Confession

My last post was September 29th. We’re looking at two months here, folks. I know I had promised to write more frequently, to be more consistent. But the last several months have been hard.

Ever since I had had Jordin I didn’t feel like myself. I blamed it partially on the stressful year I’d had. It’s practically impossible to feel like yourself when your life is flying off the tracks. So I ignored it. And ignored it some more.

Then, finally one day I was messaging my best friend over good ol’ Facebook, complaining.

I don’t feel like doing anything.
I just want to curl up in a blanket and watch Netflix all day long (which I did, quite often)
I feel like I’m failing at everything
My stupid boobs won’t work. I HATE pumping, pumping hates me. I CAN’T FEED MY BABY WITHOUT FORMULA?!?!
I don’t even have the motivation to shower
I just spend all day pumping, taking care of the kids, and doing nothing much else.

Just a lot of complaints. A ton of tears. And just generally feeling like crap about everything.

Her response “Have you thought to get checked for Postpartum Depression?”

Light bulb.

It made sense. What else could explain these unfamiliar feelings? I don’t have depression. I’m a pretty happy girl. Overly anxious most days, sure, but never depressed. I had damned good reasons to feel sad, confused, scared, and worried with everything that had been going on. But I have never found myself being actually depressed.

But for months I was crying all the time. Feeling like a failure. Feeling bitter and resentful towards everyone and no one at the same time. I would assure myself that Josh could handle everything with work and home if I just wandered off for a few weeks. I would snap at Josh for the smallest, innocuous, comments.

For example: I had just had a breakdown to Josh about not being able to take a shower that day because Jordin was on a roll. All he said was how about I go take one. “I’ve got Jordin. Go take your phone, listen to music, take a shower.” I flew off the handle. Tears, snot, and shrieking followed about how insensitive he was! I can’t, I have to pump! I don’t have time! Are you saying I smell?! Yada yada yada. Bless his heart, he let me have my mental breakdown. He rubbed my back as I mashed my face into his stomach, sobbing and snotting all over his shirt….calling him every name in the book. Once I calmed down he led me into the bathroom, waved away my apology, and made a pot of coffee for when I got out. God, I love that man.

I had absolutely zero motivation to do anything. I got to the point where I didn’t even want to leave the house, which completely clashed with my desire to just pack up and disappear for a while. Forget the nice weather. Forget it all. I just want to sit in my ugly green chair and do nothing.

So after some long heart to heart discussions, I took some steps to get this figured out.

And in the last month or so, I’ve been doing so much better. I’m not 100%, but I’m no longer logging 7 hours every day on Netflix, eating Ramen and Mac and Cheese and chocolate because I have ZERO motivation to actually get off my butt and cook myself a healthy breakfast and lunch. I’m not sitting around with headaches because I can’t force myself to get up and fill my water bottle.

But I am shaving my legs more than twice a month…because I have the motivation to actually do more than just jump in and out of the shower. AND I am wearing more than just pajamas all day too.

Have you ever spent MONTHS taking off the dirty pajamas, showering, and changing into clean pajamas? I have.

I’ve even started writing again. I just hit 68,000 words last week!

Things were definitely heading into “Who is this homeless chick?” territory.

Don’t get me wrong. I still have those days. A few days ago, for example. I blazed through 7 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Didn’t shower. Didn’t change out of my pjs. Just didn’t do anything productive. But the following day I dragged my sorry butt into the shower. SHAVED. Wore real clothes. And I did some writing, played with the kids, and did the dishes…plus an episode or two of Grey’s. Not the most productive day, but infinitely better.

And look at me today. A blog post.

So that’s my confession. Postpartum depression.

Postpartum

It’s no joke. It’s scary to not recognize yourself during the time that you should be enjoying and embracing change. It’s terrifying to wake up one day and not want to move or do anything. And it’s heartbreaking to realize just how many times I had wondered if Josh would ask his sister or a stranger to watch our kids while he was at work…if I decided to just walk down the street and disappear for a few weeks.

I’m not usually one to admit when something to this degree is wrong. I’ll keep it deep deep inside so I don’t inconvenience anyone. But you know what? I’m going to inconvenience the heck out of people. Because I’m feeling better.

Because I’m proud of the fact that I’m inching towards normalcy. I’m proud of the fact that I’m smiling and laughing and joking more than I’m crying and snotting.

And I’m ecstatic over the fact that I’m proud of myself.

So, please bear with me. I’m trying my best to be me, I’m trying my best to take charge of my life again. I won’t blame you at all if you leave this blog and stop reading because “Holy crap, she posted three times last week, and only once this week. SLACKER” because this time around I can’t promise that I’ll be consistent. Because I just don’t know.

What I do know is that this too shall pass.

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Whomp Whomp (Weigh in Wednesday)

Ahhh, weigh in day. I’m just going to get right out there with it.

Last Week: 232.3
Today: 239
Total GAINED:6.7lbs

Whomp whomp

This is kind of why I didn’t want to weigh myself. Dang it.

But to be completely frank, I can’t be too surprised. I’ve upped my water intake quite a bit, and I’ve been doing basic (easy) work outs, and I’ve been watching how much I’m eating and all that. Which should be a good indicator of “you’re gonna lose something.”

But come on, there is no other way to gain nearly 7 pounds in a week unless I’m eating an obscene amount. And even then, I’d have to eat some more. Don’t get me wrong, I gain weight fairly easy. I can look at a plate of nachos and my thighs explode.

But I’ve been doing a pretty good job. Sticking close to my calorie goals, moving and being active. So I’m chalking this up to either water weight or my body going “WHAT THE HECK, NICOLE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME!” My gut enjoys being larger than life. My thighs live to be jiggly and soft. Unfortunately for them, I don’t agree.

While the number definitely bothers me, I can’t put too much stock into it. Knowing all the good-for-me changes I’m making, I can’t be upset about the number. While I’d love to see the scale go down, I actually feel pretty great after the last week or so, excluding this cold that is lingering.

I’ve slept better, I’m not as groggy, I’ve only gotten two headaches this past week (compared to nearly daily) which is all awesome. Which I’ll bet it’s from not sitting around muching all day and being properly hydrated.

Of course I don’t feel 800% better than I usually do. It’s still enough of a change to notice it. And if I feel that much better after a week, then I know my body is responding positively to the change. Fat cells, not so much. Water weight, not so much.

So, I just need to push through. That doesn’t mean I’m going to cut even more calories or exercise all my food away because I’m “desperate” to lose weight. But I’m definitely going to wait this out, sticking with what I’ve been doing the last week, and see where that gets me.

I’m proud of getting back on the wagon, and eating better, and actually moving. I know I’m doing a good job, and I’m not going to let the darned scale get me down. #preach

How many of you have noticed a large gain after a fairly good week?

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Getting started is the hardest part

It’s been a full week since I’ve been writing. Tomorrow marks my first official weigh in being “back on the wagon.” I’d like to think it’s understandable that I’m nervous. What to expect, because I know that getting started is the hardest part of any challenge!

I’m certainly not expecting some incredibly decrease in weight. I know my body, and I know how it works. It usually takes a few weeks for me to actually see some weight loss. And even when I finally do see the numbers go down, they’re HUGE ridiculous numbers. Like 5 pounds in a week.

I’ve been doing this stop again/start again thing for quite some time, and I already know that those big number drops are more than likely nothing more than water weight. I had actually considered not weighing in for the first few weeks, just because I know this.

I don’t want to get all excited for some significant loss of however many pounds. I’m looking to lose fat, not just numbers. But, of course, I’m going to. I already know I’m going to hop on that scale and see how I’m doing. Curiosity? Sure.

But, considering being sick, I’ve been trying to bust by butt. I’ve been drinking more water, attempting to exercise as much as I can handle, and I’ve been logging my calorie intake as well.

So I’m optimisitic that this is a good start. Jumping in with both feet is the way to go.

But wow, I’ve went so long with not caring what I’m eating, that watching what I’m eating is almost as hard as attempting to be active. Eating whatever I want, whenever I want, is a really hard habit to break. Even harder than not biting my nails! I want to go back to when I stopped and demand I keep going.

Hindsight is 20/20. Right?

But at least this time I’ll remember what it felt like to lose a considerable amount of weight. I suppose it’ll be like a reminder that I did it once, and I can do it again. Plus, when I get back to those numbers it’ll be motivation not to stop. I know how it feels to gain back a good portion of what I worked so hard to lose, and I don’t ever want to be in this position again.

I can fully understand why so many people gain back the weight they’ve lost! Sure, a good 40 pounds of that was while I was pregnant. Insatiable cravings for anything covered in BBQ sauce and caramel corn will do a small part of that. The larger part was when my “only in moderation” switch was set firmly in the “off” position. That part was all me. Can’t blame pregnancy for that little tidbit.

Stupid little switch.

I always used to talk about “this is a lifestyle change” which is it. I still agree 100% with that statement. But when I was writing that I had thought I’d gotten to that point where my lifestyle changes were something I was going to be able to continue for the rest of my life.

When I “stopped” the first time around, I can easily attribute it to boredom. I got bored making the same things over and over again. I got bored working out the same way. I got too complacent.

Yeah, I don’t do well with change. But I also don’t do too well with complacency. I’m a complicated person (read: My life makes absolutely no sense). And combating that, is something I’ve got to figure out.

I don’t want to lose weight just to look back and get all angry at myself because “I lost 100 pounds and then screwed up.” I’ve only gained back 40, I couldn’t imagine gaining back 100 pounds that I worked my tailfeathers off for.

So, I need to be determined. And resiliant. And constantly thinking of new ways to stay interested in being healthy. And not just throwing my hands up in the air when things get too boring.

Variety is the spice of life. Right?

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Counting Calories is Bad?

I was floating around twitter bright and early yesterday morning and found a tweet from SHAPE Magazine (@Shape_Magazine) it kind of made me halt a little bit.

Shape Magazine

Of course my first instinct was to go and read the article. Rather than listing it all out you can go ahead and read it here. It was basically stating that counting calories can be the wrong choice. Several doctors listed what they thought about the issue.

Then of course, I felt the need to google it. Of course I did, Google is my life source when it comes to the internet. But I came across this website Diet Doctor. He had posted something short, simple, and sweet…and it definitely sparked some of the eyebrow raising responses I’m sure he was shooting for.

Calorie Counting Disorder
“Calorie Counting is an eating disorder”

Woah. I mean, WOAH. So now counting calories is bad? That’s an insanely generalized statement. He did post a follow up post titled Why Calorie Counting is an Eating Disorder which he further explained what he meant by his original post.

I found several other websites that basically said the same thing. “Counting Calories is wrong, focus more on quality than quantity” or “Counting calories is a horrible idea, it never works!” There are tons and tons of websites and blogs that will state that.

I will fully admit that when I first started counting calories I was extremely strict. I would choose less tasty/less healthy options over 20-50 calories. I would count everything in my mouth. I would definitely feel horribly guilty about myself if I went over my 1400 calorie allowance. I went crazy with my need to focus 100% on the numbers. I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t do all of that.

But in my personal experience, it wasn’t the counting of calories that caused me to do that. It was just myself having a flawed sense of what was appropriate. I did the same thing while doing weight watchers, and Alli, and low-carb, etc etc etc.

I eventually learned that what I was doing was getting a little out of hand. I evolved my calorie counting into something more than strictly focusing on the numbers. Yes, I still count calories. Yes, I do watch what I eat. No, I don’t have an eating disorder.

donut and me use

Do I have issues with food? Definitely, some aspects of my eating habits may still be defined as “disordered.” Do I still eat chips and donuts? Ummm, yeah. So I still love Almond Joys and Reese’s Eggs…so what. Those choices have nothing to do with calorie counting. It has to do with self control and “hell yes, I want chocolate!”

I don’t focus 100% on the calories unless I’m figuring out a recipe. I have learned what serving sizes are (the whole a fist is a serving size of, or a palm is…) and when I’m not sure I definitely whip out my trusty measuring cup. I have learned when I am full or hungry not based off of calories but based off what my body is telling me.

But I still hold on to counting calories because, while I know my body, I also know myself. I know I get carried away.

I figure on anywhere from 1400-1800 calories. 1400 was a number my doctor gave me, realistically I know that some days I will go higher. I don’t try and force myself to stay within 1400-1450. I understand that I am only human and some days I just want to eat a chocolate bar or have a glass of wine (or two). I have no problem swaying what I’m eating depending on the healthier option or what I really truly want.

I’m sure there are not so great reasons to choose counting calories as your means to weight loss, but it’s no different than there being certain situations where choosing to lose weight isn’t the best idea.

I do agree that we, as a general population regardless of your technique of losing weight, should focus on a healthy way to lose weight. We should focus on all the things that our body needs. Nutrients, the food pyramid, exercise, sleep, bathing, etc.

Counting Calories on it’s own isn’t an eating disorder just as LCHF diets, Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, Paleo diets, etc aren’t eating disorders. What you do with your chosen “diet” can become a eating disorder, sure. But choosing a specific “diet” plan does not make you someone with an eating disorder.

I, Nicole, count calories. I do watch nutrients, and intake/outake. I watch what I eat. I try to have a balanced eating plan. I try to make my body as healthy as possible.

I do count calories, but I do not have an eating disorder.

Back on the wagon (again)

It’s been nearly a year since I ended my Diary of a Chunky Chica blog. It wasn’t the easiest decision, but for unseen reasons (haha, I’m cheap and I was farrr too lazy to pay for it when I was supposed to, oops). But in my defense of laziness and broke-ness I didn’t realize that buying back domains was so expensive. $700. Yeah, I wasn’t that attached to the domain I had. So in came Nicole Leaving Plumpville. Woot!

Farewell Diary of a Chunky Chica

In the last year I wasn’t all that good. I realized how much keeping myself accountable through blabbing my weight all through the webbie world actually helped me. Granted I had only lost 25 pounds, but it was 25 pounds that I had had such a hard time losing without the support and cheering I had gotten though using DoaCC as that medium for frustration, venting, and support.

So, I’ve gained some weight back. ┬áThe stress of being “the new girl” at work and leaving behind all the people I had gotten to know, plus a new position, plus a million other factors (happiness, sadness, stress, and your typical busy lifestyle) definitely helped me gain some of the weight back, but ultimately it was one too many Diary Queen trips and “Big Macs are only a dollar after midnight” crap (DAMN YOU McDONALDS!).

As melodramatic as I am being right now, I haven’t gained all that much back. But just for the sake of being a drama queen and my absolute love of cliffhangers, I’m not telling you my official weight until my weigh-in day (Wednesdays).

But let me tell you something… it is sooo much harder losing weight once you’ve essentially quit. I constantly remember that commercial with the old guy that say “A body in motion tends to stay in motion, and a body at rest tends to stay at rest.” It is so true. Don’t get me wrong, I would “start back up” every once in a while. But all-in-all I would quit.

I got so used to working hard, watching what I was eating, and being conscientious of what I was doing with my body. But making the inadvertent decision to stop what a horrible idea. Now I’ve been fighting with myself over a year to get started all over again. And sure, there were weeks that I would lose some poundage but of course I would eventually gain it back. It was this insane up and down rollercoaster of weight loss/gain.

Bachelorette
Any excuse for a picture of Landon.

I had the kind of mindset of “Oh it’s not that much, I can lose it” the same issue that has plagued so many people who have lost a ton of weight. Granted, I wasn’t done losing weight. I had lost a good 85 pounds, which was awesome. But gaining some of it back wasn’t all that “awesome.” But it happened so slowly that half the time I was giving myself half assed excuses.

It’d be a pound or two in October, and then another pound in November, three pounds in December kind of thing. And the whole time I was bouncing up and down. It was nuts.

So by the time I realized that things were out of hand was about six months into it where I just kind of threw my hands up. I stopped weighing myself, I didn’t worry that clothes were too tight “oh, I’m probably bloated.”

So I’ve been kind of “well damn” about it. Still not all that motivated about it (A gym membership I bought back in October and have still yet to use speaks volumes)

But not too long ago I tried on little black dress I wore back in September 2012 and when it couldn’t fit anymore was about the time I realized things were seriously getting out of hand.

And yes, there was a seam that tore

So I reminded myself the reasons I wanted to lose weight, got this new blog all ready to go, and put it in my mind that I am definitely going to be trying harder to get this crap going again.

So here’s to getting back on the wagon (this time for REALS) and getting this done!

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