Shout Out to Sprouts

187 lbs. Oh yeah, BIG step backwards. However, I am back on the REAL HCG protocol (not the crap they sell at GNC. It’s chocolate mint flavored, but still…). I can feel the difference.

I got back to the gym today for the first time in a few days and, as one may expect in January, it was crowded. There were the usual faces (Hey, when you’re dedicated, you’re dedicated) and a whole bunch of red, sweaty new faces puffing away on the treadmills and ellipticals.  If you’re one of them: good for you. STICK WITH IT. If you find you’re working above your level, dial it back a bit until you improve your strength/endurance and then push a little harder. DON’T GIVE UP. Okay, so you can’t do 20 pushups. That’s okay, ALL YOU CAN DO IS WHAT YOU CAN DO AND THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO DO.

If you made a New Year’s resolution to lose weight and/or improve health, don’t forget the eating component. Some of those red, sweaty faces may have left the gym and gone around the corner to the brand new Chik Fil A for a combo meal. Here’s the thing: if you’re going to make the effort, the smart move is to support it. I’m not talking about encouragement from those around you (and really, you should be your own cheering section. More on that in a bit), but about intake.

Part of health improvement/maintenance depends on the food you put in the body. Unfortunately, the really affordable stuff does nothing for you except to keep you from feeling hungry for a period of time (that would be ramen noodles). It also has the potential to wreck your health: high sodium, chemical shortcuts used to make the “food” cheaper and other means of maintaining/squeezing profits best not examined too closely. I strongly suggest reading “Food, Inc.” and seeing “Supersize Me.” You’ll never touch another Chicken McNugget.

Ideally, the argument goes, we should be eating organic, local and fresh as often as possible. However, there is a reason the biggest chain selling “health” foods is also known as “Whole Paycheck.” In their defense, though, I’ve found that their prices for apples were lower than Ralph’s: $2.29 per pound v. $2.49.  (For those outside the Southern California region, I’m speaking of local grocery chains. Outside of the Southland, Ralph’s is Krogers).  

Doing a little “on the fly” grocery shopping this weekend to prepare for the Reduced Calorie phase of HCG, I found a delightful surprise: Sprouts Market (or Henry’s. Six of one, half dozen of the other) is considerably lower in price on the foods I was buying. Even lower than my beloved Trader Joe’s. Apples were $.99 per pound. That’s 61% lower than Ralph’s. Trader Joe’s has been selling cucumbers for $1.49 each. Sprouts has them for $.49 each or 67% lower.  This is fresh produce, stuff that’s good for your body and it’s AFFORDABLE. Cucumbers are full of lignans that are linked to reduced risk of cardiovascular disease and cancer. They are also full of anti-inflammatory compounds. All this for less than 50 cents! Such a deal!

I haven’t even mentioned the great prices on oranges and grapefruit (pink grapefruit is a beautiful thing).

I have the circular advertising (until February 2012) ground buffalo for $7.99 per pound. It’s leaner than beef, lower calorie and higher in iron. Normally, if you go to Whole Foods, the price per pound is nearly double that of Sprouts.

Sprouts even has the beef shanks necessary for making Gram Thatcher's vegetable soup and for less than Whole Foods. So, the next time I get a request to make it, I know where to go.

I use flavored liquid stevia as a sweetening alternative for my coffee. Whole Foods: $13.99 per bottle. Sprouts: $8.99 per bottle.

Sprouts also has a pretty good selection of health and beauty aids at good prices. Same stuff as Whole Foods (Jason, Dermae, etc.) for half to one-third the price.

I had considered spending a month doing my grocery shopping at the 99 Cent Store to see if one could get good, healthy food. However, someone has beaten me to the punch: http://the99centchef.blogspot.com/ .  This is one I’ll follow with considerable interest.

One of my friends told me about a conversation she had with a third friend where they were discussing my weight loss. The third friend kept asking who I was losing the weight for and couldn’t grasp the idea that I wasn’t doing this for anyone but me.  

I periodically post my progress (alliteration! English majors will get that) on Facebook and I will see a whole bunch of “Likes” on the status. I share the progress because I feel elated and that I’m achieving something. I post to share the good feeling and only to share the good feeling. Even if the comments were “Shut up, Bitch” or “So what, you’re still fat”, I’d still hit the gym 6 days a week and do what I’m doing. I like the routine I’ve established (the right knee doesn’t share my enthusiasm. It’s achy right now, but I don’t see Dr. Best for a few weeks because, and this is ironic, he had to have knee surgery at the end of December). I like the friends I’ve made there (Fucktard notwithstanding. He was screaming at someone else the other day). If I didn’t believe in what I was doing, I wouldn’t continue doing it, even if everybody I knew was telling me to stick with it. They aren’t inside my skin and my head. I’m doing this for me. At the end of the day, it’s just me.

So, if you’re one of the red, sweaty faces at the gym and you are DETERMINED to make this stick, be your own cheering section. And wipe off the elliptical before I get on it.

Up From the Depths...

183.6 lbs. Annoyed sigh coupled with disgusted snort BUT…

Wednesday was not a fun day for those of us in Red Sox Nation. Not for Braves fans, either, I expect. However, pitchers and catchers report to spring training in 4 months. Hope springs eternal. And suck it, Yankees.

Having felt so good after Monday’s Monster Burn (which did not result in the 5 lb. loss I experienced the first time I did it) and having finished my work in plenty of time, I resolved for Wednesday to outdo Monday and ramp it up to a Godzilla Burn (1 hour of weight training + 3 hours of cardio) provided the gym wasn’t over-crowded. That’s the beauty part of being me: too stupid and self-deluded to realize my limitations so I go ahead with the plan anyway.

I didn’t make it to 3 hours of cardio. Before the chorus of “Awwws” (save those for pictures of kittens. Kittens make me go “Awww.” I need a real home so I can have a kitty. Maybe 2), let me tell you what I DID manage to do.

1 hour of weight training, excluding the machines that were out of order.

2 hours on the elliptical, keeping the heart rate in the “fat burning” range. Knee was holding up fine (upper back was cranky, but that means the trapezius muscles have earned themselves more sessions with the rowing. This is tough lover for acting out). And yes, I made sure nobody was waiting for the machine before I started the second hour.

And…

45 minutes on the stationary bike. The only thing that kept me from knocking out the additional 15 minutes on the bike was the fact that the seat was so damned uncomfortable. It’s bad enough for a woman, but you know, you don’t hear about Tour De France riders having big families. I don’t think Lance Armstrong had testicular cancer so much as squashed McNuggets. I TRIED to tough it out, but my keyster has its limits.

According to My Net Diary, this was good for over 2,000 calories burned. Hoo wah!

Today was a session with Dr. Best who is VERY pleased with my knee (Look out, Rotating Staircase of Death) and knocked over by the King Kong Burn (Not quite Godzilla, but bigger than your basic, generic, vanilla Monster Burn. I’ve seen “King Kong versus Godzilla.” Godzilla kicked Kong’s hairy ass all over Tokyo). He tested muscles and flexibility and gave me his blessing to continue working out to this level, cautioning me to stay hydrated (my lumbar region was cramping up on me. He didn’t find anything wrong and, using the easiest fix first principle, suggested that dehydration may be the culprit. It’s the Great American Fix: “Just Add Water.” Or duct tape).

I can do this. With sufficient access to the equipment, I can kick Godzilla’s ass. And my own in the process. Granted, this is not an everyday thing, but I can do it when the opportunity presents. And I have lost enough weight that I can take the San Diego Wildlife Park Zipline Tour, which I REALLY want to do. Anybody want to go with me? COMMENT!!!

What I cannot do (YET) is a push up. Marine Corps, girlie, Rocky Balboa, Pilates, Chadaranda, judo or plain, I cannot yet complete 1 push up. However, I promise you this: I’m not going to hit my original weight deadline (even with the stomach flu from Hell and THAT’S not going to happen because I got my flu shot. This year’s flavor is H1N1. Your insurance most likely covers it and you can stroll into Rite Aid or CVS to get one. I HIGHLY recommend it. Out of pocket? $27.95, but that’s cheap compared to losing 5 days’ pay because you’re too sick or risking the hatred of your co-workers because you infected them. Remember: I dislike false economy) but I WILL complete a push up by December 31,2011, as God is my witness and I will be ready to take down any and all zombie Girl Scouts that come my way (weird, scary dream and particularly memorable).

I can’t wait for tomorrow to get here so I can hit the gym again and successfully complete a Godzilla Burn. The Big Green Guy breathed fire. If I hit that damned bike for an hour, oh, I’ll have fire coming out of me all right, but…

If a Volkswagen Leaves LA Driving East....

183.2 lbs. This simply will not do.

However, the skin and sinuses are clearing up, the mindless grazing has gone the way of the dodo, so I’m thinking the sugar that upset the chemical balance is leaching out of the system and the weight will come off. I have a goal of 125 by Dec. 31, 2011. Two weeks ago, it was easily do-able as I was proceeding. 6 lbs. up and sticking? Causin’ problems. I programmed My Net Diary (or, if you could get cheese over the internet, My Net Dairy) with the goal (although I made a mistake and input Jan 10, 2012 instead of Jan 01, 2012. It’s a happy accident). MND analyzes your goal, where you are, the time difference and gives you a recommended calorie intake. It has cut mine DRASTICALLY over the past few days.

Since I am doing everything I can to get things back on track (Well, let me clarify: everything within reason. I’m not about to quit my job so I can get back to the old gym schedule. I’ve done some wrong-headed and misguided things in my life. That would be one of them), the best thing I can do is focus on my job and keep on keepin’ on, as the saying goes, with respect to diet and exercise. Sugar has been exorcised from the kitchen (“OUT DEMON HYDROCARBON!!!! THE POWER OF SPLENDA COMPELS YOU!!!!”). Lacking the financial means to hire Richard Simmons for this purpose, I did it myself.

I ain’t happy, of course. I figure if I’ve got a little software program telling me “if you lose this number of calories per day, you will  lose that number of ounces” and I have complied with the little software program, then I expect to see the number of ounces promised deducted from the daily weigh-in. I view it as a contract; I am holding up my end. Or so I think.

And, of course, the Red Sox are not helping distract me at the moment. Kansas City just hit back to back home runs and Terry Francona  is not listening to me yell, “Pull him, Tito!” with respect to the pitcher. Of course, the man is 3,000 miles away, but I am nothing if not loud (or so I’ve been told. Many times. Like it’s a bad thing). (NB. Pitching change. Maybe he heard me).

This will pass. I know it. Do I have to adjust my expectations? Maybe. Probably. What bothers me about the new schedule is that Torquemada told me (and she is a personal trainer, so I listen) that in order to hit my goal, I would have to weight train 3 times a week, yoga and Pilates 3 times a week and at least an hour of cardio 6 days a week. I am absolutely willing to put in that kind of effort. Unfortunately, I can’t do that and get my work done before midnight every night. I will have to sign up for more training and see what she says.

Oh, I still want to hit that 125 lbs. goal, not so much for the number, but for the “I set a goal, I kept my eyes on the prize and I made it” feeling. That’s genuine accomplishment. And then the weight loss project becomes the weight maintenance project. The goal is not the end of the road so much as it is the road map. It’s a landmark, I guess. I’m losing you. Okay: let’s put this in terms of travel, since I brought up journey and landmark language. We’ll call the goal the Empire State Building (and I have been to the top of that, for the record. Macy’s was doing their annual mass tap dancing gathering; they try to break the record every year and it was a blast to see it from that perspective). Okay, so here’s the question and this gets us thinking about what our real priorities are: We know that the Empire State Building is in New York City, so we know where we’re going. But, are we going to just  visit the building and then immediately leave New York because we got what we came to do? Or are we more interested in incorporating that into more time spent in New York? I see a parallel in the weight loss journey (and since I’m committing this to the permanent record, I am soooooo sick of the use of “journey” for every process we undertake as human beings including living. In the future, please limit it to actual travel or the band that sings “Don’t Stop Believing.”)Yeah, I’d like to get to New York and go up in the Empire State Building (the last time I was there, the view south was dominated by a pair of Twin Towers down in the Battery), but I’d like to stay in that area for as long as I feasibly can. The ESB got me there, but the locale keeps me there.

So, 125 lbs. makes a focus point for me; something to aim at. Okay, it sits in the middle of some attractive territory for me: smaller dress sizes, more defined, stronger body, an actual body image that conforms to the picture I have in my mind of what I want to be. I’m not going to hit the number , put on a party hat, take a picture of the scale (although I just might. No confetti, though. I weigh myself naked and you never know where that stuff will lodge) and then close up shop and go back to what I was doing (or not doing) food and exercise wise back in January. This is the decision making I was doing when I came to the end of the HCG protocol (which I’ve decided I WILL do again. You will have a front row seat); I knew if I wanted to maintain my progress and build on it some more, I was going to have to change the way I did things. Gluten is out, exercise and enough water to float a yacht is in. I eat enough chicken that I should be clucking. Beef is a once a month treat.  Sugar and starch are now on the blacklist (I can live without noodles and bread and rice, but this boots potatoes, too. Rats). Chard is in (Good stuff, too. I would have refused it as a kid, but I guess your taste buds change as you age and the bitter or astringent things you didn’t like when younger get more tolerable as you get older. It’s got a great, earthy taste, sautés quickly to tenderness and loves a good dash of garlic and apple cider vinegar) . Bourbon, formerly enjoyed with a good ribeye, is now on the shelf. This is all on the road to 125 or the Empire State Building. This (stupid, effing, lousy, rotten, ding-blasted) spike and plateau that I’m experiencing is the equivalent of a traffic jam (Carmageddon, maybe. Or one of those classic million member herd of buffalo crossing the road ahead of my car) or snowstorm forcing me off the road (I hate winter). Now, I could choose to turn around and go home because of the delay. I am not going to do that. I will not get to see the Empire State Building (unless I’m watching “Sleepless in Seattle”) if I turn around. I will not get to experience the other delights of New York (they exist, they’re just not in the Bronx wearing pinstripes) if I turn around. I ain’t turning around.

I will not be denied.

Too Sexy for My Jeans (Well, Not Quite)

186.6 lbs. You would think burning 1200 calories in one day would get you somewhere. I’m suspecting sugar intake (sweetened non-fat yogurt and sweetened gluten-free granola). Sugar is inflammatory to the pancreas and the liver. I have emailed Trader Joe’s asking them to come up with a gluten free granola with a lower sugar content. They said they’d look into it. I believe them. Trader Joe’s listens to its customers.

New rules for Presidential candidates: You must appear on “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader” and win, emphasis on American History, Civics and Geography. I will not name names, but the leading Charismatic Idiot punted the football on a point of American history so basic, it’s practically encoded in our DNA. You know, Idaho (the CI’s place of birth) and Alaska (the CI’s current safe haven and proclaimed beloved homeland although she now has a home in Arizona. John McCain must be ready to hang himself) are awfully close to Canada. Can SHE produce a birth certificate? That isn’t Canadian? I have my doubts. Okay, to be fair (who am I kidding?): She did say “warn the British” but finished with something like “that they couldn’t take away our liberty (or guns?).” That kind of fumble tongue is what causes international incidents. She then went on to say that Paul Revere had rung the bells in the Old North Church. Ain’t nobody ringing no damned bells that night because that would have, in fact, WARNED THE BRITISH (the HMS Somerset was at anchor not too far away. Part of the team that carried out the warning TO THE COLONISTS (who were technically British, I suppose) had to row past the Somerset to carry out their end of the mission; I’m thinking it was Revere. I’d have to go CHECK THE FACTS. (One thing I keep forgetting to look up is whether the Boston Marathon route is linked to Revere’s ride. It is a Patriot’s Day tradition and Revere (and the Minute Men) kicked that off in 1775).

The sad thing is that there are probably good, capable people in the Republican Party who could ably lead the country, but we’re never going to hear about them because they’re getting shouted down and crowded out by the spotlight-hogging fucktards (you heard me) who have shown themselves to lack character and courage, but by God, they sell a ton of books. People of America, we deserve better and it’s about goddamn time we demanded it. We are not a nation of dumb, easily dazzled and misled sheep.

But I digress.

14^th inning for the Red Sox and Oakland As. This is why Red Sox fans drink.

I had a bit of a cheat with sweet potato fries at Red Robin today (turkey burger, no bun, tomato slices, lettuce and a very little swipe of the chipotle sauce). I may pay for it tomorrow on the scale, but that would make a change from 186.6. I may have to do another Monster Monday workout.

But that’s not the biggest deal of the day. Or maybe I should say “not so big” deal.

Right now, I’m wearing a pair of size 14 Not Your Daughter’s Jeans with Tummy Tuck Technology. The Triple T allows you to wear a size smaller than you would normally. As previously mentioned in earlier posts, they’re made in the USA. Pricey, but you can find them at Nordstrom Rack for a discount (I don’t know about Marshalls, Ross or TJ Maxx, but I imagine it’s worth investigating).  These are high-waisted “mom” jeans (such a dumbass term), but they are excellent quality garments and worth their cost.

Mine are loose. And I just washed them.

If you are a regular reader, you know that among my Holy Grail garments are two pairs of Levi 501 jeans. These are buried in my storage unit, probably next to the crate containing the Ark of the Covenant (which explains the persistent humming sound). They are, without a doubt, the most flattering jeans I’ve ever pulled up.(from the butt downward. Nothing makes the Great White Belly look good).

Emboldened by the loose (ish) waistband of my current size 14 jeans, I undertook a reconnaissance mission at the Levi’s Store today. I encountered a helpful, very friendly (and kind) salesman named Michael who had no problem with my trying but not buying. He brought a pair of 501s and another pair of “boyfriend cut” (I think they were 511s). Drumroll, please.

The 501s (max waist 30, I think. Size 13), I could pull up but not button. Not a downer though: I COULD PULL THEM UP OVER MY HIPS. This is good, this is progress.

Okay, the 511s. Waist 31, inseam 32: PULLED UP, ZIPPED AND I COULD BREATHE!!!!!! These are lower rise jeans than the NYDJs, so the Great White Belly has to go down even more before I’d wear them (Not muffin tops, FLABALANCHE). They’re skinnier cut through the legs than usual (Look, if you’re plus sized, everything is boot cut unless you’re in jeggings) and they flatter my legs AND BUTT.  (Admit it, Ladies, that’s the biggest priority when we’re shopping for jeans. Why don’t men care as much about their asses? Is it because of the fart lighting obsession?). But I could wear them now , if I want to, that’s the biggest point! Even after sweet potato fries! Oh, Motivation, you move in mysterious ways!

I am going to bust this lousy plateau. One of the things I mentally chant to myself to keep going on the Rotating Staircase of Death or push through the cardio burst (greater speed and resistance on the elliptical, jogging on the treadmill) is this: “Eyes on the prize. Keep your eyes on the prize.”

The prize is still off in the distance, but if I don’t need the binoculars to see it anymore. Every step on the RSoD or elliptical is a step closer to it.