So...the diet. Yeah. Sigh.
I had lamented before about my plateau. My month long plateau. The agonizing, frustrating month long plateau. The not made any easier by my husband losing 23 pounds, agonizingly frustrating plateau. Well desperate times call for desperate measures. Or so my mom always said. So I did it. I knew it was not a good idea. But I did it anyways.
That's right. I took a week off. Daryl is always telling me to take the weekend off from my dieting. He always does and he always has fabulous results. Quick results. Fabulously quick results with no plateaus. So I did. The week we were off, I didn't count points. I didn't obsess about my weight or my food or the scale. I ate what I wanted. (those chocolate dipped crackers and peanut butter? yep...even those ) And at the end of the week, I stepped on the scale, closed my eyes, and held my breath. NO CHANGE.
So then last week, back to school it was, and back to the lunchroom and it's incredible salad and fruit bar. All of the fresh fruits and veggies and steamed veggies I could eat. Lots of water. And Saturday morning rolls around and once again, I stepped on the scale, closed my eyes, and held my breath. And yep, you got it. NO CHANGE.
OK. I love me some good steamed broccoli. Plums? My favorite fruit. Dipping my fork in the fat free salad dressing before I spear my salad, a habit I have gotten used to in the last two months. But really? If I can weigh the same eating chocolate covered peanut butter crackers as I can eating like a rabbit (and a hungry rabbit at that) then really, what is the point? And then...and then...if this is not enough, adding insult to injury is the call I get from the doctor. Telling me that all my blood work came back fine except my cholesterol.
So let's recap, shall we? After having Charlotte, I immediately lose 39 pounds and then another 15.5 over the next two months. I drastically change my eating habits. And I do mean drastically. I cut back on my Diet Coke to one per day. I drink at least a gallon of water a day. I adopt the mantra, "The whiter the bread, the quicker you're dead." No white ANYTHING. And what do I get? Weight that won't come off and has for the first time in my almost 43 years settled itself in my midsection. High blood pressure. High cholesterol. Getting up 5 times a night to go to the bathroom. (And while I am whining...when did I get my mother's hands?)
I have come to the conclusion that my body is revolting against me. Getting back at me for the years of subsisting on diet coke and carrot sticks, the years spent in search of the perfect tan, the years that I thought I was fat (at 150 pounds mind you). I am getting old. I am growing old...literally. And let me tell you,...there ain't nothing graceful about it!