Muddling through...

12 January:         19 January:       26 January:

height:     5'10"         5'10"                      5'10"  

weight:    231.5#      228# (-3.5#)      227.50# (-.50#)

body fat: 31.5%       32%   +.5%           30.50% (-1.50%)

water:      51%          51%                         54%

waist:      46.5"        46.5"                       46.25" (-.25")

chest:      47.5"        47"     (.50")          46.50"(-.50)

biceps:    14.5"        14"     (.50 ")         14.25" +.50

neck:       17"            17"                            16.50" (-.50)

Not much of anything pithy or erudite to say; down a half pound, down a couple half-inches in circumference. Kinda...flat-lining, I guess. But...I didn't BINGE when I had an unfortunate turn of events, at work. I didn't snap at my Princess, and I didn't pick up any of the OLD, old habits. I picked up the phone, told on myself, and got it DONE WITH. 

Blessings: 

1. I have one more piece of baseboard to paint and install in the new dining room, and then the finishing touches: pictures, documents, plants. Just the undersides of the kitchen cabinets and gourmet rack to paint, the new lighting to hang, the white brickwork to finish painting, and again, the finishing touches. Then, it's the upstairs hallway, and bathroom.  I am ENABLED, by God.
   
2. I have some new, SWEET pics of my son, and grandchildren, this week. Rita, where are YOUR pics, holding the kids? 
3. I have the talents of my heart and hands, that I can make kids smile; I can prepare food for my family and others; I can write!
4. I have my wife, sons, daughters, mothers and extended family that I love, and that love me. 
5. I'm getting stuff ACCOMPLISHED as our store's Inclusion Coordinator.
   
6. I'm still on the GREEN side of the grass. I'm still clean and sober.

By the way, I've been not only meat-free, but fish-free, as well. For about five days, now, heartbeat-free sustenance. Even took Dawnie on a date, Saturday, and was strictly vegetarian. Okay, not STRICTLY; I bit her on the neck...but just a little...

Heavenly Father, thank you for reminding me that a rut is just a coffin, with the ends kicked out. I have choices, and tonight, I choose gratitude. Tomorrow, I will choose a cheerful countenance, a professional mien, a manner of being which, if I were to meet myself as a stranger, I would enjoy being with me.

"...and when I was wrong, promptly admitted it."

It's been another week...I'm still watching what I eat (not just gazing as I graze) and I've begun to take on more water ballast. Lemme tell ya, Brothers and Sisters...just cramming in that extra 96oz of water makes for about a thousand extra steps per day, back and forth to the back'ouza. I'm seriously considering giving up asking God to "...grant me the serenity," and BUYING Serenities, instead. Hooo-EE! Anyway, here are the facts:

12 January:              19 January:

height: 5'10"            5'10"  

weight: 231.5#        228# (-3.5#) (-7.50#, total; 3.24%)

body fat: 31.5%      32%   +.5%

water: 51%               51%

waist: 46.5"             46.5"

chest: 47.5"             47"     (.5")

biceps: 14.5             14"     (.5")

Lost some weight, lost half an inch around the man-boobies (instead of Mae West, I'd rather look like Goldie Hawn, personally...) and some bicep circumference. BUT...the weight is making me happy, because that means that it's WORKING. Slips notwithstanding.

Yes, I said 'slips.' Sad to say, I've had a couple. Nights where I can't sleep, or something stresses me out so that I'm awake past that golden parenthesis of chemically-induced somnolence have always been a problem. Last night, it was my hand. Had surgery in October, and I'm POSITIVE that my surgeon did his best. Unfortunately, HE was only doing what he was able to do, given that the emergency room physician stepped all OVER his wanker when he treated me. He should have referred me to a specialist that night, instead of my having to have found out ten days later, after scar tissue had all but precluded a satisfactory surgical result. 

That being said, I snapped at the little lady last night, and ground my incisors in the bed for about an hour, until I decided to eat the last of the strawberries, and about a quarter of a cantaloupe before retiring to the couch. Rascal came to comfort me, and even THAT had no effect; no solace was to be found. Somewhere in there, the Ropinerole and the Trazadone bushwhacked me, and I slid into the fringes of rest, until that water issue came up again. So, I went BACK to bed, with my darling angel, and slept the rest of the night. But I had grazed. Good stuff, mind you...fruit is good...but at an inappropriate time, as an inappropriate response to an uncontrollable situation.

IAW the Tenth Step, when I got up this morning, I apologized to Dawn, but still feel like crap. a) because I snapped at her and Dyllan over something as completely STOOPIT as a disarticulated index finger, and b) because I let it get so far inside my head. Again...sorry, guys. I love you. 

Also, this week, I had Dawn work me up a smart, gradual weight-loss dietary plan. She is very fond of the American Diabetes Association diet, and calculated my needs to around 1900 calories. That all depends on timing, though, and lotsa diligence on my  part. I knew this weren't gonna be easy...my head just can't embrace it all, is all. Maybe the points system... 

Now, for the REALLY hard part: getting my silly butt in front of the boobless tube. Eating well isn't going to do it, completely. Shoot, that ONE TIME we walked around the big box-store was a BLAST. Back when I was a substitute teacher, Dawn and I would walk, up behind Orchard Family Health Care, regularly. It was fun. We'd walk, rest, have a snack... And, I can walk FOREVER, behind my pretty little wifey. The view is GREAT, lemme tell YOU. I should look up Richard Simmons' "Sweatin' to the Oldies," too, since he and I have so much in common: no taste in clothes, bad hair and a taste for that type of music. 

All joking aside, I have to look back at that Tenth Step again. I was wrong; I apologized to Dawn, I need to tell Dyllan, too. But...I have to forgive ME. I made a stupid choice. But, I made some serious SMART choices this week, too. I didn't graze the holiday buffet at work...FREE LUNCH, and yours truly didn't eat the cake, the cold cuts, the soda water...I held fast! I didn't hit the leftovers in the icebox ALL WEEK, until last night...and, I left the meat ALONE. (Momma's a little taken aback by it. I guess she hadn't noticed that I wasn't eating meat, for the last three weeks.)

I did good. I lost weight, lost an inch, and am taking positive, noticeable steps toward living longer, happier, healthier. Par example... Last night I made another seitan recipe. Rolled it into a sausage shape, boiled and simmered it, as per usual, and sliced it into a nice garden sauce I had made and let it simmer some more. Turned out pretty nice. Dawn was excited, because she had some left over to bring to lunch. I was excited because (until around midnight) I was actually FULL and satisfied, with what can be considered a normal portion.

*sigh*

Father God...Abba...Daddy...thank you for the serenity, courage and wisdom. I know that I'm still addicted to food. I always will be. I still have to walk the tracks. But, balancing on that rail, ready to dodge the next highballer, I know You've got my hand. I know You're watching over me, gently pointing out the good and the bad, allowing me the freewill, and rooting for my success as a man, a husband and a father. Thanks for all the plants and spices; thanks for the inspiration to cook them, and Daddy? Thanks for all the fish*

Week One...

Okay, here's the skinny...oh, my HELL, I kill me.

No, really, I am feeling good about 'me' today. Stepped on the scale, for the official 7th-day weigh-in, had the little Princess measure my strategic spots, and WINCE. But, it's all good. Here are the stats:

height: 5'10"

weight: 231.5

body fat: 31.5%

waist: 46.5

chest: 47.5

biceps: 14.5

Not pretty, IS it...?

This is the first week I've done all that. I just know what I weighed LAST week from visiting the Doc. Oh, yeah, THAT'S going well, too. He prescribed Trazadone, 50mg for sleep, and hoo-BOY!!! A full night's sleep, which has eluded me for Y E A R S seems to be in sight.

Again, full night's sleep = no grazing.

No grazing = no inappropriate calorie intake.

No inappropriate calorie intake = losing weight.

This is cool. I can't WAIT until NEXT week, to see how I'm progressing. But this isn't strictly about my sorry ass. I promised a certain little someone that I'd love, honor and obey 'til death do us part. Shortening that tenure with a knife, fork and spoon isn't exactly what God would consider 'good stewardship.' Remember, He had the chosen people following strict rules of dietary vigilance in the old testament. Musta been a reason, no? Also, the Twelfth Step says that, 'having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these (eleven previous) steps, try to carry this message to others, and practice these principals in all my endeavors.' I know that food isn't exactly the same as other addictions. It's the only one that requires the walking of the tracks...constant flirting with disaster...looking that monster in the eye, and holding its hand, REGULARLY. But, I'm taking the steps to walk more carefully, flirt less outrageously, and hold that monster's hand more gingerly, to live that longer life.

Now, I had shown the seitan I had made, in a previous post. Gotta get that recipe down mo' bettah. It was a wee bit salty, albeit wonderful in texture and flavor. Remembering that you can make this stuff taste like anything you want to, within limits, I said to myself...'salty?' Hmmm...I went to bed, thinking about that and woke up Sunday EXCITED... I went to the icebox, grabbed that leftover seitan from Saturday's dinner, and sliced off a few pieces...nice and thin...stirred them with liquid smoke, sauteed them and...FAKE BACON! Hard-fried an egg, slapped on a piece of smart cheese, the Facon, and bookended it all with two slices of whole wheat bread. Facon, Egg and Cheese as good as any diner I've ever graced.

This morning? I diced up some seitan, stirred in some sausage spices and sauteed it in olive oil. Tossed in a scrambled egg, some fat-free mild cheddar cheese, covered it, and turned off the stove (Energy saving note here: get your pan hot enough to sizzle a drop of water, do your sauteing, etc...and when the egg is dropped in and covered, turn off the stove. The residual heat of your ELECTRIC STOVE (Sorry, gas users...unless you have heavy-clad bottomed pans) will continue to cook your egg.) Small step, but a step, nonetheless. Used to be that my 'carbon footprint' had ingrown toenails. I'm trimming back. And the sandwich? Yeah, Baby...it was MONEY.

Now, you may notice that I'm sauteing a lot...saying "olive oil" and "walnut oil" and "grapeseed oil..." As I may have intimated, my darling wife is a nutritionist (okay, she has two more quarters until she gets certified, but what the hell, a nod is as good as a wink, right? If I'm drowning, I'm not gonna ask to see the CREDENTIALS of the guy that throws me a lifeline...) and DAWN says that olive oil, walnut oil and grapeseed oil are GOOD FATS..and good fats, in moderation are good FOR you. So THERE. Hey, NO good engine can run without lubrication. Fats help you absorb vitamins A, K, D and E. They also address the satiety centers in the brain, helping us to feel full and satisfied with our eating.

Stopped to go get tires on Dawn's car. Sauntered around the Big Box Store for a couple of hours...I shoulda made the effort to storm the place, like we did, two weeks ago...but it's no fun alone. Besides, when Dawn walks a little in front of me, the view from back here is SWEET...whatta CAN on that girl! I can follow her ANYwhere, Dude! Maybe I'll get this painting a little closer to finished, and get outside to take a pic or two, this afternoon. OUTSIDE...anything is better than my FORMER exercise regimen: I used to joke that 'pushing 55, jumping to conclusions, running my mouth and bending the truth' were exercise enough. Not so. Dawn, my phamily physician, my sleep studies physician, Dr. Mehmet Oz and everyone else seem to agree. Raise your core temp, your basic metabolic rate and your circulation for at least 20 to 30 minutes...and you'll sleep better, burn calories and fat, and make HEALTHY growth in your body, like muscle tissue. This, so I don't get discouraged in that the weight loss slows down. 'Cause I KNOW that someday, my body's gonna QUIT shedding the excess, and start going the other way, what with the healthier lifestyle and all.


Father God, thank you for the healthier choices. I don't need books, pamphlets, notes or articles. I KNOW this stuff! Now, I have to put it all together. As with the first seven years just being 'clean...' NOW I have to take action. Guide my hands, my feet, my heart, that I can continue to do what I need to do, to live a longer life, a more productive life...for my wife, our kids, and to Your greater glory. HOO-ahhhh! Go Team!

Seitan worship on Sunday morning...

Well, now...I'm seriously looking at my food. LOOKING at it. And, even though this has happened before, I'm looking more closely. I was grinding beef at work. I was looking at the trimmings, and aside from the MFA factor (mercy for animals movement: http://www.mercyforanimals.org/meet-mfa.aspx ) you really have to admit...it's kinda unpalatable. Think about it. Meat doesn't START in nice neat little packages, all shiny and plastic-wrapped, like you see it in the store. Meat comes in fur...on feet (oh, okay, dammit...HOOVES) with eyes and hearts and, to some extent or another, FEELINGS. I have a difficult time of it, sometimes. I try and justify it by comparing myself to Dr. Mallard, "Ducky," on NCIS. He doesn't like DEATH, but he loves his job. And, I like what I do. Really. But...it's part of the Machine. The farm factory Machine. And, sadly enough, it's not all 'ee-eye, ee-eye, OH."

I DO feel way better about eating veggies. Like, it's a CHALLENGE to get the daily requirement of calories and nutritional building blocks, without stopping a heart...mine, or some other animal's. Some scientific research indicates that plants have feelings, but I never HAVE had a plant as a pet. Well, ONCE. Meggie and I planted some orange seeds one time, and one actually SPROUTED. Yuppers, it did. Grew about four feet tall, shiny dark and green, with some SUPER thorns. Pretty, but I never wanted to sleep with it, like Mister Mittens, or Nanny-Cat. Anyway, I've been two complete days, now, without benefit of furry animal consumption. With the exception of a couple of tilapia fillets, it's all been vegetable based. Par example:

Friday

1. breakfast of milk, cereal and a couple apples
2. lunch of salmon with Mediterranean spices and light mayo, a spinach pie and a za'atar bread, both made from whole-kernel durum flour. 
3. dinner of Momma's vegetarian vegetable and Textured Soy Protein (http://www.bobsredmill.com/organic-textured-soy_protein.html)soup
4. a couple of cookies, and LOTSA skim milk during the day

Saturday

1. breakfast of a tilapia fillet LOADED with veggies and spices, (Dawn's recipe) hummus, an apple and skim milk
   
2. lunch of the REST of the tilapia and hummus, skim milk, an apple and an orange.
3. Dinner of seitan steak with sauteed mushrooms and onions, baked potato with some kinda smart butter-like spread, sauteed cabbage and bok choi with organic peanut butter/lime sauce, with blueberry tea. (I passed up a porterhouse dinner, on PURPOSE. I even COOKED it, for Mom and Dyll.)
   
4. night-time snack of a few cookies, with another glass of skim milk.

Now, see? I feel pretty darn good about all those menu choices, cookies and all, because NO blood was shed (save for that of the tilapia, and I'm seriously considering sea-life, too) and it DOES seem that I'm losing some kinda weight. What the hell, not grazing all night until I fall asleep HAS to have a benefit, nyet? 

Oh, yeah; I'm on a new medication, for sleeplessness. I take the usual Ropinerole for RLS, at 8:00 or so...or else I twitch like crazy, otherwise. But...this OTHER stuff seems to be working. At least, for now. Before I actually tag it, and have to recant my endorsement, I'll just wait and see. The IDEAL model is to remain on it, at lowest dose, until I get into an unaided sleep pattern, and then QUIT. Not quit sleeping, I meant quit taking the med. So, I'm sleeping almost all the way through the night, waking up for a fast biffy-call, because all that milk and water content has to go SOMEPLACE...and then pretty much immediately fall back to sleep. But I don't toss, turn, raid the icebox...OR, wake up with that damned 'food hangover' anymore! HOORAY! I mean, I gave up alcohol hangovers a few twenty-four hours ago...what the hell am I doing suffering from any OTHER kinda hangover, huh? Like I said, I HAVE the tools...one day at a time. 

One of my old online friends has been looking at my photo posts, on Facebook. She saw the seitan and said "Yuck." She said "Ralph!!!" Well, Kiddo, here's the deal: I have done SEVERAL things in my life, with which people may, or may NOT have agreed. When I quit my job at the hospital ($2.50/hour!!!) to become a medic...when I ETS'ed the Army to go to UTEP...when I left UTEP to go to the US DoD Language School...Sh%t, I've been raising eyebrows since 1957. And, I'm still alive. Now, not to hurt anyone's feelings, but I don't care if you like what I eat, or not. Each of us is entitled to our own opinion. Broadening of the horizons is an option, and if you choose to remain myopic, when eyeglasses are right there on the table, so be it. I'll send roses to your funeral. Mine is being postponed. 

I feel good. I'm taking steps to clean out my heart, my body. Maybe baby steps. It's PROGRESS, not PERFECTION. We are not saints. The point is, that we are WILLING to walk a straighter walk. And, can actually see my feet, without the help of a mirror. I started out, Tuesday, 5 January, 2010, at 236 pounds. Today, Sunday, 10 January, 2010, I weigh 230.5 pounds. Just from eating better. Maybe not smarter, I have to begin to actively track my calories and begin exercising to do all that. But, as I said, progress, not perfection.

Speaking of exercise, now it's time to go to Union Chapel. Every once inna while, yours truly gets Sunday off work, to be with the little lady, and it's my honor, my duty, my dream to be in church, singing the doxology with her.

Eat-iology of the Disease

Hi. My name is Steve, and I have an addictive nature. Thankfully, I'm in recovery from alcoholism. But food? Oh, man, I'm HOOKED. Bad. I'm 53 and overweight, with high blood pressure, hyperlipidemia, arthritis, hypothyroidism, insomnia, restless leg syndrome and sleep apnea.

In short, I'm a sleepy fat guy that walks funny and twitches. Perfect as a walk-on character in "Family Guy," but not as the life partner of a hot babe that's twelve years my junior, with a PLAN. Healthy lifestyle plan, that is. Her blog is "Lite of Dawn," and is pretty good. And, it's WORKING for her. The blog, AND her plan. My plan? Well...let's just look at the title of this blog.

Graze Anatomy. That's me. I'm not an emotional eater. I only eat when I'm happy. Or, sad. Or, bored. Or when the day ends in 'y.' I eat like I drank. Just because.

Good day? Celebrate. Bad day? Bury it. Angry day? Stuff it. Flatline day? Graze.

I graze. I can walk into a room, and SEE the food. HEAR the food. The grocery store is like a pornography shop to me. The Food Network? Same thing, only more EXOTIC. I don't have to be hungry. It's Pavlovian. I've become instantly responsive to the presence of food, and I can't rest until the last leftover has been eaten, the last crumb of cookie or cake has been consumed.

Speaking of rest, and hours of sleep, as they're known in the medical world, that's when the urge is the most INSAAAAAAANE. How's THIS: I take half of the prescribed dosage of my restless leg syndrome medication at roughly 8:30pm, so I can sit still through the nightly TV routine. Somewhere around 10pm, we head off to bed. Or, in my case, the computer, where I play, sleeplessly, for hours, until my poor little Sugar rolls over for the ten ZILLIONTH time, finally asking if she can turn off the lights. After twelve years of being online, I STILL can't type without looking at the keyboard, so I have to throw the CPU on scan, and turn off the monitor. I take the OTHER half of my ropinirole, my zolpidem tartrate and the rest of my pharmacopoeia, and roll into bed. I strap on my CPAP...and then lie there.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting for sleep.

Not good. First thing that goes out the window (almost literally) is the CPAP. For the first few months, it worked well. Now, it makes me feel like I'm gasping for air. I can't even get through the 'ramp-up' stage, where it goes from a moderate amount of pressure to fully-prescribed pressure. Then, I turn over...and over and over. Poor Rascal and Mister Mittens. They're two of our five cats that sleep on the bed, when it's not a tornado of sheets and feet. They try valiantly to avoid being kicked off the bed, climbing over to Dawn's side, jumping on a dresser...nothing saves them from the wrath of my restlessness until I get out of bed, grab two pillows and my old robe, and scuff off to the family room couch. Where I toss and turn some more.

Then, it happens. I hear it. I FEEL it: the icebox calling me, whispering to me, like Poe's telltale heart..."I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!"

I go upstairs, open said icebox...delicately poking as a surgeon on an exploratory mission. Soon, I'm not just tasting this or that by the spoonful, but gorging. Empty that container of cottage cheese...add some honey, a few walnuts; whoa, there's a bratwurst or two that no one will miss. Oooooh! LOOK! Potato chips on the counter! And so on.

A variation of this is to quietly get dressed in my painting clothes, get out the roller pan and roller, stir up some paint and roll a couple of walls. We're remodeling the kitchen, dining room and bathroom, and this puts my insomnia to good use. But, all the while, I have tea and cookies, or something like the cold, leftover pork roast from New Year's day dinner, in slices on a plate. Roll...nibble. Stir...nibble. When I'm embarrassed, overfull and very ashamed, I go back to the couch and finally, almost tearfully, some mornings, I find sleep.

Like I said, I graze. I have a graze anatomy. I even look like a Holstein: All gut, no butt.

It's time to stop laughing at it, as my life-partner says, and start DOING something about it. Last night, I was as sleepless as ever, but didn't paint. But, I didn't graze, either. Well...not much. I had half a cup of white beans and tomatoes...two glasses of milk and one teaspoon of honey. I watched TV. I slept three or four times, had one SUPER nightmare...but I didn't whack that pork roast, or the cookies in the garage icebox.

In AA, we have steps. One involves recognition of our powerlessness over the substance of choice. Another involves believing that a higher power (personally, my higher power is God) will restore us to sanity. Another involves our turning our will and our lives over to this higher power, and another strongly suggests prayer and meditation as an avenue to maintaining said sanity. Here goes:

Father God, I am POWERLESS over my eating habits, and it's gonna kill me someday: Suicide on the installment plan. I know you have my heart in Your hands, and will NOT let me fail, if I trust You. Give me this day my daily bread, I pray, and ask You to help me be satisfied with that portion. I pray your assistance, in the form of encouragement by my wife and friends, to make a plan and stick with it, set a goal and meet it, make a mistake and learn from it. By the power of your Son's death and resurrection, I pray. Amen.