1 + .8 = Bah

I have to admit, I’ve gotten a little off track. No, I haven’t gained weight—well, not really, but I have gotten a little complacent.

Here’s how I know. This week, I lost 1.8 pounds. Last week, I gained 1.8 pounds. The week before? I lost, yep, 1.8 pounds. That 1.8 and I are not BFFs. I’m tired of it going away and coming back.

So what is it that’s gotten me in this cycle? I can blame it on my extreme busy-ness. I can blame it on traveling. I can blame it on the heat. I can blame it on the rain (sorry). But really, the blame should be with me, and me only.

In July, I was busy. I was traveling. I was hot. But that shouldn’t excuse me from making better choices. I’m taking this opportunity for a new month to start a renewed vigor with my plan. I will track my food. I will get in my workouts. And I will make my next goal.

I could use some inspiration, though. Does anyone have anything for me? New snacks? Quick recipes? I’ve been especially craving seafood, so I could use some new ways to make it.

Go ahead, blow my mind with your ideas. I’m waiting.

The match game

Since I’ve been writing this blog, one thing has been said to me repeatedly: you’re so open and honest.

But—to be honest—there’s one thing I’ve held out on discussing.

Dating.

Even now, I’m cringing a bit to think of talking about it to you guys. Still, I think it’s something I need to talk about.

Dating totally freaks me out. Totally. How can I be in my mid- (OK, lateish) 30s and afraid to date? The answer, I think, is that I’m just out of practice. Which seems completely embarrassing.

For the past several years, food was my significant other. Who needs a boyfriend when you’re stuffing your face with mashed potatoes and frozen pizza? As I ate, I built a literal wall with my body that kept people out and kept me from getting hurt.

I’m one of the last of my friends to get married. I’m a professional bridesmaid. A committed godmother and a happy “aunt” to my friends’ kids. But I want that for myself. And I’m not getting any younger.

When I started losing weight, I told myself I would attempt dating when I got to a certain weight. Yeah, I passed that about 25 pounds ago. Tick tock.

With dating, much like my weight loss, I’ve spent most of my life waiting for something to happen to me, rather than trying to make it happen myself. Waiting for my weight to drop. Waiting for the perfect guy to sweep me off my feet.

I learned, though, that much like the Good Witch told Dorothy, I had the power to change my life all along. It has changed. But I’m not as confident about finding someone with whom to share it.

How do you explain to someone that the reason you haven’t dated in so long is because you were too busy wallowing in the middle of a food addiction? (Don’t worry, I wouldn’t actually say that.)

Then there are the normal fears. If I do the online dating thing and then meet people in person, will I be pretty enough? Good enough? I wish I could start thinking of this in terms of it being my choice. But I spent so much time in the depths of self-despair, it’s still hard for me to think of myself as worthy. I guess that’s where I need to start.

I may or may not keep you guys posted on this. This is a tough (REALLY) tough subject for me to tackle, but I am trying to work through it.

You guys just cross your fingers for me, OK?

Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, etc.

It’s time for another installment of Erika’s favorites! Aren’t you super excited? Here are just a few things I’ve been loving lately.

Just FYI, the packaging has changed a bit.

Van Egg Rolls

I had forgotten how much I love these yummy egg rolls. They are really low in fat (and WW points, for my fellow ridders-of-weight) and they’re delicious. I’ve found them in Kroger and Walmart (in both stores, they’re near the premade foods in the deli section). The low-fat veggie and low-fat shrimp are the lowest in calories and points—and best of all? They’re huge!

 

Hebrew National 97 Percent Fat-free Beef Franks

There’s just something about summer that makes me crave hot dogs. You’ll certainly never find me at a Braves game without one. I mean, I’m an American girl, through and through. That’s why I love these yummy dogs. They’re fantastic. And they don’t even taste low-fat. Best of all, when it comes to nutritional info, they’re doggone (too much?) awesome. Only 40 calories per serving. And only 1 measly WW Point Plus. Yum. I like to eat them either without a bun, or on one of my favorite Ole tortillas.

Weight Watchers Smart Ones Pepperoni Pizza Minis

My friend Leslie turned me onto these. Each box comes with two servings, which is four mini-pizzas. They are so tasty—they remind me a little of school cafeteria pizzas (am I the only who loved those?) and I love getting four at a time. I’m never without these. They can be a little tough to find, so check different stores.

Marketside Three-Olive Hummus

I’ve often sung of my love for hummus. But I have officially found my favorite. Walmart’s store brand, Marketside, makes this fantastic Three-Olive Hummus. It’s rich, yet healthy, and even has little bits of olives in it. Yum.

Grilled veggies

While I can barely keep anything alive, I am lucky to have friends with incredibly green thumbs. Two in particular, my college roommate, Lange, and my coworker, Brant, have both gifted me with zucchini and squash. Usually with such vegetables, I roast them at a high temperature with some olive oil and salt and pepper. Well, this is Atlanta, and with a heat index of more than 100 degrees, the last thing I want to do is crank my oven to 400 degrees. So I’ve busted out my George Forman grill for some veggie delights. I brush on some olive oil, a little garlic, and kosher salt and pepper onto slices and put them on the grill for a few minutes. They’re perfect. I’ve eaten grilled zucchini and squash for the past few nights and I’ve yet to tire of it.

Peaches

The peaches this summer have been so good. I can’t get enough of them. They’re a perfect afternoon snack.

Fill me in: What are you loving lately?

Red, white and free

I hate putting away clothes. It’s always been my least favorite chore.

I can remember my mom would leave my laundry on my bed (so spoiled) for me to put away. I didn’t even have to wash my own clothes, yet I’d still whine about the hardships of putting things on hangers and in drawers.

Though I do my own laundry now, the amount of complaining I do about putting away my clothes hasn’t changed all that much. I still hate it.

But lately, putting away clothes hasn’t just been a bothersome task. It’s been almost impossible.

Since I started losing weight, I’ve gone down more than five sizes. And when you add the new clothes I’ve bought into the mix, well, let’s just say my closet and drawers are overloaded.

So what better time to purge my old stuff than Independence Day weekend? I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but Sunday morning, I got up and just started throwing stuff into bags. I stopped thinking sentimentally and started thinking practically. Sure, that dress was super cute, and I wore it to some memorable events, but it’s a size 24. I’m never going back there.

Toss.

It went surprisingly quickly. And with each item that went into the trash bag, I cleared out a little more space—in my closet and in my life.

In all, I filled six huge trash bags with clothes that no longer fit. And just to ensure I wouldn’t keep them, I drove them straight to my local Goodwill.

See ya never, old life.

It’s amazing how much better I feel now that there is room for my new stuff. Out with the old, in with the new, they say. It's how I'm trying to live my life, too.

Independence Day, indeed.

30-something going on 13

Today, I’m going to share a story with you. A story about a 13-year-old girl who fell in love for the first time (two love posts in a row! Yay!). Her love was divided among five guys, but one in particular captured most of her attention.


My bedroom circa 1990.

She’d sit in her room, covered with their pictures, and dream of meeting them. She’d listen to their music and just know they were singing about her. Oh yeah, she had the right stuff, all right. And step by step, she’d find her way to make these boys love her as much as she loved them.

To say the New Kids on the Block were my life as an adolescent would not be an overstatement. I knew all their birthdays. Their brothers’ and sisters’ and parents’ names. I have dozens of VHS tapes filled with their appearances. I bought shoes that looked like the ones they wore (black shiny tie-up ones). My room was covered in posters and pin-ups. But Donnie was the only one who had a framed photo that sat on my nightstand. Obsession.

The New Kids kept me out of trouble, as silly as it sounds. While our other high school peers were out drinking, my friends and I were watching our New Kids’ videos. Perfecting our dance steps. And planning our weddings.

A few years ago, the boys reunited. I couldn’t have been more excited. I never really lost my love for them. I followed their solo projects—but to have them back together was a dream come true. I got to relive my childhood.

Donnie Wahlberg club show in 2009.

Their first reunion show in 2008 took me right back to my teen years--when I was carefree, though I didn’t realize it. When I had my whole life ahead of me. When I could be anything I wanted to be. When I still had my mom. When I still had my dreams.

After that show, as giddy as I was, I sank into a deep depression. Had I become that person I dreamed of being when I first fell in love with them? I felt unaccomplished. Fat. Lonely. It sent me into a tailspin and into the rock bottom that eventually led me to start this journey.

Fast forward to Wednesday. The New Kids (and the Backstreet Boys) were coming to Children’s. I could barely contain my excitement. Could it be that 20 years of dreams were finally going to come true?

Patty Gregory, the Children's Manager of Public Relations, made it happen. She asked me to help her greet the boys when they arrived. My inner teen was screaming, but my outer professional tried to be cool as a cucumber. I think I ended up somewhere between the two.

Then, finally, it happened, thanks to my friend and co-worker Meg Flynn, who grabbed Donnie for a photo opp. Donnie Wahlberg, my very first love, put his arms around me. Cheek-to-cheek, we posed for a picture. I talked to him about inane stuff. I told him how great it was that they had come to visit the kids. He thanked me. He called me darlin’. I tried not to faint.

Then it was over. I started thinking about the woman that 13-year-old girl wished she could be. And I thought maybe—just maybe—I’m starting to become her.

Beach blanket bingo

Hey everyone! I’m sorry I’ve been MIA for a bit, but I’m back and ready to share some major news. You ready?

I’m in love.

With a bathing suit.

At this point in my life, I’m not sure if it’s more profound for me to be in love with a person or a swimsuit, but either seem like huge milestones.

So yeah. I found a bathing suit (at Walmart, of all places). And it doesn’t make me want to hide under a towel or shorts and a T-shirt. It makes me feel curvy, not fat. And confident, not freaking out about what people think.

I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of magic suit. It sucks me in and holds me up in all the right places.
In the past—in fact, every single time I can remember trying on a bathing suit—there were tears and bitterness and sometimes even laughter as I struggled to get a suit up my long torso. I’ve tried the suits with skirts. The suits with shorts. And even just a long T-shirt to try to mask my insecurities.

Most of my past bathing suits? Black. Or at least a really dark shade or something. My new suit? Red. Fire engine red.

Now, I’m not completely delusional. I’m not out there in a bikini. But I grew up loving the water. And I realized I’ve spent far too much time inside.

So this summer, instead of curled up on my couch with a book, you’ll most likely find me spending lazy days by the pool.

Those lounge chairs have been calling my name for years. I’m just now choosing to listen.

Team everybody

Overwhelmed. Humbled. Blown away.

Those are just a few words to describe how I felt about my lovely party last Thursday.

I spent many anxious hours wondering how it would go. Would people show up? Would I be able to stand up in front of those who did and speak? Would I start crying and blubbering like an idiot?

I walked into that room Thursday and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Balloons. Streamers. PEOPLE. So many of you turned out just to say hi. And I couldn’t be more grateful.

It was hard for me to express everything I wanted in just those few short minutes. I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to make sure you knew you’d saved my life, just by supporting me and reading my blog. I wanted you to know that if you are struggling with your weight or with food addiction, there is hope.

Eloquence is not really my thing. I tend to stand up and speak whatever words come to me. My knees were shaking and I was sweating from the adrenaline that came from speaking in front of a crowd. So I hope I got at least those points across.

I loved meeting so many of you after the party. A few of you told me of your successes. Those should be shared, too. (In fact, I’d love to feature a few of you here on this blog. Email me and let me know if I can highlight your story.) I have to say one of my favorites was the woman who told me she had been secretly competing with me to get to her 100 pounds first. At 96 pounds down, she’s almost there. I love that I had a covert competitor out there.

Thank you to each of you who came to the party. An even bigger thank you to those who planned the event. And a special thank you to my dear friends who made “Team Erika” signs and waved them—a reminder of those who have been a part of my life long before I started this journey.

I’ve often shared about how hard it is for me to take a compliment. Last week you guys made me feel so special—loved and supported. And that’s a feeling I never want to forget. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.