Day 21

Weigh in #4...Down 4.9 lbs. This surprised me. I was waiting for the ball to drop--for that one awful weigh-in that makes you question why you're putting yourself through this misery in the first place. It hasn't happened yet. So every weigh-in from now until then I will hold my breath when I step on the scale...or maybe I should NOT hold it in. I'll weigh less if I push all the air out of my lungs, right?

This brings my total to 21.1 pounds down. I am officially now at the weight I was when we found out we were expecting the bonus baby. Miraculously, and through the help of a good-lookin' aqua Zumba teacher, I managed to only gain 10 pounds my whole pregnancy. AFTER Millie I managed to not only NOT lose any baby weight, but also to pack on another 12 pounds on top of that. So if the last time you saw me was around the time my mom passed away, I look exactly the same. But 21 pounds? That's like a big drop, right? I don't notice a difference. No wait! Strike that! My wedding rings are looser. AND my acne is clearing up--probably cause my hormones are starting to get back into normal range. But I still have to hold my breath when I tie my shoes. I still have a large spillage of belly fat when I manage to squeeze into a pair of jeans. Millie still pats my belly like a bongo every day. And I still have a huge double chin.

But a loss is a loss. So I'll take it, and enjoy it.

Day 14

Week two weigh-in: Down another 6 pounds...Say what?! I was preparing for the worst, but expecting the best. As a Biggest Loser fan I know all about the dreaded week two weigh in, and was a little leery to step on the scale this morning. And once again there was another big ol' sigh that escaped my lips--but this time it was a sigh of relief. I feel happy. I'm not elated, ecstatic, or overjoyed. I just feel really good. Content. I have a pair a pants--which is by no means my skinny pants--that I keep trying on to see if they button yet--and this morning was no different than the previous ones. Still no luck. But I'll get there and once I get there I'll get into the next size smaller and then the next size...Cause as anyone who has had fluctuating weights knows: I have jeans in every size imaginable. 

So even though I don't fit in those pants yet I have noticed a difference in the way I walk. There is a lot more confidence now--not because I look amazing, but because inside I know I'm doing something wonderful, and feeling so much better. All these years I've been not only carrying around extra weight but also the guilt that comes with knowing I have made awful choices in my life--that I'm knowingly cutting years from my life and heading down a path of sadness and misery that can only end in destruction. It has been self-destruction. I know that. Every time I would sit and eat I would look down at my plate and see destruction. And then the guilt would set in--this awful guilt that has been my constant companion. This guilt that has consumed me to the point of having restless nights, and making me feel worthless, weak and ugly. 

It's dissipating now. It's being replaced by something so much better. Every week I make it to another weigh-in without falling off the wagon I secretly pat myself on my back and I feel an added sense of strength and worth. Today was a good day. 66.5 pounds to go.

Day 7--Weigh-in Day...

Day 7

I finished my first week of Ideal Protein and had my first weigh-in. I lost 10 pounds. And even though I know most of that is water weight it was still a whopping 10 pounds that have been shed and no longer take up residence on my body. Do you think I celebrated? Do you think I even for one second stopped to pat myself on the back and feel a sense of accomplishment? NOPE. 

I got on the scale this morning and saw the drop and just sighed. I sighed!!! Like a big ol’ dramatic sigh. I thought about how 3 years ago when I had first attempted this program I STARTED at the weight I am today. How really I made no progress, but was just back “in the black.” So I proceeded to beat myself up for not only gaining back all the weight I had lost before, but then for adding 10 horrible pounds on top of that. 

THEN I proceeded to think about the big picture. My goal is to lose 80 pounds. Yep, not a typo—80 (eighty) pounds. And in the grand scheme of things, 10 pounds is just a tiny drop in the bucket. My journey is just beginning and I have a LONG way to go…I felt overwhelmed and already defeated at the thought of having 70 more pounds to go.

I know that the future weeks will see a much slower drop. I doubt I’ll ever see such a fabulous loss along this journey. And yet I sit here and feel sorry for myself and feel a sense of dread at having to keep at this for several more months…This defeatist attitude is probably what got me here in the first place. And it’s scary to think that 6 days of positive, go-get ‘em attitude can be completely shattered in the matter of minutes—seconds—as I saw that number appear on the scale. Maybe all that confidence and will power was just an act? Maybe I’m not as strong as I think I am…

My friend, and “coach” along this journey was quick to celebrate what I so quickly wanted to see as a tragedy. He helped me see that just like in the Gospel of Jesus Christ we learn that when our sins are forgiven us the Lord remembers them no more. We are completely clean: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.” (Isaiah 1:18) We should also remember them no more. But one of Satan’s greatest tools is to constantly drudge those old sins and mistakes up and remind us of how awful and unworthy we are—when in reality, in God’s eyes, we are forgiven.  I need to learn to let all that stuff go. I need to rejoice in where I am now—realize that my journey started anew the day I decided to take back my life. All that stuff that happened before? That’s the old weak me. Today I am a new person—a better, healthier, 10 pounds lighter Carol. 

Maybe I’ll believe it tomorrow…

Day 5 and 6

I didn't post anything yesterday for a couple of reasons:

It was a tough day, food-wise and I just wasn't feeling up to it, but even before that I felt that posting every day may become too overwhelming. So I've decided to only post when I feel I need to get things off my chest or on weigh-in days--which are every Monday.

I struggled eating all the food and taking all the supplements I'm supposed to take yesterday. It just felt like too much food! Past experience with this has also taught me that if I try to force it down it will inevitably just come back up. Last night I decided not to push my luck and just do my best. I fell short of my goal, but I'm okay with that. I did the best I could AND I still stuck to the plan--meaning there was no falling off the wagon as I fell into food temptation.

It's funny that here I am a day from my first weigh-in, and I already notice a difference in the way I feel. Mornings have been tough in the past because I wake up achey and so tired having had not-very-good sleep. I would suffer from acid reflux and it would usually take me about 30 minutes of sitting on the couch to kind of get my bearings and psyche myself up for the day. In just the last few days I have found myself getting better sleep, having no acid reflux and waking up with no aches and a lot more energy. This alone is motivation to keep going!

I've also noticed that I walk differently and hold my head up higher. I'm so used to being one trying to conceal my body, and just physically manifesting the sadness and guilt at what I had let myself become. But just choosing to make better food choices has led me to feel better about myself. Being able to stick to this for a week has given me a lot more self-confidence. I'm grateful for that and cannot wait to weigh in tomorrow morning.

Day 4

I had written this great, uplifting entry and then decided to post this instead:

Today I took the kids to Chick-Fil-A for lunch followed by Krispy Kreme for cheap donuts and I'll be taking them to 7-Eleven this evening for a free Slurpee. Why? Because I'm a freakin' masochist! I must really enjoy the torture. Apparently watching people eat at my favorite fast food place wasn't awful enough as I sat there and ate hard boiled eggs and cucumber with a cup of ice water. I proceeded to then pile my kids back in the car and drive to Krispy Kreme to pick up two dozen donuts. Mind you this also entailed waiting in a line, watching the hot donuts take their shower in the sugary glaze waterfall for 30 minutes.

Curran called while I was waiting in line at Krispy Kreme and I bet he was a little surprised to hear where I was. I was more than a little surprised to find myself standing there too. I told him I think subconsciously I wanted to test my will power. And considering my record with diets this was probably a really, really dumb idea--especially when I'm in the throes of week one. But let's be honest, I can't live my life hiding out at home with my vegetables and lean protein just so I never have to face temptation. My friends and I like to go out to eat. It's what we do. It's how we give our kids (and us) a break. And today was the first time since starting that I ventured out to do what is somewhat "typical" for us. I survived, though. I passed the test...today. I'm sure life will sucker punch me in the face at some point in the near future and I will look to food for solace. So if you call/text to invite us out to eat and I ignore you chances are I'll be cowering in a dark corner in the fetal position, rocking back and forth repeating the words: "This too shall pass."

P.S. Though I haven't eaten a single donut (and don't plan to) you better believe I've sniffed the hell out of them.

Day 3

Today we're on the upswing! No headaches, no shakes, no random, violent outbursts. Only once today did I feel like quitting--How can a bag of Cheetos have that kind of power over you?!

I've been overwhelmed by the show of love and support. Thank you for all of your kind words! I am well aware that I need every last bit of encouragement you guys have given me. If there is anything I have learned from attempting every diet and exercise program under the sun it is that I am weak--physically and mentally. I know I lack some serious self-control, and I have major issues with self-doubt. Which is why I started this program with a Priesthood blessing from my sweet and always supportive husband. I say this with complete honesty, and perhaps if you've been in my shoes (or should I say "muumuu") you will agree: Without divine intervention, without help from a merciful, loving God I don't know if I could do this. Is it weird to involve God in my weight-loss journey? Given the state of the world some would say he has a million more pressing matters to worry about. Thankfully, I've learned that I am a child of a loving Heavenly Father and therefore among His highest priorities.

Dino Nugget Envy

Day 2

The withdrawal shakes have diminished a bit, and the raging headache is all that remains of my body trying to detox from all the crap I have fed it. These carb and caffeine withdrawals are a real thing. I had one episode of rage yesterday as my body desperately screamed for something starchy or sugary. My children, of course, were in the line of fire. It doesn't help that my husband is out of town this week, and that the travelling weeks tend to be slightly more stressful on us back home. I could have waited until next Monday to start my journey. I don't think any mother with a travelling husband would fault me for wanting to wait till my main support was home to ward off my vicious attacks on the innocent children. But I decided I had waited and postponed this long enough. 

Every waking minute today has been spent gauging how I feel in any given moment compared to the same time 24 hours prior. As long as I can clearly say that I feel better then I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. So if you were to ask what thoughts have run through my head today I would say that 90% of them have been any given variation of: "Okay. How do you feel? Are you doing okay?" 

I longingly watched my toddler scarf down dino nuggets and wished I could at the very least lick the toasty bread crumbs left behind on her plate. I had thoughts of Hawaiian shaved ice on this hot summer day. And probably like most Americans used to instant gratification I have been tempted all day long to go stand on the scale and see my hard work paying off. But I won't do any of those--I won't lick Millie's plate, and I'll drive past the Hawaiian shaved ice truck and I'll only pee in the downstairs bathroom because there is no scale there. I owe it to myself. I owe it to the children that have been entrusted to me by a loving Heavenly Father. I will not rob them of a mother because I am too selfish and weak to do this. 

Another Day, Another Journey..

Day 1

Feelings I've had: 

I can do this!                                                                            

Okay…That wasn't so bad.

No I can’t! It’s too hard!                                                          

This too shall pass.

I’m SO hungry!                                                                        

It’s your own dang fault you’re in this mess!

I’m gonna kill my kids!                                                             

Maybe I’ll just start tomorrow…

What I wouldn't give for a Dirty Coke right now.                     

 I gotta pee!

This day has been a long time coming. I have spent countless sleepless nights thinking of every possible worst-case scenario for how my story would end. I have tried to fool myself into thinking I felt good—nothing was wrong—I’m just “big-boned.” But deep down I could see myself walking the path that my mother walked. Her time on earth was cut short and I, through my choices, could slowly see myself evolving into another version of her. And it scared me.

So here I sit—dinner time on my first day back on Ideal Protein wishing with all my might I had a juicy, cheesy burger in my hands. But instead I am chowing down on two cups of cucumbers and bell peppers with 7 delicious ounces of grilled chicken breast. You may not think that sounds like a lot—two cups—but let me tell you, for a girl not used to ingesting this kind of stuff, sometimes staring into my bowl of veggies is like staring into a never-ending bottomless pit.

I sit and throw myself a pity party for a while and then realize that the “torture” I’m going through is nothing more than me dealing with the consequences of possibly a bad gene pool, but most assuredly of my unhealthy actions throughout my adult life. I've got no one to blame but myself. I find myself staring into this bowl of rabbit food because I have abused my body…and sadly, I have very fond memories of this abuse—the sweetness of that bowl of ice cream or cheesecake—the gooeyness of that pizza or fried mozzarella. Sure there were immediate repercussions like heartburn, or bloating, but overall every step of my self-destruction has been pretty delicious.

I've tried this diet before—or should I call it an “eating program” or “new way of life.” And I lost over  60 pounds. I felt great. I looked great. Vegetables and I learned to be good friends. But something went wrong—actually a lot of things went wrong—and I quit. I didn't see this through to the end. I also justified it because I felt that all my hard work deserved a reward. I had earned the right to enjoy that bag of chips. I did it wrong and now I find myself back where I was a few years ago.

So here we go again—this time I’m determined to see this thing through to the (not so) bitter end. I want to know what it feels like to accomplish something like this. I want to feel good and most importantly, I want to change the course of my life and live.