Husband and I are counting calories, trying to kick-start our weight loss back in to gear. He's much more disciplined than I am. He keeps track of everything and sticks to his limits. I tend to freak out.
I HATE counting points, calories and ounces. It feels WRONG to measure one serving of crackers. That's 16 Wheat Thins, in case you wondered. Do you know how measly that is? Or my favorite-of-all time: Life cereal? 1 cup barely covers the bottom of my bowl. And 8 recommended glasses of water per day? I'm lucky if I can finish one Nalgene full of Chrystal Lite. I know its going to make a difference, so I'm keeping track of everything, but I'm begrudging about the whole process. "Reluctant" sounds too kind; I'm a pouting, cranky dieter.
Last night on the way home from work I confessed, "I feel frail."
Husband laughed and said, "Are you hungry?"
I answered with a feeble "Yes. I feel like I'm wasting away."
I know that's my goal, one pound at a time, but c'mon man, a little sympathy here.
Being hungry makes me feel lonely. How sad is that? Food has definitely become a coping mechanism. I didn't realize how emotional the attachment was until I started monitoring my intake. It's only been a week, but boy, it's harsh. It's like the point in an unhealthy relationship when you finally acknowledge you have to break up. Ouch.
To stay motivated, I just look at recent pictures of my double chin. OK, I don't really have portraits of my chin, but it sure shows up often enough. ICK! Plus, I had my cholesterol checked for the first time last year. The results were not great. I got a phone call from my nurse practitioner urging me to start a mega-dose of Vitamin D in addition to diet and exercise to keep it in check. I'm curious to know if it's changed in the last year. My family history of high cholesterol makes me want to keep a close eye on it. My family history also involves a deeply ingrained love of peanut butter, so go figure.
Now that Husband and I are back to really being serious about weight loss, I'm loving our local produce stand. It's open April through November, and we're getting all the fresh fruit and veggies we can get our hands on. I don't count calories for raw vegetables. I figure I should be earning bonus points for eating like a rabbit, so not counting "freebie" calories from vegetables seems like a good compromise with myself. I've been bringing bell peppers, carrots, broccoli and celery to work as a snack. I'm trying to use the afternoon munchies as a reminder to drink more water, have small protein or vegetable snacks, and spread the calories throughout the day.
And speaking of unhealthy relationships, I've got to end my torrid love affair with the vending machine. I'm not keeping anymore change in my desk drawer. Skittles and Famous Amos cookies can undo all my progress. Even mentioning them gives me butterflies. Office romances are never a good idea. It's got to end, Emily. You deserve better.