Singing for a smaller me

Just a quick one before I head off for the weekend.

Weekends are a notoriously tricky time. Either I'm ridiculously busy so I can't fit in time to make food/exercise/think/etc, or I'm ridiculously lazy and don't want to get off the couch. I've seen - first hand - the risks of setting the bar too high and expecting a perfect weekend for myself. On the other hand, I'm leery of setting the bar too low and expecting nothing of myself.

The key to success at any endeavour is taking it step by step, adding one or two things at a time, and slowly raising expectations. Yeah, I know I've said it time and again, and I've said it to other people too, problem is I can't seem to institute it myself.

With that in mind, I decided to set a few healthy living goals for this weekend to start the ball rolling. Very, very slowly.

Weekend Goals

1) 30 minutes of exercise, any kind of exercise.
2) Eat at least five servings of fruits and veggies each day.
3) Cook one healthy meal at home.

Not too difficult, I should think, and very achievable.

Is there anything you'd like to achieve this weekend?

Have a great weekend!!

Ever have one of those moments when you walk by something in the store and all you can think is "ohmigod, I want it. I want it, I want it, I want it!"? Who am I kidding? I'm sure we've all had them. In the past, that was usually something like chocolate. Or sour patch kids. Or pizza. Or ice cream. Or insert some other sugary/fatty/not good for you item here. Too often that was the case.

Today, I had one of those moments, but in such a way that I was glad to give in. Right before lunch (I know, not the best time to go to the store), I skedaddled over to the Safeway in Downtown San Jose to pick up spinach and salad greens for today's lunchtime tuna wrap (which was yum, I'll share the recipe later), and found myself in the fruit and vegetables aisle salivating over a Bosc pear. A pear! No, not over the chocolate dipping sauce for strawberries! I was salivating over a freaking pear!

Who is this person and what have you done with Zan???

No, really, it was a pear!

If there's anything that tells me I'm going in the right direction, that's it. Craving a pear. Heh.

But, seriously, you have to understand - before today - I've never bought a pear for myself. People have bought them for me or brought them to me, but never has this occured. Go figure.

Sadly, I had the last of my Moroccan Couscous salad as an accompaniment to my lunchtime tuna wrap (and Bosc Pear!!!). I can - without a shadow of a doubt - say, four days later, it was just as good as the first day. *happy dance*

In other happy news of how my life has changed fifty pounds later, someone (who I consider pretty athletic) asked me why I walk so fast. What?!?! Me walk fast? You're kidding me, right? But apparently I do. Wow.

And, finally, the Weigh-in. You know, it's funny, I was actually looking forward to my Weight Watchers meeting last night. After a few weeks of shuffling back and forth over the same pound I knew I had lost weight.

Week of 4/28/10 Stats

Starting Weight: 291.6

Previous Weight: 249.2 lbs
Current Weight: 248.0 lbs
Difference: -1.2 lbs

Total Weight Removed: -43.6 lbs
Total Percentage of Weight Removed: 14.9% (nearly 15%. W00t!!!)

Initially, I was disappointed because I really thought I had lost more, but - you know - I'm just happy getting deeper into the mid-240's. And before you know it, that's be the 230's. Here I go!!!!

For the longest time, I refused to watch the Biggest Loser. My argument was, and still is to some extent, that it sets up unrealistic expectations for larger people and losing weight. Seriously, who has time to work out six hours a day?!?! And these people work out longer than that. Seriously. They're at this secluded ranch in Southern California with no access to the internet, phones, and the only tv they might watch is what they brought with 'em. Yeah, I'd be working out six to ten hours a day too!

I decided it would be a laugh to watch this season all the way through. The first episode was exactly what I expected; I only made it through by keeping myself occupied folding laundry and knitting. I told the hubby that I didn't think I could watch another two hours of that crud, but still watched the second episode. It wasn't much better. Somehow, between Week Two and Week Three I got hooked. WTF?!?! I realized I cared about these people's lives and their journeys to lose weight. (Sure, they're living in a controlled environment where their only job is to lose weight and get fit, but I know I've secretly longed for that kind of opportunity.)

The show still has a lot of really bad moments. I hate the really bad ad placements by Jillian and Bob. Allison couldn't act her way out of a paper bag. The schloopy, droopy, "let's deal with your issues" segment are really annoying (because they always read so f'ing fake on tv). And I can't stand how the show is edited to make villains of some people, and show others as perfect angels (when they're really just as big of jerks).

Thing is, I've always been a sucker for makeover shows, and isn't Biggest Loser kind of the ultimate in makeover shows?

Now, my real issue is the show's weight loss expectations, which are totally ridiculous. Yes, I'd love to lose four pounds a week, but I also know that's not a healthy way or speed at which to lose weight, except in Doctor-supervised situations (guess what the Biggest Loser is??). What about the people who don't realize that? The people who expect to lose four - ten pounds a week? That's where the danger really lies.

At the same time, the show is quite motivational. Not in the "oh my god, I can work out ten hours a day too" kind of way either. It's motivational in that you watch these people who were/are morbidly obese embracing exercise and becoming athletes/athletic. The attitude is "it's possible". It inspires people to get up and get moving and start watching what they eat, which is something a lot of us don't know how to do.

Last night's episode the contestants went to Texas to bring the show's message to the masses. I've gotta admit there's this snarky part of me that thinks this is super, super stupid: "Let's bring the message to everyone," oooooo! "We're somehow gonna convince a whole bunch of people who refuse to admit what's staring them in the face that they need to get healthy!", "O. M. G., Texas has five of the top ten cities with the highest rates of obesity". On the other hand, reaching just one person with that message is a success. Via Dallas area radio stations, contestants invited the public to run/walk a 5K, and got quite a few people out of their homes and going on what appeared to be a very, very cold day.

Running a 5K is something I aspire to. There's this little place inside me, and maybe you, that's always watched athletes with a bit of jealousy, dreaming of being able to just run a mile. But running was always one of those "unobtainable" things. In school, when I couldn't do it, I'd say I wasn't built for running. Now, I know that was an excuse, and if I put my mind to it, I can do it.

There it is, in a nutshell, the Biggest Loser motivates me, and no one is more shocked than I. And I can't wait for makeover week next week!!!! Woo.

Rita from The Giggly Bits posted a picture of her amazingly organized refrigerator last week and, from first glance, the little OCD part of my brain was soooo jealous (yeah, I'm a labels facing the same way, can't sleep if they aren't kind-of-girl). It got me to thinking about my oft neglected refrigerator and how it's been too messy for too long!

A stumbling block in my quest to cook at home more often has been an inability to see what was on those refrigerator shelves. How can you figure out tomorrow night's dinner if you can't figure out what you already have?!? And I'm a champion of buying too much food with the intention of cooking every night. And forget about leftovers (except in rare cases); the only leftovers that are eaten in my house and the intended leftovers (i.e. my work lunches for the next three days).

Inspired by Rita's pictures, I resolved to clean up my fridge. Last night, after several days of planning and waiting for the garbage guys to empty our super small trash can, I set my plan into motion. Out came every piece of food, carton of whatever, plastic container of whatnot, and all was reviewed: expiration dates were checked, milk gingerly examined, leftovers hucked, and vegetables assessed. If it was questionable it was gone. And one and a half bags of trash later here's the result:

I cannot tell you how happy I am looking at this. Yeah, the lighting isn't the greatest, but I know just how clean it is. (and please don't judge me by our god awful linoleum)

And for your tasting pleasure, one of my new favorite recipes (and it's Meatless), Moroccan Couscous Salad:




Oh. My. God. This is too delicious. Had to stop myself from eating the whole batch that's how delicious this was. Yummmmmmmmy.

Moroccan Couscous Salad (adapted from WW Whole Wheat Couscous Salad Recipe)
POINTS® Value: 4
Preparation Time: 15-25 min
Cooking Time: 2 min

Ingredients
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp olive oil
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup Couscous, uncooked
15 oz Red Kidney Beans, drained and rinsed
2 medium Green Onions, chopped finely
1 1/2 cups Broccoli
1/4 tsp Crushed Red Pepper
1/4 tsp Cumin
1/3 cup Tomato Juice
1 Tbsp Red wine vinegar

Instructions
1. Combine 1/4 tsp salt, olive oil and water in a small saucepan and bring to a boil.
2. Stir in couscous and reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 2 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside, covered, for 10 minutes.
3. Uncover couscous, fluff with a fork and spoon into a serving bowl. Allow couscous to cool to room temperature.
4. When cool, add beans, scallion and broccoli to couscous. Toss gently but until fully combined.
5. In a small bowl, combine red pepper flakes, cumin, remaining salt and tomato juice; stir well. Stir in vinegar and a drop or two of olive oil. Pour over couscous salad and toss gently..

Yields approximately 4 1-cup servings.

Back before I met my wonderful hubby, I was a pretty unhappy person. Three messy break-ups over the course of three years destroyed my self esteem. I had a few friends, but not many and the person I'd considered my best friend turned around and stabbed me in the back a year beforehand (taking a number of our friends with her). I spent a lot of time convincing people I was happy while I was a right mess inside.

I was so desperate for attention, good, bad, it didn't really matter. And I went to some pretty self-destructive extremes to get it. I won't go into much detail because those are difficult memories, but it was purely luck that kept me from getting myself seriously hurt.

When I looked in the mirror I didn't see a person that deserved love and affection; I saw a fat, ugly woman that was fortunate to get any consideration from a man. I allowed myself to be used and hurt by people to whom I shouldn't have given a second thought, but felt they deserved it for paying me any mind.

When I sat down to eat, I didn't think about what I needed to fuel my body. If it made me feel good at that moment, that's what I ate - never mind I felt terrible afterwards.

At the same time I struggled to keep up a good front for the world. To my parents, to my peers, to my professors I was the perfect student, daughter, friend, and colleague. I carried a 3.8 - 4.0 GPA my junior year of college, I got involved in all kinds of activities, but I hated myself. I didn't date any of the men I went to school with because I was too involved with the jerks crushing my soul. I'd look at the girls around me - smiling, laughing, happy - and I'd want to be them because being me was so depressing.

I spent my life pretending I was anyone else but me. I'd traipse off to the renaissance faire to dress up, talk funny, and leave my life behind. There I allowed myself the leeway to feel just a little pretty, but couldn't get that owing people feeling out of my mind. Usually I felt a little better if I only knew their first name and they only knew mine - that way they couldn't find me later, but that didn't always work.

Over those years, however, there were rays of hope and love. I discovered I had friends that would stick with me through the hard times, people who would stop me from making very, very bad decisions, and comfort me when I made those choices. A lot of who I am now is because of those folks, and they helped me reach a place where I could start to be happy with myself again.

It took me several years after meeting my hubby to really come to terms with my past. No, it wasn't suddenly a magically magical life with rainbows and kittens and sunshine. We put a lot of hard work into the ten years of our relationship and had our ups and downs. The difference was I finally met someone who was worth the work, who appreciated and respected me, who saw the beautiful person I was even when I didn't see it, not someone who upon viewing with beer goggles wasn't entirely repellant.

And sometimes my past rears its ugly head telling me I don't deserve the happiness I have. It's the little devil on my shoulder that misses the freedom of those times. Isn't it crazy that I forget how much I disliked myself? Disliked how I felt all the time? But I just have to take a few moments to remember the tears, remember the soul aching pain, the heartbreak and the hurt to know I would never want to go back to that life.

I just have to keep repeating this to myself: I deserve to be happy and I am worth it.

www.nataliedee.comThis has been a week dominated by negativity. The hubby's frustrated cause he's working a ton of overtime. I'm frustrated with any number of things including: myself, auditioning, doctors, the world, fast food, and the list could go on and on. We just found out how many people are being laid off at work. I'm angry that I'm still on doctor's orders of nothing more than low intensity workouts. The scale isn't cooperating and although it showed a decent loss at the beginning of the week, it popped back up three pounds two days later. And, dammit, the world isn't cooperating with me. Grrr.

All that negative energy hasn't been doing my state of mind a whole lot of good, so I came to the decision today that I can't let it bother me anymore. Today is the day I start letting it all slide off my back. The scale went up a pound? Scales do that. I'm a woman with womanly parts which means scales make absolutely no sense even when you're following the plan perfectly. Taking the scale and throwing it at the wall will do me no good, and then I'll just have to buy another scale.

In honor of my new positive attitude, I'd like to share my Weigh-in results for the week:

This Week's Stats

Starting Weight: 291.6

Previous Weight: 250.0 lbs
Current Weight: 249.2 lbs
Difference: -0.8 lbs

Total Weight Removed: -42.4 lbs
Total Percentage of Weight Removed: 14.5%

So what if I been bouncing around the same two pounds for three weeks? So what if I gained a little last week? I'm still 42 and half pounds lighter than I was when I started back in October. That's huge! That's amazing! I'm going to do my happy dance until I believe it, and then I'm going to do it again.

Frustration happens, but I can't let it rule my life. If I do, every little bump on the road is insurmountable, every bend in the road is blocked, and every door that closes in my face will not open no matter what I do. Instead of looking at the bump as a mountain, I will find a way around or over it. If the road is blocked, I'll find another way to continue on. And if the door is closed, then I'll damn well break a window if that's what I have to do to succeed.

Everyone knows the opera stereotype - fat woman on stage, wearing horns and belting out Wagner - but that's a pretty common misconception. Did you know that opera singers are - on the whole - fairly average sized? That "big girls" are the exception, not the rule?

Being a successful "big girl" in opera means one of two things: 1) you have an exceptionally phenomenal voice, or 2) you grinded your way through a whole heck of a lot of cr*p. Number one being the more prevalent of reasons. If you're one of those girls not blessed with a phenomenal voice, you've discovered that you have to be twice as prepared, twice as good, act ten times better, and be the most professional person at an audition to even get considered for a part. If the average girl gets one of twenty parts, you might get one of fifty. And you still come up against people who won't even consider you because they simply will not cast a fat person (unless it's a man).
M is a music director in the local opera and operetta scene. He's pretty much everywhere, and well known for refusing to cast bigger people in larger, leading roles. He prefers them young, perky and pretty. As a matter of fact, he's infamous for casting a fourteen year old as Mabel in a Community Operetta Production of Pirates of Penzance who didn't have the stamina or range necessary for the part (and despite there being five other sopranos who could easily sing it) because she looked the part. And - like I said - he's EVERYWHERE.

This is what I have to contend with.

Back in college, I thought singing opera meant I didn't have to worry about my weight. Boy, was I wrong. Every audition is a battle to prove I can transcend ideas of size and show them I can be anything I want. Every audition is an exercise in frustration when I discover that some other girl (who wasn't as good as me) was cast because she "looked" the part. Every audition is that much more upsetting because it means another year without work or adding anything to my resume.

I'm done with exercises in futility.

I'm done with watching other girls get cast over me because some director couldn't get his head around me playing a romantic lead.

I'm done with having to be twice as good to just get considered for a part.

It's just one of the reasons I need to lose this weight. Music, theatre, and acting are a part of my soul. I love being on stage and singing a beautiful piece of music. I love being someone who can help people forget about the world for a few hours, and the magic that happens on stage when the lights dim. These are things I need, and if getting rid of this weight means I can keep on doing it then that's what I going to do.

Opera Singer [EXCLUSIVE] - Free Clip Art at FunDraw.com

Went to the grocery store not too long ago to pick a few essentials and something for lunch. If you know me, you know my favorite frozen meal for lunch is the Lean Cuisine Butternut Squash Ravioli (which is mmm, mmm, yummy). After browsing the frozens for a short time, I noticed a meal I'd never seen, Healthy Choice Pumpkin Squash Ravioli, and it intrigued me so into the basket it went.

Getting back to work I was eager to try it out, and hopeful I would find another tasty, delicious vegetarian meal to add into the Meatless Monday rotation that wasn't 500 calories with 25 grams of fat and stuffed with cheese. After following instructions eerily similar to that of my favorite frozen meal (which only increased my anticipation), I opened it up, took a bite and thought "YUCK!" It was disgusting. But being open minded I kept on eating, hoping it might grow on me. It didn't.

Description from the box:
Ravioli stuffed with tender pumpkin and combined with crisp asparagus, sweet butternut squash, and juicy Granny Smith apples, topped with a butter-sage sauce.

First Impressions:
It looked pretty freaking boring and brown. Eeeeeeewww.

The raviolis:
Tasty, little on the too sweet side. Eh.

The vegetables and apples:
Asparagus - delish. Butternut squash - overcooked and squishy. Eeeeewww. Apples - ick - tasted like an afterthought.

The sauce:
Tasted like dirty feet. Eeeeewww.

Sad to say, this dish made its way into the trash half eaten. I don't want to waste good points on bad food.

For a more in-depth and intellectual review than my "eeeeewwws", "icks" and "ehs" I'd direct you to Iateapie.net. She puts my thoughts into words so much better than I can, and even acknowledges that some people find this disgusting meal appetizing.

I'm going to go find something to wash my mouth out now.

As of yesterday, it was two weeks since I'd stepped foot in a Weight Watchers meeting.

What's this, you say? The girl who refuses to skip a weigh-in even if she knows her weight will be up didn't go to meetings twice in a row??? Say it ain't so!

Sadly, it's true.

I've been trying to decide if I was just making excuses for not going to meetings or if I genuinely couldn't go. Last week, I was sick and reasoned I probably shouldn't go and spread the love (germs) (and loopiness and driving don't exactly go hand in hand). This week, the hubby and I had tickets to Game One of the Stanley Cup Playoffs Wednesday Night (Colorado Avalanche vs. San Jose Sharks). I thought "hey, I'll run up to the meeting early, get weighed in, and head to the game" (which is not what happened).

Then came the negotiations with myself: "Oh, I'll just go next week", "I can go on Saturday", "I can stay on track without meetings", and so on and so forth.

Those thought processes struck a cord with their familiarity and I panicked: is this the start back down that well-worn path to giving up? Was I on a precipice barely hanging on to my self control? How many times had "the end" started with "breaks" from meetings? How often had I stopped tracking and gained and lost the same three pounds over the weeks following one of those "breaks"? Would I let the exercise go and continue to gain and lose those pounds? Would I finally just stop going?

My mind was screaming at me: Go to a meeting! Go to a meeting! Go to a meeting! And I was inclined to follow its advice except for this irrational feeling of cheating on *my* leader by even contemplating attending another meeting.

Fear and distress won out and prompted me to pull up the WW app on my iPhone yesterday to search for a meeting that night. It wasn't at my usual location or the location Luann (my leader) meets, but I had to get past that crazy feeling of betrayal. At 5:45 I found myself travelling to a strange location for a meeting with some unknown leader because I was desperate to get on that scale and face whatever number awaited me. The moment I walked in that almost familiar meeting room, it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. And getting on the scale wasn't as painful as I feared it might be - yes, there was a slight gain, but less than I feared.

I never fully understood how people could spend months searching for a good group leader until yesterday, and realize how lucky I was to walk into the perfect meeting for me back in October. The feeling in that other room was so strange - the meeting was sort of the same, but all wrong. Not that Michelle, their leader wasn't great, and the group seemed to really like her, but she wasn't Luann.

I'll be really happy to get back to my meetings next week, and back into the groove of going to weekly meetings.

I've spent the better part of the past 24 hours wearing this little beauty:

And running around like I was just disconnected from the Borg Collective:




It's a device called a Holter Monitor which you wear for 24 hours to help work up your heart profile. Do you know what it's like trying to put a bra on around one of these things? Anyone remember that game cat's cradle? It's similar to that. And the pads are irritating,I inevitably wind up scratching at them and pulling on the cords which I'm not supposed to do. Then, I didn't get to shower, had to sleep on my back as much as possible (yep, I'm a stomach sleeper), couldn't use my hair dryer or straightening iron, and had to log my symptoms (of which I had a sum total of one while I was *singing*).

All in the name of figuring out what the he** is up with this freaking arrhythmia.

The plus side: I'm at T minus 4 hours till it comes off, and freaking thrilled. Never again do I want to have to do this. If there was ever a wake-up call, this is it. Forty pounds gone makes a difference, but not enough of one. I've still got a hundred to go, and I'm ready for it.

In other happy news, the hubby and I are off to see Game One of Series of A of the Stanley Cup Playoffs tonight (San Jose sharks vs. Colorado Avalanche). Been a while since I've been to a game and I can't wait to see how much better I fit in the seats. Go Sharks!!!

Last week was not good, and I'm not talking about in the food sense here. It was an emotionally draining, up-and-down rollercoaster kind of week. Starting with Saturday evening after the hubby's b-day party where - apparently - some gf/bf breaking up happened (and don't get me started about how rude it is to break-up with your S.O. at someone's birthday party), I stayed up too late, woke up Sunday with a sore throat and it was all down hill from there. I spent a good three days pretending I wasn't sick before I gave up the ghost.

Besides that whole being sick thing, I just wasn't feeling good in that "my heart feels like it's going to beat of my chest" palpitating kind of way. Made an appointment for the Doctor, got an EKG, and surprise of surprise: I have a freaking arrhythmia. Time for more tests! Had a mess of blood work done, treadmill stress test the next day, and off to the doctor later today for a 24 hour heart monitor dealymabob. Add in a whole list of don't's from the doctor including: no high or moderate intensity exercise, nix the caffeine, stay emotionally stable (!!!).

It really set me off, and I spent a lot of time saying "what the hell's the point of losing 40+ lbs if my health problems are just getting worse?!?!" and hating myself and crying and lying in bed with the blankets pulled over my head.

So, I disappeared. I didn't read any blogs, I didn't write anything, I didn't reach out for help or a shoulder to cry on (although my best friend and my husband were there), and I hid. Which is what I do when I'm depressed.

I didn't try to find the silver lining staring me in the face. My resting heart rate has gone down over twenty beats a minute when not on medication - I might actually be able to get off meds entirely when I lose all this weight! My cholesterol levels have gone down almost 60 points without medication, and all my cholesterol levels are in the "desirable" range! The techs found no signs of Coronary Artery Disease on the treadmill stress test!

I finally got out of bed Sunday (after being sick for five days on top of all that!), reprioritized, and realized I can't live my life in fear of tomorrow. Today, I'm doing exactly what I need to do in order to become a healthier person, and I'm kicking this obesity problem's a**.

Still haven't quite made it past the whole crying every couple of hours thing, but I'm getting better, and I'm feeling better. Every day is a gift and I'm looking forward to tomorrow

1. Wake up at 5:30 a.m. in the morning to workout. Although this is not a regular occurrence, it does happen from time to time. Like this morning!! For some nutso reason I woke up at 5 a.m. Instead of staying in bed I threw on my workout togs, pulled my hair back, and got in a thirty minute high intensity workout.




2. Receive a box of See's Candy truffles, eat one, and tell the hubby he can have the rest cause they were too sweet. WTFBBQ?!?!?! I love chocolate. I love chocolate from See's. I love chocolate truffles from See's. Who is this person and what have you done with Suzanne?


3. Eat Broccoli instead of Cake. Yes, you read that correctly. There was a going-away party for the "food pusher" in my office (I'll miss you food pusher, and your cakes and cookies and candies too!!!) as she moves on to bigger and better things. Number one, I convinced the organizers to have an option besides enchiladas (and all their chewy, cheesy goodness) because some of us won't eat them. Number two, I steamed broccoli instead of eating the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sugar flowers because I had cake the night before and was going out to dinner with the hubby for his birthday.


4. Eat salad at a pizza restaurant. The hubby decided he wanted to go to his favorite pizza restaurant for his birthday dinner (and it was really sweet too! He kept asking if that was okay or if I wanted to go somewhere else. Awww!). We order his favorite pizza and I get a large salad plate with two slices of pizza. And I was satisfied!


5. Take an entire meal to drink one small glass of cherry pepsi. I gave up drinking soda a long time ago, leaving it in its proper place as an occasional treat. So here I am with my little eight or ten ounce glass of cherry pepsi (which I used to drink by the 2 liter), and I sip on it a little bit throughout the hour or so we're there for dinner. No refills! Holy carp!

Wow. Double wow. This really is me. I really am changing.