GROC Around the Clock.

Last year my friend Chris had to move suddenly, due to some unfortunate circumstances. Since her new place was going to be much smaller, she did a real assessment of her situation and decided to drastically downsize. So, day after day, she sifted through the house, dragging out bag upon bag of things to be trashed, recycled, or given away. She called this process “Getting Rid Of Crap” … and thus was born the verb “to GROC.” Its been a long time since I GROC’d, but the fact is that our holiday tree ornament-making party is coming up, and our house just plain wasn’t ready. Fortunately, today was a holiday for me and I had a plan. I would GROC all six rooms and be done with it. Starting about 8 a.m., I realized around noon that it was not quite going to happen. Because by then, I had only done half … of ONE ROOM. There were a number of things that slowed me down. First of all I had to make hundreds of decisions: Move? Store? Trash? Give away? Identify? Keep? And that was BEFORE I had to clean it all. Soon I found myself surrounded by piles and piles of …. stuff. Sift, sift, sift. The hardest decision I had to make was about clothes. For once, everything in my closet was something that I could actually FIT into. So it wasn’t just a matter of discarding things that were the wrong size. Because for the past four years, everything I bought, unless it got damaged or fell apart, just piled up on shelves, hangers and in drawers. But I steeled myself. I was determined to GROC. After all, I had thrown out five expired passport, baggies full of foreign currency, and gimcrack after tschotske that had piled up in my closet. Power cords to electronics I no longer owned. Keys to which locks I had no idea. Even piles and piles of records I’d put together on my two year employment search. But once I got started on the clothes, I made a decision. If I hadn’t worn it in a year, or if I had completely forgotten about it, into the donation pile it went. I got a lot of good rags out of it (which came in handy when it came to the cleaning part). And once I got past the sense of loss, I began to see that the fewer things I hung on to, the lighter I felt. It took hours and hours, but I finally emptied my drawers of excess sweaters, pants, socks, trousers and shirts. After a full day’s work, I finally got to the cleaning up part, dusting, lifting furniture, vaccuming, wiping things down and straightening up. And then, underneath a couple of old knapsacks, I found a pair of trousers that I had completely forgotten about. But these didn’t go into any discard pile. They were a pair of beat up old cargoes that I had reluctantly shoved into the back of my closet two years ago when I had gained some weight and they stopped fitting. I guess in my embarrassment, I had stuck them somewhere that would keep them out of sight. Twenty-nine inch waist. But I thought “what the heck,” and tried ‘em on. And much to my surprise, they fit like a glove. Sure, they were beat up and a little ragged around the edges. But the triumph I felt when sliding ‘em on was worth a million bucks. Not bad pay for a day’s worth of GROCing. Only 7 more rooms to go.

Mixed Vegetables

This week I was reminded of the fact that I need to eat less vegetables. No, I haven’t switched to a fad diet or decided that I’m afraid of e coli, pesticides, or genetic modification. Instead, what I know from past experience, is that I can slip into subconscious, destructive eating habits, whether I’m chowing down on cookies, or chowing down on broccoli. Yes, they have different effects in terms of calories and nutrition, but the behavior is the same. What I discovered several years ago, is that I can train myself to become so habituated to eating HUGE servings of vegetables (i.e. cups and cups and cups at a time), that I then become habituated to a feeling of bloated fullness. And while its hard to do a lot of caloric damage with steamed greens, the fact is that it sends me into a pattern of seeking out that heavy-full feeling. All the time. Which means that after I eat veggies (or even if I don’t have any) I still have the ability to keep right on eating, switching to ever less satisfying foods (i.e. carbs, fats, etc) because satisfaction is no longer a goal. Eating is, in itself, the goal! But I also know that many food behaviors are actually rooted in good intentions. And when I look at what it is that I’m trying to accomplish with all of this eat-til-I’m-stuffed activity, I realize that it’s to make myself feel better – more relaxed, more rested, more loved. I don’t overeat because I’m bad or stupid. I overeat because I crave pleasure and solace. So this week I’ve consciously been working on reducing the volume of my veggies, first by cooking up smaller portions, and second by serving myself on the tiniest plates I own. My goal is to work my way into this without making myself feel like a martyr – crazed and deprived. In fact, there is something nice about going back for 2nds and 3rds and still leaving the table feeling comfortable. And of course what’s so ironic about all of this is that for weeks and weeks I’ve been resisting the smaller-portion thing, avoiding confrontation with the issue, and pretending that everything with my eating has to stay the same or else I’ll feel horrible, tense and angry. And instead, after just a few days, I already see that it doesn’t take much food at all to fill me up physically and to satisfy my physical needs. In short, rather than feeling deprived, I actually feel BETTER. Someday there might be a cure, but until then, I’m just going to be buying really nice, really small plates.

Run Up to the Holidays

As I was reading Josie’s blog tonight it reminded me that its so important not to brush aside or downplay the simplest of joys that arise from our accomplishments. I may not be a road racer, but I got totally inspired as I read her take on the joys of race day. Revelling in the competition, setting goals, admiring the amazing spirit of the moment – all things which lead to satisfaction and motivation. I don’t know about you, but I could use a little motivation right now. I’m thinking about all of the BIG PLANS I had for the holidays, and how instead I’ll probably end up being home doing laundry on Thanksgiving. There are numerous holiday gatherings in the offing, and food challenges will be on a constant upward trajectory. At the same time, as it gets colder, darker and wetter, I’m losing my love of biking home from work. That idiot in the white van blowing his horn at me to get out of the way wasn’t really what I needed tonight. Ever notice how drivers seem even more impatient and crankier this time of year? Fortunately State of California employees get Friday off, so I have a whole day to myself to get cracking – cleaning up the house for our holiday party in December, going through my closets, shelves and cabinets to de-clutter my home, running a few errands that I’ve been putting off. As mundane as all of that sounds, this time of year I’m so overprogrammed that I end up hardly even having time to brush my teeth some days. So it might not sound like that much “fun”to you, but for me, a day spent on tasks not related to earning money is a rarity and therefore precious. But back to Josie’s list. What I find so inspiring is that her joy in running isn’t based on being the first across the finish line. Instead, she sets goals like running the race in a certain time, or running the race in the middle of the pack instead of the tail end. Earlier she set a goal of just making it, whether walking OR running. Since weight management HAS no finish line, it bears examination to determine what those little milestones and joys can be as we trot along mile after mile, day after day. I’m lucky in that I have an extended network of friends with whom I keep in touch daily (some at their goal weight, some not) and we have the shared pleasure of recounting our experiences, agonizing over the calorie count in a no-fat latte, commiserating over pushy relatives, or just laughing at the absurdity of trying to lose weight in a healthy way and keep it off. Its so ironic that this time of year is billed by retailers as being so happy and cheerful and filled with friends and loved ones. In fact, it can be such a stressful time of year, that all of these obligations just start feeling like a drag. We can be under so much pressure (to shop, to finish that end-of-year project at work, to have fun, to make home-made gifts, or whatever) that some of the “special holiday foods” just get wolfed down mindlessly as a means of coping. So this year, the list I’m making and checking twice, is about all of the things I’m going to do for myself: stay in touch with my support network, find time for myself every dat, tackle projects that take my mind off work, and remain as physically active as ever. Oh. And avoid malls. At all costs, avoid malls. I haven’t been in one during the Holidays in many years, and steering clear of them can make all the difference.

Bushel of Fun

This weekend I went out and bought three dozen apples with the express purpose of trying to eat as many as possible. Typically when I look at the fruit basket at home, I think “well, I’ve already had one piece today, no reason to go overboard.” Somehow, that same voice remains frustratingly silent when it comes to peeking into Devin’s snack cabinet. I figured with apples, apples everywhere, I’d just keep grabbing ‘em and eating ‘em. Wrong. Its not that I don’t like apples and don’t find them satisfying. In fact, the problem is that I find them SO satisfying that I realize if I eat one, I won’t be hungry anymore. So what’s the problem? Well for me (as I’ve written about many times) “hunger” and the “desire to eat” aren’t exactly the same thing. So if I have this really strong desire to eat, it seems the last thing I want (on a subconscious level) is to feel full. Because feeling full prevents me from feeding the desire to eat. Sick, isn’t it! By contrast, I could eat an entire bag of chips or crackers or cookies and never feel full at all. With junk food, I can just blissfully engage in the act of eating until I’m so coked up on fat and sugar that my eyes glaze over. I have to admit that even four years into maintenance, I still have this issue. It’s counterbalanced by knowledge and experience, which now teach me that working to override the “desire to eat” can lead to amazing results. But even still, when I’m overtaken by the “desire to eat,” watch out world! When I’m experiencing that craving for eating, I seem to invent endless excuses NOT to brush my teeth, NOT to move away from the kitchen, and NOT to listen to my meditation audio file. Because each of those acts strongly signals End of Eating to me, the raging little “I wanna eat” monster tries to shout them down. But here’s the most interesting thing. When I just allow this internal conflict to rage on, using one part of my brain to fight for restraint while the other cries out for more, more, more, things never improve. Trying to impose willpower on top of wanton desire has never been a great long term strategy for me. Which ever side “wins” the other side is gearing up for renewed assaults. Instead, when I get to the phase where I’m ravenous, the one thing that seems to have any chance at all of succeeding is simply to recognize, acknowledge, and even HONOR that eating impulse. By embracing its origin (a desire to bring pleasure, comfort, relief, solace, etc) I have at least some chance of circumventing the binge instinct. What it tells me is that some part of me is crying out to be nurtured, or taken care of, or “fed.” And certainly, we all need those things, in great quantities. Its not wrong to want to feel good, its natural, and even intelligent. So even though a carb fest will undoubtedly leave me feeling ill AFTERWARD, the urge to engage in it is primarily focused on the immediate. Its all about how to take care of the here and now. And god only knows how much food it would take to cure an emotion. Damn. I wish I could tell you that I’ve overcome this whole thing and that I don’t need to be SO conscious, SO conscientious and SO engaged. It would be nice for me to tell you I’m on autopilot and I just cruise along, creating a happy balance between satisfaction with food and satisfaction with my weight. But that would just be a big fat lie, now wouldn’t it! I’m glad I bought those apples though. I’ve already had three today. And I might just “splurge” and have another before I go to bed. Moving from the snack cabinet to the fruit bowl might not ever become my first instinct. But you never know.

Q & A

The only one small drawback to this blog from my perspective, is that I endeavor to tell the truth and be as honest as I can, even when it doesn’t reflect particularly well on me. And so, I feel compelled to answer the questions asked by a reader today, while feeling a bit remorseful. Most of all, I worry that I stand to lose a little credibility if I explain my own personal process. But here goes: As a perfectionist, I’ve struggled with allowing myself to be more flexible and stress-free, and its been a long journey. When I started out five years ago, not only was I very, very determined to lose weight, I was also a tad fanatical about my approach. In fact, I was so rigorous to my adherence to a daily caloric count that I spent a fair amount of time feeling anxious about my choices. I didn’t always eat healthy food, but for months and months I rarely – if ever – exceed my daily calorie quotient. And there were days that I would go for a long run to “make up for” extracurricular eating. Q. Would you please talk about how long it took you and how hard it was to loose YOUR LAST few pounds as you reached goal (long ago). A. I lost, on average, about 1.5 pounds per week until I hit my 40 pounds mark (one that my doctor and I had agreed upon). The reason I had such amazing progress, as I noted above, is that I was just super strict about eating and exercise. During that time, I had many fights with Devin over not wanting to eat out, and many of my relationships were strained because I almost always refused to eat at restaurants or parties. I don’t have my weight records from that era, but I don’t recall it being slower towards the end. Just more difficult. Q. I think I remember that you met one goal, waited a while and then went down 10 more pounds. A. What happened was that I went to my doctor to get permission to set a goal weight above the healthy BMI range. My reason for doing so was that the staff of the weight loss meeting I attended informed me that I “had to” lose 50 pounds, and I just couldn’t imagine that. What’s funny is that, along the way, I learned that I COULD continue to lose, so I chose to keep going. So after I hit my goal weight, I then dropped another seven pounds to fit into the BMI range, and after that, I lost three more pounds just because I wanted it all to add up to 50! Q. What were these last pounds like in comparison to the pounds that you lost at the very beginning (at your heaviest?). A. When I first began food journaling, I realized that I was eating well in excess of 3,000 calories a day. When I cut that in half to about 1,500, the changes were dramatic. I went through horrible sugar withdrawal the first few weeks, and was therefore constantly irritable. I had also never drunk so much water in my life. And because I was new at the game, I often wasted my calories eating relatively junky food, and left the table feeling unsatisfied and unfueled. Nevertheless, my weight dropped very quickly due to the changes. By comparison, the final ten pounds I lost while adding back in more normal foods, eating out a little more and being a little less hard core. I tended to lose a little more slowly, but it sometimes felt like my body had just switched to “weight loss mode” so I actually didn’t feel like I was struggling so much. Q. If you don't mind saying - where was the last place ON YOUR BODY that the fat left (abs? torso?) and what was loosing it like? A. Of this I am absolutely certain. For me, the real “canary in the coal mine” is not the number I get on the scale, its my physical appearance. At goal or a few pounds under, I discovered I have a slight, but noticeable washboard stomach. If I climb a few pounds, once I’m about 4 pounds over goal, the abs are gone. Its that precise. Losing the last five pounds and disovering my abs, at the age of forty, was sheer, unadulterated joy. Yes. I’m THAT vain. Q. I think I remember you saying that when you got to goal your tone continued to improve/change for another full year. A. Because I lost weight quickly and steadily, my skin needed a while to catch up. As a result, my first year of maintaining my weight I called myself “Sharpei Guy.” I had droopy skin all over the place. Those fifty pounds, made a huge impact. When I look back at photos from 2002, to me I appear almost scary!! But continued exercise and water guzzling, as well as a lot of patience, led me to “fill out” a bit. My scale number is still in range, but my body seems to have adjusted nicely. All of this has left me with the feeling that its “never too late,” If a middle aged, overweight guy like me could, with just healthier eating and more exercise, get really fit and toned, so could ANYONE, I n my opinion. Anyway, I hope that helps a little. For me the agonies of weight plateaus and re-gains were a while down the pike. But my first 18 months on the plan, I had almost nothing but success on the scale (although it wreaked havoc on my marriage. And as much as I’d like to write more, I’ve pledged to go to bed on time for once, so I’m outta here.

The Clothes Make the Man

The first twelve years of my professional life I spent in Washington, DC working as a government economist. One of the first things I noticed when I started working for the government was the run-down environment and the grim attire of most employees. I did my best over the years to spruce up my various workspaces, and I also made a concerted (although misguided) effort to dress more interestingly than my colleagues. I wore bright shirts, strange ties, colorful pants and unusual shoes. I did a lot of different things with my hair, including growing it long and putting blonde streaks in it. Eventually, I even had my ear pierced. And when I visited my parents that summer, the first thing my Father said to me was “You’re just determined NOT to succeed, aren’t you.” (It wasn’t a question). Interestingly, right around that time a good friend of mine gave me a copy of an old book called “Dress for Success.” He was in marketing in the private sector and this was his way of gently hinting that I might do better, both professionally and sartorially. Now I don’t remember very much about this book, but what I do recall is that it began with a story about statistics gathered from focus groups about their impression of different articles of clothing that men wore. Apparently people associated dark raincoats with lower-wage earners and they associated bow ties as a mark of the “outsider.” And most importantly, I remember that the book’s primary advice was to choose clothing and a palette of colors that allowed the individual self to shine through, and to avoid clothing and patterns that announced your arrival before you even said a word. After that, I was a changed man. I discarded all of my old work clothes and started anew with all white button-down shirts, dark trousers, muted ties, and black (or dark brown) shoes. My personal rule was that if someone remarked upon a tie or a belt or a pair of shoes, I would discard it in favor of something “quieter.” Perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, I moved on to the private sector and my first job was at a very conservative organization funded in large part with defense money. I did well there and moved on to a high tech firm, doing a lot of national and international travel. When that company went “all casual” I’m pretty sure I was the last one to give in – I still wore a tie more days than not. But as I look back on it, for all of those years, whether I was wearing something bright and crazy, or something muted and traditional, I never really felt comfortable. I never felt like my shirts were tucked in properly, my hair stayed neat enough, my shoes fit, or my pants looked quite right. I tinkered around for ages and ages with all of it, and the best I ever felt was that I was “not too sloppy” looking. The reason I’m writing about this today is that yesterday someone asked a great question in her comment on my blog. I’d been agonizing over some recent weight gain, and what she wanted to know was “do your clothes fit differently? With that simple question, I was able to discover a profound sense of hope. Because, in fact, my clothes all look amazing. They look just as great today as they did a month ago. And –for the most part—I could say the same thing about the entire past four years. I always feel “neat” now, I feel as though my hair is fine, my shoes look right and everything fits “just so.” Because even though all beauty comes from within, there is undeniably something easier about choosing and fitting into clothes that were designed for the kind of body shape I now have. And as I move forward towards my next month’s weigh in, I have the most powerful anchor I can imagine to keep me focused on what to do next.