Amy Writes

While running through the neighborhood this week, (I know, right? I ran through the neighborhood! Alone! I'm awesome!) I kept huffing something to myself. Over and over and over again, with the rhythm of my heavy breathing, I huffed: "Not by might (gasp!) nor by power (gasp!) but by my Spirit, says The LORD." It's from Zechariah 4:6. God is talking to someone named Zerubbabel but I didn't know that when I was running. Okay, let's call it jogging. I think it pops in there because it was written somewhere on a wall at my Christian school. Maybe in the gym. And because it seems appropriate, especially when I'm running. Jogging. Speaking of jogging and my Christian school, I remember having to run the mile in 8th grade PE. I was an athlete, albeit not a fast one . But I was still pretty confident in my abilities. The Varsity basketball coach was an 8th grade teacher and I guess we saw him right after PE. Assumedly scouting out his upcoming talent, he asked us

There are some days when you just want a cookie. Then there are some days when you just want six cookies. Yesterday was one of those days. I heard it said in Weight Watchers one time that if you drop a plate in your kitchen, and it breaks, you don't open up the cabinets and proceed to break all of the rest of the plates because you'd already broken the one. Well, I do. Except that the plates are cookies. And I'm not breaking them, I'm shoving them in my mouth. My brain actually justifies: "Well, since you've already had the one, may as well have that one too. And that one. And now would be a good time to try that one. Who knows when you'll give yourself this chance again? Grab that one while you're at it." I don't know how to explain this phenomenon other than to say that it is an addiction. In the same way that a person can be addicted to anything else. My relationship with food, and/or eating, has all the symptoms of an addiction. Secret bing

At last! The long awaited reviews of my varied exercises. 1. Dancing with the Stars - Dance Off the Pounds First, allow me to clarify: I am not a dancer. NOT. AT. ALL. I am out of my element in aerobics classes and on dance floors. So I was a little concerned that I would spend 45 minutes with my ankles wrapped around each other, worried that some hidden camera was broadcasting my attempts to all the internet But no worries! The dancers teach at a mercifully slow pace and pick it up as they move through the routines. After 45 minutes - 15 minutes each of Jive, Swing and Quickstep - I am sweating, but not out of breath. The dances have me spending a lot of time on my toes and jumping around a bit, which does provide a nice calf- and core workout. I think my favorite part about this one is that it is not cheesy! The dancers are perky, but not annoying. My recommendation: This one is great for those "I don't feel like working out" days, because of its fun factor. 2. Jillian

After about four weeks, the scale showed virtually no change today. And the tape measure wasn't too generous either. I would've sworn that over the last two weeks, I have lost at least 10 pounds of sweat. I know I worked off at least 4 inches from my hips and butt at spin class on Saturday. I have passed up at least 8 pounds worth of sweets and french fries. But the numbers would say that it's not working. AARRGGGH. I'm surprised at how easy it was to sink into the despair of helpless frustration. I know I'm doing the right things, and I know that in time it will pay off, but right now I want to eat an entire sleeve of Thin Mints, because it just really doesn't seem to matter. May as well enjoy it. Fortunately, I'm focused enough this time to recognize this as the pattern that has kept me in this place for the last several years. I get frustrated, and I decide that God wants me to stay just the way I am. It's a powerful argument when I'm feeling disc

I have always said that I have no desire to run a marathon. It's just not something that I have cared to add to my list of accomplishments. I really can't think of anything that sounds less fun than that. Except, maybe, for a triathlon. But now, at the suggestion of at least three people, I have been challenged to set a goal beyond "just getting in shape" or "losing weight." It seems that selecting some type of event that involves some type of training is a recommended form of built-in accountability. That makes sense. And, since it is a suggestion, I will do it. And so I am faced with a decision. What's it going to be? Previously, my goals have been things like "fit into the clothes in the back of the closet," or "buy a new swimsuit and enjoy wearing it." I'll keep those goals - there's a red dress back there and a suit buried in one of my drawers - but I like the idea of pushing myself toward something. But...a marathon? Ick

Today I grabbed a dress from the back of the closet. It was one of those times when I was fully expecting to be pleasantly surprised at how much room I had in it. That didn't happen. Instead, it fits exactly the same way that it did a few months ago. Hugging the hips a bit. It may fall a little better through the middle, but still, I'm surprised at how discouraged I am that the results aren't coming faster. I know it's only been a couple of weeks, and that I don't have a lot of control over where the inches come off first. That doesn't make it less frustrating. I want results...NOW.

Once upon a time, I was an athlete. This means that my body still thinks we are athletic. Hidden inside this sometimes-fluffy shell is the core of a hardened athlete. Really. I once was a 3-sport athlete, sweating through two-a-days and chasing fly balls and running endless suicides. And though those days are far behind me, my body remembers them well. So well that it laughs at the standard "30 minutes a day." Low- or Medium-impact workouts? Worthless. Nope. My body is a workout snob. My heart rate only elevates if I am running as if being chased or doing lunges while carrying a small person. As if protecting itself for what must be coming, my body keeps its cool. This brings us to excuse #5: No, really, for me, it's reaaaally hard. My body is not going to spring back into shape with a 30-minute walk a day (unless maybe I'm walking straight uphill at 4.5 miles an hour). It is going to take serious time, sweat and commitment. That's what it wants, so that's wh

Before my oldest was born, I was a teacher's assistant in a preschool. Morning after morning, I would welcome an assortment of precious children out of the arms of tennis-skirt-clad moms. Or moms in yoga pants, back when you only wore yoga pants if you were going to yoga. And I would wonder - why are these mothers leaving their children in my care, every day, just so they can play tennis or go to the gym? Of course, that was before I had children and understood that sometimes, placing my children in the care of others is an emotional necessity. But, still. These women provided the evidence that I needed to formulate irrational Excuse #4: Really fit bodies are evidence of a misspent life . See, statistically, really fit people spend a lot of time exercising. (Imagine that!) A LOT. And when they're not exercising, they're talking about exercising. Or planning their next exercise. And if their entire thought life and all waking hours are spent exercising, well, then, think a

Well, it hasn't been my best week. Which, I think, means that I have turned a corner. Because this "not so great week" still contained at least 4 days of cardio and the majority of the eating decisions I made were wise. AND we had company in town. So, though I should be feeling pretty good about surviving the week, I'd like to be a little more "in control" this week. Confession time: I didn't enter one thing on sparkpeople. Not one exercise or food. That may seem trivial, but not seeing the calories being counted makes it really easy to throw an extra spoonful of dinner on my plate or an extra handful of snack in my mouth. I also didn't blog consistently, which distanced me a little bit from my plan. That said, this week's results were still okay, if not slightly encouraging. I seem to be down another pound, to 2% gone. I say "seem to be" because I am convinced that my scale needs to be replaced. If that's correct, I'm a little

I don't know that I can add anything new to the Haiti discussions, other than just to say "Oh... Haiti." That's what I said when I saw the first headline on Tuesday afternoon. "Oh...Haiti." The "Oh" is really more of a throaty gasp, and I stop after "Haiti" because I cannot think of one appropriate thing to say, and I'm usually swallowing back tears. It seems petty and voyeuristic and even disgusting to read the stories or look at the pictures, as if I'm participating in some kind of media exploitation, but to remain disconnected or uninformed doesn't seem right either. I'm annoyed by the hundreds of facebook status updates that have nothing to do with Haiti - the thought of all of America just going on with their lives as if a quarter of a population hasn't just been wiped from existence makes my stomach turn. But I don't blame people for moving on. What, really, are we to do? I don't like feeling helpless. Th

Whatever.

I don't know if I've mentioned it here, but two of my grandmothers and one grandfather are still with me. Very much with me, as in, I sometimes see my grandmothers multiple times per week. They are all in their late 80s (one turned 89 last weekend!) My other grandfather passed away about 11 years ago, but after losing both his legs in World War 2, suffering a couple of heart attacks and, I believe, 2 strokes. That is to say, I have a family of fighters. Healthy, hearty fighters. So, unlike some people who look back at their family history and see disease, heart problems and cancers, I see actual faces, smiling across the dinner table. Faces of people who are still living in good health, in spite of some very Southern diets. This has led me to say, at times, "look at my family history - I could eat nothing but butter for the rest of my days and still be alive when I'm 90." And there is Excuse #2: I have no family history that requires me to eat well. I didn't s

I come from, on one side, a long line of hearty, Scottish stock. On the other side, it is a long line of hearty, Southern stock. We've got a whole lot of farming in our background. And I think I know why. We're built like farmers. Okay, I say that not having spent a lot of time around farmers, and I'm sure they don't all adhere to one specific body type. But I think that this body type, the one I inherited from my Scottish/Southern ancestry, would be good for farming. Maybe it's the broad shoulders that are good for carrying things to and from the fields, or the long torso that's good for bending over to plant or uproot. Then there's the short, stocky legs that are perfect for powering through soft, dusty fields. (Clearly, I'm picturing Little House on the Prairie farming, where Pa was always powering through soft, dusty fields.) Bottom line is: You want speed, you pick someone else for your team. If it's power you're looking for, then we're

This week, I was planning to write about the various excuses I have used to hold onto this extra weight. Ironically, I keep coming up with excuses that get me out of writing. For instance, I can't find the paper where I jotted them all down. It would be inefficient to start without finding that paper. Also, work has begun on the annual fundraising auction for one of the ministries we support. Since I'm leading the committee this year, computer time should be spent begging for stuff. Or organizing stuff. Or administrating stuff. And it's been really cold here, which means the heat has been on for what seems like weeks now, and my body is not made for these conditions, so I have been battling a headache and sinus pain for a few days. And, really, if I have time to sit and write, shouldn't I use it to exercise instead? While all of those are valid reasons for a slow down, they do not excuse me from what I need/want to do. So stay tuned for "Excuse Week."

The scale showed no change this week, but the tape measure came through for me! I'm down an inch to an inch & a half in several "key" measurements. Woohoo! Apparently, the exercise is working. Some victories: 1. I ate out an embarrassing 3 times on Friday - but enjoyed an egg white & veggie omelet, dry grits and dry english muffin at Dennys, a grilled chicken salad at McDonalds and then a salad at Outback. No fries anywhere along the way. 2. This morning I Danced with the Stars again, this time with friends! It's more fun with friends. 3. I have a dangerous time of day, which is right around 4 p.m. I gave in a bit - grabbed a few fritos - felt myself starting to lose a little bit of control, stopped and made some hot tea. Making the tea gave me something to do and it is helping to keep me warm, which is a losing battle these days. 4. At a birthday party on Saturday, I had no cookies or chips that were on the snacking table. Instead, I had some orange slices a

Any struggle worth struggling through requires the help of good friends. That is, people who are good at being friends. So, yesterday, a friend who is helping to see me through this little adventure handed me a couple of articles she'd torn out of a magazine for me. One was about workout foods - what I should be eating before, during and after I exercise - which was helpful. The other was called "No More Excuses." Some friend, right? I read through it and related to every single one, which I have used at some point - and she's probably heard from me at some point - and I agreed. I'm done with excuses. In fact, I've hardly made any this week, except that there really were just those two days where I couldn't find the time... I got home to find an email from her, encouraging me, providing some tips and suggesting that I come to her spin class the next morning at 8:30. No excuses. So I made excuses all night - It's my one day to "sleep in," we n

God delivered. Not only several scriptures to remember when I want to cheat - which I plan to share in the coming weeks - but also some pretty evident truths and applications. For example, I tend to silently judge people who are obsessed with their weight. But I am obsessed with my weight. Being a little overweight is part of who I am, it's a part of who I've always been. I've seen Jillian yell at the Biggest Loser contestants about hiding under their weight - and I understand that. Maybe not for the same reasons, but I get it. What if I lose the weight and then I have to work at maintaining it - what then? What if I lose the weight and then I have nothing to pity myself over - how will I get my affirmation then? Obviously, missing from those thought processes is the One Who Delivers. Why do I not believe that God will help me maintain a healthy body weight? And why do I choose to rely on other people telling me I'm "not fat," rather than just not being fat ?

If there is any area in which I want to succeed, I must make it a part of my spiritual life. I cannot be a good wife, a good mother, sister, daughter, granddaughter, friend, teacher, volunteer, or Temple Janitor without acknowledging that I am, ultimately, not writing this story. At the hand of my own pen, I would be one of the most boring, despicable failures imaginable. Only surrendered to Another am I capable of greatness, of being a memorable character in this epic tale. So if I am to succeed at this weight loss thing, if I am to create a healthier Temple, I am going to have to be motivated by Something Bigger than guilt. Enter my Pastor with the timely reminder. I opened my Bible to Luke 4 to follow along as Pastor covered Jesus' temptation in the wilderness. I smiled to myself as I saw God winking at me from the page. Jesus hadn't eaten for 40 days. Jesus was hungry. Pastor went on to talk about temptation, give some strategies for dealing with it, etc., and I went explor

"Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit lives in you?" I Corinthians 3:16, NIV Oh, if I had a donut for every time I've heard that. (Wait a minute...I think I HAVE had a donut for every time I've heard that. Because most of my donut eating has been done at church. Hmm...maybe that's a blog for another time.) As a kid growing up in the church and Christian school and then after that in semi-weekly Bible studies and fellowship groups populated by kids who struggle with temptations of all kinds, I seriously must have heard that verse quoted a thousand times. Your body is a temple, don't smoke. Your body is a temple, don't drink. Your body is a temple, cover it up. God's living in there, He doesn't want to hear your secular music. It wasn't until after college that I started hearing "Your body is a temple, don't eat that." At least, in my own brain I heard it, because I haven't heard

Monday is Weigh In Day! (drumroll, please...) And, according to the bathroom scale, I am down 1.6% from where I began. Hooray!! Some victories: Went to a baby shower yesterday and had zero desserts and about 3 sips of punch. Took bite-sized portions of everything. Had hot tea instead of fancy coffee drink. Went out to lunch, ordered a grilled mahi sandwich and only ate half of the bread. No fries. Ordered (and ate!) only soup at Chick-fil-A. Took copious notes in church. This would be a victory in itself, but on this occasion it was a double victory because the sermon topic was "Temptation." That blog will come shortly! Just finished the Dancing with the Stars workout DVD, didn't break anything and had a large amount of fun.

I mentioned in my last post that I had told a lot of people "my plan." In fact, I don't know if I've ever spoken as recklessly as I have in the last week. Somehow, I have worked it into every conversation, posted it on facebook and, obviously, am blogging for the "world" to read. I'm used to saying things like "when I fit into the rest of my wardrobe..." or "I'm trying to eat better." Sometimes I'll publicly deliberate between a salad and a cheeseburger. I'll complain or commiserate with girlfriends and throw a number out there - "there's just this extra 20 pounds..." but this week has seen the new, honest, vulnerable (and reckless) Amy. "I'm going to lose 15 pounds in 2 months," I've heard myself blurt out to anyone within earshot. It's an approximation, but girlfriends, their husbands, family, and everyone on the internet is now privy to my struggle. The immediate follow-up question, I

I did learn a few things from my experiences as a Weight Watchers frequent drop out. For example, I learned to call this process "getting rid of weight," rather than "losing it." Because, you know, you don't want to find it again. I also learned to set manageable goals, to start easy and achievable. "This week, I will drink 8 glasses of water a day..." or "I will write down everything I eat..." The first goal that Weight Watchers thrusts upon everyone who walks in the door is to get to 10%. Forget the target goal weight for now, just focus on getting rid of 10% of your body weight. Usually, 10% is very close to my goal weight anyway. If I lose 10% of my weight, I will be hovering about 6 pounds over my "ideal weight." Ten percent will have me just outside the healthy BMI for my height. I cannot tell you how frustrating that is. Four years ago, during a period of intense stress, I found myself at my thinnest since high school, feelin

All good weight loss programs will encourage their participants to set a target date. My target date is usually "3 years ago." This probably has something to do with my chronic frustration. I want it off, and I want it off 3 years ago. Even if I have an arbitrary future date set, my reality is that this extra baggage shouldn't be here in the first place, so I shouldn't even be having this argument with myself, and having to spend time and effort getting rid of something that I never asked for in the first place goes against all of my efficiency instincts. People say weight loss is a journey that I have to take with myself. Starting a trip with someone you're mad at it is not an auspicious beginning. So this time, I am putting what's past behind me (technically it already is...behind me), giving myself and my extra 20 a great big hug and packing for a great trip. Destination: February 25. February 25 isn't as arbitrary as my usual target dates. We'll ju