Day Sixty: Two Midnights Gone!

Hey, everyone! I'm over my sulk, although it took me a good long time. Perhaps it helped that the pants I wore to work today were suddenly pretty darned loose. Will put up new pics this weekend so you guys can see the continued shrinkage. I'm now at the place where I wish I'd started. It seems unlikely that only 30 more days can make a dramatic enough difference for me to pop out with amazing shoulders/back like Grace, or arms like Sarah, but I'll work at it and see if my body can surprise me.

Naty was talking about a little bit of loosening up in her diet, and I've engaged in some these past few days, too, although in a typical teeny, control-freak sort of way. On Monday, I had a book club meeting, and the host was so proud of herself for making no-fat, no-salt pico de gallo just for me that I had to have some. So I had a single corn tortilla with some salsa around my normal dinner time, and ended up having dinner around the normal evening veg time, and called that a night.

On Tuesday night, Luke and I made Thai beef salad. This is mostly PCP-compliant, except for the tbsp of sugar that goes into the sauce. But I rationalized it away as a small part of a much larger and more complex flavor (loads of lime juice, some Thai chilies, a drop of fish sauce, a huge handful of cilantro). It smelled delicious, but I held off tasting and instead packed my small container for lunch with great anticipation. The guys ate the remaining 90% of the dish right away.

I spent all morning in a state of high excitement, waiting for lunch. Delicious, y'all. The sugar's just there to keep the lime from being overwhelming--can't taste it.

And yet, it's time to get back to being really strict. If there's a little slip every day, even if these slips are so small and so mostly healthy, I don't think my body will learn what I want it to know. At two-thirds finished, I still don't miss sugar. Fruit is really delicious and satisfying. And I can see that cheese and nuts really are garnishes, not key ingredients of most meals. As I said to Naty in the comments somewhere or other, I think of following this diet to the letter as a way of practicing good habits over a long period of time, encoding them into muscle memory and taste memory, making them my defaults.

You heard it here: no more sips of pork bone ramen broth, no more edamame as veg, no more carbs after lunch, no more secret ingredients in my flavorings. At least, not for the next 30 days.

As for the workouts, they're hard, but not hard, if that makes sense. My muscles burn, I sweat like crazy, but it's not difficult to get started or to work hard. At past periods, I've had great workout routines and been committed to them, and this seems to slot into that tradition. And I feel more committed to exercise now than at any time other than my one-year flirtation with running (pre-back injury), because someone else has done the hard part of choosing the exercises with several different goals in mind, and I just have to stop worrying and power through.

Day Fifty-Seven: Bitter

I've been going back and forth over whether to post yet more whining here, or just let it sit for a few days. But we're supposed to blog it out, so consider yourselves warned: if you read this all, you're going to need a whaaaaambulance.

In response to yesterday's slough of self-pity, Patrick told me to focus on what I'm GAINING. Other than weight, you mean, this week for the first time in the project? I am furious about that, since I'm still covered in plenty of fat and have heretofore been dropping 2 - 4 pounds a week. You will never convince me that I gained so much more muscle than usual in the past week (or two weeks ago, or whatever) to completely cancel out the usual fat loss. My muscles certainly don't look any bigger. Also, my clothes all fit the same as last week. Really frustrating. But I banged out the workout this morning, packed a lunch, and hit the trail anyway.

The bargain is supposed to be I do the diet and work hard at the exercises and, in return, I lose fat (fail this week), gain fitness (was just as out of breath on the uphills as someone who hasn't exercised in a year on the hike today), and eat better (one out of three!).

Anyway, the other thing I've been urged to do is avoid situations where I watch people eat. But that conflicts with my inspiration activity. Case in point. Today we went to Po Toi for a lovely 5k up-and-down hike. And then everyone else had a well-deserved seafood feast and I snarfed a sandwich. It was a good sandwich, but totally didn't compare. So should I have skipped these views in favor of staying home and feeling lonely?

(On the way down and out to Monk's Point.)

(The ocean in late afternoon from the ferry.)

Or should I have once again sat and watched people feast and not joined in?

(Five of about ten dishes on the set menu.)

(The chili crab, staring at me mournfully since I wouldn't honor her sacrifice by chowing down.)

I chose option two, as you can tell from the pictures. It was a good day, overall. But now everyone's headed back out for dinner and beer and I am sitting around alone and feeling frustrated (Option one! I can has both miseries in one day!). I'll keep up my end of the bargain these last 30-odd days, but don't expect me to be cheerful about the missed opportunities. Especially if there are any more weeks where I do every fucking thing right and gain nothing but weight.

Day Fifty-Six: Them Apples

My grocery store's produce aisles were pathetic tonight. Apples were all tiny and mostly varieties that taste like cardboard here, only three packs of carrots to choose from, etc. And today, despite a really delicious and huge-looking lunch, I am as hungry as I've been since the first week.

(Lunch, you seem so long ago.
Chicken with yesterday's mustard paste recipe, roasted broccoli and peppers, rice,
oyster mushrooms with garlic and a tidge of soy.)

Meanwhile, I'm feeling lonely and left out. My husband has two good friends in town and they're drinking beer and eating their way around Hong Kong. Usually, I'd join in for a little bit and then happily send them off on their own. Now that I can't join in at all, I'm sort of morose. Got out this afternoon for some walking and shopping with them, then met up with a friend for tea and errands, and that was all fun. But the second I got home, the gloom redescended. Now, the guys are out getting delicious Indian food.

My dinner is an egg white, some milk, and--since I'm starving and they're ridiculously small--TWO granny smiths. How do you like them apples?

Day Fifty-Five: Still Okay

Another Friday night, another few hours watching everyone else drink and socialize. It was especially galling after last night, although I would have preferred staying home and not drinking to anything else. But it was a goodbye party for two valued colleagues, so we went.

Other than that, the lack of consequences from the indulgence yesterday continue. Patrick claims that this is because I eat FOOD. Honestly, that's what I crave. There are some decent flavor hacks that can kind of mask the lack of fat and salt, but I miss them. As I may have mentioned before, fruit easily takes the place of sugar for me, so no need to go running after the sweet stuff. When it's indulgence time, I just crave complete food, food that's not at a massive disadvantage from what it's missing.

That said, here's a flavor-booster for meat that's pretty good. Take equal amounts lemon zest, ginger, and garlic (say, 1 tsp each). Mix with about twice as much dijon mustard (say, 2 tbsp) and a tidge of olive oil. Maybe sprinkle on some pepper. Use to flavor tuna or chicken or whatever.

Day Fifty-Four: Indulgences Should Be Every Day

I love indulgences, and I don't seem to have any ill effects from them. Tonight's indulgence:

(Mmmm.)

Mussels in a fennel and cilantro broth, one piece of rye bread, selected fries from friends' portions (no more than 15 total, and I think fewer), three small bites of fatty delicious pig knuckle, a rocket salad with some tomatoes, parmesan shavings, and a vinaigrette, and 2.5 glasses of pinot grigio. Delicious. Plus the evening was good fun, and I heard a hilarious story about one of my favorite coworkers from his new girlfriend. I'll let you know tomorrow if there are any longer-term ill effects, but right now I feel great.

(And a little drunk.)

Day Fifty-Two: In Which I Leave the Apartment After Dark

Thanks for all the hike comments, folks. I have plans to get out to the southernmost island of HK on Sunday if the aftereffects of this typhoon aren't still hanging around, drizzling on us. It mostly let up tonight, enough to head out to the mid-Autumn festival lights in Victoria Park.

(A friendly lion, or the friendliest lion ever?)

Because of the rain, I think, the place was nearly deserted, although it was clearly set up for massive crowds. The lights reflected beautifully on the wet pavement.

Afterward, we walked along through a familiar neighborhood and stopped at a ramen joint for Luke to have dinner. I was starving, despite having eaten egg white, apple, etc, so ordered edamame without salt as evening veg. Hope it's not a problem to count soybeans as veg for one night. They'd clearly been cooked in a salty broth, but if I just delicately pulled the beans out with my teeth, they didn't taste salty at all. I also had one teeny sip of the pork bone soup base. It was divine--bacon-y.

I don't feel bad about having the small taste, but rather concerned. Believe it or not, this is the second time in the whole project that I've allowed myself to have "just a taste" of anything, and the slip in self-control is worrying. Could it be the beginning of a slippery slope? But there was no further consumption, or even an urge to eat more, so perhaps it's nothing to worry about. Indulgence planned for Thursday, which is a holiday here. Stay tuned. Until then, peacock lanterns, for your amusement.

(This is so not Hong Kong - there were few enough people around that it was possible to wait for them all to wander out of my shot.)

Day Fifty: Sluggish Sunday

I may have mentioned before that the PCP seems to wear me out over the course of a week, such that I need at least one day of the weekend to sleep for hours and recharge. That was today. Left the house only to watch my husband eat Vietnamese and grocery shop. And I still feel tired.

The rest of the weekend was nice and busy. On Saturday, I got out for a little hike with a friend--here's us at the top of Dragon's Back out near Shek O.

(The South China Sea is so lovely.)

You can't tell, but my entire t-shirt was drenched with sweat. Good times. Here's to another week, guys. May it be a good one.

Day Forty-Eight: Amnesty Day

I almost feel sorry to say it, but it was a good day, ya'll. I skipped working out and packing lunch this morning in favor of my pre-PCP morning habits, and it was fantastic. Other than an abundance of morning energy at work (positive), and a feeling of lightness and freedom from not being late to work or carrying an extra bag because of lunch-packing, no side effects. Since I live close enough to walk home for lunch, even hitting all my grams was no sweat. Got to the workout at 8:30pm, not too worried since tomorrow is jumprope only day, and it was hard, but I killed it.

On the one hand, it was a great day and I enjoyed it all. On the other hand, it would have been more motivating to have some ill consequences. Should I call this a workout/planning indulgence, or declare every Friday morning amnesty day?

Day Forty-Seven: Snickerdoodles

I had to make cookies for a bake sale tomorrow, and invited down a neighbor and her five-year-old to help out. Because the kid was so demanding of attention--she had to work the hand mixer, and measure and dump all the ingredients, and no, we couldn't help scrape the bowl--I stopped paying attention to what I was doing and fell into old habits. And then was all, "What's that delicious--? Oh, wait. Oops. Better stop licking those butter-and-sugar covered fingertips."

The weird thing? The cookies smell fantastic, but I actually don't want one. I'll leave a couple for my husband to enjoy with coffee, and sell the rest off in the morning without a qualm.

Hey, team, is anyone else feeling sluggish about working out lately? I don't know if it's the tougher workouts, or just the fact that I've exercised for forty-freaking-seven days IN A ROW, but I've just had a more and more difficult time scraping up motivation every morning. And how about those crazy new sit-ups today?

Also: hello, new PCPers! There sure are a lot of you to welcome. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts and seeing your progress.

Edited to add: Is it a bad sign that I skipped workout and skipped packing lunch today and I feel great? Of course I'll go home for lunch and work out tonight, but the euphoria of having a relaxed morning with no sweating and no rushing and no chores! Is this the valley. If so, whee!

Day Forty-Five: Oh, Yeah!

Well, Team Four Mangoes, we've made it halfway. Go, N & R for being strong together (and exploring those vegetable options). And go, Stu, with your awesome focus despite the musician lifestyle. We are made of win.

Speaking of which, here's the stats on me. Patrick's always saying that weight is just a number, but it's one of the few we have for measuring our progress. As of now, I've lost a little over 18 pounds, and judging by the looks of things, that's about half of what needed to go. On track there. I've lost about two clothing sizes, although it's hard to tell since my old jeans died just before the project started and my suits are custom made (as mentioned before--cheap in HK). When I had them taken in last week, the tailor said I was at the max possible for taking things in--any more, and the material would need to be re-cut. So the numbers are looking good.

As for my appearance, I'm pleased with the progress, and I wish there was EVEN MORE. I especially love/hate the way my muscles are clearly getting so satisfactory under their fat blanket. Love because it's great and I feel strong. Hate because they're still covered in lumps and swags. My Chinese teacher, who I probably have a tighter relationship with than many of my friends (a couple hours a week alone together will do that) says, "Your eyes are getting deeper, and you are looking so pretty. Not pale [apparently she thought I'd starve myself for 90 days], but flushed and healthy!"

I rewarded myself for a month and a half of good, solid work with a long massage tonight. My muscles are still thanking me.

Day Forty-Three: Rainy Weekend

It rained all weekend here. Aside from a concert on Friday night, I didn't leave the apartment building. Luxury is napping and reading and movie-watching through a long weekend. And I think my body needed it--I couldn't stay awake through most of Saturday. Let's just agree to consider that muscle-repairing time well spent.

This morning's email was the one about the valley. I feel like I've been resentful and bitchy all along and am only now starting to feel normal and not so put upon, so it'll be interesting to see if I hit the traditional valley. What has been happening over the past week is me snapping at people who think I'm being too strict with myself. One friend is sincerely trying to be helpful--she thinks that this kind of strict diet can't possibly stick for good, and she's right. But she's not considering the things that I'm learning from it and the habits I'm gaining that will be transferable to the future.

Even more frustrating? I mention that I'm on a diet/exercise plan--and I've lost a substantial amount of weight, people--and no one comments that they can tell or that I'm looking better or whatever. Not even polite murmurs. Isn't that weird? I know I still look big, but I'm two freaking sizes smaller. Part of that might be masked by the fact that I got my suits altered (much cheaper and easier in HK than buying new clothes), so I'm wearing the same outfits and they still seem to fit. I'm not in this for the community approval, but since they're all commenting on my food choices, you'd think they'd manage to comment on the results if they saw them as well.

But I am pleased with my rate of progress and my husband mentions the changes he sees, and that's enough to keep me happy and motivated.

Day Forty-One: Jump Rope Nirvana

A few weeks ago, I started attempting to jump in sets of 200. Maybe once or twice a day, I'd get in a good set with hardly a hitch. I divide everything into fractions and percentages, so having a number of jumps that's a reasonable fraction (one seventh instead of one 14th, say) helps me move through the workout with good cheer. Often I could go just over 100 or 125 in between trips. These last couple of days? Many perfect or near-perfect sets of 200. Which means it's time to move up to 250.

Also, I kinda like elevated triceps dips. Hunh.

What I don't like is evening veg. I'd come to grips with breakfast veg by sometimes using dinner leftovers mixed with unflavored oatmeal, and most often chowing on carrots. It seems like a cop-out to make evening veg also the sweet, easy carrot. So there's been raw broccoli (ugh), cooked broccoli, spinach and mushrooms, and raw bell peppers. Tonight I got home late and hungry and did give in to the lure of the carrot. I miss you, nighttime mango, plum, pineapple, kiwi, grapes, peach, etc. Please come back soon.

Day Thirty-Nine: The Slog

I'm outta stuff to say for the nonce. I feel like I resort to this kind of bland update often, but I'm slogging on. Having a simple dinner with just four elements, three of them no-cook, is lovely. But I find that I'm having trouble getting my act together to cook stuff for lunches. Just resent having to spend evening time and effort on things I won't be eating when hot and at their best. Yesterday, this meant that I ended up buying a large salad, dressing it with vinegar, and then forcing my way through it. Salad is way too much volume for not enough grams.

Exercise news flash: unsurprisingly, I hate planks. Yeah. That's it.

Catch you guys later, when I have something of interest to share.

Day Thirty-Six: Thoughts on Fish and a Substitute Workout

Just before the project started for Team Fantastic Carrot, a long article ran in the NYT Magazine, excerpted from a book that's just out: Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food by Paul Greenberg. The upshot: of the 23 types of commercially fished tuna, 7 are depleted and an additional 9 are threatened. Some pertinent info:

Until the modern era, the response to wild-game decline has been a primitive one: widespread destruction of the animals that can’t stand up to our hunting followed by the selection of a handful of ones that we can tame. Out of the many mammals that our forebears ate before the last ice age, humans selected four — cows, pigs, sheep and goats — to be their principal meats. Out of all the many birds that darkened the primeval skies, humans chose four — chickens, turkeys, ducks and geese — to be their poultry.

And indeed, this is a process that is taking shape rapidly with fish. Atlantic salmon are now commercially extinct throughout almost the entirety of their range but have become one of the most widely farmed fish in the world.

...

As fisheries decline globally, more and more countries are trying to replace their wild fish with farmed ones. Today 30 million tons of small forage fish are removed from the oceans yearly, with the majority of it going to feed farmed fish. If we end up farming bluefin on the same scale as we now farm salmon, the tuna, with its poor feed-conversion rate, may end up taking the food of the remaining wild fish that we haven’t yet got around to catching.

It's not just tuna. Cod, halibut, haddock, swordfish, marlin, skate--according to a recent New Yorker article (prompted by the same book plus two other recent ones on the subject), calculations are that large carnivorous wild fish have declined by 90% in the last 50 years. We're emptying the oceans fast. Basically, most of the fish you can buy at sushi restaurants or in the grocery store are neither caught nor farmed sustainably.

Of course, once the project started, we were instructed to eat lean animal protein, with fish at the top of the hierarchy of healthiness. I've been eating too much cheap tuna out of cans, finding it convenient but not delicious, and thinking all the while that I'm contributing to this culture of wild overfishing. And the farmed salmon or catfish fillets I buy aren't that much more sustainable. What to do about it? I'm trying to switch mostly to chicken, although I don't think a single source of protein is all that good. I'm jealous that Naty and Ramiro live near a lake and have access to local fish that they know doesn't come from giant purse-seiners. Probably, after this project, fish will drop mostly out of my diet again.

(Dusk on Victoria Peak)

In less global but equally frustrating news, a technical glitch meant that this week's workout sheets haven't come through yet (and it's currently after 8 pm for me). Instead of whatever today's workout should have been, I climbed Victoria Peak. My apartment is about halfway up from the harbor, but there was still a good 30 minutes at a 15-40% grade, followed by another couple of hours of flat walking combined with 15 minutes of staring at the view and the walk back down. All told, my legs got a good working out, as did the cardiovascular system. I may do some arm exercises and 8-minute abs to round it out, but no promises.

Day Thirty-Four: Today Sucked

This was a bad day.

I did the workout, though I couldn't finish the planks and have a mortifying suspicion that it was lack of willpower, not lack of muscle strength. And I hit the grams, too. But I really wanted the cookies at the staff party. And the curry my boss heated up for lunch. And the cheese and crackers at the after-work happy hour. And the really fun buzz that everyone else had going on. Saw someone who was all, we have to do another dinner! And I had to say, sure--in November.

I want to go out. I'm not a particularly frequent or heavy drinker, but on a rainy night after a long week, when everyone's in the mood to relax and be silly together, it'd be nice to join in. Instead, I nursed my bottle of water, circulated a little awkwardly, and left early to get some food that would be compliant.

One reason I'm feeling so intensely whiny is that I've been on the edge of hunger a lot of this week--and flat-out hungry pretty much all day today. What happens on Sunday, when the grams get cut again?

(My current state of mind.

BTW, Googling images of crying babies was so hilarious it kinda cheered me up a little.
But not enough to re-write this post.)

Day Thirty-Two: Team Names

Guys, the idea was that I'd say, "Hey, do we want one?" And you'd come back with, "Sure! Let's be Team Defense! Or Team Rockstars! Or Team Carrots!" And it would be easy because you'd do all the brainstorming. Let's try this again--the comments section is open.

Okay, okay. We can wait a week or two and blog lots and see what emerges in common or as a good joke between now and halfway. Surely by halfway we'll have some kind of obvious group identity, right?

In personal PCP news, I have to go to the tailor this weekend. My suits are no longer supportable officewear--more like incredibly baggy pajamas. When my coworkers have to watch me hauling up the waistband every time I stand up, it's a problem. Of course, even though that's a fantastic sign of progress, I'm not as thrilled about it as I should be. I want to know why, despite losing a size and a half, my carcass is still shrouded in so much fat. Jeez, what a mess I made of myself.

Anyway. The pure positive is that I'm seeing an exciting new thigh muscle struggling to emerge. That one that makes the sweet outer curve on the front. I first noticed it yesterday during the legs-up triceps dips and it was almost distracting enough to make the exercise less painful. It's still a proto-muscle, but I love it.