How Do You Like Them Apples?

179.4 lbs.* Yeah, we’ve been in this neighborhood before. Didn’t stay nearly long enough.

So, It is Day 7 of HGC** Phase 2 aka Reduced Calorie Phase and it IS WORKING.

Hey, like I said, I tried it the “approved” way and weight loss didn’t happen. I do this, I lose weight. I’m sitting here in my Levi’s 501 jeans. Again.  

One of the goals is to be size eligible for the “it” brands of jeans like Lucky or Seven. (Nordstrom Rack). Lucky’s largest women’s size is 12. Yes, it’s superficial, but it’s my landmark. Besides, I took a good look, thought about it and I have a cute ass. A cute ass should have high end jeans.

Unlike the first round of HCG  for me (Jan 31 – Mar 13), I am exercising regularly and eating less beef (I have my diary from the first time). I have expectations of losing more weight this time than I did on the first round (26 lbs.). I’m also planning to revisit the length of time I’m doing this when I get to Day 21 (October 31). If the loss is satisfactory at that point, I’ll shift to Phase 3. If not, I’ll go to 40 days. Since the comments section on this blog has dust on it, I take it that none of my regular readers has an opinion one or the other as to my chosen methodology. (Type now or forever hold your peace. Not that it’s going to change my mind one way or another). I know, I know; the suspense is killer.

One of the features of the HCG protocol is something called “Apple Day.” When weight gets stuck (or one day in 7. I opted for 1 day in 7.), instead of the standard 100 grams of protein, 2 cups of vegetables, 1 fruit and measured Nut Thins, one eats 6 big ass apples over 24 hours and only 6 big ass apples over 24 hours.

Yeah, it’s gimmicky and nowhere near as much fun as a “Steak Day” (those are in the 3 weeks afterwards. 12-14 oz steak and sliced tomatoes. My kind of a diet.), but it works. It’s how I got the jump start for this project.

I am still hitting the gym (not as hard) and while putting in time on the elliptical cross-trainer the other day, one of the ladies from my yoga class got on the machine next to me. I don’t know her name, but she’s a sweet, friendly person and wanted to take a spin on the elliptical for the first time. We worked through figuring out her rhythm (Look, we’re human beings, we dig rhythm in all things and once we figure out a good groove, we stay there. Think about it) and how to program the machine. She hung in there for 20 minutes and then stopped. The next thing she said absolutely floored me: “I stayed on that long because you were doing it, too.”

Me? A role model? For EXERCISE? Am I in a parallel universe? This is the same person that gets all the pontificating from family members, draws the fat comments from shitheaded strangers and I’m a role model? An inspiration? I’m on a protocol that people either love or hate (the acupuncturist and therapist I trust – love. Dr. Oz – hate) and  still people look to me. That’s heady stuff.

Well, my yoga friend, because you stepped up onto the machine and out of your comfort zone, I’ve kept faith with my exercise regimen, even though with HCG, I could skip it altogether (I don’t want to lose ground, so I’ll keep going). Plus, it’s a tough crowd in yoga class: you miss one class and you get grilled by the other students when you return (practically need a doctor’s note. NOT Dr. Oz).

I need to prove 50 isn’t fatal. You are never too old to achieve (although the hot flashes are telling me that kids are out of the question. I’ve long considered adopting a 30 year old the best course of action; you miss diapers, teething, terrible twos, puberty and the cost of a college education). Hefner isn’t going to put me in Playboy, but I may turn a few heads yet (once I get rolling on E Harmony. Those bastards want the entire fee UP FRONT. I should put a Paypal donation link on here). Somewhere out there is a little black dress and a lucky man with my name on them.

*It’s 3 days after I started this post and it’s still 179.4. Annoyed sigh.

**Human chronironic (or something like that) gonadatropin

How Do You Like Me Now?

179.8 lbs.! It’s a whole new deal.

Thud! Crash! That’s more body armor falling off.

Oh yeah. Oh, yeah, Baby. We will call this past week the Week of Milestones.: Pilates roll-up completed, 40 pound loss marker passed, able to reach and paint my own toenails, Tree Pose held (okay, somewhat) , but wait, there’s more.

However, before we get to the big reveal…

I subscribe to Vogue. I will buy the Oscar edition of People magazine (This year, Natalie Portman’s earrings have given me an idea. Don’t know if I can execute it, but…). When I can get E! network, I will tune in to “Fashion Police.” Consequently, below  is an “artist’s” rendering of the Idea American Woman:

I have the right color hair (especially when I can get to the stylist), although long doesn’t mix with fine hair (it goes flat). I have the eye color. Come to think of it, this is Angelina Jolie from “salt.” (Never saw it).

I suspect that what we’re told is the ideal has been greatly influenced by Anna Wintour and Helen Gurley Brown, the editors in chief of Vogue and Cosmopolitan magazines respectively. These are very small women, natural size 2s. I hypothesize that what they approve for the images in their magazines are a strong reflection of what they see in the mirror (and what they saw as young women): not naturally curvy (notice I said “natural”), in need of high heels and the kind of hair that, in the 50s, would be a fantasy if let down from a bun for The Boss (Helen Gurley Brown is a product of the “Mad Men” climate).

 And if we don’t have this look, we are supposed to undergo whatever it takes to get there and put off feeling good about ourselves until we do (despite the terrible pain from the stilettos and collagen-lips) and the harassing phone calls from Visa because we not only overshot the credit limit, but we’ve not been able to make a dent in it what with the change of seasons and “in” makeup palettes (free gift with purchase). The last issue of Vogue ecstatically described a new “hot” nail treatment of applying python skin (shed from a living snake. They only give their lives for luggage) to nails for $125. It lasts a whole week.

Fuck that noise.

Let me show you whiy I’m feeling REALLY good today:

Yes, those are the infamous Levi’s 501s. And they FIT!!!! (a big snug and there’s overhang, but God dammit, THEY FUCKING FIT!!!) I have not fit into those jeans in this century, let alone this decade. Unfortunately, the placket (it’s either the piece of fabric that hold on the buttons or a tropical fish. I get confused: Home Ec. was a helluva long time ago) has a ripped seam, but that’s fixable. And the shirt? IT WAS TOO SMALL WHEN I BOUGHT IT!!! Not any more. It fits. So does  a historic long-sleeved tee shirt. Historic because it’s the tour short from the first Jimmy Buffett concert I ever attended in 1986. Okay, so it’s snug, but I can get into it.

Truth time: I had confused those jeans with a couple of pairs of Calvin Kleins. The Live’s are 34W and 32I, boot cut (not my favorite leg. I like the narrower bottoms). The Calvins and another pair of Levis were also retrieved from storage yesterday. The Calvins are 13 and 12 respectively and do not presently fit (I figure another 10 lbs., maybe 5 to close them. I’m not good at estimating these things). But I can get them up onto my hips. The other Levis are black 917s, size 14 and  maybe 5 lbs., I can close them.  Whatever.

The important point to me is that I WEIGHED LESS THAN 180 LBS. THIS MORNING! This is not a drill. This is for real and the next big mile marker is 174.6 lbs. That’s 50 lbs. since January 31, 2011. Oh, you bet your sweet bippy I want to hit that and pass it. Right now, I am 20.2 lbs. away from the normal BMI marker (159.6).

Back in January, when I had decided I was going to make this run, a younger friend asked me how old I was. I told her I would be 50 in June and her response was, “At that age, why bother?”

Because, Sweetie, I may be eligible for AARP, but I’m not dead. Because I want a stronger, healthier body (which was moving heavy boxes yesterday with relative ease). Because I don’t want to give ANYBODY the opportunity to call me a “Fat Bitch” or a “Fat Fucking Whore” ever again. Ecause I have such a sense of achievement right now. Not accomplishment, because I’m not goal weight (but I’m less than 30 lbs. from it – initially 140 lbs, but I told My Net Diary 125 lbs.). Because I want to be able to buy health insurance on my own (I’d rather be part of a group plan, but if I need to buy my own, I can, finances notwithstanding). Because there is no upper age limit on doing. Because I get better options for dressing myself.

Mostly, because I have felt for the past 20 years like life and potential relationship/ social interaction was a party to which I wasn’t invited. 

I just invited myself. Oh, Boys....