Weight a Minute

This is a hard post for me to write.  Even harder than my depression blog.  This post is about weight.  I've always struggled with my weight--well, no, that's not true.  As a child, I was pretty gangly and really skinny.  My senior year of high school is when I began struggling with my weight.  I've never been a healthy eater, but that year I guess the fast food & french fries caught up with me.  I remember being very depressed and generally unhappy about my weight.  I was still playing soccer, but not as much, and playing with friends after school had turned into extra curricular activities such as drama and mock trial, lending the perfect storm for an expanding waist line.

I was very self-conscious about it.  Looking back at pictures, I was definitely not as fat as I thought I was.  In my head, I was huge. In pictures, I wasn't even really chubby, just slightly heavier than I was comfortable being.  Then came college, and the Freshman 15--I gained that, and probably a little more.  I carried that around for pretty much all of Freshman year & through the summer.  Again, looking back at pictures, I remember feeling much fatter than I actually was (weird how that happens, huh?).

My Sophomore year in college, I decided that enough was enough. I was tired of being overweight, of feeling really self conscious about myself.  I don't know when weight became such a huge defining thing for me, but somehow it had.  I committed myself to losing weight-- I started going to the gym, watching what I ate, and I started losing weight.  Everyone kept telling me how great I looked--and I felt better about myself, but I still kept seeing 'fat!' when I'd look in the mirror.  From my perspective now, I like to say 'it was so much easier back then! all I had to do was go to class, the gym, an easy job at the library, and eat healthy food at the Commons!'

But, there is a different truth than that.  One I gloss over.  One I don't talk about.  Yes, I was going to the gym, and I was watching what I ate, but I was not being healthy.  I had an eating disorder. I would eat a 90 calorie snack, and a half of a sandwich (like the sandwiches you make at home, not subway/quizno's/togo's), and maybe a hard boiled egg.  That's it.  That's all I would eat all day.  On top of that, I would go to the gym 5/6 times a week and run on the treadmill for at least an hour, if not more.  If I couldn't go to the gym, I would freak out.  

I didn't know I had a problem, but there should have been some clues.  For instance, I distinctly remember being at work at the library, and finding a 90 calorie snack in my bag. (Special K made these really good snacks that were only 90 calories a pouch--they don't make them anymore, but they were so good. I called them yogurt chips, but I don't know what they were actually called). Anyway, I found a 90 calorie snack that I hadn't eaten from the day prior or something.  I had already had my 90 calorie snack in my dorm room for the day, and I was still hungry (of course I was, my body was basically starving), and I couldn't resist and ate the extra 90 calorie snack.  I was so mad at myself after I did that--I was doing so well, I chastised myself, then you went and ruined it with an extra 90 calories, you have zero self-control! In reality, it was 90 calories. Not that big of a deal--most diets can spare 90 calories here and there.  But, to me, it was this giant thing--it was terrible, that I couldn't even resist (through my starving, mind you), a 90 calorie snack.  This continued on for a couple of months--I would eat normally in front of my family, but at school, I just wasn't eating, really.

And everyone kept saying how good I looked.  And I still looked in the mirror and saw how fat I was.  

Here is a picture of me shortly before my Sophomore year in college ended, when I still thought I was fat:

I'm in the white shirt-- still thinking I was HUGE.

I didn't realize the error of my ways, I didn't suddenly get the picture, I didn't suddenly discover that I was not, in fact, fat. I think I just went home for the summer, and was forced to basically eat normally again, and ended up being healthy.  The remaining years of college, I still thought I was fat, but I didn't go to extreme measures.  I went to the gym about 3 to 4 times a week, and ate full meals at least twice a day (my junior/senior year I pretty much lived off of grilled cheese sandwiches and white rice for lunch).

I went through grad school, and managed to somehow keep the weight off--though, of course, the lingering thought 'you're so fat' was always at the back of my mind.  At one point, after I moved back in with my parents, I remember getting Chipotle, and thoroughly disgusted with my lack of self-control (fast food, again?!), that I devised a plan.  I would chew the food and spit it out, thus enjoying the taste but not ingesting all the calories.  Yes, this is embarrassing to write, and pretty gross, but it's the truth. And the truth is sometimes both of those things.  I sat on the floor of my room chewing pieces of burrito, and spitting them into a grocery bag, which I threw out after the "meal."  I feel unbelievably sad recalling myself sitting indian style in front of my small TV, doing this incredibly destructive and weird thing, thinking that it was my only option.  I did this for a few meals, but it didn't stick-- believe me, I know how crazy this sounds, but I felt such desperation.  I thought 'this could be a solution to your fatness.' Until now, I'd never told anyone about that.

Meanwhile, this is approximately what I looked like at that time:

I'm on the far right.

I know what Body Dysmorphic  Disorder is (read about it here), and there's no doubt in my mind that, at least on some level, I certainly suffer from it.  I couldn't see it then, but I can see it now. I can see it now, looking back at those pictures where I thought I was fat, I know that something in my brain was not perceiving the image in the mirror correctly.

Which is what makes it so hard about the weight I've gained now. For me, the mirror may not be a reliable source of information, but the scale certainly is.  And I'm a good 30 pounds from where I want to be, and at least 20 pounds from where I should be, medically. And it has made me withdraw.  I don't want to see anyone because I've gotten fat, and of course they'll notice, and I'm embarrassed. I don't want to see anyone until I lose the weight.

I keep trying-- I keep leaving details out in my brain about what I did in college and telling myself 'you did it once before!' And I keep failing, remembering that this time it will be harder--to do it healthy will be harder.

The other day, Tom & I had our engagement shoot.  I have been trying (and kind of failing) to lose weight for a few weeks now. I'll do well, and then fall off the wagon.  The evening before the engagement shoot, I was getting really down and depressed--knowing I wasn't going to like any of the photos that were taken of me. Knowing I was going to look like a 'fat cow' (my brain's nice words to me) in all of them. Knowing that no matter what I wore, I would be hideous. I went to Target to try to find something to wear, and I stopped to get a soda, and somehow ended up with a small cheese pizza.  I wasn't even that hungry-- I was just sad. And mad. And frustrated at myself.  I ate the piping hot pizza (as I type this, I can still feel the burn on the roof of my mouth), and hated myself even more with every bite.  When I was finally finished, I thought for the first time ever, very seriously about throwing it up.  I thought about it the entire time I was walking around Target.  I didn't do it, but I was seriously thinking about it-- and that was scary.  It is scary.  I've had anorexic thoughts, I've had severe restriction thoughts, but I've never had bulimic thoughts. Not real ones, anyway. Growing up, I had a disease called CVS, which basically caused me to throw up a lot--since then (perhaps, apparently, thankfully), bulimia has not been an option for me. So, the fact that it was nearly an option for me is genuinely frightening.

I went home and tried on outfits and felt increasingly hopeless, eventually having a meltdown and throwing on my pajamas, while trying not to cry. Eventually, I settled on some pants, a cardigan, a tank, and snazzy shoes.  But the process was very eye-opening.  I am always saying that I can't be too hard on myself when I make a mistake, but the truth is that I am hard on myself.  Too hard on myself.  And this might be why I so often spiral out of control. Instead of being like 'oh well, I ate three mini kit kats, I'll do better next time,' I turn it into 'of course you ate three mini kit kats, you have zero self-control, no wonder you're fat. You won't do better next time.  In fact, you shouldn't even try to lose weight because obviously you can't do it, you'll just fail, so you might as well just have two mini butterfingers and a bag of microwave popcorn.'  It sounds funny, and I actually laughed just now typing it, but in the moment, it really, really isn't.

So, what do I do?  I want to lose weight-- I need to lose weight in order to be healthy.  But how do I stop this?  How do I stop beating myself up for failing the impossibly high standards I set for myself? I never go with 'baby steps.'  And I think that's what I need to do-- I need to get out of the mentality that it doesn't matter if you walk a mile unless you also starve yourself.  It's not true.  If I can change my thinking, I can lose this thirty pounds, and I can do it the healthy way this time.  

But, only if I can build myself up, instead of tearing myself down. Or, in other words, undo a lifetime of habit.  I'll let you know how that one goes, but I don't really know how to start.

High Effort, Low Sodium

Hello, everyone!  As you may remember from my previous post, I have high blood pressure.  And I decided I was going to try low-sodium dishes, based on a cookbook by Sodium Girl!  Well, being night shift definitely has its disadvantages, and one of them happens to be the fact that it's pretty difficult to prepare food.  So, I haven't really stuck to my plan of eating low sodium.  I decided that this, however, would be the week.

Sunday night, Tom and I went to the local Ralph's armed with a list of ingredients from Sodium Girl's cookbook.  Some of the stuff I'd already bought the first go-around (when I didn't actually cook anything, but bought a bunch of ingredients), but I still needed a few spices and some fresh veggies and meat.  Apparently everyone does their grocery shopping on Sunday evening, because the store was packed.  We collaborated on getting some items, and used our handy-dandy smart phones to google what ingredients actually were.  For instance, neither of us was familiar with a green onion.  I asked a couple people working in the produce sections where/what the ingredients were.  For instance, is there a difference between a Zucchini and a Zucchini squash?  The internet says there is, but the produce man said there isn't, so since all the store had were Zucchini squash, I went with the produce man.

Anyway, standing in line at the checkout stand, we tried to guess how much our order (always find it a little weird when people call it this, but oh well) would be.  I guessed $150--I guessed first, so he guessed the same.  

Our grand total was $159 and some change--this included a copy of the Rolling Stone Nirvana magazine, and a Cosmopolitan magazine (I'll let you guess which magazine was for whom).  We were a little shell-shocked, but we pulled out our wallets and loaded up our groceries in the car.

The first meal I was going to make was Sodium Girl's Chicken Wraps-- I woke up Monday a little later than I intended, I ended up falling back asleep after taking the dog out.  Nevertheless, I was confident that I could still make dinner and allow us to get to work at a decent time.  I started prepping everything, and Tom went for a run.  About 30 minutes later, I began starting to freak out.  It was taking SO LONG, and WHY DID I THINK I COULD DO THIS?! And OMG, I ALMOST JUST CHOPPED MY FINGER RIGHT NOW.

Let me tell you, mincing garlic in a garlic press = NOT FUN when you have pretty much zero upper body strength.  I'm not sure it would be fun even if you did, but you get my point.

Eventually, I calmed the storm of crazy raging within me and realized that it just wasn't going to happen that night--I made myself be okay with it, and finished prepping most of the ingredients. When Tom came back from his run, I delivered the bad news (no chicken wraps this evening), and the good news (we get to eat Chipotle [i know, i know, SO NOT low-sodium]).  So, that's what we did.

When Tuesday came around, I was in the same tired boat, and didn't get up until too late again.  But, this time, everything was already prepared, except water chestnuts which needed dicing.  I got right on that, and began cooking.  

Our kitchen is small.  Like... really small.  So, it was kind of a challenge, and I made sure that the ingredients were ready and measured out so I could add them right away.

Everything went pretty smoothly... until the end.  The recipe called for plum jam (or other dark berry jam). Unfortunately, I couldn't find plum, so I ended up going with blackberry.  Anyway, I was making the sauce, and all was going really well-- it's a mixture of sesame oil, jam, brown sugar, and rice vinegar.  It was bubbling and smelling nice, and then all the sudden it's on my finger--and, as I turn around to turn on the cold water (that's how small the kitchen is), it drips onto another finger!

Ouch.  I haven't been burnt like that in a long time, if ever. Thankfully it was just a first degree burn, and I kept it under cool water for at least 10 minutes--but, still.  Not fun.  And not an auspicious start to my cooking endeavor.

Also, I cooked the chicken too long.  This was my first time working with ground chicken (actually, ground anything, I think..). The recipe said to cook it for "about ten minutes," for 1.5 lbs (I used 2 lbs), and I probably ended up cooking it for like 20 minutes, if not more.  Oops.  Oh well, we won't die from salmonella that way, at least.

We scooped some of the chicken onto the lettuce (or cabbage?  I'm not really sure.  The guy at the grocery store told me it was butter lettuce, but everyone who sees it says cabbage), and put some of the blackberry sauce on there (I had to microwave it because it became this hard, thick thing--more reminiscent of sludge than a sauce).

The end result?  Tom really liked it.  I feel confident that he wasn't just saying that because I personally did not care for it all that much, and told him as much-- which would have been the perfect opportunity for him to be like "Yeah, it's not that great."  But, he said he loved it.  So, that's good.  He ate a lot of it, and I didn't eat very much (in fact, I was still hungry after dinner)-- which sucked because it was dinner for Tuesday AND Wednesday.

[I actually wasn't feeling well on Wednesday, so I ended up not really eating, and cooked a few eggs when I got home--seasoned them with white pepper, and began to feel better.  Tom ate the chicken wraps and insisted again that they were delicious.]

Despite the fact that I didn't care for it very much, I'd definitely like to try this again... for the next time, maybe only a pound of chicken, and I'll not be cooking it for double the recommended time.  Also, I'll find some plum jam.  And try to figure out what I did wrong with the sauce to make it turn to sludge.

Meal #1 - Tuesday and Wednesday - Chicken Wraps with Plum Blackberry Sauce  Sludge:

Not quite P.F. Changs...

Thursday brought about a different meal-- the Honey Baked Pork-chop.  I was searing, I was baking, I was broiling, I was making gravy!  This one went relatively smoothly, until the end, when I couldn't get my meat thermometer to read correctly!  I'd been cooking for an hour, and needless to say I was a little frustrated, as I am wont to get when I've been doing any one thing for too long.  I finally ended up taking them out and giving up, after which time the meat thermometer read properly.  In fact, I would have liked them a little less done, actually.  Oh well, for next time I'll know!

I also cooked some asparagus in the toaster oven at work, I drizzled a little olive oil on them, and then cooked them for approximately 20 minutes before seasoning the stalks with some pepper.

Meal #2 - Honey Baked Pork Chops and Roasted Asparagus

Toughen up, Pork-chop!

For Friday's meal, it was leftover pork-chops, asparagus, and I ended up making some baked sweet potato chips (honestly, it was just too hard to cut them into fries with my crappy knife) with cinnamon and brown sugar.

Not quiiiite as crisp as I had hoped,
but enough to break up the flavor!

So, yes.  This was my first week of low sodium cooking.  Overall, not too bad.  I definitely learned some lessons:

1) Prep the night before.
2) Make sure you have all ingredients/proper tools before cooking.
3) Don't stress.  Yeah, right...

I kind of like cooking-- I like the accomplishment I get from having actually made a meal.  It's pretty satisfying.  I'm definitely not a world class chef or anything (nor will this likely turn into a food blog), but I'll definitely be sharing some stories, I can definitely tell.

I'm looking forward to branching out into more snack foods, and desserts.  I found another low-sodium blog via Sodium Girl's blog called The Daily Dish, and she has some really great desserts on there I'd like to try in an effort to keep me away from the vending machine at work.

Going out to eat this weekend with Tom. Originally, I had planned to cheat a bit at Outback steakhouse and have some delicious bloomin' onion, which I haven't had in a very, very long time.  However, I've decided to go ahead and try to keep the low sodium thing going, instead.  It'll be a challenge.  But, I am planning on rewarding myself after I've stuck to the low-sodium game for at least a month... with In-N-Out! With the caveat that the next day, it's right back to low-sodium.

Definitely looking forward to seeing how my culinary skills progress, though.  It'll be an adventure, to say the least!

Also, it's been 5 days since I minced garlic in my fancy garlic press, and I STILL smell like garlic.