Applesalse anyone?

Two and half years ago I walked into the hospital to have my pregnancy induced.  I weighed 182 pounds.  When I found out I was preggers I weighed 159 which may sound like a lot, but I'm five nine and that actually looks alright on my frame.  Clothes fit nicely.  There was no back fat or muffin top.  My belly- my weakest link- has always been quite gelatinous.  In highschool a male classmate poked me in the abdomen at a kegger and slurred something about my jelly belly. Then in college a boyfriend referred to it as a pussy pouch.  Not to my face of course.  He let one of his roommates deliver that award.  Oh the joys of not being perfect.  Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is that I barely put on any weight during pregnancy and actually all of the weight I did gain ended up in the biohazard container along with the placenta. 


Fast forward two and half years.  WTF?  Where did all this crap come from?  It's hangin' off to the left and saggin' to my right and it's attached to me.  And my mid section!  I kid you not people are looking at me like they wanna ask me if I'm pregnant again.  I have had indirect questions like, "so when are you going to have another?".  I'd put money that if I responded with "four weeks" they would not act surprised.  I now weigh just a couple pounds less than the day of my induction.  I did alright the first year.  Somehow I managed to keep the weight off for over a year without watching what I ate and doing just light exercise, like stroller walks and such.  But then I kinda wasn't really watching what I ate.  And even more damming was that I wasn't watching what I drank.


 Enter beer. 


It's a staple at our house.  If you are outside, you are drinking beer.  If you are in the garage, you drink beer.  If you are in the neighbors driveway, you drink beer.  By the bonfire, beer.  Gardening?  Ah heck..grab a beer.  Badminton anyone?  Beer breaks a plenty!  I was probably consuming 4800 calories during my four days off from work when all four allowed for it.  I wasn't getting hammered or smashed or any of that.  It was just a lot of nonchalant beer drinking through out the day.  Having once been arrested for DUI (see my intro post) the only place I felt safe drinking was at home and drinking we did.  Then there was the grilling out.  Granted, it was all healthy stuff.  (sidebar: I did read that my chances of having breast cancer are 10% greater because of our frequent use of charcoal).  And then there was take-out.  Not so healthy stuff.  We didn't really eat out much anymore because of the kid and all, but we'd pick up some Thai food, or some yummy authentic Mexican food.  Then there were the potato chips.  I love love love potato chips.  The saltier the better, which is odd since I don't like to add salt to my food.  Sometimes a day of beer drinking would lead to a big bowl of plain potato chips dipped in ketchup!  YUMMY!  And then I'd go straight to bed.  What a wasted drunken snack that turned out to be.  My man would often comment how fast I ate.  That habit started after the kid was born.  She was a tad fussy after a coupla weeks old and I had to eat fast or not at all.  I'd be shoveling food in my mouth while rocking her bouncy seat with my foot in hopes I'd get it all in while still hot.  I spent too much of her "non fussy" time cookin' the shit and now just as I was about to enjoy the meal she'd wake up pissed.  Have I mentioned portion size?  I'm not and never have been much of a snacker other than my drunken chip fests so when I did have a meal I made it count.  It wasn't that I didn't know better, I just couldn't stop.  I love food and if it's in abundance on my plate I will finish it.


Enter Disgust.


When you look down at your belly and you have rolls beneath your breasts that you never had before, or cottage cheese sitting front and center with your belly button, it's time to do something about it.  It ain't goin' away by itself.  I got so disgusted with myself that I could barely stand to look at my naked body in the mirror.  I'd turn sideways and have to pick my jaw up off the floor after seeing the thickness I'd become.  I had never been this big without being pregnant.  I remember thinking several pounds ago that I still wasn't as big as I've been.  Well now I was bigger.  I was puffy too.  I was spiraling fast with only a few pieces of clothing left to hide behind and even those didn't fit comfortably.  To make matters worse all I could think about was my upcoming trip to Arizona and whether or not I'd have to bring my maternity bathing suit.  What effect would that have on my psyche?  It was time.  I'd hit an all time caloric and gluttonous rock bottom.


Enter Seattle Sutton Healthy Eating.  SSHE for short.


A very good friend of mine was doing a promo and had lost 20 pounds on this portion controlled, freshly prepared three meal a day diet in two months.  Granted she had more to lose from the start, but impressive nonetheless. It's not cheap. In fact she got three months free. I wasn't sure if I could part with that amount of money on a diet of all things, when I should be able to discipline myself to cook and count calories at home.  And like my hair removal homework, I was a tad intimidated by the sum of money it would all add up to in the end.  Then I discovered that through work I could receive ten dollars off of the first week and save five a week from then on out.  It wasn't that much of a discount, but now for some reason I felt like I had found it at a garage sale.  Sign me up Scotty!


A little over one week in and I've lost 6 pounds.  I feel better already.  I'm not bloated.  I'm not puffy.  Between going on a diet and off of effexor I'm actually pooping nearly every other day which is a huge accomplishment for me.  I've had a few glasses of wine but not much and absolutely no beer.  The food is just okay.  A couple of times I've been pleasantly surprised, like the quesadillas, and the spinach quiche and squash.  I've become very protective over my food, the little amount there is.  My daughter is like a dog when it comes to eating and she's constantly trying to steal food off my plate.  I growl loudly now.  The other night I was trying to stab my cooked honey glazed carrots with a plastic fork and two of them jumped on the floor.  That was very sad.  Had I not been at work at the hospital I probably would have picked them up and brushed them off but I have rules about hospital floors.  When certain things, like tapioca or apple crisp (without the crisp) come in these little plastic cups I make sure to lick those containers clean.  Often times my side dishes become a topping for the main course.  For example, yesterdays garden burger came with a side of beans that ended up on my burger since it didn't come with cheese or even lettuce.  I've also discovered some new combinations like with todays salsa chicken sandwich.  They gave me way more salsa for that sandwich than necessary and since I couldn't have any tortilla chips, I sliced up the supplied apple and used it to scoop up the leftover salsa on my plate.  It really wasn't that bad.  Instead of applesauce I was eating applesalse. 


omg.  I am in culinary hell.