I get it now!

It's about fat loss, not weight loss! I understand what this means, now! And if you watch this video, you will too. (Thank you, Nurse Cindy!)

Fat burning machine, or just fat?

I've been eating low-carb for nearly a month, now. About two weeks in, I decided we weren't doing Atkins, we were doing the Keto Diet--it made it easier to find recipes and stuff.

So far, I've lost a whopping two pounds. I am not surprised. Traditionally, I don't lose weight. I am not one of those people. I follow the diet to the letter and typically, I gain weight...I am doomed to be short and round for the rest of my life.

BUT--I have to say--I feel better than I have in a long time on this diet. I'm not hungry. I'm eating good, whole food and nothing processed (except bacon. Because if the diet says I can eat bacon, I'm eating bacon! Who wouldn't??).

I've been going to the gym and riding the bike for thirty minutes a few days a week. But I'm going to switch over to doing the circuit. Apparently, lifting weights is better on the Keto diet. Then again, you're supposed to become a fat-burning machine (!!!) on this diet, and the weight is supposed to FLY off your body at a rapid rate...and I've only lost two pounds.  So, who knows?

It's entirely possible I'm not eating enough. Since having anemia, I tend to forget to eat, and now that I'm not eating sugar and am not hungry or craving all the time, I [i]really[/i] forget to eat. Which is kind of funny, if you think about it. If there was a worldwide food shortage and we had absolutely no food, I'd probably still manage to gain weight. Then starving people would chase me down, kill me and eat me. Because I'd be full of fatty deliciousness, I guess. Probably taste like bacon.

Has anyone else tried this diet? There's a zon of research out there that shows it's actually better for you than other diets, and is used by cancer patients as well as people with epilepsy and diabetes; it's even been tested as an Alzeheimers preventative because it "feeds the brain".

(Aha. That's why I'm not losing weight. My brain's getting bigger.)

Goals for May:

Start lifting weights 3 times a week in the circuit.

Keep on eating keto!

Hope to lose another few pounds.

No weight lost. I am doomed

I'm following this stupid diet to the letter and I haven't lost a pound.

I will keep on with it--at least I'm eating lots of veggies and no sugar, which is a good thing. But

still...what the heck, body? Why do you hate me so? 😒




I'm starting at Planet Fitness today. I fully expect to gain another ten pounds because of this...

I collect dust bunnies AND fat.

Real Writers don't diet, they just whine.

Day Two of the fabulous no carb adventure.

To be honest, I'm a little disappointed. I expected to feel more deprived. But then, sugary things aren't usually high up on my priority list of nom-noms, and I'm really sick of pasta. I haven't been eating much bread lately (in spite of living behind a wonderful Italian bakery where you can smell the yeasty warm numminess baking night and day).

We'll see. I am a bit more cranky today. My inner meat eater is emerging.

When I weighed myself this morning, I noticed I'd already dropped two pounds. Water weight, of course. Still, any downward motion is a positive. By the way, since no one reads my blog anyway, I'll put my starting weight here: 239.5 lbs.

Yeah, I'm a bit thick. 😞

Anyhow, I figured this was a good place to put my progress. If I don't blog, I suppose, it's because I'm failing.

Another success: 2000 words written yesterday for Santa Maybe. I got past the mid-point! Hurray! Now to make my carefully crafted journey into luv fall apart for the dark night of the soul...bwhahahahaha.

Real writers collect fat as well as dust--we don't leave our chairs!

Starting a new diet is like starting a new blog.

Bleh.

You have hopes, you have dreams, you have ambition and especially, motivation. But you're not sure if you have the stick-to-it-iveness. (What a horrible word.)

Last year, it was Weight Watchers. And exercise. I lost thirty pounds in five months.

Brussel Sprouts (tiny cabbages!)

This year, after gaining those pounds back, I've decided to go low-carb. In part, because it's fairly easy for a savory tastebudded person like me to do. And, it's because I know that once I get over the hump of craving sugar and processed foods, it will work pretty well for me IF I plan my meals and stock my pantry. One problem I've had over the past year--and it's one I've never had before--is forgetting to eat.


What the hell, right? I mean...who forgets to eat?

It all started when I became anemic and napped all day. Eating, and procuring food, just weren't important. Not eating became a habit, and until I reached the "hangry" state, when all of a sudden I was ready to kill someone, that I realized I was hungry and should eat something. Whatever I ate, however, caused guilt. This, in turn, made me want to not eat (as opposed to forgetting to eat), but by the end of the day, I was famished and then--I stuffed my face with all kinds of fast crap that wasn't completely planned.

I say "not completely" because usually I'd text husband to pick up a snack on the way home from work. A snack like...Cheetos! The crunchy kind. Or french fries. Or...crackers and cheese!

Roasted red peppers

Writing this, I can see that a lot of my problem has to do with lack of planning. And a desire not to have to look up the point value/calorie count of every item I eat while I stuff my face. Going low carb should resolve that problem. I won't have to think about anything as I eat, because I'll have the right foods at hand (I will stock up on the right foods!). Rotisserie chicken, veggies, hot dogs (those are fast and low carb), nuts. We've always liked roasted veggies for a snack--now we'll just roast the non-root veggies and have those at night. Cheese without crackers. That kind of thing.

Anyhow...it's day one. I've got over a hundred pounds to lose...wish me luck. If I don't do this, I'm afraid I might die. Hopefully, my heart won't explode. It seems counter-intuitive to enjoy meats, hard cheeses and things like butter and eggs. I grew up in the non-fat era. Fat was bad. It's hard to believe that fat might be good.

My fat is bad, that's for sure. I have no choice but to do this thing.

I should write a book!

You have no idea how many people, when they find out I'm a writer, tell me, "I should write my life story. That's a book right there."

Honestly...I'd have to say it's most of them.

I smile, and nod, and say, "I'll bet," but inside I'm thinking, why don't you, and everyone's life is a story, you know and, sadly, oh my gosh, another one who thinks they're so interesting everyone else would want to know all about it.

Although I only think that when I'm feeling cranky or depressed. Because really--yes--everyone's life has the potential to be interesting. They don't even have to be famous people, or have done anything unusual. Think about the diaries kept by pioneer women as their families made their way across the country, a few centuries or so ago. Or letters kept by men and women during world wars. Or even blogs, like this. Fascinating stuff, the bits and pieces of one's daily life, for future generations.

One thing I really enjoy reading is gravestone markers and obituaries. Now don't go all oogy on me; there's some awesome stuff there. Some stones themselves are works of art; especially in cemeteries from the Victorian era. (In fact, I think I'll do some picture taking and story finding in future blog posts...maybe this fall. I love walking through cemeteries when there are bright yellow and red leaves crunching underfoot and the air smells crisp and full of change. So stay tuned for that.) And in some colonial-era cemeteries, there are poems, Bible verses, and even telling pieces of the owner's life story carved into the stones. Lost at sea is a common one here in Rhode Island. There's one stone in Cumberland that tells about the person's last moments, drowning in a mill pond. Things like that make me think of those left behind, mourning, wishing to hold onto a piece of their loved one by telling their story, showing their significance, and how much they were loved.I think I'm going to use this when I decide to write "the big book". Kinda sorta. I'll change things, of course, but the idea of it is just delicious. Imagine being either woman and NOT knowing about the other? Talk about a twist in your life's journey. 

At any rate, I think this is why I was particularly intrigued by the following story. You'll have to click on the URL for the details, but it caused a story to start spinning. http://www.littlethings.com/two-obituaries-leroy-blast-bill/?utm_source=shemarm&utm_medium=Facebook&utm_campaign=obits

I hate starting blogs.

Actually, blogging in general isn't my favorite thing to do, either.

In part, that's because no one reads my blogs. Except me. And that's probably a good thing because in the end, it makes me realize several things:

1) I'm not as important as I think I am

2) No one else is as important as they think they are

3) It probably doesn't matter how clean my house is, because no one ever comes over, anyway

If you've been paying attention, you might be wondering how number three fits into the other two. Let me explain.

My husband (of twenty-three years) is a neat freak. Like, anal about neatness. I, on the other hand, enjoy a neat (and even clean!) home, but am not about to go ballistic if a dust bunny rolls out from under the bureau and attacks my foot.

Instead, I'll vacuum the crap out of out it and call it a day. But whether the dust bunny expires at my hand or my husband's, the point is--no one cares about either my blog or how clean my house is, except me. And my husband, who is convinced that I should be worried about how clean the house is because it's my job (or so he says) to take care of it. It should matter to me, he thinks, because someone important might drop in and demand my hospitality at any moment. Which is ludicrous.

I don't know anyone important.

But let's say I did. Let's say my someone important was, like, the Pope. Because...well, he's pretty important. Here is a picture of what Bill probably imagines he'd do when he popped into our home:

The dust bunnies. The dust bunnnnnnnniiiies! O-di!

Serves him right, in my opinion. Who pops into anyone's house without calling ahead? That's just bad manners. And if you're going to pop in, you get what you deserve.

This makes me realize something else: There are two types of people in the world--those who think someone important, like the Pope, is going to drop in any minute (and therefore, the fate of the universe depends on the state of dust bunnies in one's home) OR those who really don't give two toots about the state of the dust bunnies (but who can, in a pinch, conquer them without a lot of fanfare and holler.)

So this leads me to another realization: There is a third type of person in the world: my neighbor, Steve, who hoards things to sell at yard sales and flea markets, and who doesn't care who pops in because he loves his boxes and piles of crap. Personally, I think the Pope and anyone else would probably clutch their throats in horror at what they might find in a house like Steve's, whether they called ahead of time or not.

Here is a photo of something Steve couldn't sell at either a flea market or a yard sale, so he left it out on the curb for whoever might want it. (Probably not the Pope):

Please pick up after your futon.

Personally, on the great scale of clean, I'm the zero. Rather, the norm. You know, because I clean when I need to, and don't clean when I'm doing something else--like writing. Or, in this case, blogging.

I'm not sure where Steve lies on Great Scale of Clean. It's possible he fell off of it, completely. At any rate, welcome to my blog. It's messy. But at least, it's never boring. Not that it matters--because no one will visit anyway. Not even the Pope.

Oy-vay.