I’ve tried it before and I’ve just finished trying it, again. Both times were an abysmal failure.

I just had to step on a scale for the first time in a year (because of some not routine medical tests) and for the first time in nearly five [years] I am once again, overweight. I am now bigger than I was before all of this started. I am now bigger than the first time when I met my husband – the time that I told him that I was really going to transform my body before I hit 40.

I was 36. I am now 42.

The experiment failed.

I’m not saying that intuitive eating doesn’t work – but it doesn’t work for me.

Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s the whacked out thyroid. Maybe it’s the overactive immune system. Maybe I was just fooling myself when I thought that I knew what my body wanted, when it was hungry, etc. Who knows?

Regardless, I do know one thing – I’m allowing it to affect every aspect of my life, from my work to my relationships. All of the cognitive therapy that I’ve been doing so that I can love my body from the inside out? Well, despite the immense talent of my coach, it folds in the face of the illuminated number on a silver scale. It folds in the face of the double digit clothing that I can barely fit into. It folds every time that someone touches any part of my body that roils underneath the slightest bit of pressure.

So, intuitive or not, it’s time for a little accountability.

If I can’t be truly in touch with my body then I at least need to know what’s going on so that I am not just sitting around weighting (every pun, intended. Do you believe that that was actually a Freudian slip? It was – really) to find the right combination of seaweed, protein, whole grains that just so happen to be gluten-free, etc., that is going to unlock all of the nutritional and weight loss secrets of the universe.

In other words, I am going to revert back to calories in/calories out.

Now, I can hear the groan from my friends – at least a thousand of whom are graduates from one of the best schools of integrative nutrition in the country. But I know that all calories are not equal, so you don’t have to worry that I think that a 800+ calorie bomb from McDonald’s will have the same nutritional value as 2 of my green smoothies (even without all of the cruciferous vegetables that contain goitrogens that suppress thyroid function). But at least this way I will know – that I’ll know that it’s not something that I’m just fooling myself about. I remember the autumn that I gained 10 pounds eating “healthy cookies….” Could it be?

Because if it really is me – then maybe I can learn to do something else. But if it isn’t me (and it really is her, my body who is suffering under the unmitigated stress of my life) then, maybe, I can learn to forgive myself and my body and allow myself to connect not only with her – but also emotionally, mentally, and physically with those other people in my life who really don’t seem to mind if I weigh 140 or 170 pounds.

Seriously, as I even write the number, tears come to my eyes and the thought, unbidden, how could this have happened to me? How did I let it happen?

In the past, I have followed cleanses to the letter. And I did pretty much the same this time – that is until I ran out of the herbal supplement that I was taking for detox a day early! I was sort of horrified for about a minute and I immediately found myself falling down the rabbit hole of “Oh my god! I don’t have enough a stuff to finish the cleanse! This is awful, etc, etc.” Luckily I snapped out of it and forgave myself for 1) being bad at math – that is, not knowing how many servings I’d need for a 14 day cleanse – and 2) not keeping track of the house supply of Clearvite.

Does this mean that I ruined by cleanse? No. It means that I started the Body Ecology ritual (as opposed to regime or regiment, because, yes, Virginia, words matter) a day earlier. No big deal.

So a few posts earlier, I set my pre-goals for this cleanse.

I jokingly said that I would like to lose 10-15 pounds, but that my real goals were to slow down my eating, to eat smaller portions, and to learn to love my body (note the new tagline). I didn’t lose the 10-15 pounds, but I feel lighter and my clothes fit better. In fact, according the scale, I lost nothing and may have even gone up.

Am I disappointed? Actually, not at all, which is both surprising and surprisingly true.

So what did I accomplish in the last 24 days? Well, I think the biggest thing that happened is I bought a weighted hula hoop and I am having the best time…EVER. I never had any idea my belly was so much fun (not to mention talented)! Thank goodness it’s summer, because I’ve actually started running around in jog bras and crop tops so that I can hula at will and there’s something delightful about feeling the hoop grip your skin. It’s sexy. It’s fun. And my inner child, who never really has gotten the hang of crunches (who can blame her, really?) or yoga loves it.

I also started letting stuff go. Emotional stuff. Physical stuff. I shed clothes and shoes and anything that “didn’t serve me” or was ugly. Even things I had spent money on – especially things that I had spent money on and never used. Because even though I didn’t realize it at the time, when I would look at them, I would feel guilty or start to beat myself for wasting money – and goodness knows that guilt never serves. In the immortal words of Willie Nelson, “Regret is just a memory, painted on my brow, ’cause there’s nothing I can do about it now.” There is something you can do: learn the lesson. Bury (or give away) the evidence. Then move on.

I also stepped into my feminine. Well, it’s probably more appropriate to say that I continued the process of stepping into my feminine because it’s been going on for a while and it’s a process. I started small: I started listening to female artists again. I realized that since I have been living with Michael, I have adopted a lot of his music: The Grateful Dead, Daniel Lanois, U2, Talking Heads, etc (though I must admit that I drew the line at Zappa)! While he was away, I went through the music collection and picked out a female artist for every letter in the alphabet and worked my way through. Now, I’m not talking Britney Spears or Lady Gaga – my typical workout partners – I’m talking divas, like Annie Lennox, Barbara Streisand, Dinah Washington, Ella Fitzgerald, Jewel, Melissa Etheridge, Nora Jones, Patsy Kline, Sade…. You get the picture. A range of women sharing their experiences of the world.

I have also started doing yoga and meditating. I discovered essential oils. Essential oils help me with meditation because they smell so damn good that it’s pretty irresistible to just sit quietly with them and breathe deeply. I’ve been putting my fork down between every bite and remembering to breathe when I eat; especially to take three deep breaths before food ever passes my lips and to stop and take three more if I catch myself rushing.

I also rediscovered the sensual pleasure of dry skin brushing and wearing short skirts with flip flops on a summer’s day. And I’m sorry to say that I’ve only now fully discovered the importance of presence – not only in my relationships with food, but in my relationships with others, be it family, friends, or strangers. Being in the moment also helps with hula hooping, so it provides a great field in which to practice.

Last night I had dinner with Michael and a a couple of his friends (now my friends as well, as it was the first time we’d met). I drank my water while Michael and Jackie had wine. I ordered the swordfish without the sticky rice or mango sauce, while Jackie ordered the striped sea bass and the sweet potatoes (yum!). I had peppermint tea for dessert while Jackie and Paul split a creme brulee and Michael had an ice cream sundae with extra chocolate sauce. And on the way home, I realized that hadn’t felt at all deprived. I didn’t feel like I was cheated out of having a good time because I didn’t have the wine (I did smell the wine and, I’m not going to lie, it did smell fabulous). But, in retrospect, the peppermint tea (which, unfortunately, was not brand identified by the tag) was the best I ever had and I woke feeling awesome…much better than I felt the last two or three times I’ve had wine.

So today I started the next three month phase of trying to reclaim my immune system. What have I learned so far?

Own every part of myself.
Have more fun.
Laugh more often.
Be present (or as has been said better than I ever could: Be Here Now).
And love yourself – regardless.

It was interesting in a number of ways.

One, today is the first day I overate. In retrospect, I’m not even sure if I was hungry, if I was really worried about crashing my metabolism and producing cortisol, or if I just finally gave into the insidiousness of my unconscious mind.

Whatever it was, instead of drinking copious amounts of tea after dinner, which has become my habit (and going to bed slightly hungry), I decided that I should eat more calories today and had a green smoothie. Now, granted, it was a green smoothie and I did leave out the hemp seeds, and it was only 250 calories and most of it was high quality protein (raw hemp powder) and leafy greens. But, the truth is, I didn’t need it. The truth is, I would have been better off with the tea, because as soon as I finished it, I realized that not only was a no longer hungry, but I was stuffed.

I suppose that I could have only had half of the smoothie, but trust me on this: I don’t yet have that degree of self-possession. Notice, I say yet.

Then, feeling bloated and stuffed, I decide not to exercise.

Whoa. Can we say slippery slope?

So I took a deep breath, fully associated into the uncomfortable feeling of being overfull (I even turned it up using my favorite food related submodalities) so that I would not be tempted lest I decide to try it again tomorrow. Then, instead of going to bed like I wanted to do, I went and did yoga. 50 minutes.

It was hard. It didn’t feel good. It wasn’t fun.

But I did feel better…after it was done.

Let’s be completely honest: I don’t really think I was all that hungry.

And I am in no danger of starving.

I did not need the shake.

I think at some unconscious level I was making some misguided attempt to “reward” myself either for ten great days of cleansing or finally getting a handle on a work project that had been giving me the slip. Regardless, it was an old strategy – one that I am glad to say, no longer brings the pleasure it once did.

And, though I never thought that I would every say this (at least not in print), I am glad I did the yoga.

Sometimes old habits are hard to break, but nothing’s impossible. And maybe one day, I’ll remember to reach for the yoga mat before automatically reaching for the BlendTec.

Namaste.

However, I know myself enough to know that wearing a pretty new dress wasn’t going to cut it, at least not on day one.

First things first: I admit that I am a calorie counter. This was a problem, because I was counting the empty calories as I ate them. I’ll continue to count calories, but I will also be more diligent about the quality.

For example, the apple that I had yesterday afternoon was much more satisfying than 1 1/2 Reese’s pieces cups that I get for the same 95 calories!

Remember the candy bowl – you know, the infamous office candy bowl? Well, unfortunately we became reacquainted – after an almost two year hiatus somewhere along the second week of February? (Can anyone say Valentine’s Day?) What started off as one piece of substandard dark chocolate, quickly became became two, and then eventually shot up to 6 or 8 pieces a day. And, much to my chagrin, I was no longer limiting myself to dark. I’ll admit it, I hooked again – not on cheap chocolate, but on the sugar.

And for those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, sugar, for some of us, is as addictive as crack.

So the very first thing I did yesterday morning was draft an email to my entire office:

Hello all!

I need your help as I have fallen afoul of the infamous bowl.

If you see me with a piece of chocolate in my hand, or even reaching for one, I will give you $20.00.

Thanks for your assistance in this small, but consequential matter.

KJLively

Now I would have loved to have seen their faces, when they opened that message. Because, trust me, it didn’t take long for the responses to start pouring in. Here’s a sample:

This is a great decision. I should also become brave like you and participate in the pledge. But, for now, I look forward to making some money this year. I will be watching you very carefully. – M

As incoming chair, I wouldn’t mind if your first official act in office was to remove the bowl in the first place! But I’ll keep an eye on you anyway. Let me know when you want to have lunch. – J

To me it seems like you have infinite will-power, but I will be happy to help out (and take your money!). – D

I shall be vigilant and have started my vigilance by absconding ten minutes ago with one Hersey mini from the infamous bowl. – B

One thing that many of you may not know about me, because this is a blog about food and not money, is that I am about as cheap as anyone can possibly get. I also have enough pride to choke a horse and even though I am willing to bare my foibles here, I am not willing to do so in the office. And though I know that there are going to be times that I am alone in the office, I have enough personal honor to know that if I were to reach for a Hershey’s miniature (shudder) that I really would feel compelled to leave a $20 on the departmental administrator’s desk.

And, knowing her, and not to mention my luck, I can just about guarantee that she’d use it to – you guessed it – buy even more chocolate!

The funny thing is that now that I went public, I am no longer tempted. Nothing’s changed. The bowl still sits right outside my door. But the thought of laying down $20 for a single piece of candy (or $120 for 6) or people watching me do it….

No way.

I’m not quite willing to offer Michael $40 every time he catches me in the tahini jar, but it’s a close thing.

Exiting the Roller Coaster – appropriate, but not necessarily enlightening.

Becoming My Own Expert – probably a little more elucidating.

How about, Reclaiming the Owner’s Manual?

Last year was a year of experimentation and disappointments for me in terms of my health, my motivation, and – let’s get real – my weight.

It started with the food allergies: gluten, dairy, soy, and – as much as it pains me to admit it – nuts.

In an attempt to deal with those, I went raw and for 4 or 5 months, I felt great. In fact, in May, I felt (and looked, lest we forget that I am much more shallow and vain than I had ever given myself credit for) better than I had in my entire life. I also weight in at a slight 132.5 (a whole 100 pounds from my high weight recorded in the Weight Watchers office at 21st and Sheridan in 1986).

In June, things started to change.

My energy started flagging. I was no longer working. I could barely get out of bed and on the days that I managed it, I often spent the afternoons on the couch. I think the most worrisome thing for those closest to me was that I was no longer exercising. Not only did I not have the energy, I didn’t want to. Zero interest.

In an attempt to jumpstart my interest – in anything – I started looking to experts. I tried High Intensity Interval Training (which I hated) and, even though it worked for everyone else, it did nothing for me. I read a book where the authors suggested that counting calories was bad and that you should just eat slower and take more pleasure in your food.

Due to a strange twist of fate (numbness in my hands which resulted in a second degree burn), a neurologist did a panel of blood tests and as it turns out, I have Hashimoto’s disease, which means that my autoimmune system is attacking my thyroid. My chiropractor recommended that I start eating some cooked food. My health coach recommended that I start eating small amounts of animal protein at every meal and that I treat the underlying problem using herbal and nutritional supplements without taking the prescribed synthroid.

About this time, I also started working with a fitness coach, who convinced me to separate food from exercise. I took supplements, I cleansed. I didn’t take the medicine as prescribed. The thyroid numbers got worse and worse.

I took belly dancing, yoga. I danced in my living room.

You name it, I did it.

And I still felt like crap and still had no energy.

I cleansed again.

And still my clothes didn’t fit. In six months I had gained 16 pounds…. Ugly.

My mood swings were turning into tilt-a-whirls. I started the synthroid, while continuing the herbal treatment for the underlying adrenal exhaustion.

I have recalled my calorie tracking program and relinked calories in with calories out, even though I do know enough to know that not all calories are created equally.

This is not a New Year’s Resolution. This really is more of a state of the union. The state of the relationship between me and my body.

To date, we are stronger than we were just a few weeks ago.

Why? Because I’ve decided to stop listening to the experts and to really tune in to what I/we need to heal.

But trust us, we have a long way to go.

It’s funny, I used to know what worked for me, but in the last six months, I’ve felt completely out to sea. Not only out to sea, but out to sea without a map and, if truth be told, without a compass.

Over the next few days, I’m going to get serious about creating that map and putting it into place. I am also going to tune into the compass – that is, my intuitive knowledge about myself – that I have also been so steadfastly ignoring. I’m, importantly, I am going to use this blog as a personal and public tool for accountability as I turn this ship around and get headed in the right direction.

And over the next few weeks (and months, as I have no illusions that this can be undone as quickly as it was done), I will chronicle my fears, my frustrations, my joys, my successes, and my aspirations.

I love my body. It’s the only one I have and – barring all medical emergencies or miracles – the only one I’m likely ever to have.

If any of you would care to join me, I’d love for you to come along for the ride. Or if you’re simply willing to bear witness, I’d appreciate that too.

It was delicious.

It was indulgent.

It was fun.

It was high vibrational – as most of the food was organic and locally produced.

It was rich.

It was also very, very expensive.

Although my soul was filled, my body was overfull. (I also can’t tell you the last time that’s happened).

I didn’t feel good physically and when I got home, and believe it or not, I found myself noshing on leftover delicata squash (see earlier post). The full sensation – the overfull sensation actually made me want to eat more! Not to mention the sugar in the wine and the (shudder) ice cream sundae with dark chocolate sauce and brandied cherries!

I made the decision to have that meal consciously, knowing that for the next three days I am going to have to monitor my food intake closely. I won’t be counting calories, but I will be extra diligent for sugar. Because now that it’s in my system – just like crack! – the craving is there…. Just an idea. Just a whisper. Just an ever present suggestion: Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little bit more?

I would, actually. But I’m going to pass.

Last night, as I crawled in bed, I murmured the following as I rubbed my tummy, anointing it with lavender:

I apologize
I love you
Please forgive me
Thank you

No self-recriminations, just love. I am the caretaker of my body and I – and I alone – am responsible for it’s condition.

I was still exercising and I do think some of it’s muscle (as I’m still in my 4s – for the most part and my 6s, comfortably), but it’s clear that the belly (aka Bella) has taken on a life of her own.

Granted, I’ve been really sad over the last three weeks or so. Not miserable, but definitely feeling a loss.

I also have had less control over my eating – more peanut butter, more binges, but – in all fairness – my binge eating is pretty tame by most people’s standards. And even though I haven’t been counting calories, even on the days that I was over eating, I wasn’t over eating that much. I certainly wasn’t eating even lose to 2,000 a day, so things just really didn’t seem to add up.

Yesterday, however, it all slid into place.

It wasn’t that I ate all that much more this summer.

It wasn’t that I stopped exercising.

It’s that I stopped moving this summer, aside from exercise.

In the interest of saving time and gasoline (and spending more time with Cat) I worked at home this summer. And I worked a lot. Meaning that on most days, as soon as I finished working out, I took a shower and walked 15 steps to the dining room table (or 8 steps into the living room) and worked – i.e., sat on my ass, which got progressively bigger as the weeks passed.

It didn’t occur to me that this was a problem, because I had stayed tuned into food and exercise – that is, formal exercise – like High Intensity Interval Training, Nordic Track, K-Bells, Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred, etc. You know, the kind of stuff that you actually get dressed for and makes you sweat.

Well, because I am determined to get rid of my extra padding that I put on this summer, I started working with a fitness coach.

This woman, whose name is Susan, has given me a device known as a CalTrac. A CalTrac is beeper-like object that you wear on your waist band and it calculates the amount of calories you burn through movement, separate from the calories that you burn just by being alive.

The first couple of days that I had it, I was actually at a conference, which pretty much mimicked what I had been doing at home all summer.

Guess how many calories you burn through movement when you sit on your butt all day?

Less than 200.

Way less.

Yesterday, I headed back to the office.

Instead of shuffling from the bathroom to the kitchen – like I’d done everyday for the last three months – I parked my car at the gym and walked to my office. I walked back across campus to go to convocation (which, ironically, was pretty darned close to where I’d parked my car). Then I walked back to my office. Then, later in the afternoon, I took a turn around the pond, because I realize that the leaves are turning and I won’t have too many more gorgeous days left. At the end of the day I walked back to my car and then to my belly dancing class, because I figured that it would be hard to find parking (which, as it turns out, would have been had I drove).

At the end of the day, I had burned 809 calories through movement – and that’s not counting the 440 calories that I had burned that morning on the stair mill!

200?

800?

That’s a 600 calorie difference just by moving (or not moving) without any consideration of exercise whatsoever.

That’s 3,000 calories a week, assuming a 5 day work week.

That’s practically a pound a week.

No wonder I gained weight!

And no wonder I just didn’t get it.

Because I hadn’t changed what I ate – not that much anyway.

And I hadn’t changed the number of calories that I burned through formal/scheduled exercise.

But I had changed the informal/unscheduled calories that you burn just by walking, just by moving.

It’s a little annoying to wear a little blue device on your belt, but it sure is motivating.

In fact, instead of checking my email when I’m done here, chances are I’m going to take a turn around the pond. It is another gorgeous day after all. But, perhaps even more importantly, it’s another 200+/- calories!

It really never occurred to me that the non-sweat inducing activity of walking (back and forth from cars, between buildings, etc.) could make the difference of a pound a week!

Who knows? I may start parking even further away than I do now (not to mention using the women’s bathroom on the fifth floor instead of the one outside of my office)!

If you’ve changed your routine and you’ve noticed that you’re feeling a little thicker around the middle, perhaps you should get up and move a little bit more than you do – and maybe even a little more than that tomorrow.

I know that’s my plan!

There’s nothing like putting your jeans on after months of shorts and linen pants to shake up your psyche.

They were snug. And these weren’t even the 4s. These were the 6s!

So, in the interest of being honest (with myself more than anyone) I am going to the gym for the first time in months (MONTHS!) and after my workout I am going to actually step on the scale.

I’m doing this for two reasons.

The first is that I’d hate for three months from now to try on the 8s and have the same thing happen.

The second is that I am starting a new program – this one a little more intensive and comprehensive than the last. And, unfortunately, they want a starting weight…not just measurements.

So I think the key thing for me is that whatever that number says – which I have no doubt is higher than it was in March when I hit the magical 132.5 – is just a number.

It’s just data.

It’s not an endorsement.

It’s not failure.

It’s a starting point.

Just one more point on the road.

Wish me luck and, as always, I’ll keep you posted.

Well, yesterday, I didn’t get my act together and I found myself – at 10:00 p.m., which is probably the worst time of day to exercise – clamping on the heart rate monitor and going for it.

And I mean I really went for it, as if there was literally no tomorrow.

In fact, I worked out so hard that I couldn’t even finish the workout! (Though, in all fairness, I was pretty beat when I started, which is just one of the reasons why working out at night sucks to begin with.)

Anyway, I have you to thank for the fact that I did anything at all – well, you and the fact that I told you that I was committing to move my body every single day (come hell or high water). Public accountability. Who knew?

Today, I missed my morning workout as well – this time because when I woke up I was fatigued from lat night – and Michael J and I jumped into a joint editing project shortly after I made my morning smoothie.

What to do? What to do?

Is it really worth it exercising again in the late hours and my heart rate up just before crawling into bed?

Or would it be better to do yoga and really try to turn my schedule around (that is, get up first thing and HIIT the ground running)?

Even though I didn’t do what I said I was going to do – get my exercise in early – it’s amazing how strong the pull to exercise was just because I told you that I was going to do it.

Now I guess I understand all of those women (and some men) who blast out their every food related indiscretion (or success) on twitter. If nothing else, I suppose, it keeps you honest.

So yoga tonight. Or maybe another couple, three rounds of HIIT.

One or the other.

It’s not quite six of one or half dozen of the other, but it’s close.

Thanks for being there. And for making me kick my own butt.

I really never quite got there with any of my exercise programs – well, at least not until a couple of weeks ago, when I mashed together one of my favorites (high intensity cardio intervals on the nordic track) and HIIT (or high intensity interval training) on the ground.

That combination – while a total bitch – is killer.

And at the end of two rounds of HIIT, sandwiched between the cardio, I am almost always working out until failure. It’s great. And what’s even better is that I am seeing improvement! I can do more of each of the exercises than I could when I started and my form, for the most part, is improving by the day.

Just as I was hitting my groove on this new and improved exercise routine, however, my subconscious tossed up yet another block: If I don’t exercise in the morning, I don’t. And this from a woman who used to teach exercise classes at 5:15 – P.M.

What is going on?

Instead of beating myself up about it, as I am wont to do, I’ve decided to just accept it.

A.M. workouts it is. Now that school is starting again, it’s going to be a little tougher, but I am committing (hence putting it here, in writing).

The reason for the pubic declaration is thus:

Today, instead of working out immediately, I went straight to work and didn’t actually get around to exercising until 5:00. And trust me, by the time I got started, I had I spent more time – and almost as much energy – trying to convince myself to do it than I did on the exercise itself!

My body didn’t feel right.
I’m too full from lunch.
I have a headache.
I’m hungry.
I’m tired.
I feel sluggish.
I don’t want to.
It’s too late.
I didn’t get enough sleep last night.
I don’t have any umph….

You name it, I tried to sell myself on it.

Ironically when I finally got started it turned out to be one of my best workouts ever: 400 calories in just over 30 minutes – heart rate through the roof when it needed to be, coming right back down where I wanted it to be in the short (30 second) time allotted. When I was done, I was a stinky, soppy mess. And I felt great.

But was it worth the hassle of having to fight with myself every step of the way to go get my workout clothes, put them on, find the heart rate monitor, set the timer up, etc?

The jury’s still out.

So, tomorrow, morning it is. And the day after, same thing.

Ever since I was a kid, the Fall has brought with it new rhythms and routines that within just a few weeks became seamless and easy. Let’s hope that this autumn is no different. Until then, morning it is, as never really doesn’t seem like much of an option.