I wish I could tell you that this blog was about carbs. As in, eating them. I could share photos of them, and photos of me enjoying them, and would include posts like "Best Seattle Restaurant for Carb Freaks"(osteria la spiga) and "Jen's Pick for Best Carb Ever" (pasta).
But no. This is not to be that kind of blog. This is, in fact, a blog about not eating carbs. I can tell you're gripped already.
You see, I have gotten a little bit...fat. And as I have to blame someone, I am going to blame the vicious carbohydrate. I am not alone in my finger pointing. I am reading Gary Taube's Why We Get Fat and the man makes some good points. His main argument: that our long-held idea that weight loss is a simple formula of burning more calories than you consume is wrong. That fat accumulation (and fat loss) is largely about the hormonal regulation of insulin. So, when we eat foods that cause our blood sugar to spike (carbs, lovely carbs), we get fat.
There's a lot of impressive science there, but for the purpose of this blog, all you really need to know is that carbs = thunder butt and the end to skinny jeans.
Most addicts talk about "hitting the bottom." I guess I expected that would happen to me. I'm not sure what I pictured exactly (me on the floor of my bathroom, sobbing while holding jeans that won't fit and an almost empty bowl of brownie batter?) but it hasn't really. I have continued to pile the weight on, a pound here and a pound there, and forged ahead. And when I started thinking about it too much, I just ate a cookie to shut my brain up.
So, instead of there being one big "OMG! Girl, you are FAAAAAAT!" moment of clarity, I had three smaller moments that made me think perhaps it's time for a change.
1. Photographic evidence that all is not well. Last week, Stephen and I were in Sonoma celebrating Stephen's 30th birthday and our fifth wedding anniversay. He took a picture of me that was not unlike a photo he took of me in Hawaii four years ago:
Notice the collar bone and the chin (singular).
Shit. There's a lot wrong with this whole situation. I'm not going to catalog what those things are, but about 30 lbs separates the two photos. Maybe 35, I haven't weighed myself in the past few weeks. Crap.
2. What my brain spends time thinking about. It occurred to me that my present thinking pattern is likely less than ideal. A graph (click to enlarge):
What I hope my thought pattern will look like in six months:
3. This sweet face. I want Lucy, our precious 18 month old, to grow up free from the shackles of carbohydrate enslavement. We have some work to do as she began this morning by saying "Cracker!!! Now!!!"
So, welcome! I will be sharing what I eat (and don't eat), how much I weigh (yikes), recipes that work and evil thoughts I have about those bitches who can eat carbs and stay skinny.