It’s the Small Victories

The thing about weight loss and a healthier lifestyle is we all want results yesterday. For all of diet time, we’ve been taught that the more calories you cut and burn, the more drastic the changes, the quicker the pounds will fall right off.

If only that were true… There is SO much more to it than that. It is not as simple as burn more, eat less, lose more. First, your body needs a certain number of calories everyday in order to perform the basic functions that it needs to perform. Under the supervision of a doctor or nutritionist, less calories can be consumed but it is important to be supervised so you know what foods to eat when. Otherwise, you may find the opposite of weight loss if you are not getting enough.

So the original point of my post, before I saw a squirrel and started jumping all over the place, is sometimes making one small change here and there can add up to big results. Something as simple as changing from creamer in your coffee in the morning to milk, or a couple more bottle of water.

So here are some of the small changes I’ve made over the last couple of weeks that may not have showed on the scale yet, but they have helped me to inspire myself to keep going.

First: WATER! I’m so horrible at drinking water. I’m sure if you look back through my blogs, you will see me make mention of this. I probably spend 99.9% of my time in some state of dehydration. I’m not really a soda or a juice drinker either. So what do I drink? Nothing… I might have a can of Diet Pepsi, maybe a half a bottle of water (mostly on the days I teach Zumba) and I may have a glass of milk with dinner or (let’s be real here) with cookies after dinner. This past 2 weeks, I have made water a no excuses, no choice option. I may not be drinking all that I am supposed to (did you know you are supposed to be drinking half your body weight in ounces?!) but I am drinking a TON more than I was.

Here is how I’m doing it. First thing in the morning, before I allow myself a cup of coffee, I force myself to drink a bottle of water. Right now I’m on 16 ounce bottles, but hoping to graduate eventually to 20. Next, when I want a snack (which is often) I force myself to drink another bottle of water. I know a bottle sounds drastic but because of how much I hate drinking water, it lets me off the hook for a while when I drink the whole bottle at once. I really just want to get it over with. Same with before a meal.

This has not only resulted in getting the minimum of 64 ounces a day (I’ve already had 48 today and it’s only 2) but it has also helped me to cut back on snacking. I know that sometimes when you think you are hungry you are actually thirsty but I never really believed that until now. It has made it so much easier to stay on track with my Weight Watchers points and I know my hair and skin will thank me eventually as well.

Second: PREPARATION! It is that time of year where being prepared every where you go is key. There is literally, food on every counter and corner, and it’s not fruit and veggies, we’re talking candy and cookies. I’m not usually much of a candy and cookies kind of girl unless I’m trying not to eat them, which of course, right now means I want all the cookies and ALL the candy. If I’m prepared and can account for it before I’m over my points budget or plan a way to keep myself from partaking, I’m in so much better of a situation than just asking myself for forgiveness later.

Here’s some examples. I knew there was going to be cake and pizza at my nephews birthday party. I tracked a piece of pizza before I left home, and brought gum with me. When I got there, I went straight for the goodies that I knew the points value of and had some of those first. I had 1 piece of pizza and then popped a piece of gum. Pizza and cinnamon do not make a yummy combo, trust me, I have tried. This past weekend, my son had a cast party for his school play. Again, pizza and cake. This time, I had my husband bring me baked chicken and corn. I allowed myself the topping off of 1 slice of pizza (the topping is my favorite part) and then I ate my chicken and I did not leave hating life and completely unlunch satisfied.

There are times we cannot plan and prepare for i.e. this morning when my refrigerator was bare if you ignored everything for Thanksgiving. I tossed back my bottle of water and my coffee and treated myself to pepperoni for breakfast. May not have been the healthiest, but it was better than stopping at McDonald’s, right? It is all about decisions and balance. We are human being after all and one small change is so much better than no change at all.

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Posted by on November 25, 2019 in Uncategorized


Why I Shouldn’t Weigh Every Day

So most of us know what we should pick one day a week as our weigh in day. I only track my weight once a week, however, I am one of those people that wakes up everyday and goes straight to the scale. While that worked fine for me at 150 pounds, it’s proving to be an awful idea at 250. I know I’m not the only woman who can gain a pound simply by looking at a cookie. I know I am not the only one who can jump 2 pounds because I drank one less glass of water. I have stayed within my Weight Watchers point range with laser focus since last Tuesday. I have not gone over or under by 1 point in a week and a half.

Those first few days back on program the battery in my scale was dead. I weighed in for the first time at my in-law’s on a Tuesday and didn’t get batteries for my scale until Sunday. I was so excited when I stepped on the scale on Monday morning and found I was down over 8 pounds! Of course when I woke up on Tuesday I had to weigh as well. That morning I was down 2 more pounds for a total of 10. Then came Wednesday, my actual weigh in day. I was down only 8 pounds. Wait… why did I say only? I WAS DOWN 8 POUNDS!! But instead of being excited, as I should have been, I was disappointed and wondering what in the world caused me to be up 2 pounds from the day before.

So what did I do this morning? Of course I ran back downstairs and hopped on the scale thinking surely yesterday’s weigh in was a fluke. It must have been too much sodium or something, right? Wrong! It was up another .8 pounds! I mean, in the grand scheme, what is .8 pounds? But when you are laser focused and doing everything right, weighing and measuring, counting every bite; that .8 pounds is extremely frustrating and has caused me to spend my whole morning on a dangerous train of thought.

What if the fluke was those 8 pounds I lost not the couple that came back? What if it keeps going up when I’m continuing to do everything right? Why aren’t I eating the really yummy stuff if I’m just going to gain anyway? What if? What if? What if? I can feel that familiar doubt and frustration setting in. The doubt and frustration that has given me an excuse to throw in the towel and give up after not really ever trying in the first place.

If I wasn’t weighing everyday, I wouldn’t have any idea about the 8 pounds that a day before were 10, I wouldn’t know about the .8, I would just be excited to be seeing results and working towards the next week. When I stepped on the scale on my weigh in day I would only have to face 1 victory or defeat, instead of maybe 1 victory and 6 defeats. I could be up everyday between now and Wednesday, but by Wednesday be down.

So you know what I’m going to do tomorrow morning? Well, let’s be honest, I’m probably going to rush down to the scale… and then maybe I’ll have my husband hide it on me until Wednesday morning.

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Posted by on November 21, 2019 in Uncategorized


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I don’t Want to Walk About it

It has been 3 years since I last posted on this blog. 3 YEARS!!! I can sum up my health and my weight in one simple sentence; I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about the times I have restarted and given up. I don’t want to talk about the fact that here I am, starting yet again, only this time at nearly the same weight that I started. I don’t want to talk about that 103 pounds that have found their way back on to my body. I don’t want to talk about the excuses I’ve made, the many Monday’s I promised myself I would start over on and didn’t. I don’t want to talk about my pants size or the fact that I have donated most of my size 4’s and replaced them instead with 18’s. I don’t want to talk about the defeat I have felt when I’ve looked in the mirror or stood naked in the shower. I don’t want to talk about the number of times I visited a drive thru in the past 3 years. I don’t want to talk about the number of times by babies, especially my impressionable little girl have heard me call myself fat. I can’t stand to think about the years where I have simply given up, let alone put them into words out loud or in this post. I don’t want to talk about it, so I won’t.

What I will talk about is that I’m here, again. I am starting over. I will not allow myself to continue in this place of sadness, shame and food.

I can’t keep pretending I will start again tomorrow. The more tomorrow’s fly by, the harder it is to start again, the more my health suffers and the greater the odds are that I will leave my beautiful babies motherless and an amazing man a widow because I was not will to stop; stop making excuses; stop filling my body with things that are only killing me. I have been killing myself for the last 3 years, and that is something I don’t want to talk about.

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Posted by on November 20, 2019 in Uncategorized


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I Hate to Love Cupcakes

I’m three days sober from the food intoxication I’ve been in for the last nine months and today is my oldest son’s birthday.  We all know what that means… cupcakes, cake, frosting and I LOVE frosting.  I could sit down and eat an entire bowl of frosting and my world would be a better place.  That is until I have to answer to my waistline.

I admire the mother who can make sweet treats for her family and not taste test one or two or three, but I’m not that mother.  The first time around I was.  I didn’t let anything pass through my lips that was not on program.  This time, not so much.

So this afternoon I made cupcakes; chocolate with marshmallow frosting.  I didn’t say no entirely, but when my wagon got a flat, I didn’t slash the other 3 tires.  We talk about this all the time in my WW meetings.  If you got a flat, you wouldn’t slash the other 3 because that would just be stupid.  I wanted to so badly, I wanted to say who cares I’m licking the bowl and the spoon and eating the 3 extra cupcakes we have, but I didn’t.  I had a bite of my son’s cupcake, one of my husbands and I licked the spatula once (I could have a lot more!)  Baby steps.  No one changes overnight.  We’ll see if I manage to do the same tomorrow at his birthday party…

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Posted by on April 29, 2016 in Uncategorized


Making a Choice

Who would choose to be overweight?  Who would want to struggle to reach their toes; shop in stores specifically for people who are heavier?  I worked so hard for a long time to not feel weighed down by more than 100 extra pounds.  It took time, focus and determination to get to the point where I could shop anywhere I wanted to and try on clothes without melting into a sweaty puddle on the floor of the fitting room; eventually leaving the store, praying the size 24 jeans I was leaving with would fit because I was just too exhausted to try on another pair.

Before I started on my weight loss journey I liked to blame my weight on my health.  I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.  I walk this very fine line between loosing and gaining.  I could gain 10 pounds in a week.  They claim simple science of 3,500 calories equaling a pound but with PCOS, that isn’t always the case.  I could gain 3 pounds by going over my daily calories by a couple hundred a couple days in a row.  I used that was an excuse.  I choose to let that get in my way and then I choose not to.

Here I am, making the same choice, making excuses.  I’m not ready, I just had a baby 3 weeks ago, my hormones are still out of whack, I’m sleep deprived, it takes so much effort, and on and on I could go.  But the truth is I’ll be saying the same thing 3 weeks from now.  I’m still in a smaller size than I was when I started this process but not far from it.  I promised myself I would never see a size 18 on my body again, but today, that is what I’m wearing, telling myself it is only because I just had a baby and I’ll get out of that size in no time.  That’s so true, but unless I make a choice, I’ll only be leaving the size 18’s to squeeze into a 20.  It’s time to make a choice for my children and for myself.  I refuse to set the example I set for so many years, I will not avoid taking pictures with my babies because I feel like a flabby mess.  I will get back to where I was, I just need to make that choice.

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Posted by on April 27, 2016 in Uncategorized


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One Small Change

I’m constantly telling my Weight Watchers members to focus their attention on one small change a week.  Over the course of time, those small changes add up to big changes that lead to changing your lifestyle rather than just losing weight.  I remember a meeting back when I first became a leader where a member was so worried if she went over her points because of her coffee creamer, she wouldn’t lose.  But she was changing everything else about how she ate, so she still saw big results.  It is so easy to help people with their own struggles, but something totally different when it comes to following your own advice.  With the changing hormones and the exhaustion physically and emotionally, I’m overwhelmed and while these may all add up to excuses, it is just too much for me right now.

So the other day I posted about wearing leggings everyday.  What I didn’t say is I’m pretty much wearing the same 2 pairs of leggings everyday, which certainly is not helping me out of this ‘how did I gain so much weight while I was pregnant’ funk.

Since I’m not ready to hop right back in, I’m trying to shift my focus to one small change at a time.  Today I will not drink my calories.  Well, not all of them, I did have my coffee creamer (keeps me from adding sugar) and some fat free milk this morning, but no soda and no juice.  I have convinced myself grabbing a can of soda, which my hubby keeps stocked in the refrigerator is easier than getting out the ice and the water and dirtying a cup and blah, blah, blah.

I’m planning to pair my physical change with an attempt at an emotional one as well.  This one I’m sure will be a whole lot more difficult.  Size is nothing but a letter and weight is just a number, at least that’s what I tell others all the time.  If that is the case, what does it matter if I buy a pair of bigger pants?  No!  I do not want to get comfortable so I never do what I need to to get back to where I was, but at the same time, it’s not going to happen overnight and these 2 pairs of leggings are likely not going to last that long if I’m wearing them everyday and washing them every other.  I’m sure with my raging hormones, I’ll cry for a couple days when I buy a bigger size but I will just keep reminding myself, I won’t be there long.

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Posted by on April 18, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Leggings are Pants

Tomorrow our littlest love will be 2 weeks old (I know!  Where in the world has the time gone?!)  It also marks 2 weeks of wearing nothing but leggings.  I know leggings as pants are a serious fashion tragedy, but right now I find myself not even close to fitting in my pre-pregnancy clothes.  Don’t worry, when I try not to leave the house in said “pants” without a shirt that comes down low enough to cover my butt, cause let’s face it, that’s not sexy for anyone, let alone someone who just grew a human and several sizes over the last 9 months.

I have given some thought to hitting up some thrift shops and getting some “new” clothes but I refuse to allow myself to get too comfortable in this post baby body.  I know that will just make it that much easier to stay off track and continue to make excuses until the bigger size becomes an even bigger size and an even bigger beyond that.  As soon as my doctor gives me the OK, I will be back at the gym and out of those bigger clothes and hopefully out of my sexy “pants” sooner rather than later.

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Posted by on April 15, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Feeding Mama

There is something I had completely forgotten about having a newborn.  With all the things going on in my household, there are days and times when what mama needs gets pushed to the back burner or simply doesn’t happen at all.  The other day I realized on my way out the door at 11:45 that I hadn’t eaten anything all day!  I hadn’t felt hungry; between diaper changes, bottles, breakfast for big kids it slipped my mind.  This is unheard of for me!  I love food and I love to eat and it is not often I skip a meal, let alone forget.

If only I could forget about the peanut butter ice cream my hubby brought home the other night, or the Oreos he just munched on.  I’m so jealous of the fact that he can have an entire package of cookies and eat 2 or 3 whereas me on the other hand, I’ll eat every last one.

I just need to get used to the idea again that there are going to be things in our household that I say no to.  It’s not like my house is full of junk food all the time, but I do have a 6 year old, a 3 year old and a husband who walks 6 miles a day at his job and doesn’t gain 8 pounds by smelling chocolate.  I’ve done it before I can do it again, but why does the junk have to taste so good?

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Posted by on April 14, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Worth All 8 lbs 2 oz

It is no secret it has been a while since my last post.  Time has flown and a lot has changed but yet so much has stayed the same.  I’m still struggling with the same demons when it comes to diet and things have been a whole lot more challenging in that department since August.

In August we found out we were expecting the miracle of baby number 3.  Losing weight obviously eliminated my fertility problems.  We had tried for over a year for our first and 3 years for our second with a year on fertility meds.  I was convinced I could never be surprised by a pregnancy.  Those who have struggled know he window is small.  I am certain this was a mush higher power working in our lives.

Here I sit 9 months later, holding our beautiful baby girl.  She has completed our family.  My pregnancy with her was a cake walk, in the health department and LITERALLY in the weight department.  I allowed myself to indulge on all the things I had cut from my diet for so long.  I went through waves of working my doctor’s approved version of  Weight Watchers only to flop on my face into sleeves of Oreo cookies, mountains of pork fried rice and miles of melty pizza cheese.  It was delicious, disgusting and so totally worth it.


This face was worth every craving I caved on, every zumba class I had to sit out (doctor’s orders at about 5 months), every tear I cried over clothes that didn’t fit, every pants size between goal and where I am now; it was worth starting over for.  While my clothes from when I started my weight loss journey are much too large, my goal jeans I can’t even pull up past my knees.  I’m struggling to find the motivation to do anything other than nap, snuggle and love my boys and our baby girl.

I know I’ll get there, but I know it’s going to take me some time, and probably a long time.  I was happy at goal, but right now I’m euphoric.  I have come a long way from the number I started out at on the scale, but there are other things that never changed and more than likely, never will and I’m OK with that.  There is more to life than counting calories and I’ll get back to that tomorrow.


Posted by on April 12, 2016 in Uncategorized


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“The Race is Long and, In The End, It’s Only With Yourself”

I thought about giving up the minute I started.  I saw the turn for the 5K racers and I almost took it.  I was convinced at the second mile marker there was no way I was going to make it to 13.1.  By mile 2.5 I was in the back of the pack and already feeling like I had nothing left, my legs were already screaming, my lower back was already aching, my lungs were already about to explode and I was wondering what in the world I was thinking when I decided to run a half marathon.  The mind is a powerful thing, and for the fist 4 miles, mine was in control of my run.

At mile 4 I knew I had single digit miles left to run, I was nearing the halfway point, and my pace, while I felt awful, was fairly spot on for where it usually is.  I just kept telling myself to keep moving and kept saying out loud to myself, the only one you’re racing is yourself.  You just have to finish.

My husband, my kids, my mother in law and my sister in law were parked right around the 1 mile/12 mile marker (it was an out and back race).  At mile 4.5-5 I was praying I could see there faces to encourage me to keep moving.  That was when runners who had already made it to the turn around started passing me.  While generally during a race I get discouraged to be passed by returning runners so early on, it was amazing.  It was the encouragement I needed.  There were some runners who smiled, some who offered a wave, others words of encouragement, some high fives; whenever I passed another person, I ran a little faster.  While the turning point was still over a mile away, this was the turning point for me.  I fought back tears with each person that passed, not because I was in last place, but because I knew then I was going to finish.


The volunteers working this event were amazing as well offering applause and encouragement.  I didn’t feel like they were put out by me slowly bringing up the rear.  Even as they passed me to go from station to station to pack up (they’d pack up after I passed), they would applaud out the window.


From mile 10 on I was struggling.  I had trained to 10 miles.  I planned to train further but then I had sick kids followed by a sinus infection and it just didn’t happen for me.  It was obvious looking at my splits I hadn’t gotten past 10 in training.  I was fairly consistent with times until that point.  I dropped off 1 minute from 10-11 another from 11-12, and another from 12-13.  I wanted to walk, I wanted to cry, I wanted to be done.  Every inch of my body hurt.  And then across the way I saw my boys.  There were 2 minute long stretches I walked and when I saw them I pushed through tears and the pain so they would not see me walk or see me cry.  I yelled to my husband to come with me for a few minutes and he did.  He walked next to me while I ran (that’s how slow I was moving at this point).  I knew I was only a mile away, but that mile seemed impossible.

boyssignsWhen he left me to go back to the car so he could drive ahead to the finish line, I cried again, knowing I was going to make it.  No matter what, I had come 12 miles and I was going to get to 13.1.  I smiled at them as they drove past me yelling encouragement out the window.

After they drove off is when I met my angel in a kilt.  He had passed me on his way back probably somewhere around the 5 mile marker.  This man with paint on his face and a feather in his beard ran towards me and asked if he could accompany me to the finish.  I told him that was fine and spent the last half mile chatting a little and moving faster than I had in the last 3 miles.  He distracted me from the pain I was feeling and I might have even smiled a little.


My angel, Kip!

When we rounded the corner and saw the finish, Kip assured me I was going to make it in under 3 hours and that’s when I gave it the last bit of gas I had in me and I finished strong.  medal

I was so glad to be done and at the same time, in aw of the fact that I had finished.  I cried, I laughed, I cramped… It was amazing.

I posted on the half marathon group Facebook page about my experience and thanked everyone for their support and this was my favorite response: “Congratulations!!! As has been said already, you did not finish last. You finished ahead of everyone who didn’t put the effort in to accomplishing what you just accomplished. I actually mentioned you to my friend on the ride home. I said, “When I passed the woman at the back of the pack she looked so happy and she gave me an encouraging smile.” It was honestly the highlight of my run. Good for you and thank you!”

Later that night when I checked the official race results expecting to see my name listed last (which was OK with me as I was racing with myself) I teared up with I saw Kip, my angel in a kilt listed last.  He finished 4 seconds behind me.  He could have been done long before that but he waited at it meant so much to me.

I am more than proud of what I accomplished and more than a little amazed at what my body has done over these last 2 years.  2 years ago I was that person who didn’t put in the effort.  I was sad, morbidly obese and I couldn’t walk around the grocery store let alone run a half marathon.  I did this!  All on my own.  I had to push myself far outside of my comfort level, push through the pain and the mental and physical exhaustion and get it done and I did.


My ultimate goal of a marathon is still out there and I will get there, maybe next year or even the year after but for now it’s time for some much needed rest and a break and some time to be proud of what I have accomplished.  I look forward to my next half marathon and finishing in less than the 2:55 it took me yesterday.

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Posted by on September 29, 2014 in Uncategorized


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