June 2014

Day 21: O’Rooney’s (Blasphemous) Shepherd’s Pie IP Style

All That Remains
All That Remains

Another victory in the kitchen. Now, I must admit that when my husband suggested the iconic Irish dish, Shepherd’s Pie, my mouth watered a bit — until he mentioned using cauliflower for mashed potatoes. Sorry, gack factor! Yes, I’ve seen the recipes all over the net for Ideal Protein dishes that do such a blasphemous thing and pretend it’s “delicious” and “didn’t know the difference”. Doubting Delilah over here, I didn’t buy it for a second.

Fine, I will prove my point, I thought, and we got started in the kitchen.


O’Rooney’s Blasphemous Shepherd’s Pie

1 Head Cauliflower

1 carton of button mushrooms

2 Pounds of Ground Beef

1/2 Cup of Beef (or Chicken Stock since we didn’t have beef)

1 TBS Dried onion

1 TBS Garlic

1 TSP of Dried Rosemary

1 TSP Oregano

Preheat oven to 400. In a big skillet, brown ground beef. Chop mushrooms as small as humanly possible and add to beef. Throw in the garlic, dried onion, rosemary, and a bit of Oregano. Cook it until done. In a large pot, boil the cauliflower florets until fork tender. Either use a potato masher or a blender and whip them good. I added a bit of chicken stock to the Cauliflower and some to the meat to keep it moist. Then in a deep casserole dish, sprayed with olive oil, layer the beef mixture and top with the “mashed potatoes  cauliflower.” Bake uncovered for 30 minutes.

Okay, my youngest son busted me whipping up the Cauliflower, so our sneak attack didn’t really work, however, they both ate their small portions. “It was okay, I probably ate it because I was starving,” said the younger. “I can never trust you again,” added the oldest, “I knew those ‘potatoes’ were off.”

I ate it, and I liked it. Even the Irish husband had two servings, so I’d call that a “Gooooaaaaallll!” Sorry, World Cup fever, I’d call it a win!



Day 20: Oh… Go Take A Hike!

There’s just something soothing to me about being outside. Whenever I’m grumpy, or sad, or sick, I yearn for the feel of it. When you’re outside, the yucky things back off, stress, worry, pressure… if you close your eyes and just stand outside, feel the air, listen to the birds, the leaves rustling, all that negative energy seems to loosen and drift away. Sanity lives outdoors. Freedom lies just outside my door. Nature is balanced and perfect in a way that we, as humans, cannot replicate. Nature Deficit Disorder truly affects us all.

It’s no surprise then, that today I feel good. I took a hike yesterday with my hubby. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve not done a thing athletic-wise since that tournament in early May when my knee got nasty. Oh, how quickly you lose your fitness! I gingerly stepped, sometimes hobbled, and suffered in the 92 degrees, that, to we Texans, is not even hot… just warm. I wondered why it was kicking my butt. When I got home and looked at my food intake, I realized that our hike, that’s a bit strenuous, (first 30 minutes is uphill/rocky) took way more energy than I’d taken in all day. I had eaten 360 calories by 1pm when we went. I bonked.

It didn’t keep me from loving all of these things:

Go Outside, Refresh Your Spirit!
Go Outside,
Refresh Your Spirit!

Oh, and the scale finally moved in the right direction! Bonus!



Day 19: Does It Seem A Bit Desperate?

I woke up this morning thinking that I should go give blood. Am I so desperate that I am now subconsciously scheming of creative ways to lose? How much does a Pint of Blood weigh anyway? I admit, it did cross my mind! Is it more dense than water? So, no, I didn’t actually give blood to lose a pound, but it did make me feel happy to know that I might have saved a life today.

How much does a pint of blood weigh?
How much does a pint of blood weigh?

Day 18: Eat Your Dang Food, Dummy!

QuestionI’m trying to lose weight here. “You need to eat less, exercise more, drink a ton of water, eat a sh*tload of veggies…” blah blah blah. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I lost a pound this week. A single-solitary freaking little pound. Yesterday, yes, I said that a “measly” five pounds was more than you think, but I didn’t sign up for this to lose a mother f*ckin’ pound a week. It feels like one pound is a whole hell of a lot LESS than I thought.

Yes, I’m angry.

The facts: 1/2″ off my hips

1/2-3/4″ off my quad

Gained two pounds of muscle back

Lost some visceral fat

So, we had a chat about my week and what I really ate. My head drops, I study my shoes, and mumble, “I managed a cup of veggies a day, I think.”

“Well,” ever the cheerleader (in a good way) says, “that’s something! Did you write down your food this week?”

“Uh, ….. uh….. no.” Then, in a rush, it all tumbles out like confessions to a priest, “And, I probably only got required 3 IP foods in on a couple of days. The rest of the days, I only had two. I mostly didn’t eat my protein either. Maybe 4-6 ounces a day on average. And, before you ask, no, I probably didn’t drink enough water.”

So, same song with me, every damn time I start to diet. If the food is just “meh” and I can go without, I tend to do so. Eating is a chore, not a reward all the sudden. Whoa! Here come all the psychology profs now. There’s your problem!

This week, I’m eating ALL my food to keep my metabolism firing on all cylinders. I’ll drink my damned water. I will freaking write it down.

It seems counter intuitive. Eat too much – gain weight, eat less – lose weight, eat too little – stall out your weight loss. Can’t win for losing around here sometimes.


Day 17: Muscle Wins!!!

So, there are a lot of myths out there about the difference between muscle and fat. According to the Livestrong site, I’ve been fooled by a couple of them. So here you go:

Muscle weighs WAY more than fat. Yes, I’m an athlete, and I carry a lot of muscle. I always have. In my head, muscle was twice as heavy. I must admit that I laughed out loud when I was trying to search for it. I caught myself, but I was about to type, “What weighs more, 5 pounds of muscle or 5 pounds of fat?” I know what I mean, but 5 pounds of anything always equals five pounds of anything else! So, what I really wanted to know was, by volume, what weighs more?

I was stunned to see that there’s not much difference! There is, but not as much as I had imagined! “Using the averages, 1 liter of muscle weighs 1.06 kg, or 2.3 lbs., while 1 liter of fat weighs .9 kg, or 1.98 lbs.” So, I decided that I don’t just have 1L of each. I have probably more than 20L, so let’s multiply by 20. In that case the 20L of muscle weighs 46 lbs and the fat weighs 39.6. Now we’re talking. And, as I obviously weigh more than 85lbs, the difference would be bigger assuming that I am equal parts fat and muscle.

But here’s the good part. Then I searched for images… and this is beautiful!

Found this Lovely Picture On Pinterest
Found this Lovely Picture On Pinterest

Now, doesn’t that make you feel better about that five measly pounds? I feel better. I do!

You’re welcome.


Day 16: Oh How Time Flies…

… When you’re not as miserable as you were on days one, two, three, four, five, six, seven… well, you get what I mean. Day sixteen already? Wow, I do believe there’s hope that I just might pull this one off! Misery visits now and again, but it’s fairly fleeting these days. I’m into the “resigned to this fate” mode, and it’s okay now.

Moving Like a Herd of Turtles, but We're Moving!
Moving Like a Herd of Turtles, but We’re Moving!

My support network, at first limited to my lovely hubby, my Ideal Protein “ray of sunshine” coach, Dee, Wendy the wonder-friend who’s in this thing with me, and terrific Tosha tennis pro (precious partner of Wonder-friend Wendy). My forever bestie, Polly Pig, (my name’s Sarah Sow) is always with me!

But then, this blog brought new friends and people from around the world who read my blog and share their stories with me. Thanks Fattie No More, CeeJayKay Fit, Momma Ames, and Finnie Gets Fit for your inspiration and your sympathy!

So even though 16 days have come and gone and despite the fact that the first week felt like a full 2 years, 8 months and 27 days, I don’t feel all alone and miserable. I’ve joined a community that makes the days march on by like a herd of turtles more quickly than they once did. We’ll get there eventually.

Head up!

Day 14: Well, Stuff My Peppers!

Let me just say that today was a pretty good day overall. My first meeting of the day just happened to be at Top Golf and required me to split my attention between my two clients, golf ball hitting (off a balcony into a driving rain… how fun is that?) and watching The Netherlands beat Chile. It was a bit hard to be a spectator as my clients enjoyed chicken and waffles that were absolutely ree-donk-ilous, and a turkey wrap with fries on my dime while I picked at a pile of lettuce with a chunk of chicken on it. But, duty called, and I, a willing employee did my job. I even let them win… <wink> okay, I’m not a golfer, but we enjoyed nonetheless.

Stuffed Peppers the Irish Way
Stuffed Peppers the Irish Way

Which brings me to my crowning victory in the kitchen, of all places! Yes, who would have dreamed this one?  I know, I know, I hate the kitchen and my cooking is worse than my golfing, but with a cute Irish husband acting as sous chef and mentor, it wasn’t so bad. He told me to find the stuffed pepper recipe I’d read to him from Pinterest the other night. Turns out we had peppers and meat, no mushrooms, tomato sauce and more.

“Well, let’s just do it the Irish way. Stuff those things with meat and stick them in the oven!” he offered in his lovely brogue. “Well, okay then,” I countered, and continued to look up recipes to see what we could do. I ran across one that had rice, then one that was paleo… so we sort of “Irished” those recipes together! The result was actually good enough to make again! So here’s what we did.

O’Rooney’s Stuffed Peppers

1 lb of ground bison (or lean meat)

3 peppers

Seasoning, Salt, Pepper

1 TBS Minced Garlic

1/2 Head of Cauliflower

Green Onions

Preheat oven to 350. Boil Cauliflower until fork tender. In a large skillet with a wee bit of olive oil, brown meat and garlic. Add your favorite seasonings. Drain cauliflower, blend/process until consistency of rice… or mashed potatoes (either is fine, we shot for rice, but got mashed potatoes). Add Cauliflower to meat and garlic and cook until you like the consistency. Cut the tops off your peppers and remove the seeds. Spoon in the meat mixture, put the tops back on. Bake in a baking dish for 35 minutes. Top with green onions. Dig In. Slainte!

Ya, I’m doing a wee Irish jig of joy!

Diet Day 13: Stinkin’ Thinkin’

Stinkin' Thinkin' Stops!!
Haunted By Stinkin’ Thinkin’!!

Smell that? I think it’s coming out of my left ear. It’s called stinkin’ thinkin’ and it’s leaking out of my brain. Ever have those thoughts that you know you wouldn’t think about anyone but yourself? Thoughts you know are hyper critical, completely irrational and downright mean, but you indulge the stink anyway? Here are some I experience:

  1. If I lose 20 pounds, I’ll still be at a ridiculous number on the scale; a number at which I should have never been in the first place. (I want to punch something).
  2. I am gross! (I want to cry).
  3. It will probably take me 30 pounds (and forever) before I begin to look a bit different. (I want to break things).
  4. How could he possibly love all this? (I want to curl up in the bottom of the closet and hide).
  5. I bet my kids are embarrassed. (I am ashamed).
  6. Once again, fattest woman on the courts. (I want to get back in my car and leave).
  7. I’ve eaten less than anyone at this table, yet I weight twice what she does. (I want to scream).
  8. I can’t find anything to wear, I hate looking gross. (I want to throw something through the big glass window and watch it crack and crash to the floor).

I know I’m not alone in the self abuse, and I really don’t like this part of me that materializes out of my frustration and desperation. Why do we let ourselves talk to us like this? If I overheard someone saying these things out loud, or to someone else, you bet I’d jump in and defend them. I hate mean people, yet here I am.

Today it stops! Who’s with me?

Footnote: I do not hate myself. I do know that I’m smart, and fun and talented. Don’t worry about that. It’s simply the ugly talk, that I know is not uncommon, that I want to change. So there ya go.

Day 12: Blech! Veggies… Killing Me


KillerRabbitThey’re killing me! The jolly green giant can take his beans, his okra and any of his other leafy, fibrous, vegetative evil rabbit food and… and…. well, take a hike! I know, I know, they’re good for me. For a girl who just plain does not enjoy them, eating 4 cups a day, is damned near impossible. Well, thus far, it has proven to be exactly that, impossible. Maybe once, in the past 12 long days… hell, maybe even my life, I’ve managed to choke down 3 cups, and it was, to put it mildly, very mildly, not even remotely pleasant or palatable. Seriously, just writing about them makes my throat clench.

I’ve done okay with some roasted Brussels sprout leaves, which prior to this, I actually loved, and roasted until the verge of combustion, cauliflower (cut into tiny, tiny chunks). Salad is okay, but good gracious I’ve got to have some decent dressing. People who say to me, “just munch a piece of crunchy lettuce when you’re hungry” risk a slow and painful death. Celery? There’s another involuntary gag reflex champion, just hope you’re not standing too close. Helpful folks always run the gamut of nastiness, not realizing that their “innocuous” suggestions invoke a revulsion reaction that starts with a weird feeling in my stomach that travels upward into my mouth. Blech.

Dee says that I really need to try to get my veggies in this week, clearly, not impressed with my record setting cup a day average. Little does she know that in the past 12 desperate days, I’ve probably ingested more veggies, than I did all of last year! This, my friends, really already is a colossal amount of vegetables. I feel like a chump champ. I promised I would try. As I went to bed last night, a laid my head on the pillow of shame. I managed less than a cup. I wear the loser badge like a large Scarlet L.

Speaking of being a “loser” I did manage to lose 10 pounds. But MOTHER FATHER SON OF A BISCUIT… SHITTAKES… 7 full pounds of which seem to be muscle. I can’t even talk about it right now. Maybe tomorrow.

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