Fundraiser Pizza happens

I’ve been thoroughly invested in my alternative exercise routine for several days, weeks, months?!?! all to no avail. Still no weight lost. I’ve been spending 20 to 30 sweat-heavy minutes fast walking on my treadmill several mornings a week, jog cutting my lawn, stretch painting my living room and squat gardening, but other than an increasingly nasty demeanor and creaky knees, nothing has happened.

My calorie count, I admit, has developed a mind of its own lately. I did eat some pizza the other day, but it was fundraiser pizza for a good cause and therefore doesn’t really count. Actually it’s amazing how many excuses for eating poorly I can come up with.

Celebration food, for example, is a gimme. When at parties, events and other social gatherings where food is provided it is expected that you eat whatever it is. I’m not one to disappoint and that's half the fun of the party. Cake, for example, if you don’t eat the cake at a celebration/birthday/wedding what kind of person does that make you? (other than skinny?)

The other day I went to a bar with my skinny coworker Angie and she ordered fried pickles. Granted, I did talk her into it, but I can’t help it that she could only eat half of them and virtually forced me to finish them, can I? I didn’t want to be rude, I’m trying to make friends here. Breaking bread, or in this case pickles, is how relationships are made. What was I supposed to do? Throw them out? My grandma would turn over in her grave. I come from a poor family and we just don’t waste perfectly good fried pickles, which probably helps explain the PHAT blog.

Guess who's back? My fat ass.

So ...

This is a fair representation of what I'd look like in a bathing suit.

This reminds me of a song, "So here we are again ... I guess it must be fate..."

Yeah. If I had to give advice to people who have lost weight and want to keep it off it would be to do the opposite of what I did. 

"I'll never eat like that again! I can't believe I ever did! I'm a changed person now, I'll never gain the weight back," said stupid me three years ago. 

... Well here I am four years and 20 pounds heavier (Shoves cookie down throat in despair). Slooow clap. I started noticing the gain this past year - it's been, as my mother would say, "a doozie." I confused chocolate cake with therapy, apparently. 

I don't know how it happened. ... I know exactly how it happened. A lot of reasons and one simple reason. I stopped counting calories. I thought I could self monitor and "guesstimate" the calories going into my mouth. Nope. Nada. No way, Jose. Clearly, I've been deeply underestimating my calories and my love of fresh pastries. 

Last night I sat on the couch to write with an unopened bag of Pepperidge Farm Double Chocolate Milanos. One hour later I reached into the bag and my hand went halfway down to reach the cookie - it was half empty! I had eaten at least ?? cookies without even realizing it (Grabs gut fat in disgust).

I am not proud of myself. Changes need to be made. Attention must be paid! 

This year, starting right now in the cold hard light of day, I aspire to lose about 40 pounds. Gulp. 

Help me out here: What are some of your weight-loss tricks?

Fat Snobbery

Since I've lost 30+ pounds (!) people ask me all the time about weight loss and exercise and wanna gab about nutrition and stuff, which is great. I want to spread my vast knowledge about all things fatness to the world, plus I love to hear myself talk.

Sometimes in the break room at work I'll just hang out and wait for someone to approach me and ask about, or comment on my weight. Sometimes I have to dig for a compliment, but I'm patient ... and I don't let them leave until they say something nice about me. ;)

My friend, (we'll call her Ginger), however, never gets asked about her weight loss and she's lost over 55 pounds(!) in the last year.

That's what got me thinking about Fat Snobbery.

Ginger is skinny - now. Us fat gals, however, just look at her with disdain, "Like that skinny bitch knows anything about being fat." We'd just give a girl like her a sideways glance and think about how miserable she probably is starving herself all the time. "I may be fat, but at least I'm happy."

I used to think Ginger was just being an attention whore. "Nobody ever asks me about weight loss," she'd whine with a sad face. Me, me, me. And I'd be like, "Get over it, Ginger, you're skinny, we hate you."

But now that I've lost a bit of weight and I'm starting to look pretty damn sexy (if I do say so myself), I've realized Ginger might have a point.

My heavier lady friends are starting to give me that sideways glance too. Those bitches. After all the advice I've given them! And the compliments I've graciously accepted!

Us Fat ladies are snobs. I've seen it in action so many times. A group of ladies will be talking about trying to lose weight - it is our favorite subject - and the skinny girls pipes up and we all look at her like she's 3-day-old leftovers, or worse, a man.

I didn't use to like Ginger at all until she showed me a whole bunch of pictures of herself FAT. Then I liked her, unless I was looking at her in one of those super cute dresses she's always parading around in.

Don't get me wrong, skinny girl prejudice is fine, but it shouldn't be used against a former FAT girl. I'll always despise the girl who was never fat. I'm not perfect.

Being fat gives you character, it has to, people would never pay you the time of day otherwise. Fat girls are often the funniest, smartest, most talented girls in the room. We've learned to work our other assets because our bodies get ignored (if we're lucky).

Of course, once a girl is skinny, if you didn't know her when she fat, you'd think she was always skinny and hate her as much as you'd hate a girl that never knew the hard life of a fat girl.

That's why I think we should all wear buttons on our shirts with pictures of us at our fattest. That way we can know who deserves the sideways glance and who doesn't.

The question I've been waiting for

You know you're overweight when you lose 20 pounds and nobody notices.

My weight was the elephant in the room. After determining I needed to lose 50 pounds, I gained 20. I've since lost that 20, but for the longest time, nobody said Anything.

It was discouraging. I mean, I'm only trying to lose weight to impress people and get them to talk about how great I look. If no one is going to do that, why should I bother?

Now that I've lost 5 more pounds, bringing the total to 25, people are starting to notice and ask the question many of us long for more than a marriage proposal: "Have you lost weight?"

When I hear about people losing weight there is only one thing I want to know and I want to know it immediately - right after I see the pictures of the person fat - "How did you do it?"

I don't know why, but I'm always hoping they will say, "Every time I took this pill I bought at WalMart I lost a pound." They never say that.

I'll tell what I did, but you're not going to like it. ...

Eating less and exercising more.
B-O-R-I-N-G, I know, but the figure being revealed underneath all of this fat is anything but. ;)

I started using Sparkpeople.com and counting my calories.

I thought that calorie counting went out of style with Jane Fonda, but it's actually like a religion, like yoga, or Facebook.

My most used phrase - after "Somebody give me a beer" used to be, (said in whiny voice) "I don't know why I can't lose weight, I don't even eat that much."

Turns out I was eating about 4000 calories in a day when between 1800 - 2000 would be what it took to keep my weight stable.

There are about 500 calories in one Arby's Chocolate Turnover, which is the saddest thing that ever happened to me besides two divorces.

As for the exercise ... I've upped it to one hour or more a day. Yeah, it's a lot, but I'm getting used to it and it feels good now, almost as good as that extra hour sleep I used to get. I've also started speed walking to the bathroom at work. I think it's helping.

I still have 45 pounds to lose, but instead of seeing it as an impossible feat, like climbing Everest, or getting people to believe Obama was born in the U.S., I know it's just a matter of time ... like death, I know I'll get there.

50 pounds of weight loss!

I'm happy to announce that I have lost 50 pounds!
First I lost five pounds. Then I gained five pounds, but then, again, I lost five pounds ...
Gained five...
Lost five...
Gained five...
Lost five...
Gained five ...
You get the picture, right?

All together I must have lost at least 50 pounds and so far I have totally blown this diet thing. My losing 50 pounds (at one time) is as likely as finding Osama Bin Laden. (Were still trying to do that, right?)

I'm learning though. For example, I've learned that five chicken nuggets from Wendy's will gain me one pound and five sessions of daily exercise will keep my weight steady. I've also learned that smelling doughnuts is almost as good as eating them and that it's rude if said doughnut is in your co-worker's hand.

When I see people around town they always ask me how the diet is going, which I can't figure out. I mean, you're looking at me. What do you think?

Really I appreciate the interest. The other day I told a "friend" that I felt bad about letting readers down and not losing much weight in such a long time. It was pointed out to me that perhaps people are enjoying my NOT losing weight more anyway. True. I myself love it when other people fail. It builds up my self-esteem.

Weight, however, has been lost. On the other hand so has humility and pride, but it's a trade off I signed up for.

Since I've begun my weight loss humiliation, I've actually lost a total of 10 pounds - most of it from my chest.

But my body is stronger - which will be good for when I invariably weigh much more than I do now.

I get in about 30 minutes of exercise most days and my body is looking better, if not smaller. I have a dream where one day I shed my fat outer shell and underneath a firm, trim, sexy body is revealed. Then I wake up and I'm smashing my scale against the refrigerator again.

Some Good Advice

A friend sent me a version of the following in a chain email about getting older and maybe a little wider ;) It reminded me of something my Grandma would have said.

The email said I was supposed to send it to seven people, but I’ll just give it to you here instead. It eases that ever-present fear of “getting old.” It encourages me to strive for a little less seriousness and little more joy. I hope the same for you. …

"I would never trade my amazing friends, wonderful life, or loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become kinder and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 a.m. and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 and 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love..... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody’s beloved pet gets hit by a car? Broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face.

So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think... I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it)."

Photo: My Grandma. The greatest Grandma that ever lived.

Lie to Me?

Sometimes even Mom can't lie to save your feelings.

"I saw you on TV yesterday," Mom said to me the other day.

"What was I doing?" I knew what I was doing that got me on TV (covering a court case for the newspaper), what I meant was was I moving or standing still.

Is it only fat people who are obsessed with their exact position in video/photographic media? I'm no exception, in any case.

You know where this conversation is going, right?

"You were standing still ... " she said.

My mother is so observant, which makes her hesitation on my next question hard to figure.

"How did I look?"

Crickets could be heard. She stared at me wide-eyed. She took a puff off her Marlboro. The sun set and the moon rose. No words were spoken.

"Did I look really fat?"

Even the crickets didn't speak. Her face started to form a questioning look, but she must have thought better about pretending that she didn't hear or understand the question.

"I know, it's bad, I was the fattest person there," I said. Yes, the art of self depreciation is alive and well.

"Well, maybe you should try to lose some weight," she said.

And there it was.

Sometimes even Mom can't lie to save your feelings. Sometimes we just need to hear the truth.

Photo: Mom singing in the choir at church. She is a living saint, which is why she didn't lie.

Temptation Table

I attended a work luncheon today where they automatically serve you every course, including dessert. I was determined to tell the server NOT to give me any dessert because I had no intention of eating it.

The server thwarted me, however, by putting a big bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup at my spot while I was out of my seat working. I never knew ice cream could be so offensive. I swear it just stared at me.

So, while I listened intently to the speaker (ho hum), I stared back at that bowl of ice cream. I hated to see it wasted; I debated just taking a few quick bites - bites taken quickly do not contain as many calories - but I did not. I let that ice cream melt. Score one for me.

The situation spurred me to invent the game Temptation Table.
This is how the game works:

All day long I am confronted with food and dessert - some of it very enticing - my objective - to win the game - is done by choosing only reasonable amounts of the healthiest foods and leaving the rest alone. Points are scored by using a scale. The game, however, lasts an entire lifetime, which makes it pretty lame. I suggest playing it several times a day and not thinking about it never ending.

Lose the game and stay (or get) fat. Win the game and be thin and healthy. Wa-la.

Patent pending ;)

The photo (www.guardian.co.uk) is an artistic rendering of Star Wars character Jaba the Hut. Jaba should not have eaten so much ice cream. I bet he's really sorry now.

Resolved

I'm resolved to lose weight this year. You might think I was resolved to lose weight last year when I started this blog, but that was just the warm up. The prelude to a diet. This is the real diet. Now that I'm used to the idea, I think I can really make some progress.

Over the holidays I made it a point to eat as many cookies and pastries and chocolate delicacies that I could handle so I am now (almost) completely sick of them.

I am, however, mostly sick of talking about diet and exercise, though, to be honest, (obviously) I've never actually done much of either. It's all that darn Thinking about diet and exercise that has me plain exhausted. I feel like I should have accomplished something.

But, here it is, friends, my most sincere attempt ever to Really and truly lose all of the extra pounds I'm lugging around.

If I don't lose any weight you can make fun of me forever. "Remember when Rene wrote that blog about losing weight and didn't lose ANY weight - for like TWO YEARS? What a loser."
I promise I will sit back and take it and not move to defend myself at all, except for in my next blog tentatively titled, "How Rene Hates Her Phony Friends."

Photo caption: This little cockroach is determined, just like me. It is also representative of how cute I feel lately.

Biggest Losers? Not so much.

It's not often you get to feel good about NOT losing weight, but every once in a while we are granted a little Christmas miracle, like the demise of the Biggest Losers club.

I recently blogged about joining my work place's "Biggest Loser" weight loss competition. I will make a long story (filled with tales of my overeating) short and just say I didn't win. A very deserving gal named "Louise" won. She went and got a new haircut with her $50 prize and she's lookin' pretty sassy lately.

The Biggest Losers club was started just two (ha! two!) months ago by a bunch of co-workers who wanted to exercise, eat healthier and - most importantly - lose weight. Each participant would donate $5 and the person who lost the most weight won the money.

They were so smug in the beginning. They all went out and joined a gym. They exercised together. They'd gather in the hallways and talked about all the exercise they were doing. They seemed so certain their success was just over the horizon.

I'd already been trying to lose weight, oh for 20-some years, and have been failing miserably. I knew it was next to impossible. They had yet to learn.

I admit, I secretly scoffed at them. They actually thought that moderate amounts of diet and exercise were going to get them results? These people aren't teenagers. Ha! What were they thinking?

So, after two months, pools of sweat, massive sugar deprivation and a long, cold, demoralizing shower, the Biggest Loser club has come to its end. (I'm skipping around my desk right now singing, "I told you so, I told you so!")

The weight-loss wasn't as easy as they had anticipated. They blamed the holidays. So do I, every year.

They said they're going to pick up again after the new year. It will be a New Year's resolution of sorts ... and we all know how those end up. He he. I wish them all the best. ;)

Photo caption: Dancing Santa is laughing with them, not at them.

Honest A?

Is honesty always the best policy?

The other day I was chatting with my "friend" about how difficult it is to lose weight. I was babbling on about how often I exercise, how many times a day I forgo much of the food I would like to eat, blah, blah, blah.

"Just think about how fat you would be if you didn't all of those things," she said. "It could be worse."

Read: My ass could be as wide as the Great Wall of China right now.

So, while the whole weight loss bit isn't paying off in smaller clothing sizes - yet (WhyGodwhy??) I'm taking comfort in my regular level of fatness.

It could be worse, much worse.

Hallodaze

I stare at the bowl of Halloween candy 87 times a day. It’s almost empty. You and I both know who ate the candy. Let’s not pretend. Let’s not talk about it either.

I’m glad the bowl is almost empty, so I won’t have to worry about it anymore. My candy eating has become so robotic I don't even realize I'm doing it. Reach into bowl, unwrap, imbibe. Yum. Repeat.

Now, I have to learn how to kick this sweet addiction.

Then I look at the calendar, it’s almost Thanksgiving.

Sigh.

I love pumpkin pie. I have promised myself to only eat one piece – at a time. Today I had a conversation about pumpkin pie and if you overheard it you'd think I was talking about a lover.
That may not, however, be the worst of my problems. After Thanksgiving everyone really starts baking.

Sigh.

Why would anyone even want to try and resist baked goods? Yum. What's so great about being skinny anyway? I'll never know.

Once the holidays are over it will be a new year and time for another resolution.

I already know what mine is: Learn to love being PHAT.

Sigh.

Fat Farm

I feel like I live on a fat farm.

I joined the Heritage Biggest Loser weight loss group at work. It's a bunch of people trying to lose weight and win $50. I'm only in it for the $50.

The person who loses the most weight wins. Simple. Impossible. I can't even lose the most weight when I'm the only person in the contest.

There are a lot of people around the office now paying attention to what the others are doing and eating. I'm glad it's not just me anymore - both paying attention to others and having attention paid to me because of this blog.

The group also helps with some of the conversations.

Before they started, every time anyone had anything to say about diets, exercise, food, being fat, being skinny, writing a blog, trying to lose weight, gain weight, walking on the moon, cooking tacos, or speaking Chinese they would come to me. Now they have other people to bounce off of. Hell, they should bounce off of each other, all that extra fat has to be good for something.

The weigh-in was on Monday and on that day I did not eat the MnMs when I wanted to - being in the group helped me all 22 times I reached for that candy. Since Tuesday I haven't cared as much. I've eaten a mini Milky Way and the MnMs.

I wonder if they'll give me back the $5 I paid to join if I get out before Friday? There's no way I'm going to win, or lose (weight).

Love to Hate Her: Denise Austin

I hate her; I do, but I have to admit, she may be my only salvation.
Months of trotting my largess around parks and on my treadmill have amounted to virtual squat, but just over a week of Denise Austin's kickass exercise death match and I've lost 10 pounds.

Yes, I said 10 pounds.

Every time I look down at my bulging stomach I am shocked that it is actually bulging less. I have LESS of a bulge! There is hope left in this world yet.

Just to make sure my eyes aren't deceiving me I grab a hold of the offending blubber and heft it to see if my hands can make me understand what my eyes can't believe. It's shrinking :) :) :) !!

Getting here has not been pretty and more ugliness must ensue. MUCH more ugliness.

I only do the videos in my basement, because, God Forbid, one of my neighbors were to catch site of my hulking form flopping around like a sopping wet whale out of water. I wouldn't want to make them have to move out of town, or worse - attend therapy.

So while I struggle to breathe and heave my laden thighs just one more time - Come on, you can do it! - onto that step, I hate her, but I have to love her too. She's like the mother-in-law you'll never be good enough for, but you keep trying so damn hard anyway.

I admit, I don't do half of the exercises. "I'm not even trying that," I frequently think while jogging in place and fighting for air as I watch her skinny, fit butt prance around, but one day I just might get there.

So, though it pains me to do it, I leave you with an Austinism: "Strong bodies strong minds, because you are worth it."

I may have to start muting the TV.

Chocolate Pastry Bender

Chocolate + pastry = get the hell outta my way.

Diet? Diet who?

Damn you $1 Arby's chocolate croissant, damn you.

Super Sexy Salsa-style Scrubbing

Today I developed "Latino Fusion Floor Scrubbing."

1: Put on some funky salsa-style hip-hoppy cross-breed music.

2: Get scrubber, bucket and cleanser.

3: Shake your rump while squatting down to hand scrub the floor. Do not let your knees touch the ground. Work your arms in circles, swing your hips from side to side like you're Jessica Rabbit.

Oh yeah, eat your heart out J Lo.

It may not be pretty, but it works. Have fun.

Can't be Helped, Can't be Stopped

There are some people in this world that, no matter how hard you try, you just can't help. They have to want to help themselves and if they don't there isn't anything you can do about it.

I am one of those people.

I refuse to stop eating Tim's (an editor at the newspaper) awesome brownies and if anyone tries to stop me I will hurt them.

Tim makes the best most chocolaty, nutty, chewy deeelicious brownies in the history of the world. He is famous for them in at least five different areas of this office.

Today we celebrated something. Who knows what?? I can't keep up. It was another workday, another table of fat and goodness.

But there was something different.

Today they put the dessert table all the way across the room, so it wasn't right in front of me.

I don't know if they did it on purpose, or if that's just where - after one million years - they decided it should be, but that's where it went. WWWWAAAAAAYYYY far from me and out of my sight and smell range.

How does that old saying go? "Out of sight, out of mind?" That's because they're all in my mouth. (That's what she said.)

At least I have to walk across the room to get my fix now. It's hard though because I can't just nonchalantly walk by and snag a piece of banana cake, I have no other reason to be over there so everyone knows what I'm doing.

At least I'm getting some extra exercise. Sigh.

Another gift designed to destroy me

It's no wonder a girl can't lose weight around here. Newsroom gifts never have less than 10,000 calories in them. 

Notice my skinny co-worker Nate Stemen in the background enjoying his choco-chippty muffin. He won't stay skinny long. Muhahahahahaha!

Bathroom Confessional

"I have a confession to make," the voice from the other side of the bathroom stall said over the sound of me peeing.

"Tell me what you have done, my child," I said.

I didn't really say that. The voice was one of my co-workers. What I said was, "Are you seriously confessing something to me from the other side of a bathroom stall?"

Laughter. "I guess I am," the voice said. "I ate a Snickers bar today. I was was really hungry."

I wish I could remember my reply, but I don't, so here's what I should have said ...

"Ask forgiveness from the scale gods and do 100 sit-ups in penance. Go in peace my child and don't eat any more Snickers bars this week ... and never to speak to me of Snickers bars while in the bathroom again!"

Maybe I need Brain Surgery

Most overweight people are open to trying pretty much anything to lose weight. Diet pills, cardboard food, diet liquids, torturous exercise, starvation, laxatives, drinking 80 gallons of water a day, a humiliating blog - you name it - we'll do most anything to lose weight.

I think I've finally found something I won't try, well, probably not.

Brain surgery. Yep. Doctors are now probing the brains of fat phattys and controlling their impulse to eat.

Neurosurgeons drill about 10 centimeters into a brain, on both hemispheres and once they find the "food center" they implant electrodes connected to wires and install two pacemaker-type devices are implanted into your chest to control the amount of voltage that is sent to your brain.


It's called deep brain stimulation by doctors. It's called freaky weird by me.

With the surgery, electricity is introduced to specific parts of the brain that are believed to control specific behaviors, such as feelings of hunger and satisfaction.

To test that the electrodes are in the right spot the doctors are able to make the patient hot, cold, happy, sad, thirsty, nauseous and pretty much any combination of feelings they want.

"They knew exactly every pinpoint," one patient said. "It was like they knew my body. They knew how my body was reacting to everything, and they knew what to do to make it back where it should be."

Once they get a successful response in the food part of the brain doctors implant a permanent generator, and the patient has this constant electrical current to that part of the brain and you just don't want to eat anything that's bad for you ever again.

I don't know about you, but I'm a pretty big believer in the idea that we should control our own brains. The scariest part of this whole experiment is that I'm wondering how bad could it really be?

Yet, despite my failures, I believe we are capable of learning. Take me for example - I've been married twice - won't do it again. My brain learned its lesson. See? My brain is capable of learning. One day it will learn to control food intake and figure out a dozen milk chocolate macadamia nut cookies for one person is Bad, Bad, Bad.

Besides, how do we know that the brain of the woman that had the surgery isn't going to start loving wheat germ now? It's just not worth the risk.