A Little Coffee With Your Creamer?

Now, I will admit that I have a thing for coffee. I’ve been known to hit Starbucks when the mood strikes, and indie places when I feel guilty enough. After all, I am the mocha monster.

But there’s one problem. If you haven’t noticed, most brewed coffee drinks, the mocha frappe latte whipped cream extravaganzas are caloric nightmares.

Exhibit A: The basic mocha, which I’m sure I’ve indulged a good many times on throughout the last couple of years, is approximately 200 calories.



Exhibit B: A tall (12oz) white chocolate mocha


This baby’s about 320 calories. I think I’m going to cry now.

Now what’s a girl to do? As of late, I tend to go for non-fat and soy, and a complete eradication of whipped cream and syrup from the cup. Notching down my cup size, I can usually convince myself to go for a tall or a short drink, and at some places I’ve frequented, I can whittle down to an 8oz. Which, six months ago, would have seemed criminal but six months ago I couldn’t fit into any size smaller than an XL so I’ll live with it.

At home, where I’ve got a coffee machine and coffee that doesn’t cost four dollars a cup (though if my dad ever sprang for civet coffee, I’d change my tune and potentially think about switching permanently to tea), I can be a pretty frequent coffee drinker. For one, I’m practically a zombie without the first morning cup. (As is most of the country, of course.) Forget about Dawn of the Dead. You wake me up before eight in the morning and you have bigger problems than a horde of zombies mobbing (or is that hording?) urban centers.

So I pour myself a cup of Joe. But what about the creamer you ask?

Well, before I started losing weight, I would basically pour the creamer into my cup until the coffee within was the same color as chalk. Which meant I ended up with what had to be fifty grams of sugar but at eight/nine in the morning, I figured I needed the sugar. This had the benefit of allowing me to drink even the crappiest cup of coffee. Enough creame and you can swallow it down, albeit ending up with an overly saccharine drink that has the vague after-taste of crappy coffee.

Somehow, someway, I was eventually able to whittle my creamer craving down enough so that I could drink my coffee with exactly one tablespoon of creamer (35 calories in the brand we buy!), all carefully rationed out with the same care as a bomb maker working in a sewer. Sure, if the coffee’s horrible or overly strong then it’s basically undrinkable but then why drink it if it’s that bad? I can drink it black on occasion, if it’s an especially good blend. Though most mornings you’ll find me in the kitchen, rationing out my creamer while flipping around scrambled eggs for my sisters (and egg whites for me).

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to nurse a craving for a skinny vanilla latte.


The Why

Apparently people are actually reading this blog.

Which is amazing and I have to thank everyone who’s stopped by the site- I honestly didn’t expect more than ten people to hop by, so thank you everyone! I suppose I’m obligated to deliver now, eh?

So, today I’d like to start about why I’m doing this. The weight-loss, not necessarily the blog (though in a sense that factors in).

It was sometime in mid-July and I was at my worst. I was single (and had been for the last month), sad sack, and to top it off, 220 pounds. I was pathetically unfit (couldn’t walk up the stairs without losing breath for one, forget about running or doing a decent push-up), and I felt frumpy, and tired, both mentally and physically, constantly.

This was me then.


My mom, at the time, was auditioning for Season 14 of the Biggest Loser. So in preparation, she was watching previous seasons, lest she be called upon to remember a former cast member, a moment, and otherwise know partly what to expect (though judging by many of the contestants, apparently even if they’ve been following the show since the beginning, the fact that training with Jillian is the equivalent of boot camp with less camo, that can’t even prepare them). So I, having little to do except prepare for an upcoming choir trip to New Orleans (which I might talk about in a later post), sat down to see what the hubbub was about, despite my apprehensions about it being a dreaded reality show.

I watched one season. Then another. And soon I’d seen five of them, back to back.

What astounded me were the contestants themselves. They came from all over, from all sorts of different backgrounds, but they were there for one purpose- to change their lives (some had a more altruristic purpose but we’ll ignore that and move on). And did they ever.

Here were these people, unfit and sometimes just as sad sack as I was, who had managed to turn it all around. They were able to drop weight, slim down, work through the dreaded “walls”, and though it took sweat, tears, on occasion vomiting, there they were at the end- beaming on a stage at the season finale, almost new people from how they’d begun the season.

And I thought, Well, if they can do it, couldn’t I? After all, though I didn’t have a ranch to work my little butt off on, nor a Jillian Michaels (sadly), there were people losing weight at home all the time. Couldn’t I be one of those people? All it took was work, didn’t it?

So I waited until I returned from my New Orleans trip. (Because, in all honesty, I wasn’t about to miss out on Cajun cuisine, no matter how horribly artery clogging it was.) And I started.

I started small. Reduced my portions, went for longer and more frequent walks. Eventually I began removing foods entirely from my diet (Sayonara, doughnuts! I won’t miss you!), added in new, more vigorous work-outs (Hello, elliptical. How very much like a torture device you look like), and counted my calories along the way.

And though it took some time, the weight began to drop.

Over half a year later, after working at this diet and exercise thing, I now look like this:

(note, this was taken on my 18th birthday. I’ll post something more recent soon since I’ve lost a little more weight since this was taken)

I won’t kid you. There’s still a ways to go before I’ll hit my ultimate goal of 140 pounds. But until then, I’ll be at the gym, making it count.

Of Carbs and Culinary

If you know me well enough, you know that there’s one room in the house that about a good thirty to forty percent of the time I spend at home is spent in this room alone.
Stereotypes aside, that room is the kitchen.
Now I consider myself a ‘good girl’ in that most of that time spent doesn’t insist of shoveling food in my face. I’m usually cooking, sometimes cleaning, or am typing away at my laptop at the table, pretending to be productive.
Now I’m losing weight. And you’d think that as a cook that “Oh, well it’s fine. Millions of options. You can do lowfat cooking. Lookit Curtis Stone!”
Which I do. Yay me.
With one problem. I love to bake.
And I mean

Love to bake.
You know what my brother got me for Christmas?
The Professional Pastry Chef by Bo Friedberg. My (new) Bible. This.
I work with yeast, with scratch ingredients. I can whip up French breakfast puffs in five minutes. To use Bisquick or a frozen pie crust is a sin equal to punching kittens or New Coke.
And it’s never low fat blueberry muffins or vegan brownies. No. It’s all virginal, carby wonders of caloric baked nirvana.
I won’t lie. I’m good at it. Considering it for a career. But trying to lose weight…
Now I have a few limits when it comes to baking. I don’t fry anything nor will it contain anything more than half a pound of non-fruit filling. Nor will it be involve chocolate or cocoa powder unless it’s just part of the garnish.
And I don’t personally eat a full serving if it’s over 200 calories and I haven’t worked out beforehand. Just how it is.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take a walk. My house smells like bread and I’m dangerously close to stabbing at that fresh Country loaf I’ve got cooling.

An Introduction

It seems strange, at least to me, to write a post about my weight-loss when I’m already in the middle of losing weight. When you start a blog about dieting and losing weight, you usually expect it to start at the very beginning, at the before rather than the transition.

In a nutshell, I should’ve started this blog when I was still 220 pounds. Silly me.

As of this post, I’m currently 166 pounds with about 26 more pounds to lose before I reach my ultimate goal of 140. Though I don’t imagine the final 26 pounds will shed quickly, let alone easily, I’m already on the way to becoming a new me.

Which is why this won’t be entirely a blog about weight loss. If anything, it will and should be a blog about my life.

In case you don’t know me (which is unlikely, because I don’t imagine at this point that anyone except close family and the twenty or so people who actually do read my Facebook posts is reading this right not), I am a homeschooled senior and the older sister/babysitter/June Cleaver type figure to four younger siblings. By this description alone, I’m sure you’re expecting this to be some fluffy little thing about serving God through pre-calculus and fulfilling my duty as a woman, while selecting just the right pair of evening pearls as I prepare tonight’s dinner of coq au vin.

And it’s partly that. The pearls and the coq-au-vin part, I mean. I’m about as ungodly as a homeschooled woman can be. And I don’t care, considering I’m an atheist and a lesbian.

But back to weight loss, shall we? I’m rambling again which is something you’ll have to get used to, I’m afraid.

I’ve lost 52 pounds as of this morning, and with any luck, I’ll be well on my way to becoming fit, healthy, and able to wear skinny jeans without looking pained. And be able to run a 5k without wanting to die.

Though can anyone do that, honestly?

This will also be a blog about writing because, naturally, I’m a writer with hopes to learn the craft and one day publish novels of my own (expect me to hawk my wares and guilt you into buying copies when that day does come). And a blog about cooking and baking because as a homeschooler, I’m one of those hateful people who actually has time to let yeast rise and roll out a scratch pie crust.

And once in a while, I just may rant about politics and other such topics I honestly know nothing about. Because what else do you do when you’re a lesbian and an atheist? It’s practically expected for you to go on some rant about Chick-Fil-A and the gender ideals of Christianity.

So this will be a multi-purpose blog. Hope you don’t mind.