Dave Ramsey tells a story about a man who won a prize ham. He brought it home, proud as can be, and gave it to his wife to cook. She preheated the oven, prepared the pan, cut off the last few inches of the ham, and placed it into the pan to bake. When the ham was served, the man complained, saying, “Why did you cut off the end? That is the best part of a ham!” The wife replied, “I don’t know. That is how my mother always did it. I am sure there is a good reason.” They decide to call and ask the wife’s mom, who said, “I don’t know why. My mother always did it that way, so I figured that was the best way to cook it.” Fortunately, grandma was still living, so they called her up to ask her the secret. Grandma (once she had stopped giggling) explained that the reason she cut the end off the ham was because her baking pan was too small for the whole thing.*
The point of the story is this: we do a lot of things simply because our parents did it that way, and we believe a lot of things simply because the people with whom we associate believe those things. I want to introduce you to a word today: metacognition. We use it a lot in education. It means “thinking about thinking,” or, to put it another way, thinking about your own thought processes. It means becoming aware of what you think, and asking yourself why you think that way.
For example, are you the sort of person who always eats dessert? Do you feel like a meal is not complete unless you eat something sweet at the end of it? Ask yourself why! Did your Mom provide dessert with every meal? Do you have happy memories of family gatherings topped with apple pie and homemade ice cream? Did you grow up eating Banquet TV dinners with the little dessert in the corner? (Sidenote: some nutritionists do recommend dessert if you are accustomed to it, as it signals the brain that your meal is over, but they suggest something like a piece of fruit or a small piece of chocolate).
Maybe you HATE exercise. Ask yourself why! Did you come from a sedentary background? Does your family exercise? Your spouse? Or were you an athlete and you got hurt? Maybe you were made fun of as a teenager when doing calisthenics or you were terrible at sports in p.e. Or maybe (this one might hurt) you are lazy! Maybe you are just plain slothful (I was) and you need to start moving your bootie.
Why do you hate vegetables?
Why do you drive through McDonald’s on your way to work?
Why do you watch so much TV?
Why do you read while you are eating?
Why do you eat when you are depressed?
Why do you dress the way you do?
Why do you eat in your car? Or in secret?
Ask yourself these questions. And any other questions you can think of in regards to your behavior. In fact, write them down in a notebook and try to figure out the answers. It will be worth the time and effort.
Metacognition: it is a powerful thing. Because once you ask yourself why, once you become aware of the way you think about something, you can start to change it. And that is what we are working towards, here, isn’t it? Real change.
*By the way, to see some more versions of this “fable”, check out its Snopes page.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Turning Point, part 2
Once I got over the shock of the phone call telling me that, no, I was not going to have surgery; and therefore no, I was not going to be a parent anytime soon, I began a rapid cycle of emotions not dissimilar to the stages of grief. Denial lasted maybe an hour, then quickly morphed into depression, which clung for several hours before morphing into anger – a lot of it. I was really, really mad. First at Dr. S herself, for raising our hopes so high and then letting a cheerful voice on the phone pull the rug out from under us. Second, at Cheerful Voice herself, for not having more tact and for not giving me any direction other than “go see your doctor.” Third, and most of all, at myself for being in such poor health. I was angry, I was crushed, and I felt completely helpless. (This is important, because the helplessness is the key that turned the lock for me.) At that point in my life, I had reached a place where I felt as if there was nothing I could do to change my level of health. I had had so many years of failure, of struggling, of praying, of gritting my teeth and screwing up my courage and manufacturing will-power, trying so hard to change, that I had effectively given up. I was a victim of circumstances, of genetics, of the restaurant industry, of the ticking clock, and because of this I was to be denied my lifelong dream of having children.
My mother, poor thing, was witness to some of this anger and the subsequent bargaining stage. Naturally nothing she said was getting through to me. One of the things she pointed out was that I could try another fertility doctor, but even in my state of mind I knew that shopping for a doctor who was willing to take a bigger risk was not a smart idea. I was still open to adoption, but I believed I was also facing a genuine loss: the loss of the possibility of bearing a child myself, and it hurt! I heard myself saying aloud “I’m not going to have a baby. I’m never going to have a baby. This is so unfair!”
Being a Christian, and believing that prayer is a powerful thing, I naturally took the matter to God. I had been praying about my weight, my health, and the issue of parenthood for years; but I must admit this particular prayer session was more whining than anything else: “Why, Lord? I would be a good mom, I know I would! Why do we have to work so hard to be parents when so many others fall into it? It’s not right! And why is my body betraying me? Why can’t I lose weight and get healthy? I’ve been praying and trying for so many years and I am not getting anywhere!” and so on, you get the idea.
It was in the moment, when I was teetering on the border between depression and rage that I felt the following words speaking deep in my spirit: "This is something you have control over.”
Now, I am quite sure that I have heard those words before, likely thousands of times, but for some reason, this time, perhaps because of my emotional or spiritual or mental state, I really heard them. There was a locked door in my mind, and those words were the key that fit the lock. Call it an epiphany if you like, but in that moment I had a fundamental change in my thinking. Nothing had changed in my circumstances, or my health, or my body; but something changed in my brain. For the first time in a long time I felt like I had some power. I found myself standing in front of the mirror, talking to myself (stop laughing, you’ve done it too, and if you haven’t perhaps you should try it!), saying things like: “You can lose weight if you want to. You are the one who decides what goes into your mouth. What? Are those chocolate chip cookies buying themselves and leaping onto your mouth while you are sleeping? You are the one who decides if you are going to exercise. You can choose your behavior. What? Do you expect God to zap you with awesome metabolism, a love of sweat and a hatred for sugar? What about free will, hmmm? You are not a puppet or a robot or an infant. Is it going to be easy? Probably not – but what have you accomplished by doing what is easy, huh? Nothing, that’s what, So get with it, missy!”
That was the beginning, and since then I have lost 40 pounds, lowered my A1C to 5.9, developed better eating habits, begun regular exercise, and no, it hasn’t been a cake walk but it hasn’t been that hard, either. Why? Because my thinking changed. I don't want to oversimplify things, but you have to be in the right head-space in order to lose weight successfully. For some people, like me, it takes an emotional benchmark. For others, perhaps, it does not have to be so dramatic. I also believe that I was praying for the wrong thing for years. What I wanted was to eat whatever I wanted, lie on the couch watching TV instead of exercising, and be thin and healthy. I just couldn’t understand why God wouldn’t let me have it that way. I wanted to have all of the benefits of self-control and self-discipline without practicing either, and it just doesn’t work that way.
So that is my story; at least the beginning of the story. And by the way: I am having the surgery this Friday. :-)
My mother, poor thing, was witness to some of this anger and the subsequent bargaining stage. Naturally nothing she said was getting through to me. One of the things she pointed out was that I could try another fertility doctor, but even in my state of mind I knew that shopping for a doctor who was willing to take a bigger risk was not a smart idea. I was still open to adoption, but I believed I was also facing a genuine loss: the loss of the possibility of bearing a child myself, and it hurt! I heard myself saying aloud “I’m not going to have a baby. I’m never going to have a baby. This is so unfair!”
Being a Christian, and believing that prayer is a powerful thing, I naturally took the matter to God. I had been praying about my weight, my health, and the issue of parenthood for years; but I must admit this particular prayer session was more whining than anything else: “Why, Lord? I would be a good mom, I know I would! Why do we have to work so hard to be parents when so many others fall into it? It’s not right! And why is my body betraying me? Why can’t I lose weight and get healthy? I’ve been praying and trying for so many years and I am not getting anywhere!” and so on, you get the idea.
It was in the moment, when I was teetering on the border between depression and rage that I felt the following words speaking deep in my spirit: "This is something you have control over.”
Now, I am quite sure that I have heard those words before, likely thousands of times, but for some reason, this time, perhaps because of my emotional or spiritual or mental state, I really heard them. There was a locked door in my mind, and those words were the key that fit the lock. Call it an epiphany if you like, but in that moment I had a fundamental change in my thinking. Nothing had changed in my circumstances, or my health, or my body; but something changed in my brain. For the first time in a long time I felt like I had some power. I found myself standing in front of the mirror, talking to myself (stop laughing, you’ve done it too, and if you haven’t perhaps you should try it!), saying things like: “You can lose weight if you want to. You are the one who decides what goes into your mouth. What? Are those chocolate chip cookies buying themselves and leaping onto your mouth while you are sleeping? You are the one who decides if you are going to exercise. You can choose your behavior. What? Do you expect God to zap you with awesome metabolism, a love of sweat and a hatred for sugar? What about free will, hmmm? You are not a puppet or a robot or an infant. Is it going to be easy? Probably not – but what have you accomplished by doing what is easy, huh? Nothing, that’s what, So get with it, missy!”
That was the beginning, and since then I have lost 40 pounds, lowered my A1C to 5.9, developed better eating habits, begun regular exercise, and no, it hasn’t been a cake walk but it hasn’t been that hard, either. Why? Because my thinking changed. I don't want to oversimplify things, but you have to be in the right head-space in order to lose weight successfully. For some people, like me, it takes an emotional benchmark. For others, perhaps, it does not have to be so dramatic. I also believe that I was praying for the wrong thing for years. What I wanted was to eat whatever I wanted, lie on the couch watching TV instead of exercising, and be thin and healthy. I just couldn’t understand why God wouldn’t let me have it that way. I wanted to have all of the benefits of self-control and self-discipline without practicing either, and it just doesn’t work that way.
So that is my story; at least the beginning of the story. And by the way: I am having the surgery this Friday. :-)
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Turning Point, part 1
Today marks exactly 6 months since I started my new lifestyle, so I thought it would be a good time to talk about what happened 6 months ago and why it caused me to radically change my behavior in regards to eating, exercise, and my diabetes. I am breaking this post into parts, because it is a long story.
First, a little history: I was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes in the Spring of 2003 (I think I said in a previous post that it was 2002, but I went back and checked, and it was actually 2003, so I’ll be editing that), and lost 27 pounds that first year, then spent the next 5 years maintaining until September 27, 2007, when I had my wake-up call. During that maintenance time I was not behaving in the way a diabetic should, but I played the game pretty well. I found ways to eat what I wanted, wasn’t exercising, and was a little conservative with the truth when speaking to my doctor and family about my condition. It was not uncommon for me to have fasting blood sugar readings of 150, and after a meal it would get close to 300. Had I continued in this pattern I am quite sure that I not only would have started to gain weight again, but also would have ended up on insulin.
More history: I have always wanted to be a wife and mother (in that order), and my glorious plan was to marry right out of college, have a ton of kids, and be a stay-at-home Mom. The thing is, as often happens in life, it did not work out that way. I didn’t meet my husband until I was 34, and we married when I was 36, so at this point I would be pleased as punch if I could be blessed with just 1 or 2 kids. Plus I should mention that, as most of you know, one’s plans and priorities often change as one gets older, and although I think large families are a blessing, I am not so sure anymore that I would have been an ideal matriarch for a large brood. Which goes to show that, many times, what we want is not always what is best for us. But I digress.
When the first 3 years of marriage did not result in pregnancy, my husband and I consulted a fertility specialist (we are also open to adoption, but wanted to try biologically, first.). She was very encouraging, stating that she believed she could help us – my fears that she would take one look at me: a 39-year-old very overweight diabetic, and say “no way!’ proved to be unfounded - and I started to hope. She did an ultrasound and recommended that I have a minor surgery to remove fibroids and possibly a septum, stating that once that was taken care of we would most likely be successful in our parental pursuits. She drew a ton of bloodwork on us and said to call back in a week to schedule the surgery.
I left that appointment elated. After so many years of being SNP (single, no prospects), and 3 years of negative e.p.t. sticks, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I just knew that this surgery would solve our problems!
On September 27th, I called the doctor’s office to schedule the surgery. Now, you would think that if you work in a fertility doctor’s office, you would have some amount of training in the gentle breaking of bad news, but the gal who answered the phone simply told be chirpily that “Dr. S said to tell you that your labs are very alarming – your A1C is 7.3, and she is not comfortable operating on you in your current state of health.”
I was dumbfounded. I managed to stammer out, “Well, what now? What do I do?” to which the peppy voice replied that they had already faxed my lab results to my endocrinologist, and I needed to make an appointment with him right away to see what we could do to manage my diabetes. This was also alarming, since I could not recall telling them it was ok to fax my labs to anyone (although I am sure I signed something that said they could) and I did not want to face my Endo with an A1C reading of 7.3! I still had a couple of months before my regular Endo appt. and had planned to “be very good” for the weeks leading up to that appointment, but here was my bad behavior laid out in black & white, and he already had it in his inbox!
The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur, but I think I said something like, “I guess I’ll be back in touch after I speak with him” to which I am quite sure the cheerful voice said “okey dokey” or the like.
To be continued…
First, a little history: I was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes in the Spring of 2003 (I think I said in a previous post that it was 2002, but I went back and checked, and it was actually 2003, so I’ll be editing that), and lost 27 pounds that first year, then spent the next 5 years maintaining until September 27, 2007, when I had my wake-up call. During that maintenance time I was not behaving in the way a diabetic should, but I played the game pretty well. I found ways to eat what I wanted, wasn’t exercising, and was a little conservative with the truth when speaking to my doctor and family about my condition. It was not uncommon for me to have fasting blood sugar readings of 150, and after a meal it would get close to 300. Had I continued in this pattern I am quite sure that I not only would have started to gain weight again, but also would have ended up on insulin.
More history: I have always wanted to be a wife and mother (in that order), and my glorious plan was to marry right out of college, have a ton of kids, and be a stay-at-home Mom. The thing is, as often happens in life, it did not work out that way. I didn’t meet my husband until I was 34, and we married when I was 36, so at this point I would be pleased as punch if I could be blessed with just 1 or 2 kids. Plus I should mention that, as most of you know, one’s plans and priorities often change as one gets older, and although I think large families are a blessing, I am not so sure anymore that I would have been an ideal matriarch for a large brood. Which goes to show that, many times, what we want is not always what is best for us. But I digress.
When the first 3 years of marriage did not result in pregnancy, my husband and I consulted a fertility specialist (we are also open to adoption, but wanted to try biologically, first.). She was very encouraging, stating that she believed she could help us – my fears that she would take one look at me: a 39-year-old very overweight diabetic, and say “no way!’ proved to be unfounded - and I started to hope. She did an ultrasound and recommended that I have a minor surgery to remove fibroids and possibly a septum, stating that once that was taken care of we would most likely be successful in our parental pursuits. She drew a ton of bloodwork on us and said to call back in a week to schedule the surgery.
I left that appointment elated. After so many years of being SNP (single, no prospects), and 3 years of negative e.p.t. sticks, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I just knew that this surgery would solve our problems!
On September 27th, I called the doctor’s office to schedule the surgery. Now, you would think that if you work in a fertility doctor’s office, you would have some amount of training in the gentle breaking of bad news, but the gal who answered the phone simply told be chirpily that “Dr. S said to tell you that your labs are very alarming – your A1C is 7.3, and she is not comfortable operating on you in your current state of health.”
I was dumbfounded. I managed to stammer out, “Well, what now? What do I do?” to which the peppy voice replied that they had already faxed my lab results to my endocrinologist, and I needed to make an appointment with him right away to see what we could do to manage my diabetes. This was also alarming, since I could not recall telling them it was ok to fax my labs to anyone (although I am sure I signed something that said they could) and I did not want to face my Endo with an A1C reading of 7.3! I still had a couple of months before my regular Endo appt. and had planned to “be very good” for the weeks leading up to that appointment, but here was my bad behavior laid out in black & white, and he already had it in his inbox!
The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur, but I think I said something like, “I guess I’ll be back in touch after I speak with him” to which I am quite sure the cheerful voice said “okey dokey” or the like.
To be continued…
Monday, March 24, 2008
Rodeo Jeans
I met my husband in February 2002, and our second date was to the Houston Rodeo. Every spring the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo takes over Houston for about a month, and it is a huge thing ‘round these parts. Up until that point I had been to the rodeo once or twice with my family, but we were not “Rodeo people.” We were not into country music, western wear, or livestock, and didn’t really hang with anyone who was. When I was a teenager, my district had 2 high schools (now it has 5!) and I attended Clear Lake, which was richly populated with people who wore Izod polos and listened to pop music. The other high school, Clear Creek, was richly populated with people who wore cowboy boots and listened to country music. Naturally they thought we were stuck up, and we thought they were hicks. So going to the Rodeo was not something I had a lot of experience with, but my future husband was a fan, and already had tickets, so I agreed to go. Right around that time I had received a bag of hand-me-over clothes from someone (can’t recall if she was losing weight or gaining), and in the bag happened to be a pair of what I fondly refer to as my “rodeo jeans.” These jeans are boot cut, with studs up the outsides of the legs and rhinestones all around the pockets, and at the time (I was around my heaviest) they were TIGHT! But since I was able to get them zipped, and being in the mode of trying to impress FutureHusband, I squeezed myself into them, donned the only western-style shirt I owned (untucked, of course!), and went off to the rodeo.
I had a good time, and over the last several years have discovered that I do like a lot of country music, enjoy livestock shows, and even get a kick out of dressing western once in awhile. But that 2nd date to the rodeo was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life! Stadium seats are not made for fat girls with humongous back ends, and being in those jeans meant that when I did wedge myself into a sitting position (after walking up several ramps and those steep, steep stadium stairs!), my stomach rolled over the waistband and breathing became a challenge. The rodeo plus concert lasts a good 4 hours, so it was brutal. I kept my arm around the back of FutureHusband’s chair for most of the time, not out of affection, but simply to ease the pressure on my lungs and to keep from rubbing against the person to my right (who undoubtedly was thinking “Great, I get to sit next to a big’un – and holy cow how did she get herself into those jeans?!")
Preceding and following the torture of sitting in a hard plastic vise struggling to breathe, we walked – a lot. The Houston Rodeo is not just about bronc busting – it is a multi-million dollar event which includes a huge livestock show, gigantic kids area, hundreds of vendor booths, a massive carnival, an art show, a quilt show, loads of scholarship money, every kind of unhealthy food imaginable (e.g. deep fried snickers bars), etcetera, etcetera! It is easy to spend an entire day there (along with an entire paycheck, if you are not careful)! So the rodeo/concert was bookmarked with a lot of walking, or in my case trotting, to keep up with a 6’2” guy with very long legs who was in much better shape than I was.
I don’t know if you have ever tried to trot in super-tight jeans, hand me down boots, and a western shirt; in 80-degree weather, with asthma and close to 150 pounds of extra weight, but it is not fun! I kept asking FutureHusband to slow down, blaming my asthma primarily, because I was sucking on my inhaler about every half-hour; and the boots secondarily, since they were a new experience for me and a little too big as well. He was nice about it, a perfect gentleman, and I asked him this year if he knew back then that I was huffing and puffing because I was so incredibly out of shape. He says he didn’t, which is points for him whether or not it is true.
I still have those jeans, and in fact I have worn them to the rodeo every year since that first miserable time, with the exception of this year. (Most of those years I was nearly 30 pounds lighter than in 2002, so although the jeans were still snug, they did not render me miserable.) I didn’t wear them this year in 2008 because they are now so loose that I can take them off without unzipping them! (and no, there is not a speck of spandex in them.) This year, I actually had to buy a new pair of rodeo jeans, and although they are not nearly as flashy as my old ones (no studs or rhinestones on these puppies), they are boot cut, western style, faded Levis, and more importantly: they are a size 20! Over the years I have cut a lot of size tags out of clothes (to fool myself and others) but the size tag in my old rodeo jeans is still there, and it says 26/28. When my husband and I were jean shopping (he needed some too) I went straight for the 22, but they were too baggy (!) so I ended up buying the 20. I wore them to the rodeo last week, and when I sat down in the stadium not only did I fit in the seat, I could actually breathe!
Talk about motivation! But as psyched as I am about my new jeans, I am waaaaay more excited to report that they have apparently done some major construction on the Reliant Center, because this year I was able to walk from the bottom of the stadium section to the top without huffing and puffing! Perhaps they had so many complaints from fat folks that they adjusted the angle of ascent for the stairs and ramps. ;)
Seriously, though, when we went to the rodeo this year, I did not have to trot, suck on my inhaler, or struggle to breathe. I was not only able to keep up, I did so without sweating, and realized that the weight I have lost so far plus the exercise I have been doing truly is making a big difference! I can remember in years past thinking: “I really have to go to the bathroom, but I really don’t want to walk up those steep, steep stairs again!” This year? No issue. Not that I don’t still have a long way to go, because I do, but these are the things that keep me from getting discouraged with the “big picture.” These are the Gatorade shots that help you finish the marathon. So Yee-Haw!
Me and hubby at Rodeo 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Happy Easter!
Wow - I haven't posted in a week! I have been on Spring Break plus my mom had knee surgery, so I havn't been online much. Sorry about that. I'll post later today or tomorrow. And Happy Easter, by the way! Stay away from those candy-filled eggs, and get yourself into church this Sunday, ok?Hip Hop Rap ;)
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Testing...1,2,3...
I just wasted 2 test strips – in both cases because I didn’t get enough blood on the strip. “Err 5,” my meter shouted at me – twice! – and it makes me SO MAD when I waste strips, because the strips are what cost money – about 33 cents a strip on a monthly prescription, which (if I test 3 times a day as directed) is $1 a day, $7 a week, $28 a month, $354 a year. I do get a small break by using mail order for my strips – brings it down to about 23 cents apiece – but still, the strips are where they “getcha,” pocketbook-wise. Meters are free from the doctor or from the company, and lancets – well, they are the same copay as strips, but you can reuse them. I use the same lancet for about a month, so they end up costing almost nothing. (sidenote: I realize that the meter companies tell you to always use a fresh lancet, but um, no way am I doing that! It’s my body, my blood; no one else uses it or touches it, so I just switch out when it starts getting blunt.) If test strips could be reused, believe me, I would do that too. I further complicate things by testing more than 3 times a day (average 4.7 times according to my spreadsheet), because I like to keep really close tabs on my blood sugar, but my insurance won’t pay for more than 3 a day, so once in awhile I buy a vial of strips out of pocket. They are $1 apiece if you buy them that way – yikes! I can’t wait until I can get myself one of these. They still aren’t available for purchase, but should be soon! Once I have one, I can check my blood sugar anytime I want – with no needles.
Anyway. I never thought I would be able to test my blood sugar at all. I have a history of being seriously needle phobic. I am much better now, but I can remember as a child being held down by multiple adults for a vaccination. This year for the very first time I got a flu shot, and it not only took me days to talk myself into it, I was so keyed up on the day of the shot I am amazed I showed up for it at all. So the prospect of sticking my own fingers? Not a happy one. Interestingly, like most of life’s inconveniences, having to stab yourself 3 or more times a day does get easier over time. I don’t mind testing my sugar at all now, and most of the time it does not hurt, although there are those times when you shoot right into those nerves and WOWZA! you feel that for awhile. Usually, though, it is painless.
You would think after 5 years of doing this I would be able to eyeball how much blood is needed to make the strip happy. But I still screw it up a few times a month.
You know how Wilford Brimley comes on TV and says “Check your blood sugar. Check it often.” That always amazes me: that people need to be reminded, because I WANT to know what my blood sugar is. It is hard for me to imagine being diabetic and not wanting to know, unless you are in denial or seriously rebellious. Being rebellious as a diabetic is exactly the same thing as being self-destructive, by the way, because ignoring this condition is exactly the same as slitting your wrists, except it takes longer and is a lot more painful! Having experienced denial, however, I do get that by not checking your blood sugar, you can pretend that you did not just eat that package of Oreos. Or by waiting long enough after eating the Oreos to check, you can fool yourself into believing there was not a significant effect on your blood sugar. In fact, it is possible, by strategic testing, to fool yourself into believing that your blood sugar is under simply excellent control.
Thank heavens for the Hemoglobin A1c test! It’s hard to fool that test, so make sure your doctor is checking your A1c every 3 months, if you are diabetic. What the A1c does is look at your blood cells and “count” how many sugar molecules are stuck to them. Sugar is sticky stuff, and one of the things it loves to stick to is red blood cells. When you are diabetic and your blood has too much sugar, all that sugar floating around in your bloodstream tends to stick to the red blood cells. Now, a red blood cell only lives for about 3 months, so if you take some blood (ouch!), count all the sugar molecules attached to the cells, and average that number, it gives you the average blood sugar for the previous 3 months. Brilliant, yes? Even if you behaved for the month before your doctor’s appointment, the two previous months will still cause the test to read higher. This is a GOOD THING, because finger sticking is such an imperfect way to keep track, even if you aren’t rebellious or in denial! Here’s an A1c table. My most recent A1c was 5.9, which made me very happy, and I expect my next one will be even lower.
And check this out: Studies show that every time you reduce your A1c by just 1 point (i.e. from 7 to 6), you decrease the risk of damage to your heart and blood vessels by 10%! So even if you have a really high A1c right now, like 12, reducing it to 8 would give you a 40% improvement in the risk department for your ticker! That is pretty motivating.
Who knows, Technology like the Glucoband might eventually eliminate the need for the A1c test, and anything that eliminates needles I am very much in favor of!
Anyway. I never thought I would be able to test my blood sugar at all. I have a history of being seriously needle phobic. I am much better now, but I can remember as a child being held down by multiple adults for a vaccination. This year for the very first time I got a flu shot, and it not only took me days to talk myself into it, I was so keyed up on the day of the shot I am amazed I showed up for it at all. So the prospect of sticking my own fingers? Not a happy one. Interestingly, like most of life’s inconveniences, having to stab yourself 3 or more times a day does get easier over time. I don’t mind testing my sugar at all now, and most of the time it does not hurt, although there are those times when you shoot right into those nerves and WOWZA! you feel that for awhile. Usually, though, it is painless.
You would think after 5 years of doing this I would be able to eyeball how much blood is needed to make the strip happy. But I still screw it up a few times a month.
You know how Wilford Brimley comes on TV and says “Check your blood sugar. Check it often.” That always amazes me: that people need to be reminded, because I WANT to know what my blood sugar is. It is hard for me to imagine being diabetic and not wanting to know, unless you are in denial or seriously rebellious. Being rebellious as a diabetic is exactly the same thing as being self-destructive, by the way, because ignoring this condition is exactly the same as slitting your wrists, except it takes longer and is a lot more painful! Having experienced denial, however, I do get that by not checking your blood sugar, you can pretend that you did not just eat that package of Oreos. Or by waiting long enough after eating the Oreos to check, you can fool yourself into believing there was not a significant effect on your blood sugar. In fact, it is possible, by strategic testing, to fool yourself into believing that your blood sugar is under simply excellent control.
Thank heavens for the Hemoglobin A1c test! It’s hard to fool that test, so make sure your doctor is checking your A1c every 3 months, if you are diabetic. What the A1c does is look at your blood cells and “count” how many sugar molecules are stuck to them. Sugar is sticky stuff, and one of the things it loves to stick to is red blood cells. When you are diabetic and your blood has too much sugar, all that sugar floating around in your bloodstream tends to stick to the red blood cells. Now, a red blood cell only lives for about 3 months, so if you take some blood (ouch!), count all the sugar molecules attached to the cells, and average that number, it gives you the average blood sugar for the previous 3 months. Brilliant, yes? Even if you behaved for the month before your doctor’s appointment, the two previous months will still cause the test to read higher. This is a GOOD THING, because finger sticking is such an imperfect way to keep track, even if you aren’t rebellious or in denial! Here’s an A1c table. My most recent A1c was 5.9, which made me very happy, and I expect my next one will be even lower.
And check this out: Studies show that every time you reduce your A1c by just 1 point (i.e. from 7 to 6), you decrease the risk of damage to your heart and blood vessels by 10%! So even if you have a really high A1c right now, like 12, reducing it to 8 would give you a 40% improvement in the risk department for your ticker! That is pretty motivating.
Who knows, Technology like the Glucoband might eventually eliminate the need for the A1c test, and anything that eliminates needles I am very much in favor of!
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Of Fat Fingers and Ring Resizers
I lost my engagement ring last weekend. Not the simple, relatively inexpensive band-o-gold that sits next to my palm, oh, no! I lost my heart-shaped diamond engagement ring, the only piece of jewelry with any real value that I own, and I lost it because if fell right off my finger!
There are a lot of little things that happen when you drop a significant amount of weight, and sometimes these things take me by surprise, even though perhaps they shouldn’t. For example, I expect my clothing to get looser and to need smaller sizes, but it never occurred to me that my undergarments would also start to hang off me. And believe me, undergarments are not something you want 3 or 4 sizes too big, especially if you are of the female persuasion!
One of these little things that escaped my attention for awhile is my rings, which have been getting looser and looser. I have always had pretty big fingers (my high school class ring was an 8; my best friend wore a 3!) and they grew bigger as I put on weight. This picture was taken on the day I got engaged (April 17, ’04). At the time I was wearing a size 10, and that’s a big ring for a woman (average for women is 6) - just look at those chubby digits!
Anyhoo, as I have been losing weight, my size 10 rings are getting looser, and from time to time they actually fall right off my finger.
Naturally I do not want to lose either of my rings, and particularly not my diamond ring! So I started using the old standby: masking tape, wound several times around the band. (Actually, I recommend first aid tape, because it is softer and the edges don’t rub annoyingly.) To increase security, I would wrap the tape around both bands together – I figure if they both fall off together I will be sure to notice it!
Now, having tape wound around your ring looks really stupid, Not quite as stupid as having it wound around the bridge of your glasses, perhaps, but stupid all the same; and it is not terribly comfortable, so every few days I would get aggravated and take the tape off for a while, until my ring would start slipping enough to worry me, at which point I would reapply the tape. So I finally broke down and ordered a ring resizing kit from Amazon.com. The kit cost $10! and I am not sure what I expected, but I found out that ring resizers, although more subtle than tape, are also annoying and uncomfortable.
The kit came with 5 plastic strips, each of which was several inches long and a different width. The idea was to figure out which one fit your ring, trim it to fit inside the ring, and “clip it” into the ring. Here’s a picture.
Now, nothing against the folks who invented this, and I am quite sure it is less expensive than having a jeweler resize one’s rings (something I realize that I will need to do eventually), but $10 for 5 plastic strips? Seriously? First of all, only 2 of the strips are of any use to me, because, of course, it has to fit the ring. So I have actually paid about $5 per plastic strip (plus shipping) rather than $2. Secondly, you have to trim them so that they will fit inside the ring. This is really difficult, because when the strip is too long it won’t fit inside the ring, so I found myself using the outside of the ring to estimate. Thirdly, they tell you to trim the ends so that they taper, which (unless you are using very tiny, very sharp scissors) is also difficult.
I kind of butchered the first strip, and it ended up way too short, but the other usable strip I did pretty well with. Even so it was really hard to get it “snapped into” the ring, and even when I got it snapped in, it tried to snap back out when I put the ring on my finger. I had to be careful not to lose the thing every time I took my ring off (I don’t sleep with it or shower with it, especially now that it is so loose). Plus, it scootched around and around my finger during the day, and despite my carefully tapered ends I would feel it sharply poking from time to time, necessitating a manual re-adjustment.
It took me about 2 weeks before I lost the wondrous plastic ring resizer, placing me squarely back on square 1. It might have gone down the kitchen sink accidentally, or maybe my sheltie ate it, but I can’t find it. Perhaps I should have bought the “ring huggies” instead. They’re cheaper, but they look like they would be annoying and uncomfortable, too.
OH! I almost forgot – I did find my diamond ring. I was just sure it was at the park, somewhere in the sand, where we had taken my (adorable) niece that afternoon to play. I had several moments of pure panic before I remembered that after going to the park I had been digging around in my laptop bag. I checked, and sure enough the ring was at the bottom of the bag, nestled between my laptop and my external hard drive. WHEW! Thank God! (I mean that quite literally, because I am quite sure it was He who nudged me to look in my computer bag just seconds after a panicked prayer shot from my heart). My brother (adorable niece’s dad) was especially relieved that we did not have to make a trip to the park with flashlights! So no worries. My ring is safely back on my finger, wound around with nice, soft, cheap, ugly first aid tape. :)
[mini soapbox]
Sidenote: You may notice that I used both the word “lose” and the word “loose” in this post. One of my HUGE PET PEEVES with people online is that so many of them confuse these two words. So just in case you are one of them:
lose – a verb, as in to lose something. For example “I want to lose weight,” “Use it or lose it,” "They will lose the game," or “I do not want to lose my diamond ring.”
loose – an adjective, as in too big. For example “My ring is getting loose,” “Make the knot tighter, it is too loose” or “Those pants are too loose, pull ‘em up!”
I swear, if I see “Use it or loose it” one more time I am gonna scream! And yes, grammar gurus, I know that loose can also be a verb (loose an arrow) sometimes. :-)
[end mini soapbox]
There are a lot of little things that happen when you drop a significant amount of weight, and sometimes these things take me by surprise, even though perhaps they shouldn’t. For example, I expect my clothing to get looser and to need smaller sizes, but it never occurred to me that my undergarments would also start to hang off me. And believe me, undergarments are not something you want 3 or 4 sizes too big, especially if you are of the female persuasion!
One of these little things that escaped my attention for awhile is my rings, which have been getting looser and looser. I have always had pretty big fingers (my high school class ring was an 8; my best friend wore a 3!) and they grew bigger as I put on weight. This picture was taken on the day I got engaged (April 17, ’04). At the time I was wearing a size 10, and that’s a big ring for a woman (average for women is 6) - just look at those chubby digits! Anyhoo, as I have been losing weight, my size 10 rings are getting looser, and from time to time they actually fall right off my finger.
Naturally I do not want to lose either of my rings, and particularly not my diamond ring! So I started using the old standby: masking tape, wound several times around the band. (Actually, I recommend first aid tape, because it is softer and the edges don’t rub annoyingly.) To increase security, I would wrap the tape around both bands together – I figure if they both fall off together I will be sure to notice it!
Now, having tape wound around your ring looks really stupid, Not quite as stupid as having it wound around the bridge of your glasses, perhaps, but stupid all the same; and it is not terribly comfortable, so every few days I would get aggravated and take the tape off for a while, until my ring would start slipping enough to worry me, at which point I would reapply the tape. So I finally broke down and ordered a ring resizing kit from Amazon.com. The kit cost $10! and I am not sure what I expected, but I found out that ring resizers, although more subtle than tape, are also annoying and uncomfortable.
The kit came with 5 plastic strips, each of which was several inches long and a different width. The idea was to figure out which one fit your ring, trim it to fit inside the ring, and “clip it” into the ring. Here’s a picture.
Now, nothing against the folks who invented this, and I am quite sure it is less expensive than having a jeweler resize one’s rings (something I realize that I will need to do eventually), but $10 for 5 plastic strips? Seriously? First of all, only 2 of the strips are of any use to me, because, of course, it has to fit the ring. So I have actually paid about $5 per plastic strip (plus shipping) rather than $2. Secondly, you have to trim them so that they will fit inside the ring. This is really difficult, because when the strip is too long it won’t fit inside the ring, so I found myself using the outside of the ring to estimate. Thirdly, they tell you to trim the ends so that they taper, which (unless you are using very tiny, very sharp scissors) is also difficult.
I kind of butchered the first strip, and it ended up way too short, but the other usable strip I did pretty well with. Even so it was really hard to get it “snapped into” the ring, and even when I got it snapped in, it tried to snap back out when I put the ring on my finger. I had to be careful not to lose the thing every time I took my ring off (I don’t sleep with it or shower with it, especially now that it is so loose). Plus, it scootched around and around my finger during the day, and despite my carefully tapered ends I would feel it sharply poking from time to time, necessitating a manual re-adjustment.
It took me about 2 weeks before I lost the wondrous plastic ring resizer, placing me squarely back on square 1. It might have gone down the kitchen sink accidentally, or maybe my sheltie ate it, but I can’t find it. Perhaps I should have bought the “ring huggies” instead. They’re cheaper, but they look like they would be annoying and uncomfortable, too.
OH! I almost forgot – I did find my diamond ring. I was just sure it was at the park, somewhere in the sand, where we had taken my (adorable) niece that afternoon to play. I had several moments of pure panic before I remembered that after going to the park I had been digging around in my laptop bag. I checked, and sure enough the ring was at the bottom of the bag, nestled between my laptop and my external hard drive. WHEW! Thank God! (I mean that quite literally, because I am quite sure it was He who nudged me to look in my computer bag just seconds after a panicked prayer shot from my heart). My brother (adorable niece’s dad) was especially relieved that we did not have to make a trip to the park with flashlights! So no worries. My ring is safely back on my finger, wound around with nice, soft, cheap, ugly first aid tape. :)
Sidenote: You may notice that I used both the word “lose” and the word “loose” in this post. One of my HUGE PET PEEVES with people online is that so many of them confuse these two words. So just in case you are one of them:
lose – a verb, as in to lose something. For example “I want to lose weight,” “Use it or lose it,” "They will lose the game," or “I do not want to lose my diamond ring.”
loose – an adjective, as in too big. For example “My ring is getting loose,” “Make the knot tighter, it is too loose” or “Those pants are too loose, pull ‘em up!”
I swear, if I see “Use it or loose it” one more time I am gonna scream! And yes, grammar gurus, I know that loose can also be a verb (loose an arrow) sometimes. :-)
[end mini soapbox]
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Becoming an Expert
My older brother Kenneth, like most first born children, has a Type-A personality. Rather than taking the easiest path towards a goal, he tends to head for the diamond slopes (really, when he skis, he skis the black). He has always been a high achiever, from good grades in school, to sports, to music, to his career. And when he finds something he is interested in, he becomes an expert on it. For example:
When Ken was 7½ years old, he decided he wanted to ride a unicycle. Now, I don’t know if you have ever tried to ride a unicycle, but it is crazy-hard to do. Ken practiced and practiced and practiced; and let me tell you, he became an expert at riding that thing! He would pedal to the store, to school, up and down the driveway, over curbs – it was amazing to see. I tried it a couple times and it was a lucky thing I didn’t split my head wide open! (By the way, that’s Grey Girl in his arms. Hopefully he put her down before climbing on the cycle!)
Ken had a wide variety of jobs in high school, and one of the more interesting ones was working for a caterer. If I was working for a caterer, I suppose I would show up, put on my hairnet, and dip potatoes onto people’s plates. Not Ken. Just showing up to work was not good enough. Instead, he learned all about catering, and got involved in every aspect of his employer’s business. Heck, if the Ludwig’s had fallen sick, I am quite sure he could have run the business himself. In a very short time Ken became an expert on catering.
Now that he is all grown up, my brother has a career that requires him to travel. A lot. All over the world. And he really enjoys it too, which is always a good thing. He is good at his job, and I am quite sure he is an expert at what he does. But he has also become an expert on business travel itself. Check out his blog: http://www.allbusiness.com/4058092-1.html. He can tell you how to avoid long lines, make your hotel stay better, deal with lost luggage, get the seat you want on a plane – just about anything related to business travel.
Many people are not an expert on anything. They just float along through life, relying on what other people tell them to do or think. (This is especially really scary during an election year!) Others are “experts on everything,” or they think they are. We generally call these folks know-it-alls, and if you are one of them, STOP IT, because it annoys the cheese out of the rest of us!
Anyhow.
If you are diabetic, trying to lose weight, trying to get healthy, or all of the above, I submit to you that you need to become an expert.
You need to become an expert on diabetes: what is happening in your body physically, why/how the meds help you, how to avoid and deal with complications.
You need to become an expert on weight loss: what works, what doesn’t work, how to eat, how to exercise, how to improve your metabolism.
You need to become an expert on nutrition: what foods contain, what your body needs, what an appropriate portion size is (are you listening, restaurant industry?), and about glycemic load.
Most importantly, you need to become an expert on yourself: how your mind works, how your body responds when you change what you are doing, what motivates you, where you are weak, or strong.
Most of the time, becoming an expert is not something that just happens to you. There are exceptions, of course – babies, for example, are experts at getting what they need/want; and I am quite sure that if you had Shania Twain music pumped into your house 24 hours a day for a year, you would become an expert on her lyrics. Usually, however, becoming an expert is a choice. You need to decide that “yes, this is important, and I need to be knowledgeable about this.” And I’m not about to tell you that becoming an expert on something is an easy thing today. Some people call this “the information age,” but in many ways we are living in “the misinformation age,” because having all of this information at our fingertips (literally) means sifting through a lot of garbage to get to the good stuff. But it is worth the effort, and it may make the difference in whether or not you succeed on this journey.
You can’t be an expert on all things, and thank goodness for people who are experts on things like business travel, because we can call upon them for information when we need it. But you owe it to yourself to become an expert on yourself, whether your personality is Type A, B, C, D or Q!
When Ken was 7½ years old, he decided he wanted to ride a unicycle. Now, I don’t know if you have ever tried to ride a unicycle, but it is crazy-hard to do. Ken practiced and practiced and practiced; and let me tell you, he became an expert at riding that thing! He would pedal to the store, to school, up and down the driveway, over curbs – it was amazing to see. I tried it a couple times and it was a lucky thing I didn’t split my head wide open! (By the way, that’s Grey Girl in his arms. Hopefully he put her down before climbing on the cycle!)Ken had a wide variety of jobs in high school, and one of the more interesting ones was working for a caterer. If I was working for a caterer, I suppose I would show up, put on my hairnet, and dip potatoes onto people’s plates. Not Ken. Just showing up to work was not good enough. Instead, he learned all about catering, and got involved in every aspect of his employer’s business. Heck, if the Ludwig’s had fallen sick, I am quite sure he could have run the business himself. In a very short time Ken became an expert on catering.
Now that he is all grown up, my brother has a career that requires him to travel. A lot. All over the world. And he really enjoys it too, which is always a good thing. He is good at his job, and I am quite sure he is an expert at what he does. But he has also become an expert on business travel itself. Check out his blog: http://www.allbusiness.com/4058092-1.html. He can tell you how to avoid long lines, make your hotel stay better, deal with lost luggage, get the seat you want on a plane – just about anything related to business travel.
Many people are not an expert on anything. They just float along through life, relying on what other people tell them to do or think. (This is especially really scary during an election year!) Others are “experts on everything,” or they think they are. We generally call these folks know-it-alls, and if you are one of them, STOP IT, because it annoys the cheese out of the rest of us!
Anyhow.
If you are diabetic, trying to lose weight, trying to get healthy, or all of the above, I submit to you that you need to become an expert.
You need to become an expert on diabetes: what is happening in your body physically, why/how the meds help you, how to avoid and deal with complications.
You need to become an expert on weight loss: what works, what doesn’t work, how to eat, how to exercise, how to improve your metabolism.
You need to become an expert on nutrition: what foods contain, what your body needs, what an appropriate portion size is (are you listening, restaurant industry?), and about glycemic load.
Most importantly, you need to become an expert on yourself: how your mind works, how your body responds when you change what you are doing, what motivates you, where you are weak, or strong.
Most of the time, becoming an expert is not something that just happens to you. There are exceptions, of course – babies, for example, are experts at getting what they need/want; and I am quite sure that if you had Shania Twain music pumped into your house 24 hours a day for a year, you would become an expert on her lyrics. Usually, however, becoming an expert is a choice. You need to decide that “yes, this is important, and I need to be knowledgeable about this.” And I’m not about to tell you that becoming an expert on something is an easy thing today. Some people call this “the information age,” but in many ways we are living in “the misinformation age,” because having all of this information at our fingertips (literally) means sifting through a lot of garbage to get to the good stuff. But it is worth the effort, and it may make the difference in whether or not you succeed on this journey.
You can’t be an expert on all things, and thank goodness for people who are experts on things like business travel, because we can call upon them for information when we need it. But you owe it to yourself to become an expert on yourself, whether your personality is Type A, B, C, D or Q!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Texting for Nutritional Information – THIS IS SO COOL!
I have a dream! A dream that all people, fat or thin, can walk into their favorite chain restaurant, look at the menu, and have a CLUE what the nutritional value is of the choices before them. I have a dream that this will neither be accomplished by an increase in government nannyship, nor by the much-needed return to home cooking, nor by the modification of restaurant menus into novelettes. I have a dream that all people can instantly get nutritional information for items in thousands of restaurants all around the country!
Well, guess what? This isn’t a dream at all – this is real, and all it takes is a phone with text messaging on it (by the way, if you can’t text message on your phone, it’s time to buy a new one!) All you do is send a text message to DIET1 (34381) with the name of the restaurant and the name of the food item. If you want Weight Watchers Points® simply add the word Points or pts or pt to the beginning of the message.
I’ll do one right now, ok. I am going to text “wendy’s small french fries.” (Wendy’s does do a good job with having nutritional info handy in-store, but I really like Wendy’s, so I am going to use them for my example. I am also going to forget for the moment that french fries, one of my favorite foods on the planet, is something I try very hard to avoid!)…ok, sent……6 seconds later I receive this text:
Wendy’s
Small French Fries
Cal : 330
Fat: 16g
Carb: 42g
Protein: 4g
Nifty! Now, if I want the WW Points®, I will have to re-text with “pts” in front, and if I want a hamburger with that, it’s another text, so this can get expensive fast if you don’t have unlimited texting. Also, it’s not a perfect database. I sent in a text for Wendy’s Mandarin Chicken Salad and got back the nutritional value for the Crispy Noodles that come with that salad. And, of course, not all restaurants are in there (some, like Fuddrucker’s, do not release their nutritional value, darn them! And others simply haven’t found their way into the database. By the way, restaurant owners can contact diet.com and request to be added). Anyhow, there is no way to know if what you want is going to be in the database unless you try it (or go to the website to see). So I don’t recommend using texting as your primary source of nutrition facts. But it’s still awfully handy, especially for those times (we all have them) when you find yourself at a restaurant without a plan and they don’t have nutritional info available.
Don’t believe me? The details can be found at http://www.diet.com/mobile. The site has pop-up ads, which is a bit annoying, but this is cool enough that I am over it. This may even be cool enough to induce me to pay for unlimited text messaging on my plan, something we have not done to this point because, well, most of the time it’s just easier to call.
By the way, text-services are becoming more and more popular. Another favorite of mine is Google’s - you can text to GOOGL now to get directions if you are driving around trying to find a place (see http://www.googletutor.com/2005/04/18/google-sms-directions ). And Abilene Christian Univerity has begun issuing iPhones to their college freshmen, which will be used for many purposes including getting directions to classes, participating in class discussions, receiving homework alerts, even managing their financial stuff. Kinda makes you want to go back to school, huh?
I expect we will see more and more of this in the future, but who would have thought that the number of fat grams in a cheeseburger would find its way to the cutting edge of Technology?
Well, guess what? This isn’t a dream at all – this is real, and all it takes is a phone with text messaging on it (by the way, if you can’t text message on your phone, it’s time to buy a new one!) All you do is send a text message to DIET1 (34381) with the name of the restaurant and the name of the food item. If you want Weight Watchers Points® simply add the word Points or pts or pt to the beginning of the message.
I’ll do one right now, ok. I am going to text “wendy’s small french fries.” (Wendy’s does do a good job with having nutritional info handy in-store, but I really like Wendy’s, so I am going to use them for my example. I am also going to forget for the moment that french fries, one of my favorite foods on the planet, is something I try very hard to avoid!)…ok, sent……6 seconds later I receive this text:
Wendy’s
Small French Fries
Cal : 330
Fat: 16g
Carb: 42g
Protein: 4g
Nifty! Now, if I want the WW Points®, I will have to re-text with “pts” in front, and if I want a hamburger with that, it’s another text, so this can get expensive fast if you don’t have unlimited texting. Also, it’s not a perfect database. I sent in a text for Wendy’s Mandarin Chicken Salad and got back the nutritional value for the Crispy Noodles that come with that salad. And, of course, not all restaurants are in there (some, like Fuddrucker’s, do not release their nutritional value, darn them! And others simply haven’t found their way into the database. By the way, restaurant owners can contact diet.com and request to be added). Anyhow, there is no way to know if what you want is going to be in the database unless you try it (or go to the website to see). So I don’t recommend using texting as your primary source of nutrition facts. But it’s still awfully handy, especially for those times (we all have them) when you find yourself at a restaurant without a plan and they don’t have nutritional info available.
Don’t believe me? The details can be found at http://www.diet.com/mobile. The site has pop-up ads, which is a bit annoying, but this is cool enough that I am over it. This may even be cool enough to induce me to pay for unlimited text messaging on my plan, something we have not done to this point because, well, most of the time it’s just easier to call.
By the way, text-services are becoming more and more popular. Another favorite of mine is Google’s - you can text to GOOGL now to get directions if you are driving around trying to find a place (see http://www.googletutor.com/2005/04/18/google-sms-directions ). And Abilene Christian Univerity has begun issuing iPhones to their college freshmen, which will be used for many purposes including getting directions to classes, participating in class discussions, receiving homework alerts, even managing their financial stuff. Kinda makes you want to go back to school, huh?
I expect we will see more and more of this in the future, but who would have thought that the number of fat grams in a cheeseburger would find its way to the cutting edge of Technology?
Put Your Bathroom Mirror to Work!
We have a big bathroom mirror in our master bathroom. I haven’t measured it, but I would guess it is about 4 ½ feet wide and 3 feet tall. It covers the entire wall from the sinks up to the light fixture. Mirrors can be disconcerting to fat girls, even those of us with an inaccurate body image, but I am really glad that my bathroom mirror is so big because it is one of my best weight-loss tools.
I use dry-erase (Expo®) markers rather than wet-erase (Vis-a-Vis®) because they are in general neater. But either type will work. And don’t buy the cheapest ones either, because they will dry up quick and the tips get all mushy and don’t write well. I recently found some awesome fine tipped dry-erase markers with felt erasers on the end, like pencils.
The main thing that I write on my mirror is tick marks. I weigh myself every morning, and if the scale goes down, I mark a tick for each pound. I don’t erase tick marks unless I gain 5 or more pounds, because less than 5 pounds is probably water/sodium fluctuations and if I erased a tick every time the scale went up I would lose motivation fast. (One of the things you will hear me say over and over is that this is about behavior modification, so you can’t be all anal about everything.) I mark the ticks by month, so it looks sort of like this:
You get the idea.
To the left of the ticks, I write the last two digits of my starting weight for that month in parentheses. To the right of the ticks I write the pounds lost that month/pounds lost since Sept. 27th '07/pounds lost since all time high. For example, to the right of February, you will see 6/40/67, which means “6 pounds lost in February, 40 pounds lost since Sept. 27th '07, and 67 pounds lost since diagnosis.”
These ticks and the mysterious numbers on either side serve as a huge motivation to me. Every morning when I stumble to the bathroom to pee they are the first thing my sleep-blurred eyes see. I look, and I say to myself, “Look at that! Look what you have already done! You can do it!”
If I forget to tell myself these things, it’s ok, because another thing I use the mirror (and trusty dry erase markers) for is to write encouraging notes to myself such as “You can do this,” “It’s about choice,” “Small steps count,” and so on. I try to change it up regularly.
Just below the ticks, I write my weight-loss goal for that month, and how many pounds to go. Right now it says New Goal: lose 45 pounds by 3/31. 5 pounds to go! Each time I mark a tick, I also change this number, and I write this part big and dark and right at eye level, because I have come to believe that goals are really, really important. And not just any old goals. I am talking about specific, reachable goals that are made, posted, spoken aloud, and shared with others. Sometimes I make a two-week goal if my motivation starts to get frayed.
I do have to leave a little room for my husband to shave (although he has started making tick marks, too :), so the only other thing I have on the mirror is my Ten lists. Rather than being written in dry erase marker, these have been typed and printed out, and stuck to the mirror with sticky-tak. I have Ten Good Reasons to Lose Weight and Ten Easy Ways to Lose Weight. I have changed these up a few times, and I don’t read them every day, but if I feel myself slipping they are a good shot in the arm.
When I am standing on my scale (the Toyota, I mean; the Lexus faces the towel rack) I am facing my mirror, and my current goal is right at eye level. So unless I want to actually work at ignoring it, I really can’t.
The questions I get asked, on occasion, when I tell people about this, are “Don’t visitors to your house see this and what do they think?” or “Doesn’t all that writing on your mirror make your bathroom pretty ugly?” My response to the first one is that it doesn’t really come up. We have a downstairs bathroom and a guest bathroom, so it is rare when anyone other than the two of us is in our master bathroom. As for the second question, yes, it kinda does, but I don’t really care. If I lose 100 pounds in this process, the attractiveness of my mirror is not even a blip on the radar!
I use dry-erase (Expo®) markers rather than wet-erase (Vis-a-Vis®) because they are in general neater. But either type will work. And don’t buy the cheapest ones either, because they will dry up quick and the tips get all mushy and don’t write well. I recently found some awesome fine tipped dry-erase markers with felt erasers on the end, like pencils.
The main thing that I write on my mirror is tick marks. I weigh myself every morning, and if the scale goes down, I mark a tick for each pound. I don’t erase tick marks unless I gain 5 or more pounds, because less than 5 pounds is probably water/sodium fluctuations and if I erased a tick every time the scale went up I would lose motivation fast. (One of the things you will hear me say over and over is that this is about behavior modification, so you can’t be all anal about everything.) I mark the ticks by month, so it looks sort of like this:
You get the idea. To the left of the ticks, I write the last two digits of my starting weight for that month in parentheses. To the right of the ticks I write the pounds lost that month/pounds lost since Sept. 27th '07/pounds lost since all time high. For example, to the right of February, you will see 6/40/67, which means “6 pounds lost in February, 40 pounds lost since Sept. 27th '07, and 67 pounds lost since diagnosis.”
These ticks and the mysterious numbers on either side serve as a huge motivation to me. Every morning when I stumble to the bathroom to pee they are the first thing my sleep-blurred eyes see. I look, and I say to myself, “Look at that! Look what you have already done! You can do it!”
If I forget to tell myself these things, it’s ok, because another thing I use the mirror (and trusty dry erase markers) for is to write encouraging notes to myself such as “You can do this,” “It’s about choice,” “Small steps count,” and so on. I try to change it up regularly.
Just below the ticks, I write my weight-loss goal for that month, and how many pounds to go. Right now it says New Goal: lose 45 pounds by 3/31. 5 pounds to go! Each time I mark a tick, I also change this number, and I write this part big and dark and right at eye level, because I have come to believe that goals are really, really important. And not just any old goals. I am talking about specific, reachable goals that are made, posted, spoken aloud, and shared with others. Sometimes I make a two-week goal if my motivation starts to get frayed.
I do have to leave a little room for my husband to shave (although he has started making tick marks, too :), so the only other thing I have on the mirror is my Ten lists. Rather than being written in dry erase marker, these have been typed and printed out, and stuck to the mirror with sticky-tak. I have Ten Good Reasons to Lose Weight and Ten Easy Ways to Lose Weight. I have changed these up a few times, and I don’t read them every day, but if I feel myself slipping they are a good shot in the arm.
When I am standing on my scale (the Toyota, I mean; the Lexus faces the towel rack) I am facing my mirror, and my current goal is right at eye level. So unless I want to actually work at ignoring it, I really can’t.
The questions I get asked, on occasion, when I tell people about this, are “Don’t visitors to your house see this and what do they think?” or “Doesn’t all that writing on your mirror make your bathroom pretty ugly?” My response to the first one is that it doesn’t really come up. We have a downstairs bathroom and a guest bathroom, so it is rare when anyone other than the two of us is in our master bathroom. As for the second question, yes, it kinda does, but I don’t really care. If I lose 100 pounds in this process, the attractiveness of my mirror is not even a blip on the radar!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Denial
“You can’t change what you won’t acknowledge” – Dr. Phil McGraw
It’s not that I was surprised to have developed diabetes. In early 2003, when I was diagnosed, I was pushing 300 pounds and coming out of several years of serious depression. I have a family history of diabetes on both sides of my family, and my father is diabetic, currently suffering complications from his past poor management of the condition. Although I was a scrawny child, I was asthmatic and not into sports. I began putting on weight in high school, yo-yo’d up and down in college, and once I entered the working world I began a steady climb in clothing sizes. Looking back I can see that the more freedom of choice and the more of my own money I had, the worse I ate. I worked at Grandy’s® in high school which gave me access not only to my own cash but also to all the fried chicken, bacon, and cinnamon rolls I wanted. Then in college I was on a meal plan, which gave me access to an all-you-can-eat buffet three times a day (and it was really good food, too – I always looked forward to Oktoberfest and those chocolate rum balls…mmmmmmmm). Once I became a working adult I had real money, and, being single, started eating out all of the time. Plus there was no one cooking for me – I discovered that ordering a pizza is a big time saver when you have stacks of papers to grade!
Oh, sure, I dieted – all of the usual suspects: Weight Watchers®, Jenny Craig®, Low-carb, Low-fat, Low-salt, Low-food! I even did some fasting. But the pounds always came back, and always with a few of their friends. I hated exercise, but tried walking, biking, Curves®, the YMCA, the equipment at my apartment complex (boy, I wish I had access to that now), and I could never stick with it more than a few weeks.
So I wasn’t surprised that I had developed Diabetes. Nope, not at all. What shocked me was the WHEN. I expected I would start dealing with this when I was in my 50’s or 60’s; I figured I had another 20 years of eating what I wanted before I had to worry about blood sugar. But an array of bad eating habits, inactivity, and family history to give it a boost brought my diagnosis crashing down a little early. In hindsight, I am really grateful. But at the time it just ticked me off royally.
I decided right away to…um…stretch the truth…just a little. I was dating for the first time in years, and I was afraid that the word “Diabetic” would scare him away. Plus his parents, if they heard the word “Diabetic,” might encourage him to look for another, healthier, girl. As for my family and friends? I feared condemnation, nagging, and worst of all, the dreaded “I told you so.” Besides, let’s be honest: I was ashamed. I was ashamed that I had let myself get into this condition, and I was just as ashamed that I had no idea how to get myself out.
So in the Spring of 2004, after that devastating chat with Dr. V, I told pretty much everyone that I had been diagnosed with “high blood sugar” – that I was borderline diabetic, but of course it was completely reversible – I just needed to lose a few pounds, walk a little more, no sweat…it’s all under control…really, all under control…just a little tweaking to do… riiiiiiiiiiight!
Liar, Liar, pants on fire!
I told myself that this was my big “wake-up call,” the thing that would finally make me really change, and for some people, a diagnosis like this is exactly that. But the truth was that I was in serious denial. I was not just lying to my boyfriend, family, and friends. I was lying to myself, and the trouble with lying to yourself is that you tend to believe it!
I have to say: I did give it a good-faith effort at first – I went to Diabetes Education Class, joined the Y, tried to change my habits. Plus I got engaged in April 2004, so the prospect of wearing a wedding dress gave me a good push in the right direction (By the way, I did tell him the truth, long before we got married). I managed to lose 27 pounds that first year! And I maintained that weight until the Fall of 2007, when I had my real wake-up call and started losing weight again (story for later).
I call those first 27 pounds my "willpower weight" because a combination of external pressure and simply gritting my teeth (aaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggggghhhh!) was what lost those pounds. But I've got news for you, kids: willpower is not the way to lose weight (unless you are one of those annoying people who have 10 pounds to lose and thinks omigodiamSOFAT! Willpower might actually work in your case). Neither is external pressure the way to lose a significant amount of weight. Why? Because both willpower and external pressure are going to come and go. External pressure is completely out of your control, and although you can do things to encourage it (e.g. joining WW or asking friends for support), you can always escape external pressure if you want to badly enough. As for willpower? HA! It is no more possible to maintain willpower over the long term than it is to run a marathon at 6 minutes per mile. And willpower gets weaker with each subsequent "diet." This is why 95% of those who try to lose weight fail!*
Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bound and determined to be part of the 5%!
*Disclaimer: some believe 95% is an inaccurate statistic. I sure hope it is!
It’s not that I was surprised to have developed diabetes. In early 2003, when I was diagnosed, I was pushing 300 pounds and coming out of several years of serious depression. I have a family history of diabetes on both sides of my family, and my father is diabetic, currently suffering complications from his past poor management of the condition. Although I was a scrawny child, I was asthmatic and not into sports. I began putting on weight in high school, yo-yo’d up and down in college, and once I entered the working world I began a steady climb in clothing sizes. Looking back I can see that the more freedom of choice and the more of my own money I had, the worse I ate. I worked at Grandy’s® in high school which gave me access not only to my own cash but also to all the fried chicken, bacon, and cinnamon rolls I wanted. Then in college I was on a meal plan, which gave me access to an all-you-can-eat buffet three times a day (and it was really good food, too – I always looked forward to Oktoberfest and those chocolate rum balls…mmmmmmmm). Once I became a working adult I had real money, and, being single, started eating out all of the time. Plus there was no one cooking for me – I discovered that ordering a pizza is a big time saver when you have stacks of papers to grade!
Oh, sure, I dieted – all of the usual suspects: Weight Watchers®, Jenny Craig®, Low-carb, Low-fat, Low-salt, Low-food! I even did some fasting. But the pounds always came back, and always with a few of their friends. I hated exercise, but tried walking, biking, Curves®, the YMCA, the equipment at my apartment complex (boy, I wish I had access to that now), and I could never stick with it more than a few weeks.
So I wasn’t surprised that I had developed Diabetes. Nope, not at all. What shocked me was the WHEN. I expected I would start dealing with this when I was in my 50’s or 60’s; I figured I had another 20 years of eating what I wanted before I had to worry about blood sugar. But an array of bad eating habits, inactivity, and family history to give it a boost brought my diagnosis crashing down a little early. In hindsight, I am really grateful. But at the time it just ticked me off royally.
I decided right away to…um…stretch the truth…just a little. I was dating for the first time in years, and I was afraid that the word “Diabetic” would scare him away. Plus his parents, if they heard the word “Diabetic,” might encourage him to look for another, healthier, girl. As for my family and friends? I feared condemnation, nagging, and worst of all, the dreaded “I told you so.” Besides, let’s be honest: I was ashamed. I was ashamed that I had let myself get into this condition, and I was just as ashamed that I had no idea how to get myself out.
So in the Spring of 2004, after that devastating chat with Dr. V, I told pretty much everyone that I had been diagnosed with “high blood sugar” – that I was borderline diabetic, but of course it was completely reversible – I just needed to lose a few pounds, walk a little more, no sweat…it’s all under control…really, all under control…just a little tweaking to do… riiiiiiiiiiight!
Liar, Liar, pants on fire!I told myself that this was my big “wake-up call,” the thing that would finally make me really change, and for some people, a diagnosis like this is exactly that. But the truth was that I was in serious denial. I was not just lying to my boyfriend, family, and friends. I was lying to myself, and the trouble with lying to yourself is that you tend to believe it!
I have to say: I did give it a good-faith effort at first – I went to Diabetes Education Class, joined the Y, tried to change my habits. Plus I got engaged in April 2004, so the prospect of wearing a wedding dress gave me a good push in the right direction (By the way, I did tell him the truth, long before we got married). I managed to lose 27 pounds that first year! And I maintained that weight until the Fall of 2007, when I had my real wake-up call and started losing weight again (story for later).
I call those first 27 pounds my "willpower weight" because a combination of external pressure and simply gritting my teeth (aaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggggghhhh!) was what lost those pounds. But I've got news for you, kids: willpower is not the way to lose weight (unless you are one of those annoying people who have 10 pounds to lose and thinks omigodiamSOFAT! Willpower might actually work in your case). Neither is external pressure the way to lose a significant amount of weight. Why? Because both willpower and external pressure are going to come and go. External pressure is completely out of your control, and although you can do things to encourage it (e.g. joining WW or asking friends for support), you can always escape external pressure if you want to badly enough. As for willpower? HA! It is no more possible to maintain willpower over the long term than it is to run a marathon at 6 minutes per mile. And willpower gets weaker with each subsequent "diet." This is why 95% of those who try to lose weight fail!*
Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bound and determined to be part of the 5%!
*Disclaimer: some believe 95% is an inaccurate statistic. I sure hope it is!
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