 |
| Source: Lynda's Recipe Box |
Starting
Weight:
|
211.8
|
Original Target*:
|
225.2
|
Adjusted Target:
|
209.5
|
Actual Weight:
|
212.6
|
Loss/Gain:
|
+
0.8
|
Total Loss:
|
90.0
|
% of Goal:
|
64.9%
|
Avg. Loss/Wk.:
|
–
2.1
|
*Original target calculated from a
starting weight of 302.6 lbs. and an average loss/wk. of 1.8 lbs.
|
|
So yeah, I went backward, which I haven’t done since the end
of September. Over the last six months, I’ve averaged about a 1.6 lbs./week loss,
about 1.5 lbs./week over the last quarter. Those dates include five weeks in
which I went backward, particularly the couple of weeks after I lost my mother
and the week I went to the hospital (where I gained four pounds in two days,
due to the “shipping backlog”). Although these numbers are a little below plan,
I’m still satisfied with the results.
However, two weeks of going backward and three weeks of
falling short have put me seriously behind on the 90-Day Challenge. As of this
morning, I’m 5.3 lbs. over the plan line; to catch up and make the goal (<
200 lbs. by 1/1/20), I would have to lose a hair under four pounds a week,
almost twice the CDC-recommended loss rate. That’s not just difficult — it’s
damn near impossible. I’d have to burn just under 2,000 kcal more per
day than I’d take in — say, by walking about 10 to 12 miles every day at my
current calorie budget. Such a pace would be unsustainable. So, while I’m
sticking to the challenge budget right up to New Year’s Eve, I’m accepting as an
already established fact that I’m going to fall short of the goal. In fact,
hitting < 196 by my birthday is beginning to look like a bridge too far.
On the other hand, the year-end goal I revised before I took
on the 90-Day Challenge — < 210 by 1/1 — is still within reach. So is the third
major goal, which is < 196 by 2/11, the anniversary of the start of the
program.
To make these goals, I still need to maintain some diet
discipline, which I can see may be a problem this month. Already I’m thinking
of the holiday treats I love, such as peanut butter fudge, rum balls, and Chex
mix (I roast it myself because I can’t stand bagel chips). For Christmas dinner
(for which my brother Ted is roasting a prime rib), I’m already committed to
making mincemeat pie and bourbon bread pudding. And I’ve come across a recipe
for chocolate chip cookies that incorporates mint extract and Jameson’s Irish
Whiskey.
To make the original year-end goal, I need to lose just 2.8 stinking
pounds in three and a half weeks. Surely, I can do that and still enjoy some Christmas
treats! But if the damage I’ve done to the spicy crackers Ted made last Sunday
is any indication, that may not be the case. (I told him yesterday that I’ve
been tempted to declare the rest of December a “diet holiday.” I was only
partially joking.)
You can see I’m still trying to negotiate a slip of
discipline with myself. You have to remember — I have to remember — that
I am a glutton. I still try to seek emotional comfort in food. That tendency
may never go away; at any rate, I have to live like that tendency will never go
away.
The Christmas season is jam-packed with emotional
associations, especially associations with family and food. Peanut butter fudge
reminds me of my Grandma Cronin. In the 1970s, it was a rare year that we didn’t
show up at Grandma’s house on either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day for a humongous
feast with the rest of the Cronin clan. My mother would spend a whole day
making various kinds of cookies, many of which went to a family cookie exchange
with her aunts and cousins, from which she’d bring back almost as many as she
took. Making pies for the Cronin Christmas dinner would also be a day-long
project; there were usually four or five varieties of pie, with the pumpkin and
cherry pies doubled to go around.
And as much food as everyone prepared, it was a rare year we
didn’t have enough leftovers for our favorite after-holiday meal, turkey hash.
(What’s turkey hash? Simply leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and
stuffing fried up in a cast-iron skillet. Nummy.)
Although this won’t be the first Christmas I’ve spent without
my mother present, it will be the hardest. The Cronins are now scattered all
over the country; the last big Christmas gathering we had (the “marathon
Christmas”) was in 1993, over a quarter-century ago. And I’m saddened when I realize
I have no children to whom I can pass on family Christmas traditions or with
whom I can make new traditions. So the temptation to try to ease the sorrow and
self-pity by filling the month with the kinds of goodies Mom used to make is very
strong.
But food doesn’t love. That’s what people do. So it remains
for me to find other ways to “make the season bright.” That will take time. Don’t
get me wrong; I’ll be okay. And I may still make a batch of peanut butter fudge
to see if I can recreate the velvety texture Grandma always gave it. If I can,
then that would be an awesome gift for others.
Oops, still negotiating!
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