Old Habits Die Hard (and other trite observations)

It's true though.

Turns out a lifetime of using food to celebrate success, strengthen relationships and heal perceived wounds is one of those habits that hangs around.  Despite my recent efforts, events of the past week have thrown me for a loop.  And, as most people do when they get knocked out of balance for whatever reason, there are all kinds of emotions that can accompany the process of getting off track and putting oneself back on.

The charming C and her beloved, the delightful D came down to visit for the weekend.  Which was AWESOME.  Such great people, such great times, with lots of food and wine to celebrate.  Luckily, we also spent the majority of a day traipsing around DC, which burned plenty of calories.  Not enough to completely make up for all the wine and food, but I was still down another 3.2 lbs for weigh-in on Monday, and J is down 0.6.  He was disappointed in that number, but I say down is down is down.  Onward!  (er, downward?)

More celebration ensued with the birthday of the marvelous M, which included numerous but oh-so-delicious pints and pies.  Unfortunately, our new-home baseball team losing embarrassingly to our old-home baseball team.  We consoled ourselves by yelling enthusiastically from the stands and drinking over-priced tallboys.  And J with his favorite stadium creation, bacon on a stick (read: a skewered slice of pork belly smothered in some sort of glaze).

Yesterday was far less fun, but no less caloric. All my patients cancelled or no-showed on me (which, in my memory, has never happened.  Or at least not since I had more than one at a time).  But that's neither here nor there, because the extra time allowed me to delve more into this tempestuous shit-storm we call internship applications.  Of late, I have been feeling pretty good about this portion of my life, which is a welcome change.  Creativity is flowing in the essay/cover letter department, I had mostly narrowed down a list of places, I am chugging along in plugging in all the minutia.  A fire has been lit under my tush because I've only got about a month before all this crap goes to seed, so there has been a little panicked energy behind my latest internship-related endeavors.  So, I used my time well, I felt things were going in the right direction, and I had two afternoon meetings set up in the service of the "Get A an Awesome Med Psych Internship" Project. Meeting 1: helpful and relatively confidence-inspiring.  Meeting 2: Oy.

Now, please bear in mind that I am grateful EVERY DAY that I am a part of this team.  They have been so incredibly helpful, supportive and encouraging.  The fact that they like and believe in me enough to support me through not one, but two years of externship has been a huge blessing, and I know it.  And the best part is that they care about each other, which I have discovered is an extremely important part of chemistry of a workplace, and definitely something that's a must where ever I go next.  Whatever my own response to the advice and guidance given as a result of these of these meetings, it has nothing to do with how much I respect and appreciate these folks.

So the fact that my response to the harsh truths borne of Meeting 2 was to sob like my pet unicorn died has nothing to do with the deliverer of said truths.

Of course, my deeply ingrained behavioral response to my feelings of disappointment, discouragement and deflatedment was to buy:

1. Bread.
2. Wine.

Luckily the Payless that used to live right next door to the grocery store went out of business, other wise you bet shoes would have been added to that list.  

Does it count that I bought a whole wheat baguette? No?  Dang.  

Desired wineglass not to scale. Bigger, please.

Thus old habits have been interfering in the dieting department for moi.  To our credit, however, things have remained  pretty steady in the exercise department, for both J and I.  No gym dates this week yet, but we have had a couple of actual dates, which have been much needed and just as nice.

Unsolicited Advice, Piece #267: No matter how long you've been with your partner, date them. Take them out, show them off to the world, even in those moments when you're not particularly fond of each other.  This is an essential ingredient in a happy, lengthy union.  I've decided.

While this particular habit of eating as celebration and consolation has not served me well this week, others have.  Like reaching out to those I love, making rewarding plans for after I've actually accomplished something, and talking things over ad nauseum with J.  Many thanks to my beloved husband for making dinner, hugging, listening and being a much-needed voice of reason last night during my unicorn-slaughter-meltdown.  

What's the saying about how many times one must repeat a behavior for it to become a habit?  Like 30?  Here's to attempt #1 of 30 of going to the gym instead of the grocery store during times of high-intensity.  Cheers.

Speed Bump

Yup. Still fat.

Ugh, I'm so in love.  Must resist.

I guess I was hoping that working out every day and eating right would be making this whole thing go faster. Or maybe I was feeling slumpish and wanted to dig my way out of it by shopping through my closet for fun fall things, hoping to find some forgotten pieces would fit. Alas, they still don't. To lament the fact that most of my wardrobe remains ill-fitting and squeezes me in all the wrong places, I switched to coveting shoes instead. It's fall, I deserve boots, no?

slumpish [sluhm-pish]: adjective. The feeling one gets when in a slump, stuck in a rut, dug in a hole or has otherwise lost momentum.

Actually, I don't really feel that way when it comes to FitAnniversary.  For the most part, things in the food-n-exercise department are going fairly well.  But I may have overestimated how many problems can be solved with being more healthy on a regular basis. As if solving the problem of being overweight and out of shape works as a panacea for the rest of the crap in my life. Low and behold, there remain many things that need my attention and not enough hours in the day to address them all.

Something that I am classically not very good at is enjoying the present moment. It's not a very attractive quality, and I am fully aware of it. Especially because I often tout the benefits of remaining present with my clients. But it's hard for me to live that way, especially when things are unpleasant, stymied or anxiety-producing.  I find myself searching for a fast-forward button to get past the unpleasantness (sidenote: I think the advent of DVR has made me considerably worse at this. Perhaps commercials are the universe's way helping me practice patience).

Let's fast forward to the part where I am thin and have an internship.

At one point I had a supervisor who, while totally harmless, was not the most likable person. He would pretend he was a man of modern medicine, but really he was a huge Gestalt hippy at heart. Which of course, made him kinda weird in our books. One of his oft- (over?) used favorite interventions/implorartions was to chant "Be here now" with various tones and inflections.

BE. Here, now.
Be here now.
Be here, now.

We as a group would shrug off this statement as a relic of his training, but there is something to be said for the combination of those three little words. The invitation, or command, to let go of all else in favor of what is happening in front of you. Right here, right now. This idea stands in stark contrast to my desire go fast forward through less desirable portions of my life. Which, let's face it, are a big part of this whole "living on earth" business. On the opposite end of this spectrum is the unrealistic desire to capture and keep those moments which I do enjoy or are going well. Part of the problem with taking pictures at a party, despite my love for capturing people, moods and moments on film. But there is a part, however small or unconscious, that wants to keep this forever. The trick about time is that it just keeps going, unfettered and unbidden by our human desires to speed it up or slow it down. And in that sense, what else is there to do but to be here now?

Here's to living in the present moment: fat, slumpish or otherwise.

L'shanah tovah!

As some of you know, this weekend will usher in Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. This means several things, firstly (and most importantly to me) that the illustrious N is home in Baltimore to celebrate with her family. With a few side trips to see friends and defend her dissertation. NBD, she's gonna nail it. She's awesome like that.

In this process of Fit Anniversary, as well as a few other processes at work in my life currently, I've gotten to thinking a lot about fresh starts.

One belief that resonates for me during this holiday is that everyone deserves and receives a second chance, even if it's their 100th one. With the new year comes renewed opportunity.  You don't have to be Jewish to appreciate this notion. In fact, a comfort if my own spiritual beliefs is knowing that you are forgiven, accepted and loved, just by virtue of the fact that you exist. Back in the days of being a budding therapist, I would be so nervous, unsure of myself, and so desperate to be helpful, I would work myself into being completely absent from the relationship I had so graciously been invited to participate in. And lord knows, that is most definitely NOT helpful. So I would take a moment out before every therapy and supervision session to remind myself:

You are a beloved child of God.

And no matter what else happened, I knew that much to be true. Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly inept or lost, I would cast off the mantra as nothing but a more sincere or fevered rendition of Stuart Smalley's. But the truth of it tugged at the corner of my mind, ready to be reinvoked when I was ready.

Oh, sure there are plenty of facts about me too. Fact: I am overweight, I am hyperresponsive. I am sometimes selfish, avoidant, and shortsighted. Occasionally I am vindictive, lazy, and judgmental.

And there is also the Truth with a capital T: that I am a beloved child of God.  It is precisely the two sides of this very human struggle are why fresh starts and second chances are so important. Now, this does not mean that we are unaccountable or pushovers or have license to behave in whatever way we choose without consequence. This whole weigh loss adventure is pure proof of that. Fact: eat with reckless abandon, avoid exercise like the plague, get fat. AND YET. The truth is that, as a creature of this wondrous universe, I am offered chance upon chance upon chance to try again.  And this is a good thing because last night, after a number of hoppy beverages and mourning the loss of the Ravens, the marvelous M convinced me to split a crab pretzel with her.

But today is a new day.  To atone for our crab pretzel and as an excuse to hang out on a beautiful day, the marvelous M, her dog and I went for a two-hour hike in the woods.  My second two-hour hike in three days!  I'm aware that hiking is not running or lifting, but for the time being, I'm ok with just getting my heart rate up every day and not eating like a schmuck.  In the celebration of new beginnings and fresh starts, I am trying to be less hard on my self and bit more forgiving in my efforts to be a healthier person.  Ok, beers and crab pretzels are not good choices. But today is a new day.  A fresh start.  Another chance to live in the spirit of the person I want to be.

And for that, I am grateful. 

___________________________________________________


Thanks to the lovely L for posting the article about Rosh Hashanah!  And thank you also to the illustrious N for patiently introducing me not only to Jewish faith and customs, but also to this concept of "working out," running and actually going to the gym, and especially for being such a wonderful friend.  Knock 'em dead, girl!

Small Victories

Public Service Announcement (that the public will likely not be interested in nor serviced by).  In the interest of celebrating small victories on the path to fitness, I wish to declare to the world:

My pants fit.  Well, they fit better.

Granted, these are the largest pair of pants I own.  I almost gave them away a few years ago because they were my designated superfat pants.  Since they did not have belt loops I had to pin up a few inches to keep them from falling off and inadvertently mooning innocent bystanders. Earlier this summer, when none of my other clothes were fitting, I found the superfat pants and wore them out of necessity, muffin top be damned.  "Ugh, this is just the way it is," I thought, and tried to wear flowy shirts to distract from said muffin top.  This morning, I found myself in a similar position (aka: all my roomy dresses were in the wash), so I dug up the trusty superfat pants. To my delight, I did not have to suck in my gut to button them, and the muffin top was considerably smaller!  I even opted to pair them with a non-flowy shirt that I haven't been able to wear in a while. There are still notable remnants of spillage, but certainly more acceptable and tolerable amounts.

And, tonight J and I will have our second gym date this week. I rather like these dates. Tuesday we sat next to each other on stationary bikes and caught up on the day's events whilst elevating our heart rates.  Tonight's endeavor will be side-by-side ellipticals during which I will tell J all about my oh-so-exciting day of public health research and he will listen politely before telling me some gruesome story about a call they got. Then he'll swim and I will run, we'll reconvene at home for dinner and possibly a movie. Or at least that's what I hope will happen.

AND I already have another activity-laden date with friends this week! The sassy Ms. S, smile-for-miles P and I will be going for a woodland hike and picnicking al fresco.  Love it!


That is all for today, readers.

Oh, except this.  Can you believe this thing is real?!

Can you laugh and hurl at the same time?  Yup.  You just did.

Thought(s about) Control

Last night, I received an unexpected and delightful check-in from the effervescent A, followed by a muchly anticipated phone date with the magnificent M, full of updates from their newest life-chapters and support for the various projects going on mine.  After hanging up from both of these overall good conversations, I pretty much immediately burst into tears.  As a would-be psychologist, I was able to engage in an intrapersonal "what the heck, man?" line of questioning to sort this out, and came to no real resounding conclusions other that I miss my friends.  Many of them are launching into really exciting parts of their careers, and I am honest-to-God thrilled.  Seriously, these folks are going to change the world.  Watch out.  My path is somewhat different, for reasons that are both in and out of my control.

Something about this project feels, well, important.  And I understand that yes, health is important, and yes, changing habits for the better is really important for the long-term for both J and myself.  Of course we want to be able to run after our children without huffing and puffing, live long and resplendent lives, and look bangin' at various reunions.  But when I take a step back to think about why, after all the years and diets and efforts to lose weight, all the iterations of all the plans that I've started and stopped, why this time is different.  Why it feels bigger than two people, a plan and a blog.  And part of that is what I talked about before; that this cyber confessional keeps me accountable for the changes I'm trying to make.

But it's something else too. There is something to be said about taking the reigns of what one actually has control over.  Fact of the matter is, I can control what I put in my mouth.  I can control how I manage my time enough to get to the gym.  It's hard,  but it's doable.  There is a comfort in this type of control, particularly  when everything else is out of my hands. And on this, the anniversary of the attacks that have colored the fabric of our nation, accepting things that are out of one's control feels appropriate.  But this shift in gears is difficult for me.  I often so desperately want to control the various moving pieces in my life, in the hopes that without the noise of the unknown, I can force things into a shape and order that will eliminate space for anything negative to creep in.  Believe me, I am well aware of the impossibility of this feat.  In fact, I'm working (pretty hard, actually) on letting go of responsibility over impossible things.  The other half of this equation is actually taking responsibility and ownership over the things that do lie within my reach.  I could be doing a lot more to take the bull by the horns in other parts of my life, and I have the sense that I will.  But for now it looks like making sure I pack a lunch and put my gym bag in the car on the way to work.  Soon it will look like writing and rewriting cover letters and finishing the endless hours tally for the APPI, but for now, it's situps and Couch to 5K. 

Speaking of things that are and are not within my control, I would like to send a little personal thank you to all the JHSPH folks who cleaned out the kitchen after scrumptious-looking sandwich/cookies leftovers were put there after some catered lunch.  Admittedly, I was plagued by wayward thoughts of scavenging the leftovers and had justified myself by mentally devoting extra time on the treadmill tonight.  But when I wandered back into the kitchen, they were gone.  Nothing but a half-eaten cookie and mangled bits of lettuce remained strewn about the lonely-looking doilies. And I, for one, was grateful. While I know I am perfectly capable of controlling whether or not I swipe a free cookie or sandwich, I was feeling peckish, bored (sometimes research is boring.  Hard to believe, right?), and self-righteous (I'm a poor grad student, I deserve free food, no matter what is slathered between the slabs of carby goodness) -- key ingredients for diet disaster.  Thank you, whoever you are, for removing the temptation and allowing me to continue to exercise a modicum of control over this (rather trivial) corner of my existence.

Thank you also to have and continue to serve this country in varied and countless ways.  Thank you for allowing me the luxury of fretting about things like sandwiches instead of safety.  Thank
you for controlling what you are able to in your sphere of influence in this world, so that I might continue to exercise my ability -- and right -- to control what I can in mine. May we all find some solace in the expectation that we, as individuals and together as one human family, are forever engaged in the act of balancing what we can hold and what we must release.

"I think I can, I think I can..."

...said the girl who hates exercising.

Do you think it matters that I never actually read this book?

I am really trying though.  I've been to the gym 3 days in a row, going for 4 later tonight thanks to the FAC's weird hours (who's open till 11:30pm on a Sunday?  Oh well, I'll take it).  One gym incident I'm particularly proud of was going one morning when I wasn't "firing on all cylinders," as my dad likes to say.  It would have been very easy to convince myself to stay in bed and lounge about the house.  But instead, not only did I work out, but I then walked the mile and a bit to my friend M's house and then walked around some more, before trodding back to my place in the pouring rain (I figure I burned more calories with the deluge as an obstacle).  And I felt great!  Totally sweated out whatever yuckiness was hanging on to me that day.

I used to have a lot of rules for the gym, but it was mostly to do with avoiding things I didn't like.  Back in the day when the Illustrious N first introduced me to the idea of "going to the gym," like, a co-ed one with weights and stuff, I was convinced that I couldn't eat before exercising because it made me nauseous (turns out if you don't stuff yourself at every opportunity during the day, you don't feel sick when you work out.  Amazing.)  I also liked going first thing in the morning, to "get it out of the way," and because going later ensured that I had eaten something already and then it was all downhill from there. Another rule was that I had to do both cardio and weights, and if there was only time for one, then there might as well not be time for either, so forget it. I recognize that I had built a tapestry of rules to make it more and more impossible for me to actually exercise, so I'm attempting to give some of that up.  Especially by going at times when it's convenient, rather than only going first thing or not at all.  Just because I like going in the morning better doesn't mean that life works out that way.  And, as we are teaching my goddaughter, sometimes we have to do things we don't like. So I'm mixing it up.  Hopefully tonight J and I will have a late-night gym date at like 10pm or something.

Eventually, I'm going to need plan for going to the gym that involves more than trying to survive Couch to 5K.  Everyone seems to have a different opinion on this, which is great, because I love hearing them all and getting ideas.  My former WW buddy and good friend H (who as recently slimmed down like nobody's business and looks effin' fabulous) touted her love of weight training in her journey to healthfulness, so I tried some yesterday, which was good.  But I definitely need a plan.  And I don't think I can just do what J does but less poundage.  I'm considering ordering (is that what you call it? ha) a personal trainer for a couple of sessions to help me come up with a plan.  However, I have a slightly more ballsy endeavor waiting for me and I just need to get on it...more on that later, promise.  But all that'll have to wait another week, as it's back to reality starting tomorrow.

As you might expect, things are sore. Various parts of my body are beginning to crack, creak & cry out when I do something in a way it doesn't like. It's not that I mind this part so much, but it makes me painfully aware that I'm not getting any younger, and I'm always afraid some ouchy part will be permanent or damaging. Long gone are the days of twisting my ankle every other week playing volley ball in middle school and walking it off.  I actually understand why coaches make kids do that now --  "Trust me, buddy, you CAN walk it off. Someday, "walking it off" will not solve this problem, so for the time being, suck it up."

Perk #1 of Fit Anniversary: new clothes.  Actually, I hope this will be an ongoing perk, come to think of it.  But in this case, they are all ginormously-sized workout clothes from my favorite store: the Bullseye Boutique (think about it...get it?!  Hilarious.).  Lord help a girl with a rediscovered Target gift card in her wallet and all the gym clothes on supersale. Apparently this is a trait I inherited from my Grandma Marge, who could never resist a good sale, and would spend just as much money and twice as much time in her hunt for a good bargain.  "Nine bucks? Cool. Wait, this is SIX dollars?  This too?!" and then I sort of black out until I get up to the register and observe the climbing total.  Luckily we can afford it (for now) and I'm convinced that brightly colored gear in blues and pinks and purples will be a bit more inspiring for the gym than the same black gym shorts I've had since I was in high school and some over-sized commemorative t-shirt from events and vacations past.  J's concern was that (hopefully) they won't fit me for long, but truthfully that's a problem I'd love to have.

PS -- thank you to all the church-folk who were so supportive about this project today! I've really appreciated all the notes, comments and cheerings-on.  Seriously guys, this is more helpful that I can even describe. It's also been nice to hear that my endeavors have been inspiring for others as well.  Let's keep it up, folks!  "I think we can, I think we can..."  :)

Gotta Start Somewhere

Hello friends, fitness enthusiasts, and all others who have stumbled upon this particular rant.

Firstly, a warm and hearty THANK YOU for all your support, both here and on Facebook.  This is most assuredly not going to be easy, and I am a ready and willing recipient of any and all good vibes you can send our way.

Today, I stepped on the scale for the first time in a shamefully long time.  Somewhere deep down I knew it was going to be bad, so I fixed my best-guessed number in my head and concentrated on that.  The good news: there is definitely room for me to lose my share of this 100 lbs.  The bad news: the scale read quite an unpleasant number.  One, in all my years of diets and detours, I've never actually laid eyes on before. This is a new low (er, high?) for moi.  I can't deny the part of me that wants to cry about it.  Because no matter how  often magazines and self-help folks try to tell us, it's very difficult not to ascribe meaning to the number that pops up on the scale.  On the other hand, there is the part of me that responds with a resounding "aw, HEYL no."  Get thee to a gymnasium.

Incidentally, one of  the ladies at work was stuck in the elevator today for like, 40 minutes. I'm interpreting that as a sign and taking the stairs from now on.

So, with fear of the scale in mind and bolstered by the support and encouragement from you all, I headed to the (dun dun duuunn) GYM.  Lemme tell you, it's been a while.  Having been reminded of the benefits of cardio by my friend JChen, I decided on the dreaded treadmill and the smooth sounds of This American Life and Couch to 5K.  As expected, my conditioning had slipped since the Operation Oliver 5K, during which I proudly finished a) not last, and b) not dead.  Everything seemed be going fairly well until, for some unknown reason, the treadmill stopped and gave me my "workout summary" about halfway through said workout.  In fact, I restarted it two other times with the same result; it just quit on me.  So I have no idea how far I went or how many calories I burned.  But it was a good chunk of time and, most importantly, I felt good afterward.  Despite being red-faced, dripping with sweat and trying to smile-off the concerned looks of the surrounding undergrads ("No guys, I am not having a heart attack. I always look/sound this way when I work out.  NBD.").

Inspired by my feat of exercise and the delectable crop of goodies I swiped from my dad's garden whilst home last weekend, tonight's dinner was pretty fabulous, if I do say so myself.  Though I initially was tempted to succumb to over-instagraming food pictures, I thought I'd just share the recipe (or a rough estimation of one) instead.

This is my MIL, rooting around in my Dad's world-famous garden

Latvian Salad Salmon

(so called because of my take on the cucumbers, tomatoes and sour cream mixture that my mother calls Latvian salad, though I'm pretty sure it's a staple of most cuisines in that part of the world).

for the fish: 
one or two salmon filets, skin intact
1 (or so) teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper

for the dressing/topping:
1/4 to 1/3 cup light sour cream
1 to 2 tablespoons capers, drained
one medium or large tomato, chopped
half a cucumber, washed, with skin, chopped
splash pickle juice (lemon juice would also work, but my mom swears by pickle juice because it adds a good flavor with the tang)

Preheat broiler.  Make sure rack is about 5-6 inches from the flame.  Put tin foil over your broiler pan so as to eliminate stuck fish and messy cleanup.  Spray foil with Pam.  Wash fish, pat dry, place skin-side down on foil.  Pour a titch (this is another technical term from my mother meaning "just a little bit") of EVOO on each filet, rub with your fingers to distribute.  Sprinkle with S&P.  Broil for 10 or so minutes, depending on the thickness of your filet.  Best to start at about 8 and check for doneness (when it flakes apart easily and is a uniform color, e.g., not more pinky in the middle).

While the fish cooks, chop your veggies and put in a mixing bowl.  Add capers, sour cream, pickle juice and mix.  Season with S&P to taste.  I also added some Mrs. Dash at this point, and dill is usually a must (but alas, I had none).   Mix in seasonings and let meld for a few minutes.  Taste and see if you like it.  If not, add more of what you do like.  The mixture will be somewhat runny, but will firm up once you put in on the fish.  Once the fish is out of the oven, put in on a plate and spoon the Latvian salad mixture generously over the filet.  I mean, cover that thing, maybe add some to the side, cuz it's gonna be good, and you're gonna want more.


Happy gyming and eating everyone!

Readiness for Change

In my line of work we talk a lot about the Stages of Change. Way back in 1983, psychology icons Prochaska and DiClemente developed this model to characterize where people are at any given point in the journey of changing behavior. Whether it's addiction, smoking cessation or whining, the idea is that people work their way through these stages and, quite often, relapse into old habits.

You know it's legit when there's a chart.

I would say I am currently squarely in the preparation stage. I'm aware of obstacles. I'm wanting and waiting to change. I can say I'm ready to change, but for the aforementioned obstacles. I'm taking steps to mitigate said obstacles and makes plans for success. I think J is here with me too, but if we were to gradate the stages, he's much closer to Action than I. But I can see it from here. It looks daunting, but also exciting. Like we're embarking on some grand, fat-melting adventure.

J and I have had our individual journeys into various realms of weight loss. Ups and downs, expansions and contractions, fit and flabby. Lately, things have gotten pretty out of control, and not in the good way. We could make our excuses for why we find ourselves in this position, and they'd be good ones too. But this blog is not a sob story. It is not a pity party. It's designed to be a chronicle for confidence and comebacks. An archive for accountability.

THE GOAL
Lose a combined total of 100 pounds by our fifth wedding anniversary. There will also be other fitness goals along the way, but this is the overarching one.  I want to find a counter or something...stay tuned.

THE PLAN
There are a few parts to this plan.  Numero Uno:

Weight Watchers.

Regardless of what you think of Weight Watchers (henceforth known as WW, because I'm just that lazy), this is the cornerstone of Fit Anniversary.  The model of WW has a few things going for it, and that's not even counting Jennifer Hudson looking bangin' in the commercials.

1. It works.  At least for me.  First time around, my old college roomie, bridesmaid and good friend H and I did it when we lived together and I solidly dropped about 25 pounds and managed to keep it off for 3 years or so.  Since then I've had at least two other occasions when I was doing the WW thing on the regular and successfully lost weight every time.  The problem is actually doing it.  And going to meetings. 
2. Accountability.  One of the core tenets of WW is that you have to go at least once a week, stand on a scale in front of another human being, and own up to the consequences of your decisions--the good, the bad and the misguided.  
3. It's healthy. For realsies.  To be honest, part of me would really like to starve myself for a few days at a time, consuming only grapefruit and that disgusting concoction of cayenne pepper, maple syrup and a bunch of other crap J used to make when going on weight loss binges a few years back.  But that's not sustainable and, like I said, disgusting.  Besides which, I don't do well with wholesale deprivation.  Tell me I can't eat carbs and all I want is a loaf of crusty Italian bread slathered in butter. The nice thing about WW is that nothing is off limits.  I have a budget, I stay within it.  Easier said than done, but you get the idea.

The Plan Part Duex: 

Actually Exercising.

This is a toughy for both of us.  J is better at maintaining an exercise program once he's into it.  He also has things he enjoys doing, like swimming.  I, on the other hand, hate exercising.  I get no joy from the process or activity of working out. I don't mind sweating, I don't mind the after-aches.  But I am not one of those people who "has to" exercise.  My dear friend N is one of those awe-inspiring creatures.  I wish there was a bone in my body that felt this way.  So instead, I must force myself.  Here too, are some parts to this piece of the plan.

1. Going to the gym.  I know, right?  Obviously.  This requires purchasing the membership to the gym of where I go to graduate school, which is actually very reasonably priced for both J and I.  It's hard to get past the droves of undergrad co-eds in their body-hugging work out gear while I sweat my ass off in oversized t-shirts and get red in the face. But...we can't afford much else, and it's a perfectly good gym if I can just go.
2. Baby steps.  By this I mean things that are totally doable and small.  For example, taking the stairs whenever possible.  I'm not going to quit watching cooking shows or real housewives, but I will do situps or pushups during the commercials (another great idea from the illustrious N).  
3. Active dates.  This is my favorite part of this plan. Hopefully this will include things like hiking pretty places around the city, rock climbing and other sorts of adventures.

Another rather large piece of my professional life is to do with words. Hopefully this blog thing will be yet another source of both accountability and support. So if you feel inclined to comment, please do. The same goes for the words I write. You can never really know how much power your words hold, but better to hope they are heard than to silence something that could make a difference.


Here goes nothing!