It seems I struck a nerve (I kind of wish it had been the funny bone, but oh, well) with my thoughts about aging not-so-gracefully yesterday. I even got a spam comment! I haven't had one of those in a long time. (I still get them at Shrinking Knitter. Clearly the spambots don't read the content there, or they'd figure out that no one writes there any more.)
So we seem to be in agreement that, like the phases of the moon, motivation waxes and wanes. Of all the tips-and-tricks suggested by successful weight-loss maintainers, the one that seems to be most closely aligned with motivation is some kind of support system. Weight Watchers began when one woman invited some friends to her living room and asked them if they'd like to help each other lose weight. Surprise, surprise, it worked.
(I was an early adopter of Weight Watchers. I can still remember the charts we filled out, what we had to eat, what we weren't allowed to eat, how often we could have, say, cheese [no more than 4 oz. hard cheese/week] or eggs [also limited to 4 per week] or mayonnaise [never].)
I lost 38 pounds on Weight Watchers and eventually became a meeting leader. And like so many former WW members, I fell off the wagon, gained it all – and more – back and here we are, 40 years later, agonizing over the same old thing.
This is actually getting kind of horrifying for me. I mean, 40 years? That's so sad.
People who relapse after many years of sobriety often say the beginning of the end was when they stopped going to meetings. There's that support factor again.
I don't really want to go back to WW. I've gone back half a dozen times over the years, and it just doesn't click for me any more. Maybe it's the been-there/done-that aspect. Maybe it's that no matter how many times I went back, I wan't losing any weight. And I was paying them every week to not lose any weight.
Perhaps my years of living in the Middle of Nowhere have dampened my desire, or even my ability, to interact with other living, breathing human beings. I'm pretty good with dogs, and with some of my neighbors. But I've really turned into a loner. I volunteer once a week at a prison. I'm president of the local Democratic women's group, which meets once a month. Usually. I work part-time from April to July potting plants at a local nursery – no sales work involved. And that's the extent of my contact with the outside world.
|Yesterday's breakfast. Looks|
yucky, tasted great!
Maybe it's exercise, which I'm slowly but surely incorporating back into my daily routine. Plantar fasciitis is a bitch, and takes a long time to get over, but I have been able to walk or train on the elliptical every day since Christmas afternoon. I'm going to do a strength-training routine in addition to the elliptical today. I know, crazy, right? Hey, if you're not living on the edge …
So. No conclusions. I'm thinking of offering myself a reward based not on the number of pounds lost, but on the number of days I am consistent in following my admittedly loose plan to get healthy and fit. Oh, all right, and thin. Ner. All suggestions for rewards gratefully accepted. I don't need a darned thing.
Here's the plan:
- Journal what I eat
- Eat between 1400 and 1700 calories per day
- Do a minimum of 45 minutes of intentional activity daily
- Strength-train Monday, Wednesday and Friday
- Weigh myself every day (for data, not judgment)
- Drink 48 to 64 ounces of water a day
- Three meals, one snack mid-afternoon if I'm hungry
- Pay attention to hunger signals/don't eat for entertainment
I invite you to join me – and it looks as though many of you are ready, willing and able to do just that. I further invite you to support me, with comments or private e-mails [shrinkingknitter AT gmail DOT com] whenever you like. But especially whenever you catch me slacking off. I'm not going to repeat the October exercise of posting my stats every day (although that was very effective and I might revisit it later). But you'll be able to read between the lines if I'm not following through. I thank you in advance.