Using clothes instead of the scale to measure weight loss

April 28, 2013

41.4 pounds to go

Since I’ve been dealing with plateauville for a month, this is the perfect time to switch gears and use my clothes instead of the scale to make me feel good about myself.  Oftentimes when I hit a wall with losing weight, this is the first back-up to jump into play.  Well, I didn’t lose any weight but look at how fabulous my ass looks in these jeans!  All is well.

If you google something like, “use your clothes to measure weight loss” all sorts of opinions will pop up.  The scale is too hard to deal with.  Scales are hard on your self esteem.  Clothes are easier.   Or: suck it up bitch and get on the scale.  There’s no concrete answer but there is clearly a scale camp vs. clothes camp.  It’s up to you which side you want to take up arms and defend.

In my opinion, using your clothes is a slippery slope.  Yes, when I’ve had a tough time of it this last month I will rock the skinny jeans or buy new shorts to prance in (they’re florescent pink hotpants in case you were wondering) to remind myself of how far I’ve come.   It is absolutely perfect for excuses.  “Well, I haven’t lost any weight this month but I’m pretty sure I gained muscle and fuck, just look how awesome my ass looks in these jeans.”  If you stare at my ass long enough you will actually forget I own a scale.  (It’s magic!)

I’m not saying to not be proud of my current weight loss, but it is a very convenient smoke and mirrors technique.  If I change the subject people forget about the first thing I was talking about.   It’s a bit of a psychological mindgame, but anyone who’s been on this path will eventually play it.

Down to the meat and potatoes of the argument, what makes switching from scale to clothes so bad in the first place?  The first question I have is, “are you wearing clothes that currently fit you?”  If you’re on a journey to weight loss, you’re probably like me and hang on to the too-big pants long after they should have been thrown away because it’s tough (and expensive) to let go.  If my fatpants I should have thrown out are a size 14 and I’m currently a 10-12 there is going to be a lot of room to grow.  If I lose 2 pounds I’m not going to tell very well and if I gain 2 pounds I probably won’t realize it either.  For me personally, (as I’ve mentioned in previous blogs) it takes 10 pounds of weight los to lose an inch in my waist so if I’m wearing clothes that are too big for me it’s easy to mask a gain or not realize a win.

“So what Bonnie?” you say.  “I wear clothes that fit me.”  Ok, fair enough.  Riddle me this, if you’ve had a tough week or two and those clothes are getting snug -- are you motivated to work out more so they are not uncomfortable or are you the type of person to say “fuck it” and buy a new pair of pants?  Depending on my mood and historical clothes buying I can really swing either way.  There is nothing more annoying than those pants that have always made me feel awesome suddenly biting me because I've put on a few pounds.  I have a skirt that’s adorable that I recently bought from Express but it’s just a smidge too small on me.  I’ll wear it to work but when I get home it’s like a superman quickchange to get out of it.  I hate that feeling of being uncomfortable.  Whether it’s too-small pantyhose that suck my legs like a vacuum cleaner or a blazer where I can’t lift up my arms or cross them.  And pants that create a serious muffin top?  Ouch.   To answer the question myself I typically shelve the pants that are biting me until I get back on track.   I’ve been guilty of shelving them for so long by the time I actually try them on again they’re swimming on me.

Getting back to the infernal ‘what is my dress / pant size?” question from my Mythbusters size 12 blog, we can’t even be sure if we’re really wearing a true size or a vanity sized item.  There’s a certain pride that comes with “Oh, these ol’ pants?  They’re a size 10” that I can’t let go.  Then deep in the back of my mind I know that half my clothes in my closet are 12’s and they fit fine too even though I’ve lost about 9 pounds since that entry.  So, to me, this means using your clothes only as a measure is extremely dangerous as there is a lot of room to grow.

Getting into the niggling details of fit when losing weight, there are four major stages I’ve noticed with a dress size:

            1) It doesn’t fit.  (you can’t get the zipper up / buttons closed)

            2) I am a squished sausage.  (I’m in the pants, but it’s only technical)

            3) It fits.

            4) It’s loose.

One carrot I will throw to the ‘use your clothes’ argument is when the clothes are in the ‘it fits’ category, I can tell from the fit as little as a 2 pound swing whether I have gained or lost weight.  I’ve even experienced it during this plateau / gain in the last month.  I was pissed that I put on weight even though I was exercising / hitting my calorie goals yadda yadda yadda my new awesome butt jeans which fit perfectly got a little snug.  And now they’re not anymore.

So, young grasshopper, there are both sides of the argument with scale vs. clothes.  Can you throw your scale in a burning lake of fire and solely turn to your clothes as a measure?  Sure, but be very very careful.   If your clothes measure is amiss (i.e. too big) you are in the red-line danger zone.  Ultimately, the scale can be devastating to my self esteem so it is very tempting to abandon it altogether and go to excusetown with my clothes.  I think everyone who’s ever tried to lose weight has come to this crossroad -- my recommendation is to stick with the scale.  It may be a love-hate relationship, but it is essential. 

Grumblesauce

April 21, 2013

41.5 pounds to go

If you're not cheating, you're not trying.

These past few weeks have been infuriating when it comes to my weight loss.  I’ve essentially been playing with the same 2 pounds for a little over a month and they just wont seem to get lost.  In the beginning I knew it was my fault – it was my emotional issues with the numbers and then I ate too much.  So I faced it, and got back on track with my regular calorie goals.  Then my period hit which is the automatic one-week stall I expect every month.  These past 2 weeks I said “I’m really going to get serious about this again” and I started exercising like a maniac and (drum roll) nothing!  The scale went up -- how is that possible??!!#%$^*@#!

This begs two questions: one, am I rationalizing with the “I probably converted fat to muscle” question?  I still don’t know how long that takes but if it only takes 2 weeks of running 3 times a week to gain a pound of muscle, then that’s what’s happened.   The other question is I wonder if I’ve accidently kicked my body into starvation mode by going to extreme with the exercise and calorie intake.  Am I retaining water?  Eating too much salt?  I practically was the salad queen this last week to try and nix out that possibility.  What is it is the magic answer?  Sometimes I wish my body could literally speak to me and say “just stop eating x,y,z and exercise four times a week and I will adhere to your weight loss commands.” 

One thing I’ve learned with the two other plateaus I’ve experienced already in August and December is that once I stop stressing about introducing extreme exercise and just hit my calorie goal then eventually the scale starts dropping again.  I just have to be patient. (and that's retarded.)   It reminds me of trying endlessly to see those blurred out “Magic Eye” pictures in the 90’s.  I spent countless hours staring at those books.  And to quote Kevin Smith’s “Mallrats” I could never see the fucking sailboat.  

Ok, I admit it.  I've never seen a goddamn thing.

Once I stop fixating it becomes easier to get back on track.  Just like with those blurry pictures.  Anyway, it doesn’t make it any less frustrating.  What I’ve realized and have had to re-learn three times now is that when I go extreme (300 or more under net calorie goal per day) I don’t lose weight.  And when I’m over my daily calorie goal by 150 or more calories I don’t lose weight.  It’s like there’s this razor edge of balance that I have to walk otherwise the scale isn’t going to move.  And that’s really between 1350 and 1450 net calorie intake a day.  What really amazes me is that the window is that fucking small.  It’s not fair!  What if I’m craving French fries?   Can’t I write my congressman a very persuasive letter and get a law passed to change the calorie window to lose weight? No?  Grumblesauce.

It’s funny because near the beginning of this journey – around July -- I calculated out a progress chart on the average weight loss I was experiencing per month and broke it down to project how long it would take me to get down to my goal.  I had two different pacing scenarios – one where I would have hit my 100 pound goal right about now, and one where I predicted it would happen in September of this year.  What I didn’t project was three goddamn plateaus in the process, and who knows how many more I will experience.  At this rate, I’ve lost about 11 pounds in the last 3 and a half months which means it could potentially take another YEAR to get to ultimate goal.  Heavy sigh.

Here’s the thing, I’ve already changed my ways with my food so it’s not like I’m going to say ‘fuck it’ and start eating Jack in the crack for every meal or stock up on bonbons to skyrocket into "I give up" land.  If I just keep going which I plan on doing anyway since it’s now my lifestyle, who cares if it takes another year?  Then the other side of me says “gaawwwwdddd, it’s sooooo long.”  (that’s what she said)

The other major rationalizer that kicks in is “did I set my goal too high? Should I be happy with a final number that’s not ultimately 100 pounds lost?  On one hand, maybe.  The other day on my mid-week weigh when the scale yet again didn’t move I went on a mad google-ing spree of healthy body fat percentages to see where I fell on the chart.  To my surprise I came in at 31-32% body fat which is right on the cusp of an acceptable range for my age and gender.  Technically 32 and over is overweight.  But according to the BMI charts I have at least 22 pounds to go which in the long run really isn’t that much.  Again, it begs the question: what is healthy?  What is normal? Where should I set the bar and my expectations?  Is it like standardized testing?  Use this as a guide but not something to define my life.

On the other hand with my ultimate 100-pound goal, I set it and I’m going to see it through no matter how long it takes.  I’m a capricornic goat and goddamnit I’m stubborn and I’m going to do it.  Get out of my way.  I’m not a ‘fuck it, now is good enough’ kind of person.  I will persist.  Even if I do have to put up with these plateaus and bouts of rationalization.  It comes with the territory, but to be honest I didn't think I would have to deal with it quite this much.  I keep thinking that there will come a day where I don't bargain with the scale or my food anymore and the weight will continue to come off and a semi-rapid clip.  Maybe it never ends, and that's the key to staying healthy.

It is legal to still love food

April 6, 2013

39.4 pounds to go

I think when people think ‘healthy choices’ it translates to ‘boring and tasteless food.’  If we’re changing our ways for good we’ll be stuck with salad without dressing, salt-less dry chicken and steamed vegetables.  We can’t ever eat a slice of cake, piece of chocolate or anything delicious ever again (sob).  We’re innately trained that if we care about the taste we must be wanting too much or placing too much dependence on the food.  The guilt kicks in for really loving the hollandaise sauce on my eggs benedict. 

So what if I eat my food with gusto?  I’m allowed to enjoy a 600 calorie meal just as much as a 1500 one.  The real difference lies in the level of indulgence.  I’m creeping up on the year mark of changing my ways (anniversary coming on May 18^th!) and I remember vividly that I would get ‘treat’ food every day.  And I would eat a lot of it.   I drank beer almost every day because I was fixated on IPAs and the craft beer market that has exploded in San Diego.  Every meal was planned for how special and how large it was going to be.  When I got near to the tipping point of wanting to change, I realized that by making every meal a special meal it took all the sparkle away.  In fact, picking out what I wanted started to become more and more boring and the ‘taste joy’ started to slip away.

The first food item I learned how to ration was beer.   On day 1 when I downloaded MyFitnessPal I went through searching for craft beers that were reasonable (around a 100 calories a glass) which didn’t exist.  Unless it’s light (tasteless) beer, it’s 150 and up.  The 1-2 bottles I was drinking almost everyday was the equivalent of my breakfast calories or 700-1400 calories a week which means ½ pound of weight gain per week if I kept it up.  I simply couldn’t have it anymore at that level of indulgence.  So my first commitment was to have a single beer just once a week.  And when Mike and I would go out for that one drink, man, did it taste amazing.  The level of joy and appreciation skyrocketed from ‘this is getting boring’ to ‘drinking the beer with gusto.’

I know I’ve gone into detail with food choices in previous blogs so I won’t hammer it to death again here.  But as a side note the next food items that went to rationing were French Fries, any kind of pastry / cookie, and hamburgers (hello “Islands” turkey burger, 620 calories of yum).  Those went down to the once-a-month frequency and often when I’m having my ‘treat’ day I don’t even talk during my meal that much because I really want to enjoy my food.  I also can’t emphasize enough that I often pick something that is more calorie dense and just eat half rather than pick something light that I have to force-feed myself.  In the past I would go on a diet and choke down that tasteless salad and dry chicken and it would make me grumpy and unsatisfied.  If I don’t like it, I’m not going to eat it.  Especially when I go out to a restaurant and everyone else has something scrumptious and I’m stuck with crap.    I end up scavenging off other people’s plates and eating more than I budgeted for.  Are you going to eat the rest of your fries?  Yes?  Well, me too.  You better order more. 

In short, food has shifted from a major focus to a minor one.  But I still enjoy my minor encounters everyday.  And sometimes I don’t even care about what’s going in my mouth, I just need to re-up my power levels.  If someone told me a year ago I wouldn’t care what I was having for lunch I wouldn’t have recognized myself. 

Another thing that happened with the ‘just enjoying what I can have’ shift is the ability to hear the alarm bells of over-indulgence.  It’s really a two-part warning system in place.  The first flare goes up when I’m full.  Then if I keep eating past that point the food becomes tasteless.  Or if it’s sugar it starts to hurt the back of my throat.  This is the full blast submarine screaming alarm.  “STOP! YOU WERE DONE 10 MINUTES AGO! WARNING! WARNING!”  In the past I didn’t care, I’d just keep going until my plate was cleared and often go hunting for more food when I was done.  Even now, occasionally I’ll feel wired, grumped-out and determined to eat a whole tin of espresso pillows from Trader Joes.  Then when I get about halfway, the alarms kick in and I ask myself “why the hell am I doing this?”  It’s as if I still have to test the weaknesses in the fence to see if they’re still there.  In the past I chose to ignore them, but now I pay attention and I feel guilty if I don’t stop.  It’s iron-clad.  If I’m not supposed to eat my body freaks out and tells me to stop.  Even about a month ago I was having a shit time trying to sleep so I got up and started wandering around my house.  My old self appeared and went to the fridge to rustle up something that would make me sleepy.  I ate a cheese wedge and felt instantly anxious because I knew it was not designated eating time. 

Another protection-measure my body put in place now is the aversion to shitty food.  It’s more than an aversion, it literally makes me sick.  My definition of shitty food is fast food.  Jack N the Box, Carls Jr, McDonald’s, Burger King, Taco Bell and even In N Out is on a very fine line of crossing into shit-town.  I never eat this stuff.  The other day I was coming home from a business trip in LA and I was starving so I pulled of into a strip mall which I thought would have plenty of choices.  The only place there was Jack N the Box, (it was that or Krispy Kreme) so I thought “well, what the hell, I’ll try the teriyaki bowl.  That fucker is 690 calories and tiny.  I ate half of it and became instantly constipated which stayed with me for an entire day.  I came home and was dying for broccoli.  And strawberries.  My body wants all the good stuff now, not the crap.  All the things I’m allowed to have are now the things that I want to have.

The signals my body gives me with food is like muscle memory.  It bounces back with practice.  As long as I listen for them, I can still eat the things I enjoy and I don’t feel guilty for still liking food because I’ve gotten better at stopping when I need to.   It goes back to ‘ye ol’ body awareness.’  I won't beat another dead horse but the signals can be so subtle that they’re easy to miss if I don’t listen.  I'll bring in an off-the-subject example of body awareness to demonstrate my point.   A few months ago I was experiencing some extreme light sensitivity because I started frequently getting migraines with aura.  Or at least, I thought I was experiencing extreme light sensitivity.  Every morning when I was going to work I was seeing what can best be described as brown spider-webs across my vision.  They would start at the top of my eye and float down.  It didn’t stop after 2 weeks so I freaked out one day after they had been particularly frequent.  I called up the doctor and went in for an emergency appointment.  They dilated my eyes and took a look for the health of my eye and everything was normal.  What I was seeing was the network of blood vessels in my eyes.  My doctor told me “it is very rare, but we have found in studies when people are extremely aware of their bodies, they can see the blood vessels in their eyes.  There are even some cases of people being able to see the pulse of their heartbeat in their eye.  So what you’re experiencing is actually really cool.”  And I thought, people can see their own heartbeat?  I wanna see!   A few weeks later I was relaxed and in the tub and there it was.  A pulsing light in the corner of my eye that matched my heartbeat.  And then I went into a deep relaxation and saw the entire network of blood vessels in my eye just like a picture from a medical manual.  I still see those shadows every day but now they don’t freak me out, they’re a signal that I’m paying attention.

Getting back to the food, I realize that it’s not the one joy in my life, but it is a joy.  And that’s ok.  It’s the balance I’ve been able to find after months of practice and paying attention.