I’m struggling a bit with this weigh loss challenge. Last week you may remember I was ready to eat a cheeseburger because I had only lost 1 pound by Thursday morning. Friday came and I weighed in at 2.8 pounds less than the week before. This past week was even worse. By Thursday morning the scale still had not budged. When I weighed in Friday morning I was down a whole .8 pound. Not 8 pounds. There’s a decimal point before that 8. 8/10 of a pound is what I lost. And yesterday when I stepped on the scales? I was up more than a pound! Today I still weighed in a whole pound heavier than what I weighed on Friday.
You know, I get that I didn’t put this on overnight and I won’t take it off overnight. But goddammit, I have been working my ass off and to not even lose a pound? That’s bullshit. Why the fuck am I restricting myself if that’s going to be my payoff?
I am nowhere close to the point where I am comfortable plateauing.Talk to me in another 25-30 pounds… sure, I can hang out at that weight for a little bit. But now? No.
I ran 14.5 miles last week. Five on Sunday, 4.5 on Tuesday, 3 on Thursday, and 2 on Friday. In fact, I got up at 6 in the morning so that I could run before work, thinking maybe that would help my metabolism.
I have been sticking with my low carb diet. Jesus Christ, I have a half a cup of cottage cheese for lunch most days. That’s my main dish. There may be a hard boiled egg or a piece or two of cheese. I’m not gorging on Wendy’s cheeseburgers or chicken sandwiches. I don’t eat the croutons that come on my salad. I threw away the potato chips that came with my cheeseburger. I count carbs on everything before I stick it in my mouth. I drink coffee with sweetener only in it instead of loading it up with flavored creamer. I haven’t had a sandwich in 8 weeks. I drink lukewarm water out of the tap because we aren’t allowed to have a working ice machine and I’m already loaded up like a pack mule every goddamn day when I go into work. It sucks.
Last week I thought maybe I wasn’t eating enough so I tried to shake it up this week. I did end up ordering a cheeseburger twice from a restaurant. No bun. The first time I tried the lettuce wrap trick. Didn’t work. Burned my fingers. The second time I just used a fork and a knife. I know ketchup is high in carbs so I limit myself to one packet. I had a taco salad one day. Just lettuce, taco meat, sour cream, taco sauce, and cheese. We’d had tacos the night before so I brought the leftovers in. The other two days it was cottage cheese and hard boiled eggs.
I planned on having biscuits and gravy for breakfast this weekend. And pizza for dinner. Maybe some cake. Hell, if I’m not going to lose, or worse yet, I’m going to gain, after denying myself I may as well eat whatever the hell I want on weekends. Oh, only lost a half a pound? Not surprised. I ate like a pig over the weekend.
Instead despite being so pissed and disappointed that I was actually weighing in on Saturday morning at a higher weight I still got up and ran. I did 3.25 miles. I came home and had five pieces of bacon for breakfast. I had tuna fish salad for lunch, and steak, salad, and broccoli for dinner.
I had a bacon and cheese omelette for breakfast on Sunday, had an Atkins bar for lunch, and ate wings for dinner. I’m still debating whether or not I’m going to get up before work and run, if I’ll run after work, or if I’ll just take two full days off.
I’m trying to push through this. I’m trying to stay the course and tell myself that this coming Friday is a new day. I’m trying very hard not to let this get me down. But I’ve gotta be honest. If I weigh in at the same weight on Friday I’m saying, “Fuck it all.” I am not going to deny myself for another year or more with no results. I’m tired of never enjoying what I eat. I’m tired of having to pick the breading off of chicken my mom makes because I can’t eat carbs. I’m tired of having to go over everything with a fine tooth comb in order to make sure I stay under 30 net carbs. I’m tired of opening the refrigerator and seeing it full of things I can’t eat because I’m only one person in this household and I’m not going to restrict everyone else. I’m tired of not being able to grab something mindlessly and munch on it. I’m tired of never being able to have a piece of cake or enjoy a flavored coffee or grab a muffin or eat a cheeseburger and fries or pizza. I miss sushi. I miss Chinese food. I’m not doing it if there’s no payoff.
I know that in order for a “diet” to succeed you actually need to implement a lifestyle change. You can’t go back to eating the way you’ve always eaten. That’s why my long term plan has been to closely watch my carbs during the week, and allow myself whatever I want on the weekends. I wasn’t planning on pigging out every weekend but being able to go out to dinner and have pizza or pasta would be nice. Being able to have a glass of wine or stop at a winery for samples and appetizers would be divine. I’d like to have hash browns occasionally. Maybe a waffle. So, weekends would be my chance to indulge. I have remained diligent even on the weekends throughout this because I’m not at the maintenance stage yet.
Let me be clear on something else. I’m not eating stuff I hate. But it is definitely more difficult to follow a low carb diet when you’re outside of the house working. If I don’t get up in time to pack my lunch I have nothing to eat. Choices are pretty limited at the few restaurants that are still open. I don’t particularly enjoy eating a cheeseburger with a fork. I don’t want to order a salad from Subway; I don’t like them from Subway. I’m tired of the chicken Cobb salad at the cafe I sometimes go to; they usually mess it up somehow anyway.
I’m not going away hungry but I’m also not ever thinking, “Oh my God! That was amazing. I am so satisfied.” No, it’s more like, “I ate something that I didn’t detest. No, I’m not hungry but I wouldn’t have chosen that if I weren’t on this diet, or lifestyle change. Let me shovel this cottage cheese down my throat and wait for the next weigh in.” Seriously. I rarely enjoy my food. I don’t hate it. I don’t make myself eat stuff that I don’t like. But I don’t enjoy it and I would never say that I’m satisfied.
I can make that sacrifice as long as I am making progress and achieving my goals. I find it very difficult to keep going when I’m not making progress and my goals keep getting farther and farther in the distance. That is what’s happening right now.
I also know I have no accurate measurements from before. I can tell you how much I weighed in December of 2015 after I got off the divorce diet. I can tell you what I weighed in May or June of 2018. I can tell you what I weighed from August 2019 through December 2019. But I have no idea how much I weighed once I could finally eat again. I have no idea how much I weighed when I moved back to Indiana. I have no idea how much I weighed when I was working two jobs. I have no idea how much I weighed when I met the mobster. I have no idea how much I weighed on my last day in the banking center. There’s a good three years in there that are lost.
I know that I would like to lose a minimum of another 50 pounds and at a rate of .8 pounds lost per week, that’s going to take over a year. A year! That is ridiculous, especially considering how strict I have been.
If I’m popping cookies into my mouth once or twice a week, stopping for a Starbucks coffee, and indulging in pizza once a week? Sure. Less than a pound a week sounds great. When I’m having a half a cup of cottage cheese and a hard boiled egg for lunch every day, eliminating pasta, bread, potatoes and rice, eating a piece of meat and a vegetable every night for dinner, and running 3-4 days a week? No. Less than a pound is not acceptable. Less than two pounds isn’t acceptable. I’d better see some fucking fantastic results for that kind of dedication.
I was hoping to be about 10 pounds lighter when I finally get to see the mobster at the end of this month. I was hoping I would be able to reach the 20% body weight loss goal for the weight loss challenge. At the rate I’m going I’m not going to reach either of those goals. I made both of those goals when I was losing at least 2.5 pounds a week. In the last two weeks I’ve lost 2.6 pounds. If I keep this up I’m not sure I’m going to hit the 15% mark either. I still have to lose 8 pounds to reach that one; I’ve got 8 weeks. If I keep losing like I am I will have only lost 6 pounds by the time it’s over.
I’m done bitching. I’m going to focus on my carb loaded menu for next weekend, starting with Friday’s lunch. Meatball sub from Subway.
UPDATE: No, I haven’t suddenly dropped 5 pounds. I am only .2 pounds heavier than I was on weigh in day so that’s… progress.
No, I’m done with my temper tantrum. I’m still pissed but I’m letting it go. I had my Jimmy Dean egg frittatas this morning, took in a cup of coffee with my sweetener in it, threw an Arctic cup filled with ice in my lunch bag, and had tuna fish salad and an Atkins bar for lunch. I drank cold water all day today, some of it flavored with peach and mango Crystal Light, and came home and ran 4 miles. I was only going to do three; I don’t know what comes over me but I get a wild hair up my ass and do things I don’t expect to do.
Yes, I’m discouraged that the weight is not coming off; however, I know the scales don’t tell you everything. My daughter is home (yippee!) and she is cautioning me getting into the “diet culture” and focusing on my weight. I was walking around today, wearing my fat pants and realizing that they are almost too big to wear anymore.
I bought them and 2 other pairs when I got tired of wearing dresses all the time because all of my damn pants were too tight. My gray pair have always been a little looser than the first black pair. The first black pair is one size up from what I normally take in that brand. The second black pair is two sizes up. I bought them because I couldn’t find two pairs of black pants in the size I wanted. So the fat fat pants are definitely too big. The gray fat pants are getting to the point I’m a little afraid they might fall off of me. Not sure about the black fat pants. They’ve always been a little tighter. I know they’re looser but I’m not sure if they’re at the falling off of me point.
I’m hoping that even if the scale isn’t moving that changes are happening. My daughter assures me that it’s normal to plateau for a week or two and then you begin to lose again. I’m hoping that’s what happens to me because these last two weeks have sucked. Excuse me. They’ve been very disappointing.
Just keep swimming, I tell myself.