Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Eat the Good - THE BLOG! It's up!!


Eat the Good of the Land - THE BLOG - is now up!

I have been talking about this blog since last fall, when we had the idea. So many people have asked me about my food plan, what I eat, how I lost weight, etc. Rather than re-typing it out, I wanted one place to go and see what I do.

And I wanted Monique to also share her life, her ministry, her creativity with the world. This week: All About Being a Photographer.

We have been generating content since last September, when she first measured me, and we went grocery shopping together. She has been teaching herself Wordpress, learning how to create the site she wants (artists! so picky!).

I think she has an unusual voice. One that is not heard in the blogging world. I think she has a story that needs to be told.

It's up and it's beautiful and I am so proud.


Wednesday, July 9, 2014

4th of July in Chicago

Independence Day was Friday and so this year we had a 3-day weekend that started on the holiday itself. Stellar.

I went to a concert at the Pritzker Pavilion in Millenium Park. It was an orchestra and a choir doing mostly patriotic music. When the choir opened the concert with the Star Spangled Banner, it was stunning. Spine chilling.

Cheers to the USA!

All is not sunshine and roses in the meadow. I've mentioned being ill before. It was worse and worse. I finally did go to the doctor and she prescribed some medicine, and I stayed home. A lot. Then the medicine created an adverse reaction. It was horrible. I will spare you the distressing details, Internetz, but right before the holiday I was in the ER. I didn't know why, just that my doctor had the nurse call me and tell me to go to the closest ER right away. I didn't even know where the closest hospital to me was located.

I laid curled up on a gurney in the freezing cold ER, in a thin hospital gown, shivering and alone and waiting for my tests to come back. At that point I didn't even have the energy left to be upset about it all.

I had manifested symptoms of meningitis, which is life threatening. Luckily, I do not have it. It was just a congruence of symptoms and issues. But it was very distressing and when you've already been in pain for weeks, there's no energy for any more health shenanigans.

I am glad it turned out to be just an infection. I am going to physical therapy. I have learned I have been breathing incorrectly. I have learned that sit ups and crunches and all those ab workouts are bad bad bad. Not just for me - for everyone. My neck is still hurting.

I have many things to blog about, but it's hard to write anything more than Facebook comments these days.

I am trying to love my body, but it's hard to do that when my body is not working right. Maybe I'm the one that broke it, but still.

I read an interview a few days ago with my favorite actor ever, who is currently starring in The Crucible, a very American play, at the Old Vic in London (those eyes!). HE was great and I learned some intriguing new tidbits... but the "writer" made some comments about the type of woman who enjoys his work that set of a tsunami of fury inside me. Not related to being "a fan", but to being fat and middle aged and lonely. OMG. I don't even have the energy to link to the damn thing, let alone construct a cohesive argument for why this douchebag is a douchebag, and his so-called article is a Piece. Of. Crap.

But I had a nice 4th. I met new friends. We drank wine. I sang along with selections from West Side Story. I really wanted to get a pic of the dude on the street corner holding up a hand lettered sign: "NEED CASH FOR WEED." Hilarious. Sometimes I love this town.

I am practicing my breathing. I am trying to get my eating back on the right track (so hard to cook or grocery shop when in pain). I am fighting off the fruit flies that decided to come and have a party in my house when I was too sick to take out my garbage. I am gearing myself up to bartend another wedding next weekend, and I feel less nervous about it all. I am mourning the loss of 2peas.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Shopping Excursions



Last week I was home sick, laying flat on my back for 5 days. I did go to the doctor, she did give me a prescription and I did take it. Plus pain killers.

There are many things I could blog about, but I have no internet at home except my junky cheap phone (a pox on the woman who stole my iPhone in March -- a POX ON YOU!). I usually use the library wifi on my laptop. But I could not do that last week.

So I stayed in bed, and took a rest.

I will say this: I lost over 4 lbs last week. I don't advise illness as a method of weight loss, FYI. No.

On Sunday I ran errands and I just had to go buy some shorts. I had one clean pair at home and they looked like clown pants on me! I put on what I had and burst into tears as I looked in the mirror. I couldn't even do the thing where you pull out the waist and feel good, seeing the difference. I just looked awful, I needed to go outside, it was hot and humid, and after days trapped in my house, I had nothing, nothing to wear.

The other 3 pairs I own are the same size; I bought them at Old Navy just 2 summers ago. You'd have to know me to realize how desperate I was for shorts at the time. I don't shop retail, I don't pay full price, not for casual weekend wear. I don't go into stores like Old Navy where the small sizes are at the front of racks, making me feel like a giant behemoth wandering through the children's section. I don't shop where I have to approach a similarly tiny-sized sales clerk and ask her if they might have even larger sizes, in the back. And then stand around feeling uncomfortable, while she goes to look.

Humiliating days for a fat chick. You can't possibly know unless you've been there. I avoided it at all costs. But I had to buy shorts at the time, and I needed cheap ones. It was super hot in Chicago (for Chicago -- I am a wimp about heat) and my car had no A/C. I was dying in my summer mom-pris.

Some friends of mine are jokingly supportive of my weight loss: "Oh it's so terrible! You have to go buy all new clothes in smaller sizes!"

Well, yes. That's put forth as a benefit of weight loss, and it is a benefit, no doubt. But when you have been trained over years to associate certain activities with embarrassment and discomfort, you just don't want to do them. Telling yourself that now it won't be like that doesn't take away in an instant years and years of aversion behavior therapy. Plus, it's certainly expensive to buy clothes, even at the thrift store. You get more for your money there, but it's still money.

So I have avoided buying clothes at all, and have been hobbling around in my very loose older stuff at work and living with it, and I have some lovely dresses if I need to look nice. I just don't have any casual weekend clothes for hot weather.

Sunday I could not do that. Not any more. Look, I don't care how I am dressed for going grocery shopping and to WalMart. I have to dress with some care for work every weekday; I go out on weekends and try to dress nicely for that as well. When I get a day off from that, I take it.

That said, even I have my line on how crappy I am ok with looking, and these super large khaki shorts, held up by the drawstring pulled as tightly as possible, and the overlarge tank top from Lane Bryant super clearance 5 years ago were just awful. Terrible. I looked like a homeless person. In a pile of rags. Clean rags, but ... still.

Added to that... of course my underwear doesn't fit either.

Cue this: #FREAKTHEF@$%OUT

I probably would have been able to handle it emotionally a bit better, if only I hadn't been in terrible pain for 3 weeks, and laid up in bed for 5 days unable to take out the garbage, wash dishes, or even minimally address the pig sty my home has become.

Short story long: this is how I took a check I got from catering, deposited it in the bank, and then went and spent it all in 30 minutes. I bought 3 pairs of shorts (not the super short underwear-style that is the rage now, laws no) long enough to cover my upper legs, and one pair of super clearance jeans. So long, boyfriend jeans I just bought at retail last Oct. I loved you. :-( Instead I have straight legged high-waisted "classic fit" (aka Dork Jeans). At least they are celadon green.

I just can't bear to spend $40 on a pair of jeans I love, and find less than a year later that they won't fit me.

The good part of this story is that none of this shopping was done in the plus sized section of the store. Nope. For the first time in a decade I am out of the "special" section.

Then I bought underthings. I had no idea what size to buy (FYI, I buy cheap undies in these multi packs for just everyday use, and the numbers on the packages are not the same as womens' clothes sizing here in the US... also, I cannot try them on, obvs). The store was closing soon so, based on the size of the shorts and jeans I was purchasing (and I did try those on), I chose 2 numerical sizes down from my usual.

Oh and no cotton either. My, your options expand when you buy a smaller size. Sad truth that fat women hate having to deal with.

So I grabbed a pack and took them home.

Internetz you do not need to know all that much about my underdrawers. But I will say this:

Holy moly, is this how they are supposed to fit me?!?!

Because that is not at all how I am used to underthingies covering my bottom. And I have had to get used to cotton grandma undies because they were the only ones available that worked with my physical proportions, but now I don't have to wear those any more.


A few posts ago I made some comment about how I would not be a person who took butt selfies and posted them on Instagram (in reference to a kerfluffle all over the body love blogosphere at the time).

I was quite smug about my attitude...oh no, darling, a man needs to at least buy me a drink to see my panties.

Well, the hell with that.

No I didn't take a picture and I am not posting it. But damn, I wanted to. I don't have a man in my life (nothing serious anyway) and I was all: I cannot be the only person to see the non-cellulite swath of pure smooth muscle that is me from my knees to my waist! That is a crime against nature! You could pop a quarter on that!

In a world where women are told constantly to loathe their own backsides, gazing at that part of your own body and, after years or even decades of dislike to outright disgust, feeling acceptance and dare I say it, approval, feels like an act of rebellion.

This is a hard idea for me to wrap my brain around, because all we have to do is look at the pornographic nature of our current media (and even just Instagram) to see many women who gain their sense of validation and even make their living based on approving gazes of their assets. I mean seriously, the world is full of strip clubs and the movies are full of women baring it all or at least most of it.

As a feminist, I have always rejected that. Loudly. Passionately.

Now I don't know what I am thinking. It's a confusing time.









Wednesday, June 18, 2014

So much for a pain free, blog filled life

Last week the neck pain I thought was gone forever returned.

I left work early and then took another day off.

I laid in bed doped up on a double dose of pain killers for almost 3 days, and then I ran out of food in the house.

I dressed for the gym but I just couldn't do it. I bought some groceries and went home.

I've tried doing the neck exercises from last year's PT visits, and they are agony.

I'm super late to work every day this week because I can't jump up out of bed and get going.

I can't even think about blogging. It has never lasted this long and never been this bad. I'm out of narcotics! Today I am on 600 mg ibuprophen and still it hurts so much.

I'm sorry, little blog. I can't think about anything else to share right now. Maybe next week.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Going to the Wedding in a Peacock Dress

Last weekend my stepsister Tricia married her long-time boyfriend Mike in a beautiful, formal wedding. Her colors were turquoise and silver, with touches of black and white toile. Personalized touches and creative accents were everywhere. They even had a signature cocktail made with Blue CuraƧao, for that turquoise color.

It was a beautiful wedding. It's so much fun to spend time with my mom and stepfather, and our families, all dressed up... to dance and to hug, to laugh and to eat, to raise a glass and toast the happy couple. My stepfather has 4 adult children, and I have been to 3 of their weddings (all large), and of course he and my mom had a nice wedding 3 years ago too. 

A couple of months ago I used a free credit from zulily.com to buy this gorgeous peacock-themed maxi dress. It's always touchy, buying clothes online, because I can't try them on, and there are no returns with zulily. The dress arrived, and I wriggled into it, and it fit! Plus I didn't hate how I looked. Score!

It was still cold then, so I put the dress aside, and then when I saw that Tricia's wedding was turquoise, I decided to save the dress and wear it for the wedding. My dear friend Joyce also said, hey by then you will have lost some more weight so it will fit even better.

I pulled the dress on again on the day of the wedding and she was right - it did fit better.

So the funny thing is... for most of my teen and adult years, I hated my upper arms. I always wished I could have slim upper arms. Straight up and down upper arms. It never seemed fair that no matter what size I was, even as a "normal sized" 14 year old girl, my upper arms were rounded.

My whole body, it seems, has always been round. Round chin. Round nose. Round face. Rounded shoulders. Round behind. Big round tummy. Rounded upper arms. ROUND. Oh how I have hated it. It never mattered what my weight was, or my dress size. I wanted to be angular. Sharp. Long. Lean. Sharp cheekbones, straight nose, flat stomach, and straight bony limbs. I wanted clothes to hang off of me, not cling to every curve.

I wanted to be elegant. Instead, I got sturdy. On my best days, I got sexy. Curvy. I still love that look -- tall, long, lean -- on men and women. I still wish I could look more elegant than... you know... CUTE. I'd rather be an elf than a hobbit.

Could I BE any more... ROUND?!?!
Then of course, when I gain weight, I gain it in my upper body. I am what they euphemistically call apple-shaped. It all comes on my shoulders, my stomach, my arms, my face. If I gained weight in my bottom half, I'd just wear skirts and nip in the waist with a belt. 

So basically, I have always hidden my upper arms. I've never worn a strapless dress in my life. Even as an adult, I refused to wear tank tops. To this day I only own a couple, and I wouldn't even wear them at the gym. 

Now I have this beautiful dress, and it is sleeveless. I wore it to the wedding, where there would be a photographer taking pictures, where everyone would be dressed in their best. I wore a dress that is mainly straight up-and-down, and I didn't even wear any Spanx under it. (This was not a political statement... I couldn't find the darn things when I was getting dressed.)

Yep. Me and my upper arms all hanging out for the world to see.

It's funny how your perspective can change. In the photo above (in the blue shirt), I weighed 56 more pounds than I do now. But worse, far worse, than any number on a scale, was the chronic pain. 

For 2 years, I could barely walk, barely stand. I walked only 2 blocks from the train to my workplace every day, and most days I could not make it without sitting down. I couldn't go grocery shopping, because I couldn't push a cart around a store. I rarely went out to buy my lunch at the Panera 1/2 block away, because I could not walk there, stand in line, wait for my order, and walk back. Several times in those 2 years, I skipped work for 3-4-5 days in row, because the pain in my neck was so terrible that I could not sit upright for an 8 hour day.

You might assume: well of course you can't walk when you are fat... but rarely do we hear the opposite: well of course you get fat, when you can't walk.

This week I celebrate a year since I finished physical therapy. A year of being able to walk, to bend, to pick things when I drop them on the floor. My chronic pain had nothing to do with my weight, or I would have had to lose weight to fix the problem. 

I am grateful for it. I am so so grateful for that problem. I am grateful for that pain, though many days I cried because I was afraid it would get worse, never better.

Because of that pain, I joined a gym. Because of that pain, I started lifting weights on machines, because I could not use a treadmill. Because of that pain, I started doing crunches with 50 lbs added. Because of that pain, I started working on my core. Because of that pain, I started doing full body strength training. It wasn't a plan -- I didn't know what I was doing, or why, I just knew it helped.

Hey! That's a muscle! Right there!
So now I love my body. I love it enough to eat right. I love it enough to ask for 2 salads at the wedding, because I love vegetables, and to skip the wedding cake, because I know what the sugar will do to me later. I love it enough to go to the gym even though I'm not in pain any more. I love it enough to flip a giant middle finger to any guy out there who wants to talk about how this woman has a too-fat bottom (maybe I do) or how an overweight woman is unattractive (maybe I am) because she doesn't care about her health (made the mistake seeing the show TMZ over the weekend, and I felt like something slimy and disgusting had oozed across my soul).

I love my muscles in my upper arms. In my shoulders. In my chest. The muscles I have in my stomach. I love every small incremental change and improvement in my body. I love that I can feel muscle even when I am not flexing. I love that I can play 6 games of sand volleyball in a row and serve that ball right over the net every time, and come home exhilarated, not hobbling in pain.

I don't love my body in the way that means I will be taking butt selfies in my undies and putting them up on the internet. I'm not that kind of woman. I'm probably too Old School for that. I still believe a Woman needs a little Mystery. I still believe: hey buy me a drink first, ok?

I'm just happy that I can wear a sleeveless dress to a fancy event and be ok that my arms still are not the straight up and down sticks I thought I wanted. I've worked hard for these arms. I appreciate them, as they are.

Seriously, if I treated a person the way I have treated my body all these years? That person would want nothing to do with me. Yet my body... I paid it a little (positive) attention and it came right back. Amazing. I am grateful. 

Getting Humpty in the photobooth
My nose is big, uh-uh I'm not ashamed
Big like a pickle, I'm still getting paid
I get laid by the ladies, ya know I'm in charge
Both how I'm living and my nose is large

I get stupid, I shoot an arrow like Cupid
I use a word that don't mean nothing, like looptid
I sang on "Doowutchalike", and if ya missed it
I'm the one who said, "Just grab 'im in the biscuits"

Also told ya that I like to bite
Well, yeah, I guess it's obvious, I also like to write
All ya had to do was give Humpty a chance
And now I'm gonna do my dance

Do the Humpty Hump, just watch me do the Humpty Hump!

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Stone Cold Killers



ROWR!


Saw this on Facebook. Cracked me up. I'm not a vegetarian, but I am contributing to the massive death rates among vegetables these days. For sure.

Over the weekend I went to a birthday party, and it was an all-pizza-and-pop sort of party. I was "bartending" (aka making all the kids and many adults a slew of Shirley Temples and even a few Roy Rogers-es) so I ended up in the kitchen a lot, getting ice for drinks. Piles of pizza boxes were everywhere. Large slices of cheese-coated bready goodness were available for the taking.

Just typing that out makes me want some pizza, right now.

Yes I did want some. No I did not have any. Not even a bit. Not even the edge of a cold piece of crust left behind to rattle around in an almost empty pizza box. Not even a sip of a Kiddie Cocktail of any kind.

I don't want to pretend like this is all so easy, because it is not. As I mentioned before, I can make good choices as long as the bad choices are not right in front of me, sitting there, inviting me to enjoy. I can try and not let the stuff into my house, but when I'm at a party and that's what's there to eat, then that's what I want to eat.

It's the change in mindset that really helps me. The strong mental idea that I am not making choices based on weight loss, calorie cutting, being "good", or being on a diet. 

I didn't eat any pizza for these reasons:

refined white flour in the crust - nutrient poor and fiber poor
refined white sugar in the crust and sauce - huge trigger for me
pizza is made with and baked with oils - empty calories and no nutrients at all

Cheese is also not really good for me, but I don't have a problem with eating a little. I'm not doing the plan in this book 100%. Sunday night I brushed salmon fillets with olive oil and tossed whole wheat bread chunks and sliced vegetables in same, then roasted them all in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes. I ate plenty of that, and there was oil there, and the whole grain bread I bought had some kind of sweetener in it (I chose the best option I could). Any animal products are severely discouraged in this book. 

It's still not easy at the moment, but it is possible and I am trying.





PPS. I can't be serious all the time.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Thinking Differently About Food

It's been a little over a week since I started reading my new book. I haven't finished it yet, because the information in it is very dense. I don't need to speed through it to get to the happy ending. I want to read it slowly and ponder the information time.

While I've blogged plenty about my journey to fitness and my gym adventures (here, here, here, here, here and probably more) I have only rarely posted about the change in my eating habits. I wanted to let my sister do that on her blog (I hear it is coming! ...someday). I did post about my struggle to stop drinking regular Coke every day. 

That Coke addiction was only the very tip of my Sugar Addiction Iceberg.

Some people can attend a birthday party, enjoy one piece of cake, and move on. Not me. I would have 3 pieces. I would take the cake platter into the kitchen, supposedly to dispose of it, scrape the leftover cake and frosting off of it on my way, and eat that too. If you saw me have just one piece, that was just for show. Later on, when I was alone, I would go buy cake or ice cream or pancakes at IHOP.

The sugar thing has been killing me for a very long time. I cannot even list all the things I have done to try and kick it. All the money I have spent. The programs I have tried.

Cutting out soda last fall really helped me. Then I moved to cutting out most packaged foods and food items made with chemicals. I still ate and do eat some sweetened things, but now I check labels and ingredients. Evaporated cane juice does not set off a sugar tsunami, so I do drink coffee with flavored creamer that is sweetened with cane juice. I do add honey to my daily oatmeal sometimes. I do eat peanut butter. 

Cane juice, honey, even sugar in the raw -- none of these set off an addiction trigger. I enjoy it at the time, and when the flavored coffee or peanut butter toast is finished, I move on and don't think about getting something more. I don't desire anything else. I don't look for it, and I can say "no" when it comes up. Usually.

I got to the point where I would not buy sugar for myself. I would not buy ice cream or other treats. That was a big change. But if something was put in front of me... I would eat it.

Bridal shower? Cake and whatever else they offered.
Baby shower? The same.
Thanksgiving dinner? Sample 3 different desserts.
Christmas pot luck? Eat ALL the cookies.
All-you-can-eat buffet for lunch? Minimum 3 desserts.
Donuts brought to work? Forget about it.

I told myself that this was ok. I was not "on a diet". You have to be able to live. I was slowly losing weight. I strove to "eat clean" about 80% of the time. This allowed me to occasionally indulge in pizza, mashed potatoes, a piece of cake. I told myself as long as it was occasional, and as long as I did not seek out these foods, I was doing just fine.

In April my body decided to show me that this belief was a delusion. I won't go into all the distressing details, but I will say, it went on for weeks. It was not just buying and eating one pint of ice cream or going out for pie a couple of times. It was very hard to get off that merry-go-round. I needed a lot of support. It was miserable.

The bright spot was that my regular eating (meals and snacks) stayed right on track. I did not buy or drink any soda, either. I just didn't want to do that. It was all the other stuff that was the problem.

So when I picked up this book, and it promised an end to food addictions and cravings, I was ready to listen. 

I am not doing the eating program 100% yet. But reading the information has changed my mind about food. 

For me...


Over 50 lbs down. Still not thin. Don't really care.
It's not about weight loss.
It's not about how I am too big and I need to be smaller. (Giant middle finger to that.)
It's not about controlling my hunger or my appetites. 
It's not about being less or having less.

It's about being more.
It's about having more.

This book gave me a radically different perspective on food. Not cutting things out... but adding what is missing.

This book urges choosing food based on the nutritional content of the food itself. Not the calories, the fat, the carbs, the gluten, the protein (macronutrients)... but the nutrients in the food. The stuff I rarely hear about in my corner of the world -- vitamins, minerals, antioxidants, phytochemicals.

A couple of days after I started reading this book, we had a coffee party at work to say farewell to a colleague. The food at the party consisted of a couple of boxes of large, delicious, beautiful French pastries. One of my very favorite things to eat. They looked like jewels in the big pink box, dusted with cinnamon or powdered sugar, or covered in sugar glaze.

I did not take a pastry, but that's no accomplishment for me to boast about. It's easy to change your behavior temporarily. I know, because I've done it more than once. Changing my behavior is temporary, unless I change the underlying belief that drives the behavior.

Later that day I went into our empty lunchroom to refill my water bottle. One of the boxes was still there, and inside lay three leftover pastries.

Not too long ago (like last month), I would have told myself that just one... or a piece of one... would not hurt me. I'd eat that one, and then I'd become obsessed with thoughts of the others just sitting there, and I'd end up going back to "rescue" the rest of them from being thrown in the trash. What a waste! I would tell myself.

Not too long ago (like 2 weeks ago), I might have told myself pompously, I'm not having one of these but I would have wanted one. The only way I could do this was to pretend the item in question was not even there. I would turn my face away, and pretend I could not see the box or its contents. I would not attend the party, or I would have to avoid going in the room at all -- much like going grocery shopping and needing to completely stay out of the bakery section, or out of certain aisles in the store, while saying Nope, no, no, nope, not having it, don't want it to myself. Even if I successfully navigated the day without one of those, I would have then felt deprived and gone and gotten something else later to make up for it.

Instead, I stood there, over that box, and I looked carefully and fully at the contents. I inhaled the scent of yeasty white flour, butter, sugar, custard, fruit fillings, and cinnamon. I impressed the vision upon my brain. 

Those pastries had a very high calorie content (very energy dense) and a miniscule to zero micronutrient content. No nutrients. None at all. 

Short term benefits = yummy pastry
Long term benefits = addiction, cancer, disease, and death

When I considered it that way, I found it surprisingly easy to say, thanks but no thanks, and walk away.

Best of all, I did not feel deprived. I did not feel that I missed out. I did go to the party. I spoke with my colleague and I socialized. I just didn't eat anything. When we went out for lunch to celebrate his last day, and the restaurant was a place known for thick juicy beefy burgers and sides like macaroni and cheese or sweet potato fries, I sat and chatted with my coworkers while I enjoyed a veggie patty made of lentils, black beans and quinoa, and a large leafy green side salad. And I did not feel deprived. When I was at a wedding on Saturday, and there was a sweet table overflowing with mini cannoli and tiny perfect cream puffs next to all the wedding cake, I had no desire to eat any of it. On my long drive home I stopped for gas, I bought an apple at the gas station, and I ate it on my way. I felt no regrets.

None of this gives me any kind of martyred feeling. Oh why oh why can't I eat what I want, like everyone else can?? Why can't I have a bacon cheeseburger with tater tots too? Why do I have to eat "rabbit food with a side of puke" (as someone recently commented about an Instagram post)?

I just don't feel that way. At the moment, a switch in my head that was always set to ON is now flipped to OFF. The switch is still there, and therefore it can always flip back, so I am cautious about this mental change.

I have made it a goal to increase my daily produce consumption by a factor of 10. I was already buying and eating a lot of produce. I went grocery shopping this past weekend and there is just no more room for produce in my fridge. It's stuffed full. I have had chicken (skinless white meat) a couple of times, but most days I trust my vegetable and bean consumption to give me enough protein. I am still adding Greek yogurt, peanut butter, and almond milk to my morning oatmeal. 

So far... I don't seem to have the desire to eat what I have always wanted. I had changed my behavior, but the desire was always there. Now the desire is gone. 

I like it.