Déjà vu all over again.

     Did you ever run into someone who hasn’t seen you for a couple of months and they’ll say, “Wow, it’s been a while! You look… good. How’s everything been?” You know you could pass for a manatee, but you’re also aware they are trying not to hurt your feelings so you smile, say thanks, and move on with the conversation. It’s not what they’ve said, it’s how they’ve said it. That ever so slight pause they take as their brain frantically tries to retrieve an adjective that’s pleasantly neutral on one hand and the complete opposite of what they’re really thinking on the other. (Little white lies: social lubricant or unnecessary deception? Discuss.) I have found myself on the sad end of this conversation a couple of times recently.     

The Definition of Insanity

     Albert Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. (Hmmm...)

Big Girls Don't Cry.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

     Last time I talked about how I kind of messed up but was going to square my shoulders and move forward, blahbitty blahbitty blah. And I tried to, I really did. But is the scale cooperating? No. No, it is not. I am stuck at a sixteen lb. loss (better than a sharp stick in the eye, but still – stuck is stuck.) The loss is 16 lbs. one day, 15 another day, 15.5 yet another. But never, ever is it sixteen and one half. Or, if you you’d like to get fancy, it's never 7.5 kg or 1 stone 2, either. My scale could be messing with me just for fun, but it’s more likely that I’ve hit the dreaded PLATEAU! And boy, howdy! This isn’t just any plateau, this is the flatlands. This is freaking South Dakota! (Disclaimer: I’ve never actually been to South Dakota, but I have been led to believe that it is flat, flat, flat. Rather like my weight loss at this point.)

     So I think it’s back to square one, my friends. Weepy I shall not get, and forge ahead I must (Yoda, is that you?). As one of my idols, Newt Gingrich, *snicker* has said, “Perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.” Well said, there Newt, well said.

     Plateaus suck, but there's not a lot you can do other than ride them out, rather like power outages or presidential election cycles. Increasing exercise (Boo hiss!) and, as counterintuitive as it may sound, sometimes increasing caloric intake helps (It says so here). Boosts the old metabolism & all that. My plan is to start with the exercise angle and if that doesn’t work, boost the calories a bit. I’m holding off on increasing calories because it scares me. I’m doing around 1200 calories a day. More than that seems unnecessary, but who knows?

     While I ponder my next move, this could be a tasty and not too terrible way to increase calories and not go overboard (Besides, it's pie. What’s not to love?):

Yogurt Pie (8 servings)

2 containers lite, fat-free yogurt, any flavor (lemon or lime are particularly nice in summer)

1 8-oz container lite non-dairy whipped topping

1 pre-made low-fat graham cracker pie crust

Fold yogurt and whipped topping together until thoroughly combined. Pour into pie crust.

Freeze for about 4 hours.

If adding any fruit be sure it’s cut into fairly small pieces. 

Per serving: 183 calories, 28g carb, 7g fat, 2g protein

That'll Learn Ya

     Remember long, long ago (about a week) when I said we’d discuss the concept “burn more calories than you consume”? Yeah, about that… I’m thinking that will have to wait a wee bit longer. This week I think we’ll chat a little about falling down.

     I bet you’re thinking, “uh oh.” Uh oh is exactly right. The scale has gone in the wrong direction this week. Am I discouraged? Yes I am, a bit. Am I surprised? Sadly, no I am not. I have let a few things slide over the last ten days or so. For someone like me, a person who seems able to gain weight merely by being within shouting distance of a bakery (I think I attract cinnamon bun fat molecules like a magnet), letting things slide is a dangerous thing to do.

Here’s what I didn’t do this week:

1. I did not track my food intake. My nifty shnifty phone doo dad sits idle.
2.  I did not “eat smaller”. In fact, I baked cookies and ate um… a lot of them.
3.  I did not merely skimp on exercise; I did not go to the gym for a solid five days.
4. I did not weigh in daily. 

     Yikes, right? I didn’t just stumble there; I fell flat on my face! By not doing all the things I know I need to do, I’ve managed to lose ground. I’ve let myself down. But focusing on mistakes or giving up because of them is, in the grand scheme of things, kind of silly. No one has died. The world hasn’t ended in a fiery ball of flame. All that has happened is that I have messed up a smidge. And you know what? That is ok. Life goes on.

     So now I will open up my phone app, log in today’s weight, and today’s meals. Tonight I will go to bed at a reasonable hour, set the alarm for an unreasonable hour, get up early, walk the dog, and then get my ample backside down to the gym. And away we go!

How about you? How do you handle it if you fall off the wagon?

Kate's Wild World of Dieting

     People of a “certain age” may remember Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom with Marlon Perkins or The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau. I do not have a burly assistant named Jim who wrestles alligators, nor do I have a French accent, but welcome to The Wild World of Dieting with Kate Hayes anyway.

     Over the years it seems as though I have been on a mission to personally attempt the greatest number of weight loss schemes possible. I have done Weight Watchers (three time drop out), Jenny Craig, NutriSystem, and a couple of other expensive programs whose names I can’t even remember, but one of which replaced two meals a day with a virtually inedible pudding. I have used Slim Fast and a Chinese herbal tea that kept me chained to the bathroom for two days (TMI, sorry). I have tried the Atkins, South Beach, Cabbage Soup and Starvation diets. I have tried low fat, no fat, high protein/low carb. Nothing ever seems to stick. Full disclosure: I once worked for NutriSystem, which is sad. I was even part of a study at OSU involving fat gals over 40 that handed out some nice swag. I haven’t tried hypnotism or voodoo, but the jury’s still out on this, my latest and certainly most public attempt.

     Jeez, you must be wondering, what the hell is wrong with you? You must have figured something along the way. Well, I have. Almost every legit program has you keep a food journal. The idea is to log everything that you eat, what time of day, and sometimes emotions to see if there are pitfalls there that are hindering success. My problem here is follow-through. I’m good for about three or four days, then poof! I’m done. Typically what happens is on Day One I drag out my food scale (purchased during one of my Weight Watcher’s attempts) and measuring cups and spoons. I record everything faithfully, right down to the spray of Pam in the pan and the exact number of almonds in the afternoon snack. Additionally, all snacks are recorded and logged at the appropriate time. Day Two, I’m still weighing but not necessarily measuring, and I’m not as precise in my recording. The ½ & ½ going into the coffee is recorded, but the amount is eyeballed. The snacks are all lumped together at the end of the day. By Day Three I’m writing down the foods but not necessarily the amounts. By Day Four, I’ll usually only record as far as lunch. There never is a Day Five. But many people find that journals really are useful. Luckily in these days of smartphones, there’s an app for that! A quick peek at the app store on my phone shows a couple dozen free journals. One I particularly like is My Fitness Pal. It has graphs, charts, goal setting, and nifty doodads such as a bar scanner. So instead of tediously writing out each and every food, you can scan the bar code on the label and voilà! The app figures out all the calories, etc. That’s pretty handy for a lazy butt like me, I'm never without my phone, and I'm finding it much easier to keep track (made it past day five, at any rate). 

     Something else I’ve learned is that conflicting and confusing information about diet and health abound. Guidelines change as new research comes to light, so it’s kind of hard to know what’s what. The US Department of Agriculture, for instance, urges us all to eat healthfully, and they issue guidelines as to how we should do that. But those guidelines change periodically in accordance with what the newest science reveals about nutrition. Remember the Four Basic Food Groups? (or the Basic 7 if you go back that far) More recently we have had the Food Pyramid, then the new Food Pyramid, and now we have MyPlate (http://www.choosemyplate.gov/), an easier graphic to understand. Even within various paid plans there can be misunderstanding. Weight Watchers®, for instance, has a great thing going with their Points Plus™ program. It works for lots of people. But if Joe Schmoe chooses to spend all his points on Peanut M&M’s just because he can, then even Weight Watchers® becomes a diet bust for this guy, who is clearly an idiot who’s missing the point (no pun intended).

     One thing that has been a consistent road block for me is portion control. I don’t think that most people have a clue as to what correct portion sizes look like. When you read about portion control, you are told that a serving of protein is about the size of a deck of cards and a serving of fruit should be the size of a tennis ball, among other things. I know that’s supposed to give you an everyday reference, but I don’t find it to be particularly helpful. Adding to the confusion is how portions and sizes are named, which can be misleading. An order of small fries at a fast food joint today was considered a large back in the day. They didn’t have what we consider to be large or (yikes), super-sized. Even the average dinner plate is larger today than in the past. I read somewhere once that they are 30% larger than they were 30 or 40 years ago (Honest to goodness actual science-guy info here.) Many of us are loyal members of the Clean Plate Club and our eyes, rather than our stomachs, tell us when we’re full (more fun with science!); we are easily consuming much more than we should every day. Even if we’re eating healthfully, too much of a good thing is still too much. One of the learning tools the researchers in the study at OSU used were realistic-looking and appropriately portion-sized food shapes (finely crafted in a polymer resin). It was surprising even to me, a food weighing and measuring veteran, what actual portion sizes looked like. They seemed so teeny! Have you ever measured out a cup of spaghetti?  It’s easy to see why knowing how much to eat in one sitting is such a sticking point with people.

     So what I’ve taken away from my many, many attempts to lose weight lo, these many decades, boils down to a few simple-sounding concepts. Be aware of what and how much you're actually eating. Write it down. Use paper and pen, a phone app, whatever, but you might be surprised at how many pretzels you're absent-mindedly scarfing down at your desk during the day. Educate yourself about proper nutrition. How much does a person of your age, height, weight and gender need to eat? What kinds of foods should you be eating for optimal health and weight loss? Finally, size matters. Keep an eye on the size of the portions you eat. What you think of as one serving may actually be two (Think about your average bagel. It can easily be two or more servings.) 

     I am not following any particular plan these days. I eat pretty much when I’m hungry and I’m eating healthfully but I’m also eating less and I’m eating smaller. Portion control! If I want a treat at the end of the day, I have a treat. But it’s one cookie instead of three or a kid’s cone rather than a regular. I'm also tracking it to make sure I'm getting all the vitamins, etc. that I need. Will the same thing work for you? I don’t know. It’s really still a work in progress for me. Cooking for the family, for example, presents a big challenge – I tend to nibble while I cook. But about 16 lbs. are gone so far, so something is going right.

      Next time we'll discuss something even more basic: burn more calories than you consume. While we ponder that, I will leave you with this story arc from one of my all-time favorite comic strips, Bloom County, by Berke Breathed.

Tightrope Walking

     Well, I’m back. My brain apparently took a vacation, went to the circus, and has remained there all summer. For a while there I thought it had run away for good, and all I could think about was The Big Top. I had a whole circus-themed blog piece going, but it was just too over the top. So I had to start from scratch, which is not easy when your brain is still at the circus and it’s hot, and you’re not at the beach, and all the neighbors are on vacation, and the bathroom needs to be cleaned, and you hate cleaning bathrooms… (I did say there’d be whining. You were warned.) I’m still sort of in love with the original circus concept though, (In particular the Illustrious Illusionist, the Astonishing, Enigmatic, Illogical, Obfuscating, and Underhanded Obstructo Vitare.)

     Trying to become a more compact version of one’s self really is a sort of circus high-wire act, I think. In these terms I see a shiny, spangled performer on a tight rope, many, many, many feet in the air, no net in sight. They might be doing this while riding a unicycle and juggling several bowling pins. The pins may be labeled “family”, “work”, “social situations”, “emotions”, “hormones” or “whatever”. A wobble to either side would be the end of the performance, with the Tightrope Walker plummeting into a pit of self-pity, doubt, disappointment, pointy rocks, spiders and Lean Cuisine.

     It’s pretty clear that in order to get from one end of the wire to the other, a few things are necessary. Finding balance is one. We start out on platform A and our goal is to get to platform B without falling or dropping any of the bowling pins. In order to reach the other side successfully it is essential that we keep our balance which is, of course, much easier to say than it is to do. We want to lose weight but we also want to eat blueberry pie and we don’t have time to exercise and we have families and jobs and dogs and bad knees and gardens and tons of excuses obligations that get in the way.

     Finding and maintaining balance is easier when we have encouragement, another important aspect of our tightrope act. A couple of Lovely Assistants on the platforms at either end can help the whole process appear seamless. One gently pushes you at the start to give you a little momentum, the other steadies the unicycle while you dismount, and they both cheer for you from start to finish. If you freeze up in the middle, start wobbling or look as though you may fall, the Lovely Assistants will shout encouragement from either end to keep you going. Family and friends are almost always our most loyal and vocal Lovelies. Our families help us stay on track, sometimes by abstaining from Chunky Monkey ice cream for a while just so we won’t be tempted. Our friends tell us that our hard work is paying off. A spouse may toss out the random “you look really good” which just might make us rethink the fried macaroni and cheese appetizer.

     While encouragement is important, it isn’t quite enough to help us achieve the original goal, which was to get from Platform A to Platform B with the bowling pins still spinning and a person still on the unicycle. We need support to do that. If we install guide wires or use a harness we’re likely to feel more secure, which gives us the confidence necessary to successfully cross from A to B. We worry less about falling (or failing), and concentrate more on the process. Sometimes we just need someone else to catch the pins so we can keep our balance. Support can come from different areas. It can be a professional organization like Weight Watchers, a television show website with an online community, or a neighborhood moms’ group. But support doesn’t have to be anything formal or pre-arranged. It can be as simple as a daughter taking over the occasional morning dog-walk freeing up gym time for dad or a husband who gets up early for a power walk with his wife. Maybe a son cooks dinner a couple nights a week while mom goes for a run or the neighbor serves only low-fat munchies at their next cocktail party. It all helps.

     So, you may wonder, just what does this all mean? Do you want to join a circus and wear sequins, Kate? (um… no. Sequins are not flattering.) As we are all aware, it can take a lot of oomph for anyone to attempt a diet and exercise program in the first place. In order for any program to be successful, a person needs to create balance between their quest for fitness and everything else in their universe. And to do that, encouragement and support are needed from family and friends. Rocket science it ain’t. Next time, boys and girls, perhaps we will visit the carnival fun house and have a look at those magic mirrors!

     Incidentally, my current weight loss is somewhere between thirteen and fifteen lbs. Weight loss can vary by day, barometric pressure, or pastrami Reuben consumption.

Speed bumps, stumbling blocks and a Greek Chorus

"Boy Blubber! What the heck is that rolling around back there?"

"What do you mean, Fatman? I don’t hear anything."

"There’s a thing, rolling back and forth and making a bunch of noise. There it is again! You don’t hear it? It’s annoying as hell! Wait; did Thunder Thigh Woman leave her stupid magic maracas in the Fatmobile when we went to see “The Avengers” the other night? That’s what I keep hearing: maracas or something rolling around under the seat. Why she feels compelled to bring them everywhere is a mystery. Magic maracas. She shakes them and bullets bounce off? That’s what she says. Pffffttt. I’ve never even seen her use them. Next time, either she leaves them home or she goes solo in that ridiculous thing she drives and meets us there. What is it, again? An invisible Prius? How the hell does anyone fight crime in a Prius? Sure, they’re quiet, so they’re stealthy, but they don’t go faster than what, 65 miles an hour? That’s just not practical. Besides, it takes her like a half hour to heave herself out of the thing. She really ought to look into something a little bigger. Or get a magic shoe horn. Now that would be practical."

"Uh, Fatman? Are you talking to yourself again?"

THUMPTHUMP!

"Jeez, Boy Blubber! Are you aiming for pot holes?!"

"Sorry, Fatman. I was focusing on non-existent maracas."

"Well, at least they’ve stopped making that noise. Maybe they got stuck under the seat or something."

THUMPTHUMP!

"Jayzusmaryanjoseph, Boy Blubber! I’m going to have to take the Fatmobile in to the mechanic for a check-up at this rate! And dammit – the maracas are making crazy noise again!"

"Oops. My bad. Speed bumps. I'm telling you, there is NOTHING rattling, Fatman! Did you take your meds today?"

"Shut up, Boy Blubber."

I have heard that within each of us there resides a small, still voice. This little voice, I am told, helps us distinguish right from wrong, supplies us with the self-assurance to face any situation with confidence, and prods us with “gut feelings” to determine whether we should welcome that knock at the door as a wonderful opportunity or slam the door in the face of a total loser.

Yes. I have heard tell of such a thing. However when those little voices were handed out, I must have been in line at the Good Humor truck. In MY head, instead of a Helpful Heloise of Happy, there is a noisy bunch of whackos that ought to be evicted. There is an annoying Greek chorus of naysayers always at the ready to criticize, critique, belittle, and question. They are the polar opposite of supportive. If there is a small, still voice in there, it’s been bound, gagged and locked in a closet. My voices, while not of the Son of Sam variety, still manage to out-shout most positive thoughts that might come my way. I’m not bat-shit crazy, but I am weird enough to talk aloud to myself pretty frequently. It’s probably not normal, but it does make it easier for me to organize my thoughts. (Never fear, the conversations are usually all one-sided.)

“The more faithfully you listen to the voices within you, the better you will hear what’s sounding outside.” Dag Hammarskjold, Swedish diplomat, economist, author, and clearly someone who had never met me.

Really, Dag? That’s not very comforting, I must say.

The voices in my head have been particularly vocal lately. I embarked on this very public – albeit not widely read – project with the idea that holding myself accountable to others would provide a little extra incentive to achieve a goal I’ve been unable to reach on my own for quite some time. The voices did not think this was a very good idea from the start. “It won’t work”, they said. “You’ll embarrass yourself”, they warned. “You’re an idiot”, they admonished.

As of last week I’d been so frustrated with my lack of progress that at times I just wanted to tear out my hair. Or cry. Or give up entirely, something I would have done in the past. I’d been doing all the things I should. I’d even been exercising. No Zumba, but in addition to dog walking and evening track strolls, I added a few miles of very brisk walking just about every day and even added a few micrometers of running into the mix. Anyone who knows me has heard me say that I’d never run. Ever. Unless being chased by aliens. Aliens shooting at me with ray guns. Even with all this effort, I’d only lost about four pounds. In my ideal world, at this point in the process I’d have lost fourteen pounds. I was secretly hoping I’d lose ten. In reality I expected that I would have lost at least seven pounds. Four was disappointing to say the least.

Enter Dr. Ward, my chubby, German PCP. I love her, even though she always says to me, “Meesez Hess. You heff gained too much weight und I do not like your blood pressure.” That makes two of us, Dr. Ward. I have a thyroid thing, which has been controlled by meds for the last sixteen years. Because of this, I am supposed have blood drawn every six months, but I tend to put it off, being beyond blood and needle-phobic. This time I managed to avoid the lab for about ten months, which turned out to be a bad move as it seems my thyroid has morphed into a slug. This explains my lack of progress. New meds, and Dr. Ward wants to see me in six weeks. “Und you will heff lost some weight by then, yah?” One cannot ignore an edict from the elf.

So, I’ve encountered a stumbling block. Yes, it’s certainly a set-back and progress will be slower, but that doesn’t mean I should quit. While the Greek chorus in my head rarely takes a day off (“So and so does it better.” “This house is a mess!” “We don't think you have the skill set for that.”), at least as far as this project is concerned they can go roll around in the back of the car and I’ll  just ignore them. Annoying bunch of freaks.