Food for Thought

QUICK! Point your browser in the direction of the Light & Tasty Recipe Finder

This great new recipe finder has some awesome search capabilities. For example, I can call up recipes that are lower in carbs, higher in protein, lower in fat and are diabetic friendly. You can also search by how many grams of protein you want, how many calories per serving, etc. If you use the advanced search, you can put in the ingredients you have on hand and it gives you recipes you can make. And you can tell it how many servings you need.

The recipes come from a few different cooking magazines, including Taste of Home, Quick Cooking and Cooking for 2, in addition to Light & Tasty. You might have heard of the magazines...they don't carry any advertising.

If you sign up for FREE (basically, just give them your email) you can save your searches, make a shopping list, create your own recipe box and also access their contest recipes.

I think what I like best about this site compared to other recipe sites like All Recipes is that ALL of the recipes at Light & Tasty have actually been prepared and tasted by people (including dietitians) in the their test kitchens. Some recipe sites are basically crapshoots when it comes to what's on them. You never know if they'll turn out.

Oh, one other thing: they have makeover recipes. I know this is a regular feature in the magazine, but you can actually see what the "fat girl" recipe is before and how their test kitchen made it "skinny".

Check out my favorite recipe: Maple Salmon When I made it, I didn't do the couscous. And instead of regular maple syrup, I used sugar-free. And I used the fresh minced garlic you buy in the store instead of a garlic clove. It was awesome!

Let me know what you think!

Satchel Ass

Don't ask me what it is, but today Rose informed me that I have a Satchel Ass and I was wearing Satchel Pants. WAH???? I think it was her way of telling me my pants are baggy and my ass ain't fillin' out the folds.

My new bra from 2 weeks ago is now too big for my ever shrinkin' boobs. I'm going to get some of those fake things and start wearing them.

I have my 3 month follow-up with my surgeon the day after tomorrow. I took the afternoon off so I can come home and change into lightweight clothes. How dumb is that? I've lost over 70 pounds in the last 3 months. So what difference will any extra 3 pounds in clothes make? I know, I know. It is stupid. But I still get that same anxious bile rise in my throat (minus the actual bile) everytime I get on a scale and someone else will read the result.

Also called today to try to schedule an appointment with a shrink I want to see. Of course, she closed her appointment books 3 weeks ago and isn't taking any new patients now. So I called and left a message on her voice mail. Maybe my pathetic charm will inspire her to make an exception for me. She'll WANT to spend an hour with me every week just because I'm so witty! Yeah, right.

And finally, I got a new job. Same company. Different position. Great move for me. Unfortunately, the change can't happen until 1/3. It'll be a LONNNNNGGGGGG December!

Open the flood gates and let the food in!

What a crappy food day. From the moment I woke up, I've been thinking about food. Every kind of food. When I can eat. How much I can eat. Wondering what would happen if I eat a scone or a candy bar.

I started out with the best intentions. I drank about 6 ounces of water when I got up. I suck at getting in water. Drinking sucks. If I'm not thirsty, I do not want to drink.

For breakfast I had a South Beach Cereal Bar. Maple Nut. Yum. Then I had a cup of wretched, disgusting decaf coffee. Well, I was going to have a cup. But it was so nasty I tossed it. I miss caffeinated coffee. Decaf tastes like someone sprinkled hot water with used grounds. I used to roast my own beans. I still have about 10 pounds of green beans. But they aren't decaf. I could buy some, but will they taste even half as good as regular? Probably not.

So by mid morning I decided I wanted a snack. I wasn't hungry, just wanted to crunch. So I had some flat wheat cracker thing. 2 of them. And a slice of cheese.

Then we went to lunch at our friend's gallery. Had a crab cake. 3 oz. Tasted Rose's scrambled eggs, tasted her cantaloupe, tasted a corner of her cinnamon coconut scone. I WANTED MORE!

When we got home, I started in on the water again. Slow going. Then a couple hours later I ate the rest of my fake pumpkin pie pudding. And at that point, I could have opened the fridge and shoveled every last damn bit of food in my mouth. So I left the house.

Obviously, I'm back home again. But I'm heading up to my art room. Yep, there's a refrigerator up there. But it only has a couple bottles of water and a quart of 6-week-old grape koolaid. Busy hands. That's what I need.

I hate the weekends and the lack of structure for me. The work week with its meetings and projects and BS keep my mind away from food. I focus on what I should focus on. I guess I'm glad tomorrow's Monday.

Burning Ring of Fire

That Johnny Cash song is running through my head. And as I hear that first line "I fell into a burning ring of fire," I have this weird memory of walking through the toy section at a Kmart when I was about 8 or 9 years old. I know, I know. I AM a freak.

And speaking of freaks...I joined a webring. I got an email from the kooky chick (hey Dona!) and she asked if I wanted to join hers. You'll find a link at the bottom of the page. Keep scrolling down. (Wait, finish reading this first!)

I love the name and descriptions: Sassy Ladies of WLS. More sass. Less ass.

Dona's blog is great! She just added a forum and a live chat feature. (She says you can curse on the forum, but I haven't tried it yet.) And she posts some of her favorite MP3s. That inspired me to start an ipod playlist I'm calling Fat Girl Songs. I'll take any recommendations to add to my list.

Eat Me!

It's my first post-op feast and here's what's on the menu in our house:

• Turducken
• Garlic Parmesan Smashed Potatoes
• Tri-Color Yams
• Green Bean Casserole
• Fake Pumpkin Pie

Since I'm eating limited portions this year, I thought I'd try some different things. The Turducken is Rose's idea. She was watching Paula Dean on the Food Network and told me about it. So she called the Milwaukee Public Market and found that they made them up there. Our is small, but it should suffice.

The potatoes are my own recipes. Red potatoes boilded with the skins on, mashed up with a fork, gobs of garlic and some parm thrown in. Maybe a little cream if it needs it.

I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with the sweet potatoes. I just thought it was cool that they came in 3 colors.

Now for the pie, I pulled this recipe off some WLS site somewhere. And it's so-so. It's made with SF pudding and pumpkin. For some reason, you can really taste the fake sweetener. Whatever. I'm going to eat it anyway. Or at least a couple bites of it.

Our friend Dyan is coming over and bringing the GB Casserole. It's a first for us. Having someone over, that is. Usually we visit my parents for TGD, but my dad's in Florida and my mom's going to my brother's in-laws. Tomorrow we'll head up for a need meal at my brother's house.

I had been wondering if I'd feel like I was missing out on something this year when it came to Thanksgiving. But I don't really feel like that now. I'm having more fun, believe it or not, coming up with food combos. If I'm going to eat it, it better be good.

So happy turkey day to all the big girls out there! I'm off to peel some yams! Gobble gobble.

Go ahead, pull me over!

It's finally happened. I now weigh less than my driver's license.

I'm going to go buy some liquor at a Pick-n-Save just so I can get carded. I might even scratch my signature off all my credit cards so I get asked for ID every time I use them.

I just want to hear those magic words, "That doesn't even look like you!" Or, "You'll have to wait a moment, please, Ma'am" as they rush to the backroom to call the police because they think I'm an identity thief. How cool would that be?

To mark this significant victory, I did a ton of shopping this weekend. I took my mom to Schaumburg, Illinois. It's the capitol of consumerism and an easy drive from Milwaukee. I left with 4 sweaters, 2 tank tops, a couple bras, 2 pairs of jeans, a leopard print jacket, 2 blouses and 16 pairs of socks. And yes, the smallest size I bought was an 18/20 that was just about this far [--------------] from closing. I nearly teared up when I realized that the damn thing just about fit. Of course I had to buy it.

Yesterday I wore my sassy new, non-elasticized waist jeans with a sassy magenta T and a sassy sweater. You might say I was sassy. And damn, did I feel great! Today it's back to the old stretch jeans. But not for long.

This last week all my underwear suddenly became too big. So after work yesterday I had to pick up some new things. One puzzling question: why would fat girls want to wear panties that a) let their fat rolls hang out or b) get lost in the fat rolls? Even if I ever weigh 125 pounds, I am not wedging a thong up my ass crack.

Great Week

While work has been exceptionally busy and I've got a stamping workshop and a stamping class to prepare for this week, life is pretty dang good. The scale has been sliding down on a regular basis for several days now and I think that within the next week I'll have hit another goal.

Now this is the kind of weightloss I dreamed about: little work, loads of compliments and lots of results. I'm sure that this streak of good fortune will slow sometime soon and I'll probably hit a plateau just after Thanksgiving. Someone will just have to remind me how great I felt this week!

Just a Quickie

Yesterday was a visit to my PCP. My blood pressure is normal. My heart sounds fine. Doctor's scale weighed the same as mine at home.

Today I went to see the pulmonary specialist as a follow-up to a pre-surgery sleep study. They had put me on a cpap machine, but today she agreed to cancel the order. Of course, I hated using the freakin' thing. But I hardly snore now.

Next week is open enrollment for insurance. Actually looking forward to less $$$ going into the FSA because my medicine consumption is basically nil. That's an extra $1,000 in my pocket for 2006. Not bad, hmm?

The Real Me

One thing that appeals to me about blogging is the anonymity of it. I can basically be whoever I want on this page. Some people have asked if the Shrinking Violet photo is really me. No, it's not. It's some cool pic I lifted off another site. This is a photo of me, posing for the camera at work.

Some days the real me is what I think a skinny person would be like. I don't compulsively think about food. I don't use food to fill an emptiness. I don't punish myself for eating/not eating. It's what I want my normal to be like.

But most days I feel fat and helpless and at the mercy of food. I think about food more than my significant other. I spend more time planning my meals than I do planning my work. And I get pissy because my head wants more than my stomach can handle.

It irritates me how much I let my surroundings, my acquaintances, my circumstances control my food. I'm not saying that as an excuse. What I mean is that if I'm pissed at my boss and feeling out of control in a situation, I let myself get that way with food. If I'm feeling bored and anxious, I calm myself with food. If I'm frustrated and fed up, I feed myself. I know none of these things are the agents for my destructive eating. But I obviously haven't yet learned how to cope with it--what really maeks me not face upt to my emotions.

When I picture myself, I see my reflection in a McDonald's window. Fat chick with tartar sauce dripping off her chin because she can't get that Filet o Fish stuffed in her face fast enough. Even though I can't eat that stuff now, I still long for it. And I want to protect that fat chick smothered in tartar sauce. Because basically she's probably a pretty cool person who just doesn't like herself enough on the inside. So maybe if the outside changes, the inside will follow.

Ketchup

Since my exercise marathon on Wednesday and my night of no sleep, I've been playing catch up. On Friday morning I attempted a treadmill walk and lasted about 2 minutes before my legs screamed in agony. I just got on a bit ago and did .25 miles, which was a lot better. Obviously, I need to work into the whole exercise routine. As long as I keep trying and don't just let the treadmill gather dust.

I went out shopping by myself yesterday. I fit into a size 24 jeans with a low-cut rise and a regular waistband. Did I buy them (or anything)? No. There's now way I'm going to wear jeans that barely reach my belly button--and that's even when my belly button hangs 6 inches lower than the average person's. Who the hell thinks of these fashion things? The pants feel like they are going to slide off. And if you pull them to a point where you feel like your butt crack won't show, you get a major grundy.

Here's another thing that really irked me: why does the denim ahve to look like you just got done rubbing the fabric with dirt? I hate that grungy, pulled from the bottom of the laundry pile look. And it really iritates me that now that I can pretty much walk into a Wal-mart or Target to buy clothes, the only clothes that they carry are like thrift store rejects.

I also tried on bras. None of mine really fit that well anymore. And a bra's not like a t-shirt. It's kind of hard to wear them too big. I have never worn an underwire because my fat rolls just made it too uncomfortable. So I decided to find one and try it. Sad, sad, sad. My boobs have shrunk enough that any bra I could find that fit the girth did not fit the girls. Let's just say that my boobs now permanently resemble what they look like in the mamogram machine. And that Hallmark chick named Maxine, she ain't got nothing on my low-flying chest.

On a lighter note, my closet is emptying out. I pulled another 8 tops from the rack to add to the 5 boxes of clothes I've already yanked. I'm definitely not going back to those clothes. I have, however, yet to throw out any jeans. That's going to be a long-time coming--at least until the fashion world comes to its senses.

I should be sleeping

The good news is that I finally got on the treadmill tonight and walked .75 miles in about 20 minutes. The bad news is that I did it at 8 p.m. tonight and now I'm wide awake.

I watched The Biggest Loser from last night and figured if those people could huff and puff and jiggle on national television, I could get off my couch potatoe butt and walk awhile in the privacy of my own home.

I usually do better with music when I'm walking. I have this weird thing where I count to myself as I walk and music keeps me from doing that. Not that counting is bad, it's just goofy. Since my treadmill is close to the computer, I opened up iTunes radio and found a high-energy dance station from Europe and jumped on the machine. I had already walked 7 minutes before I realized I made it past 5 minutes. Plus, I had to walk at a pace that kept up with the beat of the music. So I pushed myself there, too.

By the time I decided to stop, I had gotten my heart rate up to 147 for at least 10 of my 20 minutes of walking. I think that's pretty good, considering I willingly did it and not because of having to walk up 2 flights of stairs.

Of course, right now I'm motivated to do this every day, though I think morning might be better timing for me. Just not this morning (which it is already). I should be waking up in about 5 hours. I just hope I get to sleep before then.

To shrink or not to shrink?

I'm pretty certain that I need to find myself a therapist--and soon. I've been freakishly crazy the last couple of weeks, sometimes feeling like I'm Julie Andrews twirling around the picturesque Alps and other times wishing I could start my hair on fire.

I think my emotions are riding a little rocky because I'm dealing with:

1. losing my long-time friend and confidante called food
2. a body that changes virtually overnight
3. hearing over and over again the same flippin' question: how much weight have you lost?
4. insecurity about when the bottom of this whole thing is going to fall out
5. fear about being a failure...again
6. impatience with not losing weight fast enough (yes, I know, direct conflict with point #2)
7. blah, blah, blah.

I tried the therapist thing several years back when I had lost a lot of weight and knew I had to face up to all the crap in my head. That shrink told me that I was depressed (no duh, I was 100+ lbs overweight and hated myself--BUT WHY???) and that I needed to treat the depression before I could do therapy. I only saw her twice.

I wish there was some kind of guidebook for picking out a decent therapist that matches what you want. Problem is, I don't know exactly what I want. I suppose someone to challenge me and make me work. Someone who would really push me to move past my normal smart ass comments. Someone who would make me answer truthfully. But how do you actually FIND a person?

Last weekend a therapist came and spoke with my WLS support group. It was the 2nd time I heard her speak. And she actually was the same person who did my psych eval. She had great energy that seemed a bit overwhelming (not a bad thing) and the way she acted/spoke/responded made me feel a little sick to my stomach. I think that's a good thing. But a lot of people in the room had a very negative reaction to her. I suppose, though, that that shouldn't bother me. I think I'm going to call and see if I can get an appointment. In case that doesn't work out, I'll take the resumes of any good shrinks in the Milwaukee area. I'll worry about insurance later.