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Plateaus and Platforms

Angela Pea1 Comment

Plateaus stink.  I’ve been stuck on one for an eternity now. Wait…(she beebops over to WW, checks the weight tracker)…not actually an eternity, just five weeks. 

For Crying Out Loud!  These five weeks have included injury, surgery, recovery, consistant eating, only ONE splurge in the form of half of a piece of wedding cake at a wedding, and as much exercise as I could muster. 
Why do I feel like such a failure?  For crying out loud, I didn’t GAIN any weight during these five weeks!
So now what do I do? 

Here’s the plan, thrown together this morning as I sipped my coffee:

1.  Continue to pester Charlie over at Operation Shrink Charlie’s Big Butt, because she’s in a slump, too. We’ll hold each other up.
2.  Up my exercise, now that Dr. said “Go”.  I think maybe I haven’t been pushing myself hard enough.  Yeah, I put in lots of time, but perhaps the intensity isn’t enough.
3.  Eat. More. Protein.  I tend to cut that out of my diet, because just little bits add up those WW points fast.  And I really, really want that teaspoon of honey in my no fat unflavored greek yogurt in the morning, so I swap a protein point for the sweetness.  Probably not the best choice.
4.  Drink MORE water.  True, I average about 3 quarts of liquid a day including my morning coffee and make dozens of trips to the potty (thankfully right across from my office door!), but maybe a bit more would help.  I’ll just move my desk into the bathroom.
5.  Quit beating myself up over this.  I didn’t gain all this weight overnight, and I’m not going to lose it that fast, either.
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Image of Roan Plateau, Colorado, courtesy of the United States Department of the Interior website.
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Games People Play

Angela Pea1 Comment
I’m talking about REAL games, not mind-numbing brain games, even though those are fun, too.  Nope.  Today we’re talking about silly games to get your behind up off the sofa and out the door.
I played “Lets Run Up Hills” Tuesday evening with my kids and the dog. Okay, actually the dog gave up and just laid at the top of the hill, but the kids ran with me! Dumbest game in the world, thank you Buff Chad*. You walk out your front door, go to the biggest hill in your neighborhood then proceed to run UP the hill and walk down several times, until you feel like barfing or until your hamstring breaks, whichever comes first. I usually give in at the barfing stage.
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*Buff Chad = Personal Trainer who comes to our office and makes us exercise during our lunch hour. Same Dude responsible for my soleus injury. Why do I listen to him? Oh, wait. Because he’s cute. And Buff. And seems to know what he’s doing. And I want to believe that I can force my almost fiftyish year-old body that has born four children to look like my teen daughters’. 
 
Here’s a link to his picture. Go ahead and look. He’s the guy in the blue shirt on the top left. Ignore the rest of the stuff on the web site because I am NOT promoting any product or trying to sell you anything.  Unless you just want to be sold.  If so, then contact Buff Chad directly.
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Defatifying the Dog

Angela Pea3 Comments

That’s what the kids call it.  Defatifying the Dog.  We have a rotweiller/black lab mutt.  He’s a seriously big dog.  The top of his head is about upper thigh level.  Not only is he big, he is was fat.  That’s because we had issues in our house with everyone feeding the dog when he whines or looks pitifully at his empty food bowl. 

As I worked at chiseling away my own body clutter, I decided that the dog could use some help, too. I set out to convince my husband and kids that the dog is NOT starving to death.  To pound into their brains that he really only needs two cups of kibble a day. Only. TWO. cups. Even though he’s a big dog.  That’s what the instructions on the bag say.  That’s what the note from the VET says.  I also added “Walk the Dog” to the chore chart – and I nag the kids to take him around the neighborhood a few times a day.  Then I walk him again every evening.
Poor baby.  The first few weeks he would get about a half mile from the house and just lay down in the middle of the road.  Do you have any idea how hard it is for a 120 poud teenager to move a 125 pound dog?  Teen Daughter#1 would call….”Dad? Mom?  Max is laying down in the middle of the street and he won’t move.  The neighbors are driving around him.  I think you need to bring the car.”   Uh, no.  Just go sit in the shade and wait for the dumb dog to get up again. 
Weeks go by.  Max is acting a little more perky!  He’s feeling fine.  He brings his leash when it’s walking time.  (How do dogs know time?)  Last night, I am pleased to announce that Mr. Max walked for an entire hour, and didn’t lay down even once!  He even tried to run away from a chihuahua.  And, we can see his waistline again.  Go Max!

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