Yesterday, I dropped the 3rd shake from my meal plan. I’m now eating (drinking) two protein shakes a day, eating one meal that is 4-5 oz. of lean protein and 3-4 servings of non-starchy vegetables, having one protein snack of either a piece of cheese or a hard cooked egg, and now, new yesterday, a 7 oz. container of Greek yogurt. With a little bit of very local honey, or perhaps some walnuts.
Ye gods, that yogurt was amazing yesterday. I cannot wait for more today!
I noticed that I have a half-empty 12-pack of Diet Coke sitting out on a shelf in our kitchen. I’ve not had one since June, and the box and top cans are actually dusty. I’m really proud that I’ve managed to stay off that crack for this long.
I’d made plans to walk with a friend, but found myself out running errands at the appointed time. This turned out to be fine, as she had something else come up, so we made a tentative plan to either walk or go for drinks later in the day. I was sitting around waiting to hear from her when I realized that I only had 2 more hours in which I could use the gym.
The old me would’ve skipped the gym, waiting for her to call. After all, we had nebulous plans that might or might not include walking.
I reminded myself, very consciously, that I’m someone who goes to the gym now. And off I went. I almost took my phone up to the cardio machine so I could respond if she texted or called, but I also realized that I was pre-rationalizing jumping off the machine if she called. I gave myself permission to be unavailable, to work out without worrying about anyone else’s schedule.
You know what? I worked out, I came home, I showered, and she called. We had a great night out with a few friends, and I didn’t have to compromise my identity as someone who goes to the gym.
My parents actually crashed our girls’ night out, which was totally fine with all parties, but kind of funny, too. We all got some insight into my food issues, to boot.
My friends and I have been laughing about the fact that my mom is either unaware that I’ve lost weight (now 43 pounds) or afraid to say anything for fear of jinxing it. We were having a very leisurely meal, and at one point, one person ordered a couple of slices of apple pie for the table.
I watched my mom as the pie arrived. She had a look of deep disapproval that it had been ordered. She immediately started to mutter about how none of us needed any, and grumble about how good it looked. She picked up a small plate and started spooning pie onto it (these were big slices), and with each scoop, she’d shake her head and say I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m not going to eat this, none of us need this …
Sad. Illuminating. My mom really equates being overweight, and even eating, with some moral failing. She must be a secret eater, too, because there is never any food in her house. We call the fridge the condiment museum.
She did comment to one of my friends that I’m “obviously” doing something and look good, which is high praise from her, and means she’s finally noticed. I’m not going to say anything to her, and I bet it will be some time before she says anything to me, and that’s OK for now. I can only tackle so much at any one time.
I woke up this morning and have dipped below 190 to 189 and some change. It’ll probably take a few days for that to become a permanent dip, as I tend to hover back and forth each time I drop a pound. Very exciting, however, to see a number starting with 18_!