Trying to Get Back on the Wagon

Man… it has been a rough few weeks when it comes to my health/fitness.

My weight has continued to go up, week over week, and my sweets-cravings are through the roof. I am a STRESS eater and I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Candy has become my best friend …and the worst enemy of my waistline.

I’ve promised myself I won’t weigh-in until Friday, but I can tell you the scale and I did NOT have a pleasant interaction this morning. I worked out 5x last week, but I also indulged in tons of cookies and salty snacks – more than I could cancel out with even the most intense workout.

I’m hoping that one week of rigid discipline will get me back on track, so I’m going to post my calories/meal plan on here for accountability and to try to keep myself on track.

Here’s my food plan for the day:

2am: Quest Cookies and Cream Protein Bar (180 calories)

5:30am: Two OIKOS Plain, Fat Free Greek Yogurt Cups (160 calories)

9am: 100 Calorie BetterOats Oatmeal and 1 cup Blueberries (170 calories)

12pm: 2 cups raw spinach, 3 oz Oscar Mayer Rotisserie Chicken, 1 cup sliced carrot chips, Spicy Guacamole (224 calories)

3pm: Sugar Free Chocolate Muscle Milk (100 calories)

5:30pm: Natural Almonds Snack Pack (100 calories)

8pm: Grilled Chicken Breast and Stir-Fried Veggies (approx 280 calories)

By eating every few hours, I anticipate never feeling “out of control” with my hunger and I’m hoping to quell sweets cravings by snacking on fruit (blueberries) and chocolate protein shakes.

If I can stick to this diet all day (I’m good so far — as of my 9am meal), I will allow myself a 90-calorie Chocolate Pear Squeeze Treat (sooooo good). If I hit the gym (as planned) and do at least 30 minutes of cardio, I’ll swap out the Chocolate Pear Squeeze Treat for one of the 150-calorie Paleo Brownies I made last week. 🙂

It’s all about compromise, preparation, and holding myself accountable this week. Wish me luck!

Bon appetit, my friends!

~ Tori

 

Down Day

I don’t like what I see in the mirror today.

I’m frustrated. Frustrated with my body, frustrated with my will power, frustrated with me (on every level).

I kill myself at the gym only to come home and eat junk food. I know better. I understand good nutrition and I eat healthy 90% of the time, but I find myself in a self-sabotaging mood almost every evening.

In the span of minutes, I undo all the work of my day. A bite here, a bite there, and I’ve cancelled out an intensive sweat session.

I’m angry. Angry at myself, angry at genetics. My mother is tiny. My father was tiny. I never once saw either enter a gym. I never once saw either count a calorie. They just were.

For the majority of my adult life, I’ve been aware. Aware of what I eat, aware of what I do (or don’t do), and aware of how I look. I’ve never just existed. I’ve been hyper-aware of food, of my body, and of the world’s perception of me for as long as I can remember.

I’m tired of being jealous of other people. Tired of being jealous watching someone eat something I deny myself, put on a pant size I can never hope to squeeze into. I’m tired of not being satisfied of where I am of, of where I’ve come from.

Will I ever love my body? Will I ever hit my “goal” if my goal is never static? Will I ever stop being jealous and start appreciating what I have?

Looking at myself in the mirror today, I think the answer is no.

Hoping for a better day tomorrow,

~ Tori

 

Physically Impossible? Not for me.

So, the trend of good Mondays has come to an end.

After nearly four weeks of intensive work at the gym and eating right, I managed to completely ruin/sabotage my success in just a few days.

CONGRATS TO ME!

You think I’m exaggerating, but let’s compare last Tuesday (8/20/2013) to this Monday (8/26/2013).

Last Tuesday, the scale read: 133.8.

I was so happy, I even took a picture of it:

Ah, sweet memories.

Ah, sweet memories.

It was a momentous occasion. I was officially lower than I had been since 5th grade.

This morning, the scale read 139.2.

The difference?

I still hit the gym five days last week. Each time, I burned no less than 400 calories, most days over 1,000 calories.

The only difference was that I cut myself slack on a few days with my diet. I let myself splurge and now I’m paying the consequences. I gave myself an inch and my f*cking weight took the whole damn mile.

Here’s the breakdown of my calories last week, care of MyFitnessPal.com. Let me know when you spot the downward trend:

Monday 8/19/2013:

Consumed: 1,227. Burned: 1,130

Consumed: 1,227.
Burned: 1,130

Tuesday 8/20/2013:

Consumed: 2,085 (bad!) Burned: 1,050 (at least it cancelled out)

Consumed: 2,085 (bad!)
Burned: 1,050 (at least it cancelled out)

Wednesday 8/21/2013:

Consumed: 1,822 Burned: 423 (Starting to notice a trend here? Yeaaah.)

Consumed: 1,822
Burned: 423
(Starting to notice a trend here? Yeaaah.)

Thursday 8/22/2013:

Consumed: 1,271 Burned: 1,051 (Am I back on the straight and narrow?! Redemption!)

Consumed: 1,271
Burned: 1,051
(Am I back on the straight and narrow?! Redemption!)

Friday 8/23/2013:

Consumed: 2,380 Burned: 851 (It's Friday. My only cheat day, I promise.... right?)

Consumed: 2,380
Burned: 851
(It’s Friday. My only cheat day, I promise…. right?)

Saturday 8/24/2013:

Consumed: 3,710 Burned: 67 (Oh, for fuck's sake. I literally consumed a pound of excess calories today.)

Consumed: 3,710
Burned: 67
(Oh, for fuck’s sake. I literally consumed a pound of excess calories today.)

Sunday 8/25/2013:

Consumed: 1,907 Burned: 91 (Might as well enjoy the morbid obesity.)

Consumed: 1,907
Burned: 91
(Might as well enjoy the morbid obesity.)

 

Yes, I was very bad last week. But, in doing the math, assuming I need 1,500 calories daily to MAINTAIN my weight and anything over that (that I don’t burn off) results in weight gain, how did I GAIN SIX POUNDS?!?!

Mathematically, it doesn’t make sense.

I consumed a total of 14,397 calories last week. (That just SOUNDS horrific).

Assuming 1,500 to live (and not factoring in my exercise) I should have not consumed more than 10,500. That puts me at a surplus of 3,897 calories – roughly a 1.5 pound weight gain if I round up.

However, adding in my burned calories, which was roughly 4,663 in total cardiovascular/strength exercises (not counting the normal day-to-day living stuff), I should STILL BE AT A DEFICIT for the week.

I should be at: -766 calories for the week net. I should have stayed around the same weight or even have lost an ounce or two.

BUT NO.

No, not my body. I’m up SIX GOD DAMN POUNDS.

I could punch something. I’m debating punching myself.

People often tease me for how regimented I am. For the fact that I count every calorie and obsess over what I put in my mouth. Do you SEE now why I have to do this?! Is this not proof? I allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted for 50% of last week – and still hit the gym hard five days in a row – and I’m up the weight of a god damn baby!

Is there a food baby in my lower intestine or something?! A beautiful, rosy-cheeked six pound LARD BABY rolling around in my duodenum?

UGHHHHHHH.

So angry. So frustrated. So ready to kick this week’s ass.

You thought I was hardcore before… watch me.

~ Tori

 

 

 

Vingt à Neuf (because everything sounds better in French)

So, another birthday has come and gone. It’s official. I’m 29.

I have entered the last and final year of my 20s.

Boy, that went fast.

I had just gotten into the groove of the 20s, feeling like I was coming into my own. Now, suddenly, I’ve gained sight of the bridge leading into my 30s. Whoa, slow your horses there, friend. I’ve only just set the cruise-control on my 20s and it’s already time to slow down, shift gears, and prepare for the ascent into those trichotomous digits? No, no, no. I’m not quite ready for that, thanks.

I’m 29 and I still feel like I’m 21. I’m a college student (for the second time), I drink more of my calories than I eat (whoops), and my weight is still yo-yo’ing more than it remains still. Shouldn’t I have better control of that on the brink of the triple-decade?

As you can probably guess, I did NOT hit my goal weight by my birthday. In fact, I packed on two pounds, bringing me back to 144.

Lovely.

I was 134.4 [my lowest since grade school] just before the holidays, and I’ve been spiraling out of control [OK, that’s slightly dramatic, but you know what I mean] since Christmas dinner.

Will my 29th year of life bring me some stability?

Will I suddenly, on the cusp of “true” adulthood, find balance in my diet, in my exercise, and in my body image? Or will I spend this last year of my 20s just as obsessive about food and numbers on a scale as I had for the decade prior?

I’d like to say that I am starting 29 with a renewed sense of self-worth and purpose, but really, I’m just starting it with a muffin top, a lingering hangover, and a wish for another piece of birthday cake.

Hmmmmmm.

Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow. Until then —

Bon appetit, my friends!

~ Tori