A Merry Workout Pledge

If you don't read A Merry Life, you should. Mary is adorable, and I'm personally in awe of her... she has done a TON of cool stuff - especially visiting her boyfriend Kepa in New Zealand and I am desperately envious...

Here's a word of advice; DO THOSE THINGS... not necessarily bungee jumping, but get OUT there and do that you can, while you can do it. Don't let your weight get in the way... don't let "what people think" get in the way. There are a lot of things I wish I'd done, and while they're not impossible to do now, it is harder with child...

Anyway, she's been having a tough time recently and asked for some support to get her back in the gym... she said yesterday she'd walk on the treadmill for 30 seconds for each comment she got on her blog... well, she's got some sadistic readers, because she got a TON of comments.

She's also got some masochistic readers, since a slew of us said we'd do it with her. (I personally feel my job as "support" isn't just to pat you on the shoulder and say "You can do it" but to get out there and get dirty/sore/crazy with you!)

Now, by the time I read about it, the possibility for my getting to the gym yesterday were nil. (There's nothing to DO at our apartment complex's fitness center except work out. Which is fine under normal circumstances, but I really didn't think that Darcy would want to sit around for 2 hours and watch me on the treadmill... ) And while she is up for walking certain distances, she gets cranky after about 3 miles or so, and I just really can't carry her very far any more. She weighs like 40 pounds these days! (I know, I know, I used to carry more than twice that around ON ME, and god only knows how I managed to do that, because carrying her for more than half a mile makes me want to throw up.)

So, I said I'd do it, but that I'd get my wii fit and step-raiser out and do step instead...

I'm crazy.

I know it.

You know it.

Now my legs know it.

Mary got 180 comments.

So I did step for 90 minutes. Three 30 minute free-step sessions on the wii. Watched two episodes of Buffy (And, coincidentally, watched the one where Buffy was doing step in the beginning, and Giles was complaining about her deplorable taste in music... )

And then we went to Darcy's soccer practice and I walked around the field for twenty minutes with Thomas. Usually we go around three or four times. (well, it's not just the soccer field, which is actually a half-sized field for the "tiny tots" league, but the entire field, which is the half-sized, the full sized, the baseball area, and a good section of just grass that needs desperately to be mowed.) I've measured the route we walk, it's about half a mile per lap, so in addition to 90 minutes of step, I walked another mile or so.

11,622 steps yesterday. 900 calories burned. 5 and a half miles.

So... I really, really hope Mary feels inspired today.

Because I feel like a noodle.

Make Believe

Does This Blog Make Us Look Fat has an interesting series of questions for the dieter/weight warrior/lifestyle changer, whatever you want to call yourself that I thought was particularly pertinent for me today.

Go, read, come back. I'll be here.

Are you done?

Great... now I thought I'd look at this question from the other side of the equation. I am at goal weight (or, at least I was last week, and I don't think I've gained 1.6, which would be enough to push me back to paying for WW's this month...)

1. What is your goal weight or size?

My goal weight was originally 125, but I've had a hard time pushing to that point. For the last four and a half months I've been bouncing around (and I do mean bouncing... my weigh ins look like a 2nd grader's drawing of grass... up down up down...) between 132.4 and 138.

Technically, my goal is 134, which means according to WW, I need to be between 132 and 136. When I mathed out sizes (given that 10 pounds is "about" a size) I figured that from a size 24, if I lost all 90+ pounds that I wanted to lose, I'd end up in a 6, or maybe a 4. I did that. The jeans I'm wearing today are 4s.

2. How do you behave at goal?

At goal, I am... paranoid. Astonishingly enough, getting to goal didn't change me completely! I don't know what I expected, but it's not been a lightbulb moment. I still have yet to look in the mirror and see a thin person. I'm ok with comparisons (ie; I'm thinner than I was, I'm thinner than that person, I'm not the thinnest person in the room) but I still don't feel like I look thin.

I had hoped when I got to goal, I would/could relax a little. And yet, I'm so close to my goal weight that I don't really have any wiggle room. A 2 pound gain for me will have me once again paying for weight watchers, and I've discovered (as you all probably know!) that eating pizza (no matter how MUCH pizza or how LITTLE pizza) will cause me to gain 2 pounds.

I am actually less active than I was while losing. Having finished the 3-Day, I haven't yet instituted a new goal or excercise plan and Sundays, which used to be my crazy-exercise days have now become "sit around the house clicking facebook every 2 minutes" days.

3. What does a person who is active or at a certain weight do to stay there?

According to WW, I should be eating ~22-25 points (give or take) plus my 35 weekly and whatever Activity points I get. I don't know what I've been eating, since my tracking has once again fallen by the wayside. I hate tracking, I really do.

Right now, I'm trying to get back into tracking; 4 days a week, at minimum. I will give myself extra "gold stars" if I do more than 4 days tracking this week. Also, I think I'm slipping on vegetable servings again. Since I haven't been tracking, I don't know for sure. But I'm also trying to get back on track with fruits and vegetables.

Also, I got an unexpected and unpleasant surprise on Halloween. I went to donate blood (a surefire way to lose 1 pound, since a pint's a pound, the world around!) and couldn't because my iron count was too lose (12.5 is the minimum, and mine was stubbornly sitting at 11.) So, for the first time in quite a while, I'm dedicating myself to remembering to take a vitamin. I've always been a little dubious about the whole nutritional supplement thing... it seems to me that if you're eating the way you're supposed to, a vitamin shouldn't be necessary. So, I must not be eating right, eh? I did find a caffienated vitamin from One-A-Day; so I'm going to try that and see if that'll help me keep on track with that goal.

4. At the end of the day sit and think. How was this day? Could “being at goal” be your lifestyle? Could you live like this?

I'm trying really hard... sometimes I think I'm trying too hard! I'm totally stressed, and spending a great deal of time being pissed with Thomas when he eats a 1/2 pounder cheeseburger from Ruby Tuesday's (1350 calories, 90+ grams of fat) and then LOSES weight!!

I won't lie and say that being at goal hasn't had some positive effects; I'm less self-conscious than I used to be (or at least, I no longer CARE what OTHER people think of me... not that other people could POSSIBLY be as harsh on me as I am on myself...) and I have a dresser full of clothes that if I don't absolutely LOVE it, I don't HAVE to wear it. (still working on getting rid of the stuff I don't wear much or at all...)

On the other hand, getting to goal and maintenance hasn't been... easy.

It's worth remembering that just because you get there doesn't mean the work is over. We all know that it's easier to gain weight than to lose it...

Contest News!

I want to thank everyone for their comments and/or retweets... The winners are KyraTX and FlybabyF. Please email me at tisfan at gmail dot com (you know how to reformat that, right? right.) and give me your mailing information so I can get these out to you! Congrats!

How Breast Cancer Changed My life

Excerpt from my old blog:

October 3, 2007.

My mother has breast cancer.

Why is there never anything helpful to say about these sorts of things. "Sorry you're sick. Hope you don't die." "Hmmm, can I have all your stuff when you're dead?" It sucks that I sit there on the phone, gaping and just having no idea what to say. Maybe they should teach a college course on "shit to say that doesn't sound completely stupid in the face of a tragedy." I know I should have signed up for it.

Yes, they caught it early. Yes, breast cancer is survivable. Yes, it's still one of the leading killers of women in the United States. I know all this. I knew it even before she told me she had it.

And people keep asking me "If there's anything I can do..." and there's a bitter, nasty part of me that wants to scream at them... "What the FUCK do you think you can do? Because, really, if you're sitting on the cure for cancer just so you can offer it to me at a convenient time, you're a real jackass." I don't say that, though, because it's rude. And I do know that people love me and care, and they wish there was something they could do. And I'm not even mad at them, I'm just mad at the situation. Still... "What the fuck, man, what the fuck. No, there's nothing you can DO. There's nothing I can do. We have to just hope that there's something the goddamn doctor can do aside from sending my mom a BIG HUGE bill."

Ditto, I'm mad at my mom. One of the first things she said to me was "Don't tell your dad, ok?" Oh for fuck's sake woman. Look, I know she's vain and self-centered from time to time, but jesus h christ, get a stepladder and get the fuck over it already. She's been divorced for fifteen YEARS. It's about time that she stop giving a royal FUCK what he thinks. What does she think he's gonna do, anyway? Gloat? My dad may not have been the most wonderful husband on the planet, but jesus, he's not like that. And even if he used to be, he's not anymore.

I feel sort of alone in this... my friends don't really like my mom much. She's sort of neurotic and immature. I don't have any family support in this; I've disowned (and been disowned by) most of my aunts and cousins and the like. It might be nice to talk to someone else who actually cares about my mom, you know? My friends care about me, and believe me, I appreciate that. But they don't generally care about my MOM. That's ok, and I don't blame them for it, but gods, I do wish I had someone to talk to who does care about her.

I can't decide if the timing of the rest of my life is good, or bad. I have Darcy's birthday party this weekend, and Carol's baby shower next weekend, and I still have a ton of stuff to do, so I'm staying really busy. But I'm also having a lot of trouble focusing on the tasks at hand. I stood there blankly at the bank the other day for like ten minutes with my mouth open, disconcerting the teller, while I tried to remember why I'd gone there in the first place. (To get quarters.)

I dunno. I hate feeling lost and useless like this.

And I don't know what to do.

This followed a doctor's appointment in July where my doctor said "I'm not liking your A1C results... I'd like you to try to lose 10% of your body weight - about 22 pounds - by the time I see you in January or I'm going to be forced to put you on diabetic medication."

And was followed by this picture being taken of me.

I weighed about 227 pounds.

My asthma, my ankle, and my fear of falling down (every time I've fallen in the last few years, I've broken a bone... I have crappy bone density from years of steroid use, and I'm a klutz on top of that. All in all, it doesn't add up to a happy and safe life.) were my excuses to keep from working out. My attitude was an excuse to not diet ("diets don't work!" "I can't lose that much weight!" "It's pointless!").

But after those three things - and they say these things come in threes... oh, wait, that's celebrity deaths... whatever - I decided to change my life.

I might not be able to change my genetics - I now have breast cancer history on both sides of my family - but I could change my eating habits and weight.

My husband and I started "watching what we ate" just after November of that year. And started weight watcher's "officially" the first week of January, 2008.

You all know the rest of the story... my husband's lost 90+ pounds. I've lost 87 (ish) pounds. I started walking; he started running. We've changed our lives a LOT.

Two weeks ago, I walked the Susan G Komen 3-Day... sixty miles.

Today, I read this article in Fitness Magazine:

"Women think breast cancer is mainly related to family history," says Melinda Irwin, PhD, associate professor of epidemiology and public health at Yale School of Medicine. "But in truth, only about 10 percent of cases are. That means 90 percent of breast cancer may be caused by environmental or lifestyle factors like weight."

It's a good article, and I highly recommend it. It's encouraging to think that - what I did in the depths of "I need to do something" fear - I made the right choice.

This is me, today. (Well, technically, two weeks ago.) And my mom. I weigh 134 pounds. I can walk sixty miles. My mother's been cancer free for almost 2 years. And her surgery scar is really minimal.

4 Ways to Beat Breast Cancer

1. Watch your weight.

If your BMI (body mass index) is 25 or above, work to lose 10 percent of your weight.

2. Get moving.

Exercise for two to three hours a week for the ultimate protection, says Melinda Irwin, PhD, associate professor of epidemiology and public health at Yale School of Medicine. "Aim for 60 percent of your maximum oxygen intake, where you have to take a deep breath every other word if you're talking," she adds.

3. Schedule regular sweat sessions.

Chores don't have the same anticancer effect as working out, because "they tend to be start-and-stop," Irwin explains. "You could spend an hour in the garden and raise your heart rate for a total of just 15 minutes. When you exercise, you get continuous moderate-intensity activity."

4. Veg out.

Eat cruciferous vegetables like broccoli, cauliflower, and kale. They contain isothiocyanates and indole-3-carbinol, compounds that may prevent the growth of tumors.

BLOG CONTEST!!

I've been enjoying my subscription to Fitness Magazine (I got to try it on the cheap through a special offer on my Sargento Cheese sticks...) I'm going to renew my subscription. When I do this, I'll be getting 2 free subscriptions to give away as gifts.

If you'd like to win one of these free subscriptions, leave me a comment!! Post about this contest on your blog!! Or twitter about this contest!! On November 1, I'll select two lucky winners and you'll get a year's subscription to Fitness magazine! (yes, if you do all three things, you'll get three chances to win!)

Winners!

The two free copies of Lose the Diet, selected using the nifty little app at Buzz My Blog will be going to:

Lori

and

She-Fit

Congrats!

Please email me at tisfan at gmail dot com in the next week with your personal information and I will get those in the mail for you to enjoy as soon as possible.

Book Review - Lose the Diet

Lose the Diet; Transform your body by connecting with your soul - Kathy Balland

Hello everyone – I am so happy that the Hungry Little Caterpillar is included in my virtual book tour, and to share my book with you called Lose the Diet – Transform your body by connecting with your soul. Thanks so much Lynn for having me here.

The caterpillar is such a great symbol. What is so fantastic about the caterpillar is that it represents our amazing ability to transform ourselves. Not that we (and the caterpillar) are not already beautiful beings, but my point is that each one of you already has the power within yourself to achieve your hopes and dreams. All it takes is the belief in yourself, some determination and a few tools to help you get there. My book Lose the Diet explains that, and gives you the help you need to achieve your goals.

In Lose the Diet I tell the story of the two caterpillars that were walking along one day when they looked up into the sky and saw a beautiful butterfly. Then one caterpillar looked at the other and said “you’re not getting me up in one of those things!” But the caterpillar did not realize that she was already a butterfly, just waiting to transform. And so it is for you.

The moral of the story is: See the butterfly within yourself. Tap into your ability to achieve your dreams, because the answer to your success is in only one place: You!

Kathy Balland is the author of: Lose the Diet – Transform your body by connection with your soul. For a FREE half hour guided meditation audio to help you relax and reconnect, sign up at: www.LoseTheDiet.com. The book trailer is: www.DietFreeMovie.com. Follow Kathy on Twitter at: http://twitter.com/LosetheDiet

Diet has gotten a bad rap, recently. (Or, at least, the word has...)

"Diets don't work!" "97% of all diets fail!"

Obesity is all over the news, the grocery stores are filled with 100-calorie snacks. And yet, we're all getting fatter. What gives?

Lose the Diet is a book about giving up the "diet mentality" and learning how to eat to live, not live to eat.

Kathy Balland is a wellness coach and expert in the mind-body-soul connection in the areas of weight and stress management. Clinically certified in hypnotherapy, her work with clients in addition to her own weight management has provided deep insights into the real causes and their remedies that finally released her and so many others from the weight war, once and for all.

Now, I'm lucky in that - aside from having gestational diabetes and having to eat 1,800 calories while pregnant! - I've never really done the dieting roller coaster. Once in college, I did a low-fat "diet" for a while, lost maybe 30 pounds and then broke up with my long term boyfriend, went to Not Eating for a while when depressed and then got back into my old habits... but I never did the year-in, year-out binging, dieting, South-Beach, Atkins, pills, powders, special machines (in just 6 minutes a day!) that I know a lot of people (women!) have. I've never tried to lose 10 pounds for a single event. Never done a wrap, never taken dieting supplements ($45 for a 30-day supply? Thanks, no... ), never drank slim fast shakes instead of eating, etc. (For example, my wedding dress was a size 24 and I did not attempt at all to shove myself into a 20.) Unfortunately, I do know a lot of people who have been there, done that, joined the club, and they have jackets.

The Diet mentality, the "I have to lost 30 pounds and I have to lose it right now, and I don't care how it comes off" begins a pretty nasty cycle of starving, losing, binging, gaining back more than you lost... until eventually you can "diet" your way up to morbidly obese. Even Weight Watchers, which I continue to heartily endorse (I only wish they were paying me!), has some diet mentality still attached to it. Low fat, low sugar, pre-packaged snacks... which have the nutritional equivalent of a chunk of road tar... (and some of them taste like it, too...) are heavily pushed. And because Weight Watchers continues to stress that "you can eat anything you want" some people are prone (myself included) to 2-point snacking themselves out of weight loss...

Balland has - while not a new approach to eating - a more "entire life" change. The information she gives out (And if I could change only one thing about this book it would be that Balland does not cite her references. Even if I probably wouldn't go look up her source material, I prefer having the option to do so.) is simple. Eat whole foods, prepared at home, as often as possible. Get plenty of fluids. Sleep. Relax. Exercise. De-stress. Figure out what emotional baggage you have that may be causing you to eat too much. And like all simple things, can be very hard to actually DO.

My personal favorite bit of the book are the 10 commandments for stress reduction; something I personally need to work on.

VII. Thou shalt relax and do nothing regularly.

VIII. Thou shalt not even feel guilty about doing nothing, or saying no.

Yeah... I need to work on that.

I did find that, after twenty-some months of research, losing weight, and reading blogs, I knew most of the information Balland provides. While I still have areas that I need to work on, I think this book is more suited to either the beginner or someone who has been yo-yo dieting without making much progress in changing their life. I somewhat considered it a refresher course on things I already know (and should be doing!).

I've changed my life, and while my soul and I might not entirely be on speaking terms... we'll get there.

And now, for you! If you're interested in this book, I have two signed copies to give away.



Hit me up in the comments between now and August 21st for a chance to win: retweet me (follow @tisfan on Twitter!), or post a link to this entry on your blog (and then comment that you did so, because I am technologically idiotic sometimes and don't always know if you linked me in your blog! Der!) or add yourself as a follower of this blog (if you are already a follower and you want an extra entry, just note that in your comments that you already follow my blog!) for extra entries. Two people will be selected out of a hat (or some other completely random way to be determined later) and I will ship to my overseas readers (do I have any?)

The Greatest, and Hardest

Well...

Today will start my new contest, but first I want to talk about the old contest for a while.

I'm trying to wrap my head around a pretty difficult concept here, so forgive me if I ramble for a while.

I was... surprised at first, that no one leaped in to answer my contest question. Then I was disappointed. Then I was somewhat confused. Then sad. Had no one seen my entry? Have I lost readership? This blog was very popular at first, have I lost that verve that keeps people coming back? Then I wondered if no one was interested because I hadn't said specifically what my prizes were. And then I wondered if people really do hate themselves that much. Which made me sad.

I've always thought that my low self-image and low self-esteem came from my parents, for whom I could never seem to be pretty enough, or smart enough, or interesting enough. My mother, who thought I was gangly and awkward and unattractive, and certainly never interested in good-looking, rich young men. (My tastes in partners have always leaned towards the intelligent and funny, rather than the studly.) My father, who thinks an adjective is a useless part of the language, thinks majoring in Literature was a waste of his money, and that I never think about anything "real" or "important" and the "greatest shame of his life is that he raised a child who voted Democrat." I always looked at what I got, and it was no wonder to me that I didn't think well of myself. The two people who were supposed to be the most important, most influential people in my life didn't think I was worth bothering with. What the hell else was I supposed to think?

But you know, not everyone's family is screwed up.

Is it the media? I mean, we see airbrushed and photo-shopped models everywhere. I could point you at some very scary links, but I think everyone's seen them before.

Is it that whenever we see someone do something incredible, or act with self-assurance, that we feel this need to "take them down a peg"?

I remember, at my cousin's wedding, one of her younger cousins did some singing for her - sang Beautiful Soul at the reception - in front of probably 200 people. And all my step-mom could talk about on the way home was how arrogant and self-centered and self-absorbed this 13 year old girl was. I mean, excuse me?? She's 13 years old and she's got the nerve to stand up in front of that many people and sing? And it's not like she sang badly, either. She has a pretty good voice.

Once in a while, my mother would admonish me by saying, "You always wanted to be the center of attention!" The tone in which she made this statement clearly conveyed that I should feel ashamed of myself. It worked: I did. Whether or not she intended it, I got the message that expressing myself in any way that might be different, that might call attention to myself, was deplorable... and to enjoy my own talents, to recognize my gifts -- or (God forbid) to feel good about myself -- was even worse!

Leslie Karen Lobell, M.A.

I don't know why we do this to ourselves. Or, even worse, why we do it to other people. I'm just as guilty of it as anyone else. I know I've often though something along these lines, "Oh, look at her, doesn't she think she's just Mz. Thang?" I know I've wanted to "show someone that they are just not as great as they think they are." And I certainly know I've thought that pretty people are somehow more shallow, or more arrogant, or not as interesting as more normal people. (That latter bit might still be true; there are many things I'm willing to reconsider. That Victor is a vain, self-absorbed, shallow man is not one of them.)

I notice as I've worked (and worked damn hard!) at getting thinner, that I'm really not any happier with myself. I notice more flaws and more problem areas than I did when I was heavier. My teeth, my skin, my hair, my feet, my legs, this, that, and the other. It's like... like making a clean spot in a dirty room. You clean one thing and what you notice is how much worse the rest of the room looks. Until you're cleaning this and changing that and in the end, it doesn't matter how much progress you made because you're still upset, and now you're tired as well.

We all know about the whole "love yourself before you can love someone else" motto. It's so overused that it's cliche, and honestly, we all dismiss it. Yeah, right. We involve ourselves in negative self-talk, we beat ourselves up over mistakes we made yesterday - and to top it off, we bring up past failures that are so long ago, we might not even want to change them! I mean, seriously...

I'll get on a real tear about myself and remember doing something bad in a fifth grade class (stole another girl's colored pencils... my justification at the time is that she kept leaving them in the coat closet, and honestly, if she didn't want them, and I did... why not? So I took them. And yes, I got caught. And then I lied about it. And got caught at that, too. And then had to do parent-teacher conferences, and demerits and etc, etc.) Does this matter today? Not really. Did it matter in the years after it happened? Sort of... strangely enough, I hadn't known the girl particularly well when I stole her pencils, and then... a few years later, we had some more classes together. "Hey, you're the girl who stole my pencils!" she said. "Yeah, it was stupid, I'm sorry." "Nah, it wasn't a big deal." And we got to be friends. Pretty incredible. And honestly, if she could forgive me for it, so soon after the event to the point that during high school, she was one of the only friends I had, why do I still see the need to wince about it now? (Why yes, I'm still cringing, tell you all about it.)

Speak to yourself in ways that are more kind, and less mean or abusive. Many of us have very harsh inner critics: When we make a mistake, this critical voice inside our head beats up on us, saying things like, "That was so stupid! ... I can't do anything right! ... What a loser!" We need to replace these negative messages with other, more positive ones. For example, "I made a mistake. That's okay: That is how I learn. I'll know better the next time." With awareness, over time, you can "catch yourself" when your self-talk is negative, and change the message to something more positive and "ego-enhancing."

Why do we have this obsession with not seeming too arrogant? I've found myself editing out about 15 apologies so far, or explanations, or reassurances that I haven't suddenly "Got this", that I'm still working on self love. Why do I need to apologize for that? Do I think that you won't like me, won't read my blog, if I suddenly stop hating myself so much? And... if you did... does that matter?

Well, yes, it does. I would be sad. I would be very sad. There are so many great people I've met through this blog, and reading their blogs, and... I would be sad.

But that's no reason not to do it anyway. Okay, so... I love myself, I become a total bore, no one likes me, and no one reads my blog. Is that actually going to happen?

No.

It's that simple.

No, it's not going to happen.

(For one thing, I don't think it's possible for me to become a total bore. I'm a good writer, and I'm pretty comfortable with that. And I think of my readers as my friends. My friends are not going to abandon me just because I no longer join in the sewing-circle of self-loathing. If they were that sort of people, I wouldn't like them anyway!)

Is what we need permission? We need permission from someone else to love ourselves? That's easy. I hereby give you all permission to see yourselves as the wonderful, special, and interesting people that you all are. And you're beautiful. And handsome. And loving. And smart. And insightful. There. You have my permission to acknowledge that.

(And no, you don't need to write me a long email detailing all of your failings in order to point out how wrong I am. I can match you screwed up for screwed up, and really, there's no winner in a contest like that. Stop it! I can hear you composing it in your head. Don't do it! Stop! Right now! That means YOU, TOO! Sheesh, people!)

Yes, we need to acknowledge our mistakes. Apologize for them when we can. And learn from them. And then, move on.

Much like our lifestyle eating plans. My husband's friend at work calls it the Elmo plan.

Eat it.
Log it.
Move.
On.

So... the contest.

I only had six entries... so, my grand-prize winner is WVSooner for this entry he wrote a few weeks ago. He didn't write it for me, but that's ok. The whole point wasn't to write it for me. The point was to write it for yourself.

WVSooner wins a CD from Putumayo World Music, which sells some really gorgeous CDs to expand your musical horizons. Get with me with your selection, as I'm ordering a few more CDs from them in the next week and I will just add your order to mine. Also, email me at tisfan at gmail dot net so I can get your mailing address. Congratulations and enjoy your music!

My runner-up winner is Irish Mom, who wins a Purespring Shower gel in Jasmine Tuberose scent. Ditto on the email me, Irish Mom, so I can mail out your pampering scented shower gel.

(While you're congratulating the winners, take a few minutes to read around on their blogs, they're both very interesting people!)

This week's meeting (National Self Indulgence week, remember!) our leader had a nice picture of a tree.

Imagine someone did this to you; they planted this tree, and then they said 'hey, this is your tree. And when it gets sick, you get sick. And when it dies, you die.' So, what would you do?

Everyone jumped in with all these suggestions about checking the soil, watering the tree, hiring an expert, building a fence around it, putting mulch down for it, etc etc. Of course, the punchline is, why would we do so much for a tree that we don't seem to realize that we're NOT doing for ourselves.

We don't water ourselves and take care of ourselves. We get stuffed to the back burner of our own priority list and forgotten. How many things have we not done because of family, friends, children, no time, it's too expensive... when what we really mean is "I don't deserve this."

Or, we give ourselves rewards for small accomplishments: Oh, I'll get a pedicure when I reach - 10 pounds. Hell, I do this... and half the time, I don't even buy/get/do my rewards! How motivating is that? Not really, is it?

So, my challenge for this week; reward yourself. Go ahead. You have my permission. (Pffft. Like you need it, but isn't it good to know you have it anyway?)

Not for losing X number of pounds, or remembering to drink your water, or sticking to your plan all day. Heck with those things. Give yourself a reward just because you deserve it. Because YOU DO! And then tell me about it.

Self-Indulgent

This week is National Self-Indulgence week.... so says my Meeting Leader.

As Americans, do we really need any such thing?

Pfffft.

We talked about being self-indulgent and what it meant to us.

For me, it would mean being able to sleep late. I'm a mom. I almost never sleep late. I would KILL someone to be able to sleep late sometimes, and it just rarely ever happens.

Part of the problem is that Darcy gets plenty of sleep. She goes to bed around 8:30, and she gets up around 8. (I know, I know. Some people would consider getting up at 8 to be a luxury, and I'm very sorry for them, but hey, this isn't about you, is it. This is about me!) Most of the time, she has no desire to sleep in. There's too much to do, too much to see, too much fun to be had.

Part of the problem is Thomas. He is a very heavy sleeper. He needs 45 minutes of slapping his snooze button to get up and functional in the morning. So, every morning that he goes to work, I spent at least 45 minutes between 6:45 when his alarm starts going off until 7:30 (ish... this can go on until almost 8, when I'll kick him out of bed) waking up and drifting back to sleep in that sort of hallucinatory semi-dream-state that doesn't really qualify as anything remotely resembling rest. Every morning that he doesn't go to work, I roll out of bed whenever Darcy cracks the door of her bedroom, so that I can make sure she doesn't color all over the walls, or whatever weird and destructive thing she's planned for that day. (As well as getting her breakfast and juice and whatnot.)

The third part of the problem is me. I sleep very lightly. I wake up if a car outside honks its horn. I wake up if one of the neighbors slams his door. I wake up if the cat uses the litter box. I wake up if I forgot to turn my email program off and I get an email. Sometimes I even wake up for no reason whatsoever.

On weekends, Thomas sleeps until anywhere from 11am to 1pm or so. I'm... still up at 8.

I would love. to. sleep. late.

Even until 10am would just be wonderful.

I think Thomas would have rather I not shared all that at the meeting last night. The other ladies in the group snickered at him. When Beth asked "So what's a self-indulgence thing for a man?" one of the guys in our group said "Not having to answer questions!" All the guys laughed. "From your wife, or from me?" All the guys chorused together, "Yes!"

(As a note, the flower pictures have nothing to do with anything, except Manuela mentioned that I should have taken more pictures of my trip. I did take them, I just didn't think anyone wanted to be flooded with my pictures. So I'll post a few of them per day for a while...)

Many suggestions were made for my benefit on how to sleep late. (Making Thomas sleep on the sofa came up, which wouldn't work because I don't sleep well at all if he's not in bed with me...) The most likely one to actually happen is shipping Darcy off to my dad's for a week... when she's not here, I can sleep late.

Maybe. If a cricket doesn't roll over in the next yard over.

(My weigh in was great! Down another 2.6 pounds... another .4 to go until I hit -35 pounds... So, hopefully, next week!)

PS - there's not much time left in my little contest... Please post a short comment or link to your blog entry on what you like about yourself! I'll be drawing prizes tomorrow!

Gardens of Delight

Saturday was another girl's day out, that my friend Carol and I have been doing recently in reaction to our discovery that our friendship was slipping away through neglect. (Terrible feeling, that. On the plus side, we noticed it before it became unchangeable, and have been putting much effort into resuscitating the damn thing before it dies on us.)

I made the suggestion that we go to the Botanical Gardens in Norfolk. For one, I've never been there. Second of all, it's something that Thomas is - typical man - completely uninterested in. That's been one of the real tricks to this "thingie". We have to find something to do that we both want to do that the husband types don't want to do... If, for instance, I had suggested that she and I go see Kung Fu Panda, Thomas would have been somewhat miffy and hurt that I didn't want to see it with him. I'm still trying to decide if I can suggest we go see Mama Mia together or not. Thomas might actually want to see that.

It was... a bit warm.

Like, triple digits warm.

So, now I'm going to talk about something weird.

It didn't bother me all that much. The heat, I mean. It was hot, yes, but it didn't feel all that humid to me - at least I could breathe and not feel like I was trying to do it through a hot, wet cotton blanket. I was sweating - and that rather profusely - but it didn't... bother me. I brought a water bottle with me, and drained it twice, plus had a bottle of tea. I remembered to get sun screen (and amazingly enough, I even USED it!) but I did get a little burned anyway. Not too bad, and I put aloe on it as soon as I got home. I even remembered to wear a hat.

I usually hate hot. I hate being out in it. I hate the feeling that the soles of my shoes are melting, and that shimmery weirdness that hovers over blacktop. I hate squinting into the sun, or walking far at all.

Except that I didn't. I kept expecting to hate it, to wish I'd suggested anything else in the world. To be tired and miserable. Except that I wasn't. I'm not sure I would have described the weather as "nice", but it really wasn't that bad. My energy didn't flag too much - and I even climbed up two flights of stairs to look out from the observation gazebo.

We probably walked a good two to three miles or more - I'm not sure exactly, and Carol has a bum knee right now that was making things a little difficult for her.

It was all very pretty and green, even if the sun was baking the flowers right off their stems. There was a lot more to the gardens that I would have liked to have seen... anything called a Mystical Forest seems like it would be fun. And the butterfly maze. There's twelve miles of paths at the Gardens, there was no way we could have covered all of it in a single day, even if we'd had more time. But Carol's still breastfeeding her son, so she's got limited amounts of time that she can spend away from him. I'll definitely have to go back, though.

Saturday, I loved my energy. I loved my legs, which carried me around the day and didn't complain. I loved being able to climb up the observation dome without gasping for breath, and I loved being able to trot down the stairs without clinging desperately to the rail. I loved that, when we left, I was feeling like I could have done more and seen more, rather than being grateful to be climbing back into the car.

I've still got it going on! I'm happier with myself and my lifestyle change than I was last week. I feel good about what I've accomplished, and a little less afraid of how much further I still have to go.

Great Day

Thursdays are supposed to be my "day off."

Light or no housecleaning and no errands.

Despite that, I haven't been taking it recently. I've been making out my to-do list and to-doing it. I mean, obviously there are a few things I can't not do (cook dinner, do the dishes, etc) but there's no reason why I should continue to pile stuff up on myself. I deserve a day off once a week, it's only fair. I don't generally get to sleep late (Thomas is a really heavy sleeper, so expecting him to get up and take care of Darcy just doesn't work. In order to do it, he has to set an alarm - and then I'm awake - or I have to kick him several times to get him out of bed, in which case, I'm now both awake and MAD. So, honestly, I may as well just get up...) and I don't really like going out of the house by myself, so I don't generally take a Mom's Day off.

Being a stay at home mom is like... having your job 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with no time off for good behavior.

Even when I take a 'day off' it isn't, really. I still have to get lunch, drinks, television on, television off, kill bugs, rescue toys from monsters, look at this, look at that, look at ME, answer questions that don't make any sense, get snacks, clean up spills, etc etc.

But at least, when I'm having a 'day off' I don't add sweeping the floor, vacuuming, washing the windows, mopping, declutternig, etc.

So, I spent yesterday playing warcraft, and reading a book, and didn't pick up a single toy or put away a single pair of dirty socks. (No, for whatever reason, my husband is entirely incapable of taking his damn socks from the livingroom to the laundry hamper. Sigh.)

Wednesday, I kept careful track of everything I did for someone else, and every time I was nice, or at least, didn't strangle someone. I gave myself a sticker for tripping over a 12-pack of soda that had been left in the middle of the living room floor, but managing to NOT fall down, and then another one for promptly putting the 12-pack away, so it didn't happen again. Wednesday, I kept track of what I did.

Thursday, I kept track of what I didn't do.

I didn't lose my temper. I didn't have a meltdown about the fact that Thomas is also incapable of tossing his t-shirt in the hamper, despite the fact that the hamper is less than 2 feet from his side of the bed. (Ok, so I still NOTICED it, but I didn't clean it up, and I didn't get mad about it.)

I didn't allow myself to feel guilty for enjoying my day.

I didn't forget to take water with me on my walk, as it's 90 degrees out.

I didn't yell at Darcy for refusing to get dressed. So she stayed in her peejays most of the day. So what?

Yesterday was a great day!

Yesterday, I admired my skin. It's firm and unwrinkled. I don't have 'fine lines' around my eyes and mouth. My acne is clearing up incredibly. I'm getting a bit tanned from being outside so much, so I don't have the stereotypical fish-belly legs. Added attention to drinking water and to moisturizing has made the skin on my legs very soft and supple.

I've enjoyed reading the comments I've gotten so far, and I hope to hear/see some more soon! Come on, people, I know you're out there! What do you love about yourself?

Got It Goin' On (Contest #1)

So, completely off the topic, my other best friend is coming down to visit at the end of the month. This particular best friend lives in New York, and we only see her twice a year. We're pretty lucky to see her that much... and with gas rapidly approaching the $5 a gallon price-sticker, I don't know how much longer these road trips will continue.

[I have four best friends. This fact drives my other other best friend somewhat nuts, but at this point, she's been my best friend for seventeen years - oh, my dear GOD, has it really been seventeen years? She's probably getting a giggle about that, since I've been emphasizing the length of time we've known each other for a long time because it makes her uncomfortable about how old we are, and now the actual years, months, days (17 years/204 months/6,190 days) of it is completely flooring me. I don't know why... ah well, I'm old. I knew that - and she's used to it by now. The word favorite has never really clicked with me. What's my favorite color? Green, that nice minty shade. Or sometimes lime-colored green, or that deep forest green, and you know maroon is a nice color too, and I particularly like the way I look in navy blue, and there's nothing wrong with a rich shade of royal purple... My favorite band? Jethro Tull and Bob Dylan and Old 97's and Cowboy Mouth and Dire Straits and Indigo Girls and... you get the picture, I'm sure...]

I'm rambling. I had a point, but I misplaced it, so watch where you step, ok?

So, we're talking about regaining my enthusiasm..

I'm going to have 4 contests (yes, with prizes!) open to readers while I attempt to recapture my enthusiasm. (Don't step on that, either. It's probably not as sharp as my point, but it's fragile and I don't want it broken.)

This week's contest is about convincing myself that I deserve this!

I was talking to Thomas the other day about my flagging motivation. Despite the fact that he doesn't feel the same problems that I do, he always listens to me. And he almost always takes me seriously. This is a good thing. After being relegated to the bottom of the importance heap in my childhood (behind work, television, baseball, his work, television, and his wife... I came up in my father's life a distance 7th when I was in trouble, and not at all if I wasn't. My father was a great believer in "Children should neither be heard, nor seen." Weeks went by when I exchanged no more than the occasional greeting with the man.) if there's one thing in this world I won't tolerate, it's being ignored.

He listened, nodded in all the right places, then asked a single pointed question that I hadn't even considered.

"Are you scared?"

"What?" I wrenched my eyes up from their determined contemplation of his mouth. (First of all, I have trouble meeting someone's eye when I'm trying not to cry, and since I'm one of those people who can cry at the drop of a hat, I learned a long time ago to look carefully at someone's forehead, or their mouth. Most people can't tell, and it helps me keep a handle on the waterworks. Secondly, Thomas has the most wonderful, lush, sybaritic mouth, and I adore watching him talk. Ok, yes, even after 11 years together, I am still disgustingly in love with my husband. Get over it.)

He's rather relentless when he thinks he's on the right track. "You don't feel like you deserve to be thin. You feel like you're a failure, and since you haven't failed yet, you are contemplating sabotaging yourself in order to let that nasty little voice be able to say 'I told you so.' I've been watching you recently. When you're not thinking too hard about it, you're perfectly happy to look in the mirror and admire yourself. And as soon as you start thinking too much, you slump over and you won't look at yourself and you start up with the list of why you think you're unattractive."

Well, now I'm a bit pissed.

"Being thin is not going to make me beautiful," I say.

"It doesn't need to," he says. "You're already beautiful."

"You, my dear, are biased."

"I wasn't biased when we met, and you were beautiful then, too." (He's quite right about that. With Thomas and I, there wasn't any love at first sight. More like Intense Loathing. And Wanting to Kill the Other Person. If nothing else, you can say we both make really... lasting first impressions. Even if we did have to be literally dragged apart so we wouldn't start brawling...)

I'm surprised. "You thought that?"

"Okay, well, maybe not exactly when you were threatening to claw my eyes out. But, maybe the second or third time I saw you. Why do you think I kept showing up, knowing you were there. It was because you were so beautiful when you were angry that it was worth you being angry with me, just to see it."

Looking at his mouth is no longer enough. I start crying.

So, this week's Contest is: I Deserve It!

Every day this week (Today being Wednesday, and running until Tuesday, June 10th) I'm going to post about something I like about myself.

I'm also going to buy a packet of gold stars, and every time I do something right - anything right, diet, housekeeping, attitude, exercise, compliment someone else, compliment myself - I'm going to give myself a gold star. Because I deserve it. Because I'm worth it. Because I can do it.

This week, I'm going to know that I am right more often than I am wrong, better than I am bad, and nicer than I am nasty.

So, if you want to enter my Challenge; I Got it Going On! Leave a comment. Tell me what you like about yourself. What small accomplishments you've had today. What nice things you've done today and what a great person YOU are. Why you're beautiful, why you're special, and why you are worth it. Better yet, link me a blog entry about why you deserve it.

There will be a random prize drawn for one commenter over the week, and one prize for the best-written, most moving entry I receive. (I haven't chosen these prizes yet. I'll get them while I'm out buying my gold-stars)

Today, I have got it going on!

I love my hair. It's long and thick and strong, and unless certain people are tugging on it and saying "Oh, I love your cute little ponytails", it stays where I put it with a minimum of product. I love brushing it, and I love it when people run their fingers through it. (Well, as long as I know you relatively well....) I also love my eyebrows and my eyelashes. My mom used to accuse me of stealing her mascara when I was younger. I have never used mascara. I don't need to. I don't tweeze or pluck at my eyebrows. I think they look great exactly the way they are.