I'm tired of talking about weight. So I'll just say this....
Alice's weight as of the 1st Monday: 0 lbs.
Alice's weight as of the 2nd Monday: -5 lbs.
Alice's weight as of the 3rd Monday: -12 lbs.
Alice's weight as of the 4th Monday: -14 lbs.
Tomorrow, I will write a read post about something substantive. You have my word.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
DYJCMF: End of Week 2
I have no idea how this happened.
I have been eating enough -- fruit for breakfast, soup or salad for lunch, and chicken/fish and veggies for dinner. I consume far more handfuls of nuts and raisins than are recommended by dieticians. I have cut out alcohol, but apart from that, I haven't removed anything in its entirety from my diet. I've even had a bite here and there of bread, pasta and chocolate. I haven't run an inch, or done any exercise apart from walking, since the half marathon.
Despite all of this, somehow, my scale told me on yesterday's weekly weigh-in...
THAT I HAVE LOST 7 MORE LBS!
WTF? Is my scale broken? Has there been some strange seismic shift in gravitational pull over the past week? Has one of my limbs fallen off without me noticing? I don't get it. It's a complete and utter mystery to me how this has happened. I was aiming, realistically for 2, 3 if I was lucky. But 7?
Not that I'm complaining. First of all, let's face it--I'm kicking Blake's ass and homeboy better step it up a notch if he doesn't want to foot my fine dining bill come mid-May's trip to Chicago.
Secondly, suddenly I can go shopping in my closet, trying on things I haven't worn in a while and marvelling at the fact that doggonit, they fit.
Thirdly, I've finally shed those pesky 10 lbs that I gained on my move over here that really had NO BUSINESS being on my body in the first place.
And fourth, and most importantly, I have arrived at THE TIPPING POINT...you know that number on your scale that counts as the low end of your average, and you feel generally okay there, but if you push past it and continue to lose, then suddenly you feel light, and fancy and free!
So in other words, the next 5-10 should be a doozy.
Update:
Alice's weight as of the 1st Monday: 0 lbs.
Alice's weight as of the 2nd Monday: -5 lbs.
Alice's weight as of the 3rd Monday: -12 lbs.
I have been eating enough -- fruit for breakfast, soup or salad for lunch, and chicken/fish and veggies for dinner. I consume far more handfuls of nuts and raisins than are recommended by dieticians. I have cut out alcohol, but apart from that, I haven't removed anything in its entirety from my diet. I've even had a bite here and there of bread, pasta and chocolate. I haven't run an inch, or done any exercise apart from walking, since the half marathon.
Despite all of this, somehow, my scale told me on yesterday's weekly weigh-in...
THAT I HAVE LOST 7 MORE LBS!
WTF? Is my scale broken? Has there been some strange seismic shift in gravitational pull over the past week? Has one of my limbs fallen off without me noticing? I don't get it. It's a complete and utter mystery to me how this has happened. I was aiming, realistically for 2, 3 if I was lucky. But 7?
Not that I'm complaining. First of all, let's face it--I'm kicking Blake's ass and homeboy better step it up a notch if he doesn't want to foot my fine dining bill come mid-May's trip to Chicago.
Secondly, suddenly I can go shopping in my closet, trying on things I haven't worn in a while and marvelling at the fact that doggonit, they fit.
Thirdly, I've finally shed those pesky 10 lbs that I gained on my move over here that really had NO BUSINESS being on my body in the first place.
And fourth, and most importantly, I have arrived at THE TIPPING POINT...you know that number on your scale that counts as the low end of your average, and you feel generally okay there, but if you push past it and continue to lose, then suddenly you feel light, and fancy and free!
So in other words, the next 5-10 should be a doozy.
Update:
Alice's weight as of the 1st Monday: 0 lbs.
Alice's weight as of the 2nd Monday: -5 lbs.
Alice's weight as of the 3rd Monday: -12 lbs.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
DYJCMF: Day 10. The weight of the weight on my shoulders.
My mom left this morning. After a week of trekking all over the capital in my wake, of seeing the sights, and of gamely fine dining with a dieter, she bid me farewell to fend for myself on the mean and lonely streets of big scary London. Boo hoo.
Not only am I sad that I have lost my walking companion and the only person within a 30 mile radius who has known me longer than a New York minute, but I’m also bummed that I no longer have a major distraction from the DYJCMF diet. When my parents were here, I only thought about food 40% of the time. Now, it’s more like 80% (apologies to my employer).
That said, I have to admit that it’s getting slightly easier. The whole stomach shrinking thing, while probably a myth, seems to ring true in this case, and I also have boatloads of energy now that I’m over the initial telltale sugar detox period. At the same time, however, this week I’m also working harder than ever at cutting the fat, so despite feeling slightly more full from less food, I’m still dangerously close to gnawing on my arm. (In my defence, Alex gave me this perfume for Easter and it smells really good and vaguely of vanilla, so my arm is slightly more appetizing than usual.)
So now, as I progress into week 2 without my parents, life is becoming all about distractions. After all, it’s really just a mind game, right? My solutions are (in no particular order): taking lots of walks; writing painfully redundant blog posts; drinking gallons of tea and pretending it's cookies; and torturing Alex with pointless discussions about nothing. Any other suggestions are welcome.
Not only am I sad that I have lost my walking companion and the only person within a 30 mile radius who has known me longer than a New York minute, but I’m also bummed that I no longer have a major distraction from the DYJCMF diet. When my parents were here, I only thought about food 40% of the time. Now, it’s more like 80% (apologies to my employer).
That said, I have to admit that it’s getting slightly easier. The whole stomach shrinking thing, while probably a myth, seems to ring true in this case, and I also have boatloads of energy now that I’m over the initial telltale sugar detox period. At the same time, however, this week I’m also working harder than ever at cutting the fat, so despite feeling slightly more full from less food, I’m still dangerously close to gnawing on my arm. (In my defence, Alex gave me this perfume for Easter and it smells really good and vaguely of vanilla, so my arm is slightly more appetizing than usual.)
So now, as I progress into week 2 without my parents, life is becoming all about distractions. After all, it’s really just a mind game, right? My solutions are (in no particular order): taking lots of walks; writing painfully redundant blog posts; drinking gallons of tea and pretending it's cookies; and torturing Alex with pointless discussions about nothing. Any other suggestions are welcome.
Monday, April 13, 2009
DYJCMF: The End of Week 1
As you might recall, Blake and I have agreed, in the interest of being fair and relatively un-humiliated, we are both assigning our respetive starting weights a symbolic 0 and going from there. Weigh ins are on Mondays, and so, without further ado......
Alice's weight as of last Monday: 0 lbs.
Alice's weight as of this Monday: -5 lbs.
Granted, they are five lbs that never should have been on my body in the first place, but still. Considering I spent the whole week in a restaurant, I'm feeling pretty damn good about that.
Alice's weight as of last Monday: 0 lbs.
Alice's weight as of this Monday: -5 lbs.
Hell yeah.
Granted, they are five lbs that never should have been on my body in the first place, but still. Considering I spent the whole week in a restaurant, I'm feeling pretty damn good about that.
DYJCMF: Day 7. The Peeps War
Tis Easter today, which of course means that the Easter Bunny, the good folks at Cadbury, and Jesus (not necessarily in that order) want me to eat some candy. And not just regular old candy, but the kind that vaguely resembles egg yolks, rabbits in day suits, and fluffy neon chicks.
I am a woman on a mission, however, and no amount of pastel food coloring, creme injecting, or resurrecting from the dead (not necessarily in that order) will sway me from my end game--to beat Blake at the DYJCMF Challenge.
With my parents in town this week, I have schlepped from one London fine dining establishment to the next, facing each formidable culinary opponent with staunch determination to merely consume a quarter of the plate, to order the lowest-cal thing on the menu, to reject all offers of alcoholic beverage. I have prevailed thus far; the Easter candy is merely the latest foe to be defeated by my steely resolve.
Fortunately, I have also been distracted from food by today's celeb sightings---Kim Cattrall dining with two friends several tables away from me at lunch and afterwards, Dame Judi Dench dressed in her French Revolution finest in a performance of Madame de Sade. In the absense of real candy, the "eye" variety can be surprising satiating.
Tomorrow marks the first week's weigh-in. Was it all worth it? Til tomorrow, dear readers. Til tomorrow.
I am a woman on a mission, however, and no amount of pastel food coloring, creme injecting, or resurrecting from the dead (not necessarily in that order) will sway me from my end game--to beat Blake at the DYJCMF Challenge.
With my parents in town this week, I have schlepped from one London fine dining establishment to the next, facing each formidable culinary opponent with staunch determination to merely consume a quarter of the plate, to order the lowest-cal thing on the menu, to reject all offers of alcoholic beverage. I have prevailed thus far; the Easter candy is merely the latest foe to be defeated by my steely resolve.
Fortunately, I have also been distracted from food by today's celeb sightings---Kim Cattrall dining with two friends several tables away from me at lunch and afterwards, Dame Judi Dench dressed in her French Revolution finest in a performance of Madame de Sade. In the absense of real candy, the "eye" variety can be surprising satiating.
Tomorrow marks the first week's weigh-in. Was it all worth it? Til tomorrow, dear readers. Til tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
DYJCMF: Day 3. A Modern Day Parable.
When I was about 4 years old, a grocery store cart hit me in the face and put me in the hospital. There I was, a little kid shopping with my mom, riding along on the bottom rail of a seemingly innocent run-of-the-mill metal cart and next thing I knew, I was lying on my back in the middle of the frozen foods aisle bleeding profusely from a huge gash above my left eye.
Although I can't really recall the details, I imagine myself trapped under the evil cart with produce in my hair, milk pooling next to my head, eggs smashed on my chest, stay-at-home moms screaming, and someone on the loudspeaker declaring, "Clean-up in aisle four."
Though it only resulted in a few stitches, if you look closely, I still have the scar just above my eyebrow. To my four-year-old self, the injury merely represented my begrudging acceptance of my mom's oft-made "shopping-carts-aren't-meant-to-be-ridden" warning.
Little did I know that today, the injury and its consequent scar would come to represent a much bigger issue: the beginning of a lifelong love-hate relationship with food.
In other words, food is all fun and games until somebody gets hurt/fat.
Although I can't really recall the details, I imagine myself trapped under the evil cart with produce in my hair, milk pooling next to my head, eggs smashed on my chest, stay-at-home moms screaming, and someone on the loudspeaker declaring, "Clean-up in aisle four."
Though it only resulted in a few stitches, if you look closely, I still have the scar just above my eyebrow. To my four-year-old self, the injury merely represented my begrudging acceptance of my mom's oft-made "shopping-carts-aren't-meant-to-be-ridden" warning.
Little did I know that today, the injury and its consequent scar would come to represent a much bigger issue: the beginning of a lifelong love-hate relationship with food.
In other words, food is all fun and games until somebody gets hurt/fat.
Monday, April 6, 2009
DYJCMF: Day 1
I'm hungry. Already. In my defense, I ran a half-marathon in Edinburgh yesterday so the need to feed is stronger than usual. But still, it's not even 8 am where Blake lives, and I'm already ravenous. The grapefruit and salad I have eaten today have already left my stomach in search of some nutrient-deficient part of my body and only an empty growly cavern remains (what? is that not how digestion works?). To boot, some guy at work brought in some food to share from wherever he was on holiday and even though I have no idea what it is, I do know that it is 1) a bread product 2) covered in some kind of sugarly glaze and 3) looking at me seductively.
But this is all par for the course, and I'm up for the challenge (and whatever other sports metaphor you want to throw in there).
First, however, I need your help. My parents are in town this week so I'll just do my best eating-wise. But starting next Monday, I have 5 weeks up for grabs. Any week-long diet you want me to try will be considered. If I select yours, I will even name that week after you, and naturally, due to my extensive readership and international acclaim, this will no doubt motivate you. So come on. Cough it up.
But this is all par for the course, and I'm up for the challenge (and whatever other sports metaphor you want to throw in there).
First, however, I need your help. My parents are in town this week so I'll just do my best eating-wise. But starting next Monday, I have 5 weeks up for grabs. Any week-long diet you want me to try will be considered. If I select yours, I will even name that week after you, and naturally, due to my extensive readership and international acclaim, this will no doubt motivate you. So come on. Cough it up.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Did you just call me fat?
There is nothing more satisfyingly awkward than looking someone in the eye and asking, “Did you just call me fat?” No matter how innocuous their prior statement, no matter how skinny you might be, no matter how comfortable and familiar your relationship, the person on the receiving end of that question will inevitably squirm and fall all over themselves to ensure you that they did not, in fact, infer that you’re in possession of extra poundage.
My friend Amy once made a 5-year-old girl cry by delivering that withering line. If I have the details right, she was visiting her former boyfriend’s family on a camping trip. When they got there, his niece grabbed Amy’s hand to give her a tour of the camp site. When they arrived in front a dodgy looking chair, the niece said as a precaution to her older friend, “Don’t sit there. It’s got a wobbly leg.” Naturally, Amy turned to her, looked her squarely in the eye, and said, “Did you just call me fat?” As mentioned above, usually a person on the receiving end of that accusation would just proclaim, “Oh no no! Of course not! I’M the one who would break the chair. No, not you, you skinny little thing!” But of course, this kid was caught off guard, and is FIVE YEARS OLD, so down came the tears.
Although I don’t advocate terrorizing small children, many of you know I do delight in a good, “Did you just call me fat?” story. And so, at the dawn of my New Blog Endeavor, I’m going to borrow the line that has brought me such joy.
Presenting….
The “Did You Just Call Me Fat?” Challenge
For the next month and a half, my friend Blake and I are going to have a weight loss competition. Whoever loses the most weight by May 18 wins $100. That’s 100 U.S. dollars paid by one of us to the other for shedding as much poundage as poss.
Why are we doing this? Because we could both stand to drop a few el bees, save a little money and generate some fodder for our blogs.
Why should you care? Well, you shouldn’t, but if you do, you’ll get some very regular updates to both the OckleShow and Blake’s blog. Two for the price of one—what could be better?
What will we talk about? Leaving no stone unturned (that will be punnier if you’re a Brit), we will detail the lengths (and widths) we’ll go to win the competition. Plus, I’ll be sure to make it interesting by trying out all kids of crazy techniques—maple syrup diet, all blue foods diet, etc—purely for the sake of your entertainment. So if you have any suggestions for ways I can torture my body, let me know. I’m game.
The DYJCMF Challenge begins Monday, 6 April at 9 am GMT sharp. More details will be provided then. Don’t forget to tune in. It should be a big fat riot.
My friend Amy once made a 5-year-old girl cry by delivering that withering line. If I have the details right, she was visiting her former boyfriend’s family on a camping trip. When they got there, his niece grabbed Amy’s hand to give her a tour of the camp site. When they arrived in front a dodgy looking chair, the niece said as a precaution to her older friend, “Don’t sit there. It’s got a wobbly leg.” Naturally, Amy turned to her, looked her squarely in the eye, and said, “Did you just call me fat?” As mentioned above, usually a person on the receiving end of that accusation would just proclaim, “Oh no no! Of course not! I’M the one who would break the chair. No, not you, you skinny little thing!” But of course, this kid was caught off guard, and is FIVE YEARS OLD, so down came the tears.
Although I don’t advocate terrorizing small children, many of you know I do delight in a good, “Did you just call me fat?” story. And so, at the dawn of my New Blog Endeavor, I’m going to borrow the line that has brought me such joy.
Presenting….
The “Did You Just Call Me Fat?” Challenge
For the next month and a half, my friend Blake and I are going to have a weight loss competition. Whoever loses the most weight by May 18 wins $100. That’s 100 U.S. dollars paid by one of us to the other for shedding as much poundage as poss.
Why are we doing this? Because we could both stand to drop a few el bees, save a little money and generate some fodder for our blogs.
Why should you care? Well, you shouldn’t, but if you do, you’ll get some very regular updates to both the OckleShow and Blake’s blog. Two for the price of one—what could be better?
What will we talk about? Leaving no stone unturned (that will be punnier if you’re a Brit), we will detail the lengths (and widths) we’ll go to win the competition. Plus, I’ll be sure to make it interesting by trying out all kids of crazy techniques—maple syrup diet, all blue foods diet, etc—purely for the sake of your entertainment. So if you have any suggestions for ways I can torture my body, let me know. I’m game.
The DYJCMF Challenge begins Monday, 6 April at 9 am GMT sharp. More details will be provided then. Don’t forget to tune in. It should be a big fat riot.
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