A new reason to lose the weight...

Several days have passed since the "marshmallow incident". (That sounds like the title of a murder mystery. Move over Agatha Christie!)

I've tried to be careful the past few days and get back to sensible eating. It's felt good to have some self-control again, not giving in to every whim.

I had some news this week that hit me like a brick. It's now even more important for me to lose weight.

The doctor had ordered some routine lab work. One of them was an A1C test. The results for that showed my blood glucose levels are higher than normal and I am considered pre-diabetic.

The doctor doesn't want to put me on medication at this point. She suggested a simple plan of diet and exercise and then retest in four months. She also suggested I take cinnamon supplements, as some people have good results with it. There's a good chance of slowing down or even reversing the disease if I could get my weight down. She also stressed walking half an hour, five times a week, or some other kind of exercise.

I've known all along I should be out there daily taking the trails. I have the "want" to do it, but not the motivation to actually go through with it. Maybe now I'll have a new resolve to actually do it.

I've been reading about pre-diabetes and how it's treated. I liked this phrase from one website:

 

"Prediabetes is like the warning light in your car that clicks on when you’re about to run out of gas."

I can wrap my brain around that one. It means it's not too late to do something about it. And to not do something about it would be like the person who sees the warning light and then still runs out of gas. No excuse.

To be told I have prediabetes was a shock. I've watched my dad with his struggles with type 2 diabetes. I cringe at the thought of insulin belly shots morning, noon, and night, or even at the idea of those tiny finger pricks to test blood sugar levels. When I read the list of all the other problems diabetes causes, I can check off one after another that has plagued my poor dad.

I've quit keeping track of calories or Weight Watcher points and am trying the exchange method. I write more about it later. The doctor wants me to learn about the glycemic index and choose foods that are low. I've heard of the glycemic index but I know very little about it. I hope its nothing complicated.

Ooey gooey chewy phooey

There's a phrase I hear now and then when somebody does something they knew they shouldn't do. The phrase is "the devil made me do it."

Well, I can't blame the devil or any of his cronies for my behavior last night. We had friends staying with us from out of town, and had a wiener roast. For desert we roasted marshmallows. Whatever possessed me, I went crazy with those marshmallows. First I put three on the stick and roasted them brown and crispy on the outside, ooey gooey on the inside. The fire was just perfect for creating the perfect roasted marshmallow. But when does ooey gooey chewy warm and wonderful become "I have a belly ache" and "Where do I toss my cookies" (or rather, marshmallows)? I can tell you. The number is 29.

It started out with a harmless trio of the white puffy delicacies on the stick. A marshmallow isn't a delicacy until it's roasted, though, which takes time and your attention. You don't want it turning into a burnt sacrifice. At least I don't like them burnt. But it was a social thing, so I didn't stop at three. At least I reduced it to two marshmallows at a time, and later, one at a time.

There's something fascinating about roasting marshmallows over a fire, when the sun is going down, and you are with good friends. Sally was keeping up with me, although I don't know that she ate 29.  I said, "There are only 25 calories in two of them, so you can eat eight for a hundred calories." She said, "Well, it's worth it."

I had to let her know today that I was wrong. I'd checked the bag. They are 25 calories each. Let's see, 29 times 25... I don't even want to know.

But they were good. Wonderfully delicious, even though the last ten weren't as good as the first 19. Still, it was no excuse. There is absolutely no excuse for pulling such a stunt. I have no idea how much damage I did. Of course I'm avoiding the scale for the next couple of days.

My thought, over and over last night as I was laying in bed, "Why do I do this?" And I don't know if I'll ever know why. I'm hoping I can still salvage the week, even though I've had three disastrous days in a row. I really dread my monthly weigh-in on Thursday.

Back On Track

In the book, Pilgrim's Progress, Christian hit some road blocks during his journey. He fell into a bog called Slough of Despond. He ran into people who tempted him to try a different, less difficult path. He got stuck for awhile in a valley. He was put into a prison a couple of times. A giant tortured and nearly killed him. Just before he finally reached his goal, the poor guy was nearly drowned.

My journey hasn't had near the ups and downs, but it hasn't been a free and clear path, either. I am just now climbing back after falling into my own Slough of Despond for a few weeks. I got into a cycle of eating too far above my calorie limit, and I couldn't break it. The scale gave me sort of a grace period for a while, but then it started showing gains. The past few days I have finally seen some progress. I'm still consuming more than 1500 calories, but I feel like I've got things under control. What I'm eating now is probably a maintenance level for the weight I am. I'm not losing but at least I've stopped the craziness with the food.

One thought I had today... when I feel like I'm taking too long to reach my goal, I have to remind myself that "slow and steady wins the race." When I get to the end of this year, and look back, if I've doubled my weight loss from last year, I'll be very happy. It won't matter that I did it slowly. It won't matter that I lost less than a pound a month. And I just love that mental image of butter sticks: there are four sticks in a pound box of butter. To lose the equivalent of eighty butter sticks would be a marvelous accomplishment for me. Let me restate that: To lose the equivalent of eighty butter sticks will be a marvelous accomplishment. I'll still have weight to lose, but twenty pounds will help my motivation to keep working at it.

*Hey, Daughter! I read your blog today and congratulations on your progress and accomplishments this past month! I'm very proud of you. - Mom

It truly is inspiring to watch the progress of others. This is a hard thing we're doing. When we see people we know accomplishing their goals it encourages us to keep going. Someday I hope to play a part in encouraging someone with "if I can do it, so can you."

Bad Bad Slump

In my previous post, I wrote about the struggle to keep my calories down. Well, nothing has changed. That last week in February has trickled over to March and I'm still eating too much, too often, too sweet, too fatty. This just has to stop! (That's what I tell myself every day. But do I listen? No.) I haven't changed the chart, but I'm up three pounds.

I'm not quite sure what to do to get myself back on track.

And I have to confess that right now, I don't feel like trying anymore. I feel like its the illusive dream, not attainable, not reachable for me. Why do I try?

Oh, I suppose I'm really not giving up. I'm unhappy about gaining three pounds, but I'd be even unhappier to regain everything I've lost over the year.

The other day I was watching Dr. Oz. He was working with a very obese young woman, and he arranged for her to have a personal coach. I wonder how she's doing. I wish the best for her.