Depressination

Three years ago, when I wrote my very first blog entry, I talked about avoiding the annual health fair, despite the fact that participation would earn me a discount on my insurance. I was just too ashamed to let a stranger measure me and tell me everything I needed to do to change my life. It just seemed insurmountable then.

In subsequent years, I've not thought much about those health fairs--my only reason for not going was the pain of the flu shot or finger stick (seriously, those finger sticks hurt a LOT. And for days. I'm a wimp, apparently.). There was no worry about getting my biometrics done. Yeah, I was still overweight, but I was working to change it and knew exactly where I stood.

But this year was different. This year, I waited until the last possible day to attend. I thought about not going. I cried about it. I agonized about a stranger weighing me, measuring me and telling me everything I need to do to change my life. It just seems insurmountable now.

I am unhappy. With myself. With my regression. With my insecurities. With my lack of self-control. With my body. With my mind. I feel like I don't know who I am anymore.

I can't blame it on anything. I can maybe pinpoint when I started going backward, but I can no longer blame it on anyone. Not even myself.

Because you know what? Blame isn't going to do a damn thing. It's not going to take off these 40 pounds I've gained. It's not going to stop me from bingeing (and sometimes purging). It's not going to magically transform me into the motivated, weight-loss machine I once was. I am miserable, and I'm the only one who can fix it.

I was talking to my boyfriend the other night and crying about the health fair. I wasn't crying just because I didn't want to go. I was crying because I felt like the 300-something pound me who actually didn't go to the health fair back then. It hurt my heart to think of how far I got and how many steps back I've taken.

Though I'm depressed, I've also found a new determination (depressination? Boom. Blog title). I know I've said this before, but right now I feel like my life truly depends on it. I'm really making a new commitment to cut out processed foods and sugar--the things that make me feel terrible, sluggish and generally awful.

I'm making baby steps. I'm fighting like hell to ignore the very strong urge to become a hermit and cut everyone out of my life. This isn't easy. And right now, it's not even about my scale. It's about gaining control and believing in myself again.

Getting back to this blog is a must. But I also feel like I've let a lot of you down. I'm sorry for that. I'm trying. Always.

I believe in miracles

This month, I'm participating in a marathon.

Sort of.

I'm raising money for Children's Healthcare of Atlanta through the Children's Miracle Network Hospitals' Miracle Marathon. From Oct. 1 through Oct. 27, I have to move a mile each day, culminating in one extra mile for the kids.

It's only my third day of my marathon, but already a strange thing is happening. I'm remembering how much I like to move.

Throughout this journey, the exercise part has been easier for me than the food part. I'm no athlete, but I'm more likely to push myself physically than deal with the mental (food) part. That's why, despite my eating being out of control several years ago, I was able to earn my black belt.

But lately I've struggled even with the exercise part. I haven't pushed myself. I've barely even pushed myself off the couch, much less worked out on purpose. I am fortunate enough to have a lot of workout-class options through my job, but I'm not really taking advantage of them (except Cardio Fusion, my favorite). I don't belong to a gym anymore and my favorite Zumba class moved too far away for me to make it after work.

So instead of looking for more options, I've just kind of sat still.

When I heard about the Miracle Marathon, I knew it was not just a chance for me to make a difference in the lives of the children we serve through my hospital, but it was also a chance to make a difference in my own life.

I'm committed to this thing. Every day, I'm moving a mile at once. And that's a lot more than I have been doing lately. It feels good. I've even found myself making better food choices the past couple of days.

It reminds me of Lent. When I was in the height of my eating issues, I would still give up fast food for 40 days. And I'd actually stick to it, because, you know, Catholic guilt = fear of hell and all that.

So, yeah. Maybe I'm doing this marathon for a bigger reason, but maybe, just maybe, it will mean a miracle for me, too.

P.S. I can't post this without inviting you to visit my page to support me in my Miracle Marathon, or search to support someone raising money for your own local children's hospital. I also promise this will be the only time I post it. :)

Friday faves--the gadget edition

It's been a long time since I've done a favorites entry. I've found lots of things to love in the last few months, but I thought today I'd concentrate on my favorite gadgets.

More than a blender
Those of you who follow me on Facebook already know what my favoritest favorite is going to be. I obsessed about it for months. I watched videos. Read blogs. Pored over reviews. And then spent an inordinate amount of time trying to justify spending more money on a blender than I do for my monthly car payment. Thanks to QVC's Easy Pay, I was able to swing it. And guess what? It was totally, totally worth it.

I use it every single day. I make smoothies that are as smooth as milk (not even a teeny tiny piece of spinach), the creamiest mashed cauliflower I've ever had. I made soup out of nothing but red peppers, cashews and water (to die for), ice cream made out of only frozen bananas. I'm convinced this thing can help achieve world peace (seriously, maybe people are just cranky because their smoothies are chunky).

It's hard to try to convince anyone to spend that much money on anything. But if you're thinking about it, can justify the cost and are just wondering if it's worth it, consider this your enthusiastic YES IT IS.

Nooooooooooodles!
I have told y'all before that I'm not really a pasta fan. I like it OK, but it's not something I'd ever order in a restaurant (even an Italian one).

What I do like? Zucchini. One of my very favorite veggies, for sure. I had read a few recipes that featured zucchini noodles, and I was instantly intrigued. But how do you make such pretty ribbons out of a hard, green vegetable?

Zucchini noodles with avocado cream sauce. Yum!

 The first thing I tried was a mandoline slicer. I'm sure this works perfectly well for some people. But I couldn't quite get the hang of it and was left with a mushy pile of zucchini. Not at all the pretty strings for which I was hoping.

Enter the GEFU Spirelli Spiral Cutter. Coolest thing ever. You put your veggie in the little opening and twist it until perfect little noodles come out of the side. It couldn't be easier. I've seen other spiralizers that are huge and take up lots of counter space. This is small and seriously effective. One of my favorite things to do is make a salad with cucumber noodles in a sauce of vinegar, sesame oil and soy sauce. So good.

Wrist Party!
Now, for my favorite non-kitchen gadget. Fitbit was another gadget I obsessed over before finally taking the plunge. Several of my friends and co-workers have one, and I wanted to join the cool kids' party. It's been a while since I've been obsessed with something that's fitness-focused. But I'm officially in love with my Fitbit. It tracks your calories burned, your steps, even your sleep.

You can add friends and keep up with their steps, too (even send them jeers or taunts). My favorite thing is that if you hit your goal for the day (which you set yourself. Mine is 10,000 steps), the Fitbit lights up and buzzes, creating, as my friend Laura calls it, a party on your wrist. It's so motivating to be able to see your goal and actually achieve it. Love.

So what are your favorite gadgets that help you stay healthy?

One doesn't have to be the loneliest number

Yesterday, I crossed something off my bucket list. I went to the movies by myself.

Now for some people, this isn't a big deal. I have friends who love going to the movies alone. But for me it was a significant thing. I probably could have found someone to go with me, but it was important to me to do it on my own.

I have realized that I base way too much of my own self esteem on what I think others think about me. It's not even what people say or do, but how I perceive it. And it's kind of messed up.

As I settled into my chair (I saw The Butler, by the way. Fabulous.) with my small popcorn (OK, and Junior Mints, which no one cared if I dumped into the popcorn bag), I panicked a little. Am I the only one all by myself? Look at that group of girlfriends who are together for a movie date. Do people think I have no friends? No one who loves me?

The bigger question: Should it matter?

I wish I could say no. Unfortunately, I let it matter all too much. But I allowed myself to be a little uncomfortable, and then I enjoyed the movie. I walked out of there almost like I would after a good workout--with a big sense of accomplishment. Being alone isn't so bad.

Here's the thing about me. I've always been desperate to fit in--no matter the circumstance. My former women's group began in a rocky way for me, with one member telling me I didn't need to try so hard, that they already liked me. It hurt my feelings, but she was right. And it made me see things from a new perspective.

I hate that I'm jealous and insecure. I struggle with that especially in big groups of friends. I worry that no one really wants me there--that the only reason I'm there is because of the one person that really likes me who says "Come on, guys. I know you don't really like Erika, but give her a chance." And then I ruin it by trying annoyingly too hard. Almost every time I leave a group of two or more friends, I analyze how I acted and if they will want me around in the future. And then I tell myself that the NEXT time, I'll be less chatty, less desperate, less insecure.

Why am I telling you all this? It is a little hard for me to write about, because it's embarrassing and perhaps the part of me I most dislike. I long to be confident and not worry if people like me. I mean, my friends love me. So why do I question this? Constantly? It creates a vicious cycle.

I think about my movie date with myself. Of course I'll question whether or not people like me. I mean, I don't even like hanging out with me.

It's something I am trying to work on--being OK with being who I am--whether that's in a group or by myself.

But I hope people who love me will remind me, like my very wise friend did once upon a woman's group, that I don't have to try so hard. Being myself is enough.

Loud and not proud

Excuse me while I dust off the cobwebs.

There. That's better.

Hi, friends. Yes, it's been since June since I've blogged. Yes, I'm still struggling. Yes, I'm still trying.

So there's that.

Besides my weight gain, and my clothes not fitting the way I'd like, I think I'm most bothered by my emotional state. I find myself, more and more, choosing food over events. Over people. Over everything.

Not only am I choosing food, but the self talk in my head, which I've always struggled with, has become resoundingly negative. And super duper loud. It's keeping me awake. It's keeping me from wanting to do things.

All parts of the old me who keep creeping up again.

Though I've never fully gotten rid of the negative self talk, at some point I was stronger to resist it and shoo it away. Now it feels like a dark evil force that strangles my every thought.

I don't mean to be so dramatic about it. Clearly, I hate dramatics (wink, wink). But seriously, it's a gravitational pull lately.

As an example. Last night I dragged my fat a$$ booty to Cardio Fusion for the first time in like a month. I worked hard, but the entire time, all I could think about was my jiggling stomach, my flapping arm flab, how much I'd let myself go. Why couldn't I focus on the good things I was doing for my body?

My negative self image has permeated my life and is working at a new level. It causes issues in my job, with my friendships and with my relationship. My sweet boyfriend, who never yells at me, has once or twice raised his voice to say, "STOP IT. You are talking about the woman I love. And I'm sick of it."

He's right. I'm sick of it, too. This is certainly not the first time I've talked about my self-loathing. But I know for sure it's what's keeping me stuck.

I had a wonderful therapy group for years, but our leader moved and we disbanded. I miss them. I miss having an objective sounding board. I know I need that. So I'm going to look for a new counselor and get this stuff in control.

It's making my head hurt.

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.