Menopot

The only thing I have done these past five days to keep the I'm not Oprah promise to myself is EXERCISE.  I purchased a Weight Watcher's magazine.  Read an insightful bit of news.  It appears that women after menopause can lose up to ten pounds of muscle each year. Do the math, if your weight remains the same, the muscle tone you once had is now what the article calls your "menopot." How disgusting is that?  Menopot - spare tire menopausal  women get around the middle that makes them desperate for an elastic waist band.  My brain finally put it together.  I couldn't figure out why lifting weights was soooooo important. Now I know.  It is the muscle that burns fat/calories.  If your muscles start disappearing after menopause, then there is nothing left on your body to burn fat.  You could literally starve yourself and still remain a gelatinous blob. "The old metabolism has ground to a halt" is really the truth.  I suppose I could go on Survivor and not lose a pound cause even eating coconuts all day would be too many calories for a gelatinous blob. So, while my weight has evened out I will continue to exercise.  I do not ache, limp or hobble so some muscle tone is reappearing.  Just not through the middle.  I'm shrinking, slowly, very slowly from the top down and the bottom up.  My shoes are sliding off and so are my glasses.  
I'm currently reading three books.  My neighbor gave me Eat, Pray, Love.  On chapter 17.  I never want to give up on a book because I always think somewhere I'll find the part that makes it a book on the best-seller list.  I haven't gotten there yet with this novel.  I obviously have nothing in common with the author.  I really need to get to the Eat part, but it will be sad if she eats her way across three countries and encourages everyone to do that. 

Took my granddaughter to the zoo today and purchased a year membership.  We had a lovely time. 

Oh, the other book I am reading is Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.  And I haven't gotten past the foreward written by Lewis.  He is defending how and why he wrote what he did and the different approaches to the subject matter he did or did not support.  And the other book I had to stop reading for a while till I recovered from the story line.  Same Kind of Different As Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore.  It just got toooo sad. 

I'm headed to the pool to work on the menopot.  That is officially my new disgusting title for my flab.  

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah

Trigger Finger

I met friends at the pool at 6 am this morning.  Once again, exercise is not the problem.  It's the food and always has been.  These same friends were with me last night while I ate two bowls of home-made big red ice cream, (my favorite.) I ate the two bowls.  They did not.  I need to ask them why and how they resisted.  Swimming with them was fun.  One likes to read.  One likes to talk.  So I am covered for whatever exercise mood I am in. 

Speaking of friends, I want them to sign up as a follower of this blog.  One of them sends me text messages when I don't blog.  So, if you're reading this sign up.  I think it would make me accountable to keeping up with the emotional issues that go along with weight loss. 

The weekend of performances went well at the theatre.  Audiences were good.  I had an awful experience. I will try to explain what my part of the production is.  I sit in the booth above the stage.  I really thoroughly enjoy this spot.  I am part of the show but the audience does not see me, (except in this particular production I run down the steps three times to be Little Red Riding Hood's Granny. The I run back up the stairs while throwing off the wig and shawl to run the computer.)  It sounds amateur, I know.  The director did me a favor letting me take part, because it IS fun, just a bit nerve-racking.  And the other granny was doing a show in the metroplex and could not be in our show till this coming weekend. 

Back to the awful experience.  It involves my nemesis....the computer.  If you have read this blog before, you are aware of the fact that computers are not my favorite thing to deal with. Just revisiting what happened is making me feel sick again.  That is why I am writing this event in my blog.  I lost my appetite completely.  Skipped lunch. Those two things RARELY happen to me. If weight loss is really about emotion as much as anything else I need to examine this further.  My emotions made me lose my appetite and my emotions make me eat way toooooo much. Hmmm, there is something needing to be examined.

Getting on....the lights, sound effects and music are all built into hundreds of cues.  They are put in the order of how the show happens, of course.  And if you mess up in hitting the space bar to fire the cues off then the entire show comes to a screeching halt, or pages and pages of dialogue are missed, or a song stops midway through, or a baby cries when birds are to sing, or the giant speaks when violins are to gently waft in the background, or the stage simply goes black while 130 audience members just sit and wonder what happened.

Now you have the picture of the mistakes that have occured while I am sitting at the computer.  It sounds pitiful.  Perfectly mirroring the look on the face of the owner of the theatre as he scrambles to repair the damage.  Since I'm a volunteer he can't fire me.  He could reassign me to simply making popcorn for concessions. He calls it trigger finger. You're so anxious to hit the cue at just the right moment. When he gave me the job it sounded so easy.   SO.....

I have three days to recover and try again this weekend. 

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah 

    

Scarf

To many more educated than I, the word scarf carries several definitions.  When I blog I keep my dictionary app handy.  I just looked up scarf.  I do believe I missused or misspelled this word. Perhaps I was looking for a different word with a different spelling, but pronounced similar to scarf.  I was picturing a dog, scarfing down food, hurriedly, without any effort to taste or enjoy.  Like my yellow lab with a piece of cheese.  Or me with chocolate almond ice cream.  I was HORRIFIED to learn from my handy dictionary app that scarf also means to masturbate while strangling oneself.

Not really the meaning I was going for.

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah

Pie Night

Tonight is pie night.  A fun tradition at our theatre celebrating the halfway mark of each show.  Since we live in town and the majority of the performers are from out of town, we are hosting the soiree.  It's early in the day and I am already worrying about the amount of will-power it will take to politely refuse cherry, key-lime and coconut cream. If they just happen to bring butter brickle pistachio I won't eat a slice. I could spend 6 hours in the pool.  That might eat up enough calories in advance.  I could invite the guests in and leave to take a walk around the neighborhood.  I will be grappling with this most of the day and will probably have to blog several times as I attempt to rewire my brain around pie night. 

Weigh in was four ounces less than yesterday.  Yes, ounces.  After menopause, metabolism slows down to the pace of a slug....no slower than that. 

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah

Coming out of the Blog Closet

My daughter knows about my blog.  She appears to be ok with it.  My husband knows, my neighbor knows and a couple of good friends.  I still find it odd to put something out on the world wide web that ANYBODY can read.  It is a form of accountability. When trying to re-wire your brain to think and do healthy, low-calorie, low-fat things, accountability helps. And when you're around those who know about your struggle, you really can't look them in the eye and scarf down a triple dip chocolate almond sugar cone from Braum's.  My husband came through the door the other night and I quickly, though deftly, hid the chocolate malt balls I was munching on while watching a movie.  I did not weigh in for two days.  Made an extreme effort to get back on track and today weighed a decent amount.  An amount that shows me something is working. 

Still swimming everyday, but when the eating doesn't match up, there is no weight loss, no matter how many hours I spend doing water aerobics.There is such a large part of me that says "Ten pounds is good.  You've stopped snoring, you've stopped aching, and now clothes are more comfortable. It's time to stop." 

I'm not going to.  By what the doctor says, I am obese.  That sounds soooo disgusting.  Not morbidly obese, but as one doctor told me, "You're chubby."  What would you do if your friends just told you to your face..."You are obese."  Bettter they should say what my favorite cartoon of all time says...

Old woman says to her husband while she is standing in front of a mirror trying on a dress, "Charles, does this dress make me look fat?" His reply, "No, my dear, it's the fat that makes you look fat."

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah

Friends and Food

I can't seem to have friends without food.  Meeting over lunch and dinner is so common.  And my willpower to say no to the shake, cheeseburger and fries combo is non-existent.  I have no will-power.  I guess I need to face it.  I use to tell myself I didn't spend a lot on shopping because I just didn't put myself at shopping malls that often.  I was strong enough to resist the shopping temptation.  But that's not true.  I really don't like to shop.  Some women make a habit of shopping.  I avoid it, not because of my great willpower.  I just find it BORING.  And I think I told myself my willpower was so strong in high school and college, that it kept me out of trouble...no dwi (dui's present tense), no major drunken embarassing moments I barely remember, simply because my willpower was so strong.  WRONG.  I never liked the taste of beer, still don't and barely can finish one bottle of wine in a month and that is with my husband drinking with me. So, I have to admit it...where food is concerned I need more inner strength.  I know half the battle of weight loss is simply recognizing where the problem lies.  Most people don't have thyroid problems...they have mental problems.  I think Oprah would agree with me on that.  No special emphasis on the last statement. I somehow am writing in italics and I CAN'T GET IT TURNED OFF!!!!!!!!! Well hell.

My lack of willpower AND computer skills are depressing me.

Sincerely,
I'm Not Oprah  

Welch's Grape Juice

I gave Welch's grape juice a bit of a plug because their plastic jugs deserve it.  When exercising in the past, I started using (and I am using them once again) Welch's grape juice jugs as underwater resistance and flotation devices.  They work great.  I highly recmd them.  The hand grips are just the right size and the grips are in the middle of the jug.  Purchase the Light Welch's ( I swear it taste exactly the same as fully sugared.)  Enjoy the beverage, don't throw the lids away, peel off the labels, and toss jugs in your swim bag.  There is nothing like it for a very good arm workout. Just be creative and your shoulders will reappear after being hidden by fat for years.

Plus, after swimming now for two weeks, I no longer ache.  I don't hobble or wobble after getting out of the car.  I don't limp and I am MUCH more flexible.  Which puts swimming way up on my list of favorite exercises.  I still don't put my whole head under. And, of course would not be seen dead without my cover-up on.  But swimming is what I would have to recmd.  I guess I am going to have to join the fittness club when my little neighborhood pool closes for the winter.

One last observation before I hit the sack, I never realized how many calories beverages have.  I am craving orange juice.  On hot, extremely hot summer days I crave a huge glass of orange juice.  My biggest stuggle last few days has been going over the calorie count just because of beverages.  The forzen margarita I had  Saturday night certainly didn't help. 

I'm still not Oprah 

I'm not Dead

The dates are wrong on my blog.  I went back in to edit spelling and I must have hit something that changed the dates.  There's a part of me that hates computers.  I tried for two solid hours to hook up my daughter's ATT data port wireless thingy to her mac today and was totally lost. 

Whatever......   I went swimming early today cause I really wanted to make it to church.  Doing a lot of thanking God these days.  And I actually have clothes that fit now, except they are all black.  Which is so stupid to wear black when it is 110 degrees outside even if they are capris.  (is that how you spell that?) oh well, so I went swimming.  As I approach the pool I notice the gate is ajar once again and it looks like someone left trash or a back pack by the pool.  I get closer and determine that the trash is really a pair of tennis shoes and wadded up socks and a man's wallet.  I look at the wallet and it belongs to a 25 year old guy from out west of here.  Like four hours away.  On the other side of the pool the supposed back pack is really a pair of bluejeans, belt intact folded with a cell phone nearby.  Wherever the guy was he was obviously naked because all of his clothes were in front of me.  And he wasn't at the bottom of the pool nor was he in the grass nearby.  That's exactly what I told the police when I called the NON-EMERGENCY number.  I also stated I had not inspected the bathrooms because I did not want to find a dead body.  It never occured someone could be in the bathroom nearly dead and needing help.  Besides my knees get weak and I usually pass out or freeze in emergency situations.  I've been really frightened before and I know....I'm worthless. 

The policeman arrives and I suggest he check the bathrooms first and as he opens the men's door I say," I hope there isn't a dead body in there and a man answers back, "I'm not dead." Apparently a victim of poor judgement and lousy friends, this young man didn't remember how he got there.  No beer cans or drug paraphernalia or car anywhere in sight but he admitted having too much to drink.  The officer ask me to go get his clothes. When I brought them back I erupted with some very long held emotions about letting his mother worry, about someone in the world loving him, how dangerous alcohol and swimming can be when you're THAT drunk, and the true definition of friends and at 25 he should know better and grow up and I really can't remember the rest.  It wasn't a planned speech.  When I finished, the police officer ask me if I was ok.  And then he added, with a smile, that he couldn't have made the same impact on the young man.  The kid called his mother before he left in the back of the squad car.  He is on my prayer list. 

Chance encounters like that always make me think about what is God's plan.  It wasn't for that young man to die last night.  It was for me to find him this morning and tell him someone out there loves him very much and that he needs to rethink what he is doing with that love. 

Yes,  I still went swimming.  Didn't put my head under though.

As always,

I'm Not Oprah

Explanation

I think an explanation is needed.  I ask a friend what a blog was.  She told me an online journal of sorts.  I need to journal.  Some say it is cathartic.             Now I can't seem to get away from the color key.  Ohhh I need to mention I got a typewriter for college graduation.  This blog will go nowhere fast if I can't even figure out how to type on a computer.  I'm truly not that backward.    My profile says I'm not Oprah.  I'm so not Oprah I had to google her to find out how to spell her name.  I'm not Oprah because I'm trying to lose weight and keep it off.  That's all the phrase means.  I really have nothing against the woman.  It is just a little phrase to remind me that no matter how rich, how famous, how smart you may appear you can have a fat butt, lose weight and still have the fat butt come back to visit you and stick around for several years. 


Back to the idea of blogging.  It strikes me as odd that anyone, I repeat anyone would have the ego to think that some stranger might me interested in their opinion or views about any subject.  I have never read a blog, though I have friends that do.  I listen to talk radio. I listen to find out what they are talking about not necessarily their opinion.   I heard one guy say you need to write something daily if you are going to have a blog.  I will try. And I will go to the profile to try to figure out how to profile my blog.  Here's a start and I wonder if they have keys, buttons or descriptions for this: overweight, past menopause, happily YES happily married and from a dysfunctional family that truly makes me feel like I'm the crazy one.  (Oh please there has to be someone out there that might benefit from my life experiences.  I've always thought God let's you be put throught hell and back just so you can offer a compassionate ear to your fellow man.)

I started exercising a week ago.  First time I have every included diet and exercise together.  By diet I am counting calories.  By exercise, I am swimming in the neighborhood pool.  And in one week I lost 4 pounds.  I was floored.  It really works.  I think I have trust issues. (Never believed the ole "diet and exercise" phrase.  For years I would diet....then I would exercise.  But never together.  Maybe I am the crazy one? I didn't believe my son's oatmeal bowl could change colors with heat till they sent me one in the mail and I tried it.  That was in 1988.)

Going to go before husband gets home. Not yet ready to spring this on him. 

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah

Encouragement vs. Will Power

Encouagement while trying to lose weight is a tricky thing.  In the past, when someone was kind enough to say, "Wow those pants look like they are going to fall off. How much weight have you lost?" I would take it as permission to go eat ice cream at Braums.  That has got to be some weird mental quirk.  I am trying to re-wire my brain to say "thank you" to comments like that and keep working.  Invariably, you do run into people who haven't seen you in several months.  Last night was one of those times.  In the reception line at the theatre, a good friend from another town remarked, "Look at your face. You're losing weight!"  I was thrilled.  So pleased with myself.  This time though I did not go out with the gang afterwards to celebrate with a huge bowl of chips and queso. (This is a standard practice in theatre, or at least in our small town.  Generally, after one or more weekend performances a group from the theatre goes out for drinks/dinner after the show.We digest our performance along with the food, discussing everything from the lines missed to the mood of the audience.  Live theatre is so entertaining. But that is really for another blog, one called hobbies.)

I purposely took separate cars to the theatre so I could drive straight home.  I don't have the will power yet.  I spoke with my husband and he understands.  I want to go out with friends, but going out with friends ALWAYS centers around fooooooood.  I'm making myself hungry just talking about it.  When I tried weight watchers I use to carry a bag of baked chips in my trunk so I be ready for impromptu restaurant outings.

I weighed this morning and I'm down a few more ounces. I also put my swimsuit on immediately.  Thinking if I have it on I will drag my still fat butt to the pool. 

I'm going.

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah

Rural Internet Service

Living where I do confines my choices of internet providers.  We have a dish on our roof and with normal wear and tear, storms, birds, etc. my internet service is scratchy.  That's the appropriate word.  Today after a week offline the service tech was out here. A grouchy young guy, but he got the job done. Even though I did not have my online journal, I kept to my promise not to be Oprah.  I stayed true to my goal of exercising and counting calories and this morning I weighed the least I have since I started.  I weigh every morning.  I don't know if that is good or bad.  My most current little goal is to get to the obgyn office for my annual exam and just seeeeee if the nurse notices my weight loss.  Usually, often, yes for years I have ignored this woman.  She's skinny.  I'm not.  Coming to terms with your weight if often simply recognizing things you have chosen to ignore.  (Like your fat butt.) I suppose for years I have chosen to ignore the skinny woman in scrubs who weighs me in during my annual visits.  No longer. Nope.  She bugs the crap out of me.  I'd give anything to hear the words, "My goodness, how did you lose weight?"

I reconnected with a very old and very dear friend today.  Had lunch with him. Yes, him.  Love him dearly.  And my husband knows I do.  And I also survived a birthday lunch with my mother and my two sisters.  I did not eat ANY of the bread and had the best salmon I have ever tasted.  The lunch was very nice.

I decided to heal on the inside and the outside.
 
Headed to the theatre.  I looked in the mirror last night and realized the wig I wear makes me look just like the dead mother in the physco movie. 

Sincerely,

I'm not Oprah

Insanity in the family

Hello again. I've been offline due to a storm. So this blog is coming to you via my new iPhone. It's a little uncomfortable but I'll manage. Insanity in the family for me means just that. I will not publish the goofy things my family does. I'm not out for revenge and I would never want my mom and sisters hurt. Our theatre is currently performing Stephen Sondheim's Into the Woods. Sondheim puts poetry to music. Into the Woods was on broadway in 1987 and was totally overshadowed by Phantom of the Opera. The lyrics of ITW are gorgeous. Full of metaphor,imagery, symbolism, and figurative language. It definitely fits the definition of a classic piece of work because you instantly recognize it as Sondheim, it flows with universal themes of all kinds, and each time you listen to it you are compelled to experience something in your past or present. The song that grips me this time around is called "No More." It is sung by a father and a son but could easily be interpreted parent/child. I would like for my mom and sisters to hear this song several times but they probably never will, not in their lifetimes.

This blog is meant to be helpful. Not sappy. The last thing I'll say about my family is the birthday lunch they have planned for me this Thursday, spearheaded by my mother. I'm pissed about it (is pissed ok to say in a blog? If the profanity police are out there reading you can cut pissed and just say ticked off but pissed pretty much captures how I feel) I'm trying very hard to figure out why it makes me mad. It will take a while to decipher the feelings on this one.

I'm still exercising and still eating. Weight has plateaued. Probably because yesterday at la Madeline I discovered my favorite lunch there has 1070 calories in it. Ahhhhh.

Disclaimer: I do NOT blame my mother and my sisters for my weight. I'm the one that lifts the food to my mouth. That statement is probably a huge step forward.


I'm not Oprah

New Part Time Job

It dawned on me you have to think of weight loss as a part-time job.  The time spent exercising, the time spent reading labels at the grocery store, the time in food prep ( no more fast food!!!), the time to record or log everything that goes through you lips. It really adds up. I'm guessing maybe 10 hours a week.  Perhaps my brain never really wrapped around the fact that spending this time on yourself will guarantee that you are around in the future to spend more time with people you love.  I went for a walk today instead of swimming.  The pool gets chlorine on Fridays so I try to stay away.  As I was walking I was reading.  I know I looked odd.  I love to read.  Plus, my scale says I gained weight.  Probably because I ate dinner at 11:30 pm when we got home from the theater.  I'm hoping that is the reason.  I truly did not cheat yesterday.  I'm scheduled to feed my daughter's horses today while she is out of town.  I wonder how  many calories that will use up?

Sincerely,

I'm not Oprah