Hot By Thirty

Okay so this might be long

Oh HI weight loss blog! You're still here. Huh.

See, I'm having a bit of Angst and haven't quite figured out how to put it into words. Which is really the only thing to do if you are 1) Angsty and 2) Have A Blog. But, you know, it's not like Not Making Sense has ever stopped me before, so here goes:

I don't know what to do next.

I lost the baby weight. Yay! As of today I am actually about two pounds UNDER my goal weight. I am not sure how THAT happened, seeing as how I have been somewhat less than dilligent about eating well and exercising, but I'm guessing the diet and exercise changes have become more habit than the exception. I am still avoiding sweets and white flour (to the best of my ability, it IS Girl Scout Cookie season) and I still treadmill and Shred (okay, not so much with the Shredding), but it's also true that I've lost about 99% of my motivation. I don't know what I'm working towards anymore.

I would like to lose more weight, but I don't know how much, and that bothers me.

Right now I am a Size 10. When I hit size 10 a couple years ago, pre-Jack, I was ELATED. I have never ever been thin. All through college and up until I decided I would try to lose weight I was a size 14. I might have been a 12 in high school, but I don't remember and wasn't paying attention anyway. When Jack was born I didn't have a single thing in my closet that fit me, and I cried in the Old Navy dressing room when I tried on a pair of size 16 shorts that barely fit. It took me 9 months to get back to a size 10; this time it took me about 5. All of my pre-pregnancy clothes fit me (well, the ones that don't require I stop breastfeeding first, ahem) and I have a giant tub of summer clothes I'll get to wear for the first time in two years. I am, for all intents and purposes, a pretty happy size 10.

But I wonder how much farther I could go.

I'm not sure I didn't try to lose more the first time around. I think I hit a plateau, plus I thought I looked great (for someone who had always been a size 14, mind you, not a former size 6 making peace with her size 10 self) and, I don't know, I was happy. Thinner didn't feel necessary.

Thinner still doesn't feel necessary, but it does feel possible. Why? Because I'm EXERCISING. I think I can pin all my wobbly ambivalency on exercising. The last time I was getting this much exercise was when I was a high school basketball player, and back then I was coming home from practice and cancelling out the hard work with PopTarts. (Tangent: Do you know how long it's been since I ate a PopTart? YEARS. Because I can, and I am not exaggerating, eat an ENTIRE BOX AT ONCE.)

Anyway! I am still running a few times a week (not so much with the shredding, maybe more on that later) and I feel like I can't HELP but lose more weight if I keep up the running. I mean, I am two pounds UNDER my goal weight and I'm still breastfeeding. If my previous experience is anything to go by (and it might not be, I understand that) I will lose more weight when I wean Molly, especially if I keep exercising. I could not shake my last 10 Jack pounds until I stopped breastfeeding him, and then it was easy. (Well, you know. RELATIVELY easy.) If I'm 2 pounds under my Molly weight and I haven't even stopped feeding her, you see how I might marvel at the possibilities.

I never once believed, not even while I was DOING IT, that I might be able to run a mile without stopping. Or two miles. And that one day I'd look at the lake by my house and think, "Yeah, maybe I'll be able to run around the lake by the summer." Am I kidding? ME? And I can't help but think, "What else is possible?"

I don't believe I will ever wear size 4 jeans. I don't believe I will ever run a marathon. (And seriously, you marathoners, ARE YOU INSANE?) I am very much okay with those things. But maybe I could be a size 8. Maybe I could run around the lake. And I feel like I should find out.

ON THE OTHER HAND.

I'm afraid. I'm happy being this size (although not as happy as I was the first time I was this size, simply because of the possibilities, pls see the above.) And I know how to maintain this size. I know which foods are okay for me, which ones aren't, which junk foods affect me more than others. I know I can run half an hour on the treadmill. These are things I can do. What if I push myself to lose more, run farther or longer, and I can't? Or worse, I CAN, but I can't maintain it, and I return to a size 10, only to be UNhappy? That would suck.

AND ALSO.

I don't want to get obsessed with my size or my goals. I've never been that kind of girl and I don't care to be. What if I decide my goal is to lose 10 more pounds, but 10 more pounds doesn't put me into Size 8 territory? Will I get fixated? Will I get down on myself? Will I decide 10 was good but 20 would be better? You should know that I'm almost laughing as I type this, because dude, TWENTY MORE POUNDS? Even if I WANTED to that doesn't sound possible! But I read so many weight loss blogs and posts and they all warn against obsessing about numbers, and I don't want to push myself into that zone. I don't want to be All Weight Loss All The Time.

Oh, and then to go back to my motivation crisis... It's weird knowing I still want to lose weight, but not knowing how much, which in turn creates a distinct lack of motivation. I stay away from trouble foods because I've worked too hard to gain the weight back. And I exercise because I can't bear to have to start all over again one day. (Which is why I think I've been running more than Shredding- even though I know I'll be sore when I do another Shred, I'm more proud of the running and would feel the loss of my accomplishment there much more. You: What about the loss of GRAMMAR? SHEESH.)

So, Exercise Mavens? How do you know when enough is enough? And what should be next short term goal be?

Triumph! With a side of cake!

I was a half pound under my Goal Weight on Friday. Then Valentine's Day happened (as noted, in chocolatey detail, below) and, uh, I'm a half pound over my goal weight today. I've decided that the official response to this is a big fat WHATEVER and doing a little jig ANYWAY because I lost the baby weight AND I ate my weight in Godiva and fancy cake and am only a half pound over! WIN WIN!

Like Charlotte said in response to the post below, a life without cake is a life not worth living.

(Especially THIS cake. OMG.)

So! Even though I am not yet Hot By Thirty I am WELL ON MY WAY and I seriously could not have done it without the crazy few who read this tripe. I know that's cheesy (mmm, cheese) but there were plenty of weeks when I refrained from eating something or forced myself to exercise because I was going to have to TELL YOU what I did. And I didn't want anyone thinking, "Dude, does she think getting hot by thirty is going to happen by MAGIC?" So really, would not have happened without you, and when you all come to visit I shall take you for a piece of cake.

Thank you.

I'm going to keep on keeping on, although my goal is a lot less defined. I'm not exactly sure what I'm working towards now, except for the fact that I am still a Chub and could definitely stand to lose a few. Also I really like having a place to geek out over my silly treadmill triumphs and to share my extremely non-academic thoughts on nutrition, a place that is not my mommy- and everything else- blog. You know? Hot By Thirty shall exist, at least until I turn thirty. And then we'll reevaluate. Again. YOU=ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEAT.

Kisses! (The chocolate kind!) I'm off to hose down the children.

IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT

Oh man you guys. I am screwed. SCREWED!

Okay, first, I lost the baby weight! Yay! Go me! I was a half pound UNDER my goal weight Friday morning. I gloated about it all day, fretted about how to properly congratulate myself, should I do THIS or should I do THAT?

And then we left Jack with my parents that night because today is VALENTINE'S DAY and we don't need much of an excuse to cut our parenting duties 50% for a day. We planned to go to brunch in the morning and, when my folks dropped Jack off, maybe they'd stick around and we'd go out again. To do what, we didn't know, but it's not like we ever turn down the chance to LEAVE THE HOUSE.

So we packed up the Bumbo seat and our Dining Out cash and headed to brunch. Where I was confronted with every mouth watering pastry known to man and REFUSED THEM ALL. Homemade cinnamon rolls! Homemade coffee cakes! A mimosa in every flavor! Poached pears in maple syrup? NUTELLA CREPES, people. I went out to breakfast and had the opportunity to order NUTELLA CREPES and I DID NOT ORDER THEM.

That was rough.

I made it through, we came home, we putzed around, and, for the most part, I stayed out of the kitchen. I put in a little time on the treadmill. Was very responsible.

Of course, Phillip bought me a box o' chocolate and even though it was a SMALL box it was a QUALITY box and I do not have the kind of willpower necessary to toss a quality box of GIFT chocolate into the garbage. So I ate a few.

We honestly and truly did not have plans tonight, but my parents were here and planned to stay for a bit and WHY NOT. Phillip was dying for sushi, and because I have turned him down every time he's wanted to eat sushi for the past five months, I decided not to be a Sushi Ogre on Valentine's Day. Besides, at the conveyor belt sushi place they have plenty of things that aren't attached to giant globs of rice. Off we went for sushi, where I ate my weight in tempura vegetables, but come on, those are VEGETABLES.

But next door? NEXT DOOR? Was an amazing cake shop that I had heard many things about. Oh so many glorious and tasty things. It's Valentine's Day, I told myself. We should at least SHARE a slice of cake, don't you think?

AND WE DID. And OH MAN YOU GUYS.

There were several different kinds of Death By Chocolate types of cakes, but I let Phillip pick, knowing that even if he chose the vanillaest of vanilla cake I wouldn't be disappointed. He opted for the Chocolate Raspberry cake- layers of chocolate cake in between layers of sweetened cream and raspberries, the whole thing covered in a dark ganache. And it was? TO DIE FOR.

Phillip kept looking around to see if anyone was staring at me enjoying my cake, so enthusiastic were my MMMs. I knew I was gaining half a pound with every bite, but I was too caught up in my chocolate ecstasy to really care. I am serious, people. Quite possibly the most fantastic piece of cake I have ever put in my mouth. And I have put a LOT of cake in my mouth.

We bought a piece to bring to the pastry student sister. And it was rather difficult not to tear through the wrapping and eat it on the way home.

And so... that Monday weigh in is not looking so good. I've been feeling guilty and down and irritated with myself. I work hard and one teeny (all right, gargantuan) slice of cake can undo everything. But finally I decided: WHATEVER. I totally hit my goal weight, even if it didn't fall on Official Weigh In Monday. I can't help that it's VALENTINE'S DAY when you are practically REQUIRED TO EAT CHOCOLATE. And it's not like I can't take off my cake weight like I took off baby weight. And you know, I haven't done half bad for a day that was throwing tempting delciousness at me every five minutes. Right? RIGHT?

I have all these thoughts re: Jen's post about diet and Bob's advice to the Brown Team on Biggest Loser, but I'm tired and falling into a sugary cake coma. So I'll just use that as a note to self.

I'll see you Monday, where, even if have gained ten cake pounds, I will still be wearing my new jeans. And reliving my memory of the cake. OMG SO GOOD.

A quick weigh in

I'm down half a pound this week. I'm disappointed, because it is going to take FOR FREAKING EVER to lose this last pound and a half, and I thought I did pretty well this week, especially the last half. But I weigh myself every day and I knew I'd be lucky if I didn't end up with a GAIN on Monday, so... I'll take it.

I'm sick today. I think that means I shouldn't exercise. Allow myself to recuperate and heal. Don't you think? Me too. Good plan.

My in-laws are coming up this afternoon and I am going to take the opportunity to buy myself a few necessary items of clothing at Target. I haven't hit my goal weight, but I have exactly three pairs of pants that don't sag unsightly-ish around my posterior and two of those are Old Work Pants. I can't wear Old Work Pants to the grocery store. Why do I even HAVE Old Work Pants? I thought I threw those out with the Purging of the Closet.

Anyway. There is your grumpy update.

Running brings out the cheese.

I just finished another two miles. (Oh, for those of you who don't follow me on Twitter, I ran two miles, without stopping, for the very first time in my entire life earlier this week. Twitter=shouting from rooftops/mountaintop/into everyone's ear whether they want to listen or not.) (Also, I am not really the type of person to shout as I have a very high Pride Threshold and oftentimes would rather die before admitting that I can't do one thing or another, but this took extreme exception.) (Also also, I try not to let my Pride Threshold get in the way over here. Anyway.)

So now I am sweating into my laptop (literally) because... actually I don't know anymore. I just need to think. My weight has been all over the map this week and I could either have gained two pounds by Monday or hit my goal weight and then some. I am shooting for my goal weight, obviously, and the two miles I ran today (and the two I plan to run tomorrow) better help.

Once I hit my goal weight (for it will be done) I will have lost these same 30-ish pounds three times. You know what that means? It means that the size I used to be is no longer My Size. I can't go around saying, "Oh, I lost some weight recently and now I'm New Size." Because it won't really be recently. It was that first time around, but now I've had two babies and worked myself back to New Size. I think New Size has become My Size.

And maybe that's why it doesn't feel all that special. Sure, I'm happy (and relieved, mostly relieved) that the weight came off. I really do think I have taught myself how to eat, which includes knowing that I could (and would very much like to) dive into a bowl of chocolate frosting at any time and watch all those pounds come back. I even think I am learning about exercise. That it's not necessarily the worst thing in the world and that I feel great when I finish, even if I am still the farthest thing from a Fitness Gal. (Was it Lindsay who called me that in the comments? THAT was funny.) But I don't have the Wow! I Feel So Different! thing that was a part of weight loss the first time. I guess that's another piece of evidence for the 'My Size' argument, eh?

Say I hit my goal weight on Monday. (Who knows. But let's say so. It's more fun that way.) The lowest weight I've ever been as an adult was five pounds below that. Five more measly pounds. I want to go at least that far.

And then... I don't know. Right now this is all about fitting back into my old clothes. Health is a big part- diabetes runs in my family, and I've got that side of the family's body type. But I'm not shooting to be a size four (if such a thing were even possible) (DOUBT IT) or run marathons or even half marathons. I don't have time for that. I know people who do, but I'd rather read or blog or go out to dinner, and I don't think that means my priorities are out of whack. I remember watching the last Biggest Loser and hearing those women talk about how many hours they spent in the gym, how many hours they spent away from their kids. And I know they were on a game show and competing for many thousands of dollars and that, truly, their lives were at stake. But there are a lot of things I'm not willing to give up for weight loss. I've given up about a half hour of nap time every day and I know that doesn't sound like very much, but I think the moms know THAT IS A LOT OF NAP TIME. So I feel like I can say, "Yeah, I DID find time for weight loss." Enough time.

I feel like I am giving some kind of valedictorian speech before I've even graduated. Okay. I'm off to take a shower. My parents are coming up this afternoon and I hope to God my kids are babysittable (I'M LOOKING AT YOU, MOLLY) so I can go out for a glass of wine with friends after dinner. Obviously I have no intention of giving up my wine.

Gloom

I am never going to lose these last two pounds. Ever.

(Perhaps my mysteriously rotten mood all week will account for not losing. Also the inescapable primal need for chocolate. And the kids not napping at the same time, meaning I can't exercise and can't recharge my mommy batteries, and OH GOD I AM REALLY TIRED.)

That's all.

I don't have any money to buy anything pretty anyway

I'm not very encouraged about my weigh in tomorrow. As of Friday I was UP one pound. I would like to blame the 30 Day Shred (muscle weighs more than fat!) but that seems kind of lame. I thought I did pretty well this week, too, giving up marionberry pie and doughnuts and brownies and the last loaf of pumpkin bread I thawed out for dinner guests.

Of course, I did just eat several handfuls of Ghirardelli bittersweet chocolate chips, which is my coping mechanism of choice. What did I need to cope with? Not being able to say I lost the baby weight in five months. Something's wrong in there...

Even if I didn't lose any weight this week, I am close enough to my pre-baby weight to fit into all my clothes. EXCEPT I'M NOT FITTING INTO MY OLD CLOTHES.

REASON ONE: I am still breastfeeding. And it appears I shall be breastfeeding for quite some time as my daughter will only accept a bottle on alternate Tuesdays in months beginning with the letter 'M' and 'J'. It's nice to know I can still lose weight while breastfeeding (which wasn't the case with Jack), but I must be losing it in different places. I'm one of those girls who can zip the dress up all the way except for the last couple inches, so it's not like this is anything new. But still. Kind of a bummer.

REASON TWO: Having two babies has irrevocably altered my shape. My butt did not used to be this big. I know it.

Anyway. Maybe that's why I don't feel all that triumphant about being this close, or at all content with this weight. Someone wanted to know if I intended to lose more, and I do. I have no idea how much as losing more means I will quite literally be a size I can't remember being. And that seems unreal, you know. Impossible. But I think I will keep doing what I've been doing, which is do my best to not gorge myself on sweets and do my thirty minutes of exercise a few times a week. I'll see what happens.

Oh, speaking of exercise: I've been alternating the 30DS with the treadmill. And that is alternated by days when my kids don't nap at the same time. If I can't get my thirty minutes in when they're both napping I don't do it at all. I don't have the energy or inclination to get it done when Phillip gets home from work or when they're both in bed at night. Sometimes I give myself a hard time about it, but mostly I focus on the fact that I am exercising AT ALL. Where did I read recently that you should plan to exercise every day and not feel guilty about the days that you don't? This made a lot of sense to me. Having, like, a Monday/Wednesday/Friday exercise schedule is, to me, a fast way to fail. Because if you don't do it on Monday you 1) feel guilty because you missed your Scheduled Day and 2) don't exercise again till Wednesday. For me it's easier to think I should try to do something every day, and then if it doesn't happen, there's always tomorrow. A perspective thing, I realize, and not everyone thinks that way.

ANYWAY. I'll weigh in tomorrow and let you know. You're all biting your fingernails, I'm sure.

***ETA: I'm down half a pound this week. Two pounds to go. (And five till I hit the weight on my driver's license!)***