Editing My Life -- Buh-Bye Bread and other Resolutions

OK, confession time. 

I'd been playing with three or four pounds for several months now, flirting with Onederland (often in the 100s, but continuing to not be totally rid of the 200s which kept popping up on my scale.) It was discouraging to say the least. You don't go get half your stomach cut out not to keep losing weight and get to goal.

Blame it on traveling during the summer to a travel bloggers conference in Keystone, Colo., for about four days in June; 17 days in late June and July in Lagos, Nigeria, to help my husband repatriate (hooray he's back working in the States and really most of what there was to do there was just eat); Barcelona, Spain, for about 9-10 days in late July to visit darlin' daughter who was studying abroad — yes, more eating and drinking; and San Franscisco over the long Labor Day weekend  for hubby's and my fifth anniversary — loved the seafood and drinks in the Redwood Room at the Clift Hotel. Fun times, but watch out — they'll kill you.

We ate too much (well, maybe not too much, but not the right things.) We drank too much, which is something we gastric sleevers must watch like the majestic red-tailed hawks that are so prevalent in Oklahoma and Texas. Gotta swoop down and especially purge that.

When I got back from San Franscisco, I decided something needed to change. On the advice of my weight-loss physician, I'd stopped strength training about 15 months ago. And I'd never done quite as much as the recommended cardio.

So I found a new personal trainer and started working out a few weeks ago. And instead of my weight going down, it's been creeping up and about a week ago was back up to 203.4 pounds, which was still 70 pounds lost, but down from 78 pounds lost at my lowest point. I know some is muscle, but this has gotta stop and now.

I decided about a week ago to examine where I could make improvements and here they are:

• Cut out the alcohol, unless it's a really, really, REALLY special occasion. And then limit it and count it in my online tracker.

• Portion control on everything. If I bite it, write it; if I drink it, ink it. That's not an original saying by the way, but unfortunately I don't know where it came from or I'd attribute it. Let me know if you know.

• Buh-bye bread. I'd let bread and some other starches creep back up on my a little. Complex carbs have gotta go until I make goal.

• Move more, whether it's 30 minutes of walking the dog (dog likes that!) to hitting the stationary bike at the gym. Today's it's an hour of yoga, and doing a whole bunch of gardening tonight (which will make me happy when I drive up.) And I'm resolved to find more ways to move more in ways that make me happy and feel good. Maybe next week I'll buy one of those old Schwinn bicycles and a bike rack I've been coveting.

• I decided kitchen clutter and grime was a metaphor for sloppy eating. Looked up Flylady for inspiration and I scrubbed every inch of my kitchen this morning, throwing numerous out-of-date items out of the frig and washed all my frig shelves and crispers. I washed the fronts of cabinet doors and the tops of the countertops, relocating most of the clutter that had found it's way there. 

This morning, I edged back into Onederland thankfully. Now the goal is to hang onto it and keep making progress. I figure sometimes you just have to hit yourself in the head and say I'm not going back to the bad ol' days.

So that's it for now. I feel unstuck and moving again.

All encouragement is appreciated. You and I can do this and be healthier. 

Onward,
Carol

P.S. Here's my new ticker, with my back to Onederland weight on it:

Comparing Visits to Two Island Prisons, Two Years Later

At Alcatraz Island with San Francisco in the background, September 2012.

Two years ago in September 2010, almost to the day, hubby and I visited Robben Island in Table Bay off Cape Town, South Africa, where legendary SA President and Nobel Peace laureate Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 18 years (of his total 27-year imprisonment) along with many other political prisoners.

In spite of the shape I was in, I remember it as a fabulous vacation — one of the best ever — and thankfully, I didn't have to walk much. That was a good thing because of my much higher weight at the time. I'm guessing I was probably in the 250s and now I'm in the 190s.

At Robben Island, South Africa, September 2010

My husband snapped lots of pics of me in South Africa and one is to the right. I have no idea how much I weighed at the time, but believe it or not, I thought I was looking pretty good even if I was somewhat self-conscious and wanting him to shoot from the waist up only. I remember how bad my body felt at the time: sluggish, painful knees, painful feet, out-of-breath constantly. Not good. On two blood-pressure meds, one anti-inflammatory, one anti-depressant, size 24 jeans.

Last weekend, hubby and celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary in San Francisco. We did lots of walking, but what struck me was when I saw the picture taken from our tour of Alcatraz Island, where the country's worst criminals were kept.

When the Alcatraz pic was snapped, above, my muscles were sore from having walked up and down about 20 blocks of San Francisco's super steep hills the day before en route from the hotel to Fisherman's Wharf, but it was a different kind of sore. It was soreness from using my muscles in a new way going up and down the hills. A good kind of soreness.

I'm now off all my meds except for one blood pressure med and in size 14 jeans. I wasn't huffing and puffing up the walkways at Alcatraz, and didn't have to take the tram for elderly and/or disabled people to get to the top or down from "The Rock."

What a difference two years make. My journey toward better health has slowed down since my gastric sleeve surgery Dec. 27, 2011, but the progress continues.

Another notch in my belt, so to speak.

Onward,
Carol