Starting Over, Take 1,847

I recently added a new (old) book to my collection of exchange-based diet and cookbooks.  The 1988 Weight Watchers’ Quick SUccess Program Cookbook by Jean Nidetch (the founder of WW).

The plan is unnecessarily complicated in my opinion,  Rather than allowing you the full list of exchanges - you begin with a limited list for each exchanges, and the food lists are expanded each week until week 5. Week 5 is the full plan, and no changes are made afterward.  It seems logical to me, to just start with week 5).   Because the carb and calorie contents are still quite similar within all choices within each exchange group, there’s no logical reason (in my opinion) to limit the lists (except as a marketing ploy by WW to keep you coming back, at least for the first five weeks until you have the whole plan.  They still do this today with the point system). 

One thing I love about the 1988 and subsequent WW exchange plans is the floating exchanges and optional calories.  It’s a nice way to ”count” combination exchanges and foods that really don’t fit well into any of the exchanges (I was never comfortable counting table sugar as some plans do).    The floating exchange was an optional exchange (after week 5) that you could spend on a fruit, protein, bread, or milk exchange.  Joann Lund in her Healthy Exchanges series of books uses a similar system, though I believe she calls her flexible-choice exchanges ”flexible exchanges” rather than floating exchanges. 

Since I have no interest in changing the format of my exchange plan, I didn’t buy this book for the program (though for anyone who is curious, I’ll describe the basic plan from the book at the end of my book review), but rather for the recipes.

It’s an “old-school” cookbook in that most recipes do not come with photos, and none of the photos are paired with the recipes (instead they’re grouped together in clusters of several glossy pages, distributed throughout the book).  The recipes themselves are written on matte paper, and the nutritional information is at the bottom of each recipe.  This is a vast improvement over some older Weight Watcher’s cookbooks in which the nutritional information was not listed with the recipes, but rather was listed in an appendix at the end of the book.  So you had to look up the information every time you made the recipe (or write it in the margins of each recipe.

As far as the recipes go, they’re fairly standard for the time.  A nice variety, but nothing too far from the ordinary.  A nice basic, “white bread american-style” cookbook, with the occasional americanized asian or latin inspired dish.  A nice addition to my collection, but not a must-have (not that I’ll be givng it away any time soon).

The Plan as described in the book:

The first number is the number of exchanges for women,  Exchanges for men and youths are in parenthesis - except for the milk exchanges in which case only the youth’s servings are in paranthesis.  Adult men get the same number of exchanges as women.
Week 1

Fruit 2-3 (3-4)
Veg 3, at least
Fat 3 (3)
Protein 5-6 (7-8)
Bread 2 (4)
Milk 2 (3)

Optional:
Floating 0 (0)
Optional calories 150

Week 2

Fruit 2-3 (3-4)
Veg 3, at least
Fat 3 (3)
Protein 5-6 (7-8)
Bread 2-3 (4-5)
Milk 2 (3)

Optional:
Floating 0 (0)
Optional calories 200

Week 3

Fruit 2-3 (3-5)
Veg 3, at least
Fat 3 (3)
Protein 5-6 (7-8)
Bread 2-3 (4-5)
Milk 2 (3-4)

Optional:
Floating 0 (0)
Optional calories 300

Week 4

Fruit 2-3 (3-5)
Veg 3, at least
Fat 3 (3)
Protein 5-6 (7-8)
Bread 3 (5)
Milk 2 (3-4)

Optional:
Floating 0 (0)
Optional calories 400

Week 5 and onward

Fruit 2-3 (3-5)
Veg 3, at least
Fat 3 (3)
Protein 5-6 (7-8)
Bread 3 (5)
Milk 2 (3-4)

Optional:
Floating 1 (1)
Optional calories 500

Guidelines:

No more than 3 eggs
No more than 4 oz of hard or semisoft cheese (”slicing” cheese. Cottage cheese would be ok any time)
No more than 12 ounces of limited meats (red meats such as lamb, beef, and pork).
Between 9 and 15 ounces of fish or shellfish

I’ve bought jicama in the grocery store, and was disappointed.  They were expensive, awkward to peel, and they didn’t have much flavor (which can be an asset in some dishes).  I thought the the wet crunchiness was nice, but just not worth the price and pain of peeling.

Then I discovered tiny jicama at our farmers’ market a few days ago.  I didn’t even know jicama could grow in northcentral Wisconsin. 

They’re not as round as those in the grocery store, they’re more knobby with a turnip-like root.  The skin is thin, and they’re the size of a small to medium sized apple.  Much easier to peel, and the texture is awesome.  They don’t have any more flavor, but that’s really what you get with jicama.  They’re sort of like crunchy water - very wet and bland - but perfect for adding crunch to salads, sandwiches, and stir-fries or to eat with a bit of seasoned salt or veggie dip (bet they’d be a good hummus dipper).

And the best part, the vendor sells them in bunches of 2 to 4 jicama (depending on size) for a dollar.

I’ve tried “hating myself” thin and I’ve tried “loving myself” thin.

The latter has been a whole lot more effective.  And it’s easier and alot more fun too.

Even at nearly 400 lbs, I didn’t hate myself, not even my appearance.  There were aspects of being fat I hated, but even those I didn’t dwell on, I had too much to do.

I’ve been dieting since I was 5 years old, more unsuccessfully than successfully.  The failures didn’t decimate my self esteem because there was so much I was successful at.

Even fat I had boyfriends.  I didn’t attract the cutest guys, or the greatest number, but I did attract funny, creative, and smart guys (no doubt because those were the strongest aspects of my own personality too).

I didn’t understand (at least not for many years) why many of my smaller, cuter friends (and later sisters) had more dating trouble than I did (attracting losers who would hurt them, or having trouble attracting someone at all).

I learned early that sexy is far more between the ears than anywhere else.  Funny, creative, and smart IS sexy.  Physical beauty is a short cut to be sure, but short cuts aren’t always the best path to travel. 

You don’t have to hate yourself or your body to succeed at weight loss.  You don’t have to think you’re ugly or useless. 

From experience I can say that losing weight and getting healthy as a way to take care of and even pamper yourself is a whole lot more fun than trying to power change through self-hatred.

Hatred is not a clean-burning fuel.  It pollutes your body, your mind, and your soul - and the environment (the social environment that is, hurting your relationships with other people, and hurting the people you care about as well).

It’s also hard to run on hatred for very long.  Hatred saps energy as much or more as it gives.  When you run out of hatred, you run out of steam, unless you have something to replace it with.  Positive emotions burn cleaner - they don’t sap your energies the way hatred can. 

A lot of people tell me I’m wrong, that they (and they believe most people)  need (or at least needed at one time) self-hatred to start the fire under their butt. 

Maybe both perspectives have valid arguments.  Maybe people are motivated by different things.  Maybe some people do need self-hatred, but I’ve never found it helpful in the long-run.  And weight loss is all about the long-run.  Losing weight temporarily can be harder on your mind and body than not losing at all.  So it’s all about sustainability.  What do you want to live on hatred or love?

I choose love.

I’ve decided to go back to TOPS (Taking Off Pounds Sensibly).  I wish hubby was joining with me, but he isn’t.  He said he’ll drive me to meetings but he’s not interested in joining himself.

Fair enough. 

TOPS is a non-profit weight loss support group.  Members can follow any diet they wish.  Most groups run contests or small incentives for weight loss and small disincentives for weight gain (such as small fines.  Some groups might charge a quarter for any gain, another might choose a nickel or dime per pound).

I always do better in group weight loss.  Something about that weekly weigh-in and wanting the positive reinforcement for weekly weight loss.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a pat on the back or getting my monthly dues waived because I met the requirement (some groups will waive monthly fees if you meet a target weight loss goal.  Three consecutive weight losses in a month, or a specific weight lost during the month. 

The weight gain fines work too, even though I’m not ashamed of admitting gains, and I’m certainly not concerned about the money (even on my budget a dime a pound isn’t going to break the bank) but there’s just a sense of pride in being able to avoid the fine basket, and a source of frustration when having to admit defeat (even a tiny defeat).

Whenever I’ve been a TOPS member in the past, I’ve always had more fun with weight loss.  Even on my own, I try to make weight loss fun, so there’s one less reason to give it up.  I shop ethnic markets for exotic fruits, I make little challenges with myself - but involving others “raises the stakes.”  My competitive spirit is awakened (and mostly in a positive way).

I have a bad habit though of abandoning the group when I decide that I’ve learned enough to do it on my own.  It’s a habit I don’t fully understand in myself.  I think largely it’s just habit - a habit I learned from my mother. 

I joined Weight Watchers for the first time when I was eight years old (the youngest you could join with a parent and a doctor’s permission slip).   Over the years, I would join and quit Weight Watchers many times witht my mother (and later as an adult on my own).   Whenever the weight loss would be going well, my mom would pull us from the club, saying we could do it on our own now (and of course we wouldn’t, not for very long anyway). 

Mom wasn’t intentionally sabotaging us.  Money was tight and Weight Watcher’s was pretty expensive.  When we were doing well, I think she really did think we had mastered the skills and could do it on our own.

I’ve proven that I can do it on my own, but I don’t do it “as well.”  The group dynamic is helpful.  It’s part of the secret to success for me.  I may be able to do it on my own, but it’s a lot easier to do it with a group.

So now that I know that about myself, failing to take advantage of it doesn’t make any sense.  Especially when it can be done as cheaply as through TOPS.  For about $26 I can join for the year (which includes a monthly newsletter/magazine).  A spounse or parent/child living in the same household can join for an additional $13 (which is why I wish hubby would join, maybe he will later).

Each group charges monthly dues (usually under $5 a month.  In our area $2 to $3 is about average).  The local groups in our area waive monthly dues for meeting the weight loss quota (in one group it’s 3 consecutive losses, in another it’s 1 lb per month, and there’s a third group I haven’t attended yet).

Before joining, this time, I decided to check out all three of the local groups.  I still have one group to try before I decide which I’m going to join.

The biggest barrier is me.  I still have that voice that says I can do it on my own, that I SHOULD do it on my own. 

On an entirely different topic (my health issues) my hubby and I recently had a large argument over my refusal to ask for help when I need it, or even when help isn’t needed but would be damned convenient.

I value my independence, I’ll give you that.  It’s hard for me to ask for help when I feel I can do it by myself.  I sometimes forget that getting help from others isn’t always about needing it, but about many hands making light work of difficult tasks.  Doing it alone sometimes does make sense, but turning down help just in order to do it alone, doesn’t always.

It just dawned on me, that I’m not trying to lose weight.

I don’t know why this is a revelation to me, since it’s really what I’ve planned all along.  When I started this journey, I vowed that weight loss was not going to be my goal, just a likely side effect of my goal.

No wonder, I get so snippy when people give me suggestions on ways to improve/hasten my weight loss, or when they comment upon or question the rate of my weight loss.

I’ve been arguing that the speed of weight loss isn’t the issue, but I’ve forgotten to argue that weight loss isn’t the issue.  Weight loss isn’t important.  Weight loss can even be unhealthy.  It matters HOW a person loses weight, because the weight loss isn’t the important part - the eating, thinking, and moving healthier is (and sometimes you can make progress in all three, and not lose any weight.  Sometimes progress in oine area can even result in temporary weight gain (many people avoid or postpone, adding in exercise for that very reason, because it can interfere with weight loss - at least temporarily.  The short-term becomes more important than the long-term).

If you’re eating healthy and moving healthy, you will eventually end up at a healthy weight.  Weight is one indicator of health, but not the only one -  but all our society cares about is the weight loss.

No one cares or asks about my blood pressure, my cholesterol, and all of the other indicators of health.  It’s so culturally ingrained- that while I initially knew weight loss wouldn’t be my only sign of progress, I’ve gradually lost sight of that.  Just like everyone else, I started forgetting, ignoring or discounting the other signs of progress, focusing only on the scale (Bad, Colleen).

Years ago, I vowed never to diet again (because diets have only ever ultimately resulted in weight gain for me), and I only began trying again after losing 20 lbs without trying (long story).  I wanted to capture and duplicate that experience of unintentional weight loss.  I vowed that I would commit to healthy changes in my life, regardless of whether or not they resulted in weight loss.

It’s not about losing faster, because it’s really not about losing weight at all. 

I’ve gotten alot of feedback, some of it constructive and some of it, not-so-much on the rate of my weight loss (mostly advice on how I could speed up the weight loss).  It’s all irritated me, but I just realized why.  I don’t need this advice, because I already know how to lose weight faster, and I’ve determined that is not the route for me.  Because when weight loss ismy only goal, or even my primary goal, I do unhealthy things to reach that goal.  Since my goal isn’t weight loss (at least not weight loss by any means), it’s important for me to work towards my true goal - Health, strength, and stamina.   I forget, when that sometimes my signs of progress for the month - aren’t weight related at all. 

So if weight loss isn’t my goal, why am I writing a weight loss blog, and visiting a weight loss site?

Good question (that I asked myself)……. and the answer is that maybe I shouldn’t be.  The weight loss isn’t my goal, it’s not even really the reward, it’s just a side effect (a happy side effect, but still only a side effect).   And yet, whenever I’ve tried to discuss my “real goals” it always comes back to weight loss (because I think it’s all we’re taught to care about).

When I started this journey about four to four and a half years ago, I vowed not to “diet,” or to focus on my weight.  I was going to make healthy changes that I could commit to whether or not they resulted in weight loss.   Changes that would improve my health, with or without weight loss.  For the first two years, there was no weight loss.  Even I tend to see those years as empty years.  Result-free years.  Years that at best, prepared me for success, not years I acheived it.

Ooh Boy was I wrong.  Not only did those years lay the groundwork, they were very effective in their own right.  I didn’t lose weight during those two years, but I was very successful in making healthy changes.  They were just changes that didn’t result in weight loss (but I didn’t regain any of the 20 I’d lost “accidentally” after my apnea treatment).

Even though my plan was not to focus on weight loss, I couldn’t help but do so when the weight started coming off.  I had too much practice in thinking that only the weight mattered.  I FORGOT that weight loss wasn’t the goal.  It was a forgetting that was gradual.  At first I said “weight loss isn’t my goal,” then “weight loss isn’t my primary goal…”  until I was talking less and less about anything but the weight loss.

My life is so different than when I’ve started, and some of my most dramatic health improvements have come at the expense, or at least with the absence of weight loss.     Losing weight to get health benefits, rarely worked very well for me, so I turned the focus on the health benefits not the weight.  Gaining health benefits was working so well, that it inevitably resultedg in weight loss.  I was so excited that I was losing weight “without really trying to” that I forgot that the aim was the health benefits, not the weight loss.

For most people, weight loss is the main point, some times the whole point.  At the very least, the weight loss is seen as the main indicator of the health improvements (whether or not any actually are occuring).

The fact is, most of us couldn’t care less about the health aspects of weight loss.  Or we want to believe it’s about health, but don’t pay attention to our health - only to our weight loss.

I’ve fallen into that trap, a trap I was consciously trying to avoid.

I feel like someone who builds a career upon what they love.  Initially it’s “not about the money,” but when the money starts rolling in, it becomes “about the money” and the person’s love for their career is lost.  Sometimes to the point that the abandon the money AND the career.

I don’t want to fall out of love with my new “career.”  The career of taking care of myself. 

I know I can lose faster, but I’d have to sacrifice some of my other goals to do it.  And all of those other goals were carefully chosen.  Deciding to lose faster, would require giving up other healthy goals.  I’d be moving away from my goal of health - to only one aspect of it.

 I’m wondering if I should get away from the weight loss boards for a while, and maybe even my 3FC blog - if it’s focused on a general state of well-being, and not weight loss does it really belong on 3FC? 

 Yesterday, I was so happy to be a whale.  Today, I feel beached (and someone ran over me with a truck in my sleep).

This does not bode well.  At least not for the next few days.

I overdid it at the pool yesterday.  Not just a little overdid it like last week.  The first time I’d been in the pool in a while, I was very careful in budgeting my time (last week that is) - 5 minutes of warm up, 20 minutes of moderate exertion, and 5 minutes of cool down.  I was sore the next day, and even more sore the following (with exercise, it always seems to hurt worst on the “day after the day after,”)

it’s only the day after, so I dread what tomorrow will bring.  You see, matching last week’s time wasn’t good enough.  Oh no, I had to beat last weeks time - by 15 minuts.  SO I spent 45 minutes in the water, most of it working as hard as I could.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I hurt all-over.  And not just in the places (muscles), I would expect to the day after my pool workout yesterday.

My ears hurting isn’t so unusual, as I could have gotten water in them, but it doesn’t explain why even my hair hurts (ok, I know hair can’t hurt, but my scalp does).

This screams fibro-flare to me.   I have fibromylgia.  Fibromyalgia is a pain disorder (more precisely a pain and fatigue disorder).  The source of the pain, for many years has been a mystery, though today doctor’s believe, and there’s strong research support for the condition being a neurotransmitter disorder.  Brain chemicals - too many, the wrong proportion…. in essence the brain is perceiving benign sensations as pain, because the pain receptors are firing when they shouldn’t (not that simple, but simple enough for my purposes in this post).  Because the brain controls every bodily process, fibro can manifest in an almost infinte set of symptoms.  Some people have even experience vision problems, including sporadic or temporary blindness, even colorblindness.  Glad to say that’s never happened to me (well I am colorblind, but I’ve always been - that’s not fibro, that’s genetics).

I know a good part of the muscle aches are legitimately from the physical workout.  I spent 45 minutes in the water.  30 of it, at an intense pace.  I felt strong, and I felt confident (I had escaped a serious flare last week, so obviously that meant a 50% increase in exertion was wise - ok, sometimes I’m not so smart).

Now, I feel crushed, flattened.  That truck didn’t just hit me, it ran over me and backed up to do it again - and again - and again.

The only reason I’m here at my computer monitor, and not still in bed is that I hurt too much to stay in bed.  I tried.  I took my pain medication, and waited for it to kick in.  Five minutes, seemed like an hour.  When I hurt like that, there’s only a few things that can distract me long enough to make the wait for pain relief bearable.  One of those is writing, so here I am.    

A few months ago, in April, when I had to have my referral to the warm water therapy pool, renewed I was telling my doctor how much I loved swimming, because it’s so hard to “overdo it” in the water…  He warned me to remember that it WAS possible.

His words came back to haunt me today (and I dread tomorrow).  It hurts so bad, it’s upsetting my stomach (which hasn’t happened in a very long time, maybe two years or more).

I suspect that only a narcotic like vicodin would offer full relief.  I don’t need to be pain-free, I just need to be functional.  That’s not likely to happen today.

I’m not really whining, as much as laughing at myself, especially my foolish pride.  This is embarassing, and yet I’m secretly also a little proud.  I haven’t had the opportunity to “overdo” a strenuous activity in a long time.  I did well yesterday in my workout, and last week today.  It made me cocky, I’m just going to pay for that cockiness for a few days.

I just noticed that it feels like someone sucked all the moisture from the surface of my eyeballs.  What’s up with that?!   They feel dry and sticky…. blinking hurts.  That’s how I know this is a fibro-flare, it seems very unlikely that I strained my eyeballs during water exercise, especially since I didn’t put my face in the water at all.  The water I got in my ears, was from the showers before and after, not from the pool.  

Hubby’s 90 year old grandfather (who has had severe back pain since he was a young man) says he thanks God every morning for the pain, it lets him know he’s alive.  He says the day he wakes up without pain, is the day God has called him home. 

I thank God that I no longer get that kind of reminder every morning.  It’s taken a while to get here.  There were days, at my highest weight, when a bullet to the brain, seemed like the only reasonable pain remedy.  I was never ready to relieve my pain so permanently, but the thought did occur to me.

At least I no longer have to sleep on an incline, and hubby and I can sleep in the same bed (actually two twins pushed together, so we can each have our preferred firmness).   Five years ago, I had such severe lung and sinus issues, that I had to jack up the head of my bed, about six to eight inches above the foot.  Literally, we used two car jacks (probably only needed one, but we weren’t taking any chances).  Hubby had to have a seperate bedroom, because he couldn’t sleep on the incline (feeling like he was falling out of bed kept him awake).  I didn’t really like it any better, but it was the only way to keep my lungs clear. 

The sensation of slipping out of bed was hard to get used to.  We had to “tuck” myself in very tightly, and even then by morning my covers would inevitably be on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Yeah, fun times (sigh).

It reminds me how lucky I am to be in this kind of pain, this morning.   As bad as it is in comparision to my normal, there was a time when much worse was normal.

Every time I get discouraged about the weight loss, and how slow I’ve progressed (in terms of the number on the scale), I remind myself of the wonderful changes I’ve experienced.   While my weight loss has been slow, my health improvements have not.  For most of my life, the reverse was true.  No matter how fast I lost the weight, the benefits of the weight loss was often lost on me.  I didn’t notice any dramatic improvements in appearance or health.  If I could walk further, it wasn’t so noticeable that I felt a surge of accomplishment.  The scale was my only accomplishment - and it never felt like enough.  Even when I lost 5 lbs in a week, I’d be disappointed that it wasn’t 7.  Two pounds felt like a slap in the face, and a stall or gain felt like a crushing blow.  I’d think “I’m never going to get this weight off.”

Now I’m losing a pound a month, and I’m usually happy as a clam about it (are clams really all that happy, do you think?  What makes a clam happy, what do they have to be so happy about, I’ve always wondered).

The weight hasn’t mattered all that much, because in the scheme of things my health improvements have been so dramatically noticeable, that I seem to have something to celebrate almost every week.   To the point that I’m starting to really think I will be able to get back to work (I’m on disability) before I reach retirement age.  I could lose all the weight, and still be disabled, but at least there’s hope (hubby’s health issues are degenerative.  Weight loss and the right exercise will slow progression of his joint degeneration, but at 17, when he was thin and athletic he was told he’d be on disability and probably in a wheel chair by age 30.  By pure stubborness, he made it to 35 before having to go on disability, and now at 40, he’s still wheelchair-free (but does need the electric cart at Walmart, if we’re going to be shopping for more than 20 minutes).

A couple years ago, I thought I was ready to go back to work (at least a little), and tested the theory by bartering a few hours in an artists’ co-op for the rental space for my crafts.  That didn’t work out so well.  I didn’t know that the shop had been a gas-station, and a dog and cat grooming shop (I’m allergic to cats, some cats more than others).  The owner of the shop also sold vintage clothes and furs, and the basement had mold.  The owner also used the small space as her studio, and she used a lot of strong solvents.  

I’ve never “huffed” inhalants before, but working in the shop wasn’t so much like breathing the toxic fumes from a bag, as much as being forced to sit inside the bag.

Long story, short - in only a few weeks, I had a major relapse of my autoimmune disease, asthma, and copd.  In hindsight, it was the worst possible choice of part-time jobs.  What was I thinking?  (When I wondered that aloud, dear hubby said he had been thinking it all along, but had kept quiet, wanting to support me.  Dear sweet, man I gave him permission to speak up, or smack me upside the head if there was a next time - figuratively of course on the smacking).

The pain meds are starting to kick in.  It’s only been a little under 90 minutes since I took them.  That’s a good sign.  During a really severe flare, it’s usually almost time to take the second dose before I start to feel better.  Any relief in less than two hours, usually means the flare is going to be pretty mild.

Looks like I don’t need the plate number on that truck, after all.

For almost as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to live in the water.  I was fat by five, and started taking swimming lessons by the time I was 6. 

I was slower, and clumsier than my friends - except in the water.  I didn’t even mind (well, not as much as you’d expect) that other kids would call me “whale.”   It’s great to be a whale (at least in the water).   I loved whales.  I loved dolphins.    I often pretended to be a whale or dolphin  in the water. 

Fat floats.  It’s an asset in the water, not a liability.  In the water, I could move.  I could push myself without getting winded, without my face feeling turning purple and feeling as if it were about to explode.

Not only that, I could COMPETE.  When I raced with my friends, I usually WON.  Yeah for me, yeah for the fat whale.

Even in grade school, I wanted to live in the water.  I would cry when my parents would force me from the water.  The water felt like my “true” home. 

In high school, in college, water was the great equalizer.  I could keep up, or even “beat” my thinner, more athletic friends.  In college, I had to take two semesters of P.E.  I took “independent study” so I didn’t have to deal with classmates.  The coach supervising my swim routine told me she was impressed with my swim routine, and remarked that her thin, athletic sister at another nearby college couldn’t keep up with my routine.

She meant it as a compliment, and I took it as one (well, 98% compliment, anyway) - but I bristled very slightly at the 2% insult (the astonishment that a fat girl could do better than a thin girl at any physical activity). 

Health problems have eroded my abilities in the water, but my abilities in the water still are much greater than my abilities on land.  Fibromyalgia, osteo- and possibly rheumatoid arthritis had added more limits.  In my 20’s, I once swam in a hotel indoor/outdoor pool during a blizzard.  It was a conference for detention (juvenile jail) workers.  I not only swam with thin coworkers, I persuaded them that it was an experience we all needed to have - “No, no no - not just the whirlpool.  Don’t just stick your toe in the cold, (cold, really cold) water - we’ve got to go outside, if only to be able to say that we did.  How often do you get the chance to swim outside during a blizzard.  Come on, it will be fun, it will be exciting, it will be COOL.”

I weighed 300 lbs, the water was 62 degrees.  It felt freezing when I stepped in (in the inside part), but the water felt like bathwater outside.  We jumped into snow banks to get cold, just so we could jump back in the water and feel warm.

I can’t swim in cold water anymore.  I can’t even swim in “normal” pool water anymore.  It freezes up my joints and makes me feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, and every bone feels like it’s broken.

So I swim in the warm water therapy pool.  The water is warm, sometimes almost as warm as bathwater.  A temperature much higher than I once would have considered “too warm.”  I still find it difficult to swim laps in water so warm.    So I tread water, but with “toys” that pump up the workout.

I use the “heaviest” water dumbbells. ”Weights” is a bit of a misnome, because the weights are styrofoam.  The largest weight weighing (on land) only a fraction less than the lightest.  But you don’t really “lift” the weights (at least not out of the water - that would defeat the entire purpose).  Rather you pull or push the dumbells under the water.  Forcing those large pieces of foam under the water is just as challenging (and works the muscles just as well) as lifting “real” weights on land.

It’s “better” though, because the water (even if it’s warm), wicks away the sweat.  And even the warmest water is usually still a few degrees below body temperature, so you overheat, much less quickly.

Be careful, though because you can do a lot more work in the water.   On land, if I tried to ride a bicycle and lift weights with the equivalent effort of what I did in the water today, I would have passed out in less than 5 minutes.  I wouldn’t have been moving constantly and often very strenuously for more than 45 minutes.  I can barely do a slow walk for 45 minutes on land.

Hubby  coaxed me out of the water, or I would have stayed longer.  I would have played longer.  I would have WORKED longer.

I guess I still want to live in the water.  I still want to be a whale (or a dolphin, or a seal).

Of course, I’m not any of those animals.  I’m a severely obese, physically disabled woman. And never do I realize that more than my first step back onto land.  Gravity, temporarily suspended, is upon me with full force.  My legs feel like rubber.  Can I make it to the locker rooms, will I need a shower chair (luckily there are shower chairs available, but I don’t need one  - at least not this time.  But thank goodness, they’re there if I need one).

Getting dressed seems to take more of my strength and energy than did the entire 45 minutes in the water.

Walking to the car, even harder.  Looks like I overdid it again.  I’m annoyed (I’m going to pay for this for a few days), but overjoyed as well.  On land my exercise is limited by my lungs.  In water, it’s limited by my muscles.  My muscles are stronger than my lungs.  If only I didn’t have to return to the land.

Hubby asks how my swim went. 

I say, “Great.”

He says, “Did you overdo it?”

I say, “probably.”

He asks, “Did you have fun?”

I say, “Most definitely.”

As we drive to to our home together,  I feel like we’re driving away from my “true” home.  It’s still the water.

I’m still a whale, and not ashamed of it.

Why am I losing so slow?  Why do I have such trouble sticking to my food plan?   It seems I’ve been asked this question in a dozen variations by family and friends, and most recently in a comment on my last post.

If I have all of this figured out, why is my behavior changes more dramatic/consistent and why is progress so slow?  Or If I know what I’m supposed to do, why am I not doing it all (or at least most) of the time?

The short answer is “It’s complicated, and I don’t always know myself.”

Firstly, it’s not a new question to me, nor a new question to the human race.  Why do I have such a hard time, doing what I want to do?  I’m not the first person to ask be asked that or the first person to ask myself this.   Men and women have been exploring this issue for at least 2,000 years (probably a lot longer).

As proof, The apostle paul writes in Romans 7:15

Paul was no slouch.  No couch potato, sitting on his butt doing nothing, and yet he struggled with the very issue.

Paul’s short answer is “sin,”  Humanity’s imperfections make our actions imperfect reflections of our intentions.

As a Christian, I suppose sin is as good an explanation as any.  As an agnostic, “human nature,” isn’t any worse an explanation.

My view is that weight loss is like juggling.  Every factor that contributes to your weight issues is a ball that you have to juggle.  For me, my carb-sensitivity and hormonal hunger issues are probably my largest “balls,” but they’re not the only ones.  There are dozens, if not hundreds of smaller balls.  Television food commercials - another ball.  Writing in my food journal, something I know I should do is another ball.  Avoiding food-cues (old food “habits”) another ball. 

Not only am I juggling weight control and health “balls,” I’m also juggling all of the other balls that life throws at me.  I’m not juggling two balls, or even twenty, I’m juggling hundreds, and if I’m dropping a few along the way, or not able to walk very fast while juggling, well it’s part of being human.

Just to list some of my life “balls” I’m juggling

My own health issues (each one it’s own “ball).

Autoimmune disease - this one’s sneaky.  It’s destroying or damaging tissue in my cartilage (eating a whole in my nose cartilage that could eventually cause the nose to collapse) and connective tissue - meaning it’s eating away at my respiratory tract, lungs, joints, and skin.    Treatment includes essentiall periodic bouts of steroids, hoping to get the disease into remission.  Steroids are real fun for weight loss because they reduce metabolism AND jack up hunger (to insane proportions).  Luckily I’ve been able to be steroid free for just over a year now.  Without the steroids it’s a crapshoot as to whether the disease is actually dormant (in remission) or just continuing to do silent damage.  Every few months, I’m checked for signs of new damage, and if there isn’t any or if there isn’t much, we wait.  If there’s sign of damage, I take steroids until it knocks the disease down again and we continue to wait.

Stress - it’s it’s own ball.  Even lab animals eat more under stress (especially carbohydrates).  Animals that have ever been food-restricted (put on a diet, if you will) tend to eat FAR more than animals who didn’t have that experience.  Animals that are from obesity-prone strains eat far more under stress than animals that don’t have those genes.  Animals that are from obesity-resistent strains tend to eat far less under stress than average.   Maybe this has some clue as to why eating under stress is my “normal” reaction. 

Fibromyalgia - Pain, fatigue, brain fog, memory-problems….  Fun, stuff (each symptom can be seen as it’s own ball).   To understand a bad flare of fibro, imagine having a bad flu - every muscle hurting.  Your skin hurting.  Even your hair hurts.  Now imagine having that flu and then getting hit by a truck. 

If I take really good care of myself, I have about 5 to 6 “down” days a month.  Days that are painful enough that I can’t leave the house, and have trouble even staying out of bed. 

As to weight loss, this adds a couple more balls in the air.  One being my habit (ingrained from childhood) of wanting comfort foods when I’m sick in bed.  Another ball, being my husband’s habit - also ingrained in childhood that one is supposed to bring food gifts to someone in bed, to make them feel better.  CHanging the routine is difficult - just a couple more balls. 

Pain meds - they allow me to function (to keep juggling), but they also can lower my resistance to poor choices.  They cloud my judgement.  The fibro clouds my judgement too.  On a flare that isn’t bad enough to knock me into bed, I have memory problems so severe, that hubby compares it to the movie 50 First Dates.  I will repeat conversations, even when told they’re a repeat conversation, I have no memory of the prior conversations.  Feeling crazy adds more stress (just another ball in the air).

My husbands health issues.  He’s also on disability for a degenerative joint condition.  It’s theoretically possible for my health issues to go into remission.  Not so with my husband.  His can only deteriorate.  Even if he were at an ideal weight, he will still be in a wheel chair before he’s 60.  I worry about him - more balls in the air for me.  Also, more chances for us to have bad days at the same time.  Who’s going to cook?  What’s fast, easy, cheap, and healthy? (the answer is nothing).  More stress balls.  Where to compromise? 

The food budget.  Pretty tight on disability income.  Thankfully we have a nice apartment with a convenient layout.  The apartment we had before was a nightmare.  Not handicapped accessible, small, dark, cramped, old and in need of constant repairs.  This apartment is great, but it’s also more expensive, leaving less food budget ot work with (add another stress ball).

You can not have fast, easy, cheap, and healthy - and sometimes we have to compromsise.  Low-carb is one of the more expensive diets to follow, especially when you’re aiming for a diet that’s very high in fresh vegetables, leaner meats, some fruits, healthy fats….  We don’t have the money for fast and healthy, and if both of us are sick on the same day, it’s harder physically and emotionally to avoid the quick carbs.  Not impossible, but it throws another ball in the air.

Healthcare costs - Medications cost us more than food each month.  We’ve had to choose some months between healthcare and food

Dental - Hah.  This ball is a joke.  Because I need three front teeth pulled.  I can’t afford to have the teeth pulled, let alone replaced.  This means extra pain balls, and extra stress balls, and extra financial hardship balls.  When I am able to get the teeth pulled, then I’ll look horrible and have those stress balls (feeling ugly - major stress ball).

Exercise - Move it or lose it.  Very important, but exercise makes me hungrier.  Not a reason to stop exercising, but adds another complication, another ball to juggle.  The research of fibro strongly suggests that exercise is more important than diet and even weight loss to symptom control.  Exercise improves the neurotransmitter function, improving the fibro symptoms.  Still though, just another ball to juggle.   

For each and  every “ball” I’ve written about so far, I could list and describe three more (I don’t even want to start in on the stress balls our family is throwing at us, for a variety of reasons).  Every ball that is baggage from my past relationships with foods, and those from my husband that affect me……

All of my life, I’ve realized that it was impossible for me to lose weight while juggling a lot.  To lose weight I had to essentially give up my social life, my career aspirations, and any leisure time.  I had to be obsessed about weight loss to lose weight.  I could lose weight fast, but I couldn’t really do anything else with my life.

I could lose weight or I could be a productive, contributing member of society.

I always thought I could only lose weight if I devoted every moment to it.  Whenever I juggled more than a few things in my life, weight loss was one of the first balls to drop.  Well, I’m juggling more balls (especially those pesky stress balls) than I ever have in my life.  And instead of gaining weight, I’m still losing.

Weight loss isn’t the only thing that matters to me.  It’s not the only thing that should matter to me.  I’m happy with the juggling I’m doing.  Losing a pound a month may sound pitiful to you, but  with all that I’m dealing with - I consider it freakin’ amazing. 

I get a bit cranky when people argue that there are two main ”types” of obesity.  People who are fat because of mental health (usually self-esteem) issues and those who eat an unhealthy diet (either out of ignorance, a busy lifestyle, habit, family/cultural norms, economic/availibility issues…). 

I suspect that there are far, far more than two  “types” of overweight people.  I think there are dozens, if not hundreds of factors that contribute to weight gain, and  just as many factors that contribute finding success with weight loss and maintenance.

Combine all those factors, and you’ve got hundreds, if not thousands of different “types” of overweight people.

I think that’s why it’s so hard to find a diet plan that works equally well for everyone.  Eventually, there may come a day when we have a diagnostic tool that can identify the factors (ideally before they result in obesity) and predict which types of diet/exercise therapy will be the most effective for which people, but until then we’re mostly left with trial and error (which wouldn’t be so bad, if we didn’t think there were only two problems, and therefore likely only two solutions - and those who break it down into four types or five types aren’t that much more helpful).

I’ve been dieting since I was 5 years old, and although I learned early on that fat people were supposed to hate themselves, and I occasionally gave it a pretty good try, but I never did a very good job of it.  I was a chatterbox who made friends easily.  I didn’t really understand why I was supposed to hate myself, I just knew that I was.  In high school I got the closest to feeling as bad about my weight as I was supposed to.  Ironically given prescription amphetemines, I was at my lowest weight ever by junior year.

I was well-adjusted and I didn’t eat horribly (quality-wise).  Most of the time I ate very healthfully by the standards of “common wisdom.”

In hindsight, I think my primary issue was a sensitivity to carbohydrates.  I can overeat even the healthiest of high-carb foods (on more than one occasion I’ve eaten a whole watermelon myself in a couple days).  The answer seems obvious, a low-carbohydrate diet, but I never learned the answer because I didn’t understand the problem.  I thought low-carb diets were bad (and my few attempts at them, seemed to prove it), so I never gave them a serious attempt.

I thought I had a binge-eating disorder, but I’ve since learned two very high physiological components.  Hormones (birth control helped tremendously in reducing the ravenous hunger I experienced around TOM) and a low-carb diet (binge eating disappears when I’m eating under 100g of carbohydrates per day and reappears with a vengence if I eat much more than that).

Ironically, I didn’t learn about the benefits of birth control until I was almost 30.   I had avoided using birth control pills because I was warned that they usually caused weight gain, and I wanted no part of that.  It was only when my pms symptoms were so severe that I was missing work, that I was desperate enough to give bc pills a chance.

I spent decades looking for the psychological components to my obesity - and also decades studying weight loss methods and nutrition.  I think I even chose psychology as my field (bachelor’s and master’s degrees) because I hoped to figure myself out.  But I was looking for the answer in the wrong place.  My issues were physical, and the diet I would eventually find the most successful, was one considered “unhealthy” by virtually all of the nutrition “experts.”

I did everything “right” and still failed, because my problems weren’t what everyone was telling me they were.   I had the right answers for someone else’s situation, not my own.  I didn’t even know what mine where, or how to fix them, because no one was talking about those issues at the time.    Most of the experts were also categorizing people into the two types mentioned in the original post.  Obesity was either a mental health (especially self esteem) issue or a dietary issue (choosing an unhealthy diet out of ignorance, habit, or poverty).

If your peg didn’t fit those holes, you were crammed into one anyway.

I’m not a stupid person, and yet I can’t believe I didn’t consider low-carb earlier.  I trusted the mainstream “experts” too much and when I was told “low-carb is unhealthy and unsustainable,” I believed it.  For almost 40 years I believed it.

Even then I can’t credit my own ingenuity and determination in finding an unconventional answer.  Instead, it was not one, but two different doctor’s recommendations, and a lot of study of low-carb and low-grain diets that convinced me.  I needed to understand why I was choosing a diet that I’d always been taught was so unhealthy.

I had to [B]unlearn[/B] almost everything I thought I knew about weight loss.  I had to be willing to accept that my problems might be physiological, and that my solutions would also have to be.

Every time someone mentions genetics or physiology as a possible contributor to obesity, there’s a loud hue and cry in response - accusing the person of giving obese people an “excuse to stay fat.”
I never looked for a physiological reason, and so I never looked for a physiological solution.  It wasn’t until I started hearing more and reading/understanding about physiological factors, that I considered them a possible source of information/solutions for me.

If only I had considered the physiological factors at 12 or 14, instead of at 41.

The opportunity was there, but not the insight.  Although I began reading adult diet books at age 8, and had even tried Atkins by age 14, I didn’t make the connection.  Atkins worked great, for weight loss, but it made me sick, to the point I was passing out.  Sure seemed to prove the diet was dangerous (what I didn’t know is that raising my carb level just a bit would have fixed that problem and would have allowed me to lose weight well).

Diet and exercise advice still tends to be fairly extreme advice.  As a result, it’s very easy for people to try methods that are extreme - and when they don’t work well, the logical choice is not “try something less extreme,” it’s “if extreme didn’t work, I need even more extreme.”

But the body fights crash dieting.  You can hold your breath only so long, before your body will make you breathe.  And you can only crash diet/starve yourself for so long, before your body makes eating irresistable.

But even when I knew crash dieting was the wrong approach, the desire, the NEED for quick weight loss over-rode my common sense. 

I still can’t entirely say why, except that it’s just the way dieting is done in this culture, and I’m not much of a nonconformist, when it really boils down to it.  I can think outside of the box, but not too far out of the box.  I tend to believe that the majority opinion is usually the right one, and it took me most of my life to realize that my weight loss was any different.  If the experts said it was because of poor self-esteem, I must have poor self-esteem.  I just must not know that I have poor self-esteem.

Try to convince yourself that you’re not crazy, when everyone is telling you that you are.

Weight loss is a matter of trial and error, and I think sometimes the largest factor in lack of success is trying the same experiment over and over, and looking for it to succeed where it has always failed before.  And largely because we’re told success is a matter of “willpower,” which means we don’t have to find a different way, we just have to want success more.   As a result, people find themselves repeating the same failed experiment far more than they need to.  Instead of finding a better way, they try to put more effort into the way that didn’t work last time, and very likely isn’t going to work any better this or next time either.

It’s a complicated problem that can’t be reduced to two types, or four or six or ten.  We’ve got to understand as many of the factors as we can (at least for ourselves).  And it’s hard to find those factors, if people, especially the “experts” keep telling you there are only two (or four or… whatever).

You don’t have to figure out every piece of your puzzle, but for most of us, it’s going to take more than one or two pieces to get it right.

The season is short, only a few weeks in late June to mid July. And they don’t come cheap. Average prices in the US run $5 or more per pound (and if you find them cheaper, stock up).

Birds get first choice, as up to a third of the crop is lost to them every year. A large portion of the crop is exported to Japan where the cherries are so prized that they may sell for up to the equivalent of $1 each (yes, that’s for one cherry. Roughly $60 per pound. Makes $5 a pound seem cheap, doesn‘t it?)

The flesh is creamy-yellow, and the skin is yellow to gold, blushed with red. They’re so firm and juicy that they seem to “pop” in your mouth… sweet, juicy, and absolutely addictive.

And only 288 calories per pound, and you’ll want to eat them by the pound. (Ok, maybe that’s just me).

If you have more restraint than I do, that’s 5 calories per cherry, or

¾ of a cup (105g) = 1 fruit exchange (about 65 calories).

Mark Twain said, “All things in moderation, including moderation,” and Ranier cherries are my happy exception to moderation. Every year I try to maximize cherry consumption, while minimizing the odds of what I call Rainier’s Revenge (diarrhea from eating too many cherries). Usually I fail at least once.

But then again, some people pay good money for colon cleanses - so you could see it as a side benefit rather than an unfortunate consequence.  I’m joking, of course.  I don’t believe in colon cleanses, but if I had to, I’d choose a pound or two of cherries over a coffee enema any day (Just to be clear, I mean EATING the cherries).