Two Almonds With A Side Of Water

I recently signed up for a weight loss program. I've been thinking about it for a while. I have several friends who have recently gone through very big transformations in this area, and after setting my own goals at the beginning of the year and not even making a step towards them, I found myself contemplating my next step. What is the right plan? Is it safe? Is it supervised?

It can be a little overwhelming. And what's more, if you tell people about it, you have to explain yourself. And, of course, I tell people. I mean, come on. I can't shut up about anything. The only thing I don't share publicly is the who/what/when/where and how I do stuff with the opposite sex. I might spout off about singledom and vague representations of the past, but there is a line I draw around the men in my life to protect them. Sharing even that you went to coffee with them can cause major issues for men, and I know enough to know I don't want to be the one to put them in that situation. I might write about you like Taylor Swift does, in some pseudo-named, tragic love story on my single page, but before we went wrong? Oh heck no. That's on lock down. (Haha)

Back to things I can't shut up about...like my life. There are a few reasons I like sharing it, but I think the joy of writing is not only catharsis, and relieving one's brain of all the ideas floating around in it, but it's also about having an audience. If you directed a play, you hope someone will go see it. If you star in a movie, you hope someone will watch it. Sing a song, you want someone to listen. Take a picture, you want someone to look at it. If you write a book, you want people to read it. Etc, etc, you get the idea. Everyone has a something they offer to humanity, and it is good to recognize it in ourselves, and also in others, so we can be encouraged to keep doing it.

So, I write. I write about parenthood, singledom, moonlit nights, my family, my fears, thoughts, dreams, my tragedies, and my past. I write about God, banana bread, things that annoy me, yadda yadda yadda. It's really a crap shoot. Just like now, because today I'm writing about dieting.

Ahhhhh yes, dieting. It seems like everyone is on one, even if they don't know they are. Someone should tell them. "Um, excuse me, but did you know that your food has cancer-causing chemicals in it, that will not only preserve your organs like a 20-year old McDonald's french fry, but also cause you to die sooner? I didn't think so. Here's a pamphlet. You should really change your diet." Changing it means they already had one to begin with, so this is my belief - that we all are on a diet of some kind.

I started "dieting" (as in somewhat caring about what I ate) about 2 1/2 years ago after a family trip to Las Vegas. When pictures came out of the trip I was mortified. No, disgusted really. That would be more accurate. So I did something about it right then. I started a plan and went walking every night, and lost 20 pounds. Then I got depressed about some douchebag boy in my life, and stalled out at 20. Then I got over him and lost 10 more. Then I plateaued for about 2 years, teetering with the next 5 pounds like I was trying to win a yo-yo competition. Lose it, gain it back. Lose it again, gain it back.

Then my friends started losing weight, and I was like, "Gee, why can't I do that again?" So I set some goals, and then never did anything about it. Good intentions...too much "cheating". So here I am the 11th month of the year I said I was going to do something about my weight, and I'm finally doing something about it. Did I mention I'm a major procrastinator? Maybe not. I may have put it off for another time.

So, I signed up the other day, and I'm going over the (very) strict meal plan with my sister and my cousin-daughter (She's my cousin, but I'm one of her guardians, hence the name "cousin-daughter"). We were laughing about it, because that's what we do when we're trying to encourage each other. We make fun of something together, and it bonds us in laughter over something that may be depressing...like all the food you can't have, for instance.

I had no real rhyme or reason to the food prior to this, but I really like food, so I just ate it. Not the greatest plan in the world! Totally not healthy. Totally not doing anything about those extra pounds. So, I decided to follow my friends and pay some money to somebody who will babysit me (I mean, hold me accountable) to my plan, and supervise my weight loss, to make sure I'm staying healthy in the process.

I go home and tell my sister and cousin-daughter about it, we're looking over the food plan, and the joking starts in. "So, what CAN you eat?" I start detailing each meal and it comes to the afternoon snack where I get a veggie and a fat option. The "fat" option is, of course, healthy fat. Avocado, hummus, peanut butter, etc. And then there's almonds. I say, "If you do the almonds you can do 15 of them! (Said in an excited way that makes it sound like a lot.) My sister replies with something about how hard it's going to be this time of year, and what about when we go out with out friends, or eat at a restaurant, what am I going to order? I jokingly say, "Um, excuse me miss? Could I get two almonds and a side of water please? Thanks!" And we all laugh. Because this is how we encourage each other in the really hard decision of limiting food. We joke about what we can't have, knowing that it's going to be painful.

Three days later, my team at work is having a Thanksgiving potluck. I'm bringing homemade mashed taters and gravy. I dutifully keep to the food I signed up for, even though I know I can't eat any of it. The whole meal consists of absolutely nothing I can eat. I know this ahead of time, and I almost plan for it. Earlier that day, a friend an I go out for lunch. We split 3 sliders. I shouldn't have those either. And some sweet potato fries. Those are definitely not on my meal plan. Already I have broken the rules, so I figure in my head, I have one meal of the day already blown, I might as well make a day of it.

At this point in the week I'm a whopping 3 days in to my diet, losing 8 pounds in that time (which is mostly water weight), and practically "starving" (which I found out later was my own accidental fault). My will power to remain faithful to my meal plan is withering away by the minute - mostly because I'm hungry and want normal food. After the sliders and sweet potato fries, I happily down a banana for my snack, as if this somehow justifies the sliders and fries debacle.

By the time the potluck rolls around I've thrown caution and common sense to the wind, and have loaded up my plate with what consisted of carbs, carbs, fat, sugar, more carbs, topped only by sugar in a can (soda). I've gone all in, and it's beautiful. It tasted wonderful. "Real" food, finally. I savored every bite like it was my last meal, and stuffed myself until I was only pleasantly full (so not to overdo it, or anything crazy like that).

I walk away from the meal thinking, "I'll be able to lose this back. It's only one meal." My body, however, had gotten used to protein shakes and minimal eating over the last three days. The Thanksgiving dinner hit my stomach like a marshmallow in a microwave, bloating me up 5 pounds from the weight I had started with that day. I was uncomfortable, the waist on my pants making itself heard loud and clear, and the pain in my stomach, relentless.

Soooooo, this was a pretty dumb idea. And to top it off my weigh-in was the very next morning - my first weigh-in since I started the plan. I knew I had blown it. I got on the scale that night and nearly cried. All that hard work and one lousy day blew it. I knew I had still lost a few pounds, but not nearly as much as I could have if I had done what I was supposed to. I was paying someone to basically screw myself. Go me.

I went in the next day, knowing my doctor was going to look at my meal sheet for the week and do what needed to be done. That's what I'm paying her for, after all. I step on the scale and had still lost 3 pounds for the week, or technically 3 days, of being on the plan. Three pounds in three days is nothing to balk at, but still...I knew better. So did she.

At least I was honest on the meal sheet. I clearly stated what I ate, even when I cheated. I told her every single thing I had during "Thanksgiving dinner". At least I could be honest. She didn't scold me. I already knew what I had done. Already shaming myself for it.

As I'm sitting there in her office I start to get hungry. Old habits die hard, and all I could think about was Chick-Fil-A, and their stupid chicken biscuits. "I wonder if they're still serving breakfast right now. No, I can't have that! Marci!! You just crashed your diet and the very next day, while sitting IN the doctor's office talking about how you bombed it, and need to stick to the plan, all you can think about is chicken biscuits?!?! Okay, what could I have instead? I need something right now to hold me over until I eat breakfast. I'm SO hungry! Something on the list. On the list. On the list. Something healthy. Something small.........."

And almost without hesitation, as if I had come full circle in my demise, shame, desperation, and regained hope, the first and only thing that came to my mind was pulling into the nearest drive-thru and asking......"Could I get two almonds with a side of water?"

Haha
Still practicing :)