Back in the Saddle

So, I was really slacking for a couple of months.  My boyfriend noticed that I was really unhappy at my previous job, but I was in deep, deep denial about it.  The truth of the matter is that I was coming home with less and less motivation, feeling less and less happy, wanting to do less and less.

Then I lost my job.

God, that was awful.  I was sure it was a dream for a few minutes.  A nightmare, really.  I cried.  A lot.  Everyone involved was kind of robotic about the whole situation.  It's the first time I had "failed" in a clear and distinct way in adulthood, and I didn't take it well.

Then I got another job.

Well, that didn't last nearly as long as I thought it would.  I'm very happy to say that I got a much better job with a better salary.  So, the excuses are off of the table.  It's time to get back in the saddle.  In the last week alone I've dropped a good chunk of weight (after pigging out the previous week).

Proof of progress!

So here I go, trying to get out of the 200s.  9 pounds to go!

Don't Wanna

God, therapy was hard today.  The last couple of weeks have been hard.  I can't pinpoint one particular thing that is getting in my way or making it hard, but my therapist pointed out that weight that is put on by emotional eating usually prompts one to have to face what got them into that position.

Ugh.  Don't wanna.  Hard work is hard.  Can I nap now?  I'll do it later.  Go away.

Now that I've lost more than thirty pounds, I find it hard to remember what it was like less than five months ago to be that much heavier.  I still feel like this is the same exact skin I was walking in back in November, but now there's thirty plus pounds of backlogged emotional process I forgot to work through.  It's like paperwork.  It's so not what you got into your field for and you so have to do it anyway.

Don't wanna.

Eating the junky stuff used to numb me out to what I was feeling, primarily loneliness and sadness.  You can definitely be surrounded by people and feel alone.  You can definitely be the first to laugh, and the loudest laugh in the bunch, then go home and cry for some reason.  Those feelings are uncomfortable.  If I focus on eating ALL OF THE THINGS then I don't have to focus on feeling.  I can't do that any more.  Time to put my big girl pants on.

Don't wanna.

And face what I'm really feeling.

Don't wanna.

And hit the treadmill instead of numbing out.

Don't wanna don't wanna don't wanna.

sigh  You hear that?  That's my inner four-year-old who only wants to play and never wants to do anything responsible.  I'm gonna go put her down for a nap so I can get some work done.

Hunger

I thought about the above image this past week while I was talking to someone about what makes them cranky.  They weren't getting enough sleep and got cranky and had a bad day at school.  I get cranky when I'm hungry.  I realized that this is another aspect of my success: I'm addressing my hunger.

First of all, all of my meals are filling and healthy so that I can have large portions that satisfy.  This largely keeps hunger at bay, which largely keeps cravings in check, which largely keeps me in a good mood.  God, I can be such a witch when I'm hungry.  Just to divert into a story for a minute, I think the best example was on a Sunday post-LARP.  Now, I tend not to eat until we gather at a diner at about noon time.  Big trouble.  This particular time, we were also trying to do a video project that ran long, and we had planned to film part of it in the diner.  That didn't really work out for PR reasons.  When my boyfriend turned to me and asked me what I wanted to do, I distinctly remember snapping and saying,  "I just... I'M TIRED AND HUNGRY AND I WANT TO EAT!"  I knew I was wrong for being upset, because it really wasn't anyone's fault, but people seemed to understand.  A friend hugged me and told my boyfriend, "Get this girl something to eat."  We got burgers and french fries at a drive-through, and I felt instantly better.  You can not keep me hungry and expect me to be civil.  It doesn't work that way.  Moving on...

Second of all, I snack on what I crave for including salty nuts, chocolate, salty and crunchies, and cheese.  Is it healthy?  Probably not, but the fact that my smallest portions are the things I really want help me stick to my overall plan.

Finally, my mother was wrong.  She once told me that for a diet to work, you have to be a little bit hungry all of the time.  Uuuhhh, no.  Not for me, ma.  Sorry.  I know me.  When I'm hungry, it's time to look for a snack, and not necessarily a healthy one.  What I'm saying is, know yourself and work that into your plan.  I don't want to hear you nay-sayers talk to me about how this is unhealthy, won't work in the long run, etc.  This is how I've got to do it.  You go on doing what you got to do.

"Worthy of Love"

For me, and I'm sure for a lot of other people, losing weight is not just a physical journey.  This past week I experienced some breakthroughs in therapy that were painful but also enlightening.  Anyone who knows me well knows that I've been through some pretty traumatizing stuff as a kid, but I don't let it dictate the kind of adult I want to be.  Part of my weight problem is an image problem.  Part of my image problem is a self-esteem problem.  Part of my self-esteem problem comes from a basic belief that I am not loveable.

I looked up the meaning of my name when I was little and I got both "loveable" and "worthy of love" from the Latin "ama" or "to love."  It felt like a cruel joke, that that was the meaning of my name.  From a very young age, I never felt like I was loved.  That just wasn't in my family's vocabulary.  My mom showed love by always having something to eat.  No matter how busy she was, how angry, whatever, there was always food.  However, that didn't make me feel loved.

To this day, despite years of working at it in and out of therapy, there is still a part of me that's not convinced I'm loved.  I have friends, some very long-standing ones, but I still have trouble believing these people actually like me.  Sometimes I feel like all anyone really likes is the carefully constructed facade that I've convinced everyone is the real me.  "So what?" some of you might say, "Aren't we all careful about the way we present ourselves to people?"  Perhaps, but it goes deeper than that.  In the past week, I had been feeling insecure and overwhelmed by the thought that even my boyfriend doesn't really love me.  Now, I can't tell you how absurd this idea is, or how unfair it is for me to even think that about the man I love, who is also crazy about me, but this isn't a rational thought and rationalizing it doesn't make it go away.

This is why my attempts at weight loss have failed before.  How in the world was I supposed to think I was worth the effort if I didn't even think I was worthy of love or the least bit loveable?  This is the thought that could unravel everything and make sure I fail again.  Not this time.  I have a boyfriend who does love me and supports me and inspires me.  I have friends who do love me for who I am, and not who I think I'm pretending to be.  I have supporters everywhere in my life who like me enough to encourage and compliment me.  I'm a good person.  I'm a hard-working person.  I deserve to be a healthy person.

I am loved.

30 Pounds Gone and Inspiration

My waist measurement is getting smaller.  My chest, too.  Clearly I'm losing some in my hips and thighs as well.  I was hoping to be out of the 200s by nowish, but every pound is a challenge now.  Still, officially thirty pounds down.  Feeling great.

Exercise is getting easier -- namely running.  I'm trying to work up to 30 minutes at 5.0, which is no small feat for a girl who finds running quite challenging.  Ultimately, I'd like to get to 6.0 and higher.  With every pound lost, that goal becomes more and more realistic and -- dare I say it? -- easy.

The newest struggle I've come across is thinking about the old me -- me in November and December.  Me a year ago, even.  I look at old pictures and I feel... awful.  I don't ever want to go back there.  My progress is enough to inspire me to keep going, but when there's the occasional comment of, "You look MUCH better than you did before"... I don't know.  I guess I just feel sorry for old me, fat Amanda.  I liked me.  I worked really hard to like me, even though many people tried very hard to get me to hate me.  I very much enjoy who I am now.  I'm healthier, have more energy, and I'm more happy.  So, does old Amanda have to be put down like that?  I guess I'm worried about what happens when I plateau for a long time, and I'm stuck being "just okay."  I hate failure.  I'm not sure why I'm having difficulty with this.  Maybe I just need more time to settle into me and accept that this is who I am now.

What's nice is that my change seems to have inspired a lot of people I know to get more serious about what they've got to do for their health.  It's nice to hear.  I never thought I'd be an inspiration of any sort, let alone a weight loss inspiration.  I plan to check in with picture progress again when I'm officially below 200.  That could take another 5-6 weeks.  Who knows?  Maybe longer.  I am proud of my work, though, and I will continue working.  By the holidays next year, I'll be ridiculously "better" than before.  I might even be okay with that.

"Irritatingly Pretty"

So, the last couple of weeks have done wonders for my self-esteem.  As I crawl little by little to the thirty-pound-loss mark, people are starting to notice the change and I'm getting a lot of great compliments.  My boyfriend and I attended a party where I wore an outfit that showed off my loss.  Ho, boy.  I couldn't take two steps without tripping over a compliment (or a request to show more).

Then last week a friend of mine offered an unsolicited compliment that really got me thinking.  I was asking another friend for advice on whether or not to dye my hair, which this other guy was adamantly against.  When I asked why, he said, "You're... irritatingly pretty" and basically, I shouldn't mess with a good thing.  What struck me in thinking about what he said since then is that people have been telling me some variation of that my entire life.  Remember my "You're pretty, but..." entry?  But the more I think about it, the more I realize that people have always noticed that I'm attractive.  It's just so hard to internalize with the messages I've received since... well, forever, about how I'm supposed to look.  Being the only Asian kid in a mostly white community (and, seriously, I'm only half) makes you look different already, but I can remember my mother telling me I was fat when I was eight years old.  EIGHT.

Here's a picture of my brother (left) and me (right) around that time, in case you were curious.

Then you got your routine bombardment of impossibly thin and flawless girls plastered all over all kinds of media as if other body types don't exist and, well, I thought it was a miracle that I even accepted, "Yeah, I'm unremarkably cute... but not pretty" up to this point.

What's more, my beauty isn't tied to my weight loss.  My health is, and not just my physical health.  My mental and emotional health have improved and will continue to improve, which is what I think is the big difference in these past weeks.  People haven't been complimenting me too much more than they have in the past, but now I'm just more ready to hear it and more able to internalize it.  It's a daily struggle, accepting the fact that yes, I am pretty even though no, I don't look the way others have told me I'm supposed to look.

I struggled with writing this entry for a solid week, maybe more.  It feels embarrassing to write about your own beauty, to really own it.  It feels unnatural.  So, I'm writing it now because, well, I deserve this.  Screw everyone who thinks I'm cocky and delusional and wrong.  I know me.  I am pretty.  I am beautiful.  I accept this.

My One Man Support System

My boyfriend asked me to post about his weight loss, and honestly it's astounding.  He'll never be skinny, and quite honestly that's fine with me.  He tends to bulk up like crazy once he starts lifting, which he hasn't done so instead he's been dropping pounds like crazy.  At tip top shape he'll be tall, broad, and muscular.  Yeah.  No complaints.  Rawr.  The plan is for him to start lifting at the end of March, when his workplace ends their "Biggest Loser" first quarter challenge.  For now, he's losing the extra mass, and this is what it's looked like so far:

Pretty dramatic change.  This morning he told me he's lost about 40% of the weight he intends to lose.  I'm so proud of him.  I'm so glad to have him as a partner in this journey.  He's inspiring and sparks my inspiration when I'm feeling low, but also allows me a break when I need one.  And he's all mine.  Rawr.

We've been dating for about two and a half years now, and we're always pushing ourselves to be better people -- smarter, healthier, more successful, less in debt, more fun.  I fell in love with his brain on our first date when he used the word "amalgamation."  Swoon.  Got to love an intelligent man.  I fell in love with his heart when he swallowed his pride and told me he loved me a few dates later -- even though I'd known it and felt it for a while by then.  I just didn't want to tell him, due to my own pride.  I fell in love with the rest of him pretty quickly after that, and even though there's technically less of him to love, I find myself falling more in love with this man who's made the most excellent partner in the past two and a half years.

Help me cheer him on!

22 Pounds Later

On November 28th, 2012, I was devastated to weigh in at 243 lbs.  It was an all time high weight and an all time low feeling.  I'd just given up.  Every time I tried to change my ways it never stuck, then my brilliant boyfriend came up with a system and a spreadsheet to track and reward ourselves.  Ten weeks later, 22 pounds are gone forever.

Today, I weighed in at 221 lbs after ten weeks of sticking to the program.  That's an average of 2.2 pounds lost per week.  Our system works for us, and we've been able to stick with it.  Here's what that kind of change looks like:

From Pillsbury ain't got nothing on these rolls to hourglass.

The 11/28/12 photos were a bit more... naked than I care to share with a mixed audience.  Anyway!  Yeah!  Looking good, right?  At this rate, I'll be out of the 200s in 5-6 weeks.  By June I could be in the 180s.  I know there will be plateaus.  Hell, I already hit one:

My FitBit chart of weigh-ins.

But I'm determined to keep at it and adjust things when it stops working.  I'm so glad to making real, lasting change, and a lot of it has to do with the support I've been getting for this new self-work project.  Thank you to all reading this.  In some little way or maybe a major way, you've been helping me.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have 10,000 steps to get in.

What Worked For Me

We're all special snowflakes, right?  Well, that may more or less be true as far as weightloss goes.  I can't stand the additude of, "Eat less.  Move more.  It's not rocket science."  Well, for some people it is.  You're missing so many dimensions with that attitude -- mental health, ecology, GENES.  For a plan to work, it has to be tailored TO YOU.  Every time I tried to eat less and move more, I failed in two weeks, maybe less.  Why?  What makes it different this time?  I mean, this time I've lost 20 lbs, and I've been at it for about 10 weeks.  What was different this time?

1.) Support!  This was key for me.  Having a partner in the process was essential, but I needed this partner to literally share meals with me, work out alongside me, sleep next to me, like a constant reminder that we were in it together.  When one was running on low, the other was pumped up.  It's really helped me this time around.  I truly feel sorry for anyone trying to diet without the support of their partner.  I just couldn't do it.  I tried.  I failed.

2.) Prep ALL the meals!  Research shows that the pre-packaged, sent-to-your-door meals can work very well for some people trying to lose weight.  Takes the guess work out.  Well, I kind of did that for myself.  My boyfriend and I would cook all of our lunches for the week on Sunday, then dish it out for the rest of the week, truly controlling our caloric intake without much fussing and moaning.  Now, I know what you're thinking...

Calm down, Sweet Brown.  It's really a cinch once you get the hang of it.  Even on busy weekends, we found ways to make it work.  If we had to freeze something to make sure it would keep, no biggie.  I'm convinced this has been essential to our success.

3.) Eliminate the excess!  And I'm not talking just the food.  I'm talking everything.  I found I was wasting my time on pointless tasks (browsing the internet, mainly) that took away from EVERYTHING: workout time, meal prep time, clean-up time, boyfriend time.  I feel much less pressured and much more free than ever before.

4.) Take a break!  In a couple of different ways.  First of all, we were "off" for the weekend.  It was always nice to know there could be a day I could indulge, but sometimes we would negotiate a mid-week indulgence for a birthday or company function.  Being strict and unforgiving just never worked for me.  Sometimes I needed to take a break from daily weigh-ins (no, I don't want to hear you tell me daily weigh-ins are bad for me -- go away).  Sometimes I needed to give myself a break when the scale moved in the wrong direction.  Unlike the other times I tried to lose weight, though, all of the above helped me to get back in the saddle once my break was done.

5.) Hydrate -- I think.  In the last week, I've been drinking Sassy water.  Just google it.  Whether or not the ingredients actually help anything, it's nice to focus on my hydration in a new way.  The taste is something to get used to, but not horrible, and I've been feeling great this week despite being on my cycle.  More on this later as I see more consistent effects.

Anyway, this is what's been working for ME.  There has been a whole lot of trial-and-error leading up to this, but I think I've finally got it down.  Maybe I'll post my first before-and-after pictures.  Maybe.

That's Not Bad (For A Girl)

I happened to be chatting with my ex, just catching up.  He was the kind of guy who was religious about the gym and getting fit.  That was his jam.  I thought, hey, since we don't have much in common any more, maybe I'll mention to him that I'm squatting 120 for five sets of five and keep moving up.  He'll get that.  His response?  "Hey, 120 isn't bad for a girl. :D"

Um, excuse me?  I get that everything is relative, and I was talking to a gymrat, but really?  Not bad for a girl?  I don't even know many guys who hit the barbell like I do.  I'm sure I could kick much ass challenging guys to barbell exercises.  My thighs and glutes are looking amazing, and I feel strong and capable.  And that's not bad for anyone, girl or boy.

As far as weight loss goes, it appears I'm officially out of the easy weight loss... maybe.  All week I barely eeked down the scale, but today I weighed in three pounds less than my Monday weigh-in.  Yay!  I think my body wasn't very happy with me for restricting calories, so after a few days of going over, I wake up with weight loss!  Hopefully with focus and discipline I can have that or better for Monday weigh-in after a weekend of birthday celebrations.  Wish me luck!

Loss

It's been a while since I blogged, probably because every time I think about writing this entry, I feel like crying... and then I go play video games instead.  Paper Mario understands my problems like no other.

Sometimes, violence IS the answer... especially if you have an absurdly sized hammer.

Anyway, to get personal for a moment, my grandmother had been struggling with cancer in her lymph nodes for some time now.  The lymph nodes are where you DON'T want cancer to spread.  It STARTED there.  According to our family in Korea, she was in some pain and couldn't eat.  My mom said something about her not making it to the end of the year, and... well, she didn't.  She passed away in her sleep on the 29th, never fully understanding what was happening to her.  She was a tough cookie, and thought she'd be going back to work soon.  That's right, my tiny 80-year-old arthritic grandmother was still doing farm work.  Tough gal.

I was doing pretty okay with the loss.  I'd only met my grandmother once that I can remember, but it was tough to see my mom go through her grief.  She's just as tough if not tougher than her mother, and so it's always hard to see her vulnerable and hurting.  I used this tough time as an excuse to drop out of everything, including eating well and exercising.  I know the sympathetic among you will say, "It's not an excuse.  You lost someone.  Give yourself a break."  Yeah, maybe, but there's always an excuse.

On the bright side, I didn't really gain any weight (unless you count the half a pound since the last official weigh-in, though I had put that on during a mid-week weigh-in).  I'm back on track now: 229.5.  I still have urges and cravings running rampant over my eating plan, but I'm still trying.  I'm hoping for three pounds this week, and I'm willing to really work hard to get it.  I come from a line of tough old ladies.  It would be a shame to break the trend now.

Noh Boon-Ok