Gain a Little? Feeling Discouraged? Never Fear - I Have Just the Theory For You!

So, in case anyone doesn't already know, this is officially Natalie's blog. This means that she gets to do all the "administrative" blog stuff - like decide what goes on her sidebar. When I stopped by to check out the old Skinny Pants blog today, one question immediately popped into my mind.

Where the heck did she find that picture of me sitting at the table waiting to stuff my face with giant cookies? Seriously. Does anyone doubt that the chick in the picture MUST be me? It's so obvious. Natalie, you are amazing.

Speaking of the cookie exchange, the damage results were officially in three days ago. Please don't ask me to divulge the ridiculous incremental increase that showed up on the bathroom scale, because it would be too painful to make it public. There is, however, some good news.

I have another theory. Kind of like the one about fat cells holding their breath when you lose weight, this one concerns itself with gaining weight. You know how people fall off the wagon for a few days, eat till they're sick, and get that bloated/gained-five-plus-pounds feeling? Well, I'm here to tell you that this feeling is nothing more than another sneaky trick of those greedy little fat cells.

Think about it. When the binge is over, and the scale weighs in the disastrous results, what happens? The victim immediately gets depressed over the sudden weight gain, and gets discouraged. And what is it we usually do when discouraged? Give in and eat. This is all part of the sinister fat cells' evil plan, and no girl should ever fall for it again!

Here's the theory. Just like it takes the fat cells a while to actually admit the fat is gone, they can't really soak up new fat that quick either - they just want you to think they did so you'll give up and feed their greedy little selves. In reality (according to my non-professional theory), the surplus of fat and calories you consumed is only floating around the fat cells. The only way they can actually hang onto the new fat, is if you keep feeding them more so that the "extra" is still extra. Does that make sense?

If - instead of giving up and continuing the bad food binge - you recommence the starving-of-the-fat-cells, all that extra will be quickly used up by your body, and the fat cells lose. Oh sure, they might manage to secure a pound or two, but isn't that way better than handing over the total victory of five or ten pounds??? So if you've been bad and the scale confirms it, remember - it's just an illusion. So, instead of giving up and getting discouraged, get determined instead and fight back. Whatever it is you do to keep off weight and/or lose a little, get right back on it! Be super good, don't get on the scale for three days, and when you do you'll see that at least half of what you thought you'd gained isn't really there at all.

I still say that half the battle is mental. To some extent, you really can "think yourself thin" - or fat, depending on what you tell yourself. So if you've been bad this Christmas season, don't give up, and don't give in. Fight back and don't give any ground to those stupid little fat cells waiting to ruin all your plans. And remember, every time you allow yourself to feel discouraged, you give them the edge, so keep positive!

Happy New Year everyone! Good luck with those resolutions!

The Dieting Evils of a Seemingly Harmless Christmas Tradition

I went to a cookie exchange the other day. It was fun. Socially speaking. On the trying-to-stay-skinny-through-the-holidays front, however, it was disastrous. Possibly the single most disastrous event in the history of December dieting. Girls like me should never put themselves in the path of such temptation - we should know better.

The idea of a cookie exchange, is rather brilliant. Rather than one woman making dozens and dozens of different kinds of cookies to give away during the holidays, a bunch of women make dozens and dozens of one kind of cookie, go to a party, and exchange cookies. At this particular cookie exchange, we each brought twelve dozen - i.e. one hundred and forty-four individual - cookies.

Which means we each left with twelve dozen - i.e. one hundred and forty-four individual - cookies. To give away. Right.

I swear my intentions are honorable. Really - I always tell myself that this year will be different, and I'll actually give away all those cookies. But then I go to the party and SEE them. And SMELL them. And TASTE them.

Then I start plotting out ways to keep my family from knowing the cookies are in the house so I can eat every single one-hundred-and-forty-fourth one myself. It's like a cookie-eating sickness. And I contract it every year.

This year was bad. The level of badness is directly related to the scrumptiousness of the cookies presented at the cookie exchange. Can I just say that this year there were FOUR different varieties of chocolate peanut butter cookies? And carmelitas - made by two different people, meaning that I took home two dozen of them?

It was seriously way to much to ask of me. I tried to think of someone to give at least some of the cookies away to, but every time I started thinking about it, it was like I had a stupor of thought. The kind of stupor that immediately switched over to thoughts of carmelitas and peanut butter chocolate bars, and how good they were going to taste when I ate them. And then I'd go have a couple. Of each.

Thankfully, I was unable to keep my family in the dark about the cookies, so I was forced to share. For two nights we brought the cookie platter out for dessert, and during both days, I even gave out a few of the ones lower on the I-must-eat-you-or-die list to my cookie-loving children.

I ate the last two cookies for breakfast this morning. Thank goodness they're gone and I can get on with my life - now that all my jeans are suddenly feeling a little bit tighter. Good thing I don't believe my body could possibly have transferred ALL that directly into fat, or I'd be in trouble. I LOOK fatter, and I FEEL fatter, but I'm convinced that if I can just live (primarily) off of the cookie-calories I've stored up for the next few days, I should be fine. It's got to be mostly water weight anyway, right?

And I'm not eating a single Christmas treat of ANY kind until our families actual Christmas dinner. And (aside from issuing a warning against cookie exchanges to all women with zero self control like myself), that is what this post is primarily about. I have now declared to the world that I will abstain from goodies, and so I'll have to do it. And hopefully, if I'm super good, I'll find all that cookie-fat gone the next time I brave the bathroom scale.

Wish me luck!

Holiday Strategy for the Battle of the Bathroom Scale

So, it's November - aka "The Most Critical Time of the Year." Well, for me and any of you hoping to hold steady (or maybe even gain some ground) in that annoying battle with the bathroom scale. At this time every year I put the battle strategy into play, and get ready to come out victorious on New Year's. And just so you know, this plan is geared ENTIRELY around eating Holiday food, and avoiding goody-deprivation at all holiday food gatherings.

And it never fails me.

Just thought some of you might be interested.

I really should have posted this right after Halloween - since I always get things started at the beginning of November - but I was too busy not thinking about Halloween candy to organize my thoughts... But better late then never, right?

So, the plan. The strategy. It all revolves around advanced planning and preemptive striking. In other words, lose now, gain later, and it all comes out in the wash.

I know, I know, you're thinking, "Like it's that easy to just 'lose now.' If I could do that I already would have. Duh." But just hear me out. This is all about mind power, and is totally doable. I swear. Why? What magic formula will make it easier to lose this time? Motivation. Hanging before you every day from now to Christmas, are all those goodies. The feasts. The cookies. The party foods and appetizers constituting a meals worth of calories in a single bite. All the foods you know you'll want to eat, and should be able to eat because it's Christmas. Do you really want to be the one at the party saying "Well, that hot, steamy, overly cheesy, completely delicious looking, and divine tasting artichoke dip looks great, but I'm really just into celery right now,"???

Trust me. You can do this. You can do anything for a couple of weeks and a big piece of guiltless-pumpkin-cheesecake, right?

So here's the goal. Lose at least two (solid, meaning more than just water weight) pounds before Thanksgiving, and then again before Christmas. And here's the plan to accomplish it.

1. Pick your most favorite eating time of the day and leave it alone (meaning, eat as usual, no suffering necessary). You love breakfast? Fine. Lunch? Fine. Dinner? Evening snack? No problem. All of them? Pick one. And no complaining - it won't work if you're not willing to suffer at least a tiny bit.

2. Look at your two remaining meals, and usual snacks, and start sacrificing. Cut them in half, substitute with healthy/low-fat/low-carb/low-sugar/smaller portion/or-what-ever-it-is-that-works-for-you meals, grit your teeth, think about your favorite holiday treat and how you will guiltlessly consume a second helping, and bear it.

3. Add an extra gimmick just to kick start things. For instance, this year mine is "turn down one thing every day." Sounds so small, but I've given up an ice cream sundae (with LOADS of toppings, all you can eat), brownies (the plural because you know I wouldn't have stopped at just one), pastries, my late-night handful of milk chocolate chips, and a few other things just this week. Other years I've ditched sweet-treats altogether, or eaten one salad a day - whatever. Just pick some small thing and be strict. No cheating allowed.

4. If you have a party to attend, eat light all day to make up for it. (And don't go totally overboard when you get there. It's not Christmas YET). If you have to make goodies, go ahead and have some, but set your limit before they're done, stick to it, and get them out of the house fast. If someone brings you treats, eat them. Then skip dinner. (Well, that's what I do, but I suppose I shouldn't try to sell you on such obviously not-healthy strategies. But it does work...)

5. Look in the mirror at least three times a day (no complaining, if you've read this blog before you TOTALLY knew this would be part of the plan) and tell yourself you're going to be a skinny babe by Christmas.

6. Exercise is extra-credit.

7. When the morning of the big day comes (first Thanksgiving, then Christmas), save your calories up. For instance, have an apple for breakfast. Eat a pile of lettuce for lunch.

8. At the actual event? Enjoy yourself. Eat up. Gain back those two pounds all in one sitting if you want - you earned it. (Or, not. Besides, like you can gain two pounds of actual fat in one sitting. I personally believe one meal never hurt anybody).

I would just like to bear my testimony that everyone should get to eat at Christmas dinner without "watching what they eat." I also believe that gorging on good food for the entire holiday season is going over the top, and should be considered a diet-sin. I know that every woman has at least four weeks of solid diet-self-control in her - especially when the reward is turkey gravy, Christmas croisants, and chocolate trifle. I also know that my little battle strategy works for me, and will work for anyone who undertakes it with real intent. Losing two pounds is really not an impossible task. And you'll thank yourself on New Year's. In the name of Holiday Food, amen.

And The Siege Is On!

My digestive system is rebelling. Why, you ask? For the worst possible reason if you're a person who's attempting to lose/hold in the battle of the bathroom scale. Really, this is very irritating, and I have no one to blame but myself. (And my mother. As events play out here, you'll all agree that she TOTALLY gets at least half the blame here).

So what is this "worst possible reason"? Let me explain.

I have four children. Although I love my children, and am very thankful for my ability to bear them, seven years of child-bearing is like a prego-weight roller coaster. "I have to get skinny fast so I can get pregnant again" seems to be the running theme. Always (at least for me) there was this utopia of eternal thinness just waiting at the end of the pregnant/nursing/losing/pregnant body cycle.

"Oh yes, body" I told myself, "as soon as that last child is born, you will be mine. I will lose all your fat, tone those forgotten muscles, and finally achieve that wonderland of 'ideal weight'. It will be so EASY," I continued in my delusional mind. "There will be absolutely nothing standing between us and all those skinny clothes we're waiting to wear."

Nothing but myself, anyway.

And my mother.

If you've been keeping up with me from my other blog, you'll know that I recently lost a little weight courtesy of my good friend Anxiety. This was very exciting, because for the first time since the birth of my last child (over two years ago) I finally hit that magic number on the scale. The number that technically proclaims me to be in my skinny-enough-to-wear-everything-in-my-closet zone. I say "technically" because it always takes my body a few weeks to accept the fact that something is missing. It's like those empty fat cells just hold their breath to keep themselves inflated and reserve room for the fat they hope will come squishing its way back in.

Lovely visual, don't you think?

But I swear that's what happens. Then, if I can manage to hold the fat-cell-siege long enough, they finally give up and go away - and the affects of my weight loss finally manage to show up. And that's when the new weight zone becomes official.

In other words - I JUST LOST THOSE BLASTED FOUR POUNDS LAST WEEK, THE SIEGE IS ON, AND I JUST MADE A MAJOR TACTICAL ERROR IN THE WAR ON FAT!!!! If this were an election, I'd have some serious explaining to do.

I suppose you're getting curious about my blunders - and how I'll manage to pin the responsibility on my mother. Well, here we go.

It started with the Ward Harvest Party. Surprisingly, I managed to get out of there without totally binging (which was completely uncharacteristic of me), but I did have several desserts, got saddled with some of the candy, and my mom sent half a cake home with me. (Her first offense).

Then on Saturday night I ran into Natalie (yes, the very same one who hosts this blog) at the grocery store twenty minutes before it closed, and she tempted me right into the ice cream aisle where Ben and Jerry's was on sale.

As we contemplated the virtues of their vast assortment of gourmet ice-cream, I realized it has been over a decade since I last tasted Ben and Jerry's. Is that not some kind of sacrilege? I fully intended to buy some then and there, smuggle it into the house and gorge myself on the whole thing - till I realized Dreyer's looked almost as good, and had only half the calories. Years of mental training is hard to overcome, and I was forced to choose the lesser of the two evils.

Conference Sunday. My mother's house. Scene of my mother's second offense, and the big breakdown.

"Eat breakfast before you come," she said, "because I thought we'd have waffles and swedish pancakes (i.e. really good crepe-like things with lots of butter, sugar, and other bad stuff smothered all over them) between sessions."

The warning signals were going off in my just-lost-those-critical-four-pounds brain, and I had momentary panic wondering if I could make it. "I'll just have a few bites of each," I confidently lied to myself. "It won't be any big deal. I'm strong."

Five swedish pancakes and three waffles later (that is ALL I'm willing to publicly claim), I began to feel sick. Then I went back in the kitchen just to make sure there was nothing left. I can be really pathetic when it comes to food.

Do you see the cycle here? Friday night: blow it, but determine to do better Saturday. Saturday: blow it, then buy evil ice-cream, and vow to repent on Sunday. Sunday - the waffle/swedish pancake blunder. Too sick Sunday night to make any vows or promises of any kind, and instead decide to deny Sunday ever even happened because it was so unbelievably pathetic.

In my defense, I think I did fairly well yesterday (Monday). At least I can't remember yesterday, so I either held steady, or blocked it out due to more personal failure.

And today?

I can't talk about it.

But I will say that it ended at my mother's house, and it involved some really good pork chops, and really rich, really creamy, REALLY bad-for-the-waistline chocolate mousse. This was her third offense! Can you see how my mother's responsible here? Can you see what she's doing to me??? Surely I can't be expected to stand firm against chocolate mousse???

And so, once again as the evening expires, and I'm facing the gastric consequences of multiple food-choices-not-conducive-to-winning-the-war-against-the-breath-holding-fat-cells, I am making a vow. Tomorrow is a new day. I will not fail. The fat cells will not win. Too many supplies have already broken through the lines. It's good-for-you-food, or nothing, and I refuse to give up any ground to my bathroom scale!

And I promise a victorious post before bedtime tomorrow night.

Until then - sleep well, eat well, and STARVE OUT THOSE STUPID LITTLE FAT CELLS!!!