As I keep tweeting about, I’ve been clothes shopping recently. While nothing explains the recent fetish for expensive high heels, the need for clothes is easy: nothing that I owned in August still fits me. That is because since August I have worked my ass off to lose 30 pounds. I was wearing size 12 (which was getting a little tight), and now I’m wearing mostly size 6 or 8.
Although I did pick up a size 4 skirt from J. Crew yesterday. I think J. Crew is my new best friend. I am so happy they’re opening a store in my town.
(Anthropologie hates me. It wants me to wear size 10. I’m not going to shop there for a few more pounds.)
I refuse to say simply “I lost weight.” Sorry, it didn’t just slip off somehow. I have worked very, very hard on this. I write down everything I eat and I work out 5 to 6 days a week: 3 days of weights, 2-3 days of aerobic exercise. I’m entering the penultimate hard part now—the last 10 pounds.
The ultimate hard part, of course, is maintenance. As everyone on 3fatchicks.com says, you treat maintenance exactly like you do losing weight, except you don’t get the fun of seeing the scale move. So I’m going to write down what I eat and what I weigh and do some kind of exercise every day from here on out.
Better than having to buy another wardrobe in double-digit sizes, that’s for sure.
Since August I have lost 2-3 minutes per mile off of my running time, which is one of the greatest incentives I’ve ever had to keep going with my exercise program. I want to lose that next 10-15 pounds to see if I can’t get another minute off. One of my big goals this year to run a single 8:00 mile. Doing more than one would be totally amazing. And may even be doable.
Sometime last summer—I can’t remember exactly when—I said, “This is not my body.” It wasn’t a mean thought or something I was using to castigate myself. It was like waking up and realizing I was in someone else’s body. For most of my twenties I was a 6 or 8. Then I went to grad school, gained weight, did the liquid diet, and went back to being a 6 or 8, which I was until I had Sophia. It took a long time after having Sophia to understand that I really, really, really was a size 12 and I needed to go shop on the Large rack rather than the Medium rack.
I looked back at the last time I lost weight, two years ago, when I thought it was due to the thyroid medications I’d started taking. I honestly didn’t think I had much to do with the weight loss at that time. What I discovered when I looked back at my records (I’m, shall we say, rather particular about keeping copious workout records) was that I hadn’t lost weight nearly as fast as I thought I had. I’d had the memory that it had just come off crazy fast, but in fact, it hadn’t. What else had I been doing two years ago? I was lifting weights all the time.
Hmmm. “I could do that again,” I thought.
I started in August, after the vacations and going to Chicago for my father-in-law’s birthday party. And I discovered pretty quickly that I couldn’t jump right into weights, at least not to the same degree I had before, because of my shoulder surgery in April. My favorite weightlifting exercise is doing squats, and I could barely raise my left arm to touch my fingertips to the bar, let alone grasp the bar for balance. I had to do the bar alone, with no weights on it, because it was all I could handle. The squat rack bar is 45 pounds but still.
After a couple of months, I had my hard firmly grasped on the bar, and I had 90 extra pounds on there. So in addition to improving my muscles, my arm was getting better in a hurry.
Weightlifting: best shoulder recovery tool EVER.
My original weights program, as it was a few years ago, was Body For Life. I’m not a huge proponent of BFL, mostly because it’s so heavy on the cult experience, as well as the supplements marketing, and I’m not a joiner by nature. But the program—do 5 sets for one body part, followed by a different exercise for the same body part—really is an excellent way to build up endurance and work those muscles. (Get the book from the library.) After several months of doing weights on my own I had improved my endurance and ability somewhat:
8/4 11/20 Squats 0, 5, 7.5 60, 70, 80 Leg Curls 25, 30, 35 50, 55, 60 Chest 8, 10, 12 60, 65, 70 Lats 15, 20, 22.5 75, 80, 85
I hired a Personal Trainer at Club Swanky. It’s expensive, but he is in fact kicking my ass.
(Actually, those squat numbers are somewhat misleading: after trying to do the squat rack for a week, I finally gave up and moved to the squat machine for a couple of months. After I felt strong enough to give it another try, I returned to the squat rack.)
I also kept up the running with my buds, even though I was often lagging far behind them. (One time I remember quite clearly getting dusted by them, stopping, and turning around to go home, because there was no way in hell I’d be able to keep up with them.) At the end of October I realized something had really changed, when we did the Silicon Valley Half Marathon. I realize now that probably what happened to me was the first and only time I’ve experienced “the runner’s high.” But that feeling of being able to go! go! go! was quite intoxicating. “Oooo,” I thought, “I wanna do this a lot.”
I’ve never had a run like that since, but I keep on trying. 3fatchicks has a “1000 miles in 2009” challenge, and I did 77 in January. If the weather were a little warmer, I’d definitely be doing more.
I really like wearing single digit pants. I want to wear more of them. At lower digits.
Of course, I had to learn about low-rise and mid-rise jeans, courtesy of my running bud Nina. I missed that whole development in jeans and was still wearing my high-rise “mom jeans.” Which I’ve always worn because I have such a long damn waist. However, now that I have moved into Gap Long and Lean jeans, I now understand a)people’s obsession with muffin top and b)the need for a belt. Because these things do not stay up without help. (At least, not with my figure they don’t.)
For those of you who might also have missed this development in jeans technology, please to consult “Are you wearing mom jeans?” for your edification.