Refuse To Regain

"After the happy ending" - A Guest Blog by "DietGirl" Shauna Reid

Refuse To Regain is honored to be a part of Shauna Reid's virtual book tour! She blogs at DietGirl and "The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl" was just released in the U.S.

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"After The Happy Ending"
 
My first year of maintenance was easy. I think I cruised through on euphoria alone. Every day in my new body was an adventure - I rejoiced in my new clothes, new fitness and new ability to fit inside bathtubs.
 
Later that year I finished writing a book that charted my six-year, 175-pound weight loss journey. I was still giddy with excitement as I churned out the Epilogue. My body is something to savor and celebrate, I wrote. Every time I put on lipstick and high heels it feels like I'm singing to world about the joy I've found within.
 
The second year was a different story. Everything was messy and unpredictable. I was simultaneously renovating our apartment, starting a demanding new job and promoting my book in the UK and Ireland. I also took on big fitness challenges, such as training for kickboxing grades and a marathon walk. As the year dragged on there were personal issues and a serious financial scare, then we sold our apartment and moved house.
 
As a result my maintenance efforts were chaotic. I'd alternate weeks of intense exercise with weeks of nothing at all. I'd buy takeout too often then go crazy with healthy cooking to compensate. I wrestled the same ten pounds all year long, pinging up and down the scale. Instead of high heels and celebrations, it was more brooding on the couch in my sweatpants.
 
Meanwhile, my inbox was flooded with messages from people who'd read my book. You're such an inspiration! You're living the happy ending! You must be so proud! I didn't feel proud or inspiring. Sure I've lost a few pounds but look at me now! I'm barely holding it together! If those kind readers knew how much I struggled, they'd demand a refund! I felt like a fraud as I answered their email questions about my exercise program, instead of actually doing my exercise program. I made jokes about my woes on my blog, not wanting to alienate readers new and old with too much doom and gloom. But the negativity crept in. I spoke about maintenance with words like "struggle" and "battle" and "never-ending stinkfest".

There were times when I could have cheerfully burned my book. I bugged the heck out of myself with my optimism and irritating self acceptance. I was just plain jealous of Book Shauna, to be honest. I could barely believe that was me who'd lost all that weight and stuck at it for so many years. How did I start wanting change more than chocolate? That determined girl seemed like a stranger and I worried I'd never find her again.

The third year of maintenance was rapidly approaching and I was desperate to make it different. It was a lot like the start of my weight loss mission - I thought someone else must have the secret. I started reading blogs written by fellow maintainers, such as this one. I stalked through their archives, looking for magic solutions. But instead of magic, I read about hard work and persistence; the ability to learn from mistakes and pick yourself back up after a crappy day. Or even a crappy month or year.

I finally had my DUH moment. Maintenance was really no different from weight loss. Sometimes it is fabulous and sometimes it sucks. And that's okay.

I think part of me thought that writing THE END on my manuscript would mean The End of the struggle and The End of learning stuff. Surely after six ridiculous years of lard-busting I'd have figured out my Issues for good? But life doesn't stop when you close a book. The story plows on, the character keeps evolving. Holding on to that happy ending is hard work.

A few months on I feel at peace with the realities of maintenance. I'm starting to live and breathe that happy ending again, albeit without the delirium of the first year! Life is still stupidly busy, but I remembered the best thing I learned in the weight loss phase - the journey is easier when you make it enjoyable. Last year I was falling back into the arms of my old dieter's mindset - all or nothing thinking, expecting perfection, dwelling on mistakes and not savouring the good stuff. But now I want to celebrate how far I've come, instead of feeling overwhelmed by it or taking it for granted. Maintenance doesn't seem like such a drag when I take time out to find the joy in the little things. The peacefulness of a Pilates stretch. The gleeful clobbering of my kickboxing class. The wholesome smugness of a healthy day's eating. I'm ready to dust off those high heels and lipsticks.

Guest Blog: Want to Keep It Off? It's All About the Focus. By Alyson Mead

When I first came to meditation, around 13 years ago, I thought I was a pretty focused person.  During the day, I held down a job as a book editor, wrote at night, and juggled freelance assignments for various magazines and web sites in between.  Yay me.

But as I began to meditate, and read about what happens to the mind when we endlessly multitask, this "skill" didn’t seem so cool anymore.

At first, meditation just seemed like a good way to calm my over-stimulated mind.  Friends love to tease me about how many books I'm reading, or how many tasks I can take on (and accomplish) in record time.  I've also been an insomniac since childhood, and hoped meditation would help me sleep.

As meditation became part of my everyday life (a non-negotiable 15+ minutes was quickly added to my schedule), I saw my concentration improve.  I slept better, with fewer interruptions. There was a tiny gap in my experience, not terribly big yet, but there all the same. In that gap, I saw the beginnings of spaciousness, that wide-open sense of suspended time I needed to make life's important decisions. The mental equivalent of counting to ten (or ten thousand), I suppose.

I also saw, as I struggled with my body through diets and militaristic workout routines, that carrying extra weight was, in essence, a reflection of how much engagement, or lack thereof, I had in my life at any given moment. In other words, how much I could focus on the needs of my body, mind, emotions and spirit at the same time. Aha!  Maybe it wasn't enough to simply crank through life at top speed.  (Cut me some slack, OK?  I lived in New York City at the time.)

It's no secret that we live in a copiously multitasking world. Some of my students even believe they can't escape it, and silently give in.  Usually, the only sign they have that this has happened is a vague (or sometime not so vague) feeling of frustration and anger that follows them everywhere.  Technically, though, the brain can't multitask (I know, tell that to the busy mother, or the businessperson, or the air traffic controller). What it does, instead of performing two tasks at once, is choose one thing to focus on, and move the second thing to the back burner.  In other words, we're always engaged in a push-pull relationship between engaging and disengaging, since we're constantly refocusing our attention. This results in a pretty serious lack of focus.

What does this all have to do with weight loss, you ask?  A lot, as it turns out.

Unless there's a mitigating circumstance, such as illness, injury or reaction to medication, gaining and carrying extra weight is a outward manifestation of how disengaged we have become in our lives. Slowly, without noticing it, we lose touch with our senses first, forgetting to taste our food, to notice the sensual feeling of fabrics on our skin, to bring our awareness to the dancing sparks in our children's eyes.

We may feel that we're doing ourselves a favor, by "getting things done." But we're really pretending our own needs – for nutrients, sleep, water, attention, exercise and good old-fashioned creative stimulation – don't exist.   Soon, the pounds start to creep on, and we pretend they don't exist, either.  And one day, something comes into our experience to shock us back to reality.  We wake up to find ourselves overweight, or obese, and need to address the problem sooner rather than later.

The natural impulse, from there, is to add shame to the already-confusing mix of emotions. Many popular diet plans and television programs (you know who you are!) utilize shame as a powerful weapon to make the overweight person toe the line, or achieve the officially sanctioned weight and shape.  This is disastrous for people who want to lose weight consciously, and keep it off for any length of time.

If you've ever trained an animal, you know that the most humane way is through the use of positive reinforcement. This means that if a desired result is achieved, a positive reinforcement is added (a reward, in other words). This causes that response to be repeated and even strengthened through time.

So every time my dog obeyed a command, I gave her a treat.  Soon, she was able to sit or lie down with no treat, or just a fond pet on the head. She was happier and less confused about what I wanted.  I got her to sit at the front door, so she wouldn't race outside and get run over.  Everybody won.

The interesting thing, to me, is that we don't treat ourselves as well as we treat our pets.  Instead, we believe that we're not capable of making positive changes in our lives, and that we need to be reminded, or hounded, or shamed into making better choices.   If we actually began to make these changes, though, and gave ourselves that little bit of space and perspective to do so, we might actually find that the results themselves were their own reward.

 I know, no drama at all.  How boring! 

Which brings us back to meditation. When we sit down to meditate, we're telling ourselves that we're worthy of attention, of knowledge and most of all, respect.  We cast shame aside and cultivate tolerance for ourselves.  We learn to accept, not so we can become disconnected again, or fall into unhealthy habits, but so we can be realistic about our lives, and informed about our choices. When we label our thoughts, by saying "thinking" to ourselves, we're not trying to cast them out. We're calling a thought a thought.  We're robbing it of its power to run way with us, and make us more reactive to outside forces. 

When we're less reactive, we don’t eat mindlessly.  We have that tiny gap in our experience, right between saying "thinking" and our next breath, to remind us that we can make empowered choices. We can express gratitude for the food we eat, and enjoy it to the fullest.  We can be reminded of the journey our food has taken, from the fields to the trucks to the store or farmer's market.  We begin to feel more connected, part of a greater whole. We move our bodies in ways that make us feel more alive.

When we add a personal storytelling practice, we learn how to express what's inside us, and eventually release our pain and confusion.  This provides an invaluable way to dialogue with our bodies, minds and emotions, so we discover, perhaps for the first time, what we really need.

And when we make mistakes, as all humans will, we can return to kindness, and treating ourselves with respect.  We can be gentle as we readjust our focus on achieving the best body for us, just as we return to the next breath in meditation.

-- Alyson Mead is the bestselling author of Wake Up to Your Stories and Wake Up to Your Weight Loss.  The Write It Off Club, her new online coaching program, launches on January 1st, 2009, and provides an affordable and fun support system, to help you achieve your best body. (http://www.writeitoffclub.com).

Guest Blog by "Pasta Queen," Jennette Fulda: 4 Tips For Maintaining Your Weight While Suffering From Chronic Pain

Fred Astaire was a great dancer, but as it's commonly said, his partner Ginger Rogers had to do everything he did backwards and in high heels. I've never seen a movie with this dancing duo, but I feel empathy for Ginger Rogers. Four years ago I weighed almost 400 pounds, but lost over half my weight in two years. For the past couple years I've been maintaining 90% of that loss, a difficult task in itself, much like Fred Astaire's dancing. But I am more like Ginger Rogers because I've recently been stuck with a trickier task, maintaining that weight loss while suffering from chronic pain.

In February I got a headache which I still have today. The severity of the pain waxes and wanes. Sometimes I hardly notice it as I move through life, like a radio station playing faintly in the background. Other times I can only lie in bed in pain, as if the neighbor's subwoofer is making the floors vibrate. I've consulted dozens of doctors and alternative health care practitioners about my condition, but no one has been able to give me relief as of yet. My drug of choice has never been tequila or Vicodin, it's been food, available freely without an ID or doctor's prescription. When faced with a neverending barrage of pain, I turned to the baked goods aisle.

The pleasure I felt while eating a chocolate covered donut or a pint of ice cream would briefly drown out the pain in my head. But when I had to open the box marked "fat clothes" in the closet, I knew this coping mechanism was not sustainable. Instead, I've learned some things that have helped me return to weight maintenance despite my chronic pain.

1) Accept that you are capable of doing less
Cut yourself some slack. If you suffer from chronic pain, you must accept that your body cannot do everything that it was previously able to do. When I got my headache, I was training for a half-marathon, writing a blog four times a week, and promoting a book – all while working a full-time job I'd just started. After too many weeks lying on the couch in a dazed haze of pain, I realized I was only doing my body harm.

 If you're driving through life with the parking brake on, you're not going to win the Indy 500. You can still get around town, but it will take longer and put more wear on your system. Once I accepted this, I felt less stressed because I was no longer berating myself for not doing everything I wanted to, either in work, life or fitness.

2) Spend your energy and your money wisely
You must spend what energy you do have to your best advantage. While you might be capable of doing less, you are still capable of doing something. My exercise routine had languished after several months of pain. It was hard enough to make myself go for a run when I felt well, but doing it while I wanted to pop my head off like a Barbie doll seemed unattainable.

 I decided I didn't have the energy to train for a half-marathon again, but I was feeling well enough to go for a 45-minute walk. In comparison to my training routine, walking felt like a pathetic excuse for exercise, but I had to remind myself that some activity was better than none. Depending on the cause of your chronic pain, you can hopefully find a low impact activity such as swimming or biking that can help maintain your weight. Leading an active life will ultimately benefit your health.

I also decided it was worth spending extra money on healthy dinners from the whole foods store to save me the energy required to plan and cook my meals. Fortunately I was in a financial situation where this was reasonable. Don't be afraid to spend extra money on yourself if you can afford it and it allows you to do the things you really want to do instead. Do you want to keep your money or your life?

3) Get help from others
People who suffer from chronic pain may feel like a burden to others, but most family and friends are happy to help you. They are often frustrated that they cannot do anything to ease your suffering, so they might feel satisfaction by helping you do your shopping or wash your clothes. My mother comes over occasionally to do my dishes and help me clean. My brother has cooked me dinner during particularly painful episodes. While I doubt my brother wants to cook dinner for me every night, there is no shame in asking for help when you need it. This has left me with more energy to take care of myself, leaving me less overwhelmed and less likely to binge for comfort.

4) Take time to take care of yourself
Making your way through the medical system can be a full-time job, one that is frustrating, stressful and that you have to pay the salary for. Still, take the time to seek the medical help you need to find relief. I've gone to many doctors and tried acupuncture and massage, which have been somewhat helpful, if not a magical cure. You must be your own advocate in the health care system. Once you are taking the best care of yourself, you are more likely to be able to do what's necessary to maintain your weight loss.

Depression is common among chronic pain sufferers, so if you are feeling abnormally down, don't be afraid to ask for anti-depressants or seek therapy. Sometimes these pills can cause weight gain, but their benefits to your mental health most likely outweigh the weight they'll bring. I know that I would probably gain more weight without anti-depressants than I would with them. Although weight loss happens in your body, the changes you make occur in your head. If your head is not in the game because of your pain or depression, you are less likely to win.

For the past few months I've been following my own advice. While my pain has not disappeared like my excess weight did many years ago, I am coping better with my situation. The majority of the weight I gained during the darkest period of my downward spiral is still present on my body. But for the past two months I have not gained any more weight, and I've actually started to lose weight again. As I've learned how to better manage my pain, I've been able to better manage my weight as well. My life has stabilized and I feel less of a need to self-medicate with food.

I do not know what the future holds for me, but weight maintenance is always on my mind, even if it is sometimes overshadowed by the looming figure of pain. All I can do is continue to fight, losing some battles, but hopefully winning the war. And I can do it in high heels, just like Ginger Rogers.

-- Jennette Fulda is the author of Half-Assed: A Weight-Loss Memoir and blogs regularly at http://www.pastaqueen.com/about her life after the "after" photo.