Weigh in, and new plan for "scary weight"

Everyone needs a scary weight.  Okay, everyone who doesn't want to inspire fear because of their own Guiness Record-worthy weight, needs to have a number that scares THEM first.  This number essentially serves as your bus ticket to the gym.  When I hit ONE HUNDRED AND TERRIFYING POUNDS, I am instantaneously on a diet.  I am a lunky ol' gym rat, and I will not reemerge until I reach MARKEDLY LESS TERRIFYING NUMBER.

The benefit of this kind of plan for weight maintenance is that you don't have to live your whole sad life on a diet.  You just need to live your life on, shall we say, Diet Alert.  You can do whatever you want for as many days as you want until CODE RED!! CODE RED!! And then you need to jump back on the diet.  Simple as that.

The trick is that this is not a plan for weight-loss.  This is a plan for not-weight-gain.  So my scary weight (I'm hoping to make it 130 or 135)  is much thinner than my today weight.  I guess you could say that puts me in code... what?  Black?  Ultraviolet?  Either way, it's negatives.

Today's weigh in was 140.2, so I'm still on Super Diet for a while longer.  Which is going okay, to be honest.  8:30 is a tough time of day, when the kids are in bed and we usually crash on the couch for a couple hours before bed.  Even if I'm staying busy during that time (getting crocheting done or writing reports)  I still feel a nasty wave of Hunger slash Desire To Eat Sugar Things crash over me.  Which is why I so frequently go to bed hungry and whiney while on Diet.  Not because I've starved all day, but because I've denied myself those last two hours.  Which seems small, but is super freaking hard, thankyouverymuch.

Well that's all for this morning, time to do some paperwork and some Zumba (which makes me feel like a super hot dancing monkey, and I'm starting to LOVE).  Have a happy Thursday, Friends!

Checking in for un-fatness!

Day 2 of New Commitment has me thinking.  This has to be about my thirty-seventh Day 2 in 2013.  Lots of starts, zip on the follow through.  I am bunting my diet.  And I keep getting thrown out at first.

Oh, and by bunting, I'm referring to baseball, not to cake.  Although there has been a concerning amount of THAT in my diet these days too.

Today I had yogurt and fiber cereal and two cups of coffee with fat free creamer and splenda and an iceburg lettuce salad with light ranch and croutons and 3/4 of a navel orange and a small baked chicken breast (garlic and brown sugar glazed), and pineapple cole slaw.  And a bunch of water.  And one diet soda that I'm still sipping at because you need to savor the little pleasures in your life.

The pineapple coleslaw is a recipe I got from my mother-in-law, and is the only thing I've ever seen referred to as coleslaw that doesn't give me that gaggy feeling.  It's fresh.  It's light, and sweet, and pineapple-y and it's just lovely.  And tonight I think I must have had too much because now I'm crazy full.

Feeling pretty good about DIET today, I must say.  I'm not sure if I'm going to hit my goal of UNDER 140 by this Thursday as planned, thanks to lots of terrible life choices.  I'm also not sure this month will register a single pound of net loss, but as of today, I'm okay.  Not happy with my innumerable failures, for sure, but happy because I know that I will see the 130s again soon.  I don't do well with half commitments.  I don't do well with a cheat day, or cheat meal every week, because cheat meals become cheat weekends and whomp, I'm fat again.  But I'm over the half committing.  No cheat days till I see a one three, and that is that is that.  Even if it means I don't get to have a doughnut during our garage sale on Saturday.  ::Sigh::

Happy Tuesday friends!

It's time for another GRUMBLE POST!

Subtitle: I've made another new commitment to weight loss, so I'm hungry and cranky again.

Last week I was on my best behavior.  Then came the the weekend.  Then came my Mrs. Hyde, and she was RAVENOUS.  She ate the entire contents of 3 separate pantries, and then nibbled on the family members.  And may I say?  She is quite the chunky little lady.

So here's the new commitment:  I get no diet-breaks, no treats, no junk food or snacks or desserts or anything that is tasty and delicious until I weigh less than 140 pounds.  I'm getting frick-tired of working my behind off every week only to go on a massive self-sabatogy binge every weekend.  That poo may fly once I reach goal weight, but not while I've still got a double chin, and CERTAINLY not while I still have a double butt*.

So from now until 139, (which really shouldn't be so far away but probably will be really really far away) I hereby vow to all twelve people who read this post that I, Ashley Sherae-rae Miller nee DeWitt, will not partake in delicious or particularly filling foodstuffs until I fit a bit better into my own underpantses.

And now for your viewing pleasure, some stuff I did this weekend when I was eating a bunch instead of losing weight:

I tried to take a nap when the family was distracted.

I was promptly discovered.

We had a belated Valentine's Dinner with family, and I decided we should dress appropriately.  But Husband and Son do not wear pink.  So I made them pink.

They matched.  It was awesome.

These two are so cute it hurts me sometimes.

This is my family as a Valentine.

Also, and this has much less to do with how fat I am (I think, but who's to say):  I figured out how to french braid my hair sort of.  Now keep in mind, this is after a 10 hour work day and a little couch-lounging to boot, so give it some "It wasn't this messy earlier" forgiveness, but I FREAKING LOVE MY HAIR LIKE THIS.  I'm assuming the sentiment is not shared by others as I have worn my hair like this now bunches of times and have never been complimented once, but I DON'T CARE AT ALL BECAUSE I FREAKING LOVE MY HAIR LIKE THIS.  Of course, add to it the fact that I'm horribly proud of myself for figuring out how to french braid sort of.  I may never wear it another way again.

Here's some creepy narcissistic pictures I took of myself in the bathroom:

If you're thinking, wow, that's some pretty fancy and incredible hair styling, you would be right.  And I will assume you also have awesome hair.

Well, that's all I have for t'night folks.  My husband is watching The Artist and I'm praying that it is almost over because even the sound of their not-talking is driving me straight to the nut house.  TTFN!

*When I say double butt I'm OBVIOUSLY referring to the left over booty cheek at the bottom of your briefs, giving your backside a hilly, roughly terrained landscape.  It's distinctly possible that I need to invest in some more, shall we say, gracious and accommodating underpants.

Nobody said it was easy. Yup.

Terrible cold.  Company.  Ear infection.  Busy busy work schedule.  Two kids at home, and one with a potential medical problem.  And in the middle of it, go, eat loads of healthy food and exercise, because woman you've still got a bunch of pounds to lose.

Right.

Sometimes life gets in the way of weight loss.  I'm feeling like a prime example of that these days, like I've got life-excuses up the wazoo for why my weight loss has stagnated.  And as much as I'd like to pass the buck on this one, to blame my life and not myself for getting stuck this whole dang month, let's be honest.  I feel like a giant poo-burger about it.  I feel like a busy, stressed out, head congested failure, and it's not terribly enjoyable.

Also, Hi! Long time no see!  How've y'all been the last couple of weeks?

So I want to talk about my son real quick, so that I'm not being vague and annoying.  Apparently, the poor kid is not putting on weight.  About 1/2 pound in about 3 months.  Add to it, he's gotten super constipated.  Now I had thought the constipation was from adding in solid foods, and I've been trying to teach him to drink water, and I've been trying to up green veggies and remove some stuff like bananas that might be stopping him up.  And the weight, well I guess I figured he was in the "stretch out" portion of child growth, and was just waiting for him to to chunk back up.

But now he's down to the 5th percentile for his weight, and the doc is concerned.  So he tested his blood last Friday.  Turns out our little man has borderline hypothyroidism, which in adults causes obesity, but in babies means you stop growing.  And then according to the internet (p.s., never NEVER read the freaking internet), could mean he doesn't grow appropriately, is incredibly short, doesn't develop musculature, and can stop his brain from growing and cause mental retardation.  Which is exactly when I walked away from the internet.  

His doctor spoke with a specialist and they have decided they'd like to do some more blood tests, so we're going back in next week Friday.  In the mean time, we're trying to get him to drink prune juice, and cutting out the carbs out to get his system working better.  Which is helping some, I think.  I can't say he's gaining weight yet, but he's pooing more frequently, and it doesn't seem to be hurting him anymore.

It's hard to take starchy foods away from kids, but little man seems to love avocados and leafy greens, and he's allowed to have any fruit he'd like, which makes him happy even if he can't have rice, potatoes, crackers and oatmeal like he'd prefer.  

I'm worried about him.  I'm worried about what could happen if he's not treated, and I'm worried about the ramifications of starting him on a life-long hormone treatment, because thyroids are not "fixable".  We're praying for healthy poos and good growth and better looking blood, and we're praying for faith and relief from worry about things we can't control.

So.  About the weight loss.  I hope that sounds trite, and lame, and utterly unimportant, because that's also how it's felt this past week or so.  But I feel like I have 2 options:  I can choose to set it aside, I can make the decision "I am worrying about other things right now and I'm not thinking about losing weight", or I can decide to keep making good choices and truck on.  Losing weight isn't the biggest part of my life right now.  Before yesterday and today, I hadn't worked out in two weeks.  But I guess I'm deciding, I can still eat well.  I can still make better choices every day, I can do what I can, and we'll see how it works.  At the very least, it feels better.

I'm at 141.8 today, I saw 140.6 earlier this week.  A little over a month ago I was seeing numbers like 147 and 148, and that was wretched, so, ya know, this is better.

So I'm still here, still trying, still trekking on, and still hoping to see the 130s and the ::gulp:: 120s? after not too long.  And finally over the stupid cold and subsequent ear infection that's been driving me insane for almost two straight weeks.  Geez. Wretched life ;-)

Have a happy Thursday folks!

Derogatory term classically denoting female dogs be crazy.

I watched a documentary today about giving birth, and about how doctors are all trying to kill babies and if you have an epidural you're definitely going to abandon and/or eat your own young because it's science.  Also, I got to see Ricki Lake's boobies.  And her vajerna, what with a baby comin' out of it.  In her bathtub.  Like God intended.

But if God really intended for me to see Ricki Lake's hoo-ha, I'm starting to wonder for the first time if he really is a good God.

Just kidding.  But ferreals, ew.

Tonight I stumbled onto a parenting website.  Now for those of you who remain blissfully unawares, "Internet Mommies" as I'm choosing to dub them, have their own unique language.  DD is Dear Daughter, DS is Dear Son, and so forth for Dear Husband, Dear Wife, Dear Sister Who Once Stole My Boyfriend In High School So I Only Talk To During The Holidays And Then Only After Extensive Therapy And Drinking, etc.

Internet Mommies also like to post their Internet Mommy Credentials at the end of each of their posts.  Because, of course, I don't know what to think about what you say as an Internet Mom if it's not immediately followed by your anniversary, children's birth dates, first, middle, and last names of all of your loved ones/anyone-you've-ever-met-ever, and your driver's license number.  Obviously.

Tonight though, I found some extra letters on one Internet Mommy's resume, and had to head back to Google for some definitions.  So here ya go:

EBF:  Exclusively Breast Fed.  This one I'd heard before, mostly from people who identified that my children, despite my bestest efforts, were NOT this.  Apparently as a cow I was meant more for beef than for milking.  I did learn, however, that it can also mean EXTENDED Breast Feeding, for those who want to identify themselves apart from those jerks who only Exclusively Breast Feed their babies for 12 months, the monsters.

ERF:  This was the letter-ism that first caught my eye. (Exclusively Rear Fed??)  But apparently it means Extended Rear Facing.  These people would like you to take their advice on the internets based on their credentials as people who keep their children's car seats facing the trunk instead of the motor for over 1 year, again, unlike the other monsters out there.

Which then led me to EH: Extended Harnessing.  Like ERF, this is a car safety credential, but this is specifically a rejection of putting your children into a booster seat at age 4, and instead keeping them strapped into a 5-point harness (any parent who ISN'T TRYING TO MURDER THEIR BABIES uses a 5-point harness) well into their preteen years.  According to the internet, these people are like the super-organic, found food, gluten free, fruitarians of the car-safety world.

Now personally, and please don't call Child Protection on me, I haven't earned any of those letters for my resume.  In fact, if I were to make my own, it would probably have to say things like, Lets My Kids Eat Cheerios That Were Probably Dropped On The Carpet Yesterday, and Frequently Laughs When My Daughter Talks About Her Own Farts.  But really, I assume you don't need to know those things about me.  That's right, I have a blog wherein there are pictures of me in short shorts and a sports bra to exhibit how fat I *was*, and I'm coming down on someone else for extensive self-disclosure.

Here's the lesson for today, folks.  That's great if you want to give birth in your bathtub or trap your children in a car seat till they're 27, or even, I hope, let them eat floor food.  If you believe in it, if you think it's best, rock it.  More power to ya.  But do you really have to introduce yourself like this is the world's most bizarre AA meeting?  "Hi, my name is Ashley, and I breast feed my gassy teenaged children while they are being restrained against their will?"   I mean, sure, there's a lot of prestige in it...

Signing off and heading to Bed,
Ashley

Owner of Dear Cat- adopted from the manager at my old apartment 3/05/07