back on things, I only really looked ahead a few steps at a time. I still do that now. Occasionally I'll pop my head up and look at the big picture, but the rest of the time I take it day by day.

As it turns out, I know now that I did need to lose weight and that I still need to lose weight. It was never okay for me to resign myself to a lifetime of unhappiness. And perhaps that's my aha! moment right there.

Praise You

Ya know...there's something to be said for large subtle hints. Given over and over and over again. This song was played during spinning class today. As I was really giving it, I closed my eyes and let the lyrics sink in.

We've come a long long way together,
Through the hard times and the good,
I have to celebrate you baby,
I have to praise you like I should”

You and me body, we have come a long way together. You've never let me down. And here I am, expecting the scale to provide the reward. The scale does not give us rewards. Never has. Never will. Our bodies provide the reward. And it's about time I rewarded mine with the recognition it deserves. Well done, body, well done. You've gotten me this far, and you'll get me to the end.

Think first...but listen, too

One of the tenets that Weight Watchers strives to teach us is to "Think First." I have a lot of trouble with that. I can think first all I want, but if I don't actually listen to myself, the thinking gets conveniently put aside. It has the same effect as putting my hands over my ears and loudly singing "lalala-notlistening!"

Lately, I've been trying very hard to listen to myself. Practice patience, practice control, and actually listen to what my thoughts are telling me. Things like "do you really need that piece of chocolate or are you bored?" And "you should probably care more that your socks aren't matching."

As many of you can relate, it takes an enormous amount of self-control to listen when your stomach is yammering. Consequently, I don't always succeed (my mismatched socks, inside-out underwear and dwindling supply of chocolate is proof positive). But at least now I'm giving it a chance and not pushing it away.

My brain and my stomach are finally in therapy together. They might not be on the same couch yet, but at least they're talking – and listening – to each other now.

The Thoughtful Game

When it comes to treats at the office, I often imagine myself to be a soccer player trying to get my ball past the other team. I dodge, I move sideways, sometimes I move backwards, sometimes I move forwards, and sometimes I get tackled. Up until now, I've always thought that my team had only one player – me.

It's nice then to know that this is not the case. I was approached yesterday morning by a coworker who wanted to know if it was okay if she brought treats in to the office. She knows I've been watching what I eat and has been rooting for me, but she also likes to bring the occasional treat in for the office. I was so very touched that she brought this up with me as she didn't want to impede my progress.

I told her as much and thanked her for thinking of me. But I did go on to say that though I appreciated the thought, I really don't expect anyone to act or eat differently because of me. In fact, I'd be mortified if someone felt they couldn't have something because of me. I encouraged her to bring treats whenever she wanted and that I wouldn't mind in the least. If I wanted to have some, I would. And if I didn't, well, I hoped it was understood that I wasn't being ungrateful.

As I dodge, duck and shuffle my ball along, around the treats and players, I know it's not a game that is easy but it is necessary. I can't expect everyone to dive out of my way or pick me up and carry me, ball and all, to the goal post. It's life, plain and simple, burly players, red cards and all. However, it's still nice to know the playing field isn't full of enemies and that there's at least one other player out there that doesn't want to take my ball away. Hopefully she knows that I don't want to take away her ball either.

Autumn is wonderful

On a sunny fall day, it feels good to be out and about. Today, my friends and I went on a day-trip to a beautiful provincial park with the most glorious waterfalls. We walked all over the park, following the river down and hopping from rock to log to rock again. I felt so very healthy and vibrant that it was difficult to imagine being anything but. But of course, half a year ago, I wouldn't have been able to keep up as well, nor even feel the joy of simply being outside and moving my body.

The company and scenery aside, I also did very well with food today. Normally I don't do so well on the weekends, let alone day trips. But, I spent some time practicing in my head beforehand what I'd order for breakfast at the restaurant (known for its fattening, but tasty breakfasts) and pulled it off flawlessly. I also did well at lunch, forgoing the side of fries for a side of the soup of the day. And, because I had earned so many Activity Points leaping around the park, I indulged in a small treat from the bakery.

As I write this, I'm sipping a cup of tea and enjoying some gingersnaps. Autumn is wonderful and it feels good to be alive, healthy, and fit.

Lost and found

I used to be thin. I say this with a reasonable amount of certainty because I have pictures to prove it. Despite this, the doubt remains still. Somewhere along the way I'd forgotten, truly forgotten, what it was like to be thin. There was no then anymore. It was as if I'd always been overweight and the thin girl in the photos was someone else.

Consequently, as I started to lose weight, I'd observe thin people wherever I went. Imagining myself to be them because, as I said, I could not remember being anything other than overweight. However, as time went on and I lost the pounds, watching thin people no longer held the same appeal. On the contrary, it stirred up decidedly uncomfortable feelings. Instead of exploring said feelings, I took the easy way out. I stopped watching thin people.

It wasn't until recently that I figured out why watching them made me feel uncomfortable. It was because I was seeing something in those people that I hadn't seen for years: myself. Or rather, the doppelgänger of my thin self - entirely unrecognizable and yet eerily familiar all the same. No wonder I wanted to run screaming in the other direction.

Nowadays, I no longer feel that strangeness. I'm starting to remember what it was like to be thin. I'll be looking at myself naked in the mirror and think, "I remember my back looking like that." Sometimes, I'll catch myself standing in a certain way, a way in which I used to carry myself when I was smaller. That feeling of being petite but with an indomitable spirit.

Everyday, I see more and more of what my body used to be. It has more scars and stretch marks, but the shape is the same. I've found what was once lost. And I've come to believe that the same could be said for many people. The thin girl - or boy - has always been inside of us. We might not remember or recognize them, but they're there all the same.