shemsheli

Restarted Wellbutrin at absolutely the minimum dose: 100 mg (max is 400) and that helped enormously. I gave up sugar except for weekly treats when out.

I reduced starches to the absolute minimum. For instance, sometimes I will melt cheese on rice or bread or tortillas, and even though the cultural message is that the carb is necessary to justify the cheese, I decided that was too easy for me to overdo. Instead I started to melt the cheese without the carb, and it was so much easier to be moderate. So I just ate 1-2 ounces of melted cheese alone with some spices added. It sounds unusual and I felt weird eating it in front of people, but it was satisfying and I did not want seconds. Sometimes I would eat it with an apple. Sometimes I would eat part of a corn tortilla afterwards, but I didn’t want even a whole one (a whole one is 60 calories). (Versus usually I would eat 2-3 tortillas.)

I made sure to eat hot food when I wanted something to eat. Melted cheese is unusual to eat, but more satisfying than cold cheese.

I exercised every day however possible, but didn’t go crazy with it. At least walking.

My weight has trended down, and I am now at the upper range of my usual weight range, about 8.5 pounds less than my peak in the late spring. I feel so good about fitting well into clothes. Now I want to lose another 8-13 pounds, but I don’t feel urgent about it.

After all this progress, I had a few challenges, some of which worked out.

1. Five days in advance of hosting a dinner, I bought ice cream. The next day I had just 1 spoonful. The day after, I had a bowl. The next day, another. After eating almost half the ice cream, I decided just to throw out the whole container. That’s a partial victory.

2. The day of the dinner, I bought another container of ice cream. This one stayed intact for the dinner and right after the dinner I gave it away to the new neighbors. SCORE!

Initially tried to give it to one of my guests because she was going to host something the next week, but she would not take it out of fear of temptation. I felt good to realize that I was not the only one tempted. Then several hours later, my (always thin) friend hanging out with me said he was glad I’d given away the ice cream b/c he would have wanted more and he was glad it wasn’t there anymore.

3. I baked brownies for a school potluck, but I came so late that everyone was almost done eating and I didn’t want to draw attention to my lateness by putting out my brownies. I thought about throwing them out right away, but instead I froze them for an event the following week. You see where this is going. The first day, I had just a little, the second day even more. By the fifth day, I had eaten more than half of them so just threw the rest out.

The lesson of the week is that as soon as I feel a little out of control, I need to throw out the food even if it’s a huge amount and perfectly good. As soon as I feel out of control, it’s waste or waist.

So now I am back to the usual state: no treats in the house.

I am going to try to rehab from sugar by eating a baked potato at night following the Potatoes, Not Prozac book’s suggestion.

Encouraging to read others’ commentary here about how they learn to listen more.

I realized I had to learn to listen better at a meeting yesterday. I was brought in to be the expert and most of the meeting, I was. Then at the end, I needed to ask advice about something that they knew better than I. She started answering my question, and I kept being tempted to interrupt her, and even interrupt in ways that would change the subject, and eventually I did interrupt. Not a disaster, but it would have gone better if I had just shut my trap and listened.

I started reading a book about how to have better conversations (Instant Persuasion by Laurie Puhn), and I realized that so many of the rules rely on having more control over what comes out of your mouth, a control that I am not as good at as I would like to be.

My extra 10 pounds are more easily shed than your prejudices – w4m

Yes, the extra 10 pounds does sit heavily on my just-over 5 foot frame. I still wear a size 6, at worst an 8, I’ve been exercising every day, and so far I’ve lost 7 pounds of the job-search moving-to-city-where-i-know-no-one living-in-suburbs plus-there’s-another-medical-explanation “15”. I’m happy with myself and my progress, and at this rate I’ll be done by fall and maybe even lighter than I’ve been in 4 years.

Way back after college I used to be heavier, wearing size 12 and technically just over the line to obese, and the reaction of men to a girl they think is too heavy for them is so unmistakable. Great conversation, even flirtation, and then not a second call. For fundamental differences, there’s a second and third date and even maybe a few weeks as people reasonably enough figure out whether their attraction was strong enough to overcome a difference in religion or personality. With weight, though, it’s unmistakable: fantastic rapport, everything goes well, everyone in the coffeeshop knows something fantastic is happening, and then nothing.

Nothing doesn’t always come out of the blue: sometimes there are desperate attempts to pretend it’s no longer a date. “How’s your experience on internet dating been?” he asks, as if we are just friends out to coffee. He apparently has already met everyone in town so is desperate for new dates. I offer my sympathies: I know how it is when you’ve lived in the same place for a long time, and it feels like you’ve dated everyone in town. Here I’m new and have no such problems: I have to keep track of my dates and their phone numbers on a stenographer’s pad.

Conversation exhausted, we walked along amiably. “Well, here’s my Prius,” he says. A trendy car is never just a car. “Great to meet! I had a good time,” I said, smiling enthusiastically, starting to walk away. I don’t want to assume anything, though really I’ve not been used to my enhanced weight and was assuming it had been a fantastic first date to be followed by a second.

“Wait.” He held open his arms. He hugged me and kissed my neck. That night I debated whether to send a short follow-up email. His great uncle, now 93, is an obscure figure my college friend was a huge fan of. This great uncle connection was a great excuse to speak with an old friend for the first time in years. I emailed a 2 sentence email to my date about his great uncle and my friend, ending with a rhetorical question that he didn’t even answer.

These extra 10 pounds sit heavily on my small frame, but they aren’t a permanent disability. After a few more months of daily exercise and being careful with food, I’ll be back in my size 4. Too bad your unwillingness to look past small flaws isn’t so easily lost. Especially since you say you find yourself having such a hard time finding dates.