The black pants paradox

I have a confession to make. I have no idea what I weigh.

I suppose that’s a bit disingenuous of me to constantly complain about my weight (ask my friends – I do) when I don’t even know what that weight is. But the truth of the matter is that I broke up with my scale two years ago and we’re not getting back together any time soon.

I know many people who tell you that weight is just a number, but I’m not entirely sure I agree with that. The truth of the matter is that for me, it’s not just a number. It has meaning, and generally speaking, that meaning is one that drags me down into a pit of despair.

Here’s why I broke up with the scale. I’m 5’11” in my bare feet, and I work out 6-7 times a week. I have lots of muscle, and that means I’m never going to like the number on the scale. NEVER. It’s always going to be higher than I want it to be, because it’s never going to be 120 pounds. It can’t be 120 pounds… I doubt I’d survive if I weighed 120 pounds. (That would actually be an extremely unhealthy weight for someone of my height and bone structure.) But while I can rationally understand this, emotion still gets in the way. Emotionally, when I see that number on the scale, it makes me want to cry. It makes me hate myself, my height, my bones, my muscles and every thing else about my body. It makes me compare myself to others, and I always come up short. (Sorry about the irony there!)

Hence the breakup. At my last checkup, my doctor weighed me in kilograms, and I refused to convert it. He didn’t bat an eye or say a word to me about needing to lose weight, so I am choosing to believe that I am in a healthy weight range for my height.

Which brings me back to my original thought: How do I know I need to lose weight? For the past two years for me, it’s been about two things: look and feel. How do I look and how do I feel? And that, my friends, is how I know I need to lose weight. I don’t look the way I used to look and I certainly don’t feel the way I used to feel. That alone told me it was time for a change.

Instead of using the scale, I’ve got a sure-fire trick to ensure I’m a healthy weight. I have a pair of black pants that I use to tell the tale. I bought this pair of pants two years ago at a store in Buffalo called New York and Company. I LOVE this store beyond belief, partly because they sell fun clothes for “mom” body types (big belly and thighs!) and partly because all their pants and jeans are available in tall sizes. It’s affordable and practical, but I don’t look I went shopping with the grandmas at Sears to get clothes that fit.

I bought a pair of black, wide-leg pants in a size 6. (Their sizes are a bit bigger than at other stores… I’d say I go a size down in just about everything there.) They are the perfect gauge of my weight. When I’m at a good weight, the pants are nice and roomy in the waist and thighs. When I’ve been over-indulging, they do up, but are just a scootch (is that a word?) too tight. I kind of have to suck in my gut to do them up. They’re also just a wee bit too stuck to my thighs. And if I’m really in trouble? I can barely get them done up at all.

Oh look, they took a picture of me in my black pants! (Don’t I wish!)

I wore them on May 27 of this year (before I started the Paleo experiment) and they were too tight. Sure, I got them done up, but I felt like a stuffed sausage. It’s part of what prompted this change of diet.

Sunday, after a week of Paleo, I decided to try them on as a test. In good news, they fit! They still could have been a bit less snug on the thighs, but the waist did up easily. They’d still look better a bit looser, but overall, it was much better.

And that, of course, leads me to believe that the Paleo experiment has been a success. I’ve actually decided to stick with it for at least another week, and I’m starting to think it will become somewhat of a way of life. Now, that’s not to say I’m never going to eat another grain or dairy product again, but I do believe I may follow a grain-and-dairy-free diet at least 80 per cent of the time.

The truth is that I feel great. Much, much better than I did. The bloat is gone, I feel more energetic and I’m just generally happier in my skin. If one week did that, what will 30 days do? A lifetime? Even if I don’t lose another pound (not that I have any idea what I may have lost in a week!), it’s just a healthier way of eating. It really fits into my belief of eating REAL, unpackaged, whole foods. I eat mostly plant-based foods, and I can really feel the difference.

Healthy snacks… homemade guacamole, homemade tahini dip and carrot sticks.

Now the key, of course, is to stick to it! That will be a challenge… I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, things have been busy around here. I’m about halfway through the kitchen cleanup. I hope to have it finished by tomorrow. So far I’ve dumped a bag full of paper to recycle from the kids’ drawers and a bag of garbage.

That’s paper from four drawers (to be recycled). And my foot, which I only just realized is in the picture.

I probably won’t get much done today, as I’m off to get re-certified for CPR this afternoon. If I can finish tomorrow, that would be great, as Thursday is a very busy day (more on that to come) and Friday is my graduation day! It should be interesting having to eat lunch and dinner out on Friday, but I’m feeling very strong and I can do this!