Halfway There

So I have reached the halfway point of my weight loss goals and have now lost over 20 pounds! We are only at the midpoint and I still have 20 more pounds to go before I'm at my goal weight. So by no means am I done, although I am feeling mighty victorious. Losing 20 pounds was not as hard as I thought it would be - I didn't have to starve myself, I didn't have to eat 2 shakes and a healthy dinner, I didn't have to give up carbs and I didn't have to drink some weird lemonade. I just had to make better decisions about my food choices and work out more consistently. But again, I'm not there so I'm certainly not the spokesperson for weight loss (at least not yet!).

Is there an inverse of the expression: "every cloud has a silver lining"?

I can totally feel the weight loss. My clothes fit better (I'm down a size). I feel a little more comfortable about my appearance in pictures. I have more energy. But I can honestly say/write that I thought 20 pounds would be more dramatic. Which makes me think losing 20 more will not result in the dramatic change I have been anticipating. So though everything is good, it doesn't feel as good as I expected.

Now I didn't embark on this journey because I wanted a reaction from people or I wanted to enter "America's Next Top Model." I embarked on the journey because I was just tired of my weight preventing me from being the best me I can be. I also now want pass on healthy eating and physical activity habits to my son. And I want him to be proud of his mom.

I just wonder when you get to the point where you're satisfied with your appearance? Or maybe you don't ever get there . . . I guess I was hoping this whole journey has an end.

Missing You

I am so close to my 20 pound goal I can taste it . . . even if I didn't lose the .4 lbs I was supposed to lose this week to make it, I know I am very close . . . and now that we're halfway there I am thinking of all the things I have given up that I used to LOVE . . . so I thought I'd share . . .

1. Semifreddo's Cinnamon Twist Bread (at Trader Joe's or Whole Foods)

2. Safeway Select Strawberry Cheesecake Ice Cream

3. Ghiradelli Chocolates

4. Cheeseburgers & fries

5. Chicken sandwiches from Bakesale Betty's

6. A #6 from Wendy's

7. Powdered doughnuts

8. Taquitos

9. Hot Pastrami Sandwiches

10. Chicken McNuggets

Now I COULD eat these things. But I can tell you that I would not be able to each just one. And it's just not worth it.

Doesn't mean I don't want them though . . .

Consignment Incomplete

As you all know, I cleaned out my closet recently. I got rid of things that were a.) unflattering; b.) repetitive; c.) unworn. One of my friends suggested I try to sell some of the clothes. So during my purge I put the unworn or gently used stuff in one pile and the cheap, overused items in another. This weekend, I looked up a few consignment shops in my area, made a list of 4 that had good Yelp reviews and that accepted non-designer clothes (the most high end label in my closet is probably Ann Taylor). Then I put all my clothes in a suitcase and prepared to spend Saturday afternoon on a consignment quest.

My first destination was Crossroads Trading. When I arrived I was actually pretty impressed (I'll probably go back there to do some shopping - they've got a great shoe collection). I was super nervous and as I pushed the stroller with my son in one hand and lugged my suitcase of clothes in the other, across the street to the store, I hoped that they would at least buy enough clothes to pay for the cost of parking on College Avenue.

What I didn't expect was that they would not accept anything. Why? According to the clerk, in really her nicest voice (no sarcasm) my clothes were "out of date from what they were looking for." Now granted I can accept that considering a lot of items had been purchased in 2008 or earlier. And I certainly was no trendsetter in 2008. But it was so HUMILIATING. I mean I already knew I was fashionably-challenged. But that was the FINAL stamp of it.

I sent a text to my friend telling her about my humiliation. I told her I didn't even want to go to any other stores given my embarrassment - and the waste of parking and gas. She suggested I just donate the rest. And so I did. Including the suitcase.

Sign me up for one of those "What-Not-to-Wear-Oprah's-Big-Makeover-How-to-Look-Better-Naked" shows. Please. I'm serious.

Baseball, Jeans and Dreams

So yesterday my friend calls me at work and invites me to accompany him to a baseball game that evening. Seems his clients have a skybox at the Oakland Coliseum and there will be food and drinks and an awesome view of the field. My main concern was whether or not the train would be late getting me home - the game started at 7pm and I wasn't going to get back home until 7pm. It wasn't until I made it back home and saw how chilly it was in Oakland (as compared to the 90 degree weather in Sacramento) that I realized I had not been thinking of my real issue: what the hell do you wear to a baseball game if you're sitting in the skybox?

Usually, when I don't know what to wear, I wear a dress or a skirt. I find that usually works in almost any environment. And I usually look good in a dress or skirt. But considering the weather (and the fact that it WAS a baseball game), I didn't think any of my dresses would be appropriate. I sent out text messages to friends and posted a message on my Facebook page asking for advice. I didn't have a lot of time to try on a bunch of different outfits or run to the mall to get an A's jersey. Everyone pretty much said to wear jeans and layers or a cute top or a t-shirt. Now, that might sound easy to most people but my issue is: I have no flattering jeans.

I have always struggled with buying and wearing jeans. I think I have written in this blog before that I can never find a flattering, affordable pair. And last night, I realized that none of my jeans fit well. They're all loose and don't really do anything for my bottom half. It was then, as I awkwardly struggled into (what I thought) was the least offensive pair, that I vowed to buy another pair when I reached my first weight goal.

This morning in the shower, I realized I have not made my customary list of what I want to do when I reach my first weight goal (I'm thinking it'll be 20 pounds - which is halfway there). So I am thinking about it - I know I want to take pictures with my son, I want to buy some jeans, but I'm not sure what else. But I know I will be celebrating.

By the way, I am about 4 pounds away from my first goal . . .

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

There is nothing more motivating for your weight loss than compliments.

I mean there are other factors that should motivate me. There's the benefit to my health. There's the little sticker I get from Weight Watchers. There's the ability to fit, without gasping, into pre-pregnancy clothes.

But those all pale in comparison to one or two sincere compliments.

Chris Rock said it best: "Women need three things: food, water, and compliments."

I got two this week. It just felt really good for someone to acknowledge my hard work.

Sampson

It is with much shame that I am about to admit this . . . but I want to preface it first . . .

Like many Black women, I have hair issues. Being biracial and growing up with a white, rather no-nonsense mother, didn't really help. Though my sister and I always had a healthy crop of thick hair, I don't think either of us knew what to do with it between the 3 times a year that we went to the shop. It was really the blind leading the blind - we experimented with Pink Oil, water and every form of grease there was. And it RARELY looked good.

In college, I found salvation in the form of my sorhority sisters. They immediately took me in and said, "Well, we must do something about this hair." I couldn't afford regular visits to the beauty salon, nor did I have transportation to downtown San Diego to the shops when I did. So my prhophytes gave me perms in my kitchen and taught me how to wrap my hair. Those were good times . . . soon after college, I got a salary and a car and was cool . . . and my hair didn't impede me from too much . . .

Then about 3 years ago, after cutting my hair very short, I decided I would stop getting it chemically relaxed. I thought it might be damaging and frankly I was sick of the cost and the monthly burns. Now, my hair is completely natural (I still straighten it, but the perm has totally grown out) and now it is impeding me. And so I have to admit this . . . I will not exercise if I have just gotten my hair done.

That's pathetic, I know. But it's true. I spend 2 hours and $50 getting my hair straightened twice a month and now that I am perm-free, one drop of moisture COMPLETELY ruins it and renders that 2 hours and $50 completely meaningless.

Schools are now concerned about this - seems that some young Black girls are willing to FAIL their PE classes because they don't want to mess up their hair. This is VERY SAD. On the surface level, it seems REALLY stupid to choose your freakin hair over your health. And logically it IS. But last week, when I had the time and energy to work out but decided not to because I had just gotten my hair done, I realized just how PATHETIC it is as well as stupid . . .

Like many things I write in this blog, I don't know what the solution is (invest in better head wraps?). But it sure made me feel better to admit it . . .

Cleaning Out My Closet

About a year ago, I went to my coworker's 50th b-day party. She had on a fabulous dress, and I told her so. She said, "Yeah, I thought this is something that you would wear." I laughed - indeed, it WAS something I would totally wear.

About a month or two ago, a different coworker had on a dress that I also thought was fabulous. I told her I liked it and would totally wear it. She said, "I thought of you when I bought this - I knew you would like it." I laughed again because it was true - but this time I didn't laugh for as long.

Seems I have a style. And others notice.

This realization came to a head two weeks ago when I attempted to clean out my closet. I was motivated to do so because it disgusted me and I couldn't even walk in it. Meanwhile, I was lamenting every morning because I had nothing to wear. So I got online to my favorite website (Oprah.com) and found some tips for cleaning out your closet.

I started with this rack of dresses I had. As per Oprah's tips, I tried on every single dress I own. One after the other. By dress #5 I realized that I was trying on the same style dress. Sure, the length or the pattern or the fabric was different. But it was nonetheless the same dress.

I am so boring.

I have admitted in prior blog entries that I'm not super into fashion. I favor the functional over the bold. I was told once that my personality was FLAMBOYANT so I didn't need my clothes to be FLAMBOYANT too.

But for two separate people that I work with - and these are not people who I hang out with on a regular basis, mind you - to notice that I favor the same types of clothes and for every dress I own to be the same . . . I mean, that means I am officially BORING.

I commenced to cleaning my entire closet. I got rid of clothes that didn't fit unless I sucked in. I got rid of clothes that fit but were unflattering. I got rid of the multiple dresses I had in the same style. Now I am left with a bare bones closet of clothes that I actually wear and that seem to work for me. There were maybe 2-3 things I couldn't bear to get rid of because I know they will be useful one day (a formal dress that doesn't quite fit but that was expensive and I know is close to fitting, a work outfit that I really like that is a little tight over my still-nursing boobs, etc.). But for the most part my closet is EMPTY.

I will admit that the clothes I got rid of I technically didn't get rid of per se - they're still sitting in bags in my hallway. I don't think I am quite ready to give them away yet. But I will. I just need to get up the courage . . . change is hard.

Meanwhile, I am trying really hard to build my wardrobe back up - this time, using more tips from Oprah.com and focusing on the few quality pieces that every working woman needs.

And the bags of clothes still sit in my hallway . . .