I have been at the same weight now for weeks. And while I know I don’t have a weight problem – my doctor isn’t worried, I haven’t been told I need to lose weight, I don’t have high cholesterol – I want to lose weight.
Last week, Sarah wrote a post that had me thinking. It was inspired by the fact that a few fellow bloggers kept disparaging themselves. (It’s more about her wonderful daughter; check it out if you have time.) Instead of thinking, “Everyone should learn how to love themselves just the way they are!” I was thinking something entirely different. If we are indeed unhappy with the way we look
– our double chins, our extra fat rolls – why not change it? Instead of pointing out how unhappy we are about it, or tormenting ourselves for it, why not simply change it?
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
I want to change it. I don’t want to make any more excuses about my arms, my belly, or my chin. I simply want to change it. I want to disarm myself (pun intended), and take away all personal ammunition. And I am certain it’s going to be difficult. And I’m certain it’s going to be frustrating, but I also know that losing weight and feeling good about it is one of the best highs there is.
So, that’s my goal. But here’s the catch. I have hit a plateau. I read about the famous plateau. The last time I dieted (before being kicked off the wagon by one famous chef named Nico) I didn’t hit the plateau. At least, I didn’t notice it. This time, I fear that I have. And I know that the experts say it’s completely normal and temporary, but it is discouraging.
I have been following (at times an albeit a sloppy) version of the South Beach Diet for months now. After the initial extreme dieting phase, which I stayed on for nearly a month and lost 8 pounds, I hit a plateau. I have cheated here and there. I still don’t munch on white bread. I eat whole grains. I skip the rice. I skip the beer. And I skip the crackers, chips and honey roasted peanuts. I never, ever visit the vending machine at work. The good news is I don’t get heartburn anymore. That’s one awesome side-affect. But my weight isn’t moving south much anymore.
I have cheated. There were the mozzarella sticks (deep fried) I had while visiting the American Museum of Natural History. Oh, and there was that mini muffin I had at brunch. (Holy crap was that miniature muffin good. How they make something so small taste so large is beyond me. I am ( )close to becoming a mini muffin serial killer.)
I cheated last week and ordered a pizza and then on Monday, we ordered bean burritos from Bean! (Which I was kind of annoyed with because they forgot the large request for guacamole. And who in their right mind can eat ANYTHING Mexican without guacamole?) Oh, and I scarfed down about a cup of garlic mashed from Dumont as well. (You would have too. Don’t frown. Those things tastes like creamy mashed sex on a plate.)
OK, so maybe I have been cheating a little bit more than I would have liked. (It helps to write it down. Wow.) But I don’t eat candy. I no longer have sandwiches for lunch. I’ve been good! Or at least I think that I’ve been good. Everyone knows that booze holds a lot of calories. But besides a few glasses of wine over the weekend, I haven’t even been drinking much either.
I want higher rewards, you know? I want higher rewards like you’ve seen in the Citibank commercials. I feel as though I’ve been investing a lot of time and energy and I’m not getting much in return.
Arthur Agatston wrote that once you hit phase 3 (phase 2 if you’re not obese) the weight loss slows down substantially. What if I don’t want it to? Can I protest this plateau?
I’m writing today to find out any tricks of the trade. I’m also about to finally pull the trigger on the five-dollar weekly membership fee over on the South Beach Web site. Maybe I just need a support group. Maybe I need someone to kick my ass every time I want to eat a slice of pizza. Maybe I need to get by with a little help from my friends. Oh, I’ll get high with a little help from my friends. Who’s with me?