These must be mixed for me to eat. I think. I've yet to actually try them together. The two cereals have been sitting in my apartment for a week. I tried the Kashi but it's just not my speed. I think I'll need to cover it up with the comfor of Cheerios in order to get it down. I've never been a milk in my cereal kind of person.
There's no explanation for the weight increase.
Maybe this is the accurate number? I swear this is water weight.
This number represents body fat as measured by "the scale."
If a conversation turns a certain direction at a party and I've had the right amount of drinks I mention how I dropped 35 pounds over the course of eight months before my first year of college. I became rather obsessive about the food and exercise aspects of how I did this.
I stopped drinking sugar-laden beverages. I stopped eating bread. I stopped eating cookies and all related junk foods. I ate much smaller portions during mealtimes.
I exercised every evening for sixty to ninety minutes, six days per week. Every day included:
twenty minutes of climbing up and down the basement stairs
twenty to thirty minutes on an exercise bike
300 crunches
300 push-ups
Every other day I found myself mixing in resistance training on a resistance-type weight bench, working my arms, upper body and legs.
This program started on December 23, 1991. I recall weighing 205 pounds.
The music I listened to would alternate between Pearl Jam's Ten and Red Hot Chili Pepper's Blood Sugar Sex Magic. I managed to follow this routine, with one addition, until I left for college. Once high school ended, I began practicing every morning with the swim team of my local pool. Also, my workouts switched to the middle of the afternoon.
I continued to work out with a similar routine, minus the swimming, during the first month or two of college. I usually woke early and went to the gym. By the time I'd stopped exercising on a regular basis, I remember weighing 167 pounds. At some point in October or November of 1992 I rekindled my love affair with Mr. Pibb and discovered a new passion in pre-bagged, convenience store popcorn.
Some variation of this story seems to spew forth from my lips every six months or so. Lately, I've thought about that weight loss period more frequently. The time for me to stop talking about being in shape and start changing my body has arrived.
I moved to New York in early August, 1996. I weighed just north of 200 pounds, probably 210. I'd spent various periods of time during college re-visiting the gym, but never more than two or three months at a time. The same pattern continued after college, and I packed on more pounds. I now weigh close to 250 pounds.
I want to go back to weighing 170. I realize losing eighty pounds is a ridiculous goal, but I'm going to stick with the old Air Force slogan and "aim high" - err, low. And, thus, the birth of PROJECT 80.
(but is it precise?)
Two nights ago I was transferring from the A train at the Hoyt/Schermerhorn subway stop. I saw a friend thirty feet away. Normally, I would've walked up to her and said hello. Or, I would have waved. I did neither. I tried to hide behind a pillar.
My attempt to hide was unsuccessful. I was caught and spent the entire 8 minutes of our conversation nervous that she would find out the contents of my shopping bag.
When I got off the G train we shared together, I looked down at the top of my shopping bag. The item hidden within wasn't visible. I don't think my friend was able to go all Clark Kent and see through the bag's lining. That I'd just purchased a scale was my secret.
It's programmable! It remembers my height and age. And it measures body fat! Whoo! Standing on a glass scale isn't as scary as I thought it would be. The glass isn't going to break. I left it in my bathroom for three hours until I accidentally kicked it with my toe.
Because most of my apartment is carpeted, I've decided to place the scale in my kitchen, tucked under the wine rack/wooden counter. Nothing says "don't eat that fifth cookie" like spying the corner of a scale on your way to the cabinet.
The directions that came with this Weight Watchers scale (manufacter by Conair) suggest that one shouldn't weigh oneself more than once per week, especially when trying to lose weight. That seems like healthy advice, and a good way to avoid growing obsessed with dropping pounds. "But there's a new toy sitting on my kitchen floor" I want to exclaim. "How can I use it just once a week?"
(perhaps the most boring new toy in the world)