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

Since becoming a "Weight Watcher," I have noticed the amount of stress in my life has increased. Having diabetes means I carry around a bunch of stuff with me where ever I go. I have my Glucose testing machine, strips, lancets, glucose tabs, and not to mention my carb counting book.
And now I have to add my Dining Out Guide which gives me the point values to restaurant food, my sliding scale for figuring point values, my tracker which I log my points in, and the Food Guide that has point values for all kinds of foods. So you see, I have more stuff to remember these days then I did before. (READ MORE)

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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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...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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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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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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A day late, and not a dollar, but a pound short; I'm here reporting in on my first week on the dLife Tummy Trim Challenge.  I didn't lose anything in week 1.  On the positive side, I didn't gain either.

 

I logged some of my food.  To be exact, 2 whole days and several partial days.  As my fellow blogger, Michelle Kowalski, also admitted this week; I am accepting the fact that I have a dysfunctional relationship with food. In other words, I eat for reasons other than fueling my body.  Because of this, logging my food both works well to help me reach my goals, and is incredibly hard to do. 

 

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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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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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