The Infamous Weight Loss Plateau

Stuck. That is where I am at the moment. Very stuck. Nine pounds into what will hopefully be a seventeen pound weight loss after having a baby four months ago. Nine pounds down and STOP.

Here’s the thing about weight loss plateaus… if you hit one, you know you’ve arrived somewhere. You’ve accomplished something. When you are in the process of losing weight, there are points along the way where your body wants to put on the brakes. It’s a signal that your metabolism, your muscles, and your mind need a chance to catch up and get accustomed to the new weight.

It is profoundly frustrating, but it should be seen as positive thing, a space for taking stock, recognizing the new body for what it is… a huge accomplishment. It may not be the body you are ultimately striving for, but it is different enough from what you were maintaining before that it demands a moment to catch up. Your body is telling you something. It is saying, “Hold on a second! This is not normal. What does this weight loss mean? Am I starving?? Do I need to protect myself and hang onto the weight that is left?”

The key here is to stay focused and refuse to give up

The first week of a new weight loss plan is usually pretty successful. Dietary changes are consistent and exercises are new and challenging. You are sore. You might drop several pounds of water weight because you aren’t taking in as much sugar and salt. The scale proudly reports that you have lost three pounds in one week, and you feel like you will be able to do that forever.

Week two is a slap in the face. It is often the first mini-plateau. You’ve lost the water weight, and your metabolism is carefully adjusting to the new calorie intake and expenditure. You haven’t built up enough muscle mass to make you feel tight and fit yet or to help you burn more calories during the day. The dietary changes slip once or twice. It’s week two, and it is almost always a disaster. You might lose nothing. You might lose half a pound. You might gain a pound. Anyway, it feels like a failure.

Week two is a maintenance week and should be dedicated to maintaining your behavioral changes, not worrying about the results on the scale. This is the first of several plateaus you will likely face along the way. If you can just keep your head down and keep doing what worked so well the first week, you will keep losing. It might come off slowly, but that truly is the best way to go. Slow weight loss is much more likely to be permanent… and that, inevitably, includes plateaus.

As I wait here, stuck, it is my job to quietly, peacefully reassure my body that I have enough energy to function healthfully and that it is okay to let go of a little bit more extra poundage. In order to do that, I will have to keep up the workout routine and stick to the dietary changes I have made. I should NOT suddenly cut another 500 calories out of my diet or start spending six hours at the gym every day. I want to let my body know that this is a change I can maintain and that it will feel good in the end. Do not panic. Stay calm.

If after a few weeks I am still stuck, I may need to make some subtle changes to what I am doing. I might add some high intensity intervals to my cardio routine or investigate my diet to see if there is a food or a habit I’ve been ignoring that could make a difference.

I need to treat my body and mind like they have just been through a divorce because, in fact, they have just divorced themselves of 8 pounds they were accustomed to carrying around. I need to help them understand that this new unencumbered, lighter life is a huge step forward, not something scary to be resisted.

A plateau demands patience. You can’t rush genius after all, and if you’ve lost five pounds toward a fifteen pound goal or two pounds toward a fifty pound goal, that’s exactly what you are, a weight loss genius. It is incredibly tough to lose weight. You will get stuck, but keep moving forward. Don’t talk yourself out of it. Keep your eye on the prize, and don’t waver.

These last eight pounds I have to lose are pounds I was carrying before I got pregnant. It is the weight I swore I would drop before having a baby but never did. After walking around bloated and bulbous for nine months (and a few months after that), I’m tired of being squishy. I know where I want my weight to be, and I’ve never been so motivated to get there.

I’m at a plateau. My body is telling me, “This is where you were when you got pregnant. Let’s stop right here in the comfort zone.” But that’s not good enough anymore. I need to let my body rest here for a week or two and then give it a kick start to let it know I can be better, stronger, and lighter.

I’m not taking no for an answer.

East Nashville and a Pittie Named Elvin

My article for HER this month, April 2012, their neighborhood issue... East Nashville and a Pittie Named Elvin

I knew I loved East Nashville for its sidewalks, ripe with block parties and chance meetings. I knew I loved it for the constant flow of young couples with strollers and countless dog walkers, beautiful people with beautiful puppies. I loved that I could step out my front door every day with my goofy, kind-hearted pitbull, Elvin, his butt wiggling gleefully as he surged out into the world, and we could walk for miles discovering new scents and new sidewalks, making friends along the way. We stopped regularly to say hello to the adorable black and white pittie on 12^th and Forrest, the firefighters hanging out in front of the historic firehouse on 16^th and Holly, and the ducks swimming at Shelby Park.

I knew I loved East Nashville, but I had no idea how much East Nashville loved me back.

On the night of October 7^, 2011, my husband, Ken, Elvin and I went out on what would be our last walk together, tracing the sidewalks from 5 Points to the park. I didn’t know that night would be the last time I would tuck Elvin into bed and lay my head down next to his, listening to him breathe and drifting off to the train whistles in the distance. If I had known, I would have kept right on walking, in the hope that I could fend off the sun at daybreak.

The following afternoon I was sitting in our guest room, sorting through some paperwork. I called Ken over so we could stare lovingly at our Elvin through the window overlooking the back yard. We watched him circle, around and around, in search of the perfect spot to land, and when he found his resting place, my heart swelled. I turned back to my work and never saw him again. He disappeared from our backyard that afternoon, made an appearance at Beyond the Edge, a bar up the street, and then vanished into thin air.

Ken and I lost our minds. We thought the rest of the world might think we were nuts for the depth of pain and loss we were feeling and the lengths we were willing to go to get him back. We were wrong. Before nightfall, we had an army of people looking for him, hitting the streets and posting flyers all over the neighborhood. I was beside myself, trying to manage a growing sense of dread, when I looked around and realized that our living room had filled with friends, acquaintances, and perfect strangers - kind, selfless, animal-loving strangers - ready to help us implement a fully developed action plan to find our boy.

When a stray dog is seen wandering the streets of East Nashville, he or she is generally picked up by a random dog-loving citizen and reported to East C.A.N., Camp Chaos, Dogs Deserve Better, or Labor of Love. Within hours, information is disseminated through social networks and on the East Nashville listserv. The dog is returned to his or her owners, and a happy ending ensues. If an owner can’t be found, there are dozens of foster families who love and care for the dogs until forever homes can be found. It is the puppy-power underworld of East Nashville. The rescues go into homeless camps to bring dog sweaters and provide needed veterinary care. They brave dark alleys and respond to reports of dogs chained outside season-after-brutal-season. They make East Nashville a safe place for dogs and the owners who love them.

Just yesterday, almost four months since Elvin went missing, someone forwarded me a post a stranger wrote on Facebook. The man said that when he speaks to people all over the city and beyond, he tells them he lives in East Nashville and they say “Elvin!” Our boy is famous; the good people of East Nashville made sure of it. Every time the phone rings with a new lead, we are encouraged. We are still looking and so are the hundreds of people who have reached out to us in support.

Since losing Elvin, Ken and I have learned about the kindness of strangers. We’ve made treasured new friends. We’ve learned that we live in a close knit, compassionate community. We’ve learned that we must always find ways to reach out to people around us who are in need, and we know now that we cannot take our time together as a family for granted. We have also learned that the train whistle late at night can be a lonely, scary thing when one member of the family is lost in the world.

You can come home now, Elvin. Your Dad and I have learned our lessons, and we have many, many new people and puppies waiting to meet you. I still walk the sidewalks everyday looking for you, and I still have your favorite rawhides in the pantry. Please come home, buddy. We miss you.

G-bye Fat Jeans

So... the fat jeans I bought post-pregnancy are falling off. Just thought I'd share. It feels damn good. I think I'll keep wearing them for a while until they get nice and saggy. 3 lbs away from pre-pregnancy weight, 11 lbs away from goal... whoop!

Cost-Benefit Analysis: Making Good Choices Is a Daily Struggle

My article Cost-Benefit Analysis: Making Good Choices Is a Daily Struggle for the March issue of HER is out. I'm coming clean about cupcakes and wine.

It is 11 p.m. I’m achy from my workout yesterday and feeling pretty good about it. I ate well today except for three large squares of chocolate from the Pound Plus Trader Joe’s 72% Dark Chocolate bar after dinner. My waistline is blissfully unencumbered by elastic-waist, cotton and spandex yoga pants. I didn’t get out for my three-mile walk today because I snoozed on the couch instead. My ten-week-old baby is going to wake up in an hour or two to eat. Another glass of wine would be nice… and maybe a snack… some of my husband’s peanut butter cereal perhaps? God, what I wouldn’t give for a hit of Red Velvet from Cupcake Collection right about now.

It’s all too familiar. Old patterns are crying out to be repeated, but there is a bigger issue at hand, a large looming goal waiting to be met. I have vowed to lose my baby weight and a little bit more by the end of April, a grand total of 17 pounds. It is a pact between me and myself. I have made many of these agreements before. Many. Of course, most of them were never fully met. So, this time, if I have any hope of reaching my goal, I have to stop and ask myself… bottom-line, bare-naked, absolutely truthfully “Why haven’t I met my goals before and why should this time be any different?”

Somehow, someway, in the past, the cupcakes were always more important than attaining the body I was shooting for. My goals were not unreachable, but the choices I made on a daily basis belied my stated objective to lose weight. I set a goal; I got distracted; it got cold outside; I went out for the night; a girlfriend came to visit; we sampled the local cuisine along with a few vodka martinis, and eventually I forgot about the objective altogether. Choices were made day-after-day, and they were not in support of my fitness goals. I remained a mildly chubby but very enthusiastic personal trainer. Nothing changed. I was willing to pay the price for cupcakes and martinis. That choice was just fine at the time, but as of now, I am not willing to pay that price anymore.

It’s a cost-benefit analysis. There is a caloric “cost” for the unhealthy choices we make every day. How much will that pizza cost? A whole lot of calories and fat. What is the benefit I get for choosing to eat it? I get to eat a yummy slice or three. I get to feel full and happy. I get to share bonding time with friends as we tear into the pie together, but I pay a steep price as I walk around every day, uncomfortably squeezed into my fat jeans.

I know I can lose 17 pounds this time around because the cost is no longer worth it to me. The benefit of an hour at the gym is greater than the benefit of tater tots. I don’t know how long it will take, but I do know that this time I am in search of a new identity, not just a new body. This is about more than weight loss. It is about how I want to feel in my life going forward from here. I don’t want to skip out on river rafting because of a crippling fear of bathing suits. I don’t want to spend my time in the car contemplating how my pants are digging into my abdomen. I don’t want to feel weak and tired. Finally (after a year of giving my body over to pregnancy and recovery) how I feel inside of my skin matters more than cupcakes.

I would prefer to sleep instead of working out. I like to drink red wine every night. I would eat sugary baked goods every day if I could… but it’s time for different choices now. New choices aren’t so hard to make when the vision at the end of the tunnel is so much more alluring than the potholes along the way. I’m ready to make choices that support the woman I want to be. The baked goods and the excuses to avoid breaking a sweat are going to have to go by the wayside for now.

The wine? Well, that's a different story. If the wine pads my hips with a soft little layer of love, that's a price I'm willing to pay.

Wedding Weight Woes: Just Say No to the Battle with the Scale

My latest article, Wedding Weight Woes: Just Say No to the Battle with the Scale, is out in Her Magazine's February Bridal Issue. Check it out!

There isn’t much that I love more than a wedding. I got married over three years ago but can still be found covertly recording Say Yes to the Dress on my DVR every Friday night. It’s a sickness, really. There is something so alluring about the romance of it all. Beautiful dresses and flowers, reluctantly adorable men in tuxedos, and the promise of eternal love and commitment. It’s all so picture perfect, isn’t it?

Therein lies the trap.

Picture perfect is all about appearances, and appearances, for many women, are inextricably tied to body image. When it’s our turn to be the bride, so many of us take what should be a happy celebration of our connection with our partners and turn it into a referendum on our bodies and sense of style, fixating on tired, old insecurities as the big day approaches.

As a personal trainer, I get a lot of calls from women trying to lose weight in advance of their weddings. They want to be able to pull that corset tight and fulfill the dream of how they should look in their wedding pictures. I get it. By all rights, it is the one time in our lives when it seems like everything should fall blissfully into place, and for some women it does. I have seen clients and friends drop weight without cutting out so much as a single serving of Manchego. When it happens that way, fantastic. However, if it doesn’t, if a woman maintains her regular, real-life weight, should her day be any less celebrated? Should she feel any less blessed, beautiful, and loved?

Many of my clients who start exercising madly before a wedding end up disappointed because their goals are set too high or they don’t have the time or energy to make the changes necessary for significant weight loss. The struggle to lose weight is something they face every day whether there is a wedding on the horizon or not. I wish they could see the wedding as a reason to let go of that struggle rather than a reason to fixate on it. There are much better, much more wonderful things to think about in anticipation of the day you get to have everyone you love in one room, supporting you and wishing you well.

As my own wedding approached, I lost weight completely effortlessly for the first and only time in my life. Frankly, it was a bizarre feeling. The war I waged my entire adult life was suddenly no war at all. The stubborn ten pounds I could never kick suddenly lifted off and floated away. I felt like an idiot for wasting decades and incalculable amounts of energy battling myself over pounds that could be lost in a blink under the right circumstances. But my momentary reprieve from the weight loss Ferris wheel proved to be a mirage. After the big day, every pointless pound steadily crept back on like a dear old friend coming over nightly for a glass of wine on the couch and a few hundred old episodes of Say Yes to the Dress. I went down; I went up. And the funny thing is… it didn’t matter one bit to my husband. He loved me down, and he loved me right back up again.

Weddings can bring that magical lightness of being, or they can bring enormous pressure and frustration. The brilliant truth of the matter is that the husbands-to-be are always in love with their women just the way they are. They proposed marriage that way, and they want their brides to be the beautiful people that they have adored from the very beginning.

So I tell my clients: we will do everything we can to help you look as sexy and stunning as possible. But the best way to insure that you will look happy and healthy on your wedding day is to be happy and healthy, strong and fit, to exercise and get lots of fresh air, to celebrate the upcoming day and put your focus on spending the rest of your life with the person you love. It has absolutely nothing to do with losing weight or dropping a dress size. It has everything to do with confidence and joy. Letting go of the pressure to lose weight is easier said than done, but if you are taking good care of yourself, your beauty will shine brightly in the photo on the mantel "from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health."

Fruit and Veggie PILLS... Say What?!

Centrum has come out with a new fruit and veggie PILL...

"Centrum ProNutrients Fruit & Veggie is 100% naturally sourced from grapes, blueberries, raspberries, plums, carrots, and tomatoes. Each MiniTab harnesses the power equal to one serving of a blend of fruits and vegetables."

I'm sorry... WHAT?! No, no, no, no, no! A pill cannot be "equal to" eating fruits and vegetables. A pill has been stripped of all of the fiber, water, phytochemicals, and essential life forces that reside in whole, fresh food. Please do not buy this crap!!! Berries, plums, and carrots taste good all on their own. I promise!

AAAAAAAAAGH!!! (Sarah runs off into the horizon pulling her hair out as she goes)

New Year’s Cliché - I have seventeen pounds to lose

Here we are again… all wrapped up in New Year’s Eve and its obligatory resolutions. This particular New Year’s holds special meaning for me. 2011 was a year of massive change globally and massive change for my husband and me personally. We sold our house, moved twice, bought another house, got pregnant, lost our beloved dog, Elvin, and welcomed our son, Sky, into the world. Our family and physical surroundings look nothing like they did at the beginning of the year. 2011 picked us up in one place and dropped us somewhere entirely different when it was done.

Usually, at this time of year, I spend a lot of time preaching to new clients about setting small, unquestionably attainable goals. If they want to set a loftier one, I ask them to get very specific about why that particular goal is achievable for them. I am not easily convinced. More often than not, large, challenging goals are forgotten and abandoned by January 15^th, so I prefer to help them reach for one or two small goals, followed by something bigger and more exciting when they are ready. Walking around with one small success under your belt is a lot more empowering than walking around with a big failure. Teeny tiny changes are usually best and can make an enormous difference in the long run. If you walk 15 minutes every day, you can add years to your life. You might not lose much weight, but it will make a big difference. If you can eat one extra piece of fruit per day, you will be healthier for it.

Small goals are easy. Larger ones require a serious gut check. Just exactly why do you believe you can lose that fifty pounds this time around?! The answer doesn't have to be pretty, but it has to be honest and powerful enough that you can fall back on it in your weakest moments. It has to matter a whole hell of a lot.

This year I am setting what feels like an enormous goal for myself. Eight weeks after giving birth to my son, I have seventeen pounds to lose. This is real weight, not the easy baby weight that drifts off in the first few weeks after delivery. The seventeen pounds is made up of nine pounds gained during pregnancy along with eight pounds I was unhappily carrying before getting pregnant.

This extra weight weighs heavy on my heart, not because of how my clothes fit or how I appear to others. It represents a symptom of motherhood that I have always been determined to avoid... the weight itself, but even more so, the never-ending mind trip over bad body image. I'm tired of the whole game. I can feel the body I want to inhabit, and it is not currently residing here. Fortunately, I have come to know lots of amazing, fit moms who I can emulate. I would probably tell a client in my situation to shoot for the initial nine pounds first, to get back to the pre-pregnancy weight and then shoot for the extra eight. But that would defeat my motivation. The body with eight extra pounds on it is no motivation at all for me. This is about identifying who I want to be in this new role of mom. It’s about who I want to be in my life going forward now that everything is irrevocably different.

As I have stated before on this blog, motherhood is a strange beast to me. I’m not sure who this Sarah-mother person is. Clearly I am in transition, and this is a moment when I get to rediscover myself as I watch Sky grow and develop. I love my son, but this transformation is about me too and part of who I want to be for myself and for him is someone light, lithe, and strong. I do not want to go into motherhood weighed down by seventeen pounds or even eight.

This particular moment is not about cutting myself a break. It’s about demanding more of myself. If I were counseling a client, I would tell her that a reasonable time frame for this lofty goal would be the end of April, sixteen weeks from now. So I will maintain reasonable expectations on that front, though I would much prefer that it go faster. Of course, I will report back, win or lose, on my progress.

I am learning a lot about my clients as I face this hurdle. I am learning that I could counsel them better, help them to dig deep and find out why and how to reach their goals. Perhaps in 2012, I will learn to push them harder after I have pushed myself and to help them reach their grander goals in the long run.

Whatever your situation, whatever your resolution, I wish you clarity and focus in the New Year to make 2012 a banner year. It will only happen once, so let’s make the most of it.

Welcome to the world, Mr. Sky!

Thanks to all my readers for your patience while I'm out on maternity leave.

I promise you this little guy is worth it.

There is Power in Powerlessness… But Damn If It Doesn’t Hurt

I mentioned “powerlessness” in my last post. That word has pounded my days relentlessly for the last few weeks. Powerlessness hurts. Screaming and yelling and grasping for an element of control that is long gone only brings additional pain and suffering. The inability to believe that you have lost control over something you hold dear is beyond comprehension, and yet there is it… plain as day.

Two things… One, my beloved Elvin has been missing for 16 days. I stare at maps and rack my brain to uncover where he might be. The stretches of streets and homes stare back at me blankly, not giving any clues. I have no power. All I can do is keep stepping forward, keep putting out the word that we have not given up, and keep leaning on the people who so generously offer up a strong shoulder.

Two, I am about to go into labor and have this baby. Don’t worry... no gory details here. Just a simple acknowledgement that I am also powerless in this regard. I cannot determine when or how this baby will arrive. I cannot determine what it will do to my body, how I will get through it, or how hard or easy it will be on the baby. But I can decide to recognize my powerlessness yet again and surrender to the inevitability of time, physical pain, and his imminent arrival.

I know that there are people around the world facing unimaginable loss and suffering, and I don’t pretend to compare my situation to theirs. This is just what I have to offer.

Within powerlessness, there is a choice. Panic or release. I cannot bring a child into the world in a state of panic. So my new word, the only word I have left, is “release”. There is no choice but to release, and this does not mean giving up

I hope with every ounce of my being that Elvin will return home, and I hope that my baby’s arrival brings far more joy than pain. That’s all I can do. Release and wait.

If you want more information on Elvin or on the amazing rescue organization helping us look for him, please visit www.campchaos37206.org.

El eagerly opening his stocking - Christmas morning 2010

Lessons Learned from a Lost Puppy

I have learned a few things in the past nine days since my 11-year-old, baby boy pit bull, Elvin, went missing. I have learned a grief that cannot be articulated. I have learned the art of managing a panic attack at 2 in the morning. I have learned what it means for loss and powerlessness to permeate everything.

Sadly, I have learned that there are people in the world that take pleasure in other people’s pain and in the pain of helpless animals. I have seen the depths of poverty and hopelessness in a city that has largely avoided the worst of this awful recession.

Joyfully, I have learned that my husband is my greatest companion and solace. Though shaken to the depths of sadness as completely as I am, he will not be found anywhere but by my side, loving and sheltering me, our unborn son, and our lost Elvin to the best of his ability.

But the greatest lesson I have learned is that there are kind, concerned, supportive, selfless, and profoundly generous people everywhere I turn… the most surprising of whom, I had never met before. The outpouring of support from the community I live in has been absolutely stunning. The organization of people who love animals and spend every day of every week doing everything they can to protect them in my neighborhood is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Friends and strangers are giving their time and resources day after day, encouraging us to press on and not give up.

Before all of this, I thought my love for animals was verging on bizarre. I thought I was some kind of freak for the way my heart swells at the sound of a thirsty dog lapping eagerly at a clean bowl of water or breaks as I helplessly watch a starving, homeless kitten cowering under a broken down car. I am thrilled this week to learn that I am not alone.

I am humbled by the kindness and compassion of everyone who has stepped up to help us. I have learned that I don’t give enough, and that is about to change. I just want to say thank you. I have no words to express how much it means, but we are blessed to be surrounded by so much love and support. Elvin thanks you too… wherever he is.

Please call 615-228-1130 with info.

More pics and description can be seen at www.campchaos37206.org.