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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "losing weight":

Since gaining twenty extra pounds in 2006 (due to my insane hormones and PCOS diagnosis), I've had ups and downs in trying to get back to my high school weight and back in my favorite pair of jeans. I let the pounds pile on for awhile before deciding to do much about it. And when I started to care, it seemed more trouble than it was worth.

 

In the spring of 2007, I tried jogging on a regular basis. I didn't lose any weight. Over that next year, I tried eating a little better and going to the gym with a friend. Still nothing.

 

In the summer of 2008, I had a breakthrough (with the help of the bio-identical hormones getting my body slowly back in order). I spent two to three days a week at the gym and lost about six pounds. I never got into a smaller size, but I loved feeling like my body could handle the basics of living.

 

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This morning in the shower I tried to plan out what I would wear today. Brown capri pants, for sure, I thought. They are comfy and roomy. The shirt I wanted to wear, though, was waded up on a shelf. Seriously, I'm not in high school anymore, why don't I put my clean clothes away?

 

Anyway. The brown capris felt a little loose and looked pretty baggy as I looked myself over in the mirror. Hmph, I thought. Maybe the black capris would be better; I'm just not feeling this brown thing today.

 

Same deal with the black capris, but I was running out of time -- and clothing options -- so I went with the black ones. Whatever, I'm a desk jockey so I can live with it.

 

But the more I moved around the more I realized that my pants were actually too big! Not just a little loose, but like a size or two too big.

 

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...I don't want to make the effort. This has absolutely nothing to do with the amount of insulin I take or optimal blood sugar control--although those aspects of dropping a few pounds would certainly be welcome.
I simply hate the way I look. I can't stand how I look in a mirror. I wonder all the time if people are staring at my thunder things or three-baby-having flabby abdomen. Realistically I know I'm the one focusing on these issues, but as a girl I still wonder what others think.
It's ironic, but I find myself being judgemental of other plus-size women. How can she be taken seriously when she's so chunky? I'm sure the judgements go both ways, and I suppose this affects my self-confidence in a way I haven't been able to truly see.
It's easy to pick apart all the things that I don't like about my body, and I don't look at myself too long in a mirror, and I often imagine how other people see me. (READ MORE)

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When I think about a cure I get excited. There are so many people out in the world that struggle with this disease day in and day out and for them to be free from all that would be amazing.

I imagine all the candy shops would have to order more stock because I know I would be eating candy and cakes and drinking lots and lots of orange juice.

A cure would change my life, but for the better? I am not sure. Would I eat food that is bad for me? Probably. I have to be honest, I am sure I would put on a lot of weight at first. But I know at least the likelihood of going blind or losing a limb would be gone. So in that way it would be better.

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I've lost 16 pounds in the past 7 months or so. The bulk of it was lost over the summer when I was working out on average four times a week. And the last few pounds slid off within the first month of school, with the increase in activity on a daily basis and the lack of frequent calorie consumption.

 

My clothes are baggy now. I have jeans from high school that I'm still squeezing into though, so I'm determined to lose a little bit more weight. My body feels better, looking in the mirror is much more appealing these days than it has been in the past. And I'm proud of myself for working so hard to make this happen.

 

So when I showed my mom a pair of pants that have about three inches to spare around the waist, her response threw me. "That's really great!" But it was followed with "Are you sure you're not losing weight because you're running high?"

 

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I've been trying to stick to my new diet and exercise plan in hopes to lose weight. I did a good job on exercise until this week and I've kept up the food stipulations for about four weeks now. Yet I'm not losing any kind of weight. I'm not looking more toned. I'm exactly the same.

 

And I am so frustrated. I know that losing weight doesn't happen over night, but I can't even seem to get half a pound off much less a significant difference to make me feel better. I have to say that doesn't motivate me to keep going.

 

Today, I splurged on food and got lunch at Chick-fil-a and didn't pick a healthy option. I haven't run since last Thursday although I did move the entire weekend. But I can't seem to get my tennis shoes on or my behind into the gym this week. I just want to sleep and eat.

 

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I've battled my weight for decades now, like many people with type 2 diabetes. I might win a skirmish here or there, but there doesn't seem to be a victory or even a ceasefire in my near future. It's hard to understand why I can't conquer this when I've conquered smoking and other bad habits. It's even harder to forgive myself for failing repeatedly.  

 

That's why I was relieved (delighted is more like it) to see Oprah all over the news this week "confessing" to her weight re-gain. If you watch her show or read her magazine or even scan the tabloid covers at the supermarket, you already knew she was gaining again. But she came forward to talk openly about it, perhaps partially to boost her New Year's week ratings. I also believe it was to help herself and others. As Dr. Phil says, you cannot change what you don't acknowledge.

 

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I started putting on the weight over two years ago. For those two years, I let twenty pounds add onto my body. I watched myself go up in jean sizes, throw away old clothes because they were too tight, and hate who I was in the mirror. My blood sugars didn't seem to be affected much by my weight. My wardrobe and my mindset were the only things shattered.

 

Eventually, I realized that the twenty extra pounds were slowly taking a toll on my long-term health, including the long-term health of my diabetes. I started working out again. (You might remember my post about getting my body ready for summer.) I also tried to watch what I was eating more closely, including low treatments.

 

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It's ironic that even the most obscure things we hope for can come true. I can't tell you how many times I've thought to myself how much easier it would be to lose weight (or manage my blood sugar) if I could just completely lose the desire to eat or if I could feel just a bit queesy all the time to discourage my mindless eating habits.
In contrast, I can't tell you how many times yesterday I said, "I'm not taking that damn medicine anymore." (READ MORE)

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The last three weeks at Weight Watchers has opened my eyes up to an important fact.
The program works.
I know that sounds silly but hear me out. 4 weeks ago when I weighed in I was at 38 pounds lost. I was pretty excited about that and was looking forward to being past 40 pounds. Well, the two weeks following that weigh in were not good for me. In fact, I gained exactly .6 pounds each week. Since it was less then a pound I was not entirely upset but I was really hoping to get past that 40 pound mark. (READ MORE)

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