Say it loud

According to the dictionary, the word “pride” can denote either “excessive” self-regard *OR* “proper” self-esteem! What a wonderful reflection of the confusion we face over figuring out the “best” way to feel about ourselves. I think when my parents raised me to be wary of pride, they were hoping to instill the values of humility and graciousness. Only inadvertently did they also subtly lead me to believe that it was NEVER proper to feel pleased with myself. As someone concerned about my health, my weight and, yes, my looks, its not been easy for me to adopt a comfortable sense of pride about my progress. For example, I like wearing well-tailored clothes and I like how I look in the mirror. But I do worry that I may cross the line into vanity. Still, I find that in order to be mentally healthy and stable, I must feel positive thoughts about who I am as a person, the things I say and do, and the interactions I have with others. Its not enough to just hope that I’m being “good.” Because when I slip into the habit of self-criticism, my internal voice can be particularly harsh and demanding. When I got home from leading two meetings this morning, Devin asked me how it went --in that way that we ask things as a social convention (i.e. Hi, how are you?). But as I trotted out my “fine, thanks” response, I realized that in reality, this morning was much more than “fine.” I woke up tired, ran late in picking up my coworker, arrived at the site unprepared, and without benefit of caffeine or even a glass of water, I stepped up to the occasion and put on my “happy face.” In just minutes, as people streamed through the door, I was greeting them and pulling from god-only-knows-where the energy and enthusiasm to be present in the moment with each one. For the next four hours, I facilitated two meetings with a staff of five and a total of about 120 people. It was fun and interesting not only for me personally, but the participants laughed and clapped and said tons of great things, as well. I even had a few people stop by to speak to me personally about the encouragement I’ve given them as they face the changes they are trying to make. Even writing that short paragraph I feel a little embarrassed – afraid of blowing my own horn, bragging, or just seeming arrogant. But the fact is, I’m pretty good at what I do, and if I can’t take pride in that skill, how could that possibly be a benefit? Considering the challenges involved in my life lately (e.g. not enough sleep, too little time to do things, stress from the holiday season) I have a feeling that any opportunity for me to take pride in myself and in my accomplishments can only be a good thing. The reason all of this is important to me is that the warm glow and positive sensation that I get from “a job well done” can be just as potent as the immediate gratification and pleasure I derive from scarfing down a brownie. And I think those times when I don’t allow myself to feel the former are precisely the times I end up seeking out the latter. So with all deference to my parents and societal norms regarding humility and manners, I’ve got to be able to fully explore and experience my own sense of pride and happiness at the talents I have and the accomplishments I’m able to achieve. Sure, arrogance and haughtiness are unbecoming in a person, but a sound, healthy self-respect and an acknowledgement of one’s own talents is critically important to long term mental and physical health. So, how was my morning? Outrageous! Amazing! Fantastic!

Quality Control

Throughout my life, many emotions triggered an impulse to overeat. Whenever the world was difficult, or scary, or boring (or even exciting and happy) I felt I had no power over the events taking place, but I did have control over the selecting and eating of food. When I was single I often would bury my sorrows in ice cream after a bad date. Maybe I couldn't find Mr. Right, but I could always find the supermarket. When my company was tanking in the dot-com boom there was nothing I could do to boost the economy, but I always had enough money to buy more chocolate muffins or maple scones. When my Father became ill and died, there was no way I could interact coherently with my family members, but I could scarf down cookies by the dozen. In other words, when the world was chaos, food was the one thing I could “control.” I thought of all this today as I stood at the bicycle repair shop. The first place I went this morning told me there was a TEN DAY waiting list for repairs! At the next shop, they would fix it right away, but the staff was so vile and rude that I was completely taken aback. Still, I felt I had no choice. I needed the bike, which gives me so much freedom and flexibility and, well, a sense of control. And all I had to do was put up with their rudeness and fork over some cash to get it back. Fortunately they did good work -- trued up the wheels, refastened a few bolts and realigned the derailleur-- and I was out of there in less than half an hour. Afterwards while I was driving home so I could drop off my car, I thought about experiences in the past when I had stuffed down emotions of one sort of another, and then used food to keep the lid sealed. If anything is different about my life now, its that my strongest impulse was not to stop at a donut shop or the supermarket. Instead I acknowledged my feelings, thought about my ability to act differently in such situations in the future, and then got on with my day. In fact, after parking my car. I pulled my bike out of the back and rode straight (uphill!) to the gym. Because I know that working out actually has a more restorative feel to me than food. When I'm wound up and need physical release, exercise is almost always something that will bring me back to the ground. Food just tends to set me off. All of this is not to say that I've solved all of my emotional coping issues and am now fully self-actualized and food-frenzy-free. But its nice to know that, at least on some occasions, my instincts are now healthier and give me greater satisfaction. There’s nothing like the feeling of being in control.

Choose Life

As I was riding my bike home from my night course tonight, thinking about what would be a “bloggable” subject, I decided I might write a little something about choices. Because there are so many times in life where I’ve felt I was in an eating situation where I didn’t have any choices (other than eat/not eat). And for the most part, those “all or nothing choices” stem from a lack of empowerment I feel, or else a sense of obligation. But many of the “choices” we face are all in our heads. I chose to go to work this morning because I choose to get paid. I choose to feel stressed out because I believe that work deadlines have some kind of actual meaning. I choose the things I want to believe in, think about, or do. And yet no one is truly affected. The earth turns on its axis. The wind rustles in the trees. The fog rolls in off the ocean. No matter that the contract papers I thought I had put to bed ended up blowing up in a mass of paperwork today at the office. My reaction to all of that was about choices. It was at that moment that, riding the wrong way on a one way street in the dark (I had a helmet, reflective vest, and several flashing lights) I was struck by a car. That was very real. It was tangible and scary and bent the hell out of my derailleur. So as I walked home with a bent bike and a bruised ego (but healthy body), I realized that some choices are real (i.e. driving the wrong way on a one way street) and easy to change. Choices about how we think about ourselves (i.e. I have to eat this or my host will think I’m rude) tend to have less tangible results and are therefore much harder. This holiday season, because I tend to be challenged by the parties and social situations, one of my goals is to focus on feeling empowered. To believe in my ability to make choices. There will be disappointed friends, insulted hosts, and disgruntled coworkers as I choose to eat healthy and maintain my weight instead of gaining. I’ve recently heard that the host of a gourmet dinner party I attended two weeks ago was offended that I hardly ate anything he prepared. I believe in his right to choose to feel that way. And I believe in my right not to put things into my body when I don’t feel like it. Maybe it’ll take me a while to fully absorb the lesson. But tonight I had a good reminder that some choices are very real (i.e. bad driving ) and some choices are just in our heads. I think I need to draw the difference and act accordingly. Wish me luck.

Deviant Behavior

For the last couple of months at work I’ve been overseeing the development and awarding of a couple of large contracts for a PR program that I’m running. Since I work for the state government, the rules and procedures are hideous and annoying. Sometimes I don’t see why anyone bothers to bid! But anyway, when I was sifting through the paperwork for the winner of a bid earlier this week, I discovered some typographical areas in a couple of places. Although it didn’t bother me, personally, I had visions of being taken to court. So I (reluctantly) called in the heavy from the contracts department to discuss the issue with him. Much to my relief, after a thorough examination of the documents, we were able to classify the typos as an “immaterial deviation.” Which is to say, that six weeks of hard work getting this put together was NOT all in vain. And if you’re thinking “well, a professional firm wouldn’t have made ANY mistakes on a bid” let me just say that the proposal guidelines that I put together were 47 pages long. Single spaced. So me this was snatching victory from the potential jaws of defeat. By the same token, my morning didn’t start off too well today. Devin and I had a tense, recurring and seemingly unresolvable relationship “discussion” last night and we both went to bed feeling exasperated. This morning, even after running with the dog and a strong cup of coffee, I pretty much stomped around the house while getting ready for work and then heading out to the office. And when I got there some crackers in my drawer called my name and I had a nice little pity party. By 10 a.m. I was feeling morose and angry and in that “throw in the towel” frame of mind. Instead, I e-mailed some friends, and then suddenly from all sides I was getting a lot of support and commiseration. God bless the internet. So right then and there I decided that this morning’s food fest was just an “immaterial deviation” from the rest of my day, and I got right back on plan. I wiped the slate clean, gave myself permission to be imperfect, and started all over. And, just like my contract at work, things continued to move forward, just the way I’d hoped. Who’d have thought I’d ever gain wisdom and insight from the Department of General Services contracting guidelines! But I’ll take inspiration wherever I can get it.

Am I blue

Yesterday was what my old college German professor used to call a “blue Monday.” (Actually, I’m not sure if that’s an real German expression or not, she was a little kooky.). It might have been the change in the weather, which turned dark, grey, windy and very, very wet. It might have been the fact that at work I had three meetings scheduled simultaneously and a couple of unexpected deadlines. Or it might have been my latent annoyance at Devin, who has refused to settle on a plan for our Thanksgiving break. Whatever the cause, my mood was swinging like the branches of a tree in a storm. At times I felt good and competent, handling things well, and at times I was just depressed, angry and frustrated. Funny, I always used to think that if I were thin and healthy, all of these feelings would just vanish! Fortunately, I didn’t resort to my age old mood stabilizer – junk food. I only had healthy food at my desk (an apple, some fat free popcorn, and a 100-calorie snack). And because I was busy, I didn’t have time to dig around for anything else. Its amazing that when I can get past that initial impulse, its relatively obvious that chowing down on a bag of chips isn’t going to solve anything. (It just never seems to stop being my FIRST impulse …) But the thing that really worked for me was, in the midst of a hectic day, dropping everything and dashing to the gym for a 45 minute workout (on my bike, in the pouring rain). It’s truly amazing the extent to which a relatively short workout can change things around. I arrived at the gym tense, melancholy and exhausted. I left feeling rejuvenated, reinvigorated and refreshed. The rest of my day was a little bit more of the same craziness. After finishing up *almost* all of my work, I dashed out of the office to go home (on my bike in the pouring rain) so I could change clothes and get to my part time job. Once there, it was a whirlwind of activity until the last customer was out the door and I could finally sit down and take a deep breath. Now I would LOVE to say that at this point I came home, had a sensible meal and went to bed. And that would *almost* be true. And it certainly was my plan. What I, in fact, did was to have a sensible and healthy meal …. and then I popped over to Devin’s snack cabinet for a long, unplanned and completely unhealthy visit. It wasn’t a full-on binge, thank goodness. Just a lot more sweet crackers than I needed, washed down with a few chips and a piece of chocolate. And then, at long last, I went to bed.

Don’t call us …

While I was at the friend’s birthday dinner last night, I had to admit to myself that no-one is ever going to hire me to become Mr. Weight-Loss Spokesmodel. For one thing, I’m not a famous celebrity. For another thing, my healthy eating lifestyle has not had an iota of impact among my social circle (that is, outside of the weight management world and the blogosphere). After all, I keep ending up at parties where people (who know my weight loss story) stand around and talk about their latest diets and all the scientific evidence that proves they’ve found the ‘cure.’ Same thing at the office. Even at church. The fact that I lost 50 pounds and have kept it off for four years? Its like the sound of one hand clapping! It caused me to examine myself, as I was running my 10-miler this morning, to see what it is that might seem so “wrong” to people about the way I lead my life. I mean, do I behave in a way that is so scary, weird, or just plain different that people that can’t relate? Hm. Probably. If I had to boil down my approach, I would say this: I do believe that fully 50% of weight management is about discipline, sacrifice and hard work. Its just my personal view that those are elements which are necessary in order for change to take place. And its just possible that in social situations, that belief of mine might peek through in my behaviors. When I turn down offers of food, or talk about my running routine or select very sparingly from menus, I guess an observer might think “heck, no way could I, or would I want to, live like that!” So what’s the other 50% of the game? Well, to me its about having fun. If doing all of that discipline and work didn’t allow me to enjoy myself, I sure would feel like a drudge. If sacrifice meant never having dessert again, well that would just plain suck. How can I laugh, when its all so hard? Well, I find my little ways. For one thing, I do have close friends who share and support my views. I always smile at receiving a picture-mail from Richard taken with his phone while navigating a buffet. I was chuckling last night went I texted him (from the bathroom) about the crazy restaurant experience I was having. I read entertaining blogs like Josie’s and Debi’s and I trade messages with a bunch of friends that often include funny stories and anecdotes. I also have to admit its fun when I go to an expensive men’s store and get to complain to the clerk that nothing in the pants section is SMALL enough for me. Its delightful that when I go to the gym I don’t have to dress and undress like a bat out of hell, but can glance over at the mirror and see a skinny guy looking back at me. It makes me laugh when I look at my food journal and notice I ‘forgot’ to write down that last piece of chocolate, or I catch myself pretending I didn’t just see the calorie count on that food label. I definitely see the humor when I rush past the cookie aisle at Safeway, desperate to get to the heirloom tomato display. But no, no-one is going to offer me a million bucks to promote my system. Work hard? Give up some things in order to get others? Exercise?? Forget it. Anyway, I’m probably too scrawny to compete with George Foreman. Besides, that grill of his that I bought only lasted six months. And I’ve lasted a lot longer than that.

Going Dottie

In 2002 when I was having some difficulty feeling motivated about losing weight, and bewildered about all of the choices and confusing information out there, a woman came up to me after a weight loss meeting and said “hey, you need to visit Dottie’s Weight Loss Zone, that’ll answer all the questions that the leader couldn’t help you with.” And boy, truer words were never spoken. What I found at Dottie’s was not only a plethora of useful information, but a nationwide group of supporters and motivators that really got into the idea of creating a helping network that consisted of equal parts information and encouragement. Without that group of Zonies, I wonder if I would have lost all 50 pounds. At any rate, I’m a rare visitor to the site these days, but last night I popped back over there for a little last minute advice. You see, Devin set up a birthday party for his best friend at PF Chang’s over in the East Bay and I needed to have a plan!! It’s a popular chain restaurant that I’ve always avoided, because living in San Francisco we pretty much have the best Chinese food you could wish for, all over the city. What Dottie’s fanatics have done is post the nutrition information for the ENTIRE menu from that restaurant (along with the Points™ values). It was a real shocker. What blew my mind was that some of the healthiest sounding dishes were the worst (e.g. “orange peel chicken” turns out to be over 1,000 calories per serving!). So I picked a couple of safe choices that I knew would fit with my plan and which I’d like. Ironically, the birthday boy and two of his friends are doing some kind of weight-loss challenge, and they’re following some kind of low-carb diet that involves taking “fat-blocking pills” of some sort (sounds crazy and dangerous to me, but whatever). So on a whim, I printed out the Dottie’s page for PF Changs in a nice full-color table, showing all the dishes and their information. Just before the waiter arrived, I got everyone’s attention, and said to the birthday boy “Now I know you are doing a special diet, so just for your benefit, I’ve printed off all of the nutrition data for this menu, so you can choose the best things.” I did it as a joke, but the “dieters” were actually delighted! They pored over the sheet and exclaimed “look, there are hardly any carbs at all in these foods!” So when the waiter came, they excitedly ordered plate after plate after plate of the most caloric, fat-laden food on the menu. (Fortunately for me, they did order brown rice). Although the group “decided” (i.e. no one asked ME!) that we’d do everything family-style, I pulled the waiter aside and ordered some steamed veggies. And when the server came and was throwing the entrees willy nilly all over the banquet table, I got his attention and said “Excuse me, when the steamed vegetables arrive, they are to be placed right next to ME!!” And then I got to watch the “dieters” wolf down mounds and mounds of food that was more than the daily calorie allotment of a football player, while I carefully chose some sauces and had some really delightful veggies (the snap peas were to die for). The piece de resistance was at the end of the meal. B-day boy had requested a special treat, so Devin and I had stopped ahead of time at the Cheesecake factory to pick up some kind of “no-carb” cheese cake. Our waiter was nice enough to bring the cake on a plate, and then bring a huge bowl of fudge sundae topping (for the non-dieters) and then a very small bowl of strawberries. (I passed on the whole thing). And that’s when the b-day boy said, triumphantly “Does everyone realize that there are more ‘carbs’ in that bowl of strawberries than in this ENTIRE cake?” And everyone’s eyes glazed over as they wolfed down their cake, leaving the strawberries aside like poison. (I had a few, but they were apparently defrosted frozen ones, so not all that appealing.) I came home, had a banana and a low calorie fudgiscle and called it a night. So, from the bottom of my heart ... "Thank you Dottie!!! And thank your Zonies!"