I hope the book made you feel like you're not alone. If you want a diet buddy for the journey ahead, please stop back by, and we can offer each other encouragement as we try to eat healthier.
It's a new year, and I'm looking forward to getting healthier and happier.
I don't know how much I weigh, and I've decided finding out probably won't be helpful to my psyche. So my strategy right now is not to focus on a number on the scale. Too much of my life has been ruled by that number. I'll be able to tell if I lose weight, so why let the number bring me down?
January 6, 2010
Starting Weight: 244.5
So yesterday I had my doctor's appointment, picked up four honkin big canisters of protein powder, discovered my starting weight was 244.5, left wildly optimistic, and went to eat lunch at a restaurant with my mother. This won't be bad, I thought. I haven't really been hungry lately, so no sweat. A divorce, a move into a new house, and an increased workload at my job have made me too fatigued to eat. That's why the diet sounded so good. No effort trying to find food that sounds tasty when it's been such an effort lately; I just have a shake and go on with my life.
And then there was today. I don't know how I'm going to do this. Like many a contestant on Survivor, I am gagging on this stuff. And it really isn't horrible. Really. Aside from a chalky taste to the vanilla powder, it's fairly benign flavor-wise. I, who mocked those delicate flowers on the reality show for puking, am being paid back in spades. Gagging galore for no good reason.
At least I am not crazy hungry, today at least. But so far the highlights have been the chicken bouillon I am allowed and the jello. I find myself asking, now was Weight Watchers all that difficult, you putz?
I also just totaled up all the liquid I am supposed to consume for the day. Egad. I have five protein drinks (8 oz of liquid each), and I am supposed to drink 8 cups of water plus 1 extra for every 25 pounds I am overweight. Ergo, at 100 pounds overweight, I must chug an extra four glasses. That's 17 cups of fluid everyday or I risk fun side-effects like headache, constipation, dizziness, fatigue and a quick trip to crazy town. Consult me in a few weeks for a map of every bathroom in the St. Louis region.
But the truth is, I could cheat on Weight Watchers. The guidelines here are clear. You don't eat. Anything. No extra spoonfuls. No quick bites. No chewy goodness.
Now the payoff is quick weight loss, of course. But here at the dawn of the diet, I see no results. I am like every impatient dieter who works hard (for all 12 hours I have been at it) and then runs to the scale to see if I've lost 10 pounds already. Of course, aint gonna happen unless The Biggest Loser kidnaps me.
The diet is a medically supervised program through Barnes Hospital in St. Louis called Medical. I can't find squat on people who've had experience with this diet, so I thought others who go on it might want to hear about mine. I probably won't publish this blog until the next school semester ends (I am a teacher and I don't really want my current set of students this knowledgeable about my life).
Anyhoo, let the whining begin.