Seeing the Big Picture

I posted this assortment of pictures to Instragram the other day (I'm lauriebaseball there, too).

The scale has been stuck on -- or a more accurate term -- bobbling between -- 189.6, 190.4, 189.8, 190.6 and so I decided to break down Friday morning and try on my size 10 jeans. Just to see if I could have a positive moment on something not scale-related.

They were tight, but not too tight to wear in public. It was a victory. These jeans, which fit me so perfectly at 180, two years ago; these jeans, which did not fit me at all last year in the mid-180s…these jeans fit me now. Even heavier, because my body is changing back to what it once was. What it once was in a good way.

To take a step back and stop thinking about the numbers, which are literally within 10 pounds of each other, I dug out some pictures from college. That put is all in perspective.

Am I happy at 190? Seeing what I once looked like when I topped the scales at 252, I am not only happy, I'm proud of myself. I don't even know who that person is on the left in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

It will always be a struggle, I will always have to watch what I eat, and exercise will always need to be my friend, but I will never go back to where I was. And I have to recognize the level of health (not to mention happiness) -- and probably a good number of extra years -- I've given myself.

I will never be a size 2. And quite frankly I don't want to be. I am a curvy girl, with a great rack. I don't want to lose that. But I don't have to be a 22.Depending on the style, the manufacturer and the actual item, I am anywhere from a 10 to a 14, mostly landing in 12-land.

And as someone who used to wear size 22 as her regular size, 12 is just fine with me.

I visited a friend in Baltimore yesterday. And while I've seen her more recently than five years ago, I hadn't seen her kids since 2010. We recreated a picture from the last time I was there. They weren't the only ones who have changed in those five years.

I remember this period of my life. I remember that  I was at a weight I wasn't thrilled with, but I also remember thinking that I looked OK.

And then I see this and think, "oh my god."

I was on year two of fertility treatment and my body was full of hormones and drugs; my emotions were a roller coaster and I'm sure my eating mimicked them.

I posted this picture to Facebook and a former colleague wrote:

"5 years looks great on you."

Ever the self-depracating fool who can't just say thank you, I responded: "Lots of fertility drugs in 2010, lots of sweating in 2015."

She wasn't going to let me off easy. "Not to take anything away from the sweating, but inner peace has a lot to do with it too. I'm so glad to see you happy."

The lesson? The point of this post? I think I need to try to remember that the scale, the numbers, the exercise -- they can't fully define me as they have been. As Amy correctly pointed out, I look good because I'm happy, because I like where I am in my life. And while a lot of that has to do with how healthy I am, it also has to do with where I am -- what I have, what I've achieved -- in my life.

Tired legs

I did lower body tonight, which, considering we use weights for squats and lunges and kettbells for squats, it's really like a full-body workout. My legs are tired but I feel good. Cardio was :45 of a speed climb with 3:00 of recovery (also speed climb). Started walking at 4.0, running at 4.5; finished my set walking at 4.6 and running at 5.2, with a full sprint at 6.5.

I admit planned on running at all, but my legs feel good. Tomorrow will be a full run after upper body. I've got three sessions at the gym with my trainer this week and next, planning to make the most of it and kill it on the scale by August 1.

All numbers are good....scale is back under 190, just .4 up from before my surgery; I'm at 632 miles for the year, shooting for 700 by the end of July. I'm in a good rhythm.

Right now, this is the most important thing in my life...I'm the most important thing in my life.

Kicking ass....kind of

I'm proud of myself for bouncing back so quickly. Decent nutrition the past few days, kick ass workouts and a good mindset.

I set three workout goals for the weekend, even wrote them in my to do list

* 15 total miles for the weekend

* run in my treadmill, .5 consecutively (as I've said, my treadmill is much tighter than the one at the gym)

* do an upper body workout

I printed out some simple workouts and created a mini calendar on the wall outside my bedroom. I have the week planned out with my workouts, and they include circuit training and strength training at home (my Achilles heel). 

I've got a couple sessions with my trainer to make up after my surgery and vacation, so I'm hitting the gym three times this week and next.

I feel good. I enjoyed myself in Richmond, made myself enjoy every thing I out in my mouth and now I have my routine back. This is living, this is life.

And this is planking on the bottom step.

Dominoes

I hate how one little change in my routine can completely derail me. I was so strong, so confident, so on track, and then I had surgery, and then my student from Denmark came to visit and then we went to Richmond and then I still have an 18-year-old in my house,and then and then and then.

Did you know that Denmark only has plain and peanut m&m's? Not dark, not dark peanut, no almond, not crunchy, not pretzel. Did you know that I have all of those in my pantry? With berry Oreos and potato chips.

I packed my food for Richmond. Protein shake powder all measured out in baggies. Protein bars. Greek yogurt. And then I got to Richmond and we were having lasagna for dinner. When I asked for chicken for dinner, would it be a problem to grill me a chicken breast. "You don't want lasagna?" I'd like more protein than carbs. And then my brother jumped in with, let's get ice cream tonight.

In the end I did have chicken breast for dinner, but overall it just seemed easier to not be difficult and eat what was being served.

I blame no one but myself. I'm an adult who makes her choices. In the end it's all on me. The eating, the lack of self control, the three pounds I'm up since before my surgery.

I put my sweet little Charlotte on a plane tomorrow. And I told her all opened sweets are being put in a ziplock bag and going with her. I get back to the gym on Friday, and to make up for a few sessions I've missed over the last two weeks, I'm planning three sessions per week for the next two. 

I've sent myself some good workout charts from Pinterest to print out at work tomorrow. So the nights I don't go to the gym, I can get in some strength/circuit training.

I will have challenges the next few days. Lunch with a friend on Friday in Philadelphia, Chris in town this weekend, lunch in Baltimore next weekend, as well as a neighbors party. One day at a time. Tomorrow my focus is creating my plan, staying on track nutritionally and getting a good workout in when I'm back for my Newark airport drop off.

On the plus side, I have walked every day, ran once. Have they been stellar workouts? No. But I've moved. I've burned some calories.

I'm going to sum it all up with the photo I posted to Instagram tonight. Not exactly the most positive of messages to go with my 30 days of positivity, but it's a message I needed to embrace tonight as I put oral surgery, out of town visitors and out of town visits to rest.

Making choices

This is how my afternoon started

me: can I have chicken for dinner? 

My sister in law: you don't want lasagna? 

Me: I'd rather not eat carbs for dinner 

my brother: we'll have to go get ice cream after dinner

It all worked out fine. Did I snack off plan at the pool? Yes. But I went for a walk/run, my sister-in-law graciously grilled me a chicken breast for dinner and I had nonfat frozen yogurt.

While I was on my walk, I made the decision that I wasn't going to consider this weekend shot and blow my eating habits, but neither can I expect that in going to stay on plan 100%. I'll get my workouts in as best I can, I'll make the best choices I can and when I don't, I need to let go and just enjoy it.

Goal 1 completed...kinda

I'm the type of person who always wants to push it a little more, who strives for perfection, who achieves something and immediately finds fault with it. Call me Type A, call me OCD, call me crazy...I accept it all!

This morning at the gym, I ran for not one mile but two. Two consecutive miles. For 25 minutes. And I should just stop there. Hooray for me, but I can't.

Here come the but's....I was barely running at 4.7 mph, it was on the gym's treadmill which is much "looser" than my treadmill at home, and of course, the way I measure my happiness these days....the scale is going in the wrong direction.

I'm headed out of town and worried about falling off completely. 

Getting it back

I did well with my numbers, had a decent walk after dinner with a friend, but I still don't feel strong. I think because within those 1100 calories, there was chocolate and a cookie. But also not in those 1100 calories are two cookies...I had the bag opened and grabbed my yogurt instead. That was a big win for me, for keeping the cravings at bay, for fighting the mouth hunger and winning.