Tuesday, May 31, 2016

If Your Pants Don't Fit...

I tried to think of something clever there, ala the OJ Simpson trial, but my brain is not functioning today as I did not get to workout this morning, thus could not drink any pre pre, and am currently off the soda hooch...

But it could have been:

If your Pants don't fit, you gotta quit [eating]


If Your Pants don't fit, you gotta diet a bit


If you pants don't fit, f@ck em.  Pants are stupid anyways.

But about two months ago my pants were on the verge of splitting. You know, your coot coot can barely breath...you take your pants off but they leave a sexy indentation where the waist line was squeezing your muffin batter...the are a little high water like because they have had to use the material in them to cover your girth and thus...don't hang as low as they used to.

That kind of pants tight.

So I needed some help and I scheduled an appointment with my primary care doctor.

I was going to have to go in a beg for a round of phentermine.

It has been about two years since I had my last round of the magical drug that suppresses my appetite. If you don't remember that experience, it was honestly the first time in my life that I didn't think about food non-stop.  That effect only really lasts in it's full glory for about 3-4 weeks, but while it lasts, it's SO helpful to get back on track.

My doctor doesn't like prescribing it though because she believes it is a short fix (truth) and that good old diet and exercise should do the trick (if only it was that easy).

SO our conversation went something like this.

Doc: Why are you here today?

Me: Um.  Well.  Yes.  I would like a refill on my phentermine.  I have gained about 30 pounds and need help getting back on track.

Doc:  Well, it doesn't seem to KEEP you on track does it?

Me: No

Doc: So what WILL keep you on track?

Me:  Hell if I know.  I had weight loss surgery and still struggle.  I think it is something I will have to fight every day for the rest of my life.

Doc: I will give you two months.

So there.  I won.  And she is right.  It is a short fix.  But it does help me and it gives me hope and it motivates me to do better.

So I went to the doctor that day at 197.4 (the doctors 1965 slide scale actually was at 200 but the sweet nurse took some pounds off for my clothing), and I weighed in yesterday at 177.4.

20 pounds down.

So what did I do besides the phentermine?  For the month of April I had two "give ups".  I gave up soda and alcohol.  And slap my butt and call me Besty, I made it.  We went "glamping" at the end of April and that was when I was going to allow myself beer again.
Here's me, sweet Honey Mae, the pups (look closely), Heather whizzing by, and Jon Jon (Rachel's husband), on the back porch of their tent.  

I upped my cardio just a little, I didn't cut back on weights at all, I tried to prepare my meals for lunch, and to have healthy snacks.

During the month of May, I decided to stick with the no soda, but allowed myself to drink in moderation.  I haven't had any fast food these last two months, but I still have had sweets from time to time, a little white bread if the situation called for it (hot dogs are so much better on white bread), and have eaten yummy meals.  I haven't felt like I was missing out.

My ultimate goal was to fit into all my pants again.  Because I had a habit of dieting and losing weight and going to buy new pants at my small weight and only maintaining my small weight for 1.2 milliseconds, there are some pants that may never fit me again.  But  for the most part, I have probably 7-10 pounds left to go until I am fitting fine in my britches.

Yesterday was my last dose of phentermine, so now the training wheels are off and I have to work on staying with healthier habits.  It's funny how it seems like "of course I'm not going back to getting a "snack" at Taco Bell before I go home to Heather and cook us dinner"...but I have said that before.  I don't know what changes in ones mindset to make us go either way...but I'm just going to try and stay the course.  

Keep fighting the good fight.

Love and kisses honey bees!