My plan last night to begin introducing grains into my diet failed miserably. Not because I got violently ill or had a near-death experience (nothing quite that dramatic, sorry!) My plans were thwarted by a sore throat. I demolished half a bag of cherry Ricola cough drops while watching a documentary on the epidemic of prescription pain med abuse in Vermont (watch the trailer here) with little to no relief. This was after guzzling enough water to keep me going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes, sipping hot tea with lemon, and taking ibuprofen.
The icing on the cake was when I returned home to find my future husband in the kitchen, cleaning up from a delicious dinner of completely clean roasted chicken and sweet potatoes he had prepared as a surprise for me to come home to. Believe me, there was nothing I wanted more than to sit down and dig into whatever was making our apartment smell so heavenly Instead I sat down and cried.
"Really, Brooke? You cried? Because of a little chicken?" Go ahead and judge, people. I'm not afraid to shed some completely unwarranted tears every now and then. Although, I would say these were far from "unwarranted." Let me explain why.
First of all, if you have ever tasted something that has been created at the hands of Chef Daniel Hoyt, you will know that being unable to eat whatever it is he has made you is reason enough to turn on the waterworks. Secondly, I felt bad because he had gone through all the trouble of preparing the meal just for me to be unable to eat it. Not to mention my emotions were already running high, mostly because of the extremely charged documentary I had just spent that past hour and a half sitting through, coupled with the amount of pain I was already in. It was not a pretty sight.
Thankfully, as usual, Danny came to the rescue. He wrapped up the meal and put on his coat, ready to brave the cold to bring me wherever I needed to go. We settled on Shaws, and I purchased some children's Ibuprofen and Benadryl - liquid forms to coat my thoat, a trick I learned last year around this time at the Walk-In clinic. The next hurdle was finding something for me to slide down my throat that wasn't hot or terribly unhealthy. Danny asked me if I was just going to say "forget it" and head straight for the Ben and Jerry's.
I will admit, I entertained the thought for a split second.
Then I remembered the pain. And the suffering. And the fact that I was already in pain and I was already suffering without the added discomfort of stomach issues. Not to mention the fact that I had worked my tail off to stay on track for almost TWO WEEKS, turned down cheese, Hibachi dinners, pizza, chocolate cake - to give up all that work for some ice cream?
Instead, I made my way to the "hippy aisle" (as Danny calls it) and found myself a pint of chocolate Almond Dream dairy free ice cream! The old Brooke would have destroyed the entire pint with the excuse of "it's the only thing I can eat right now" or "I'll go to the gym tomorrow and work it off." Then, she would have wallowed in self-pity and guilt, self-esteem in shambles and feeling like a failure for the rest of the night, perpetuating the process of unhealthy eating with anything that she could get her hands on to fill the disappointment pit in her gut.
I will admit, it was hard not to eat the whole pint of chocolately delicious Almond Dream in one sitting. Instead, I measured out the serving size (1/2 cup), made myself a luke-warm cup of Yogi honey lemon tea, swallowed a spoonful of straight up raw honey and had my throat-coating children's medicine cocktail for dinner. Healthy? Overall, not so much, but it could have been a lot worse! I could have given in, made excuses and then felt awful, physically and emotionally, for the remainder of the night. Instead, I drank my tea, filled myself with water, and went to bed early.
I woke up this morning a changed woman, not only because my throat was no longer on fire and I could actually breathe through my sinuses again, but because I had gotten through a situation that was chock full of excuses and reasons to undo all I've been striving towards the past week and a half without fail. I didn't fall back on old habits. I refused to budge an inch on what I'd already decided for myself. I stood strong, fought hard, and won. And that felt damn good to wake up to this morning, let me tell you!
I know that there are times I will give in. That's fine, because what's life if you can't live a little? I also know that there are going to be less times I will give in because I am uncomfortable in a situation, because it's easy, becaue it's what everyone else is doing. Because I have no excuse anymore.
The best part? I have more Almond Dream to treat myself to later on this week! Guilt-free, clean, delicious Almond Dream. One serving at a time, of course.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Die Hard
I did it. I survived the detox.
Today is the first official day of the "transition" phase, where we can start adding grains, dairy, eggs, etc. to our diets once again. I'm not going to lie... I am a little nervous to do so. Mainly because I'm at work and really hoping I don't have a severely adverse reaction to something (read: CHEESE) and end up sequestered in a stall in the restroom for an hour. Knowing my luck, that's exactly what would happen. So I decided that instead of tempting fate, I will be continuing my detox-friendly menu until tonight, when I'm home in my own bathroom and can occupy the toilet as long as I want without shame or fear that someone else needs it. (Danny doesn't count... he can pee standing up anywhere.)
In preparation, I halved and roasted off a butternut squash last night to fill with quinoa and devour tonight. Being in my half-asleep, lemonless elixir, running late state this morning I didn't think that completely through, and packed the other half for lunch with some ground turkey and sunflower seed "pate" that really came out more like liquid awesomemess. Once I finish this post, I will be heating that bad boy up, sitting down AWAY from my desk, and chewing my way through butternut squash: round 1 slowly.
It sounds trivial, but my tendency to wolf down whatever is placed in front of me is something that has become glaringly apparent this past week. Most of my meals are consumed in 10 minutes or less, usually sitting either at my desk, in my car, or on my couch. I can't even remember the last time Danny and I actually SAT DOWN at our kitchen table and enjoyed a meal together - no TV, no phones, just food and conversation.
For those that don't know, my job consists of providing community and home support to kids aged 6-22 years old who demonstrate mental health and behavioral issues. This means I am in my car anywhere from an hour to four hours a day, depending on what I've got scheduled. It's no wonder that hitting the McDonald's drive-thru is appealing, especially if you're running late due to whatever crisis inevitably happened ten minutes before your visit was supposed to end.
This also means, since my client base is primarily children, I can't meet with client's until after school. Depending on the school and travel time to and from visits, I don't get home unitl 7pm most nights, sometimes later. Let me tell you, after a full day of being constantly on-the-go, once I walk through my door, remove my shoes and my bra and sit down for the night, there is almost NOTHING that will shake me from my couch-potato state. So, of course, we order pizza. Or chinese. Or make Velveeta mac n' cheese, because it's quick, easy, and there's no shame in eating it straight from the pot. (Not at my house, at least.)
So it's of little wonder that when I'm not eating on-the-go, I'm eating with my rear-end planted in front of the tube, definitely not paying attention to what's being put in my mouth. Most of the time I don't even taste what I'm shoveling away, which may have been the most problematic self-discovery of this detox.
Two Sundays ago, I arranged all of my ingredients for the meals I would be preparing to eat for the week. I painstakingly followed each and every direction in my pre-made meal plan, portioned and packaged each meal, then tucked them safely away, ready to be eaten throughout the week. After cleaning up my kitchen, I realized I had worked up quite an appetite. I sat down with a bowl of Apple Squash Carrot soup hot off the stove, flicked on the TV and before I knew it, I was scraping the bottom of the bowl. The soup I'd spent close to two hours preparing was gone and I didn't even know what it tasted like because I hadn't cared enough to pay attention.
I immediately reached out to the group of ladies I am detoxing with and shared my plight. Their suggestions and encouragement were incredible, as well as validating. Most are moms, some of more than one kiddo, who completely understood the on-the-go feeding mentality I had allowed myself to fall into. Here are some of their suggestions I have been trying to incorporate into my daily sit-and-shovel sessions:
Do I do all of these every time I eat? No. Do I even remember to do one of these things when I sit down to a meal? If I'm lucky. Eating slow is something that growing up in a family of six and living in today's fast-paced world has made difficult for me, but I'm learning. Someone (my cousin and fellow detoxer Eileen) recently said that it takes 28 days make something a habit. I am committing to changing the way I eat food now into the way I appreciate food every time I sit down to a meal. Especially when I've taken the time to assemble the entire thing from scratch.
Old habits die hard? Well I'd say this one has one foot in the grave.
Today is the first official day of the "transition" phase, where we can start adding grains, dairy, eggs, etc. to our diets once again. I'm not going to lie... I am a little nervous to do so. Mainly because I'm at work and really hoping I don't have a severely adverse reaction to something (read: CHEESE) and end up sequestered in a stall in the restroom for an hour. Knowing my luck, that's exactly what would happen. So I decided that instead of tempting fate, I will be continuing my detox-friendly menu until tonight, when I'm home in my own bathroom and can occupy the toilet as long as I want without shame or fear that someone else needs it. (Danny doesn't count... he can pee standing up anywhere.)
In preparation, I halved and roasted off a butternut squash last night to fill with quinoa and devour tonight. Being in my half-asleep, lemonless elixir, running late state this morning I didn't think that completely through, and packed the other half for lunch with some ground turkey and sunflower seed "pate" that really came out more like liquid awesomemess. Once I finish this post, I will be heating that bad boy up, sitting down AWAY from my desk, and chewing my way through butternut squash: round 1 slowly.
It sounds trivial, but my tendency to wolf down whatever is placed in front of me is something that has become glaringly apparent this past week. Most of my meals are consumed in 10 minutes or less, usually sitting either at my desk, in my car, or on my couch. I can't even remember the last time Danny and I actually SAT DOWN at our kitchen table and enjoyed a meal together - no TV, no phones, just food and conversation.
For those that don't know, my job consists of providing community and home support to kids aged 6-22 years old who demonstrate mental health and behavioral issues. This means I am in my car anywhere from an hour to four hours a day, depending on what I've got scheduled. It's no wonder that hitting the McDonald's drive-thru is appealing, especially if you're running late due to whatever crisis inevitably happened ten minutes before your visit was supposed to end.
This also means, since my client base is primarily children, I can't meet with client's until after school. Depending on the school and travel time to and from visits, I don't get home unitl 7pm most nights, sometimes later. Let me tell you, after a full day of being constantly on-the-go, once I walk through my door, remove my shoes and my bra and sit down for the night, there is almost NOTHING that will shake me from my couch-potato state. So, of course, we order pizza. Or chinese. Or make Velveeta mac n' cheese, because it's quick, easy, and there's no shame in eating it straight from the pot. (Not at my house, at least.)
So it's of little wonder that when I'm not eating on-the-go, I'm eating with my rear-end planted in front of the tube, definitely not paying attention to what's being put in my mouth. Most of the time I don't even taste what I'm shoveling away, which may have been the most problematic self-discovery of this detox.
Two Sundays ago, I arranged all of my ingredients for the meals I would be preparing to eat for the week. I painstakingly followed each and every direction in my pre-made meal plan, portioned and packaged each meal, then tucked them safely away, ready to be eaten throughout the week. After cleaning up my kitchen, I realized I had worked up quite an appetite. I sat down with a bowl of Apple Squash Carrot soup hot off the stove, flicked on the TV and before I knew it, I was scraping the bottom of the bowl. The soup I'd spent close to two hours preparing was gone and I didn't even know what it tasted like because I hadn't cared enough to pay attention.
I immediately reached out to the group of ladies I am detoxing with and shared my plight. Their suggestions and encouragement were incredible, as well as validating. Most are moms, some of more than one kiddo, who completely understood the on-the-go feeding mentality I had allowed myself to fall into. Here are some of their suggestions I have been trying to incorporate into my daily sit-and-shovel sessions:
- Eat AWAY from your desk/workspace - this is something I still struggle with, as I mentioned most of the time I am in my car trying to get something in my stomach because I realize it's been all day and I haven't had anything but my morning coffee (or, in my case now, morning smoothie for breakfast!)
- Count how many times you chew your food - Not only will it help you slow down in the moment, it will really get you to focus on how much you've put into your mouth. I noticed that I was filling my mouth so full of food, I had to swallow some of it before it was ready to go down in order to make room to move the rest. One of my detox ladies reccommended 23 to 28 chews per bite. I forget to do it half the time, but when I do remember, I shoot for somewhere in there.
- Put the fork DOWN - you know those Looney Tunes episodes where Yosemite Sam is sitting at the table, fork and knife in hand, and a whole turkey/pig/Daffy Duck is placed in front of him? He licks his lips, digs in, and the entire meal is gone in 3 seconds (unless it's Daffy, in which case it turns into a musically accompanied escape montage usually ending with Yosemite squished, singed and/or smoking from something going horribly wrong. Lucky, that's not often the case outside of Warner Brothers.) Just like Yosemite, if you have your fork in your hand, you feel like you need to continue eating. By physically placing the fork, you give yourself, your brain and your body ample time to process whatever is already in your mouth and your stomach.
- Drink a sip of water after every couple bites - I can't remember if this was a fellow detoxer's tip or something I've heard before, but if you can remember to do it, not only does it clear your palate but it also helps fill you up quicker!
Do I do all of these every time I eat? No. Do I even remember to do one of these things when I sit down to a meal? If I'm lucky. Eating slow is something that growing up in a family of six and living in today's fast-paced world has made difficult for me, but I'm learning. Someone (my cousin and fellow detoxer Eileen) recently said that it takes 28 days make something a habit. I am committing to changing the way I eat food now into the way I appreciate food every time I sit down to a meal. Especially when I've taken the time to assemble the entire thing from scratch.
Old habits die hard? Well I'd say this one has one foot in the grave.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Find Your Wings
I would first like to say thank you for the OVERWHELMING support of my friends and family who have read this little piece of the internet I call my own. It is amazing what social networking can do nowadays... a simple post about my itty bitty blog on my profile and the flood of texts, comments, well wishes and encouragement I have been receiving all day are enough to bring a girl to tears. Seriously, I have some pretty badass people in my life as cheerleaders. It's incredible, and impossible without you.
Moving on...
For the past two days I have been immersing myself in wedding planning. By that, I mean I have been watching Say Yes To The Dress, both Bridesmaids and Brides editions, on an endless loop. I have learned I do not like silky taffeta. I want shorter dresses, charcoal grey or navy blue (jury is still out on that one) and the most important thing I've learned?
Bitches. Be. Cray.
Some of the people on that show are just outrageous! I witnessed a friendship destroyed, multiple sister feuds, a southern belle show-down, and more meltdowns than Chernobyl. It reinforces my choice to follow in my dear friend Lyndsie's footsteps and have all my girls pick their gown in the color, fabric and length I pre-designate. Eliminates (most of) the drama.
While I was watching, there was one particular bridesmaid that really struck a chord. I will say, before going any further, that I will cry at a laundry detergent commercial if it has any one of the following: old people holding hands, dads and their kids, puppies, or sappy music. Any combo of those and game over - I am a sobbing mess for at least 5 minutes afterwards.
This episode featured Jamie, a former collegiate swimmer who was uncomfortable with her new post-athletics body. She was in no way, shape or form "fat" - sure, she was a little curvy, but she was also tall and athletic. She and her sister were the only bridesmaids in her mother's small second ceremony to her stepfather, and with each dress she bravely came out on the pedestal in, you could see her self-esteem crumble. She eventually broke down to her mother and the rest of America about her hatred of her new body, how uncomfortable she felt, and how she no longer knew how to shop for herself.
I sat under my fleece blanket in my tiny apartment, mason jar of water with lemon in hand, openly weeping for this girl. It was so close to home, from the post-athlete body crisis to being in her mother's second wedding to her sister - tall, skinny, dark hair and skin. It was my family on that television and I was playing the role of Jamie.
After she found a dress that flattered her figure and actually made her smile when she looked in the mirror, I thought about how far I've come since I first felt that way. I haven't had that soul-crushing sadness about myself since September after the second turning point picture emerged (it's on my first post... if you haven't seen it yet take a peek), and that's pretty awesome for someone who's always struggled with self-esteem issues. Even when I was at my prime "fighting weight", in the best shape of my life, Senior year of college passing fitness tests and feeling good, I never felt truely good about myself. I was always the tall girl, the "big" girl, the girl that could bench press the majority of my friend base. I never thought I was sexy.
I don't know if it's the clean eating, being in a healthy relationship with a wonderful man, more maturity that comes with being 24, or just that I've finally turned that corner for myself. I'm sure it's a combination of all things, but I feel like a stone cold fox more often than not nowadays. (Okay, maybe not quite that confident yet, but definitely getting there!)
So, to all the Jamie's in the world who have gone through some changes and aren't quite sure how to navigate them yet, just keep swimming. It does get better. Eventually your low self-esteem days turn into okay days, then good days, then fan-freaking-tastic days where you suddenly feel like a Victoria Secret Model in the grocery store, strutting your stuff down the produce aisle with imaginary wings taped to your back. It's a process, it takes time, and it may not always end up the way you thought it would. But you will end up right where you are supposed to be. That's what I tell myself when I have my bad days where nothing fits right and I'd rather just devour an entire pizza and pass out then face the world. It's about having more days where you feel confident in yourself no matter what you see looking back at you when you look in the mirror.
Especially when the person looking back at you is wearing a smile. And maybe some wings.
Moving on...
For the past two days I have been immersing myself in wedding planning. By that, I mean I have been watching Say Yes To The Dress, both Bridesmaids and Brides editions, on an endless loop. I have learned I do not like silky taffeta. I want shorter dresses, charcoal grey or navy blue (jury is still out on that one) and the most important thing I've learned?
Bitches. Be. Cray.
Some of the people on that show are just outrageous! I witnessed a friendship destroyed, multiple sister feuds, a southern belle show-down, and more meltdowns than Chernobyl. It reinforces my choice to follow in my dear friend Lyndsie's footsteps and have all my girls pick their gown in the color, fabric and length I pre-designate. Eliminates (most of) the drama.
While I was watching, there was one particular bridesmaid that really struck a chord. I will say, before going any further, that I will cry at a laundry detergent commercial if it has any one of the following: old people holding hands, dads and their kids, puppies, or sappy music. Any combo of those and game over - I am a sobbing mess for at least 5 minutes afterwards.
This episode featured Jamie, a former collegiate swimmer who was uncomfortable with her new post-athletics body. She was in no way, shape or form "fat" - sure, she was a little curvy, but she was also tall and athletic. She and her sister were the only bridesmaids in her mother's small second ceremony to her stepfather, and with each dress she bravely came out on the pedestal in, you could see her self-esteem crumble. She eventually broke down to her mother and the rest of America about her hatred of her new body, how uncomfortable she felt, and how she no longer knew how to shop for herself.
I sat under my fleece blanket in my tiny apartment, mason jar of water with lemon in hand, openly weeping for this girl. It was so close to home, from the post-athlete body crisis to being in her mother's second wedding to her sister - tall, skinny, dark hair and skin. It was my family on that television and I was playing the role of Jamie.
After she found a dress that flattered her figure and actually made her smile when she looked in the mirror, I thought about how far I've come since I first felt that way. I haven't had that soul-crushing sadness about myself since September after the second turning point picture emerged (it's on my first post... if you haven't seen it yet take a peek), and that's pretty awesome for someone who's always struggled with self-esteem issues. Even when I was at my prime "fighting weight", in the best shape of my life, Senior year of college passing fitness tests and feeling good, I never felt truely good about myself. I was always the tall girl, the "big" girl, the girl that could bench press the majority of my friend base. I never thought I was sexy.
I don't know if it's the clean eating, being in a healthy relationship with a wonderful man, more maturity that comes with being 24, or just that I've finally turned that corner for myself. I'm sure it's a combination of all things, but I feel like a stone cold fox more often than not nowadays. (Okay, maybe not quite that confident yet, but definitely getting there!)
So, to all the Jamie's in the world who have gone through some changes and aren't quite sure how to navigate them yet, just keep swimming. It does get better. Eventually your low self-esteem days turn into okay days, then good days, then fan-freaking-tastic days where you suddenly feel like a Victoria Secret Model in the grocery store, strutting your stuff down the produce aisle with imaginary wings taped to your back. It's a process, it takes time, and it may not always end up the way you thought it would. But you will end up right where you are supposed to be. That's what I tell myself when I have my bad days where nothing fits right and I'd rather just devour an entire pizza and pass out then face the world. It's about having more days where you feel confident in yourself no matter what you see looking back at you when you look in the mirror.
Especially when the person looking back at you is wearing a smile. And maybe some wings.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Love Affair
I love cheese. Always have, so much so that when I was in 4th grade, I only asked for cheese for my birthday. Mozzerella, provelone, cheddar, Muenster - you name it! You'd be hard pressed to find a cheese I don't like (unless it's pepper jack... or that bacon horseradish nonsense. You don't mess with perfection, people!) I like to look at cheese as my longest standing relationship, always there when I need it no matter what time of night or how I want it. It's wrapped so many of the foods I love in it's warm, ooey-gooey embrace. It's never let me down.
Until this year.
I've never been one to drink a glass of milk just because it's milk. If it's laden with chocolate syrup or served alongside chocolate chip cookies, that's a different story entirely. Straight up milk has never sat well with me anyway, which was to be expected. My mother gave me many of her good qualities - her dairy intolerance was not one of those. I could still enjoy treats like ice cream, yogurt, and of course cheese with the use of a daily probiotic. Who cares about a little moo juice at that point, amiright?
Shortly before my 24th birthday, I began to notice intense cramping after visiting with my two main men - Ben and Jerry - on multiple occasions. Then, yogurt became hard to handle, making morning parfaits less exciting and mornings at the office awkward. A few months ago, I made a batch of homemade "poor man's" mac n cheese. Noodles, butter, cheese, all in the microwave until it's swimming in a delectable hot mess. I sat down with my bowl of deliciousness and destroyed it in under 5 minutes flat while watching Law&Order SVU. Ten minutes later... well, lets just say it looked like a crime scene in my bathroom when I was through.
I blamed it on the flu. I blamed it on microwave rays making my food temporarily radioactive. I blamed it on everything but my sweet friend, Mr. Cheese. Unfortunately, the next few times I ate something cheesy and the same thing happened, I could no longer deny the truth. My beloved had betrayed me.
It wasn't until I began LisaRenee's detox progam through Your Fountain of Health (https://www.facebook.com/fountainofhealthforplanthappypeople) that I really started to take a look at this long-standing relationship. The first four days of the "transition" period I worked at cutting back on cheese, along with grains, refined sugars and coffee, none of which are allowed. As Detox Day loomed on the horizon, my fiance and I made turkey burgers with brussel sprouts, red potato fries and loads of CHEESE DRIPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE OH MY GOD IT'S GLORIOUS. It was incredibly delicious, and resulted in some of the worst stomach pain I've ever experenced well into the night. The next day I started the actual detox with gusto, the memory of all the pain, exhaustion, and irritability of losing a night's sleep to stomach issues fueling me on.
If you've never heard of LisaRenee and her Fountain of Health, get acquainted and get in touch with her. It is incredible the transformation I've seen in myself and it hasn't even been a week yet. She provdes participants with all the keys to success - meal plans, shopping lists, daily email and/or Facebook support, information and education - the list goes on and on. I am so thankful to have been given the opportunity to participate in this program and will be singing it's praises as long as I can croon a tune. I can't wait to see where I am on the 27th when we wrap up, but based on my progress so far I know it will be a much better place than where I started. I know I will have learned even more about myself and my body by the end of this thing, but if I were to end it today, I can already take away so much it's astounding. I know I will be closer to my weight loss goal, which is exciting. And I am certain that these lessons, recipes, and feelings of self-confidence and pride are something that I will never forget.
But where does that leave me in my tryst with Mr. Cheese? It leaves me re-evaluating our affair for sure, and although I don't think I could ever fully leave him, I will be keeping a little more distance between us. He's proven he cannot be trusted to treat my body the way it deserves.
Maybe Mr. Kale needs a new main squeeze?
Until this year.
I've never been one to drink a glass of milk just because it's milk. If it's laden with chocolate syrup or served alongside chocolate chip cookies, that's a different story entirely. Straight up milk has never sat well with me anyway, which was to be expected. My mother gave me many of her good qualities - her dairy intolerance was not one of those. I could still enjoy treats like ice cream, yogurt, and of course cheese with the use of a daily probiotic. Who cares about a little moo juice at that point, amiright?
Shortly before my 24th birthday, I began to notice intense cramping after visiting with my two main men - Ben and Jerry - on multiple occasions. Then, yogurt became hard to handle, making morning parfaits less exciting and mornings at the office awkward. A few months ago, I made a batch of homemade "poor man's" mac n cheese. Noodles, butter, cheese, all in the microwave until it's swimming in a delectable hot mess. I sat down with my bowl of deliciousness and destroyed it in under 5 minutes flat while watching Law&Order SVU. Ten minutes later... well, lets just say it looked like a crime scene in my bathroom when I was through.
I blamed it on the flu. I blamed it on microwave rays making my food temporarily radioactive. I blamed it on everything but my sweet friend, Mr. Cheese. Unfortunately, the next few times I ate something cheesy and the same thing happened, I could no longer deny the truth. My beloved had betrayed me.
It wasn't until I began LisaRenee's detox progam through Your Fountain of Health (https://www.facebook.com/fountainofhealthforplanthappypeople) that I really started to take a look at this long-standing relationship. The first four days of the "transition" period I worked at cutting back on cheese, along with grains, refined sugars and coffee, none of which are allowed. As Detox Day loomed on the horizon, my fiance and I made turkey burgers with brussel sprouts, red potato fries and loads of CHEESE DRIPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE OH MY GOD IT'S GLORIOUS. It was incredibly delicious, and resulted in some of the worst stomach pain I've ever experenced well into the night. The next day I started the actual detox with gusto, the memory of all the pain, exhaustion, and irritability of losing a night's sleep to stomach issues fueling me on.
If you've never heard of LisaRenee and her Fountain of Health, get acquainted and get in touch with her. It is incredible the transformation I've seen in myself and it hasn't even been a week yet. She provdes participants with all the keys to success - meal plans, shopping lists, daily email and/or Facebook support, information and education - the list goes on and on. I am so thankful to have been given the opportunity to participate in this program and will be singing it's praises as long as I can croon a tune. I can't wait to see where I am on the 27th when we wrap up, but based on my progress so far I know it will be a much better place than where I started. I know I will have learned even more about myself and my body by the end of this thing, but if I were to end it today, I can already take away so much it's astounding. I know I will be closer to my weight loss goal, which is exciting. And I am certain that these lessons, recipes, and feelings of self-confidence and pride are something that I will never forget.
But where does that leave me in my tryst with Mr. Cheese? It leaves me re-evaluating our affair for sure, and although I don't think I could ever fully leave him, I will be keeping a little more distance between us. He's proven he cannot be trusted to treat my body the way it deserves.
Maybe Mr. Kale needs a new main squeeze?
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Not Another Fitness Blog.
I always feel like I have to start out like an AA meeting:
"Hi, my name is Brooke, and I have a weight problem."
The truth is I have had a weight problem since I knew what "being fat" was. My mother has an hourglass figure after two kids at almost 50 years old. My sister is one of those size 0, tall, model types. I joke that she got all the skinny and I got all the smarts. It's not far from the truth, although I can't say I got ALL of them.
I have always played sports, from touch football at the tender age of 4 until my last field hockey game of my college career in 2010. After the final whistle blew, I walked off the field, packed up my gear, and swore off all exercise for a year to allow myself to "recover" from four years of bodily abuse. As a result, as you can imagine, I gained a substantial amount of weight. FORTY POUNDS, to be exact, mostly consisting of beer, beer, Mcdonalds and - you guessed it - more beer.
"Hi, my name is Brooke, and I have a weight problem."
The truth is I have had a weight problem since I knew what "being fat" was. My mother has an hourglass figure after two kids at almost 50 years old. My sister is one of those size 0, tall, model types. I joke that she got all the skinny and I got all the smarts. It's not far from the truth, although I can't say I got ALL of them.
I have always played sports, from touch football at the tender age of 4 until my last field hockey game of my college career in 2010. After the final whistle blew, I walked off the field, packed up my gear, and swore off all exercise for a year to allow myself to "recover" from four years of bodily abuse. As a result, as you can imagine, I gained a substantial amount of weight. FORTY POUNDS, to be exact, mostly consisting of beer, beer, Mcdonalds and - you guessed it - more beer.
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| See the white tent all the way to the left? That was me circa 2011. |
Most people have their "turning point" picture, the picture that makes them say "oh dear sweet Jesus who is that wearing my face!?" For me, that was this picture. I have never claimed to be small, but I had also never been so heavy in my entire life. 240 pounds was a number I did not think I would ever see underneath my feet when I stepped on a scale, and to my horror, I had proven myself wrong.
I hit the gym. I ate my veggies and drank my water. I dropped about 30 of the post-grad 40 I had accumulated. Then, I ran a half-marathon on my 23rd birthday to celebrate my success.
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| September 30th, 2012. 200(ish) lbs post-race, double fisting the best beer I've ever drank. |
It was the happiest I had been in a long time. I felt like me again, like the athlete in me no longer had to kick and scream to be recognized amidst the massive body it was trapped in. I had come to think the only way I could be "fit" was to continue killing myself physically in the way I'd done for four year as a Division I athlete, a fact I did not like but could not refuse given the results.
In December of 2012, I met him. Chef Daniel Hoyt, a classically French trained culinary genius with a heart of gold. The first time he cooked me a meal, it was all over. Amidst adventures, laughter, many home-cooked meals and tuck-away nights full of beer, wine and fabulous food, our love and friendship grew. Not surprisingly, so did my waistline, but I didn't care... Danny loved me for me, not my size. As a matter of fact, he even put a ring on it in September 2013.
I said yes, obviously... especially because when he popped the question, I looked like this -
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| August - October 2013. That woman in the photo is not a supemodel, but the average sized head coach of our Lady Seahorses fied hockey team. I am the assistant Varsity Whale - er... coach. |
This was another turning point picture for me. Notice the shorts are the same I wore for my half marathon... exept then they didn't look like spandex a year earlier. When this picture was displayed for the entire team, their parents, and my fellow coaching staff at our end of the year banquet, I was mortified. I couldn't BELIEVE this was me, that I'd let myself get to this place AGAIN!
I promptly purchased a scale and became weight obsessed. Multiple times a day I'd step on, elated when even an ounce came off and crushed when the numbers went the other way. To be honest, I was close to developing an eating disorder. I thought about hitting the toilet after meals or slipping a few laxatives into my morning coffee to speed up the process. This was something not even Danny knew (until I read him the draft of this post) but because of his unwaivering love and support I did not start down that slippery slope. Doesn't mean I didn't think of "quick fix", unhealthy solutions for weight loss every. Single. Day.
I had lost almost 20 pounds by the time I tried on bridesmaids dresses for my friend's upcoming wedding. Myself, my friend's sister and three other bridesmaids began the process of finding the perfect gown. I found mine quickly, my biggest concern being my top-half and how to contain it in whatever dress I chose. Once we'd all made selections, the nice little saleswoman measured me up and wrote down my dress size, which until then I had been clueless of.
20. I was a size TWENTY.
I set a goal for myself right there - 3 sizes in 3 months. I joined a gym, started eating "clean" (most of the time) and have been working at shedding the weight slowly. Will I make my goal of size 17 by the February fitting? Maybe not, but I am going to try my hardest.
Baby steps are how I have to work, or else I get overwhelmed and self-destruct. I know this about myself, along with a few other things. I know I love food, specifically chocolate, cheese, and fried items. I know that I would rather drink a Diet Coke, coffee, or creamy, dark stout beer 9 times out of 10 instead of water. I know that I will never be "skinny", "little", "petite" or anything remotely close to those adjectives. I also know that I am a fighter, I am determined, and I will achieve my goals in my own time. I may not be where I want to be yet, physically or mentally, but I am certain that I am well on my way.
This is my story, and I'm going to write it my way, on my time. If you take the time to read it, thank you, and welcome on the Road to 180.
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