bogeyandruby

Woke up
Got out of bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup …

Last week as I was measuring a client’s range of motion, the number ninety-five kept appearing. I wondered if it meant something beyond that the client was clearly doing her exercises. Perhaps I was biased towards that number, unconsciously pushing the limits of the goniometer, or holding back, in order to get the number I wanted.

Then there was Tom, a blind date who neglected to tell me he was 250 lbs overweight, then proceeded to berate my “shallowness” and harass me in a very scary way when I told him there wasn’t going to be a second date. That decision had way more to do with his sneaky non-disclosure and subsequent expertise at manipulating his size to guilt you into dating him than the fact that he was hefty, liked Alf and embalmed bodies for a living. This was back in the days before the internet and online dating when there was no way to screen potential dates by lurking/stalking/googling.

All this to say that we sometimes allow measurements to define us, hold us back, keep us stuck, feed our insecurities/obsessions/egos, etc. It’s not as if they’re going to provide my measurements at time of death the way they do for birth announcements. “We are sad to announce the death of our dear Hobbit friend, weighing in at 110 lbs (yeah, sure) and having shrunk to 4’6″ in later years due to bad posture, not enough calcium in her diet and lack of high impact exercise.”

In other words, the number that matters to you is not likely to be a major preoccupation with the next person unless you point it out all the time, put it on your business card or write regular blog posts about it. And even then, they’re likely to be fixated on their own special number.

Which brings me to the fact that it is day 26 of our Whole30 challenge. If you do the math, we are 13/15th’s of the way through. Considering the fact that I did not weigh myself at the beginning, I am surprised to discover myself being overly concerned about what the scale will say on day 30. I have an idea what I want it to read but considering I lie about my weight in my head anyway, does it really matter what it says? Wasn’t the initial goal to get healthy versus weighing less. I’m definitely healthier though my sleep hasn’t improved and my left hand is still numb and my hair is still galactic and my bloody yoga pants still fit.

One of the absolute pleasures of this eating plan is that there is no measuring, no counting, no weighing of food, unless of course you are following a specific recipe. I can’t tell you what a relief this is to someone like me who is obsessive about the bevel mark when measuring yet quite adept at rounding off pounds to the lowest tenth when stepping on the scale.

Stay tuned for Monday’s wrap-up when we take stock of the past four weeks, weigh-in ( or not) and plan for reintroduction.

My trusty tape measure.

Coffee cream reality check:

And all I can do is keep on telling you
I want you, I need you
But-there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you
Now don’t be sad
‘Cause two out of three ain’t bad
Now don’t be sad
‘Cause two out of three ain’t bad.

(Meatloaf … which we’re allowed, by the way)

20/30 = 2/3

Two thirds done. Ten days to go. Yeesh. Ten days is obviously a lot longer than ten minutes left on my run. At the ten minute mark, I would be furiously scrolling through my iPod looking for songs to keep me going. Maybe negotiating some sort of reward for making it to the end, like a latte …

Not that this is going to be over in ten minutes or ten days for that matter. It’s a lifestyle.

Two out of three ain’t bad, three out of three completes (me).

Coffee cream, I love you.

“Hey Nineteen
No we can’t dine together
No we can’t eat at all
Please take me along
When you slide on down (the scale).”

I thoroughly dislike the number nineteen and was going to skip an update today but what the hey nineteen.

Ian says there is less of me to hug these days but my theory is he can get a little closer to me now that he’s lost weight.

There are lots of advantages to losing weight. Things like spooning versus stacking; being able to see for yourself when your toenails need cutting rather than waiting until you draw blood from your partner; retrieving your low-rise panties from the back of the underwear drawer even though you can’t fit in your low-rise jeans yet; and going a whole week without anyone asking when your baby’s due.

As for the food, we have been 100% faithful to the whole30 plan. If we can do it, you can do it.

Hey nineteen.

Hullabaloo, day fifteen and half way though. The scream for cream has subsided to a whimper and will hopefully settle there until reintroduction. Insert wistful sigh right about now.

The benefits, at least for me, are emerging slower than the Spring thaw, not quite as stubborn as molasses. A little less bloat, improved gastrointestinal function, clarity of thought at least twice a day, and a rib-spotting earlier this morning.

Ian’s data is more scientific: 10lbs lighter (after breakfast and wearing fleece penguin pyjama bottoms, the kind that weigh at least a kilo or two) and an inch and a half less around the middle. I am thrilled to be losing weight vicariously though him. It almost feels as though I’ve lost weight too.

Almost, not quite.

One thing I have noticed so far is that I cannot skip a meal. No way José. I got into trouble yesterday after eating a late lunch then heading into town to watch a play that Ian’s daughter was in.

Right before, we stopped by the Plâteau to pick up some ordered prints from lovely street photographer Mikaël Theimer, who, by the way, has offered to take our “after” photo, then dropped by the Starbucks near the theatre to gulp down some black coffee.

Chugging his café allongé, Ian munched on the organic almonds and dates he brought along but I desisted because almonds make my teeth hurt and dates remind me of large, legless cockroaches. I simply cannot eat anything that looks like it was once alive: no pleading eyes begging for mercy, no hands and feet waving good-bye, and no insect shaped food with or without appendages. The only exception to the latter rule would be rainbow-coloured, fruit flavoured insects made with 100% sugar and food colouring.

Getting back to the play, it totally rocked but by the time I left the theatre I was weak at the knees. Not far from the ground, I know, but still wobbly. Snatching the snack bag from Ian, I closed my eyes and pretended I was eating date squares. It helped briefly but was no replacement for a solid meal. And eating something substantial at midnight wasn’t really an option.

Thank goodness for the clocks moving forward. It was the perfect excuse to get up for an earlier breakfast.

Lesson learned. To be fair, two weeks ago sugar ruled. Now I am forced to respond to my body’s needs.

I probably won’t post about our Whole30 adventure as often from here on in, that is, unless my nine subscribers clamour for more which is highly unlikely considering how slim and trim they all are.

See you on the other side of the hill!

Checking up on an old friend.

A hilarious scene from Alkestis, performed by second year theatre students at Dawson.

Day thirteen. Prime number, Fibonacci number, compound number, lucky number, evil number. 

Ian just lost his pants walking from the living room to the kitchen. I guess it’s better than losing an eye or his lunch.

We are a quarter of the way through this plan. There is hope and it is light at the end of a very tight tunnel. We are looking forward to good health and skinny jeans.

Okay, maybe not skinny, boot cut would be fine too as long as they are blue, have a snap and don’t expand to accommodate middle-age spread/muffin tops/cake tiers/pot bellies.

Ian weighed himself yesterday and has already dropped six pounds. He’s feeling better and more energetic. I am not tempted to step on the scale because I purposefully didn’t weigh-in on day one.

Unfortunately, I am lagging behind when it comes to energy levels, something the plan warns may happen if your body is used to relying on sugar as fuel. I also have to eat more often than Ian, in the form of nutritious snacks. This can be quite distracting as I am used to ignoring those signals in order to save myself for chocolate.

We’ve filled the week with activities that we enjoy: music, books, movies, and creativity. We also managed to cope with evenings out, declining the delicious food we usually enjoy at our beloved Mariposa Café and opting instead for Perrier and tisanes.

This coming week will present a new challenge as we are back to work. Not so much avoiding the forbidden food as planning ahead so that we have enough to eat for the day.

I absolutely loathe meal prep and cooking so I am grateful to Ian for doing the good majority if not all of it. My fridge has never been so full. My kitchen, never so messy. Oh well, It was about time I put it to use.

Finally, although I didn’t step on the scale or take a dreadful down-to-my-skivvies selfie under fluorescent lights, I do have a before picture of us taken by street photographer Mikaël Theimer on the first day of our plan.

Tum to tum, voilà!

You can read about days one and four here and here.

See you in a few days!

                             

Thirty is a number I know all too well from my runs. On those days when it feels like an uphill trudge all the way, I like to divide my run into increments, partly as motivation, mostly as a distraction to get me through it. It is effective if not very mindful. My treadmill celebrates my progress in percentages of ten but that isn’t enough for me. I divide the thirty minutes by thirty : one thirtieth; two thirtieths or one fifteenth; five minutes is one sixth of the way through followed immediately by one fifth at six minutes; seven and a half minutes is one quarter; and ten minutes is one third. Sometimes it’s so bad, I’ll divide a minute into sixty and count.

You get the picture. I do the math.

I’m coping with this whole30 plan pretty much the same way. Yesterday, we were at the ten percent mark. But day five is tomorrow and that means we are a sixth of the way through. Woo hoo!

The book explains what we should expect by use of a timeline. Day 2 to 3 is the hangover phase : “The amount of suck you experience in this phase is directly proportional to the amount of junk you consumed before you began the program. Especially if you consumed it consistently.”

Uh-oh.

I am clearly still in the hangover phase, headachy and foggy, my Hobbit body mourning the sudden removal of sugar as a source of energy, my mind adrift as it can no longer count on chocolate as a reward for getting through the day. Apart from these feelings of malaise, I am also having to adjust to actual hunger pangs, something quite foreign to me, as I almost always eat according to cravings. This is especially surprising because I am eating way more in terms of volume of food, three meals instead of my usual one meal plus snacks.

For the most part, this plan has been easy to follow. Today’s big challenge was not licking the peanut butter off my fingers after making toast for Sean. And I still miss my usual coffee concoction. Ask Ian how many times I’ve reached for the cream since we’ve started this thing only to shout, “Arghh, no cream!”

Something is definitely shifting, even after only four days. My tummy is less bloated and this morning I could actually see my eyes without having to move things aside. Ian is feeling a difference too and having less side-effects than me.

Apple slices and almond butter for a snack. And black coffee. 😦

My partner and I started the mother of all diets today: the Whole30.

Back in 2007, I cashed in some retirement funds, invested in a good quality treadmill, and changed my eating habits. My motivation at the time was to avoid a strong family history of diabetes. Having entered motherhood at age forty-one, I did not want to be an unnecessary burden to my son later in life, at least not if I could avoid it. Eighteen months later, I had lost a total of 45 lbs.

Fast forward nine years and one divorce later and half of that weight is back on.

There may be a million excuses as to why it has crept back on, but the main reason for getting it off, again, is my health. Any aesthetic benefit will simply be an added bonus. (Oh, to wear jeans without spandex again!)

This challenge is 30 days long and the rules are clear in terms of what we can and cannot eat. There are some foods in my diet that are making me sick (and tired) and I need to first eliminate them before introducing them back, slowly, in order to determine which one(s) is/are the culprit. I’m pretty sure that sugar is at the top of the list. Nothing is too sweet for me … I am sadly, pathetically, totally addicted.

Lucky me, my sweetie has agreed to do this with me. He’s the chef extraordinaire and I am on clean-up duty. Our fridge is chock full of fruits and vegetables and we are taking advantage of Spring break to get a handle on this major lifestyle change. The most positive thing about doing this together is the moral support we will give each other, particularly on those days when we are tempted to throw in the towel.

The focus here is not so much weight loss as it is health gains. I so want to feel better. For this reason I did not weigh in this morning. Nor did I take any measurements or selfies. Have you ever felt great on a particular day only to weigh yourself and see a much higher number than expected? Ugh. I’d rather not focus on the numbers.

The first day is almost done and so far so good. The most difficult challenges? Drinking my coffee black this morning instead of putting a little coffee in my cream, and not having something sugary to look forward to at the end of the day. Sigh …

As a nutritionist friend/colleague once advised me: “Sharon, you’re going to have to find something else in life that makes you happy.”

The next thirty days will be as much a mental challenge/learning curve as physical. Right now I am taking it one day at a time with some strategic non-food rewards thrown in, like playing music with my sweetie, reading a good book, writing, and photography.

Thai coconut soup

Whole30