Heavy Issues

Hope you all had a great Mother's Day. Mine was a let down compared to last year, when I actually got to spend it with my mom. These are things you take for granted living so far away. That and snow at the end of April. No, instead I spent Mother's Day sobbing and sniffling after dropping the kittens off at their next destination in life. They were spayed/neutered, de-fleaed, de-wormed, vaccinated and are now "adoptable", especially after I spent 12 days socializing (read: becoming extremely attached to) them. After a couple days recovery at the clinic, they will then be on display at PetSmart so the whole world can bear witness to their adorableness, and hopefully someone will smart enough to take one or both of them home. The only thing I didn't like about the particular group that took my kittens is what a clean break it was, simply dropping them off without knowing how they fared the procedures and I likely won't hear when they get adopted. I understand it is better and that people more used to fostering kittens are used to this, but the only other kittens I've taken in for more than a day now live with people I know or at least feel comfortable asking after.

But that's not what I chose to write about today. I decided to write about weight. You see, way back in another life when Dean and I were just starting to "get comfortable" (i.e. "let ourselves go a little") and I had to be put on antidepressants, the numbers on the scale started creeping up and up until the whole thing gave me such a complex I couldn't stand to watch anymore. But I couldn't stop eating eating either. I tried several times to lose weight the normal way, you know yo-yo dieting and overextending myself at the gym until I could no longer keep up that lifestyle.

Then I tried to go the more resigned, slow route of buying an exercise bike, and making proper dietary changes so that at least if I was going to be "plump" I would be healthy. Even riding the bike on a regular basis wasn't enough to lose the weight, but I think it stopped me from gaining any more. My frustration was so deep that it was actually a big reason I decided to go off the antidepressants because even my doctor confirmed that they were definitely impeding weight loss.

But no sooner had I gotten off the drugs than I spent the summer in Minnesota, where I vowed to walk around the lakes to shed the pounds. Unfortunately, Minnesota also has its fair share of excellent restaurants and food became even more a part of my social life and personal reward system than it is here. Not to mention that my dad and stepmom are phenomenal cooks who were more than happy to show off their culinary prowess while I was in town. Needless to say, I didn't lose any weight in Minnesota (if anything I packed on more) and I didn't even have the meds to blame.

Before Dean and I got together and before the medication, I never ever had weight issues. I've never been skinny, I've always had curves but the curves that got looks (and got Deano!) and I've always preferred to be voluptuous rather than stick-like. Unfortunately, its us curvaceous women who are often betrayed by our metabolism. That's why I felt like I had gotten slapped in the face when during my rounds at the doctor's offices in November I was told how extremely healthy I was, but that I could "stand to lose a little weight". Ouch.

After that when I was starting to think about writing my dissertation, I had a heart-to-heart with myself. The goal was "damage control", not gain any more weight before graduating. I thought it would be impossible to actually lose weight while writing my dissertation. I had less time to exercise and we'd in all likelihood be eating out a lot. The guidelines I made for myself:

(1) No excuses, get on the bike at least 5 times a week. I might not have as much time on my hands, but the mental clarity exercising brings is worth the time set aside to do so. Instead of the "breaks" that I would certainly allow myself while working from home, the mid-morning break was reserved for the bike. It became a routine for me to get up, drink a cup of coffee and work on my dissertation for two hours. Exercise for 30-35 minutes, shower, return to work. This actually made it a lot easier to look forward to getting on the bike (a "break" where I got to listen to podcasts for 30 minutes to clear my brain) and easier to return to work when finished.

(2) Since I was going to be eating out a lot, every meal had to still have a veggie, at the expense of one starch. I could still have a hamburger or chicken wings, but had to have a salad or steamed broccoli instead of fries. I did this more to keep my immune system strong. I don't even like french fries that much anymore.

(3) No more alcohol. Since I often worked late into the night, I drank iced tea with Splenda instead of beer or wine at restaurants. Once every few weeks I'd splurge and get tipsy at a ball game. But the "new tipsy" happened after far fewer beers than the "old tipsy". I was a cheaper date, too.

So the result? I was too scared to weigh myself when I started with this new plan. But after my pants felt a tad looser, I bit the bullet and tracked my progress for fun. I've lost somewhere between 20-25 pounds since November. I'm down two pants sizes and the great part is I've kept up my rules and have no intention of stopping. The only change I've made is to work out in the early morning because these days I actually go into the lab again. But possibly the best part is that Deano has watched me make these small changes, seen the results and about six weeks ago decided to make changes of his own. He has lost 15 pounds (I know, guys' ability to drop weight makes me sick as well) and is still satisfied with his eating and work out regimen. It's funny how when you stop thinking so hard about both weight AND food, the results start to show up. About a month ago I had lunch with a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a while. Her first comment was, "Wow, stress agrees with you." That's the upshot.