Three and a half years ago, when I was pregnant with Lulu, I had a mole removed from my breast because it had appeared suddenly after I found out I was pregnant. The dermatologist assured me it was probably benign, but had it biopsied nonetheless. Good thing he did - he called me personally a few days later (as opposed to having the nurse call - never a good sign) and told me it was the beginning stages of a melanoma. I had to have the entire area excised and fortunately, they got it all and every checkup since has deemed me cancer-free. I've had a couple moles removed since then, only to find out they were, thank goodness, benign, but not before several days of panic and worry that it was a melanoma again.
Today is my checkup with the skin cancer doctor. I haven't noticed anything unusual on my body, so I'm hopeful for good news, but I never know. I always feel a little anxious at my checkups until I'm given a clean bill of health. I'm extremely fair (blonde hair, blue eyes, easily-burnt skin) so I'm a shoe-in for skin cancer and I've known that my whole life, but it's one of those things I thought I wouldn't have to worry about until I was older, like, senior citizen older. I thought wrong, clearly, and want to slap my naive, ignorant younger self who worshipped the sun and rubbed baby oil on her body before lying outside for hours. Strawberry blonde Lulu and platinum-haired Thor (as white as hair can get) will inherit my susceptibility, but hopefully not my ignorance.
Tonight is pizza night with my dad and stepmom, as they are leaving town tomorrow for three months. I think I'll have a couple of slices of pizza (thin crust, and lower calories than traditional pizza) rather than a salad. The sodium will kill me, but the calories will not. But I think good news or not, I deserve a little extra salt tonight! I was virtuous this weekend, made good choices eating out, and kept snacking to a minimum. I'm dying for pizza, and if I'm going to have it, this is the pizza to have.
Wish me luck today for a clean bill of health.Will update tonight or tomorrow.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Sweet Potatoes and Why 60 Isn't the Magic Number
One of my favorite breakfasts for the past several years has been hashbrowns with over-easy eggs. Only, before, I would fill the entire huge skillet with 'browns and toss 3 eggs on top of it. Moderation, my friends. Moderation. Now, about a cup's worth of hashbrowns and one egg, approximately 150 calories of goodness. But today, I grated some sweet potato instead and made homemade sweet potato hashbrowns. Sweet potatoes are about the same number of calories of regular white potatoes, but have more fiber and less starch. Basically, they'll keep you feeling full longer and won't cause you to crash and burn come lunchtime. The verdict? Semi-successful. They came out a bit soggy on the inside and a little burnt on the outside, but I think they were too water-logged. I think drying them out on some paper towels before cooking (over just a spritz of Pam, natch) would result in greater success next time.
Lunch today will be yogurt with marionberries again, a berry which Lulu has discovered and loves just a bit frozen. Of course, Thor looks at them like they're tainted and smashes them, but at least one kid loves these anti-oxidant rich berries. And then tonight is the Girls' Night Out, and I managed to convince bff to change the venue to a restaurant with healthier options. She was game, so making a healthy choice tonight should be a simpler task.
So, one might wonder why it is that my weight loss goal is about 45-50 total pounds rather than 60, the amount that I gained. I'll explain why. Before, I was thin. Very thin. Size-fours-were-too-big-on-me thin. Mind you, I am not a big-boned person, so my healthy BMI should be on the lower-to-mid point of the BMI scale for my height, but I was beyond the lower point. The explanation is simple and complicated and has a lot to do with Thor, actually.
To say the least, Thor was a colicky baby. He was diagnosed with reflux a couple weeks after birth and within a few months, we had him on the max amount of reflux meds with only a little relief. While other babies his age slept hours at a time without a peep, he woke up screaming in pain every half hour to hour. Saying my heart was broken is an understatement. Z and I felt helpless and lost, not knowing what to do to keep our precious son feeling well and not in pain. Meanwhile, Thor's weight kept slipping lower and lower on the infant percentile charts. He got down to the 3rd percentile for several months.
At this point, it is necessary to add that I was nursing Thor at the time. Lulu had nursed until she was 2 years old, at which point the kids' pediatrician said that Thor was just too tiny to allow Lulu to steal any calories from him. Weaning her was difficult on both of us and involved a lot of Lulu-branded temper tantrums, but she got used to Thor being the only nursing child in the house in time. We waited for his weight to go up, but it didn't. Meanwhile, his weight percentile dipped lower and lower. At this time, I was also become sicker and sicker myself with my rheumatoid arthritis. My appetite plunged, as I was too miserable to feel hungry. There was speculation amongst Thor's doctors that due to my poor health, my breastmilk was suffering and although I was producing enough, it wasn't rich enough in calories and nutrients.
Before making the decision to send Thor to a pediatric GI doc, his pediatrician wanted to try one more test for allergies. After assessing several of his diapers, the conclusion was clear: he had blood in his diapers (invisible to the naked eye) which was almost entirely conclusive of milk/soy protein intolerance (often mislabeled as allergy, but is an actual intolerance as most children outgrown it in time as their little bodies learn to process the proteins better). I had two choices: either cut milk and soy out of my diet completely, or switch to hypoallergenic formula. Having nursed Lulu for two years, I felt I owed it to Thor to try eliminating dairy and soy from my diet to see how he did. This meant I couldn't eat *anything* with milk or soy, including most breads, cereals, many spice mixes, and the obvious things like cheese, tofu, etc. I had to home-make almost everything on my plate to ensure that everything I ate was completely soy and dairy free.
The result? A completely new baby, an improved and happier Thor. Within three days on the new diet, he was sleeping hours at a time, hardly fussing at all, and began smiling and laughing. Smiling and laughing! Things I never thought I'd see him do! When something with dairy or soy got into my food (such as when I went to a party and was promised something was safe, but learned later it wasn't), he reverted back into Old Thor. We had found our problem, and I couldn't be more thankful.
But I was still sick, and now I was on an extremely restricted diet. My weight plummeted. I was buying new clothes every month or two as I shrunk out of the previous size. Factor in a dose of postpartum depression (courtesy of my, Thor's, and even Z's [a story for another time] health problems) and I had no reason or even ability to chow down. Finally, breastfeeding gobbles up oodles of your body's daily calories, a fact that resounded nicely back in my desire-to-lose-weight days, but wound up perhaps being detrimental later.
And then, Thor got better. He outgrew his intolerance, as evidenced by his ability to take just tiny amounts of soy and dairy at about 12 months of age. I weaned Thor, which meant I no longer was burning calories by nursing. My health got better, thanks to prednsisone, and my postpartum depression turned into an elation that I had a healthy and happy family. And I ate. And ate some more. Made up for all the lost time, used my prednisone as a (generally valid but still over-attributing) excuse. I gained those 60 pounds, no problem. After gaining the first 15 or so, I got compliments that I looked better, and this leads me to the final point that it's not 60 pounds I need to lose to get down to my optimal weight, but probably 45-50.
That was a long story made...long. But it's a pivotal story and explains my weight fluctuations the past year and where my mindset is. I'll take a healthy little boy any day of the week over anything else, but now I can have his healthy *and* my health. If I can have both, I will. My health means being able to be there for my kids in a way I couldn't before. I can do things with them I couldn't before, and keeping my weight down means more years with my original joints, more years to be active and healthy. I had a dream last night that I was confined to a wheelchair, something I want to avoid for many, many decades, even forever. Maintaining a healthy weight just means giving my body a little break from carrying too much around, and that buys me time. Time for myself, time for my family. It's easy to get negligent when it's only yourself at stake, but when it comes to one's family, the decision is more critical, and that is what drives me today, and that is what will make me healthy in the end.
Lunch today will be yogurt with marionberries again, a berry which Lulu has discovered and loves just a bit frozen. Of course, Thor looks at them like they're tainted and smashes them, but at least one kid loves these anti-oxidant rich berries. And then tonight is the Girls' Night Out, and I managed to convince bff to change the venue to a restaurant with healthier options. She was game, so making a healthy choice tonight should be a simpler task.
So, one might wonder why it is that my weight loss goal is about 45-50 total pounds rather than 60, the amount that I gained. I'll explain why. Before, I was thin. Very thin. Size-fours-were-too-big-on-me thin. Mind you, I am not a big-boned person, so my healthy BMI should be on the lower-to-mid point of the BMI scale for my height, but I was beyond the lower point. The explanation is simple and complicated and has a lot to do with Thor, actually.
To say the least, Thor was a colicky baby. He was diagnosed with reflux a couple weeks after birth and within a few months, we had him on the max amount of reflux meds with only a little relief. While other babies his age slept hours at a time without a peep, he woke up screaming in pain every half hour to hour. Saying my heart was broken is an understatement. Z and I felt helpless and lost, not knowing what to do to keep our precious son feeling well and not in pain. Meanwhile, Thor's weight kept slipping lower and lower on the infant percentile charts. He got down to the 3rd percentile for several months.
At this point, it is necessary to add that I was nursing Thor at the time. Lulu had nursed until she was 2 years old, at which point the kids' pediatrician said that Thor was just too tiny to allow Lulu to steal any calories from him. Weaning her was difficult on both of us and involved a lot of Lulu-branded temper tantrums, but she got used to Thor being the only nursing child in the house in time. We waited for his weight to go up, but it didn't. Meanwhile, his weight percentile dipped lower and lower. At this time, I was also become sicker and sicker myself with my rheumatoid arthritis. My appetite plunged, as I was too miserable to feel hungry. There was speculation amongst Thor's doctors that due to my poor health, my breastmilk was suffering and although I was producing enough, it wasn't rich enough in calories and nutrients.
Before making the decision to send Thor to a pediatric GI doc, his pediatrician wanted to try one more test for allergies. After assessing several of his diapers, the conclusion was clear: he had blood in his diapers (invisible to the naked eye) which was almost entirely conclusive of milk/soy protein intolerance (often mislabeled as allergy, but is an actual intolerance as most children outgrown it in time as their little bodies learn to process the proteins better). I had two choices: either cut milk and soy out of my diet completely, or switch to hypoallergenic formula. Having nursed Lulu for two years, I felt I owed it to Thor to try eliminating dairy and soy from my diet to see how he did. This meant I couldn't eat *anything* with milk or soy, including most breads, cereals, many spice mixes, and the obvious things like cheese, tofu, etc. I had to home-make almost everything on my plate to ensure that everything I ate was completely soy and dairy free.
The result? A completely new baby, an improved and happier Thor. Within three days on the new diet, he was sleeping hours at a time, hardly fussing at all, and began smiling and laughing. Smiling and laughing! Things I never thought I'd see him do! When something with dairy or soy got into my food (such as when I went to a party and was promised something was safe, but learned later it wasn't), he reverted back into Old Thor. We had found our problem, and I couldn't be more thankful.
But I was still sick, and now I was on an extremely restricted diet. My weight plummeted. I was buying new clothes every month or two as I shrunk out of the previous size. Factor in a dose of postpartum depression (courtesy of my, Thor's, and even Z's [a story for another time] health problems) and I had no reason or even ability to chow down. Finally, breastfeeding gobbles up oodles of your body's daily calories, a fact that resounded nicely back in my desire-to-lose-weight days, but wound up perhaps being detrimental later.
And then, Thor got better. He outgrew his intolerance, as evidenced by his ability to take just tiny amounts of soy and dairy at about 12 months of age. I weaned Thor, which meant I no longer was burning calories by nursing. My health got better, thanks to prednsisone, and my postpartum depression turned into an elation that I had a healthy and happy family. And I ate. And ate some more. Made up for all the lost time, used my prednisone as a (generally valid but still over-attributing) excuse. I gained those 60 pounds, no problem. After gaining the first 15 or so, I got compliments that I looked better, and this leads me to the final point that it's not 60 pounds I need to lose to get down to my optimal weight, but probably 45-50.
That was a long story made...long. But it's a pivotal story and explains my weight fluctuations the past year and where my mindset is. I'll take a healthy little boy any day of the week over anything else, but now I can have his healthy *and* my health. If I can have both, I will. My health means being able to be there for my kids in a way I couldn't before. I can do things with them I couldn't before, and keeping my weight down means more years with my original joints, more years to be active and healthy. I had a dream last night that I was confined to a wheelchair, something I want to avoid for many, many decades, even forever. Maintaining a healthy weight just means giving my body a little break from carrying too much around, and that buys me time. Time for myself, time for my family. It's easy to get negligent when it's only yourself at stake, but when it comes to one's family, the decision is more critical, and that is what drives me today, and that is what will make me healthy in the end.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Lucky Friday the 13th!
'Tis a beautiful day in this blogger's household. The kids woke up in great moods, I feel rested and healthy (knock on wood), and we have the weekend in front of us. Who can resist a day like this?
I do have a challenge facing me this weekend, or shall I say, several challenges. The first, on Saturday night, is a "girls' night out." We are meeting at a trendy restaurant notorious for their unique (and fattening) spins on homey foods, as well as their decadent desserts. Just eying the menu makes me salivate. Then there are the drinks - specialty mixed drinks, astronomical in sugar and calorie content. What to do? Order the healthiest thing on the menu, I suppose, and stick to water, diet soda, coffee, or tea. Tough, tough choices, especially when I know everyone around me will be indulging to their hearts' content. But then we move to Sunday night, where we are having out best friends over for dinner. Somehow, when we have dinner guests, that is when I'm most likely to munch on crap mindlessly. The popcorn my husband makes for the movie, the cookies my friends bring, the bread we never make for ourselves but bring out for dinner guests...it's all tempting. I still have my choices, and I'm just hoping my willpower reflects my desire to stick to my plan. And then Monday is the last dinner I'll have with my dad and stepmom before they go off to another (cooler) part of the country for the summer. Every year, I know they're leaving, and every year, I get distraught. No stress eating for me, please. Please let me find a better outlet this year.
Meanwhile, here I am, about 6 weeks post Humira. I'm about halfway to my assessment point of 3 months, wherein I decide whether it is working for me. The past few days, the fingers in my right hand have felt bruised and swollen, hot and tender to the touch and my wrists have ached. But it's such a vast improvement from days of hardly being able to walk or even lift a glass that I can hardly complain. After walking too much, my knees will ache, and after holding Thor too long, my shoulders and elbows will stiffen, and all these aches and pains could be cured with the prednisone, but I won't do it. Not unless it becomes unbearable again. I weaned myself off, and would like to stay off.
Last night, I did what almost felt like a cheat, but wasn't. One of our favorite meals around our house is having an steamed artichoke with hollandaise sauce, but of course, hollandaise is out of the question thanks to the entire stick of butter that goes into it. In the past, I've substituted with yogurt, but last night, I decided to up the decadence factor by making a yogurt-based Bearnaise. I mixed 1 cup of fat-free Greek yogurt with 3 egg yolks (I know, I know...not great, but better than the butter it calls for) and mixed in a reduced mixture of 2 tablespoons each of white wine and white vinegar, 1 teaspoon of tarragon (could have used more, actually), and a tablespoon of chopped shallots, and I whisked the mixture on a double boiler until thickened. DELICIOUS. Z (my husband) and Lulu loved it and it tasted like actual Bearnaise sauce but at a fraction of the calories and fat, and with just a little bit of tartness from the yogurt (which could be resolved with a little sweetener, if one chooses). One large artichoke and just a little bit of herb-roasted chicken (for protein), and I was full and satiated.
Tonight is rotisserie chicken night, courtesy of Costco (who, seriously, makes the best rotisserie chicken ever). I might throw a bit (sans skin, of course) over some greens and turn it into a chicken salad. Perhaps Lulu will even follow my lead and do the same.
Finally, today represents a Big Day for me, the day of reaching my first goal (which corresponds to an actual weight, not weight lost, but weight lost is almost 14 pounds). Progress! The next goal (about 6 pounds away) seems like weeks away, but then again, my first goal seemed so far away at some point, too. It's easy to get discouraged, but I just have to set small goals remind myself that with each passing day, I get a little bit closer to my Ultimate Goal (which, in fact, is not 60 pounds, despite my description. Another day will be devoted to why it is not 60 pounds).
Happy Friday the 13th! Hope it's a lucky one for everyone!
I do have a challenge facing me this weekend, or shall I say, several challenges. The first, on Saturday night, is a "girls' night out." We are meeting at a trendy restaurant notorious for their unique (and fattening) spins on homey foods, as well as their decadent desserts. Just eying the menu makes me salivate. Then there are the drinks - specialty mixed drinks, astronomical in sugar and calorie content. What to do? Order the healthiest thing on the menu, I suppose, and stick to water, diet soda, coffee, or tea. Tough, tough choices, especially when I know everyone around me will be indulging to their hearts' content. But then we move to Sunday night, where we are having out best friends over for dinner. Somehow, when we have dinner guests, that is when I'm most likely to munch on crap mindlessly. The popcorn my husband makes for the movie, the cookies my friends bring, the bread we never make for ourselves but bring out for dinner guests...it's all tempting. I still have my choices, and I'm just hoping my willpower reflects my desire to stick to my plan. And then Monday is the last dinner I'll have with my dad and stepmom before they go off to another (cooler) part of the country for the summer. Every year, I know they're leaving, and every year, I get distraught. No stress eating for me, please. Please let me find a better outlet this year.
Meanwhile, here I am, about 6 weeks post Humira. I'm about halfway to my assessment point of 3 months, wherein I decide whether it is working for me. The past few days, the fingers in my right hand have felt bruised and swollen, hot and tender to the touch and my wrists have ached. But it's such a vast improvement from days of hardly being able to walk or even lift a glass that I can hardly complain. After walking too much, my knees will ache, and after holding Thor too long, my shoulders and elbows will stiffen, and all these aches and pains could be cured with the prednisone, but I won't do it. Not unless it becomes unbearable again. I weaned myself off, and would like to stay off.
Last night, I did what almost felt like a cheat, but wasn't. One of our favorite meals around our house is having an steamed artichoke with hollandaise sauce, but of course, hollandaise is out of the question thanks to the entire stick of butter that goes into it. In the past, I've substituted with yogurt, but last night, I decided to up the decadence factor by making a yogurt-based Bearnaise. I mixed 1 cup of fat-free Greek yogurt with 3 egg yolks (I know, I know...not great, but better than the butter it calls for) and mixed in a reduced mixture of 2 tablespoons each of white wine and white vinegar, 1 teaspoon of tarragon (could have used more, actually), and a tablespoon of chopped shallots, and I whisked the mixture on a double boiler until thickened. DELICIOUS. Z (my husband) and Lulu loved it and it tasted like actual Bearnaise sauce but at a fraction of the calories and fat, and with just a little bit of tartness from the yogurt (which could be resolved with a little sweetener, if one chooses). One large artichoke and just a little bit of herb-roasted chicken (for protein), and I was full and satiated.
Tonight is rotisserie chicken night, courtesy of Costco (who, seriously, makes the best rotisserie chicken ever). I might throw a bit (sans skin, of course) over some greens and turn it into a chicken salad. Perhaps Lulu will even follow my lead and do the same.
Finally, today represents a Big Day for me, the day of reaching my first goal (which corresponds to an actual weight, not weight lost, but weight lost is almost 14 pounds). Progress! The next goal (about 6 pounds away) seems like weeks away, but then again, my first goal seemed so far away at some point, too. It's easy to get discouraged, but I just have to set small goals remind myself that with each passing day, I get a little bit closer to my Ultimate Goal (which, in fact, is not 60 pounds, despite my description. Another day will be devoted to why it is not 60 pounds).
Happy Friday the 13th! Hope it's a lucky one for everyone!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
3 Weeks In!
After 21 days, I can boast almost a 13 pound loss! I got my first "notice" yesterday when a friend mentioned that I was looking trimmer. I thought it'd take another 10 pounds or so before anyone noticed, so I was happily surprised and welcomed the compliment! Even when I look in the mirror, I see a difference and that doesn't even begin to speak of the difference I feel. If I feel this way after 13 pounds, imagine how I'll feel at 30 pounds! Or 45 pounds!
Mother's Day came and went with flowers, cards, and the most adorable recital of "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!" from a three-year-old ever (well coached by her daddy, of course, but that almost made it more endearing). We went for a lovely lunch where I ate less than half of my meal, and after a dinner with my father and stepmom, consisting of a small steak and steamed veggies, I ate the teeniest portion of cheesecake ever. The scale reflected weight gain (probably water retention) the next day, but was lost - and then some - by the next day. The last two nights, I made what my husband calls "Mondo Salads," consisting of about 1 1/2 heads of romaine lettuce, 3 oz of grilled chicken, tomatoes, a couple tablespoons of canned corn, and light Cesar dressing. Seriously, and I'm not just saying this, it is one of my favorite meals. I enjoy these salads so much (and have for a couple years now) that Lulu often asks for her own salad, seeing how much I savor mine.
She's a strange breed, Lulu. She's more likely to finish the salad in her bowl than the spaghetti on her plate. On the rare occasion where we eat out, she never touches French fries and gobbles down her fruit instead. She's learning fairly good eating practices early on, though she does have quite the sweet tooth and once happily gobbled down three lollipops while getting her hair cut. Still, she's not a grease-eater, and that is just fine by me. I envy her natural inclinations and am trying to get where she is, naturally.
Tonight is stir fry night, although the word "fry" is a misnomer, as we really just sautee the veggies with a tiny, quick spray of Pam and let them steam the rest of the way. I throw in some chicken strips, coat lightly with teriyaki sauce (which is, unfortunately, deceptively high in calories, sodium, and sugar), and make it a meal.
This morning, I stirred some defrosted marionberries in my Greek yogurt and, oh, wow, it was heaven. Tangy, sweet, a little sour, and so natural tasting. I'm finding my yogurt breakfasts are one of the highlights of my day, sometime I savor slowly and which fill me up, satisfyingly, for the rest of the morning. It should; one serving contains almost half my recommended daily dose of protein. Breakfast of champions indeed.
I'll tell you what's still tough, though: kiddie leftovers. They are the bane of my existence. Leftover quesadillas squares (Lulu and Thor love them occasionally), uneaten noodles with marinara sauce, a half of a bagel that Lulu asks for and then abandons once it's on her plate, the pizza she wanted yesterday while we were at a museum cafe but only ate a few bites of...it's all there, looking me in the eye, pleading, "Don't waste me!" Who knows where I got this mentality, but when I see food left on a plate, I feel it has to be eaten. I wish it were only my plate - I could deal with my plate, because then I'd only serve myself a reasonable portion meant to be finished - but oddly, I feel the same way looking at my my children's plates. And, hooo boy, seeing that pizza stare me in the face yesterday was hard, hard, hard. Hell, it was only museum cafe pizza, not even gourmet, fresh-ingredient-$20-a-pie pizza. But I took one mini bite, and I was sold. I wanted it. As soon as I became convinced that both Lulu and Thor were done, I tossed the rest of the pizza (almost half) in the trash. That is my only defense, throwing it in the trash. If it lingers in front of me, it WILL be eaten. It's like a silent challenge. It's like that "Seinfeld" episode where George fishes the eclair out of the trash. Once it's in the trash, it's garbage. At least, it should be. I have not fished anything out of the trash...yet. If I do, that will be an all time low, and I will need more help than just dieting.
Of course, the previous paragraph makes it seem like I only feed my children junk. I assure you, I do not. But they, like any kids, get the occasional treat, and heck, we all deserve the occasional treat. Like on Mother's Day, and my tiny slice of cheesecake. It's what we eat the rest of the time that matters, and if eating a huge salad inspires Lulu to want one of her own, then I know I've got to be doing something right.
Mother's Day came and went with flowers, cards, and the most adorable recital of "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!" from a three-year-old ever (well coached by her daddy, of course, but that almost made it more endearing). We went for a lovely lunch where I ate less than half of my meal, and after a dinner with my father and stepmom, consisting of a small steak and steamed veggies, I ate the teeniest portion of cheesecake ever. The scale reflected weight gain (probably water retention) the next day, but was lost - and then some - by the next day. The last two nights, I made what my husband calls "Mondo Salads," consisting of about 1 1/2 heads of romaine lettuce, 3 oz of grilled chicken, tomatoes, a couple tablespoons of canned corn, and light Cesar dressing. Seriously, and I'm not just saying this, it is one of my favorite meals. I enjoy these salads so much (and have for a couple years now) that Lulu often asks for her own salad, seeing how much I savor mine.
She's a strange breed, Lulu. She's more likely to finish the salad in her bowl than the spaghetti on her plate. On the rare occasion where we eat out, she never touches French fries and gobbles down her fruit instead. She's learning fairly good eating practices early on, though she does have quite the sweet tooth and once happily gobbled down three lollipops while getting her hair cut. Still, she's not a grease-eater, and that is just fine by me. I envy her natural inclinations and am trying to get where she is, naturally.
Tonight is stir fry night, although the word "fry" is a misnomer, as we really just sautee the veggies with a tiny, quick spray of Pam and let them steam the rest of the way. I throw in some chicken strips, coat lightly with teriyaki sauce (which is, unfortunately, deceptively high in calories, sodium, and sugar), and make it a meal.
This morning, I stirred some defrosted marionberries in my Greek yogurt and, oh, wow, it was heaven. Tangy, sweet, a little sour, and so natural tasting. I'm finding my yogurt breakfasts are one of the highlights of my day, sometime I savor slowly and which fill me up, satisfyingly, for the rest of the morning. It should; one serving contains almost half my recommended daily dose of protein. Breakfast of champions indeed.
I'll tell you what's still tough, though: kiddie leftovers. They are the bane of my existence. Leftover quesadillas squares (Lulu and Thor love them occasionally), uneaten noodles with marinara sauce, a half of a bagel that Lulu asks for and then abandons once it's on her plate, the pizza she wanted yesterday while we were at a museum cafe but only ate a few bites of...it's all there, looking me in the eye, pleading, "Don't waste me!" Who knows where I got this mentality, but when I see food left on a plate, I feel it has to be eaten. I wish it were only my plate - I could deal with my plate, because then I'd only serve myself a reasonable portion meant to be finished - but oddly, I feel the same way looking at my my children's plates. And, hooo boy, seeing that pizza stare me in the face yesterday was hard, hard, hard. Hell, it was only museum cafe pizza, not even gourmet, fresh-ingredient-$20-a-pie pizza. But I took one mini bite, and I was sold. I wanted it. As soon as I became convinced that both Lulu and Thor were done, I tossed the rest of the pizza (almost half) in the trash. That is my only defense, throwing it in the trash. If it lingers in front of me, it WILL be eaten. It's like a silent challenge. It's like that "Seinfeld" episode where George fishes the eclair out of the trash. Once it's in the trash, it's garbage. At least, it should be. I have not fished anything out of the trash...yet. If I do, that will be an all time low, and I will need more help than just dieting.
Of course, the previous paragraph makes it seem like I only feed my children junk. I assure you, I do not. But they, like any kids, get the occasional treat, and heck, we all deserve the occasional treat. Like on Mother's Day, and my tiny slice of cheesecake. It's what we eat the rest of the time that matters, and if eating a huge salad inspires Lulu to want one of her own, then I know I've got to be doing something right.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Two Accomplishments!
I am happy and proud today, one in an obvious way, and one in a more personal, less obvious way.
First, the obvious. In two weeks, I've lost close to 11 pounds! Woot! Now, I know that weight sheds very quickly at first and this is the most I'll probably ever lose in such a short amount of time, but it's a testament to the fact that I've adhered well to my diet and that what I'm doing is working. My "fat pants" (which were, sadly, tight on me) are loosening up, I'm able to slide my wedding ring off my finger without prying if off, and I just feel better overall.
The second accomplishment? Though it's not necessary my own conscious doing, but my body's, I'm happy to announce that as of a week now, I've been off the prednisone completely. I'm sorer than I was before I stopped, for certain, but I'll trade a little soreness for the dramatic decrease in appetite and cravings I've experienced. I feel like I used to before I started the steroids, when healthy eating came so much more naturally to me, when a diet didn't feel like a diet, but more the way a lifestyle should feel like. That's not to say I don't want carbs and grease and sugar. Absolutely. But my willpower seems to have increased tenfold, and my stomach rumbling decreased tenfold. I knew ending the prednisone would make a difference, but I didn't realize how much until I stopped. That also means the Humira (my biologic) is working! Again, I'm not 100%. My fingers are still stiff and swollen in the knuckles. My knees still click and protest in the morning. My wrists are still unstable and unable to pick my children up for more than a few seconds. But it's progress. Right now, it's good enough, and I feel better now, off the prednisone, than I did on the prednisone with less pain in my body.
Chances are good I'll have to go back on the steroids someday, but until then, I am taking advantage of this time to kick start my healthy eating. I will hopefully never, ever have a period of time in my life again where I'm on prednisone or cortisone for months - or even years - at a time, but rather just a few days to a couple weeks. No biggie if that's the case; I can handle that, and so can my body.
In the meantime, my nasty sinus infection is starting to clear up. It takes me longer to kick an infection thanks to my immunosuppressants, and I have to wait until I'm 100% better before taking my next dose of Humira, but right now, I'm so thankful to not be sick anymore. Please, let my household be illness free for more than a couple days at a time! I just want to enjoy this lovely weather with my lovely kids and my lovely husband, enjoying my (as of right now) lovely health. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I can break out the elliptical trainer - the one that has been sitting 100% new, 100% assembled, and 100% unused for over a year - within the next few weeks. One has to have goals, and that's a big one for me.
Tonight, I'm having dinner with a friend who's going through a rough patch. Ordinarily, she and I delight in going to decadent restaurants and sharing a gooey dessert, but tonight, I suggested a salad and sandwich place. I'll treat myself to a huge salad, which I know will be filling, and skip the dessert. Going out for meals can break any diet, but with enough preparation and planning, it doesn't have to.
Time to relax a bit while Lulu is at preschool and Thor naps. Ah, quiet bliss.
First, the obvious. In two weeks, I've lost close to 11 pounds! Woot! Now, I know that weight sheds very quickly at first and this is the most I'll probably ever lose in such a short amount of time, but it's a testament to the fact that I've adhered well to my diet and that what I'm doing is working. My "fat pants" (which were, sadly, tight on me) are loosening up, I'm able to slide my wedding ring off my finger without prying if off, and I just feel better overall.
The second accomplishment? Though it's not necessary my own conscious doing, but my body's, I'm happy to announce that as of a week now, I've been off the prednisone completely. I'm sorer than I was before I stopped, for certain, but I'll trade a little soreness for the dramatic decrease in appetite and cravings I've experienced. I feel like I used to before I started the steroids, when healthy eating came so much more naturally to me, when a diet didn't feel like a diet, but more the way a lifestyle should feel like. That's not to say I don't want carbs and grease and sugar. Absolutely. But my willpower seems to have increased tenfold, and my stomach rumbling decreased tenfold. I knew ending the prednisone would make a difference, but I didn't realize how much until I stopped. That also means the Humira (my biologic) is working! Again, I'm not 100%. My fingers are still stiff and swollen in the knuckles. My knees still click and protest in the morning. My wrists are still unstable and unable to pick my children up for more than a few seconds. But it's progress. Right now, it's good enough, and I feel better now, off the prednisone, than I did on the prednisone with less pain in my body.
Chances are good I'll have to go back on the steroids someday, but until then, I am taking advantage of this time to kick start my healthy eating. I will hopefully never, ever have a period of time in my life again where I'm on prednisone or cortisone for months - or even years - at a time, but rather just a few days to a couple weeks. No biggie if that's the case; I can handle that, and so can my body.
In the meantime, my nasty sinus infection is starting to clear up. It takes me longer to kick an infection thanks to my immunosuppressants, and I have to wait until I'm 100% better before taking my next dose of Humira, but right now, I'm so thankful to not be sick anymore. Please, let my household be illness free for more than a couple days at a time! I just want to enjoy this lovely weather with my lovely kids and my lovely husband, enjoying my (as of right now) lovely health. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I can break out the elliptical trainer - the one that has been sitting 100% new, 100% assembled, and 100% unused for over a year - within the next few weeks. One has to have goals, and that's a big one for me.
Tonight, I'm having dinner with a friend who's going through a rough patch. Ordinarily, she and I delight in going to decadent restaurants and sharing a gooey dessert, but tonight, I suggested a salad and sandwich place. I'll treat myself to a huge salad, which I know will be filling, and skip the dessert. Going out for meals can break any diet, but with enough preparation and planning, it doesn't have to.
Time to relax a bit while Lulu is at preschool and Thor naps. Ah, quiet bliss.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Long Day
Felt like all I've done is sleep this weekend, but in the end, that's worked to my favor since I'm finally feeling better. Such big news in our nation tonight, and I'm resigning to sleep instead, figuring the news will still be waiting in the morning.
Went to a kiddie birthday party tonight, replete with pizza and cake. I planned accordingly and had an eggwhite and veggie frittata for breakfast, just a snack for lunch, and then shared my pizza and cake with Thor so I didn't overdo it too much. I feel satiated from having not held back, but not overly guilty for indulging a bit since I made up by not having many calories earlier in the day.
Time for bed, as it beckons me softly, promising an even healthier tomorrow.
Went to a kiddie birthday party tonight, replete with pizza and cake. I planned accordingly and had an eggwhite and veggie frittata for breakfast, just a snack for lunch, and then shared my pizza and cake with Thor so I didn't overdo it too much. I feel satiated from having not held back, but not overly guilty for indulging a bit since I made up by not having many calories earlier in the day.
Time for bed, as it beckons me softly, promising an even healthier tomorrow.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
On the Subject of Support
No wonder I'm feeling like shizzle. I've got a sinus infection, as evidenced by the fact that rather than getting better, I kept feeling progressively worse and now feel like my head is going to implode. Infections are nothing to mess around with when you're immunocompromised, so I managed to get seen by a NP yesterday and got antibiotics.
I've barely eaten because I feel so awful, yet my weight has gone nowhere since what I do eat is rich with sodium. Meh, whatever. It'll all round out in the end.
Being sick, and having a fabulous husband who is watching the kids so I can rest, I've managed to keep up (for better or for worse, no pun intended) with the whole royal wedding spectacle. This is generally not a topic of interest to me, but when the rest of the world is watching, one feels compelled to see what the hell the big deal is.
Now, let's be honest: Kate Middleton is a knockout and has a figure that dreams are made of, but there's no question she's lost weight before her wedding. I'm not about to speculate as the the source of her weight loss, but some media have liberally thrown around accusatory ideas that would suggest a less-than-healthy weight loss approach. Can these royal women ever win? Lady Diana, Fergie, now Kate Middleton, always the under the microscope for being too chunky, too thin, too whatever. Being criticized by some for being too thin, Kate Middleton is in a lose-lose situation should she decide to even put on a few more post-wedding pounds, despite the fact that a few more pounds would look perfectly healthy on her.
That said, it makes me feel fortunate that my weight is my private business. Sure, I gained 60 pounds, and sure, I suspect friends and family probably nudged each other behind my back in disbelief, but hey, at least I didn't hear the whispers and start myself on a nasty downward spiral as a result. If I want to lose a few pounds, great. I'm supported by my family. If I gain a few pounds, no worries, they know if I've lost it once, I can lose it again. No speculation about how it happened. No accusatory tones. They just want me to be healthy and will support me in any way. I doubt I'll ever post my weight here even. I'll show what I've lost, but my weight = my business, and those who love me and support me understand that and never pry.
Moreover, I'm lucky that for the most part, my life lacks enablers. Sure, there is my pregnant friend who would love to have an eating buddy, but she also knows what it's like to try to diet and is one of my biggest supporters. My husband is hardly the complaining type when I cook healthy, and actually prefers it. Even going out to eat with my family (that is, the extended family who live in town), no one bats an eye when I order a salad or unbuttered wheat toast with my fruit platter.
Then there's Lulu and Thor, both of which enjoy a nice, junky treat every once in awhile. However, neither will turn down whole grain bread, unbuttered wheat noodles, or 98% fat free turkey hotdogs. It makes life easier that my children will eat healthy and that I don't have to keep junky food in the house. Out of sight, out of mind, and that's true for the whole family, not just me.
I know I'm lucky, and I'm lucky to realize I'm lucky. It helps me be more introspective, helps me be aware that support exists where I didn't even realize it existed. Many people use enablers in their lives as an excuse, but I can't use that as an excuse. And I'm lucky for that.
I've barely eaten because I feel so awful, yet my weight has gone nowhere since what I do eat is rich with sodium. Meh, whatever. It'll all round out in the end.
Being sick, and having a fabulous husband who is watching the kids so I can rest, I've managed to keep up (for better or for worse, no pun intended) with the whole royal wedding spectacle. This is generally not a topic of interest to me, but when the rest of the world is watching, one feels compelled to see what the hell the big deal is.
Now, let's be honest: Kate Middleton is a knockout and has a figure that dreams are made of, but there's no question she's lost weight before her wedding. I'm not about to speculate as the the source of her weight loss, but some media have liberally thrown around accusatory ideas that would suggest a less-than-healthy weight loss approach. Can these royal women ever win? Lady Diana, Fergie, now Kate Middleton, always the under the microscope for being too chunky, too thin, too whatever. Being criticized by some for being too thin, Kate Middleton is in a lose-lose situation should she decide to even put on a few more post-wedding pounds, despite the fact that a few more pounds would look perfectly healthy on her.
That said, it makes me feel fortunate that my weight is my private business. Sure, I gained 60 pounds, and sure, I suspect friends and family probably nudged each other behind my back in disbelief, but hey, at least I didn't hear the whispers and start myself on a nasty downward spiral as a result. If I want to lose a few pounds, great. I'm supported by my family. If I gain a few pounds, no worries, they know if I've lost it once, I can lose it again. No speculation about how it happened. No accusatory tones. They just want me to be healthy and will support me in any way. I doubt I'll ever post my weight here even. I'll show what I've lost, but my weight = my business, and those who love me and support me understand that and never pry.
Moreover, I'm lucky that for the most part, my life lacks enablers. Sure, there is my pregnant friend who would love to have an eating buddy, but she also knows what it's like to try to diet and is one of my biggest supporters. My husband is hardly the complaining type when I cook healthy, and actually prefers it. Even going out to eat with my family (that is, the extended family who live in town), no one bats an eye when I order a salad or unbuttered wheat toast with my fruit platter.
Then there's Lulu and Thor, both of which enjoy a nice, junky treat every once in awhile. However, neither will turn down whole grain bread, unbuttered wheat noodles, or 98% fat free turkey hotdogs. It makes life easier that my children will eat healthy and that I don't have to keep junky food in the house. Out of sight, out of mind, and that's true for the whole family, not just me.
I know I'm lucky, and I'm lucky to realize I'm lucky. It helps me be more introspective, helps me be aware that support exists where I didn't even realize it existed. Many people use enablers in their lives as an excuse, but I can't use that as an excuse. And I'm lucky for that.
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