Well, not funny. Serious. And seriously bad. Last week I wound up in hospital for a rather nasty case of cellulitis. As a result, I was taken off my diuretic for a while, spent most of four days generally immobile, and packed on 11 lbs in the matter of 36 hours! You can read more about that adventure on my other blog found here.
Now even though this is a bit discouraging, that doesn't mean I'm off the weight-loss train, though. I'm back on half a diuretic dose to help remove the excess fluids in my system, and that's helping. As of this morning, I'm back down to 239.0, which is good. And I'm not using this convalescence as a reason to eat up (although that's been a challenge from a "I wanna be comforted!" sorta way), but I am allowing myself more food in a day. My body needs calories and nutrition right now, and trying to keep the weight-loss active in this time is actually not very helpful to the healing process. In fact, it can directly hamper healing, especially since I'm fighting an infection. The antibiotics I'm taking screw with my gut flora, and make certain vitamins and nutrients hard to absorb (particularly Vit. K—or potassium) which in turn leads to things like nose-bleeds and trouble clotting, so what I eat is really important.
So this is a time to relax a bit on the 1500 kCal a day diet and heavy-duty labor that was working so well. I need to get past this infection and heal, and to do that, I need to eat more. Not crazy more, but more than I have been.
But one thing I haven't lost is confidence that I can and will see 225lbs by the end of summer. Diet and exercise works, and I got it to work all on my own, eating a varied diet that was very satisfying. But wisdom is illustrated by knowing when to relax as well as when to put in lots of effort. Rest=healing.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
229.6 (Into uncharted teritory...)
Sometime back around February, 2011 (a period of Fat Man blogglessness), I hit 254 again. Wasn't too happy about it. But I just got back at it. This means I've dropped 25lbs this calendar year. This shows what effort and simple acceptance can accomplish.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
230.8 (stedy as she goes...)
A quick update:
Well, as I said in earlier posts, I'm done with two major things: (exclusively) low-carb, and getting the weight off fast. This isn't a race. This is a complete change of life, and while at times speed is helpful, for the most part, true change takes time and effort. The former I have in spades. The latter's taken time to root, but I think I have indeed sunk a tap-root.
Wanting to be healthy. Wanting to not be so limited. Wanting to not have to eat only certain things. Wanting to live longer. These are things that sound obvious, but when you're twice the size you should be, they seem so far away, so pie-in-the-sky. You want them, but they seem to live on the other side of Mars. So you wish. You pray. You look for things to help, to speed the plow. But there is no plow to speed. There's only you. You and your determination to do the right things for yourself. The hard things. The things that takes prolonged, ardent effort. The things that hurt, inside and out. True in Dharma, true in weightloss.
One thing that has helped the past few weeks is activity. Real activity. Hard work. My sangha is renovating a 100-year-old church as our new zendo. It's a TON of work. Back-breaking, knee-aching, elbow-scraping, finger-smashing work.
It feels so good to work hard again. To feel that full-body exhaustion at the end of the day, but lay in bed thinking of what I've accomplished, is a gift I'd allowed myself to forget I've been given. I really treasure that it's back in my life. That it's helping me drop more weight is sort-of a bonus, but only insofar as it's a reconnection to something. I like working with my hands. Even with all the physical limitations due to my disability, I have skills and talents that have languished over the years, primarily due to my voluntary disability. Obesity had been a fetter--an albatross--that I willingly wore for the majority of my life. Shaking it off, laying it down, casting it aside is still challenging, and at times I find myself still desiring to comfort myself with food and over-indulgences. But more and more I'm finding myself saying "no thanks". That's for one reason alone: a desire for something more gratifying, and more healthy. The desire to be strong and able again. As able as my limitations allow.
As I've said before, I have nothing better to do. I have never said anything truer in my life.
Well, as I said in earlier posts, I'm done with two major things: (exclusively) low-carb, and getting the weight off fast. This isn't a race. This is a complete change of life, and while at times speed is helpful, for the most part, true change takes time and effort. The former I have in spades. The latter's taken time to root, but I think I have indeed sunk a tap-root.
Wanting to be healthy. Wanting to not be so limited. Wanting to not have to eat only certain things. Wanting to live longer. These are things that sound obvious, but when you're twice the size you should be, they seem so far away, so pie-in-the-sky. You want them, but they seem to live on the other side of Mars. So you wish. You pray. You look for things to help, to speed the plow. But there is no plow to speed. There's only you. You and your determination to do the right things for yourself. The hard things. The things that takes prolonged, ardent effort. The things that hurt, inside and out. True in Dharma, true in weightloss.
One thing that has helped the past few weeks is activity. Real activity. Hard work. My sangha is renovating a 100-year-old church as our new zendo. It's a TON of work. Back-breaking, knee-aching, elbow-scraping, finger-smashing work.
It feels so good to work hard again. To feel that full-body exhaustion at the end of the day, but lay in bed thinking of what I've accomplished, is a gift I'd allowed myself to forget I've been given. I really treasure that it's back in my life. That it's helping me drop more weight is sort-of a bonus, but only insofar as it's a reconnection to something. I like working with my hands. Even with all the physical limitations due to my disability, I have skills and talents that have languished over the years, primarily due to my voluntary disability. Obesity had been a fetter--an albatross--that I willingly wore for the majority of my life. Shaking it off, laying it down, casting it aside is still challenging, and at times I find myself still desiring to comfort myself with food and over-indulgences. But more and more I'm finding myself saying "no thanks". That's for one reason alone: a desire for something more gratifying, and more healthy. The desire to be strong and able again. As able as my limitations allow.
As I've said before, I have nothing better to do. I have never said anything truer in my life.
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