Fat Genes and the Cursed Pumpkin Bars

How have I been doing keeping the weight off? So kind of you to ask...but I really don't want to go there. Really. But I know I have to. Accountability! I've been putting off writing this post because I don't want to begin again. I have such an easier time keeping on top of healthy eating though if I share my progress (or lack thereof), so here I am.

Have I fallen off the food wagon face first? No...but I have been completely off the wagon, skipping along beside it and even letting it get almost completely out of sight before catching back up to it and reluctantly dragging myself back on. But my feet have been dangling off, trailing on the seductively free ground, while I tell myself I'll do better tomorrow. Sitting safely in the center of the wagon with tape over my mouth. Fun fun.

Always tomorrow. That's the worst pitfall for me. An old country song comes to mind...if tomorrow never comes. Sometimes late at night...I lay awake thinking of all the deliciousness hanging out all alone in the kitchen... I am aware I have a problem.

The slide started in July after my brother's wedding. I was exhausted from all the projects I was trying to complete, and frankly just sick and tired of counting and telling myself no. I started allowing myself treats more than once a week. And then I'd skip weighing myself the next day so I wouldn't get too discouraged. I'll do better tomorrow! After a month of slipping and avoiding the scale I stepped back on it to discover I was only up 5 pounds. What kind of miracle was this? Was my metabolism healed? I celebrated with a bowl of ice cream that night, liberally sprinkled with Cajun trail mix. Mmm mmm good.

My false sense of security was shattered after the second month when I got on the scale before a doctor's appointment to avoid any possible shock in a public place. Oh man. I was up a total of 13 lbs. So much for a forgiving metabolism! I cannot trick my genes. I know how hard it is to lose 13 pounds. Dread and guilt began to overwhelm me. 

Since then my weight has fluctuated by 5 pounds, so I'm staying at the 45-50-pound-weight-loss level. I was at 58 pounds lost, with hopes of losing another 15 lbs. My weight today sits at 47 pounds lost from where I was at the beginning of it all in February.

I confided in a couple family members about my weight gain, who in turn reassured me that it wasn't noticeable, and I looked fine. As comforting as this was to hear, it is so dangerous for me. I look fine, so I can indulge for a little bit longer. Nachos layered with melted cheese, cheese and bread with my burgers, and bacon! Oh bacon, how I missed you! And pasta! Mounds and mounds of buttery garlic noodles, and spaghetti simmered in red sauce, not served with a measuring cup. It is my nemesis. Onion rings and fries (homemade, of course), and as much pizza as I can eat. And lately: pumpkin bars with cream cheese frosting. 'Tis the season! I've made three large baking sheets of them in the last two weeks. Ugh.

The madness stops here. I totally understand that the number on the scale has nothing to do with how good of a person I am, or what people think of me. It's a way for me to measure my self control and stay on track. There are clothes that are not as comfortable as I'd like; this should help. I also hope to increase exercise as a means to ward off depression as the cold, dark months approach. Running releases endorphins, your body's own feel-good drug, and it's much better than consuming a pound of chocolate to get the same effect. 

This will be the first of weekly weight posts, checking in to report progress. I'm considering my weight today as ground zero. My goal is to lose 25 pounds by Christmas.