Started the day with an apple and nuts. Two hours later another apple and nuts. (I know - but my cupboards were bare) Then sliced turkey and raspberries and green peppers. Then nuts (I know!) and green peppers and I'm looking at my final meal - a bowl of strawberries. Tomororw I'll have less fruit and more protein and veggies. That's part of the plan. Drank a lot of water and walked for over two miles. So - yes, yes and yes. Day one - doing good. And feeling good. No guilt, no remorse, no sugar dizzies, no stuffed stomach. I've got a clipboard in the kitchen with a check sheet on it and an eating plan for the day. So tomorrow - six small meals, water and a walk. Sounds doable. Definitely do-able.

There is something about the end of summer and the beginning of school - even if you don't go to school anymore - that is motiviating. Like New Year's Eve. A new beginning. A chance to begin anew - with a fresh plan and fresh enthusiasm. So, here I go again. I have a big birthday coming up in mid-November. Not saying which one, but it's big. And I have a doctor's appointment coming up in early October. And if you've been reading this blog you know that I am stuck in neutral. Five up, five down, five up, five down. Stuck. So I am unsticking myself today in hopes that I will be below 200 at the doc's and comfortably below 200 for that birthday. And the way to do that is to return to the most successful plan I have ever been on. Snagged from the internet it is simply eating six small meals a day, exercising, and drinking water. Sounds easy, right? The meals are made up of veggies, fruits and proteins. I'm going to stay away from bready carbs for a while as they seem to be a slippery slope for me. A few crackers turns in to too many. Bread turns into 'how about some butter on that?' So no carbs till I've got my tummy and my brain rewired - again. And no alcohol. I've already alerted my immediate crew that my bar order is going to be water with lemon. It looks like a vodka drink and that should satisfy those small minded people who seem to give me a hard time if I'm not joining in by having a drink. I can have just as much fun sober as I can under the influence - seriously - I know I can. So eliminating alcohol is no problem at all for me. Eliminating sugar and bread - not so easy. So I've weighed myself - up a lot. I've recorded that on my diet clipboard that will be housed in my kitchen. I've planned my breakfast - fruit and protein. And I willl be eating today at 8, 10, 12, 2, 4, and 6. Six little meals. And my biggest hope is that I will remember to breathe - in through the nose, out through the mouth (kind of like childbirth!!!) whenever I am tempted to do a cupboard search or a frige search or an other people's kitchen search or a 7/11 stop, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. Just breathe. And by taking the time to breathe, hopefully my common sense will kick back in and I will remember that I am not truly hungry - just mouth and eyes hungry - and that if I wait a tiny little two hours, I will get to have a pretty little plate full of veggies and fruits and proteins. And all the water I want. Water for all my friends!!!
And the exercise. It's right there on my journal sheet. I've got space to record my weight, space to record my intake, space to record my water, and space to record my exercise. Last week I was doing some cleaning;hoeing out and found a brand new never been opened pilates kit including a book, a DVD and an exercise band. So that's my plan for today. A session with the band. Nothing better than pilates for alllover toning which I am in desperate need of. And perhaps I'll get my sneakers to take me for a walk. Here's my little hint for a long walk - if you pop a piece of gum in your mouth before you start it somehow makes your breathing easier. It helps to keep your mouth from drying out with all that gasping for air you do when you're newly back into it. Which I am, again.
So here's to me and the new program and to my birthday - 79 days from today!

I've had a great eating day today. Nice veggie omelet at my favorite diner. Yum.  Love breakfast out. Love not having to cook. Love to people watch and read the paper while I have my yummy breakfast. Love an unhurried breakfast in a casual place. Lunch was apple slices and wheat thins.  And dinner was chicken and veggies. Great day.
But here is what I want right now. Ice cream. Probably chocolate. But maybe vanilla with hot fudge. Maybe chocolate with reeses peanut butter cups in it. Maybe a trip to the grocery store to stand over the freezer with all the Ben and Jerry's - stand there and consider each flavor. Read the list of ingredients. Not the calories label - but the list of what is in the ice cream. Which candy, which nut, which syrup. Get my favorite spoon. Sit in my favorite chair. And start scooping. Right into my mouth. Something about cold icecream with hot fudge on it. Your mouth doesn't know which thing to like first. There's the mmmmmmm and then the other mmmmmmm.
That's what I want to do. Really want to do.
But here is what I am going to do. Go out to my kitchen and look through the cupboards and decide whether or not to have a bowl of raspberries - their own nice little mouth explosion-surprise - or have some Coco Pops. They are these large frisbee looking things that are only 16 calories a piece. They sort of taste like paper - (they're made out of wheat flour, rice flour and corn flour and sea salt.) but it feels good to hold a big thing in your hand and know you can eat the whole thing.  Based on today's calories I could actually have both.
Do raspberries and cocopops have the same fantasy dream like aura for me? No. But they also won't immediately become part of the cottage cheese on my butt or my thighs. They won't artificially elevate my blood sugar level. They won't make me feel guilty and sad.
I can spend the night with berries and cocopops and still respect myself in the morning.

The other night I was at an outdoor cabana bar on the lake with a group of friends and I was introduced to a woman in her late twenties. First impression - pleasant looking, on the thinnish side. Closer inspection: What's with the puffy tummy going on? Even closer: What's with the arms? Hanging off of her upper arms was a long drooping swag of loose skin. The arms themselves - without the swag - were thin. But this stuff looked almost like bat wings. It hung down several inches. She was wearing a tank top and every time she gestured those bat wings would swing back and forth. When her arms rested at her sides, the skin sort of fell down and pooled around her elbows. I watched the people around me who - like me - were having trouble not looking at this woman's arms. And of course the poofy tummy - which did not match the rest of her - was probably made up of a whole bunch of loose skin smashed into her pants.
Eventually one of the people who was there told me that she used to be over 300 pounds and had had stomach stapling - or some such procedure and had dropped two hundred pounds. And had dropped them relatively quickly. And was then left with these arm flaps and stomach flaps. And yet there she was at the bar in her tank top chatting away with other people with her arms on display - having what seemed to me to be a very good time.
Now, I have to admit that that same night I had had what I call a clothing explosion in my bedroom. Every woman knows what I mean by this. I had planned to wear a particular outfit - but when I put it on and looked in the mirror - I didn't like what I saw. Which was a stomach lump showing. An upper above the waist stomach lump. So I tore off the outfit and threw it on the floor and put something else on and -after a look in the mirror - threw it on the floor along with several other skirts and tops all of whom hit the deck with increasing fury simply because they didn't pass whatever standard I had set in my mind before I looked at my reflection in that mirror. But what about this woman? She must have looked in the mirror before she went out. She must have been aware that those under arms were swinging, that that stomach was pooching out. And yet, she went out anyway. With her friends who obviously could care less about her loose skin. She had a good time. She wasn't focused on what her underarms looked like. Maybe instead of criticizing herself when she looks in the mirror, maybe she tells herself how proud she is of the progress she has made. Maybe she thanks herself for lowering her cholesterol and blood pressure and risk of diabetes.
It was truly a humbling experience for me. When I went home, my clothes were still scattered all over my floor. A sign of a pretty spoiled person. Instead of being happy to have  a choice of outfits, happy to have lost over sixty pounds, happy to be healthier than I've been in years, happy to be more active than I've been in years - all I could focus on was a slight imperfection.
I think I need to be a whole lot kinder to the woman in my mirror. And I need to remember what is truly important and what is only skin deep.