What’s Next?

Today I learned what people sometimes call a “valuable lesson.”

For months now I’ve been doing my best to lose weight and become more healthy through, what can best be described as, shot in the dark fitness.  I’m a big believer in the idea that what works for one person may not work for another, so I read a lot, experiment more and adjust my thinking all the time, trying to figure out what works for me.  It’s all a guessing game and the one and only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know much of anything.  It’s not all bad news, of course… I mean, on the food front, I feel like I’m getting better all the time.  Even though I am by no means perfect, I’ve discovered some truths about myself and my body over the last several months and I know I’m far closer to understanding myself as an eater than I ever was before.

The exercise component of this equation, however, still remains a bit of a mystery.

Before deciding that it was time to take control of my life last summer, I *never* exercised.  And I do mean never.  Not only did I not “work out” (in any sense), my lifestyle was completely sedentary.  I’d tailored my jobs such that I spent most of the time sitting down, I did no yard work, very little housework and I never even thought about taking a walk in the evenings or during the summers when I was off.  Seriously, I can remember literally sitting in my car for, who knows how long, idling along in the parking lot of a store, waiting for another car to leave one of the front spots just so I wouldn’t have to walk very far.   I was a complete blob.

Nowadays, things are a little different.  Now I walk almost every night.  I have an exercise bike at home that I used all winter (it’s collecting dust now, but that’s just because it’s nice outside).  And I make the effort to move my ass from here to there, rather than spend all my time sitting on it.  But I have to admit, as far as exercise goes, that’s really it.  Every once in awhile I’ll do a 30 minute workout that I see on fitTV or I spend a few minutes lifting my little 5lb hand weights.  But that’s all.

Having said that, for a little while now I’ve been pondering what the next step for me — exercise wise –  should be.  With the amount of vigorous walking that I do, I feel like I’m getting a good amount of cardio in.  But I’m totally lacking in the strength training department.  And that’s a problem, because while I’m losing weight, I’m not losing that much flab.  My stomach is still huge and I’m fairly convinced that if I flapped my arms hard enough, I could probably take off.  I just feel like it’s time for me to start building muscle, but doing that requires equipment and knowledge that I simply don’t have.

And so enters the gym dilemma.

Here’s the thing, I’m NOT a gym person.  I absolutely abhor the notion of going into a room, full of (rock hard fit) people I don’t know, and doing the horrid, embarrassing, sweaty, smelly things that are required to peel off yet another layer of my fat.  Just thinking about it makes me cringe.  And yet, I know that if I’m really serious about all of this being about more than simply losing weight and if I’m honest when I say that I don’t just want to be thin not fat anymore, that I truly want to be healthy, then I’m going to have to do *something* besides walk each night.

So… today, I went to the gym.

A girlfriend of mine belongs to a local gym and for a couple of months now she’s been singing its praises and telling me that I should go along with her.  She really wants me to join (she says she’s desperate for a workout buddy) and so she offered to let me use a few of the free guest passes that she is given each month.   I told her that I would go once school was out, so she called me yesterday and we made a date to meet at the gym this morning.

The truth is, despite all my hesitation, I went into it with a pretty open mind.  I even told my husband this morning while he was brushing his teeth that I was kind of excited about it.  But by the time I got into the car and was heading there, my excitement was bubbling over.  I had the top down in my car, my shades and my work out clothes on and my “gym bag” and two big bottles of water in the passenger seat.  I was going to “the gym” so I could “work out.”  I felt sooooo cool, man.

And then I got there.

My friend was waiting in the lobby.  She’d already told the receptionist, a size -2 teenager, about me.  They had me fill out some paperwork and then, because I was a guest, and not a member, I was on my own.  The place was HUGE.  There was a cardio room, a weight room, a pilates room, a yoga room, a full gymnasium, racquetball courts, a swimming pool, a locker room, and a smoothie bar.  All of which, were jam packed with people whose combined body fat didn’t equal even a 10th of mine.

But still, I trudged on.

I started in the locker room where I was greeted by lots of half naked to completely naked skinny girls.  A dream come true for others, perhaps, but no so much for me.  Luckily, I was able to find my way to a locker with my eyes closed, where I stored my stuff and then fumbled my way out and upstairs to the cardio room.  There I found an open spinning machine.  The moment I sat down, the size 0 girl to my left groaned.  She literally groaned.  I tried to smile and make eye contact, but she wasn’t having any of it. She rolled her eyes and groaned as if to say “oh great.” Apparently, sitting next to a fat girl at the gym was not her idea of a quality work out.  But, not to be deterred, I spent the next 10 minutes trying to figure how to a) adjust the seat so that I could actually reach the pedals, b) get both of my feet into the plastic strappy things and c) turn the damned thing on.  Of course, I was in the front row.  Lots of people saw me struggling.  No one offered to help.  Eventually, however, I worked it all out and then, at last…  I was ready to spin!

And spin I did.  For 20 whole minutes.  I set the machine to a program that went from lower to higher intensity in small graduated spurts.  I pushed the resistance up to what seemed like a low to medium range and then I spun my little legs off.  The entire time,  the same phrase kept running through my mind:  “Don’t look at anyone… Don’t look at anyone… Don’t look at anyone… Fuck! You looked at someone!” <Repeat.>  I tried to watch one of the 10 televisions that were mounted to the wall, but I kid you not, they were ALL set to the food network.

*sigh*

After my 20 minutes of spinning, I took my jello legs back downstairs where I watched (but did not join) the pilates class (which my friend was a part of).   At this point I was very tempted to give up.  I cannot tell you how out of place and uncomfortable I felt, but instead I decided to head back upstairs to the weight room to see what strength training, which was why I was there in the first place, was all about.  Two things I noticed right away:  a) everyone in the weight room looked *very* serious about pumping iron and b) every single one of them had a trainer/friend either telling them how to do it or cheering them on while they were doing it.  And it was then that I realized that there was no way I was ever going to be able to do that.  I watched for a few more minutes but then headed back downstairs where I dodged more naked girls, grabbed my stuff and then left.   And I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved as I did the moment I walked out that door.

On the way home, I called my friend to apologize for leaving early.  She didn’t answer, of course, but I left her a voice mail and explained that the gym simply wasn’t for me.

At this point, the old me would have headed to the nearest Burger King to drown my sorrows/embarrassment in an elephant sized order of french fries, but instead I went home, threw about a dozen blueberries into a cup of yogurt and sat down to write this post.

And here’s the really surprising part: I’m not upset at all about it.  Truly.  In fact, the more I think about it, the more thankful I am that I had the chance to go and to confirm what I already suspected.  Sure, it was all very embarrassing and uncomfortable, but it’s over now and I’ve learned something:  I am not a gym person.  The gym is not for me.  Great.  Now I can cross that option off my list.

The thing to do now, of course, is to figure out what *is* for me.  Clearly, this is easier said than done and the truth is, I haven’t a clue where to begin.  If the gym isn’t for me, then I don’t have that many options left, beyond buying more exercise equipment to keep here — but that doesn’t really solve the problem of not knowing how to use it.  *shrugs*  For now, I’m not going to worry.  I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing *and* do my best to have a little faith in myself.  I may not have all the answers, but I’ve done alright so far.  I’m sure, given a little time, I’ll figure this out too.

*fingers crossed*

Good Enough

Listen to this…

Perfectionism may seem like a desirable trait, but to boost your health, aim for “just enough.” “Trying to do everything right promotes an all-or-nothing attitude,” says Martin Binks, PhD, a psychologist at the Duke Diet and Fitness Center in Durham, NC. So if you can’t do something perfectly (i.e., work out an hour a day), you don’t do anything at all (i.e., watch TV instead).

And this…

A better mindset: Believe that every little bit counts. “It’s small changes that are most effective,” Binks says. So forget perfect!

Gosh. This really hits home for me. Though I would never label myself as a perfectionist, I can definitely remember numerous instances wherein my attitude has fallen into the “all-or-nothing” category. Although it seems silly, I frequently find myself thinking things like, “well, it’s too late to exercise for a full hour, so what’s the point?” or “If I’m not going to walk my full 3 mile route, then why bother walking at all?”

I’m telling you, this kind of stuff is hard to admit, because frankly, it sounds like the rantings of a complete lunatic, but if I’m going to be completely honest then I have to tell you that I also play these kinds of games with food. Let’s say, for example, that on my way to work I inexplicably find myself at Starbucks sucking down an iced venti no whip white mocha (which happens more frequently than I care to admit)… often, later in the day, I will use that slip up as an excuse to NOT make the right choices AGAIN: “Well, I already drank about 500 calories this morning, so I might as well eat this brownie, right?” I fall into the “all-or-nothing” mentality, adopting a “what’s the point?” attitude as though one (albeit big) slip-up has ruined the entire day.

And here’s the thing, that kind of defeatism is not only unhealthy, but it’s also really, really stupid.

And what’s more, I realize it’s just an excuse, an easy way for me to bargain my way out of having to exercise or eat right at all, but man, I don’t think I really realized how much I did that until I read this article in which the authors outline what they call the Good Enough Guide to Healthy Living. In each category they identify the “gold standard,” or the things that we would all do every day in a perfect world… but then they go onto to discuss what they term “good enough” goals *and* the significant health benefits that can result from even making small changes in your life.

The exercise one was a biggie for me, but there’s something to be learned, I feel, from their suggestions in all of the categories.

That said, I think part of my problem lately has been that I started expecting way too much of myself. I had a few kick-ass months, ate right, exercised frequently and took off more weight than I ever thought possible, but it was wrong to expect that kind of performance, and thus those kinds of results, from myself all of the time. Even though I didn’t see it at the time, it’s clear to me now that I set my goals a little too high and when I found myself in a position where I couldn’t achieve them, I just threw my hands up in the air and said “why bother?”

*sigh*

You know, so many of my favorite weight-loss bloggers have been quiet lately, and I have to tell you that I’m worried that they too are adrift in a high calorie, low self-esteem sea. To that end, a long time ago, Krissie wrote a post that I’ve actually quoted several times now. In it she said…

I am a new person most of the time. And that’s good enough. I’m never going to be perfect. But I can be healthy repeatedly, and let that crowd out my mistakes.

I know she gets tired of me quoting her all of the time, but I think there’s a lot of wisdom in those words. Furthermore, I think that if we all cut ourselves a little slack now and then, we’d probably all be far better off.

So… however I go about getting back in the swing of things *this* time, I know one thing for sure. I’m going to really, really try to not allow myself to fall into the trap of “all-or-nothing.” Like Krissie, I too am a new person *most* of the time. And, I bet if you think about it, you are too. None of us are going to be perfect all of the time. But we *can* do the right thing repeatedly. And the thing I’m starting to realize is… that really *is* good enough.

Deja Voodoo

There’s something about the phrase “in real life” (when used to describe someone’s activities in the world outside their computer) that has always bugged me. Like most people, I’ve had an online life for at least 10 years now, and if there’s one thing that I’ve learned from those experiences it’s that the people you meet online are real. You might not be able to break someone’s nose online, but you can surely break their heart. You might not be able to hold their hand, but you can surely comfort and support them. And while you may never know exactly what some of your online buddies look like (physically, anyway), in my experience, online relationships can be, in many ways, more honest than the, so called, “real” ones.

Maybe that’s why I struggle sometimes with using events in my “real life” as an excuse for neglecting my online one. I don’t like the notion of putting one aspect of my life ahead of another… though I know sometimes we don’t have a choice. Things happen and, whether we like it or not, our priorities shift as a result.

That said, as many of you know, in my real other life, I’m a public school librarian. I spend my days talking to 14 year olds about books, producing student created pod and vodcasts, teaching classes in broadcast journalism, storytelling and public speaking, thumbing through catalogs, meeting with vendors, and, on really good days, opening up boxes upon boxes of shiny new books. Seriously… it’s a good gig and I love it.

One of the major perks of being a *school* librarian, of course, is the fact that, like teachers, I get the summers off, and for me, summer officially begins Monday. *cue Alice Cooper song* I’ve been doing this for 11 years now, and let me just say that it never loses its allure. I’m just as excited about sleeping in on Monday as I was when I was 9 and that first Monday when I *should* have been getting up for school, but I actually got to sleep in, finally rolled around.

What most people don’t know, however, is that the weeks just before school gets out are hell. There’s so much to do and *never* enough time to do it. I don’t know about other people in my profession, but I *always* end up working lots of extra hours in order to get everything finalized before leaving for the summer… and even then I still end up with a lot of items NOT crossed off my to do list. You’d think, by now, I’d be used to it, but I *still* fall apart during the last few weeks of school — and this year was no exception.

The thing is, you’d also think that, after all these years, I’d have figured a few things out. You’d think that since I know that the last few weeks of school are going to be a nightmare that I’d take steps to simplify other aspects of my life. For example, maybe the last few weeks of school aren’t the best time for me to join online challenges and outline my own 10 step program for losing weight. Rather, maybe, the last few weeks of school would be a good time for me to focus on the goal of simply maintaining my already achieved weight loss rather than reaching for more. Maybe, and this will sound crazy, I know, but maybe the last few weeks of school are the wrong time for me to set any goals at all. Seriously, you’d think, after all these years, I’d have figured stuff like that out. But… you’d be wrong.

Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?

A few weeks ago I blogged about being at the point where I needed to either give in or start over. And the truth is, I’m *still* at that point. I haven’t given in, not by a long shot, but I haven’t started over either. I’ve been in this pudgy purgatory, if you will… making the right choices, occasionally, but usually following them up with a series of wrong ones; thinking a lot about how much I *want* to be back on track, without actually taking any steps towards making that happen; and not feeling strong enough to do what I know I should, but also not being able to truly enjoy this hiatus from being healthy. It sucks, because while I haven’t, by any stretch of the imagination, done the right things over the last few weeks, I haven’t enjoyed being off my “diet” either. As a matter of fact, I’ve kind of hated not eating properly. How screwed up is that?

In my absence, Paola wrote me an open letter on her blog The Food Confessional. Here’s part of it:

Whether or not you sometimes take a few steps back, you know how to eat to lose weight. You are stuck with this knowledge. You can never unknow it. And, now, when you go to Starbucks for a whipped cream coffee and a cake, you’re gonna feel like shit, spoiling your experience, because you will know it’s doing you harm.

Is this where you are now, stuck between a rock and a hard place?

In the end, you don’t have much choice, you must get back onto your diet. The alternative is to eat cakes and jars of peanut butter, but never really enjoying them as much as you used to, and always be miserable.

Man, is she right.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the last couple of weeks it’s that going back to simply not caring about how I eat, whether or not I exercise, or how I treat the one body I’ve got just isn’t an option. Sure… I can stuff my face full of brownies and root beer (and believe me, I have), but whatever *joy* that kind of food once brought me, is long gone. Sure, I can eat them, and they taste good, but now there’s always an aftertaste. Whether I like it or not, my mind *always* involuntarily starts adding up the calories. And there’s something about those numbers whispering in your ear that kind of ruins the whole experience, you know?

So… here I am.

Starting over.

Again.

The truth is, I don’t really have a master plan for the next few weeks. I think I need to take it slowly and start thinking about all of this through the “one pound at a time” lens that helped me lose weight in the first place. What I don’t need to do now is bite off more than I can chew. I *need* to experience some success this week and the only way I’m going to do that is if I take it slowly.

Here’s what I know for sure:

• Counting and recording my calories is not optional. The simple truth of the matter is that when I hold myself accountable in that way, I do much, much better. I realize that food diaries are not for everyone, and as much as I’ve tried to convince myself that I could do it without recording what I eat, at this point in the game, I simply need that extra step.
• I hate exercising, but I have to do it. Enough said.
• Drinking calories is stupid. In the last few weeks I’ve gone from drinking 3+ liters of water a day to falling back into the habit of taking in hundreds of liquid calories a day in the form of icy coffee drinks and/or other fizzy caffeinated concoctions. No more.
• Portion size is (still) a problem. I may blog more about this at a later time, but for now, I’ll just say that my portion sizes have been creeping back up. If I’m going to be successful, I know that this is an issue that I have to tackle.

And that’s all… for now.

I guess the bottom line is that at no point over the last few weeks did I ever think about giving up. I always knew that, sooner or later, I’d be exactly where I am now, a bit ashamed of myself for not doing the right things for so long, but knowing that it’s never too late to start doing them again. Thank you again to everyone who nudged me back sooner, rather than later. I continue to be grateful to you guys for just being so cool. To me, you guys are *real* and amazing and you constantly inspire me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok. At the risk of making this post even *longer* I’ve found myself in the awkward position of having been tagged (again). Here’s the thing: I suck at these things. I can never think of anything windswept and interesting to say, so I usually just decline politely and hope like hell that the tagger (me being the taggee) will continue to like me despite my inept rudeness. But… since this one is short and I simply can’t bring myself to say no to Fat Bridesmaid, I’ll do my best to play along. Apparently, I’m supposed to tell you 5 things about myself that you might not otherwise know… and then I’m supposed to tag 5 other people. So… *takes deep breath* here goes nothing:

Boring facts about me:

1. I’ve been wearing a Make Poverty History wristband since 2005. So far, poverty hasn’t gone away… but I still wear it. Every day. I’m like Johnny Cash, only not as cool.
2. I once won second place in a short story contest. I got $500.00 and my story was published in a small collection that I’m sure no one bought. I was driving when I got the call that I’d won second place and I nearly drove off the road. I still have the stub from the check they sent me.
3. I drive a yellow, VW bug convertible with a black top. I call it my bumblebeetle. Which leads me to….
4. My house was once overrun by wood boring yellow jackets (not carpenter bees). It’s a long, long (long) story, but by the time I figured out what was happening, there were (this estimate was given to me by the “bee man” who, without any protective gear, goggles or gloves, cut giant holes into my walls and removed the entire yellow jacket nest, by hand, in order to find and kill the queen bee) between 35 and 40 THOUSAND yellow jackets living in my walls. It was like something out of a B (har!) movie. At the time, as you might imagine, it was a horrifying experience, but since then, bees have sort of become my symbol.
5. When I was in college, I worked at one of those stores where everything is a dollar. The town where I lived and worked at the time was a very touristy spot and home to a small movie studio where several major motion pictures/television shows have been filmed…. so it wasn’t uncommon to see celebrities, even in the dollar store. Anyway, one time Delta Burke came into the store and she bought 50 key chains, all of which read: “I’d slap you, but shit splatters.”

Ok. So now I’m supposed to tag some other unsuspecting bloggers, but rather than slap the yoke of internet fodder around anyone’s neck, I’ll just say that I’d love to learn 5 things about anyone who would like to play along. So… if you’re reading this and want to post a few bits of flotsam and jetsam about yourself on your blog, go for it! Consider yourself tagged. I’m sure yours will be far more interesting than mine. :)

Oooh! And thanks to Fat Bridesmaid for wanting to know more about me. Your kindness and curiosity make me blush.