The guilt wagon.

I'm really good at spending so much time thinking about doing something that I have myself convinced that I am actually doing whatever it is.

I've done this with writing. Every now and then I go on these mental tangents during which I am convinced I have a writer trapped inside me. I think about writing books. I read books about writing. I even come up with writing schedules for myself. But do I write? Um, not really.

It has happened with reading, too. Big plans to read lots of books. Or going to graduate school.

The list goes on.

The truth, though, is that I am not really doing those things. As much as I think I want to, there's very little action taken to achieve these goals.

I'm working on becoming an active person. Yes, yes, the health and fitness thing, too, but that's not exactly what I mean. Though that is definitely related. I mean to say that I want to be the kind of person who chooses action over inaction. I'm pretty sure I'm the kind of person that people routinely want to grab by the shoulders, shake, and say, "Stop talking about it and just do it!"

Now, I have to admit that I have done very well at doing the actions necessary to get this weight-loss journey going. I didn't sit around and hem and haw about this one. I just did it. (Okay, so maybe I had sat around hemming and hawing for a decade or so. Whatever.) Six months ago, I decided that I could do this, and I started making good eating choices.

Sixty pounds later, I'm starting to see an old habit forming. These days, I feel like I'm thinking and talking about this lifestyle change more than I'm actually doing it. Granted, I am making better choices than I would have six months ago. I'm eating healthier and eating less. I think before I eat. I have formed great habits.

But I see them crumbling a little bit. My resolve is slipping. I make bad choices. The only difference between six months ago and now is that I know I'm making a bad choice when I do. I'm conscious of it. I feel guilt about it.

I don't want to be that person who says she's on a diet, but instead of eating well, she shovels in the unhealthy stuff all the while saying, "I really shouldn't be eating this."

That is incredibly obnoxious.

But that's who I've felt like lately. And it occurred to me yesterday that it's the very same as talking about doing something, but not actually doing it, like writing. Those days when I fall off the wagon and talk about getting back on it? I'm really just off the wagon, as much as I like to visualize myself on it.

I don't want to be on a diet, though. I don't want to be on a wagon. That's where the guilt comes from. I don't want to feel guilty for making bad choices. It seems silly.

I have to forgive myself and move on. I have to look back at what I've accomplished so far, which is a lot, and realize that I can do better than this wallowing. I am better than this. I have to grab myself by the shoulders, shake, and say, "Stop talking about it and just do it!"

Side note: Jack over at Jack Sh*t, Gettin' Fit is an awesome (entertaining, inspirational, hilarious, truthful) blogger, and today's post may or may not have something to do with my own.

Start ramble.

I woke up at 7:30 and went to the morning Weight Watchers meeting. My meeting is at a local church, and the afternoon meeting wasn't held this week because of VBS. I saw one guy I know at weigh-in. I was surprised that I was the only person from our group that came for the meeting. I guess people have real lives and can't just hang out for a morning meeting. Anyway, nothing against these morning people, but I much prefer the afternoon meeting. We're a lot more boisterous, and well, we are a family. Maybe that's too strong of a word. But I feel like my afternoon people care about me, and I care about them. I missed them today.

I missed them asking how I did on the scale. (Up 1.6 pounds.) I missed them telling me it's okay. (So I told myself.)

I'm not exactly sure why I gained this week, but I'm not surprised, really. I definitely stayed within my points, but I don't think I made the best choices. It was one of those hungry weeks. I ate and ate and ate and was never satisfied. I ate lots of chips this week. It's time to make friends with filling (high fiber) foods again.

And I don't know what is up with the getting up in the middle of the night and eating thing. I mean, I tracked whatever I ate, but it's not healthy or characteristic of me.

I went grocery shopping after the meeting. Lots of fruits and vegetables. I bought a whole pineapple! Such a better deal than buying the already-cut stuff. Cheaper and more fruit, albeit a pain in the butt to cut up. Also trying to rekindle my love of bell peppers. The yellow ones are so sweet. And nectarines! There's nothing like a ripe nectarine.

I have to start cooking more and eating fresh produce. That should be easy considering it's summer. I've just been lazy.

I'm also trying to move more. It's been too hot to do anything outside. As if I would have anyway... So I've been trying to get at least 30 minutes in on the Wii Fit each day. Rhythm Boxing is where it's at. Haven't done that yet today, but the day's not over.

I've really been slacking on the water intake. I have been drinking way too much soda. Yeah, it's diet and all, but I need water.

Okay, so this has just been a jumble. Let's recap in the form of a bulleted list of goals:

• Drink less pop and more water.
• Eat more fruits and vegetables.
• Get 30 minutes of activity in each day.
• Cook some new recipes.
• Track everything.

I need more specific goals, don't I?

Some victories:

• I went canoeing last weekend. It's nice being semi-active and doing things that I wouldn't have imagined myself doing before.
• I bought a pair of size 20 jeans! This is super exciting.
• I successfully fought off an eat-because-I'm-bored moment the other day by knitting. I'm working on super-simple baby blanket for the new baby in the family.

End ramble.

Compare and contrast.

I have a hard time seeing the change in my body as I lose weight. Other people can see it, but I just can't. I can feel it. It's hard to deny that when I can take off some of my jeans without even unbuttoning them. (Yes, it's time to go jean shopping.) When I did some sun salutations on the Wii today, I noticed how much easier it was to touch my toes than when I first started doing them. But when I look in the mirror, I just see me. The same me I see every day.



Today, though, I had to get a new driver's license. (Something about having moved to a different county and also registering a new vehicle. Yadda yadda.) I was all prepared. I was going to tell them my real weight, even though I know they don't print it on the license anymore and even though my actual current weight is about the same as my false previous weight. I also had enough foresight to snap a picture of the old license before I handed it over to the lady behind the desk.



She didn't ask for my weight, though, because the license wasn't actually expired. My new one is just a duplicate for the new county, she said. When she threw out the word duplicate, I was afraid I wasn't going to get to take a new picture. I was about to ask if I could take a new one when she prompted me to sit down in front of the camera.






So, uh, yeah. I can see what people mean. There is definitely a difference.


I can also see that I am still no good at smiling for pictures.

Uh, did I do that?

I'm not really sure how this happens. I go for a couple of weeks, barely losing weight or (more recently) gaining a bit, and then bam! I lose an ungodly amount in one week. When I weighed in today, I'd lost 8.2 pounds. I have never lost that much in one week, not even that first week when I lost seven-something. Maybe I should be excited, and overall, I am. I have now lost 64.2 pounds. (Holy crap, that's awesome! Like, more than 20% of my starting weight!) I don't want to seem ungrateful to myself or the program, but these drastic drops in weight freak me out a little. It's not supposed to happen like this, is it?

I am not depriving myself. Most days I eat close to, if not all of or more than, my daily points target. This week, I ate almost all of my 35 extra weekly points, thanks to my misbehavior at a friend's True Blood premier party. I ate out almost every day, some days twice. I have done practically no physical activity, unless you count that one little Wii Fit session this afternoon. That sounds like a week that should result in a loss of a pound, maybe two. But eight?!

I don't know. I'm not yo-yoing, so I guess that's healthy. My mom suggested that it might just be a big boost after a plateau. Maybe. This wasn't really a plateau, though, was it? It wasn't like I was doing everything right and my body refused to budge. I just spent a week trying to act better. Maybe this is my body's reward, and next week, maybe the change won't be so drastic.

Something I'm thinking about: When I calculate my daily points target, it asks if I spend most of the day sitting, standing, etc. When school was in session, I always marked that I stand most of the day. Now that summer's here, I am certainly lounging around more than anything else. Guess I should change my answer to that activity question, huh? The thing is, though, that would result in my previously having 33 daily points to now having 30 daily points. I lost one point because of the weight change, and then they would take two points away because I'm not as active. Something tells me that lowering my points that quickly isn't a good idea. Maybe I should just drop to 32 this week and see how it goes.

My biggest challenge yet.

Summer.

For me, it officially started on June 2, almost two weeks ago. That's when life lost all semblance of structure or routine, and I promptly lost the ability to discern what day of the week it is. I don't think it is a coincidence that, for the past two weeks, I've gained weight.

Two pounds.

I know two pounds is not much. I know. But it's not the right direction the scale is supposed to be going. And really, it's not about the scale. It's my attitude. For two weeks (or more, if I'm honest), I have cut loose. Maybe I've gotten cocky. There have been too many things to celebrate (really?), too many outings that I've let go unmonitored (why?!). I didn't track the entirety of Memorial Day weekend. FOUR DAYS. What has gotten into me?

And I know that people say I shouldn't be so hard on myself. But here's the thing: I am an excuse maker. This is something I know about myself. I can talk myself into or out of (usually out of) anything. And if I let myself make an excuse for one thing (event, person, meal), I am going to let myself make an excuse for every other thing. And the next thing I'll know, I will have excused myself from 365 days' worth of healthy behavior. Because there are an infinite number of excuses in my arsenal, and no day is immune.

So this week, I have been trying to cut back on the excuses. I haven't exactly succeeded each day, but I am doing better. I am trying to reestablish a little bit of structure and routine. I am learning to say no. I am tracking everything, every day. I am realizing that I need (and have) friends who don't help me make excuses for myself, and I am grateful for them.

I want to be healthy all of the time. Not just when it's easy or convenient or just an ordinary day. See, there's something I'm starting to realize: There's no such thing as just an ordinary day.