The count down to the end of this weight loss challenge has really begun. I have five more days to earn as much as possible for the Food Bank and the pledges are still coming in. I am a long way from $1,000 per pound so the only way to get to $50,000 is to lose as much as possible without doing anything insane like the previously discussed limb removal.
The last two weeks have been very successful, thus giving me hope to bring in the big bucks. That was before I got on the scale this morning. I know that no matter what I eat, even when I eat the exact same foods and amounts of food everyday it does not mean that I will decrease. What I really get furious about is how I can go up despite my best efforts.
Does not my scale know that I am working to feed hungry children? Why does my body decide it needs to retain something, I hope its water, right at this vital point? For true confessions, I did eat two corn chips yesterday. I looked the calorie count up on those and it was 15 calories at the most. That alone should not cause a weight gain of 1.2 pounds. Or should it? Has my body become so virginal that the slightest violation of its purity and it goes into full on whore.
Perhaps I am not praying enough for weight loss. Not that I would waste my prayers on that, there are many more important things that need some divine intervention. And my praying is not that inspirational, but perhaps yours is.
I ask that you pray in any way you do whether it is to a god or your dog, that the world becomes a better place, that those who are sick can feel some relief, those who are lonely can find a friend and those who watch TV can get a phone call right as all the political ads are running.
Paraphrasing the words of Evita, “Don’t pray for me, North Carolina.” But instead, watch me, watch me like a hawk. Don’t let a chip, or a cookie or a bite of coconut cake near my lips. Keep me busy, too busy for even water weight to build up in me. It’s just five more days, five more days to change the world, at least for one small hungry child.
There are lots of ways that I measure my progress in the weight loss journey; the scale is the obvious one, but the more obscure ways are so much more fun. In descending order of obvious ways here are some measurement tools that I have come across.
Following a very close second to the scale are clothes. How do my clothes fit and how many smaller sizes am I able to wear. Almost more importantly how many clothes should I not be wearing because they are just too big? There is nothing more comfortable than a pair of jeans that feel like pajamas because you swim in them. But having your clothes feel that great usually means they are too big to be worn outside of your house.
The worst thing for me is when losing weight I find an old beloved pair of pants in my closet that I have not been able to fit into for a while and put them on only to discover that I have missed my opportunity to wear them because I am smaller than those pants now. OK, that is not the worst thing, but with limited clothing choices I wish I had found those pants earlier.
Chairs with arms are another great barometer of skinny success. The other day I sat down in a chair and was unable to have both my elbows on the arms of the chair comfortably because they were too far apart. I found I had to put my purse in the seat next to me to rest my arm on. I can’t remember the last time I sat next to my purse in a chair.
Another pair of arms I use for measurement are those of my husband. It is wonderful to dance with him and have him be able to wrap his arms around me and dip me. Now if we could do something about rhythm.
Our king size bed is looking much larger these days. As I lie on my side writing this blog I can no longer reach out and pet our dog sleeping on the opposite corner.
My favorite new measurement marker is that I got in my car the other day and I could not really reach the steering wheel. I had to move the seat forward because I must have lost enough off the backside of me thus falling further away from the wheel.
I have to keep all these measuring apparatus in mind in case I start to go the other way. If I find I have to move the seat back there are no excuses that the washer shrunk my car. What goes down can go back up; even though that is not exactly the law of nature it certainly is the law of weight management.
When I was a kid we had the kind of bathroom scale most people had. It had a dial of numbers and a little black line in the window. When you stood on it the number circle would spin to the right and then sometimes swing back to the left a little until it settled on the final tally. Sometimes you could switch your stance and make the dial back down a pound or two.
The other feature of this scale was the adjustment dial. It was a little finger wheel you could roll to make sure that the black line was right on zero before you stood on the scale. Although I know this was to help make sure it was accurate, it also caused some doubt in my mind as to the validity of its measuring capability. My thinking went, if I have to tell the scale where zero is, then how can I be certain it is telling me exactly what I weigh. A built in excuse.
There was one thing about our family’s childhood scale which I am certain was unique to ours. Written in red nail polish, right on the dial above the numbers was the number 115 in one inch digits. This was the number my mother was always looking for.
I have a very skinny mother and I think that the 115 written right on the scale was an excellent reminder of what her goal was. I think that now, but as a younger person I could not imagine how she could not remember what the goal was without having it flash red at her everyday.
This morning at 2:00 AM my thirteen year-old daughter called me from Vancouver. She was two legs down on a four-leg trip home from Taiwan and I had not talked with her for the last three weeks while she was away at Chinese school living with a family I do not know. Normally I am not happy to be awoken from my sleep at any hour, but last night I was thrilled.
After talking for 20 minutes she had to get on her next flight leaving me home wide awake, so excited thinking about seeing her today. Since I was up I did my normal morning routine. I got on the scale as I do everyday. My scale today is so much more reliable than the one of my childhood. Giving my weight down to the tenth of a pound with no ability for me to adjust it either by finger wheel or shifting stance.
As I stood on the scale I was horrified that I was up a pound and a half. But was I? What exactly was yesterday’s number? It was not written in red nail polish on the scale for comparison purposes.
I decided I should force myself to go back to sleep since I had twelve hours to kill until we got to go to the airport. Sleep worked to pass the time and shed the pounds my body was using to keep me alive through the night. When I awoke at a more reasonable time this morning I went back to the scale. The same number as the morning before. Not down, as I would like it to be, but not up.
For me I know that I don’t lose weight evenly. I can go a week of good eating and exercise and not lose a pound, but then the next week lose 4 on the same regimen. Oh the joys of hormones.
What I do know is that weighing myself everyday is important for me. You would think I could have learned that earlier from my mother. The scale is the only true way to know how I am doing. Clothes stretch upon wearing and shrink upon washing, husbands who love you are not good recognizers of your actual weight, great friends are good liars, only your scale will tell you the truth.