Fact or friction?

I remember distinctly the first time it happened to me.

I was about 12 years old and my Girl Scout troop and I were serving as pages at the Capitol. I'm not sure why I wasn't wearing my uniform, but I was wearing my favorite sweater dress. Royal blue and highlighted with slightly shimmery stars, it complemented my perfectly teased bangs and pink and blue eyeshadow, giving me what I thought was a perfect look. For 1987. This was a formal occasion and bare legs were forbidden. So my mom bought me a trusty egg-shaped container of L'eggs pantyhose (in the suntan shade, of course) and I set out for my day as a political genius in the making.

I walked all day. All. Day. And by the end of it, my thighs were burning. The pantyhose, combined with my very, um, mature-for-my-age thighs, had caused chafing that was enough to make a Rockette weep. But, of course, a Rockette, with her danced-to-perfection thighs probably doesn't have to worry about the awesomeness of chub rub.

Chub. Rub.

It's a terrible name. But it's appropriate. Do a Google search and you find all sorts of ways to combat it (my favorite, in case you're wondering, is the Monistat Chafing Relief Gel. It's a Godsend in the summer). That fateful day at the Capitol--walking home like a cowboy after a long trailride--was my first realization that sometimes being overweight is physically, burningly painful.

I had an acquaintance once. We'll call her Mona. One day I was talking frankly about chafing, when Mona exclaimed, totally seriously, "Wait, you mean your thighs touch?" She ran to the bathroom and came back. "It's so weird," she said. "My thighs don't touch!"

Yeah, no sh*t, Skeletor.

Mona had never had the experience of wearing shorts on a summer day while subtly opening her legs just enough to try prevent her thighs from fighting to consume the fabric between them.

She'd never worn out a hole on her favorite pair of jeans. Or tried to staple them back together. OK, that one might just be me.

And she'd had never poured baby powder down her legs in a futile attempt to rid herself of a big-thigh heat rash.

So yeah, my thighs touch. They rub together. They physically argue sometimes over which one should be on top. And they might always do so.

Yesterday, I wore a hole in my favorite pair of work pants. It kind of broke my heart. I hadn't done that in a long time. This shows me a few things. First of all, I need to buy some new pants. Obviously I'm wearing the ones I have way, WAY too much. But that's because I'm not thrilled with my size and don't want to buy more pants. So now I'm still this size and minus one pair of pants.

It also reminded me so much of my heavier days. And it reminded me that I don't ever want to go back to them again. It made me realize how much I truly want to be the best me I can, even if my thighs might always rub together a little bit.

So I'm throwing out my holy pants and forging ahead. Forever.

But if this entry leaves you as surprised as Mona that some people's thighs touch (Your thighs touch? So weird!), I'm just not sure we can be friends. No offense.

Newbie no more

I finished my "first week" of Weight Watchers.

Today was the first time in a months that I'd weighed two weeks in a row. And it wasn't too bad. I am down 2.2.

In looking at last week, I can see the things I did that helped me lose that 2.2, but I can also see the things that prevented me from losing more (not that I'm not happy with my loss).

Things I did well:

• Prepared meals and stuck to what I made, rather than deciding I didn't want it and going out to lunch instead. This is always a biggie for me.
• Stayed focused, especially during the work week. I didn't let any work or personal stress interfere with my health goals.
• Worked out four times.
• Stuck (for the most part) to one Diet Coke a day (water the rest of the day).
• Tried to incorporate protein into all my meals, including snacks (e.g. bananas with a little peanut butter).
• Avoiding the work candy dish ALL week (pretty proud of this one).

Things I could improve:

• Thinking I can have a "cheat day." My BF and I decided to order pizza Friday. I declared that I had been good all week and I deserved a cheat. This may be true. However, at the same time, I need to realize that I'm still pretty vulnerable and I just can't do that right now. 
• No more candy smuggling. We went to the movies Saturday and I got a bigger purse so I could smuggle in some candy for us (yes, I'm a terrible person). That's not necessary. Maybe I should try smuggling baby carrots?
• My mindset in general during the weekend. I really let my guard down a lot, but at least I got up yesterday refocused.

So overall, I had more good days than bad, and that's my whole goal right now. Victory was mine this week.

One down, lots more to go. On to the next week.

Introducing our newest member

What? Is she seriously blogging TWICE in one week? Could it be true?

I know! I'm kind of amazed myself. At any rate, here I am.

Tuesday I went to Weight Watchers and told my leader, Dee, I was starting over. I've been going to my meetings without weighing in for a long time now, and that's not helping. So, I got a new weight record and am treating this like a new beginning.

Dee was all for it. She started the meeting and said "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to our new member, Erika." And you know what? It really did feel like a fresh start. It feels good to think about leaving behind the past several months. I've still kept off 100 pounds. I'm going to hold onto that.

When I went completely out of control at The Ronald Saturday, I was so miserable. I feel like it was a bit of a back-breaking straw for this camel. I need to remember how much I WANT this. And how much I have inside of me to make it happen. I WILL see this through. I have to.

I've had a great few days. I feel a new motivation within me. My food has been on track. I've worked out every day. And I've tried to curb the negative talk.

OK, so that last one is still my biggest struggle. For instance, yesterday I went to one of the really tough workout classes offered here at Children's. It's the same class that actually made me cry the first time I took it. And even yesterday, I held back tears. See, this class is no joke. It's interval training, so we do a minute or so of cardio,  followed by a minute or so of weights, etc., for 30 minutes.

The first time I went, I thought "Oh, I can do anything for 30 minutes." Except when I thought I was going to die and looked at the clock, only about 7 minutes had passed. Needless to say, it's among the hardest 30 minutes I've ever experienced.

Sometimes, like yesterday, I walk out of that class feeling worse about myself than when I walked in. I can't keep up with everything (though to be honest, few people can), which makes me feel like a failure. That's clearly the wrong attitude. I should be proud just for trying. I'm working on it.

As always, thanks for sticking by me--through my real failures and made-up ones. 

Weekend of back and forth

Stop beating yourself up. Be kind to yourself. Remember how far you've come.

These are just a few of the words that expressed the overall sentiment from my Facebook followers during my weekend at The Ronald.

For those of you who don't follow me on Facebook (and there's a little link on the right of this page if you'd like to start), let me give you a little recap of my weekend.

Friday

I'm at the Ronald this weekend. If I don't post, someone bug me to make sure I'm not rocking in some corner, covered in Cheez-Its.

I didn't have a chance to bring food with me this weekend, so I'm going to just be aware of everything I eat and try not to overdo it. Dinner was fried chicken, mac & cheese, salad and biscuits. I had a little bit of everything. But not a lot. And that feels like a win.

Impending challenges--the storage room is much fuller than last time. And the Bakers' Club is coming tomorrow. Time to get my suit of armor out of storage.

Saturday 

For the first time I can remember, the breakfast crew didn't make eggs. Just pancakes, bacon and sausage. I had two small pancakes with some sugar-free syrup, a piece of bacon and half a piece of sausage. I think my challenge for the weekend is maybe not to be super restrictive, but just to be moderate. It's something I've been struggling with for a while, so this is a good way to face it head on. 

The Bakers' Club is making peach cobbler! Yay! I HATE cooked fruit, so won't even be tempted. We also recently got a fancy Ninja blender, so I made smoothies for the House. I miss the days of my beloved (but quickly broken) Nutribullet. Those of you who know me in real life know I have been obsessed with wanting a Vitamix lately. That want just got reinforced.

Felt myself going off the rails earlier. Chick-Fil-A dropped off extra sandwiches. The chocolate chip cookies were begging me to eat them. Before it got too out of control, I came down to my room and painted my nails. It's hard to keep reaching in the cookie jar (or bag full o' CFA sammiches) with wet nails. So while I made a couple not-so-great choices, I at least put on the brakes before I ruined it all.

 And the doozy from Saturday night:

I remember a time when I was so motivated to become a new person. So ready to change. Those days--the ones where I didn't have to rely on willpower, but just sheer desire to be better--seem like such distant memories. I am honest enough to say today wasn't good, but I'm not honest enough to go into details. I'm going to bed really sad and pretty defeated tonight. I suppose tomorrow is another day, yes?

Sunday

Definitely have a junk food hangover today. Woke up with a terrible dehydration headache. Still, I'm trying to remember that I have one day left to leave this weekend on a good note. So I started my morning with a little workout, courtesy of my iPhone.  

So far, so good. Had an omelet this morning with ham, cheese and onions, along with a banana with peanut butter. Lunch was a piece of ham and some kale salad. Drinking lots of water to flush out all the junk food toxins from yesterday. 

So, what was the final tally? After I lost complete control Saturday and went to bed feeling guilty and ashamed, I woke up and tried to start fresh. And...I did well. I went to bed Sunday night feeling better (although as of this post, I still haven't shaken my major headache).

I'm so grateful for the support I receive from you all. Often I forget people are reading the entries I write. But Facebook allows you guys to interact with me. And you never fail to talk me off the ledge.

I do, though, want to speak a little to my tendency to beat myself up. 

Here's the thing. I know I've come far. I know I've accomplished something. And sure, Saturday, was "just one day."

The bigger problem, though, is that I'm not in a good place. I haven't been since I can remember. "Just one day" seems to be more reflective of just one good day I have every once in a while. The hardest thing is that seem to know how to get myself back on track. So, as much as I'd like to pat myself on the back for what I've accomplished, I know I'm dangerously close to throwing it all away. And I just don't know why.

I miss that girl who was so motivated she didn't eat a french fry for six months. Who watched the scale go down weekly. Who was excited to shop because those sizes kept getting smaller. Who knew that victory tasted better than Doritos.

Because I don't feel like I'm her anymore. And I desperately want to find her. It's part of the reason I haven't been blogging. You guys don't need to hear me continue to whine about being stuck. I know full well I only have myself to blame. And if I were one of my readers, I'd want to yell at me and say "Snap out of it! We've heard the same thing from you for months now." 

So you have. But thanks for continuing to remind me of the good.