Futile Efforts

Last weekend was a really lousy weekend for me, emotionally. I can feel when I'm slipping toward the side of being depressed and know that I need to do something to change that. It's rather hard to fight when you become mired in it; nothing that needs to be done sounds appealing, even the things I enjoy, like my photography, don't hold any interest for me when I get that way. Rather than allow it to get any worse, I determined that I needed to take control and see if I could change it.

On Monday after work, even though I was tired, and had no interest, I cajoled myself into grabbing my things and slipping into the gym. I wasn't going to do much, just my usual routine on the weight resistance machines, which takes about 30 minutes. Afterwards, a 30 minute walk in the local park since our weather is so nice right now. I felt good, refreshed, and just tired out enough that I thought for sure I would sleep well. Tuesday, I skipped the gym (its good to wait a day inbetween weights to give your body a chance to renew itself), and came home to do some yoga on my mat out in the back yard -- got a little sun, some fresh air, always nice to relax that way!

Wednesday, another round of weight resistance at the gym, and a longer walk in the park afterward. Thursday is my "free day", the day I take my son to the library and out for Taco Bell (I have the steak taco salad! yum) Friday, back at the gym, and then another hour long walk in the park.

During the week, my calorie intake was about 1600 a day, except for Thursday, which goes up with the taco salad to about 2000. On Friday, which is "donut day" at work, I allowed myself one (yes, I gave in, but shouldn't have, I'm sure!) bringing my total to 1800. But 20o calories on a day I'm going to work out shouldn't make that much difference if I calculate by the guidelines that 3500 calories = 1 pound. (Either they lie to us, or my body has a different built-in calculator that drops off zeros and that 35 calories = 1 pound!!)

Saturday morning, I grabbed a bottle of water, my camera, and headed to the local park for another walk, covering 2+ miles in about an hour. (I kept stopping to take pictures!) When I got home, I had peanut butter on toast, finished my water, worked in the yard for an hour. Dinner was a scoop of mashed taters and bbq'd chicken.

And here we are at Sunday morning. The results of my work and careful eating? up 2 pounds. And I am depressed, in tears, all over again. Seems like a totally futile effort. Yes, I know what they say: muscles weigh more than fat. Weight can fluctuate a pound or two just from water on a daily basis. I shouldn't be watching the scale that close. I've heard these things all my life. And I'm convinced that not all calories are the same. When I asked my doc about this (I've been fighting the same five pounds for a year now) he said I'm eating too much. When I hired a personal trainer to evaluate my workouts and eating habits, she said I'm not eating enough. I've tried the paleo diet, eliminating processed foods and grains. I've tried low fat diets, no sugar diets, and everything else it seems.

And my final conclusion?

A week without chocolate that puts on two pounds is just not worth it!

Ok, so I'll keep going to the gym this week as well, because it did help my mental state in the short term. And the bottom line is being healthy, not some number on a scale. I'd be healthier at a lesser weight, I'm sure, but not if it involves eating incorrectly.