Diet Day 9- July 17th
I went to the park this morning…and I had company! My hubby came with me. Which is a big deal. He puts up a good front, but truth is, he’s sick alot. He has been unable to walk much or leave the house much, especially recently and especially in the heat. Every time he starts getting a little better something happens. Some cancer side effect gets in the way, or medication affect. But, he woke up feeling good. Good days are rare …so, pressured by yours truly, we went to the park together. I was freaking ecstatic. The hubby has been so supportive of my whole health thing and now to share it with him. He felt good to be out with me supporting me. Plus, before the cancer he was always an active person, on some ridiculous adventure. So the two of us went outside together…we both we’re just having a fun time, goofing around. We made it to the end of the trail and I realized something. I wasn’t tired like I usually am. I told that to my hubby and he told me to try a little jog.
I wasn’t really self-conscious of anything or embarrassed to try, I just genuinely thought I couldn’t do it. Omar took the water bottle from my hand and gave me a smile and a playful shove. I put one foot in front the other hesitantly and I repeated and repeated and I was jogging before I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t jog for long or far, maybe about 40 seconds- a minute of jogging. But, I did my sprint of jogging. It was the first time I genuinely jogged for anything in God knows how long. When I finish my first sprint of jogging, I turned around and had a smile so big I could have given the kool aid character a run for his money. I felt so exhilarated. So genuinely happy. Like a kid.
I don’t think I would have tried if it wasn’t for my hubby. While I had doubt in myself, he didn’t. And once I tried, I wasn’t scared or doubtful no more. I started doing random sprints of jogging on the way back. “ I’m going to jog to the pole! I’m going to jog to that bush!” The kid in me burst free, and was out to play.
About half way back, the hubby needed to rest. This was the most exercise he has done in a long time and he was just about spent. So we left the trail at the half way point to head home that way, a little bit shorter. I would jog a little bit in front of him and then jog back to meet him. I can’t remember the last time my spirits were this high.
When we got home, we realized him coming to the park was too much too soon for him. In fact, it was kind of a stupid idea to begin with. To make a person who has been having random muscle spasm and nerve spasm for the past month to exert so much energy? Not our brightest moment. But, the type of person my hubby is, he rather enjoy his good day and pay for it the rest of the week. That’s exactly how long it took him to recover from our little woodland adventure. Plus, he had unexpected allergies to the sun, he broke out in heat blisters.
It saddened me. I hate to see him sick. Especially, after seeing him so happy and peaceful in the park, experiencing all the feelings I have been feeling since going to the park to work out. I love him and want to share everything with him. But, it also encouraged me, to keep going and trying to become fit so we can actually have a future, and have a chance to be healthy and happy together. He has his own fight with cancer to fight. Now, I have my fight for my health.
So while I was sad he was sick, and a bit guilty for nagging him to come with, I still was in high spirits. I’ve made an achievement today with genuine effort on my part and support from my love. In sickness and in health we will be there for each other… even though it seems we’ve been doing nothing but savagely fighting for the health part.
But, we’re fighters. And stubborn. We may lose a round, but we’ll bounce back for the rematch.
And knowing we have each other in our corners, I have complete faith in winning.
Diet Day 8 July 16th
I haven’t had a feeling of accomplishment in a long time. Sure, I’m productive and helpful. But, it’s usually for OTHER people. Not myself. So I woke up today with a great sense of fulfillment. I’ve done something for myself. I successfully completed week one of my health thing. It’s only the first week. But, the first week is the hardest right?
Now, I want to talk about an issue. More specifically, an object.
I didn’t weigh myself before I started this health thing. I weighed myself maybe two or three week before. Well, I weighed my dog. And I heard a way to get a accurate reading was weigh yourself, then weigh yourself while holding the dog and then take the difference for the weight. But, I ended up weighing myself and the number on the scale haunted me for a few days. While I did have issues with the number on the scale, I just want to be clear, it’s not the reason I started my health thing.
I’m not on a weight loss diet. It’s not about losing a specific amount of weight. Or reaching a goal weight. I don’t have a desired size I want to become.
However, I do need to lose weight to accomplish what I do desire…being fit. My ultimate goal is be physically fit. I want to have more stamina, flexibility and durability during a workout. I want to not have to worry about what shoes I wear and being out of breath, or counting stairs. That’s no way to live. I want to live a productive life, an active and productive life. To do so, I will need to get the weight down. Weather my pursuit of physical fitness brings me to the skinny side of the scale or not doesn’t really matter. But, as of now, at this weight, I’m already having physical complications. Even in working out, I can’t physically train or do certain exercises and workouts. I had to google “exercises for fat people” and “beginner work outs for obese people”.
I’m not making excuses. I just want my readers to know, I don’t want to obsess with reaching a specific number, losing a specific amount of weight. So, I debated long and hard about doing this , and posting what I’m about to post. But, after a chat with my fitness guru, I decided I had too.
Every Monday, I’m getting on the scale. Today, one week complete, I pulled out the scale. It told me I was minus four pounds from my last known weight. I never really voluntarily got on a scale before. I even remember my last doctors visit, he weighed me and I closed my eyes and I told him I don’t want to know the number. He laughed at me thinking it was a joke. I was dead serious. He shook his head when I got off the scale and crossed the room so I couldn’t read the fine print of the doctor’s scale. I was always haunted by the number on the scale.
I’ll be lying if I said I still wasn’t, and was completely free of that issue. I’m not 100% over it. But, I’m in a MUCH better place with “the number”. I’m slowly coming to terms that numbers don’t matter. My ultimate goal of activity and health is what matters. No number can put value on that. The day I’m able to jog along the coast of the beach… that is worth so much more than anything a scale can read.
However, my fitness guru talked me into stepping on the scale as a measurement of understanding my body. He told me “it’ll be stupid if you’re doing things one way and it’s not what you’re body needs. How would you feel if you work out and diet one way for a month with no improvement?” I think it’s true. At this stage in my fitness and health ( or lack off) seeing the numbers on the scale is a good way to know and understand what is ( or is not) working for you. If you’re gaining or stuck at the same number, obviously something you’re doing needs to change or be adjusted. So, I’m getting on the scale each week as a means to measure my progress ( or lack of progress).
I just feel so horrid though, using a scale. Because regardless of my own past issues with the scale, I really and truly believe the number shouldn’t matter. I don’t want to send any of my readers a negative message but more importantly I dont want to send myself that message especially since I’ve had issues for a long time. It took me all these years, but I finally and truly get it now. The numbers shouldn’t define you. YOU and what you DO should define you. Being obsessed with the numbers is just falling into the stereotypical trap of what society deems beautiful. You can be beautiful at any size, any number.
I never had self-esteem issues or self-confidence issues. Narcissism is too ingrained in my blood for that. I never thought I was ugly and “no one would want me”. But, i did have insecurity with the fucking number on the scale. I did feel people stared at me. It didn’t make me want to go home and cry and eat a whole chocolate cake. I would just shake my head and go about my business. But, writing through this blog and evaluating this whole number and scale issue has been good for me emotionally and mentally.It was a reminder to understand what it is I want to achieve. It has reminded me it’s not about the numbers, it’s about the faith you have in yourself. The desire to want to take care of yourself and invest in yourself and your own future. You need to believe in your own self-worth, at any number.
So i sat down and thought, If I don’t love myself, trust myself and believe in myself …then it doesn’t matter. Numbers won’t change that. I will always be unhappy with myself.
Beginning the 2nd week of my health thing, I’m anything but unhappy with myself.
Diet Day 6, July 14th and Diet Day 7, July 15th
I didn’t exercise for these two days. I had unexpected company over on Saturday which led to a late night which led to a lazy morning. I did however, not break my diet. I also, powered through the weekend without drinking. That’s one of the conditions in my health thing.
Drinking alcohol really slows down your metabolism. Not to mention how you feel the next day, you may be hung over. Plus, the dehydration drinking puts you through. Of course there are calories too. You would be surprised how many calories are in a single beer. When my fitness guru told me a typical beer is 300 and something calories i said ” whattt, that’s almost a fucking meal!”. So I gave up drinking for this health thing.
It’s not like I’m an alcoholic. But, I got used to having a few drinks when I’m entertaining company. Or even just trying to relax and decompose myself. Nothing is better than an ice cold brew in the hot summer heat. It’s one stereotype I can’t help but fall into. I’m a 20 something year old and I love to drink.
But, for the sake of my health, I’m not. And I think I did spectacular for my first weekend.
What had me worried the most though was Sunday morning. My mother cooks a big breakfast… eggs, bacon, hash browns and we get bagels and rolls freshly baked from the bakery. I’m started many diets over the past months, and if I made it to the weekend, I always broke for Sunday breakfast.
But, I survived the bacon test. I indulged a little bit, had one egg on my whole grain bread with cheese. My mouth was so freaking happy. I actually was full half way through the sandwich but I ended up nibbling my way through to finish it off. Couldn’t bear to waste it, especially knowing I’m on a diet and that’s the most exciting meal I’ve had in days.
After that indulgent, it was surprisingly easy to stay strict on a diet.
I was talking to my fitness guru and he told me to cheat. Not binge eat cheat but I will have more success on a diet if I cheat. But, I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that. He told me my body is going through deprivation of sorts, especially since I’m doing a real intense diet. Almost a vegetarian diet. But, the portion control and low carb combined with that…absolutely no junk food or soda. My guru told me the first thing that’s going to happen to me, maybe in another couple of days, is I’m going to go into insulin shock. My body is going to crave sugar and I’m going to find myself on the kitchen floor eating 12 pieces of chocolate or candy.
And, I can picture myself doing just that. But, I didn’t cheat. I drink coffee and there is sugar in my coffee. Some of the fruits I eat have sugar in them so I just ate an additional fruit after my chat with him.
It’s just a reminder. Everyone is different. Everyone’s body is different. What works for one person may not work for another. Which is why I started my health thing in near secret. The hassle and “advice” and criticism of others will make you lose your damn mind. Don’t be a fool, do your research and try different things and find something that works for you. For me, I’m just finding my diet groove.
I survived my first week of diet and exercise and it wasn’t completely miserable.
Diet Day 5- July 13th
Life interrupts routines. My readers are people I know in real life. So if you’re reading this you probably know my circumstance. For the past three years ( for my father) and almost two years for my fiancee I have been acting as a caretaker for them. Because of that, I’m home bound so I do laundry, clean and household chores( I would do it anyway cause I’m home but, ) that my mother orders me to do. I can’t forget about my special needs dog either. I’m like a stay at home wife and stay at home parent just without the kids. That’s why I have the liberty to eat on a schedule or go to the park in the mornings. I don’t have to report anywhere, so I don’t have much of a problem or conflict. If you’re going to school and/or working… its harder to maintain a health routine. Usually life dictates what you can and cannot do.
Today, life interrupted me.
Woke up in the morning to the news my Aunt is in the hospital. She had a bad asthma attack and actually passed out and stopped breathing. So breakfast and work out forgotten I showered and dressed while downing coffee and was heading to Rockaway before I knew it.
Turned out she was okay ( and is okay presently). But, my point with you today is how easy it is to break routine.
I could have stuck to at least the eating schedule. I could of ate something before I left. Even quickly. Oatmeal takes a minute to make. But, I choose not to. It’s the easy way out. What I’m used to doing. Old habits die hard. Needless to say, when I came home, I was starving. I ate a typical diet meal but Omar was eating one of those frozen pizzas. And, yes I took a few bites. But, I ‘m trying not to be anal about my diet. Strict, yes. But, not anal.
I also realized the only work out I am doing is walking in the park which is good cardio and what’s best for me… but also using the bike which is strictly legs and cardio. Basically all I’m working out is my lower half of my body.
So since I spent the day visiting my aunt then running around to get everything in the house done, I didn’t have time to go to the park. So I decided to use a resistant band, some 5pound dumbbells. And the shake weight. I did some stretches and warm up moves. Then I did a few sets of different exercises with the resistant band. The same with the dumbbell. Then I gave the shake weight a try.
And felt like an idiot. Then I felt weak. I could barely make that thing shake. But color me blue that shit actually works. It’s really a good work out. I felt it in my whole upper body. I was surprised.
But, I went to bed that night with a despondent outlook on my life. I wonder if I would have the motivation and dedication to stay on a health routine when I’m actually engaged in the outside world in whatever it may be (hopefully a job).
That’s when I realized that is exactly how I got to the place I am now, mentally and physically. I got sloppy. I stopped caring about myself. It happens when you wear jeans and tees and sneakers for half the day while you’re in and out the house doing errands. And PJS for the rest of the time. I wasn’t investing time into myself, mind or body. I was letting myself go but more importantly I was letting myself down. I’ve become a hermit. I live in my own little bubble of crazy. My hubby loves me unconditionally and it doesn’t matter what I look like, what I wear or what I eat or how often I eat or didn’t eat. He doesn’t obsess about that stuff as long as I’m happy. While I was happy, it was easy to just get lost in that comfort. I never had to think “do i look okay” or dress to impress.
But, it is that same comfort that is giving me inspiration to stay strict and dedicated. More importantly, he is reminding me to stay focused on myself. He flat out told me he would shove a cookie in my mouth if I was doing this for him, or family, or friends, or society or anyone or anything besides myself. And he’s not kidding. That’s why I love him. He is my bungee cord. He is giving me space to work on myself mentally and physically but he is the cord there to stop me from crashing and splattering on the ground, stop me before I fall. It gives me motivation to be healthy not for him but with him. While he is fighting cancer, I can fight my own fight too and in the future we can reap the benefits from out hard work together… happy and healthy.
So routine or not. Home bound or working. It doesn’t matter. If you want to do something, do it. Life will throw hurdles at you. If we stop every time a hurdle arises, we will never cross the finish line.
And I want to finish the race.
July 12th 2012- Diet Day 4
I was staring at my nearly empty lettuce dish, with browning lettuce leaves because not only was the dish eaten from it wasn’t closed properly. Lettuce is a big part of my diet. I have it with every meal or as a snack or as filler. Yeah, I don’t buy the groceries. But, when I’m the only person in the house on a diet at least have some consideration. Don’t eat the last fruit or finish off the lettuce, especially without telling me. They’re other things YOU can eat, but I cannot while on diet. So rude.
So I sent my dad to pathmark for supplies. But, he takes forever. So I was rummaging around the kitchen until I finally gave up. I went to the basement to score a banana from my grandfather. He has ritual every Sunday. He prays to his Gods and as an offering he lays out bananas. He usually brings half of them upstairs and then he keeps the other half from himself. But, lately he hasn’t been allowed to eat bananas cause his sugar is out of whack ( he is a diabetic). So he just leaves a few on the alter and brings them up later on in the week if he does not eat them. I remember once my hubby was eating a banana and he stopped mid bite with a conflicted look on his face. He asked me who bought the bananas and when I told him it was from my grandfather he was like “but, these are supposed to be to his Gods… and he gave them away… aren’t his Gods going to be mad…” I laughed. I think the point is show tribute to them and then when you eat the banana you have your Gods blessings. I really doubt his Gods would just want the bananas to spoil and be wasted. But, my hubby stopped eating bananas for a while until I told him “Hey my grandpa eats one every day and he is 92 years old, overcame many illnesses and is in better shape than most of us. I think the bananas are safe. “
But anyway, that was my breakfast of champions.
And my knee was killing me so I didn’t risk going to the park. So I used my exercise bike.
But, this is where I verve off and discuss an issue. A woman’s issue. I really don’t mind if you male readers skip this part, so this is your warning.
My menstrual cycle has become severely irregular because of the excess weight. It’s something big girls are familiar with. Some girls just stop getting it altogether. I remember when I first stopped getting it monthly. I was freaking the fuck out and for the very first time I bought a pregnancy test when I was on my way to school. I couldn’t wait to go home so I found a secluded bathroom and commandeered the handicapped stall. It was negative of course. But, the correct way to take a pregnancy test is first thing in the morning so I didn’t rest easy until the next morning. At this point though, about 3 years later, it’s an effective mode of birth control. I freak out about my cycle so much, even knowing it’s irregular. Even knowing my hubby’s cancer treatment affects his chances of reproducing. It’s damn near illogical to freak out. But, I still do. I have enough stress and worry, and with my luck, I just can’t even go there. But, even though I know it’s irregular, my cycle has become regulated irregular to a week once every 3 months. So low and behold my surprise when I got my period again when I just had it two and half weeks ago.
I almost prefer the irregular cycle. I forgot what it’s like to get your period every fucking month. What the fuck did women do to deserve that? It is a serious design flaw.
But, under all that it encouraged me. Stress is enough to mess up my irregular regular cycle, and boy do I got a lot of stress and worries. But three days of diet and exercise and it kick started my menstrual cycle? It made me happy to feel like I was really making a difference in my health.
And I couldn’t help but laugh myself to sleep that night. I’m already cranky from my diet. Now the universe is throwing PMS my way too. Oh boy. At least, my dad returned from Pathmark with coffee. Cause without that, surely I would go on a rampage from deranged hormones.