Let's be losers!

Looking better last year ... sigh.

I have a secret: I'm chunky. Not full-blow fat again but definitely soft. Actually, the world would probably consider me a buffet-lover with the girth I've got going, but by suburban mom standards - in a Midwestern suburb, I should clarify - I'm just average. Yes, the 15+ pounds I put on in my half-term pregnancy are still here four months later. I could blame the fact that I didn't have breastfeeding to help me shed those stubborn pounds, or I could contribute my apathy to physical and mental issues caused by such a traumatic experience, but the real culprit is the snack aisle. I mean, with so many choices out there - sweet or salty? - how is anyone expected to control their calories? And let me tell you, I can eat. I've even contemplated competition eating, but those skinny Asians can pound some red hots.

The worst part is that I joined a weight loss competition 10 weeks ago, named after The Biggest Loser. Here's another secret: I've never seen the show in its entirety. But I get the concept - go to adult fat camp, cry a lot and lose your man-boobs. Thankfully, there's a lot less crying in this competition, as well as angry personal trainers. But after 10 weeks, I'd only lost and gained the same few pounds.

So the competition is starting up again on Monday. Despite my embarrassment, I decided to give it another shot. After seeing the "after" photos of the top winners - er, losers - I realized that I had just wasted four months of my life. Rather than feeling confident in a swimsuit this summer, I'll be searching for a cover-up. So why wait another four months - especially since I hope to give baby-making another try later this year?

But I decided to invite you all to join, since I know it's a great motivator to pass by the dessert plate at BBQs this summer. If you're already skinny, you can leave now. People hate you.

Here's how it works: You pay $100 to participate. Every week, you send in your weight to the administrator, who is also a participant. To keep things honest, you must send in a personal photo of yourself and an image of the scale at the beginning and end of the competition. A weekly spreadsheet is sent out with info on each contestant, and emails are exchanged sharing tips and some ribbing. All weight loss plans are OK, but no fasts, cleanses, pills or supplements are allowed. There are a few raffles during the competition, but most of the money goes to the winners. Last time, the winner took homes $1,100, second place got $660 and third place got $440. (Winners are based on percentage of weight loss, not total weight loss, so there is not a real advantage to being heavier.)

Last time, there was a wide group of women, mostly from Arizona, who participated. Most had a significant amount of weight to lose, so if you only need to lose a few pounds, this competition might not be for you. You can go join the skinny girls now, but you make us less insecure than they do if that makes you feel better.

Anywho, if you are interested, email me at missusdubATgmailDOTcom. You need to be ready to go on Monday morning, but it's OK if you can't get the money for a week or so. And I should mention that I'm planning on winning, but you're welcome to come in second.

Now, where's my danish?

Sleep Atkins

Last night, it took Miss Dub ONE HOUR of sad, pathetic, heartbreaking crying to fall asleep. 60 minutes, people. 3,600 seconds. Or in Mom Time, forever.

But I’m realizing that sleep training is a lot like weight loss.

When I was obese, the thought of losing so much weight was daunting. Giving up yummy treats and counting calories did not sound like fun. So I basically convinced myself that it was impossible to lose weight; that I was genetically wired to hold onto weight despite my best efforts. And while there was some truth to that in my case, the real culprit, of course, was that I lacked willpower. Nevertheless, I would try for a few days or a week and stop when I didn’t get dramatic results. I would whine and complain and say it was too hard. Everyone else had it easier, I reasoned. Losing weight just wasn’t as tough for them.

So I fixated on a magical alternative, some other way to lose weight that was easy, fast and painless. Thankfully, I didn’t get caught up in the web of Atkins and South Beach and cabbage soup because I’m so lazy and carb-addicted that even those sounded too intense. But I can see how women bounce from specialized diet to diet with yo-yoing weight in between all because the rudimentary concept of eating less and exercising more is just plain tedious.

Same goes for sleep training. I’d try and try with Miss Dub to get her to sleep, but never once let her truly cry it out after she was an infant. Once her cries began to resemble words – “Mom, why do you hate me?” – it was too much. I’d go a few minutes and cave. Rather than admit my weakness, I told myself crying it out was inhumane. That it worked for other people because their babies weren’t as smart or aware as my child. That Miss Dub was emotionally scarred by the behavior. So I fixated on other ways and other methods, but while those magically promised few tears, they also required a long list of specific behaviors to get results. And my lazy self never could follow all of them so sleeplessness prevailed.

Like weight loss, I eventually reached a breaking point. It eventually dawned on me that millions of people had done this. That while it was hard, it was possible. And if I stuck to it, there was no way I could fail. I just had to see it through.

Well, I’m now down 60 pounds and eating better is a habit so it seems easy, though I’ve definitely laxed in some areas and need to lose another 5 pounds and get toned before I claim victory. And, of course, I’ll always have to be vigilant because the slightest thing can set me off course since I’m an emotional eater.

Miss Dub isn’t close to the finish line, either, but I keep reminding myself that it’s out there. We made it through a whole day of sleep training and she didn’t die, though she did poop her pants. I didn’t cave. And even though I lost sleep, I feel more rested because I feel hope.

Still, it’s terribly hard, but I just keep reminding myself of those first few days of eating better. You’re so hungry that you think it’s inhumane. You’re so cranky that you think it’s impossible. You’re so annoyed that you don’t want to do it. But a few days later, you realize that you’re satisfied with less food and feel better in general. And it dawns on you that it’s not that hard; that you can get results if you stick with it.

So I’m sticking with it.

But it would be nice to know how long this took for all of you. (??)

(‘Cause I’m lazy like that.)

The Secret

So a lot of people are asking for my secret to weight loss.

Technically, you can find it here.

But for those of you afraid to link before finishing my post, let me summarize the concept:

Eat less.

I know, I know, it sounds a lot simpler than it really is.

And I can say this because I have been fat – like, for real.

And I looove food. Like, when I think of a perfect day or heaven or anything vaguely divine, it always incorporates food; mostly Mexican food – enchiladas, carnitas, chile rellenos. Sometimes I throw in some Mussaman curry for extra spice. And occasionally I’ll add some dessert, though I much prefer savory to sweet. (My nachos could so beat up your cheesecake!)

Despite my new low-fat, low-cal ways, I firmly believe there is nothing wrong with these fantasies. I sincerely hope that anyone with a wicked metabolism or dying wish will bring them to life for me. And then send me pictures.

This is the part where I make a confession, and ask that all former flames or people who think a size 4 is average leave the screen. When I went to birth Miss Dub, I weighed 80 pounds more than I do today. And I’m still a little chubby.

Don’t do the math. I beg you.

And while 50 preggo pounds added to post-thyroid-zapping weight gain helped me achieve my large and in charge status, my eating habits weren’t exactly helping.

Somewhere between obsessing over food in college and getting married, I started to feel entitled to a hearty meal. Where I had been throwing together meals from a sparse single woman’s fridge – “a little broccoli, some toast, a mento” – I suddenly was making multi-course meals with full-fat ingredients.

But I didn’t stop there. I had seconds. I had dessert. And then I made a run for the border.

Gluttony was a form of entertainment, I suppose. It tasted good and it gave me something to do at night to fill the void studying, courting and hangin’ had left in my life.

And it was fun … until my thyroid was deemed defective and had to be destroyed.

And then the weight didn’t just creep on; it turned my scale into an uphill ride on a roller coaster.

Thankfully, I pulled the brake after Miss Dub’s debut.

And as you could imagine, that initial thud really hurt. It was hard to eat less – to stop before I felt full.

But then the roller coaster started to go down. Ten. Five. Fifteen. Twenty … until I weighed what I did when I got married, which is still about 10 pounds more than my goal.

And here’s the surprising part – losing weight felt much better than food ever tasted.

Better than an enchilada. Better than nachos. Almost better than a chile relleno. Almost.

So now, when I dream about a perfect day or heaven, I see myself standing next to that buffet table with fat-free ice cream bar in hand. I’m wearing a chic outfit, and I look good.

You can look good, too, if you’re not feeling fantasy-worthy.

But you have to eat less.

You don’t get to reward yourself with food.

You don’t get to overeat.

You don’t get to indulge every day.

But you will lose weight.

And that tastes good.

The skinny on skinny

I don’t want to be skinny.

You heard me right.

I don’t want to be skinny.

Shoot, I don’t even want to be thin.

To those who are naturally skinny or have the willpower to healthily maintain a slimmish figure, I offer my sincere congratulations. You deserve it. Enjoy single-digits sizes and single scoops of ice cream, as the case may be.

Thin is great for lots of people. I’m just not one of them.

I know that the world would tell me I’m crazy. Shoot, Nicole Richie and her gang of lollipop-shaped celebutantes are probably plotting a way to eliminate me and my love handles. (However, they probably won’t have the energy to carry through. A cornel of corn a day just can’t support cavorting and gangbanging, it appears.)

Thin just doesn’t feel right on me. It’s all bony and awkward. And there’s no amount of food small enough to make my child-bearing hips disappear. So I might as well pad my other regions to stay in proportion.

However, I don’t want to be fat.

(Here’s the part where my offended thin readers start to feel appeased and my fat readers start to feel offended.)

Again, I have nothing against fat people. Some of my favorite people are considered fat by BMI charts. I, however, just consider them to be funny or nice or beautiful. And one day I’ll figure out a chart to measure those important things. (That would be the day after I figure out how to do math again.)

So it isn’t that I think fat is ugly. I just don’t think fat is pretty on me. And I certainly don’t want to be the spokesperson for people carrying a few extra pounds … which is the latest compliment for overweight individuals. I guess, “But you have such a beautiful face,” got exposed as the patrionizing, I-don’t-know-what-to-say-to-my-larger-friend comment it was. So now, people tell you, “But you are such a great example of a real woman.” Or, “But you look healthy” … as you shovel down some fries.

Or, my personal favorite: “You’re big and beautiful.”

Leave the last one to Queen Latifah, who I hope loves her natural curves. And they are natural. Because some people are bigger than others. I, however, was not made to be a BIG girl.

I was made to be me.

Me is about a size 10, depending on the brand. Me is confident to wear a swimsuit without boardshorts into the water. (Seriously skinny girls, when you wear them you just make me laugh.) Me is eating fresh fruits and veggies and a whoppin’ slice of cake when a true special occasion arises.

Me is not into working out for hours on end. Me is not into lying about hating the taste of fattening foods like eggs and peanut butter when I’m really just scared of them. Me is not into looking good to meet someone else’s standard of beauty.

Me is happy.

Me is not skinny.

Currently, I’m not quite feeling like myself. But I’m well on my way thanks to some recent weight loss and thyroid resolution. And I’ve definitely reestablished healthy eating habits. So I’m sure to be back to my old self in a few months.

And, who knows, maybe I’ll go for a size 8 in the end.

But if you ask me, that’s way too skinny.

HEART day

On a lighter note ... seriously, this yogurt is 100 calories with 0g of fat ... I HEART Yoplait's new Light Thick & Creamy yogurt.

For real (yes, I did just say that), it tastes like rich custard even though it's good for me, minus the whole sugar and preservative stuff. And who cares about that anyway? Well lots of people, actually, such as my brother-in-law, but I'm down with a little manmade goodness.

This yogurt has been key to my recent weight (watcher) success. (Down 15 pounds in the last 6 weeks and SO many since I had lil' Miss Dub that I durst not write the total for fear you'll do the math.)

Also, I'm keen on Thomas 100 calorie English Muffins, Jell-o Sugar Free puddin's -- pretty sure that's the officially spelling there -- and lots and lots of sweet potatoes. They're like potatoes but sweeter. Who knew?

Oh, and I've found these great new snacks -- apples, grapes and carrots. I think you find them by the fine cheeses, which all grocery stores seem to carry these days, thank goodness. I mean, it used to be hard just to find a good Gouda.

What health-happy snacks do you HEART?

New Year, New Me

Public resolutions are all the rage these days and we all know I'm more of a trend-follower than setter, with the exception of my fashion forward ways from 1993-1996.

(I so knew that plastic baby barrettes would be haute couture for tweeners before Sassy did.)

But I digress.

(Mental note: Make a resolution to stop digressing.)

(Mental note: Make a resolution to stop using so many parentheses when blogging.)

(Mental note: Make a resolution to stop making mental notes.)

So I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon and post some of my resolutions on this here blog.

Resolution #1:

Lose weight.

Lots of it. Like, I've lost almost all my pregnancy weight and I still have about that much to go. I credit my enormous appetite, lack of self control and radiated thyroid for such a phenomenal accomplishment. And I am hoping to credit Weight Watchers for my unbelievable body come this summer. Wish me luck and lots of bran!

Resolution #2:

Be a better woman.

Seriously, I'm so over being a whiny woman. When did that become cool? There's no need to gossip (unless it's about celebrities, which is totally acceptable and legal). There's no need to complain. There's no need to hold a grudge. There's no need to belittle myself for the sake of others. There's no need to do or be things just because others want me to. There's no need to compare myself to anyone, much less someone with unattainable attributes. There's no need to expect recognition for everything I do. There's no need to waste time on things I cannot change. And there's no reason not to be more, see more and do more, all while inspiring my daughter to take more pride in herself and her womanhood.

Resolution #3:

Be more spiritual.

I won't go into deets here because it's a private, personal and sacred matter. But I sometimes wonder what non-religious folk put on their resolution lists since about 25 of mine are typically spiritually-related. Some acronym hints: VT, FHE, SS, HFPE.

Resolution #4:

Stop feeling guilty.

I come from a family with a sorry complex. Like, we feel a need to apologize for anything and everything, as if it's our fault. (Example: "I'm sorry there was a avalanche in Colorado." Or "I'm sorry you had to turn on the dishwasher.") It drives outsiders, including our spouses, crazy. And it's pretty pointless. So I'm not going to do it anymore ... I hope.

Sorry for that long explanation.

Resolution #5:

Be a better blogger.

Like many of bloggers out there, I've had a love/hate relationship with my blog. I've been tempted to stop. I've been tempted to start over. But instead I'm just going to be better. Less ranting, more raving. Less pictorials, more editorials. Less sap, more satire. Less breaks, more blogging.

So there you have it. It's a short list. It doesn't include some other goals like saving more, reading more, loving more, running more ... and buying a house.

(Oh, and Miss Dub wants you to know that modesty is her number one goal this new year.)