In this microwave world where we can cook a meal in 4 minutes and find the answer to almost any question in seconds by searching online, why does it take so damn long to lose weight? On The Biggest Loser they lose 30 pounds in a week, so why is it that I'm told "2 to 3 pounds a week is what you should aim for." I don't want to aim for 2 to 3 pounds a week; I want to lose all 60 pounds RIGHT NOW! You'd think that by now there would be a pill or a drink or a chant or something that would work like magic to get weight off. We can have our eyes, heart, lungs, kidney's transplanted, so come on Doctor people get on this! If losing weight were easier and faster there would be less overweight people, our insurance premiums would go down, over all health would be better and we'd all spend less on health care. The entire Nation, even the World is obsessed with BMIs and teen-aged obesity so why isn't it a medical emergency to find a cure?
Obviously I weighed today. And the scale hasn't moved since Sunday. I've lost about 18 pounds in 2.5 months so that's about 2 pounds a week. That is average and I am NOT average. I do not want to be average, especially when it comes to weight loss. Granted, I've really only been seriously exercising for 3 weeks and I've lost 13 of the 18 pounds in those three weeks. So if you look at it like that I'm exceeding expectations and up to 4.3 pounds a week. Still seems like a small amount considering all of the things I've given up; wine, cheese, lounging on the sofa with my coffee on Saturday mornings, my lunch hour, snacking while watching The Bachelor for two hours on Monday night. Chinese take out on Friday nights... I mean, what more does a girl have to do?
I know in the end it will all be worthwhile and I have my high points. Like this morning. I put on a pair of pants I haven't worn in a while and they were a little loose. Just a little, but they had just been washed. That was a great moment for me. The low point far outweighed the high point however, when I stepped on the scale.
For so much of my life, all of it really, food has played a major role. Growing up in a Southern family in the Northern Neck of Virginia I was no stranger to Crisco oil, bacon fat, ground beef, fried chicken, mashed potatoes with real butter and cream and crabs, all kinds of crabs. Those are my comfort foods. Sunday dinner was always an event at my house. All of my and my brother's friends wanted to have Sunday dinner with us. It was always fried chicken, (my Mom made the BEST fried chicken I've ever had - way better than The Colonial) mashed potatoes with gravy, homemade on both counts, green beans slow cooked with bacon fat and rolls with real butter of course. There was usually dessert too; chocolate cake, lemon pie or pound cake. At first writing, I left out the dessert my mother is most kwon for; home made apple pie, with the best home made crust you've ever tasted. A friend reminded me that she put cheddar cheese in this recipe (of course she did). Flat out amazing.
That wasn't my favorite meal though. Hands down my favorite was Thursday night's menu. Hamburgers and home made french fries with lots of ketchup. My Mother made amazing hamburgers. She could make one pound of ground beef, not the lean kind that you can buy today, go a long way (once she fed 10 people off one pound of ground beef this way) by adding white bread, onions, eggs, Carnation milk and ketchup. Add a piece of sharp cheddar cheese, a bun and mayonnaise and mustard and you have pure magic. I can taste them right now and the memory alone is making me gain five pounds...We had a strict rule about dinner. Everyone had to sit at the table together and it was the time when we asked my father for things. Of course we would always ask Mom first and she would say, "ask your father at the dinner table tonight". It was the one time we all were together and everyone was in a good mood because we were surrounded with wonderful food. That is until the questions came; "can I go out with (insert bad choice of a date here)", "can I borrow the car for the weekend to drive to (insert bad choice of a place to travel on a weekend here), "can I have (insert more money than my parents could afford to give us here) for a new (insert some piece of music equipment or clothes we didn't need here)".
Then there are the bad memories of food. My parents decided one year that they wanted to raise hogs, not the two-wheeled kind, but the pink furry kind. I guess it was what all of the neighbors were doing. Anyway, having the hogs was cool. I made best friends with one and named him "Pinky". You know this doesn't end well, right? Once the bad deed was done and I found out that "Pinky" was part of the menu I became ill at every meal. My brother who loved to tease would say, no matter what kind of meat we were eating, "poor Pinky" and I'd lose it, literally. Could explain why I don't eat pork any more.
As a grown up I have always enjoyed entertaining and food plays a major role in that as well. I continued the dinner rule, sans question and answer time, with my own children and created menus for the week so my kids would know which night to bring friends for their favorite "Debbie Meal". Sunday dinners were always an event when my daughters were home because that's when I experimented and made dessert. I don't use oil, butter or cream in any of my recipes and I cook very little meat, but the end result is the same - gathering around a table enjoying a good meal with the people you love.
Now that I've empty-nested, food is playing an even larger role because I have to spend so much time thinking about what I can't eat, what I need to add to my diet, how much I can have of each ingredient and how much I'd really love to have a big fat piece of cheese....
Obviously I weighed today. And the scale hasn't moved since Sunday. I've lost about 18 pounds in 2.5 months so that's about 2 pounds a week. That is average and I am NOT average. I do not want to be average, especially when it comes to weight loss. Granted, I've really only been seriously exercising for 3 weeks and I've lost 13 of the 18 pounds in those three weeks. So if you look at it like that I'm exceeding expectations and up to 4.3 pounds a week. Still seems like a small amount considering all of the things I've given up; wine, cheese, lounging on the sofa with my coffee on Saturday mornings, my lunch hour, snacking while watching The Bachelor for two hours on Monday night. Chinese take out on Friday nights... I mean, what more does a girl have to do?
I know in the end it will all be worthwhile and I have my high points. Like this morning. I put on a pair of pants I haven't worn in a while and they were a little loose. Just a little, but they had just been washed. That was a great moment for me. The low point far outweighed the high point however, when I stepped on the scale.
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| Thanksgiving Fish! |
That wasn't my favorite meal though. Hands down my favorite was Thursday night's menu. Hamburgers and home made french fries with lots of ketchup. My Mother made amazing hamburgers. She could make one pound of ground beef, not the lean kind that you can buy today, go a long way (once she fed 10 people off one pound of ground beef this way) by adding white bread, onions, eggs, Carnation milk and ketchup. Add a piece of sharp cheddar cheese, a bun and mayonnaise and mustard and you have pure magic. I can taste them right now and the memory alone is making me gain five pounds...We had a strict rule about dinner. Everyone had to sit at the table together and it was the time when we asked my father for things. Of course we would always ask Mom first and she would say, "ask your father at the dinner table tonight". It was the one time we all were together and everyone was in a good mood because we were surrounded with wonderful food. That is until the questions came; "can I go out with (insert bad choice of a date here)", "can I borrow the car for the weekend to drive to (insert bad choice of a place to travel on a weekend here), "can I have (insert more money than my parents could afford to give us here) for a new (insert some piece of music equipment or clothes we didn't need here)".
Then there are the bad memories of food. My parents decided one year that they wanted to raise hogs, not the two-wheeled kind, but the pink furry kind. I guess it was what all of the neighbors were doing. Anyway, having the hogs was cool. I made best friends with one and named him "Pinky". You know this doesn't end well, right? Once the bad deed was done and I found out that "Pinky" was part of the menu I became ill at every meal. My brother who loved to tease would say, no matter what kind of meat we were eating, "poor Pinky" and I'd lose it, literally. Could explain why I don't eat pork any more.
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| Snacks that spoil a diet... |
Now that I've empty-nested, food is playing an even larger role because I have to spend so much time thinking about what I can't eat, what I need to add to my diet, how much I can have of each ingredient and how much I'd really love to have a big fat piece of cheese....
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