Do-Over!

No, I haven't given up. I have not been defeated by the natural tendencies of my blubbery belly.  I just took a hiatus for the rest of the summer.  When you (few remaining readers) last perused this wannabe blog, I was in the midst of a high-pressure semester in Logan.  Now I am back teaching and grading and supposedly writing, and life is great, right? Nope.

At least, not in the weight department, that is.

I took the rest of the summer off, and I'm paying for it.  I won't bore you with all the scrumptious indulgences which now cluster around my middle.  Just believe me when I say they were amazing.  (I'm drooling just thinking about Robert's ribs and Tammy's seafood slaw.  That grilled pork loin, too--I wonder if I can ever replicate that marinade.)

When school started (August 21) I called for a do-over.  Not because I was assigned playground duty or anything, but I am going to start over.  My weight on said date had ballooned back up to 291.2 pounds--higher than it had been in over a year.

Since then I've gone back to my oatmeal most mornings.  I've cut carbonation again.  I'm eating more fruits and veggies.  And I've almost eliminated those late night grazings.  I don't know what my weight is now, as I'm writing far from my scale, but I am resolved to be better, to weigh less.

As soon as I pass this @#$% stats test, my life will be less stressful as well.  So, until then, it's one little step at a time.


So, yeah.  "Do-over!"

P.S.  I tried posting this earlier, but for some reason my iPad didn't want me to publish anything.  Grrr!

A Rat's Point of View

As a result of overeating, Templeton grew bigger and fatter than any rat you ever saw...the old sheep spoke to him about size one day.

 "You would live longer," said the old sheep, "if you ate less."

"Who wants to live forever?" sneered the rat. "I'm naturally a heavy eater and I get untold satisfaction from the pleasures of the feast."

Templeton at the Chuck-a-rama!

 
Apparently I've taken a page out of old Templeton's book as of late.  However, I must say in my defense, that over the 4th of July celebrations and birthdays and family reunions this past week, I did not overeat...despite the veritable smorgasbord available to me and my cravings. I think that i have managed to control most of my overeating habits.  For example, when we had a friendly slopping at Chuck-a-rama, I neither instituted nor followed the previous standard of a four-plate minimum.  In fact, I only had three small plates (and dessert, of course).

There is something quite enjoyable about savoring the pleasures of the feast.  I've heard in the somewhat-recent past that you can tell quite a bit about a person or a family by the comments made after a meal.  There's a difference between asking if you got enough of your meal as opposed to whether you enjoyed your meal (or not).

Lately I've taken to playing the "what could improve this" game whenever I eat.  Sometimes I do it aloud (and annoy people, especially if I'm in a restaurant), and sometimes I do it by myself.  This is easiest as no one else usually likes to play.  Some items like McDonald's chicken "nuggets" are easy to play with because there are so many right answers.  Whereas other items like the baked beans I made for the 4th were hard to crack.  The answer that I came up with, though was more bacon.  (That usually works.)

Week 2 in Logan

So I've eaten oatmeal for breakfast every morning.  Good for me.  That is until yesterday when we went out for Indian food at the Tandoori Oven, which I very highly recommend to anyone, even you haters who say you don't like Indian food.  And, of course, we had to make the weekly pilgrimage to get ice cream.  This week's choices were lemon custard and Aggie Bull Tracks.  In case I didn't mention it, last week's were Aggie blue mint and midnight munchies.

The tortilla espanola I made tonight with pimiento and bacon didn't do anything to help.  I even had some decent chorizo and green olives to accompany it.  For those who want the recipe (or lessons on how to do it right) let me know; we can work something out.  You provide the ingredients and I'll show you how.

On another good note, my knee is finally starting to feel better, so I might be able to do more than walk to and from class.  All in all, not bad, but not good either.

I'll have leftover tortilla for breakfast tomorrow.  Sorry, oatmeal.  You lose.  I'll see you next Monday.

Now That's Sacrifice!

Today I took one for the team (not Jacob or Edward) when after sitting in 7 hours of class, I only at 1 1/2 steak sandwiches and shared the rest of my yummy meaty cheesy pepper-and-oniony goodness with the other guys who were in my condo (read "dorm").  And I've been eating oatmeal and fruit for breakfast all week.  Sacrifice or stupidity?

Short Update

So, it's been a few weeks, and I've made some changes.  Well, all I'm doing is (a) trying not to eat so much and (b) keeping track of some of my fitness efforts including jumping jacks, sit-ups, and push-ups.  I also decided to track my spiritual fitness: I record my scripture reading--not for personal glory, but just to keep me on track.  It's been working.  Oh, yeah.  I was down to 284 before I came up to Logan.  I haven't found a scale up here yet.

Starting Over

289.  That's what it said last night.
286.8 is what it read this morning.  It's amazing how much weight you lose while you sleep.  Oh...because I'm not eating!

So this morning I successfully did 22 minutes on the Wii Fit, finished my sit-ups, push-ups, and jumping jacks, read my scriptures (I'm including spiritual health this time around), and ate my oatmeal (plain-gag) before the kids were up.  Not bad.

At the grocery store I bought a bunch of healthy rabbit food and geek, I mean Greek yogurt.  I passed on a Sprite at dinner.  I ate a green pepper for my snack this evening.

I'm determined.  I'm even going to make charts for the kids (at their request) tomorrow.

Each day I'll record the stuff I mentioned above in order to better track my progress.  However, the Wii part isn't going to be solid.  It's going to be a blank category where I record something "extra" that I've done.  Another example is that I'm going to try and take all five kids hiking up the canyon (yes, by myself).  Insane? Of course.  Worth it?  I'll let you know.

By the way, I could do with an "attaboy" every ow and again, too.  Thanks.

Blubber--The Backstory

This is a post about a whale. No!

This is a post about getting skinny. No!

This is a post about me; it's about the story behind the title of this blog, which I so pathetically left to rot for over a month.  And if you think that because I abandoned posting since April it's because I was too embarrassed to write how I wasn't keeping up on my plans, you might be right.  Then again, you're not entirely correct.  But I digress.

When I was ten or eleven, I checked out Judy Blume's Blubber from the base library.  I don't entirely remember what it was about except that a group of girls makes fun of a classmate for being a little overweight, one stands up and ends up ostracized--typical upper elementary bullying-type-stuff.  The picture I've posted might not even be the right one.  I think the one I read had been mutilated and replaced by one of those generic '70s-looking library hard covers that nobody (except book geeks like me) checks out.

 But rambling on, I don't know if it was that or the fact that we had just discovered that one of our favorites types of gum (Felix the Cat) we could purchase off the base in Japan was made from whale blubber.  Whatever it was, my younger brothers started a new tactic of getting under my skin.  I had grown a little pudgier of late.  When fighting, as loving brothers always do, they would stay out of smashing distance, and duck in under my blows, poke me in the stomach and go "blub." It was just irritating at first, but then they started doing it constantly, jumping from around corners to poke the whale.  What made it worse in my ten/eleven-year-old eyes, was that they were hired to be models and I was left out.  I think I started to develop an identity complex.  Don't worry.  I wasn't scarred for life--I don't need extensive therapy or anything.  I just grew up (and out) and came to terms with my massiveness.

Now, I know they didn't mean to cause so much damage, but looking back, I think it did.  And I hesitate to post this, knowing that they might read it.  However, I'm good.  It made me stronger.  And besides, I can still smash them whenever I feel like it.  They are two of my best friends today.  Funny how that works out.  I'm not even going to start to go into all the psychological damage I must have done to them.  I'll save that for later.  The funny thing was, I wasn't even all that big then.  I graduated high school at about 175 or 180 lbs.

Most of the time now, I'm the one who starts in on the fat jokes.  When I went on my mission to Spain, I was self-dubbed one of the Fat Boys (shout out to Eric).  I took pride in my food and my ability to consume and produce mass quantities (with exceptional quality).   When I returned, I weighed in at 230.  It wasn't until after I got married that I ballooned to 270+.  And, no, it's not Amy's fault either.

Honestly, I think most of it is genetic.  I take after my dad's side of the family, sized XXL.  There is a history of health problems which I won't expound upon here.  Lucky me; I've probably inherited all of them.  But here's the clincher--nothing that I can prevent is going to lick me.  Sometimes I get discouraged being the biggest and the strongest (and the slowest and the roundest).  And sometimes I epically fail in my attempts to lose weight and get back into shape.  But I'm gonna keep getting back up until I make a breakthrough.

After the kids finally fall asleep tonight, I'm going to weigh in again and start from scratch.  I'm restarting some exercise, restarting healthier eating, and stop stressing so much about crap I can't control.  Oh, yeah.  I'll post more often, too.

Guess which one of those last statements is the lie.

Watch out world, the whale is going to start shrinking!  He's angry...no..just cranky from bacon withdrawal.