Sunday, January 30, 2011

We're entering the annoying part of dieting, so LIE TO ME

I had to go up a level on the bike today. Ugh. Hate that. I pay attention to my heart rate, which dictates which resistance level I need to be at on the machines. On the elliptical, my heart rate is usually between 160 and 170. And on the bike, it's at 150. I was at level 4 and kept the level at 150 last week. But today, I couldn't get the ol' heart rate past 142, even when I was peddling like a freak. So, I leveled up. This is great news for my heart. It's proof that my heart is getting stronger and healthier. Bad news for the legs. My body hasn't quite caught up with my heart yet, so the legs were feeling like noodles when I got done today.

My one-month weigh-in is coming up. I'm actually kind of excited. Weigh-ins haven't gone so well in the past, as you may recall. After an initial 7-pound drop, I didn't lose any weight week 2, and then three days later I weighed-in at a 9-pound total loss on the Iron Man scale. Nine is OK. I'll take 9. But on Wednesday, it'll be 9 days or so since the last weigh-in, and I'm really hoping for a big number for the month's total.

I think I would be happiest with a 17-pound loss the first month. That's the number I lost during my last starvation diet. So if I lost that this time by actually eating healthy foods and exercising, I would feel pretty awesome about that. Of course, I don't want to put too much pressure on it. I'm the one who keeps trying to convince everyone and myself that this isn't as much a numbers game as it is a lifestyle change. It's hard not to focus on what the scale says, though.

If it is 17, we'll be entering into the annoying chapter of weight loss. I'm pretty tall (5'9"). And I've got a slightly larger frame (my doctor actually said that, by the way, so I promise I'm not one of those girls who uses that as an excuse). That means there's a lot of surface area for the weight to come off.
So I swear to you, I will play out the following scenario about a dozen times in the next week, I guarantee it:

Interested Party: So, how much weight have you lost?
Me: About 17 pounds.
IP: ... Reeeeeallly? 17? Wow ... that's great. (Looks me up and down, semi-puzzled.)
Me: ...thanks.

In my mind they're saying, "Turn around, maybe there's something missing back there. Cuz I'm just ... not ... seein' it."

Also, the weight always drops off my mid-section first. And it's not that I don't have weight to lose there; I do. But it's the ol' derriere that packs the most punch, and whenever I diet, it sticks out round and proud for as long as it damn well pleases until finally succumbing to my groveling that it shrink down to a less-frightening size. Until then, there are no pants baggy enough to mask the square-footage, no shirt with long enough coat tails to hide its girth.

So please consider this post as a request that you LIE TO ME. Convincingly, please. If I say to you, "I've lost 17 pounds," then you say, "I knew it! Actually, you look so fabulous, that I would have sworn it would be twice that number."

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