Sad

Today was a sad day in the land of 3T.

I learned that after a week of salads for lunch and weight watchers meals for dinner, working at least once and sometimes twice a day, and putting myself through a form of torture that should be recognized by the Geneva Conventions, that I did not lose one. Single, Effing, Pound.

I hate my face (and my thighs, and my back, and my disgusting, wiggly, gut) right now.

I am unable to provide any words of wisdom for those of you beginning this treacherous journey.

And (for the first time ever), I am all outta witty one liners and smart alecky quips.

Right now I am just sad. Very, very, sad that, as I approach my 31st birthday, I remain unhappy with my body bag that is perpetually trapping the pretty young thang that I know I still am inside.

For the first time ever, I am too sad to eat. For dinner tonight I ate two pieces of sushi and a couple of strawberries, and guess what, I'm not even hungry.

So, friends, I will return in a few days when I am better able to be a pleasant companion in the weight loss journey, because no one likes a Mopey Mabel hanging around them when they can't even turn to ice cream and chocolate chip cookies for joy and comfort. -3T

Three up, two down

I lost two pounds this week and I’ll take it without bitching. I’m still playing catch up from the weight I gained last week but at least I’m making progress.

I started tracking my measurements last week too and according to my tape measure I’ve lost 4.75 inches. I’m kinda thinking my measurements may be off, but whatever, I’m going with it for now.

I am already worried about the next couple of weigh-ins though. I’m taking an unexpected trip to Florida on Friday. I’ll be staying at my parent’s house for five days and a lot of shit can go down in five days. A lot of baaad shit. And by bad shit I mean me putting all sorts of yummy goodies in my belly.

So wish me luck and wish me will power.

Still Fat

That's how I'm feeling this week.

And, not sure what I'm doing so wrong.

I'm not gaining weight, but I didn't lose any this week either (unless you count 6oz, which you don't unless you're a freakin' newborn).

I am certain that I am eating differently and exercising more.

I haven't baked brownies in WEEKS! And, that is quite an accomplishment for someone who used to buy the big box of Ghirardelli ones from Costco every two weeks, faithfully.

I've been eating salad and Smart Ones everyday for lunch, along with sensible dinners. And, everyone who knows me knows that I eat a cup of oatmeal every. single. day. for breakfast.

We went to Chili's yesterday and I got a garden salad with fat free ranch dressing, a half of a turkey sandwich, no cheese, no mayo, and I didn't realize when I ordered it that it came with fries, but I split them among the other not-so-healthy eaters at my table.

Doesn't sound horrible, does it?

To make it better, I didn't even touch the sandwich. I wrapped it up and took it to work for dinner. I had it with broccoli, green beans, and a bag of baked Lays.

Did I want to grub on those fries and rub mayo all over that sandwich? Sure did.

And, did I want to order the Cesar salad with regular dressing and cover my turkey sandwich in Swiss cheese and hickory smoked bacon. You betcha.

But I didn't. I made smarter, healthier, less satisfying to an exhausted-overworked-stressed out mom choices instead.

All for 6 lousy ounces!

But, don't think I'm giving up. I have a few more weeks before we start our mommy-baby swim classes, and the idea of being in a swimsuit with a pool full of fit, young, cute moms is motivation enough for me to keep chugging along (at least for now).

Seriously, though. Something has gotta change. I gotta get myself moving more because I really can't see myself eating any less.

So, here's to another week.

Wish me luck because if I am under 160 by this Saturday I will be celebrating with a nice, big, frosty glass of water:) -3T

Just call me Miss Piggy

I gained three pounds this week and I can’t even say I’m surprised.

Why? Because 3T was on vacation and it’s all her fault. Just kidding!

I knew it was going to happen but didn’t have the willpower to stop it because food is so freakin’ good! I ate way too much, and I mean, WAY too much over the weekend.

I had that kit kat bar that had been starring at me since pre diet that I didn’t have the heart the throw away (now it’s starring at me from my thighs), a frozen pizza (the whole damn family sized thing, oink, oink, I know), pancakes (as an after dinner snack), and my favorite, chocolate covered pretzels (the perfect addition to Sunday afternoon coffee).

I have this problem that once I fall off the wagon it’s really hard for me to get back on it. I mean, I tend to fall off and get dragged behind the wagon thing for the rest of the day (or couple of days) stuffing my face like bear getting ready for hibernation. It’s like once I get a taste of the goodness all I can focus on are what other yummy treats I can devour.

And today I feel like kicking myself in the ass because basically I let most of the hard work I’ve done over the last few weeks fly right out the window. So now I’ve only lost a total of four pounds…and that sucks.

But I’m determined to put last week behind me and am back on track. I’m going to stay within my point limits, make better food choices, and continue sweating with the oldies. And hopefully I’ll shed at least a couple of these pounds I put back on by the next weigh in. Wish me luck!

-TOL

Baby #4?

Surprise to me, but apparently I am gallivanting around town proclaiming a pregnancy.

Let me advise all of you curious, overly nosyfriendly citizens that it is never appropriate to ask an ambiguously pregnant woman if she is, in fact, pregnant.

'Cause guess what, I AM NOT!

I am simply the shameful owner of a bubble gut, a baby belly, a grub tub (I can go on).

On my return trip from Atlanta, I was asked not once, but twice, about the nature of my protruding gut. They were nice enough, and were obviously shamefaced when they discovered the error of their prying ways, but still I was a bit embarrassed (and that is hard to do).

Lady 1: Oh! you have another coming soon?! (Soon? Is it really that big? Big enough to make you think I'm gonna pop any day now?)
Me: Um, nope. No more for me, it's just a fat belly. You know, leftover from this one (pointing at one year old latched to my shoulder).
Lady 1: Oh, no! I'm so sorry. Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. (Face and neck redden obviously. Good, why should I be the only one embarrassed?)

Lady 2: Wow! When are you due? (Can forgive her slightly since I was holding sleeping baby and doing the pregnant, backwards dip to the chair maneuver so as not to awaken said baby).
Me: Never. I'm not pregnant, I'm just fat. Sorry.
Lady 2: Oh. Excuse me (as she eyes my midsection suspiciously), I just thought... Sorry.
Me: No problem, not the first time it's happened (Jeez, this is getting ridiculous, and I thought I looked kinda cute in this dress. I'll never wear this piece a crap again!).

For future reference, if you see a lady with a baby who is a little thick in the middle, do her and yourself a favor, don't ask any questions regarding her "status" until she brings it up herself.

It's really just the only way to be safe.

I have to admit, though, that I was VERY naughty on this vacay. I snacked with reckless abandon, I purchased costly, forbidden items (aka Combos) from the airport, and I even went to a b-u-f-f-e-t.

I am not going to weigh myself until Saturday at the very earliest.

I need time to detox.

-3t

Sweatin’ with the Oldies

I started my aerobics class this week and lost another pound. (YAY!)

So the class consists of me and a group of offbeat old broads.

When I first got there the instructor introduced herself and informed me that she hurt her ankle and wouldn't be able to teach so she got a student to fill in for her to do the moves, and she was just going to basically give us the commands while elevating her leg.

She is your stereotypical aerobics instructor, peppy, enthusiastic, cute and way encouraging. Total opposite of me.

She asked what my experience level was and I told her that I had in fact taken step aerobics before, however it was many years ago. She gave lots of words of encouragement telling me that all the moves will come right back and I should be able to keep up.

Doing the moves was the least of my concern, doing them for an hour without passing out, that was another story. The routines are not that hard to pick up. Yes, it's been years and though I'm clumsy, I am semi coordinated.

As more students joined us in the gym I noticed a reoccurring theme—they all knew each other and they were at least 15 years my senior. One lady I actually made friends with was probably old enough to be my grandmother.

So anyway, as the class got underway I started to realize that not only was I not going to have a problem keeping up but seriously, not to toot my own horn, but coordination wise, I was the best one in the class.

The lady who was up front teaching—not good. There was actually one move that I couldn’t figure out. Why? Because everyone in the class was doing something different, and offbeat none the less. I mean, I could have taught the freakin’ class. Anyway, I did my thing, added some extra intensity on my own and broke a sweat, cause that’s what I’m there to do.

After class the instructor was like you did a great job! Um, yeah, no shit. Look at this group of misfits. But, that's where I'll be for the next couple of months, working out with my old lady friends and hopefully making my ass a little smaller, or firmer if nothing else.

—TOL

Cookies Suck

Actually, cookies are awesome.

It's me that sucks.

I seriously can not be trusted with anything delicious.

I swear, I feel like a freakin' crackhead most of the time, only my drug is legal, everyone expects you to do it, and it certainly does NOT make you lose weight.

I should look into getting some crack. It can't possibly make me look, feel, or behave any more outrageous than cookies, cake, ice cream, french fries, etc. etc. etc., do.

My only option is to not have access to any of these things. I need to get a lock box and put all of the goodies the hubby and kids like in it and then have #2 swallow the key (he has plenty of practice). Then I'd only be able to access the box like every three days or so.

I know, I'm going too far.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. -3T