The conflict is this: I like my body at my current weight, but WW says I need to lose five (err... seven now) more pounds to reach my ideal goal weight. I literally have been struggling to lose these last pounds since July. Look at my track record the last seven weeks: September 28, down 2.2; October 5, up 2.2; October 12, down 2.8; October 19, up 1.8; October 26, down 2.8; November 2, down 1.0, November 9, up 2.0. Seriously?? When my leader asked what I did differently this week and I answered "exercise" her countenance was equal to mine... disbelief. Yet she could offer me no explanation or consolation.
What disturbs me is this idea of a magic number. My leader herself related a story to me about how she struggled to lose "just five more pounds" and that no matter active she was or how well she ate, it just wouldn't go. She told me that her mother offered advice in that "your body knows best" and that she should just stop fighting it and accept her body's notion of her ideal. I visited a plethora of web sites tonight looking for evidence to support my claim that I am "just right" right where I am, to no avail. Every site I encountered said the exact same as WW (or less!) for an ideal weight for my height, age, and gender. And every BMI calculator I came across told me that I am still "overweight." Drats.
I seriously considered stopping the fight and quitting WW altogether tonight. I can't do that at this point, however, because I still need the comradeship and accountability that the meetings offer me. How do I know? Because the first thing I wanted to do after weigh-in tonight was eat: Dairy Queen, Pizza Hut, hotdogs and macaroni-n-cheese... I wanted it all. That's why I can't quit yet. Not until I can handle the stresses of life without turning to food first. ((And not until I reach Lifetime Membership. Who knew I would be so motivated by gold stars and charms?)) I didn't go to DQ; instead, I sat in the truck and had a good cry. Then I headed to face my family with my less-then-desirable results.
I'm still searching for an explanation. I'd like to believe that "muscle weighs more than fat," but I'm fairly certain that a pound of muscle weighs a pound and that a pound of fat weighs a pound, as well. I'd like to believe that I didn't consume enough calories this week to make up for the increase in activity. The fresh lefse and s'mores at the cabin took care of that one, I'm sure. I'd like to believe that it was "water weight" or "stress" or even a "plateau," but I'm not sure how much truth there is behind those factors. What I do know is that I was honest with myself this week. I tracked my caloric intake fairly accurately (I always round up when in doubt), and I exercised my tush off, most nights staying up until midnight to get a good "sweat-dripping-off-my-nose" workout in.
To make an already too long philosophical contemplation short(er), I didn't binge too badly tonight. My sister-in-law's mini blueberry muffins were irresistible (and completely WORTH the calories) and went perfect with a fresh cup of coffee (even though she left me with NO creamer!!). I rounded out the night with a jog on the treadmill (week 2 of C25K) and a 20 minute yoga/pilates workout, just to spite the freakin' scale. I've decided, for now, anyway, to continue to do what makes my body feel good: eating well and being active. I'm going to give WW until my 34th birthday before I re-evaluate and decide to continue with the program or not. I'll keep you posted...
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