Week 1, Take Two . . .

Here we go again . . . Why? Because after surgery & vacation, I gained all my weight back. Yes, sucks, I know. It truly is so much harder to lose than to gain. But let's face it: I was in serious denial if I thought that Blue Bell wasn't gonna catch up to me!

So I started the new eating plan this past Monday. As always, I must refrain from providing all the juicy details, but I will divulge that it entails a lot of celery and spinach, so much so that I've had to visit Costco 3 times in the past week for re-stocking!

Day 1 and 2 were rough. Sugar detox. Need I say more? I was depressed. Not just sad, but mildly clinically depressed. Not to mention irate. It didn't help that the hubby was out of town for work, so I was doing the single-mom thing. (Shout-out to single moms, btw.) I had all of my mommy jobs, in addition to all the daddy jobs, aka garbage, dog, kids to bed, and generally making sure the house is safely turned down each night. I was running myself ragged, and on minimal caloric intake. On the plus side, I was so busy I never had to resort to my "distractions list" to help me wait it out till the next meal. And I never really felt starved. Pretty difficult when you're consuming 3 cups of spinach, 2 cups of celery, 2 cups of peppers . . . I just REALLY wanted sugar.

But I was so disgusted with myself for gaining all the weight back that I knew I wouldn't cheat. I wasn't going to give up on the first or second day. I had been here before, and I knew that if I could survive the first few days, I'd be good to go for months. Still, knowing I can do it doesn't make the doing any easier.

On day 2 as I partook of meal 2 between workouts 1 and 2, I remembered that model I met during the Zumba photo shoot, the one who said she had just won in a bikini competition. She had complained about all the oatmeal. I remembered that conversation, and I suddenly felt angry at the world. (Yes, I know this sounds all very dramatic. I'm bringing you into the world of sugar rehab, people, and it ain't pretty or rational). But here was my train of thought: Oatmeal?? That girl won and got to eat lots of oatmeal?? Has she ever had broccoli, green beans, or celery for breakfast? expletive. expletive. I would kill to have oatmeal on my meal plan right now. Does my trainer know about this oatneal eating plan? And if so, why is she depriving me?? Alas, that model probably hadn't just eaten her way through 4 gallons of Blue Bell; she was also young and had never birthed kids. And she didn't look like she had ever had any body fat to begin with. Ugh. Genes. That girl has good genes. No excuse. I did this to myself. Suck it up for now. Lose this fat. And maybe one day, I'll get to arise each morning, knowing that the greatest warmth processed for human consumption awaits me in a bowl of plain old-fashioned oats.

I got over the bitterness fast when I stood on the scale on day 2 and 3 and 4, and each day I had lost about half a pound.  It's nice to see results right away, though I know I'm not supposed to stand on the scale until Sunday morning, but I needed the reassurance.

one meal calls for 3 cups of spinach! in order to get it down, I chopped up 2 c. for a chopped salad & added 1 c. to the egg whites for a frittata. voila!

Not only has the eating plan gotten stricter, but my workouts have been amped up. Trainer Jill met with me on Monday, for what I thought was just a quick "let me show you these exercises you can do on your own later". But no. She put me through the workout. Hard core! I think I may have cried for my mother. This, after I had already taught an hour Pump Mix, an hour Advanced Yoga and had an hour of Pilates Fusion coming up that evening! Yes, count it. 4 hours of muscle. I mean, I've conquered 4 hours of cardio (marathon) but never have I done 4 hours of strength training in one day. I almost thought I'd roll out of bed the next day and look like Trainer Jill. I mean, something magical had to happen after that much strength training. But no. Just a bit sore all over. Luckily Tuesday was cardio day . . .