Monday, July 25, 2011

Take it off: Week 21

Want to see what I got last Thursday? 


This morning I am 198 even. Never thought I'd be taking pictures of my scale for you all. But I couldn't believe it myself and needed photographic evidence. Honestly, I never thought I'd get here again and you better believe I totally cried a little. 

So what's it like being in One-derland? Weird. It's a strange place to be. It's exhilarating, inspirational, joyful, motivating, scary, confusing, intimidating and sometimes sad. 

The last week, mentally, has not been all ticker-tape parades and fireworks. Seeing that ONE has turned up the heat on the internal battle with myself. I am so proud of myself. I am beyond happy with the progress I've made, the things I've done to change my life, the opportunities that these changes have brought and continue to bring. I exercise almost daily! That alone is a miracle. Sundays are my 'maybe' days. If I am feeling lazy, I let myself be lazy. Every day I become more and more mindful of what I am eating and what I am feeding my child. I am proud of the way the changes I am making are changing my family in a positive manner.

But for all the pride and joy I feel over my accomplishments, there is a lot of struggling and fear. Just mere moments after getting this long sought after prize of making my way into One-derland, I found myself thinking about 'bad' foods. All I can think about all week are bad foods. Fear not though! I overcame every urge to indulge. I did have a birthday party this weekend (Happy 1st Birthday Mags!) and did allow myself a small piece of cake. Boy oh boy did I regret it. My body is not used to sugar and fatty foods anymore. (Toot! Toot!)

I find myself worrying about events that will have large amounts of food. Worrying to the point that I don't want to go to these events. This weekend it was a birthday party and an outdoor music festival (mmmm....funnel cake). The birthday was a real wake up call for me. I NEED to go to Overeater's Anonymous meetings. I need to confront this constant food conflict I have going on in my head. I've done so well staying on track. I've have my little side trips - but the birthday party caused me so much anxiety. I did really well and ate small portions, filled up mostly on veggies, only scooped a few bites worth of tasty, high carb items. I was super proud of myself for being able to eat responsible portions. But there was this beast in my head trying to talk me into eating more even after I was full. 

As for the festival, thankfully it was so damn hot, any temptation I had was quashed by the unbearable heat. Yay?

So after I get back from BlogHer, I will begin going to meetings. 

There. I said it. I need to build my food fighting army if I plan to be successful. 

There is also the struggle with my body. Its so awesome that I can go to stores now and fit into just about anything. Fun, right? Well...sort of. I'm all lumpy and saggy now. A full body tuck is most certainly in my future one day. I've been obese for so long - things are just stretched out. So clothes that should look great end up looking lumpy. I see myself as a really comfortable couch. ;) But really this struggle is minor and nothing a pair of Spanx can't fix. Overall I am really happy with my appearance. Who knew I had such dainty wrists under that chub!? I think really its the overwhelming idea of what am I going to do with my body when I get to goal. How will I afford the much needed and expensive surgery to fix flabby skin? It's a lot to consider and will be quite necessary in my case.

I'm seeing a lot of huge changes in my body and my self. Most are awesome, some make me feel kind of blah and others are just downright scary (in good and bad ways). I pray that the farther away I get from the 200's that I will find more comfort and joy with my new self than internal torment and conflict. 

All of this aside, I am seriously proud of myself. It's been a long bumpy road to get here but I can see the finish line now. Fifty-eight pounds to go. I mean really? That's it? (of course, talk to me tomorrow when I am like 'SHIT! 58 freaking pounds! UGH!') I got this though. And it will be even easier with an even bigger support group. I hope OEA is ready for me. :-S

And since this post turned kind of mopey-pants, lets turn that around. I'll leave you with a dog in underpants!

(Yes, those are my old underpants that are now too big and 'reconstructed' to fit the dog.)

P.S. I will be posting 40lb pics later today. I forgot about it over the weekend...cuz you know, I was busy obsessing over cake and potato salad.

Month One: -16 lbs
Month Two: -5
Month Three: -6 lb
Month Four: -6 lb
Week seventeen: -2 lb
Week eighteen: -2 lb (Holy shit y'all! I'm below pre-pregnancy weight!)
Week nineteen: -1 lb
Week twenty: -1 lb
Week twenty one: -3 lb

Total: 42 lbs gone forever!

If you're interested in trying Medifast, I have a great deal for you!  Use the code TURNIP50 to get $50 off an order of $275. 
*FTC  Disclosure: Medifast provides their products for my personal use for  free. I am not paid or compensated in any other way for mentioning    their products.  All thoughts  written here are mine. I love complaining  so I would tell you if I didn't like something in  the program. :)

~*Stephanie aka Goober Monkey*~
~*Jenni aka Jenni From the Blog*~
~*Censide aka Building Our Story*~

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

WW: Taking the scenic route

This is me, November 2010. Four months before starting Medifast. (Look how short Izzy is!!)

This was me last Saturday, four and a half months after starting Medifast. (Look how big Iz got in 9 months!)

Oh yeah. We're getting there.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Best Invention ever.

Potty training has been a completely different animal than I had anticipated. When Izzy was close to turning one, I had musings about her being potty trained early in life. I has lofty aspirations of having her out of diapers long before she turned two. Well...she wasn't that interested and I am lazy. I figure there are better battles to fight than potty training. As two came and went and three crept up on us, we needed to wrap this whole potty training thing up. Izzy has been going #2 in the potty consistently since last summer. In the beginning it was mostly good timing on our part but eventually she got the hang of recognizing when she needed to go. However, going #1 has been our big challenge. She never uses the potty consistently for #1 and I am beyond over it. I am sick of buying pull-ups.

But do you know what was even more annoying? Having a clunky training potty in our bathroom.

You may have seen me make mention in the past that our house is very small. And perhaps when I've mentioned this, you thought I was exaggerating.  As much as I wish I were, there are people that live in double wide trailers that are bigger than my house. As with any house, the living room area is probably the biggest room. Then the kitchen/dining area, the two small bedrooms, the closets and then the bathroom.

Yup. The closets are bigger than the bathroom.

Okay, I am exaggerating that time but for real, the bathroom is tiny. I can stretch my arms out the width of the room and touch the walls while a bend remains in my arms. I can dip my feet in the tub while sitting on the pot. I can wash my hands in the sink without ever rising from the throne. and I can do both at the same time if I sit at just the right angle. 

Adding a training potty to our already crowded bathroom just makes things worse. It ate up practically the entire floor in that room. You could hardly move without bumping into it. And trying to be in there at the same time with her was a joke. We practically had to do contortions to clean her up. And in recent months, she decided she no longer liked using her little potty and wanted to use the big one. Ok, cool, we can get rid of the little potty. Well, after she dragged her dirty butt across the seat while trying to get down, I realized she needed the trainer potty as a step stool. Oh yay! now the annoying potty is in front of the big potty. Want to take a guess how many times I stumbled over it in the middle of the night?

Insert the single greatest invention to potty training (and the small bathroom) ever.
Stop judging my out-dated and poorly decorated bathroom, Judgypants. I know its ugly.
The Little Looster has been like a gift from the gods in our house. Thanks to its awesome wrap-around design, it tucks under the commode and clears up a ton of floor space. I can actually get around the bathroom with out stubbing my toes. What's even better is, on Mondays when I weigh in, my lazy butt doesn't need to bend over to move it and get to the scale. I just hook my foot under that gap there and move it to the side.
I really like the stability of the Looster. The underside of the Looster is reinforced with molded beams from wall to wall. It's not like a flimsy Ikea stool that would collapse under someone heavier than 50lbs. This bad boy can hold up to 200 pounds! What's even better is that Izzy can get up and down off the toilet without touching or dragging her body across the seat.
Yay looster!
What I love most though is the level of independence that the Little Looster has introduced into our home.  Izzy is still using pull-ups but they stay dry 75% of the time because she loves using the potty now. She will get the urge, stop what she's doing and as she runs to the bathroom announces "MOMMY I GO POTTIEEEEEE!". It's almost like a toddler sonic boom as she rockets through the house. 

And since she is staying dry most of the time I think we might *gulp* finally take the leap to big girl underwear.

Want to know a secret? 

I like the Looster too...
Aside from the comfortable ride the Looster provides, I love, love, love that it was invented by a mom. She saw a need in the market and she filled it! Frankly, I am shocked that no one had come up with this in the past - it just seems so right. So there you go folks, an average, every day mom can come up with something completely life altering. (But we knew that, right ladies?) Corporate america, we flip our mom hair at you! 

All and all I give the Little Looster 5 out of 5 rolls of TP. It's great for those just starting on the potty and...ummm...beyond. It's sturdy, light weight, safe and encourages hygienic behavior (aka not wrapping their fingers around the underside of the seat. ick). 

Now get the hell out of here. I've gotta see a man about a horse.

If you'd like a Little Looster of your own (because you sure aren't getting mine *ahem* I mean Izzy's) use the code THANKU5 to get $5 off your purchase at But Hurry! It's only good until the end of the month.

Better yet, if you want to WIN a Little Looster, head over to and enter her giveaway! 

Disclaimer: The Little Looster was provided to me at no cost in an exchange for a review. All opinions are 100% mine and I was not compensated in any way for a positive review of this product. Carry on now.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Take it off, Week 20: I'm getting there!.....eventually.

I have a self portrait for you all today.

This is the interpretation of the ongoing battle of Me vs. My Body.

See the jet pack? That's me. That is how I was all week. Zoom, zoom zoom. I've upped my exercise (y'all I am **sorta** running. More on that in a minute.) See that snail? That's the Body. My body, its as slow as slow can be. I lost a pound this week. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed because I busted my ass this week. But I am okay with it too. Its a weird feeling. I am all 'YOU MOTHER EFFER!!!' at the scale and then I get dressed and I am all 'Well, a pound is a pound and no matter what, I am doing something good for my body and my life.' as I slip on my loose clothing.

I knew my body was going to fight me to get under 200lbs. I've been so big for so long - how could it not be like 'Hold up! WTF do you think you are doing? This is what we are!'.

Well, ok Body. I get it. Change is difficult and puts you in a weird place and comes with all sorts of icky yet conflicting euphoric feelings. But umm, Body, I like you and all but we are doing some renovations and you can either suck it up or get to gettin'. And really, we don't work well without each other, so let's compromise. I'll do all the work and you just move at your pace. It's totally cool with me as long as we are moving in the right direction.

(Yes, I actually had this conversation with my body.)

I know you are saying 'Hold on Kell, what's this running nonsense? You aren't the most motivated exerciser the world has seen.' Well that's the beauty of losing weight, you get motivated to do other things. I wouldn't necessarily call what I do 'running' because I am not very fast. Let's call it 'wunning'. Because if you saw me you might think oh there is a lady walking. But no I am, in fact, attempting to run. I'm just not that fast. You could probably pass me if you were walking. :P

I've mentioned before that I walk nearly every day during my lunch break. In a very Forrest Gump moment, one day last week I just decided that walking wasn't fast enough and I started run-ning-a (say that in the Gump voice). I think, for me, I've done pretty well. I've been averaging about a mile and a half in about twenty or so minutes (STOP LAUGHING). I have a limited amount of time to run since my break is only a half hour. So I follow up at night with some other form of exercise to round out the day. On Saturday I went a little over two miles in a half hour.

So yeah...I guess for now I am 'wunning'. We'll see where it takes me. I'm not exactly looking to run any marathons or anything. I'll just call this experimental exercise since I'm not quite sure if I like it or not.

I also had lots of NSV's this week. First, I was on plan 100% this week. I rarely make any big cheats but things slip in here and there. So its a big deal to say I was on plan 100%. Even with a trip to Dutch Wonderland I managed to stay on plan. You might be asking why this resulted in a measly one pound loss - but I will tell you I am definitely losing inches. I'm less flabby and my clothes are ridiculously loose. So my best guess is that my fat is being replaced with muscle mass and that is just canceling out lower numbers on the scale.

I went shopping twice this week. I desperately needed new bras. I've gone down from a 42DD to a 38D and I am officially in a size 16 (I was nearly a 22 when I started Medifast). I almost bought some 14's but they were still a bit snug. Hold on to your hats people: I bought shorts. SHORTS! And you know what else? When I walk, they don't ride up. I don't get the thigh wedgie anymore!

My favorite shopping moment this week though was when I went to Kohl's yesterday. Everything I bought came from the regular sized section. Not Women's. Not Plus. Just the good old fashioned ladies section!

I have also consistently tracked all of my food and exercise in the past two weeks. I am terrible about this but its a necessary evil. I am no good if I just try to 'remember' what I've had, especially if I happen to have a snack during the course of the day.

So I am still moving in the right direction. It may not be as fast as I'd like but I'm getting there.

Hey buddy, can you pick up the pace?
I've got places to be.

Month One: -16 lbs
Month Two: -5
Month Three: -6 lb
Month Four: -6 lb

Week seventeen: -2 lb
Week eighteen: -2 lb (Holy shit y'all! I'm below pre-pregnancy weight!)
Week nineteen: -1 lb
Week twenty: -1 lb

Total: 39 lbs gone forever!

If you're interested in trying Medifast, I have a great deal for you!  Use the code TURNIP50 to get $50 off an order of $275. 
*FTC  Disclosure: Medifast provides their products for my personal use for  free. I am not paid or compensated in any other way for mentioning    their products.  All thoughts  written here are mine. I love complaining  so I would tell you if I didn't like something in  the program. :)

~*Stephanie aka Goober Monkey*~
~*Jenni aka Jenni From the Blog*~
~*Censide aka Building Our Story*~

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Flashback Friday: The Accidental Flasher

This post was originally published on The Adventures of Goober Grape & Monkey Man as a guest post. I wanted to repost it here in honor of my friends, Dan and Wendy, who recently got engaged.
I am beyond excited for Dan and Wendy - so much so that Wendy is probably all
Whatevs. I am stupid excited about this and I am not going to make any apologies for it. Maybe my over the top excitement is partly because it will mean a weekend away from home and maaaaybe it will be child free.  ::raises roof:: 
Congratulations Dan and Wendy! In celebration of this joyous occasion, I would like to present the retelling of the single most embarrassing moment of my parenting life. 

The Accidental Flasher
I think we’ve all had at least one moment in our lives where we want to turn back the hands of time – even for just a few minutes – and start over. A moment so embarrassing that you are standing on the line of laughing hysterically or crying and running out of the room.

That was the moment I had two weeks ago. In true ‘it figures’ fashion, it happened in front of someone I just met, someone I hadn’t seen in a very long time and at least 20 other witnesses. As I stood there in this moment, everything moved so slowly. I could feel my face filling up with red like the mercury rising in a thermometer on a sweltering Summer day. My eyes became an oasis of tears. I stood there, almost outside of myself, trying to decide how I would react to this moment. And as I looked around at the smiling yet forgiving faces around me, I had no choice but to laugh at myself.

This all started about 2 months ago. Dan, a friend from college, [for the sake of convenience, we will refer to it as college] sent me a message on Facebook. He wanted to know if I would be around in January because he and his girlfriend were coming to Philly.

I’ve known Dan since 1995 – back when he had this haircut:
(hehe sorry Dan. That’s some serious 90′s hair. I had to share it.)
So that means we have a fairly long history. We’ve had our ups and downs, we’ve seen each other stupid drunk and just plain stupid. We’ve had our laughs and our quibbles. We had a lot of good times with the rest of our group of college friends and if memory serves correct, we’ve witnessed one another do a lot of really dumb things.

Dan and I had not seen each other in about 8 years. We’ve kept in touch over the years through email and IM but never got together because of the distance (he is a 3+ hour drive from me). So I was super excited to meet up with him and meet his new (to me) girlfriend, Wendy.

Aren’t they adorable?

But where should we meet up?

This is where the problem truly started…..sigh…..

It’s been many years since I have lived in Philly. Additionally, being the homebody that I am, night life and restaurants are somewhat foreign to me. So I rely heavily on the recommendations of other people when I’m going out of my element. I was looking for a place that was not necessarily family friendly but not too upscale. Simply a place I could take Iz and she wouldn’t be screaming and lobbing crayons at people during their quiet, $85 a plate ‘experience’. I wanted to go someplace where the adults would enjoy the environment and the kid could be entertained with some crayons and small toys. A friend suggested Monk’s. Perfect! Its within walking distance of Dan and Wendy’s hotel and the menu prices are decent. I was sold!

Well, buyer beware. Always review what you are buying into before you sign off on the check.

As if the nerves from meeting up with my friend wasn’t enough – apparently the place we chose was more bar than it was restaurant. So in the midst of those first awkward moments of meeting new people and getting reacquainted with others, I had to juggle my antsy toddler around the bar amongst strangers that didn’t exactly have plans to hang out with a kid. To make matters worse, we had to wait about 45 minutes for a table. That’s right people. I spent 45 minutes at the seriously crowded bar with my two and a half year old. And while I am not exactly proud of this, that’s not the embarrassing part of this story. Besides, I personally think it would be pretty damn funny (in a sick way) to come into a bar and see a two year old sitting there coloring in a Hello Kitty activity book. The only thing that would make it more messed up is if she had a Shirley Temple in a martini glass.

Finally we get a table and Izzy is on her 4th trip to the potty. Christian and I had been taking turns with the trips to the bathroom. But when we sat down in the booth, it was just simpler to take her myself since I was seated on the outside. Izzy was absolutely obsessed with the bathroom. I can’t blame her, it was just the right size. The toilet was sort of short and the sink was tiny and low – just her height. Every 10 FREAKING minutes she has to go potty. Back and forth, back and forth. I think I saw that bathroom more than I actually saw my friends.

With each trip to the bathroom I was becoming less and less patient. Don’t get me wrong, I completely appreciate that poor Iz was totally out of her comfort zone. And perhaps she was a little over excited by the bustling environment and the new people. Bathroom trips aside, I was very impressed with how well behaved she was despite the surroundings. But after, like, the 80th trip to the bathroom, I was so over the potty game. All I could think about was going through the motions, getting it done and getting back to the table.

So we are on yet another trip to the bathroom. By now Izzy and I had our bathroom routine down pat. Efficiency experts should call on me to find out how to get a toddler out of a bathroom in under three minutes. I’d whip up a pee pee tent, constructed from the finest, low grade, one ply toilet paper in Philadelphia. She’d do her business, I’d lift her off the seat, wipe, set her up at the sink to wash her hands, I’d flush everything, turn back around and pull up her pants and wash my hands and back to the party we’d go.

You want to take a guess at which step I forgot to do on this last trip to the bathroom?

Yeah…it wasn’t the hand washing. Or the flushing.

We walked all the way back to the table. As I lifted this poor child back up into the booth, my husband exclaims ‘Baby! Her pants are down!’. I laughed and said ‘What?’ and he repeated himself. And that is when time came to a crawl, the room suddenly got hot and the walls became a little wavy. I looked at Christian, then Dan, then Wendy all the while reaching for Izzy to cover this poor child’s exposed everything.


Now, I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my short time as a mother. I am quite sure that I will do many stupid things in the future as well. Hell, I’m probably doing something stupid right this very second for all I know. But I’ve got a pretty good sense of humor about myself and life. So I can laugh off most any situation.

BUT WHO DOES THIS!?!? Who forgets to pull up their kid’s pants after a trip to the bathroom. Not only forget to pull up their pants, but walk them about 15-20 feet through a restaurant, then lifts them up into the air to put them in their seat and STILL doesn’t notice that the poor child’s pants are down. Mother of the year, right here people! I know it’s still early in the year, but I’m just going to go ahead and claim the trophy right now. [Update: Please see Wednesday's post about locking Izzy in the car. I'm working really hard to stay in the MOTY running.]

I swear. Sometimes I think Izzy would have a better shot at a normal life if I just set her free in the wild.

Thankfully everyone but me had had a couple of drinks (which might make it even sadder that I did this. I wish I could blame booze). So they all thought this was pretty hilarious. And even though I had a brief moment of wanting to sob and vomit at the same time, I had to laugh with them when I saw their faces. They were laughing – but there was also this look about their faces that said it was okay. Ridiculously humiliating and hilarious – but not the end of the world.

Besides, as Wendy later commented on Facebook: “Underwear is overrated!!! So are pants!!!”

She is so right. That’s why I typed up this post while wearing only a Snuggie.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

WW: Is this the same kid?

How did she go from looking like a little alien to this beautiful, little lady? 

It finally happened. I locked her in the car.

What a morning. 

Things started out so nicely. I was running a little late but Izzy was being quite cooperative and helpful. She dressed herself and helped me put the dog in his crate. We even had time to play a round of 'Grumpy Old Troll' in which Izzy blocks the doorway and I have to dramatically repeat whatever password she thinks up.

I did have a little trouble finding my keys, so I grabbed my husband's extra car key instead. I put them in my pocket and decided that I'd find mine later today. But on the way out of the house I noticed my keys on top of the microwave and swapped out the sets. For a brief second I thought about keeping that extra key in my pocket but decided it was silly to have both keys.


We go outside (the password to get past the troll was 'apple street', by the way) and I unlock the car, tell Izzy to climb in her seat and I open the front passenger seat to put my bag in. Then I reached over the console to put the key in the ignition and start the car. I shut the passenger side door and go to Izzy to finish strapping her in, close her door and go around to the driver's side. I pull the handle. Nothing.

I try not to curse around Izzy and if something slips out it's usually only 'damn' or 'shit'. But since we were separated by some steel, plastic and glass I let out a nice long, audible 'Oooooh Fuuuuuuudge'. But I didn't say 'fudge'. No, no, I said the mother of all curse words. Yeah, you know the one. Then I felt like a total ass for not only locking my kid in the car but for the possibility that she heard me drop the F-bomb.

I'm not sure how the car got locked. I must have hit the button on the fob when I put it in the ignition. Really I don't know. But I will be either leaving a door open or keeping the keys in my hand from now on.

Anyway, it just happened to be garbage day today and one of the garbage men was standing at the end of my driveway. He asked me if I was okay and I replied "No! I just locked my kid in my car!"

His reply?

"Oh. That sucks." 

And with that he turned away and went back to his job.

Dude. I realize its only 80 degrees out and my kid isn't in danger yet (and thankfully I had also turned the A/C on low when I started the car) but COME ON! Nothing? Not even an offer to call the police for me or anything?

I walked back to Izzy's side to see if I could instruct her to pull up the lock. But the locks sink too far into the door for her chubby fingers to dig out. I was still in panic mode and started going through the catalog in my head of what I should use to break a window. Should I break a house window to get in and get the extra keys or should I break a car window? And while I stood there simultaneously panicking and shooting the trash man dirty looks, my composure came back to me. I walked around our house looking for a spot to break in. I had already decided that if I really had to, I'd break a window in the back of the house.

Eventually I found a window that wasn't locked. I pulled our garden hose box up under the window, opened the windows and attempted to lift myself the rest of the way up.

Note to self: Do more strength training on my arms.

I turned to ask the trash man for a boost (FYI, this really all happened in about 3 minutes) and he was gone. Thanks for the help Waste Management guy. I'll remember you at Christmas.

I look back at the car and Izzy is happily sitting in her seat watching Humpty Dumpty trying to scale this wall. I try to lift myself again and get half way through the window and get caught up in the curtains. Ok, lets try again. Finally on my third attempt I get my hips up on the window sill and I shimmy myself onto the bed and into the house. I also got a nice scrap and bruise on my left thigh for my efforts.

I retrieved the extra key and we were on our way. But let me tell you, thank goodness I have lost some weight and have been working out. I never would have been able to lift myself into that window if this had happened back in March.

So everything is fine. It's such an awful, helpless feeling to see your kid sitting in the car and you can't get to them. I am so thankful that it wasn't really hot out yet and that it did happen at home. But geez Louise, I hope its at least another 3 years before I pull this stunt again! 

Would you believe I still made it to work on time too? 

(By the way, if you are looking for a house to break in to, I will be diligent about locking my windows from now on. Besides, we don't have anything nice anyway. You wouldn't walk away with much unless you want an obese cat and a dog that shits in laundry piles.)

Monday, July 11, 2011

Take it off, Week 19: Diets work.

Would you believe that an argument I had with Roseanne Barr was the inspiration for today’s post? No kidding! It went down like this:
TD-158 031910 R1 Rimsulfuron technical.qxd
First, I have to say, even though Rosie probably hates my guts, I’ve always liked her and still do. So, no hard feelings, Rosie. ;)

In my weight loss journey so far, something that is always on the front of my mind is accountability. I am accountable for my actions. My accountability or lack thereof has a direct effect on my level of success. This applies just as much to health and weight loss as it does to any other aspect of life. Even if no one sees me put that spoonful of peanut butter in my mouth, my body will hold me accountable.

We often hear from TV doctors or weight loss gurus how ‘diets don’t work’. Part of me agrees with that but an even larger part of me disagrees with that sentiment. Obviously if you are starving yourself, taking crazy pills, or doing something outrageous like eating cabbage soup and cottage cheese at every meal, yeah, you are not going to be able to keep that up. You can’t abuse your body and expect it to reward you.

Ok, here is where you get your pitchforks out. Because anyone that has ever lost weight and gained it all back is totally gonna hate what I am going to say next.

Diets work.

If you lost a bunch of weight on a well-balanced, reasonable plan and failed to maintain, that is a failure on your part, not the plan. That is the cold hard truth. (Barring some medical circumstance, of course.)

I was 193 pounds when I got married; I had lost nearly 80lbs. I knew what I had to do to keep losing. Then I got pregnant. I was 204 when I got pregnant. I knew what I had to do to maintain or gain as little as possible. I was 225 pounds after giving birth.

I was 240 even when I started Medifast.


Because I failed to do all the things I knew I needed to do. I didn’t exercise, I didn’t plan meals, I didn’t eat properly. I was lazy, I was sedentary and I was gluttonous to the point that I didn’t even have the capability to enjoy food because nothing was a treat. Every meal was a celebration.

I made excuses. I’m busy, tired, sad, hungry, happy, stressed, angry, I just had a baby, the baby is sick, I’m sick, the husband is sick, my schedule is too full, the gym is too expensive, I don't have enough space to work out, my workout clothes are dirty, I can’t find my sneakers.

I could go on for days, hell, years, about why I would like you to believe I can’t lose weight and get healthy. And that hurts, knowing that I wasted all that time and emotion when I could have just sacked up and done the right thing. I can come up with a million excuses and none of them would be a good or valid one.

The word ‘diet’ has become this four letter word. Somewhere along the way someone came up with the line ‘Diets don’t work’. That my friends, is a crock of shit. Hell, I bought it! But now I am rebelling. I reject the notion that diets are bad and they don’t work.

Révolution de Medifast! Viva le régime!

I am on a diet.

You know why? Because I don’t want to DIE. You know what my diet is? It’s a reasonable, well balanced plan that includes a temporary reduction in calories that I chose after a lot of research and personal reflection. It’s a plan that I know I can phase into a life of maintenance and long term health. And you can go ahead and say ‘We’ll see. Just you wait.’ Yes, we will see. I might falter and fluctuate a bit. But I will never go back to what I was. I am holding myself accountable and keeping the promises I’ve made to myself and Medifast is giving me the tools to build success.

Look, I get why the phrase came about. In part its because people go on these crazy crash diets that are a recipe for failure. I agree, they don’t work. But as I sit here, looking back on every reasonable weight loss plan I’ve ever been on, I must concede that they work. They all work. I would love to continue to fool myself and somehow blame the plans I’ve been on. It sucks to admit that I jumped on board with plan X, Y, or Z without researching it or giving real thought as to whether it would fit into my lifestyle. I hate admitting that I relied solely on the diet to fix me when we all know that obesity and the inability to overcome it is so much more than food. I didn’t give myself or create the tools to nurture long term success. It sucks even more that I know I was just too damn lazy or self defeatist to climb Mount Negativity in my brain and settle in the Valley of Self Worth, build a house and live there, happily ever after.

I never asked myself:

  • Am I following a diet that is conducive to good health and the goals I want to achieve?
  • Am I following a plan that will allow me to maintain a lifestyle that is appropriate for me and my family, long after I’ve met my goal?
  • Am I willing to put in the hard work required to maintain this lifestyle?
  • Am I choosing the plan that is right for ME?

What’s worse is I never held myself accountable for the way I treated my body. And I am not talking about mentally beating yourself up for having that candy bar or forcing yourself to run 15 miles because you shared an ice cream cone with your kid. (Or maybe you ate the whole thing yourself....while locked in the bathroom...hiding behind the shower curtain...and it wasn’t just a cone but a whole pint of Ben & Jerry’s. Whatever! I’m not talking about that!) What I am talking about is asking yourself what you really want in your life. What will make you happy? And what are you willing to do to get there?

I am holding myself accountable. I will not blame people, places or things for my failure to succeed and maintain my diet. I alone am in control of what I put into my body and the way it is treated. I’ve built my house in the Valley of Self Worth. Maybe once in a while we’ll vacation at Lake Pity Party but I will always come home to a place that nurtures success because now I know the way back home.

Where do you want to build your home?

Week one: -7 lbs
Week two: -5 lbs
Week three: -1 lbs
Week four: -3 lbs
Week five: -0 lbs (maintain on vacation)
Week six: -2 lbs
Week seven: -1.6 lbs
Week eight: -1.5 lbs
Week nine: -0 lbs le sigh. damn gravity!
Week ten: -3 lbs
Week eleven: -2 lbs
Week twelve: -1 lb
Week thirteen: -1 lb
Week fourteen: -2 lb
Week fifteen: -2 lb
Week sixteen: -1 lb
Week seventeen: -2 lb
Week eighteen: -2 lb (Holy shit y'all! I'm below pre-pregnancy weight!)
Week nineteen: -1 lb
Total: 38 lbs gone forever!

If you're interested in trying Medifast, I have a great deal for you! Use the code TURNIP50 to get $50 off an order of $275.
*FTC Disclosure: Medifast provides their products for my personal use for free. I am not paid or compensated in any other way for mentioning their products. All thoughts written here are mine. I love complaining so I would tell you if I didn't like something in the program. :)

~*Stephanie aka Goober Monkey*~
~*Erika aka Musings from a Stay at Home Mom*~
~*Jenni aka Jenni From the Blog*~
~*Censide aka Building Our Story*~
The Turnip Farmer | Designed by Momma Brown with art provided by Veronica from Scribbles in Ink.