This past Thursday marked 54 days of tracking calories and walking for 30 minutes a day. I am quite proud of that accomplishment, especially the walking (and sometimes even jogging) part. We looked up one of those calorie calculator thingies online that asks for all of your information regarding height, weight, age, activity level, etc…and it tells you how many calories you should eat in order to lose 2 lbs a week, 1 lb a week or to maintain your current weight. We did the two pounds a week option and then took off an additional 200 calories from there just in case I was overestimating my activity level.
In the average week over these past two months, if I am being honest, I would say that roughly 5 out of 7 days I would stay at or slightly below my caloric intake. The other days I might go over by 100-200. On occasion (like 2 or 3 days that I can think of), I probably went over by a couple hundred calories. I have walked for 150 minutes a week each week, some days 20 minutes, some days 30 or more. I have aimed to drink 150 oz of water a day but in all reality have probably managed to average about 100.
This past Thursday also was the first time that I stepped on a scale in that 54 days. I had a doctor’s appointment to recheck my blood pressure stuff and I didn’t want to go there and be surprised, so I weighed myself before I left. Before I stepped on, I thought to myself that if I had lost 20 pounds or more I would be happy. Ten pounds would be OK but I probably would have been slightly disappointed. Well I stepped on first thing after waking up (before I got dressed or ate breakfast) and the floor came out from under me. The scale said I had put on a pound.
In that moment, the anger, sadness and helplessness that I was feeling threatened to make me cancel my appointment with the doctor and just go back to bed for the rest of the day. Seriously, I was done. I felt like for the first time in a long time I had sustained a healthy routine and I just knew it was working. When I saw that number on the scale, telling me that I was now heavier than I ever have been - I felt absolute defeat. I made myself go to the doctor (only because I had already cancelled once and didn’t want to get “the letter” from them warning me to keep my appointments). Their scale said I had actually gained 3 lbs. since my last visit. Joy.
I tried to calmly explain my plight to the doctor (who is a very lovely woman) but it ended up with me trying to talk with the I’m-trying-not-to-cry-but-failing lip quiver and snotty tears. She praised me for the work that I had already done and told me to keep it up, just lower my caloric intake by another few hundred and see what happened. She asked if I had ever considered gastric bypass because she thought I’d be a great candidate. She told me to make sure I’m drinking lots of water and eating high fiber foods. She offered a medication that worked with the Serotonin levels in your body to act as a non-stimulant appetite suppressant. She said all of the things and did all of the things that medical professionals should do and say, but in my overcharged emotional state I found myself resentful towards her for not having better answers.
So that was Thursday. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were pretty much days of mourning and bratty resistance. I probably shouldn’t have allowed myself to revel in it for that long but I did. But today is Monday and I am resetting myself. I took the doctor up on that offer for a prescription. It’s a medicine called Belviq. I plan on starting it tomorrow and seeing what happens.
I wish that this ended in some big cheerleader-esque battle cry of inspiration but that would be phony. Honestly, I feel like I am battered and timid but I am anchored to something (or someone) stronger that promises to pull me along as long as I keep trying.
“I believe, help my unbelief.” - Mark 9:24
In the average week over these past two months, if I am being honest, I would say that roughly 5 out of 7 days I would stay at or slightly below my caloric intake. The other days I might go over by 100-200. On occasion (like 2 or 3 days that I can think of), I probably went over by a couple hundred calories. I have walked for 150 minutes a week each week, some days 20 minutes, some days 30 or more. I have aimed to drink 150 oz of water a day but in all reality have probably managed to average about 100.
This past Thursday also was the first time that I stepped on a scale in that 54 days. I had a doctor’s appointment to recheck my blood pressure stuff and I didn’t want to go there and be surprised, so I weighed myself before I left. Before I stepped on, I thought to myself that if I had lost 20 pounds or more I would be happy. Ten pounds would be OK but I probably would have been slightly disappointed. Well I stepped on first thing after waking up (before I got dressed or ate breakfast) and the floor came out from under me. The scale said I had put on a pound.
In that moment, the anger, sadness and helplessness that I was feeling threatened to make me cancel my appointment with the doctor and just go back to bed for the rest of the day. Seriously, I was done. I felt like for the first time in a long time I had sustained a healthy routine and I just knew it was working. When I saw that number on the scale, telling me that I was now heavier than I ever have been - I felt absolute defeat. I made myself go to the doctor (only because I had already cancelled once and didn’t want to get “the letter” from them warning me to keep my appointments). Their scale said I had actually gained 3 lbs. since my last visit. Joy.
I tried to calmly explain my plight to the doctor (who is a very lovely woman) but it ended up with me trying to talk with the I’m-trying-not-to-cry-but-failing lip quiver and snotty tears. She praised me for the work that I had already done and told me to keep it up, just lower my caloric intake by another few hundred and see what happened. She asked if I had ever considered gastric bypass because she thought I’d be a great candidate. She told me to make sure I’m drinking lots of water and eating high fiber foods. She offered a medication that worked with the Serotonin levels in your body to act as a non-stimulant appetite suppressant. She said all of the things and did all of the things that medical professionals should do and say, but in my overcharged emotional state I found myself resentful towards her for not having better answers.
So that was Thursday. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were pretty much days of mourning and bratty resistance. I probably shouldn’t have allowed myself to revel in it for that long but I did. But today is Monday and I am resetting myself. I took the doctor up on that offer for a prescription. It’s a medicine called Belviq. I plan on starting it tomorrow and seeing what happens.
I wish that this ended in some big cheerleader-esque battle cry of inspiration but that would be phony. Honestly, I feel like I am battered and timid but I am anchored to something (or someone) stronger that promises to pull me along as long as I keep trying.
“I believe, help my unbelief.” - Mark 9:24
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