Subtitled: Our Bodies, They Are Not Bank Accounts
Note: there may be some "language" in today's post. This would be why:
Week 1: 147.25
Week 2: 150.25
No, your eyes are not deceiving you. That's a 3 pound gain. And if you think I'm going to blame it on hormones...
...you are dead on the money.
Let me give you the data. Here are my calories and points for the week:
3/10 - 1670, 37
3/11 - 1261, 28
3/12 - 1163, 29
3/13 - 1312, 29
3/14 - 948, 22
3/15 - 1247, 27
3/16 - 1005, 21
That averages out to 1229 calories per day, 27.5 points per day.
Last week when I lost 2.75 pounds, my average intake was 1252 calories/ 29 points per day.
So basically, I managed to gain weight while consuming 161 calories less than I did last week. I know I'm scrupulous about logging every bite. Like I've seen others say, if you don't journal your food, your butt will. I know the truth of that -- if I weren't logging every bite (seriously y'all, I made sure to put in the six lousy chocolate covered almonds I ate yesterday), we'd be looking at an even higher scale number.
The simple truth is, my body is holding onto a boatload of fluid. I'm on day 17 of my current "cycle" and it's prime time for the water retention to kick in. I don't like it, but it's a physiological, medically-verifiable fact.
And hell yeah I'm pissed. It's not even as if I can comfort myself by saying "Oh, next week will be better!" because who knows? Next weigh-in will only be day 24 of the cycle. So... maybe yes, maybe no. My last cycle was 35 days. The one prior was 17 days. The one before that was 26 days. I've gone as long as 58 days between periods.
There is no telling.
Welcome to perimenopause, kids. In spite of being used to this insanity -- I've been going through it since I was 37 -- I am so freaking aggravated. These are not mathematically valid results. At least not by the average 3500 calories/ pound measurement they aren't. Theoretically, at the absolute bottom end I should be eating 1660 calories per day just to maintain my weight. By that math alone, I should have lost almost a pound. Or something. Hell, I'd have taken holding steady. So instead to gain?
Frustratingly, it's just more proof that our bodies aren't like bank accounts.
It annoys my "Give me something concrete and I'll run with it" mind to no end, but it's the jaw-clenching, tooth-grinding truth. Sure, it's comforting to think "Okay, if I put 3500 calories less into my body than it needs to function on a daily basis, I'll lose a pound, and that means if I put 7000 calories less into my body than it needs, that's two pounds, and then..." but the math just doesn't hold true in reality.
That 3500 number is an average, which means there are those freaks of nature (of whom I am shamefully jealous) who burn calories as if they're well-aged pine, and then there are those on the other end of the scale whose bodies are exceptionally efficient (i.e., they hold on to fat as if famine were around the next corner, rather than McDonald's) and only require a minimal number of calories to sustain life.
Those are the types of people on both ends of that 3500-average bell curve. The rest of us fall somewhere in the middle, some higher than 3500, some lower, and a precious few right on it. You simply can't look at intake and assume a specific weight loss. It's a nice guide, but we're all running with different metabolisms. When you then throw in the hormones (don't even say it's an "excuse" boys/ girls who've never had a hormonal fluctuation in their lives or I won't be held responsible for my actions), tormenting yourselves because your weight loss isn't adhering to a specific, mathematical formula is unrealistic at best, and self-sabotage at worst.
Be honest. Journal your food. If it's the chocolate that nuked your weigh-in (I've been there), then own it. By the same token, if it's the hormones, quit bitching yourselves out and own that.
April 25th, 2017 Once Again
1 hour ago