I've been "on vacation" for the last few days. What started as a reunion party for my college's science fiction club has become a full-on yearly summer party. Starting some time around the 4th of July and running full force until about the 12th, it's nothing but people, drinking, food, visitors, food, drinking, reminiscing, getting to tell the same old stories to new people... and hey, did I mention the food?
However, I've been pretty good with the food. Well, except for yesterday... I don't think I ate MUCH yesterday, but what I did eat was almost entirely chips. And salsa. But since I didn't eat the whole bag of chips, I think it was good. Well, not good, but not totally throwing myself down the stairs. When I'm chasing the last few tomatoes around the bottom of the salsa jar with a Popsicle stick, I might need some help.
And I've been working out... not at the gym, but I did walk a LOT, and did some running around in the park.
Despite that, my weight's up a bit. Probably all the salt.
Went to Yoga again today. Oh, I love it! My instructor was very impressed with me. Today's class structure was Abs, butt, and balance.
"Are you sure you're a novice?" she asked me after class. "You had your foot way up there during tree. And your balancing tiger? that was excellent. That's a really hard pose!"
Seriously, I love the gym, I've been enjoying my classes and the workouts... but if I had to pick why I'm staying at the gym, it's yoga class. I was sweating like crazy, but I feel soooooo good afterward.
- Lynn
- Chesapeake, VA, United States
- "How does one become a butterfly?" she asked pensively. "You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar." - Trina Paulus, Hope for the Flowers
Showing posts with label celebrations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label celebrations. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
Say you want a Resolution... (with apologies to the Beatles)
Well, glad that's over.
That being "the holiday season."
I haven't been enthusiastic about Christmas since, oh, I dunno, when I was thirteen or so. I'm not religious, I don't always like my family very much, and I never have as much money as I'd like to have.
Therefore, the holidays are stressful, expensive, boring, busy (I often wonder how boring and busy can go together, but just because I'm running around like a chicken minus its brainpan doesn't mean I'm interested in anything I'm doing...), and on top of that now, a major stumbling block towards my healthy-eating thing.
My brother-in-law came down for Thanksgiving (with his dog). This is the first time I've seen the man since I married his younger brother... TWELVE FREAKING YEARS AGO!
(Quick story; when I met his brother, I glanced between Thomas and his brother... and thought as far as looks went, I was getting off second best. Which is not to say I've ever thought my husband was UNattractive, but compared to his brother... well, let's just say 75 pounds doesn't really look good on anyone... and now... well, the two of them still look astonishingly alike, but I think I came out the long-term winner... his brother is still whippet thin, but he's also about two inches shorter and has an unfortunate tendency to dress in orange. Which made him quite popular with my child, whose favorite color is *also* orange, but doesn't really do great things for his complexion.)
And then we drove 10 hours down to Georgia to spend a week being bored with my mother. St. Simon's Island, Georgia might not be quite as bucolic as my dad's farm up in Spotsylvania, but... you're taking two complete geeks and dropping them someplace with 1 computer, dial-up connection, a 15-inch TV, no working DVD player, and no cell phone reception. Also, it was still cold as all get out, and my mother was recovering from knee replacement surgery. All of which means we had nothing to do and a lot of time to do it in. (We did give my step-dad a DVD player for his Xmas gift and the first thing Thomas did was set it up so we could watch teeny tiny star trek...)
And then we drove 10 hours back and my brother-in-law came back for New Year's. (with the dog again.)
Busy. And yet, boring.
I did gain some weight, but only about 3 pounds, and according to the Wii, I've already taken it right back off.
Maintenance sucks, just so you know. I thought it would get easier, but it doesn't. I really need to get my shit together and drop another 5 pounds or so, just so I have a little more wiggle room. I've already had to pay for one meeting in December. (I was 1.6 over my 2 pound tolerance... which is actually 3.6 pounds up from goal... blah!)
Anyway...
This year, I'd like to give myself the following:
Continued good health.
I intend to achieve this by dropping to at least 129 pounds (at the moment, that's a needed loss of less than 5 pounds). I further would like to keep in shape by continuing to go to the fitness center at least twice, and preferably three times a week. I would also like to get in at least 30 minutes of yoga per week.
Less stress.
I intend to achieve this by continuing with my good housekeeping skills. I also intend to start keeping a budget, so that I can track why we never seem to have any extra money. I am keeping a weekly calendar as well, so I can better track my daughter's homework and school stuff, appointments, and birthdays, so I can stop stressing out last minute when I either remember that I forgot something, or find out that my cousin's birthday is TOMORROW.
More time with friends.
This year, to try to cut down on the amount of money I spent on people's Christmas presents, I gave my closest friends a small token gift and a certificate. These certificates are set up that I will spend one afternoon/evening with each of my friends (once a month), take them out to dinner and a movie, or go to a museam, or a baseball game, or whatever... this will allow me to spend more time with the people I care about and also to spread a Christmas budget over the course of a year, so that I'm not overwhelmed with it.
Better family.
I would like to try to continue relations with my aunts and cousins and my brother-in-law. I intend to do this by mailing out cards for holidays and birthdays, calling to chat once a month (rotating through the couins and aunts, so that I don't call anyone more than twice a year... the phone lines do go BOTH WAYS...) I'd also like to spend more quality time with my daugther. Once a month, I'd like to do something for her - go see a movie, go to a museam, go to the park, etc.
Continued improved self esteem.
I'm starting with a professional photo shoot tomorrow, in an attempt to get some better pictures of me in the house. I'd also like to continue with my social service. Once a month, I'd like to give something back to the community; volunteer my time or give blood, or select a charity and make a donation, or give items to the Thrift store.
The gift of reading.
I have recently reaquired a library card, and I've selected (from recommendations) 12 books to read over the course of the year. My goal is to read 2 "new" books per month.
So, those are my goals for 2010 (that's pronounced twenty-ten, thank you very much!)
1 - lose ~5 pounds and maintain my weight
2 - get to the gym
3 - do some yoga
4 - keep up with Flylady
5 - budget!
6 - use weekly calendar (track daughter's homework and projects better)
7 - more time with friends
8 - keep in touch with my relatives
9 - work on self-esteem
10 - read 2 new books every month
How about you? What's on your plate for 2010?
That being "the holiday season."
I haven't been enthusiastic about Christmas since, oh, I dunno, when I was thirteen or so. I'm not religious, I don't always like my family very much, and I never have as much money as I'd like to have.
Therefore, the holidays are stressful, expensive, boring, busy (I often wonder how boring and busy can go together, but just because I'm running around like a chicken minus its brainpan doesn't mean I'm interested in anything I'm doing...), and on top of that now, a major stumbling block towards my healthy-eating thing.
My brother-in-law came down for Thanksgiving (with his dog). This is the first time I've seen the man since I married his younger brother... TWELVE FREAKING YEARS AGO!
(Quick story; when I met his brother, I glanced between Thomas and his brother... and thought as far as looks went, I was getting off second best. Which is not to say I've ever thought my husband was UNattractive, but compared to his brother... well, let's just say 75 pounds doesn't really look good on anyone... and now... well, the two of them still look astonishingly alike, but I think I came out the long-term winner... his brother is still whippet thin, but he's also about two inches shorter and has an unfortunate tendency to dress in orange. Which made him quite popular with my child, whose favorite color is *also* orange, but doesn't really do great things for his complexion.)
And then we drove 10 hours down to Georgia to spend a week being bored with my mother. St. Simon's Island, Georgia might not be quite as bucolic as my dad's farm up in Spotsylvania, but... you're taking two complete geeks and dropping them someplace with 1 computer, dial-up connection, a 15-inch TV, no working DVD player, and no cell phone reception. Also, it was still cold as all get out, and my mother was recovering from knee replacement surgery. All of which means we had nothing to do and a lot of time to do it in. (We did give my step-dad a DVD player for his Xmas gift and the first thing Thomas did was set it up so we could watch teeny tiny star trek...)
And then we drove 10 hours back and my brother-in-law came back for New Year's. (with the dog again.)
Busy. And yet, boring.
I did gain some weight, but only about 3 pounds, and according to the Wii, I've already taken it right back off.
Maintenance sucks, just so you know. I thought it would get easier, but it doesn't. I really need to get my shit together and drop another 5 pounds or so, just so I have a little more wiggle room. I've already had to pay for one meeting in December. (I was 1.6 over my 2 pound tolerance... which is actually 3.6 pounds up from goal... blah!)
Anyway...
This year, I'd like to give myself the following:
Continued good health.
I intend to achieve this by dropping to at least 129 pounds (at the moment, that's a needed loss of less than 5 pounds). I further would like to keep in shape by continuing to go to the fitness center at least twice, and preferably three times a week. I would also like to get in at least 30 minutes of yoga per week.
Less stress.
I intend to achieve this by continuing with my good housekeeping skills. I also intend to start keeping a budget, so that I can track why we never seem to have any extra money. I am keeping a weekly calendar as well, so I can better track my daughter's homework and school stuff, appointments, and birthdays, so I can stop stressing out last minute when I either remember that I forgot something, or find out that my cousin's birthday is TOMORROW.
More time with friends.
This year, to try to cut down on the amount of money I spent on people's Christmas presents, I gave my closest friends a small token gift and a certificate. These certificates are set up that I will spend one afternoon/evening with each of my friends (once a month), take them out to dinner and a movie, or go to a museam, or a baseball game, or whatever... this will allow me to spend more time with the people I care about and also to spread a Christmas budget over the course of a year, so that I'm not overwhelmed with it.
Better family.
I would like to try to continue relations with my aunts and cousins and my brother-in-law. I intend to do this by mailing out cards for holidays and birthdays, calling to chat once a month (rotating through the couins and aunts, so that I don't call anyone more than twice a year... the phone lines do go BOTH WAYS...) I'd also like to spend more quality time with my daugther. Once a month, I'd like to do something for her - go see a movie, go to a museam, go to the park, etc.
Continued improved self esteem.
I'm starting with a professional photo shoot tomorrow, in an attempt to get some better pictures of me in the house. I'd also like to continue with my social service. Once a month, I'd like to give something back to the community; volunteer my time or give blood, or select a charity and make a donation, or give items to the Thrift store.
The gift of reading.
I have recently reaquired a library card, and I've selected (from recommendations) 12 books to read over the course of the year. My goal is to read 2 "new" books per month.
So, those are my goals for 2010 (that's pronounced twenty-ten, thank you very much!)
1 - lose ~5 pounds and maintain my weight
2 - get to the gym
3 - do some yoga
4 - keep up with Flylady
5 - budget!
6 - use weekly calendar (track daughter's homework and projects better)
7 - more time with friends
8 - keep in touch with my relatives
9 - work on self-esteem
10 - read 2 new books every month
How about you? What's on your plate for 2010?
Monday, October 19, 2009
173,942 (Now What?)
I'm having PMS. Post-marathon Syndrome.
Otherwise known as the "now whatism".
For the 3-Day event, I trained for over eight months. I raised a lot of money (no where near the amount that one woman did... she got the taj matent... $24,000... impressive.) and basically had one driving goal for most of a year.
In the process of meeting that goal, I also lost another 22 pounds, worked my endurance up, whittled myself down to a tiny size 4 - I'm still astonished by that, just so you know - did 200 squats, 100 pushups, 200 situps. Walked countless miles. Wore through three pairs of shoes. Bought a sleeping bag, ground pad, and a crapton of gear for the event.
At the event, I met a bunch of really wonderful women (and a few pretty cool guys, too...). I felt strong, impressive, happy, sad, angry, frustrated, empowered, triumphant. I walked all 58.5 of the route miles, plus quite a bit more wandering around camp, crossing the pit stop stations multiple times to go pee, get food and drink, and stretch. My total steps for the weekend were 173,942. As my stride length says it takes me ~2200 steps to get a mile, that's ALMOST 80 miles over the course of a weekend.
I got to see my mother for the first time since right after her surgery. I carried a dozen or more rally flags. I met survivors, both of breast cancer and losing someone they loved to the disease. I danced on street corners. I made the same two jokes about 40 times each. ("I spy with my little eye... something that is pink!" and "I live in a swamp! I'm not used to hills. Where I live, the only hills are the man-made ones that are on the golf course, and oddly enough, they don't let me walk there!")
And now I'm home again.
And I've been here for two weeks.
And I don't really know what to do with myself.
I mean, seriously. How do I top this?
Some of my friends are being a little funny about it. "Why do you have to top it?" Me, "Well, because I'm only 37 years old... if this is the pinacle... wow..."
My husband was more like, "Well, what was the really big part of it for you? The endurance training, the fund raising, or the emotional aspect? If you can figure that out, you'll know which direction you want to head next."
I've been considering doing Hershey's Tour de Pink next year, if I can get a bike.
I don't know. I just feel a little... down.
It's hard to go back to doing the dishes after you've spent the weekend feeling like a goddess...
Otherwise known as the "now whatism".
For the 3-Day event, I trained for over eight months. I raised a lot of money (no where near the amount that one woman did... she got the taj matent... $24,000... impressive.) and basically had one driving goal for most of a year.
In the process of meeting that goal, I also lost another 22 pounds, worked my endurance up, whittled myself down to a tiny size 4 - I'm still astonished by that, just so you know - did 200 squats, 100 pushups, 200 situps. Walked countless miles. Wore through three pairs of shoes. Bought a sleeping bag, ground pad, and a crapton of gear for the event.
At the event, I met a bunch of really wonderful women (and a few pretty cool guys, too...). I felt strong, impressive, happy, sad, angry, frustrated, empowered, triumphant. I walked all 58.5 of the route miles, plus quite a bit more wandering around camp, crossing the pit stop stations multiple times to go pee, get food and drink, and stretch. My total steps for the weekend were 173,942. As my stride length says it takes me ~2200 steps to get a mile, that's ALMOST 80 miles over the course of a weekend.
I got to see my mother for the first time since right after her surgery. I carried a dozen or more rally flags. I met survivors, both of breast cancer and losing someone they loved to the disease. I danced on street corners. I made the same two jokes about 40 times each. ("I spy with my little eye... something that is pink!" and "I live in a swamp! I'm not used to hills. Where I live, the only hills are the man-made ones that are on the golf course, and oddly enough, they don't let me walk there!")
And now I'm home again.
And I've been here for two weeks.
And I don't really know what to do with myself.
I mean, seriously. How do I top this?
Some of my friends are being a little funny about it. "Why do you have to top it?" Me, "Well, because I'm only 37 years old... if this is the pinacle... wow..."
My husband was more like, "Well, what was the really big part of it for you? The endurance training, the fund raising, or the emotional aspect? If you can figure that out, you'll know which direction you want to head next."
I've been considering doing Hershey's Tour de Pink next year, if I can get a bike.
I don't know. I just feel a little... down.
It's hard to go back to doing the dishes after you've spent the weekend feeling like a goddess...
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Moments
When I was a child, like no older than nine, I developed a massive crush on my dad's best friend, Tip.
Tippy was sweet and didn't talk to me like I was an idiot. He was good looking, tall and thin, with a ready smile. I always looked forward to seeing him, and generally held him in my mind as one of the ideals of manhood. I think I gave up hope of getting him to notice me as a woman... oh, when I was like 27. Like. At my wedding.
I saw him this weekend, for the first time in like 2 years. (Last year, as you might recall, we decided to skip my dad's annual 4th of July BBQ because we weren't ready to face buffet-style eating...)
So, you know, the last time Tip saw me, I weighed in at over 200 pounds.
When he saw me, he gave me a big hug and kiss and said in my ear, "My god, you look fantastic!"
And when he went to leave, he picked me up and spun me around a few times. "You know I love you, right, kid?"
Watch out, Thomas... your competition is back.
Tippy was sweet and didn't talk to me like I was an idiot. He was good looking, tall and thin, with a ready smile. I always looked forward to seeing him, and generally held him in my mind as one of the ideals of manhood. I think I gave up hope of getting him to notice me as a woman... oh, when I was like 27. Like. At my wedding.
I saw him this weekend, for the first time in like 2 years. (Last year, as you might recall, we decided to skip my dad's annual 4th of July BBQ because we weren't ready to face buffet-style eating...)
So, you know, the last time Tip saw me, I weighed in at over 200 pounds.
When he saw me, he gave me a big hug and kiss and said in my ear, "My god, you look fantastic!"
And when he went to leave, he picked me up and spun me around a few times. "You know I love you, right, kid?"
Watch out, Thomas... your competition is back.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Decked Out
My birthday was last week (Happy Birthday, me) and as usual, my enthusiasm for this fact was at an all time low. I don't know, really, why my birthday bothers me so much, but it does.
And it's one of those weird, contradictory sorts of things; I don't want people to make a fuss about it. At the same time, if people forget about it, I'm grumpy. I do apologize to all my friends for whom I have been ungrateful, annoying, and otherwise cantankerous about it.
(My husband theorizes that it's my mother's fault, because my birthday parties as a kid weren't for me so much as they were for her to show off the amount of money my dad made, and frequently involved inviting people I didn't like to my party. Seriously. The girl who wouldn't let me wait on her porch for the bus, even when it was pouring down rain while everyone else from the block sat inside and watched tv? Came to my birthday party - sans present - every. single. year. My birthday parties tended to be pretty fancy for the time; my mom did things like rent out the local video arcade, or took everyone to the movies, or Kings Dominion... and the cakes were fantastic. The one year we did the video arcade? My cake was a giant pacman, with a smaller cake as the power-dot and cupcakes as the point-dots. Pretty nifty... and yet, I'd spend the whole party sulking because Donna was there, making sure my guests didn't actually talk to me, breaking my presents, and telling me how ugly I was. Or that so-and-so CuteBoy from school thought I was a slimy, diseased little gecko. Oh well, at least she was creative.)
Anyway, I did get some really spiff stuff for my birthday and I'm quite happy with my gifts...
From one friend, I got a heart-rate monitor/pedometer watch. This thing has some serious bells and whistles... I'm still figuring it all out, but it does record my steps, check my heart rate, keep track of milage, displays my calories burned, etc. I've had a couple of problems with it, the first of which is a design flaw and the second of which is my inability to actually remember how to use any sort of complicated gidget.... the first problem is that the step-meter turns itself off after 15 minutes of inactivity; which means if I'm sitting at my computer desk for a bit, I have to remember to turn it back on. The second problem is that I'm constantly, accidentally recording my current heart rate as my resting heart rate. I think (I'm not sure, but I think) that this is botching up my calories burned number, since if my "resting" heart rate is recorded as 120, it doesn't think I'm working very hard when my heart rate is 150.
She also gave me a bottle of sunscreen (yes, thank you for the hint, my sunburn is much better...) and a flashlight for my walk.
My other friend got me a waistpack for my walking that carries one water bottle and has a multitude of pockets and straps. I'll be road-testing that on Sunday, but so far is seems pretty good. If nothing else, it'll STOP me from hurting my collarbone with wearing my shoulder-bag incorrectly. (I've got a nice wear-spot on my chest... dang, when did I get these bony things just under my neck? weird! weird!)
So, I'm all decked out for my walking!
And it's one of those weird, contradictory sorts of things; I don't want people to make a fuss about it. At the same time, if people forget about it, I'm grumpy. I do apologize to all my friends for whom I have been ungrateful, annoying, and otherwise cantankerous about it.
(My husband theorizes that it's my mother's fault, because my birthday parties as a kid weren't for me so much as they were for her to show off the amount of money my dad made, and frequently involved inviting people I didn't like to my party. Seriously. The girl who wouldn't let me wait on her porch for the bus, even when it was pouring down rain while everyone else from the block sat inside and watched tv? Came to my birthday party - sans present - every. single. year. My birthday parties tended to be pretty fancy for the time; my mom did things like rent out the local video arcade, or took everyone to the movies, or Kings Dominion... and the cakes were fantastic. The one year we did the video arcade? My cake was a giant pacman, with a smaller cake as the power-dot and cupcakes as the point-dots. Pretty nifty... and yet, I'd spend the whole party sulking because Donna was there, making sure my guests didn't actually talk to me, breaking my presents, and telling me how ugly I was. Or that so-and-so CuteBoy from school thought I was a slimy, diseased little gecko. Oh well, at least she was creative.)
Anyway, I did get some really spiff stuff for my birthday and I'm quite happy with my gifts...
From one friend, I got a heart-rate monitor/pedometer watch. This thing has some serious bells and whistles... I'm still figuring it all out, but it does record my steps, check my heart rate, keep track of milage, displays my calories burned, etc. I've had a couple of problems with it, the first of which is a design flaw and the second of which is my inability to actually remember how to use any sort of complicated gidget.... the first problem is that the step-meter turns itself off after 15 minutes of inactivity; which means if I'm sitting at my computer desk for a bit, I have to remember to turn it back on. The second problem is that I'm constantly, accidentally recording my current heart rate as my resting heart rate. I think (I'm not sure, but I think) that this is botching up my calories burned number, since if my "resting" heart rate is recorded as 120, it doesn't think I'm working very hard when my heart rate is 150.
She also gave me a bottle of sunscreen (yes, thank you for the hint, my sunburn is much better...) and a flashlight for my walk.
My other friend got me a waistpack for my walking that carries one water bottle and has a multitude of pockets and straps. I'll be road-testing that on Sunday, but so far is seems pretty good. If nothing else, it'll STOP me from hurting my collarbone with wearing my shoulder-bag incorrectly. (I've got a nice wear-spot on my chest... dang, when did I get these bony things just under my neck? weird! weird!)
So, I'm all decked out for my walking!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Fantastic
Well, I'm officially in my last 10 pounds to lose...
And (according to my weight watcher's weigh in) I am officially in a healthy BMI range. Keeping in mind that I weigh in at 5:30pm, fully dressed, my "official" weigh ins tend to range about 5 pounds heavier than my morning Wii weigh in. Which means, technically, I can now declare my goal weight at any time. I think I'm still going to push to get down to 130 before I declare goal, but I could say goal was Right Here and that would be acceptable for Weight Watchers.
After my weigh in yesterday morning on the wii (I'll tell ya, I'm starting to get sick and tired of that stupid little smug bastard, the wii fit board...) in which I gained 1.8 pounds and had to go through a lecture from the Fit Board about not eating late at night, blah blah blah... I really wasn't looking forward to my official weigh in. After having gained 1.4 pounds last week, I just didn't think I could face another gain.
It's completely annoying when the fact that I exercise a LOT is throwing my weight off in the wrong direction.
However, that turned out not to be the case; as my official weigh in had me down 2.6 pounds from last week... I dunno what the problem is with the Fit. Maybe the carpet is wonking it up somehow...
Topping a good weigh in off with news that my husband is going to take me to the ballet (Romeo and Juliet) as my birthday present, and the fact that my car needed no repairs to pass inspection, my foul mood from yesterday has turned completely over on its head.
And (according to my weight watcher's weigh in) I am officially in a healthy BMI range. Keeping in mind that I weigh in at 5:30pm, fully dressed, my "official" weigh ins tend to range about 5 pounds heavier than my morning Wii weigh in. Which means, technically, I can now declare my goal weight at any time. I think I'm still going to push to get down to 130 before I declare goal, but I could say goal was Right Here and that would be acceptable for Weight Watchers.
After my weigh in yesterday morning on the wii (I'll tell ya, I'm starting to get sick and tired of that stupid little smug bastard, the wii fit board...) in which I gained 1.8 pounds and had to go through a lecture from the Fit Board about not eating late at night, blah blah blah... I really wasn't looking forward to my official weigh in. After having gained 1.4 pounds last week, I just didn't think I could face another gain.
It's completely annoying when the fact that I exercise a LOT is throwing my weight off in the wrong direction.
However, that turned out not to be the case; as my official weigh in had me down 2.6 pounds from last week... I dunno what the problem is with the Fit. Maybe the carpet is wonking it up somehow...
Topping a good weigh in off with news that my husband is going to take me to the ballet (Romeo and Juliet) as my birthday present, and the fact that my car needed no repairs to pass inspection, my foul mood from yesterday has turned completely over on its head.
Sometimes it seems like such a hard life
But there's good times around the bend
The rollercoaster's got to roll to the bottom
If you want to climb to the top again
Good Times Around the Bend, String Cheese Incident
Friday, April 10, 2009
New Shirt and Wii Challenge
I stared at the shirts.
What kind ofmasochistic bastard crazed fashion designer came up with this?
The shirts were pale colored, light blue and white, peach and white, pale pink and white. With a breast pocket. And a row of four buttons at the neck.
And horizontal stripes.
Now admittedly, I stopped shopping in the plus section quite a while ago, but I still view horizontal stripes as clothing only for stick women who are pretending they have breasts and prisoners.
I made a face. I loved the style of the shirt. And I adore that pale teal color. And I've always liked that semi-tye-die patterning... also, it was on sale. $2.99.
Ah hells.
What was the worst that could happen?
I snatched it off the rack and tossed it in my cart. I was already trying on a couple pairs of shorts. (Jean shorts, I'd grabbed a 6, and 8 and a 10. I've been having trouble with shorts recently... and some bright colorful cotton shorts in small and medium.)
I ended up trying it on without actually looking too carefully at it. I made sure it fit, and then took it off again.
This morning, I decided to wear it. I slid it over my head and then turned to the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles.
Wow.
One of the problems I've recently been having (with me and the mirror) is that I feel like my chest has shrunk enormously while the fat layer just below my ribs has... well, NOT.
Not according to this shirt. Wow.
Just seriously. I'm not being able to get over looking at myself.
I look like a brick house.
I think I'll be headed back to the K-mart this weekend and pick up several more of these tees in the other available colors.
Me and some friends are going to be doing a Wii Challenge this week, starting the 13th and running until the 19th. For starters, we'll be just doing 4 sessions during that week, of at least 15 minutes, and posting our high scores to each other.
Sounds like fun, I'll keep you posted on how we're doing...
What kind of
The shirts were pale colored, light blue and white, peach and white, pale pink and white. With a breast pocket. And a row of four buttons at the neck.
And horizontal stripes.
Now admittedly, I stopped shopping in the plus section quite a while ago, but I still view horizontal stripes as clothing only for stick women who are pretending they have breasts and prisoners.
I made a face. I loved the style of the shirt. And I adore that pale teal color. And I've always liked that semi-tye-die patterning... also, it was on sale. $2.99.
Ah hells.
What was the worst that could happen?
I snatched it off the rack and tossed it in my cart. I was already trying on a couple pairs of shorts. (Jean shorts, I'd grabbed a 6, and 8 and a 10. I've been having trouble with shorts recently... and some bright colorful cotton shorts in small and medium.)
I ended up trying it on without actually looking too carefully at it. I made sure it fit, and then took it off again.
This morning, I decided to wear it. I slid it over my head and then turned to the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles.
Wow.One of the problems I've recently been having (with me and the mirror) is that I feel like my chest has shrunk enormously while the fat layer just below my ribs has... well, NOT.
Not according to this shirt. Wow.
Just seriously. I'm not being able to get over looking at myself.
I look like a brick house.
I think I'll be headed back to the K-mart this weekend and pick up several more of these tees in the other available colors.
_______________
Me and some friends are going to be doing a Wii Challenge this week, starting the 13th and running until the 19th. For starters, we'll be just doing 4 sessions during that week, of at least 15 minutes, and posting our high scores to each other.
Sounds like fun, I'll keep you posted on how we're doing...
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
75 pounds (Time Keeps on Ticking...)
Last night I inched over another 5 pound marker.
They're getting further and further apart as my weight loss has become this epic crawl... and it was never all that speedy to begin with. (I know, I know, safe weight loss is no more than 2 pounds a week, but hey, there's a big space in between .5 pounds a week and 2 pounds a week and I wouldn't mind sticking my weight loss averages into a slightly closer to maybe getting this done sometime this century...) Seriously; it took me eight weeks to lose five pounds... at that rate, it's going to take me twenty weeks to lose this last 13.6 pounds. So, look for me hitting my goal... oh, in September...
Ah well... it's not like I have anything better to do. Or that it's going to be over, once I reach goal weight... I'm never going to be able to eat six doughnuts and lose a pound anyway, like my husband does. So I may as well just get used to the idea that I will always have to guard myself carefully and watch everything I eat. For the rest of my life.
God, that's depressing.
I'm not meaning to be. It's actually been a pretty good week; Thomas finally got a promotion at work which came with an actual pay raise and no additional responsibilities. (That would be different from some of his previous promotions which involved a cut in take-home pay and significantly more responsibilities. I'm perfectly serious; when he moved from hourly to salary, he got a 10% pay raise, but by adding unpaid overtime and losing the double-pay for holidays, it resulted in a 3% net loss in our spending cash...)
I've just been sick for the last week and unable to hit the gym at all... Working out with a head cold is one thing, working out with an upper respiratory infection is something else entirely. I get really tired walking across the room, or coughing, or honestly much of anything. And the scary thing is, I remember when I felt like that all the time (minus the coughing... but seriously, I remember cleaning the living room in two foot chunks because bending over to pick up Darcy's toys made me tired.)...
I don't like it much.
It was Thomas's birthday and we had some fun; a smallish birthday party and then we went dancing up with some friends - which is to say, mostly we sat on barstools and listened to music. I managed to drag Thomas out onto the floor for one song, which is the first time he's danced with me in... three years. I think the last time was at my cousin's wedding. So, you know, I'm now set up with dancing until 2012.
They're getting further and further apart as my weight loss has become this epic crawl... and it was never all that speedy to begin with. (I know, I know, safe weight loss is no more than 2 pounds a week, but hey, there's a big space in between .5 pounds a week and 2 pounds a week and I wouldn't mind sticking my weight loss averages into a slightly closer to maybe getting this done sometime this century...) Seriously; it took me eight weeks to lose five pounds... at that rate, it's going to take me twenty weeks to lose this last 13.6 pounds. So, look for me hitting my goal... oh, in September...
Ah well... it's not like I have anything better to do. Or that it's going to be over, once I reach goal weight... I'm never going to be able to eat six doughnuts and lose a pound anyway, like my husband does. So I may as well just get used to the idea that I will always have to guard myself carefully and watch everything I eat. For the rest of my life.
God, that's depressing.
I'm not meaning to be. It's actually been a pretty good week; Thomas finally got a promotion at work which came with an actual pay raise and no additional responsibilities. (That would be different from some of his previous promotions which involved a cut in take-home pay and significantly more responsibilities. I'm perfectly serious; when he moved from hourly to salary, he got a 10% pay raise, but by adding unpaid overtime and losing the double-pay for holidays, it resulted in a 3% net loss in our spending cash...)
I've just been sick for the last week and unable to hit the gym at all... Working out with a head cold is one thing, working out with an upper respiratory infection is something else entirely. I get really tired walking across the room, or coughing, or honestly much of anything. And the scary thing is, I remember when I felt like that all the time (minus the coughing... but seriously, I remember cleaning the living room in two foot chunks because bending over to pick up Darcy's toys made me tired.)...
I don't like it much.
It was Thomas's birthday and we had some fun; a smallish birthday party and then we went dancing up with some friends - which is to say, mostly we sat on barstools and listened to music. I managed to drag Thomas out onto the floor for one song, which is the first time he's danced with me in... three years. I think the last time was at my cousin's wedding. So, you know, I'm now set up with dancing until 2012.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Standing in for Mii
I have nothing else to add.
P.S. Ok, I lied.... I have something else to add. My Mii is actually smiling. Or smirking, more exactly. It's my traditional expression, as you can see here...
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Giving Myself the Mad-Props
A few months ago, I wrote a short article for a truly inspiring and fun blogger, Scott "Q." Marcus, for his new, independent magazine, Two Words. While my submission was good, unfortunately print-costs and prior agreements ended up pushing my entry out in last minute cuts, but Mr. Marcus was gracious enough - and I certainly hope impressed enough - to ask me to join him in a side-endeavor for promoting the magazine and writers who were interested in the project.
I am, of course, happy to do so.
I don't usually spend a lot of time here talking about other bloggers; I figure you're all perfectly capable of glancing at my list of favorites on the side bar (which doesn't even begin to cover all the blogs I actually read; I'm RSS-subscribed to any number of other blogs which I haven't gotten around to adding to my blogroll...) and either reading or not.
Allow me a moment to do so, as it regards Scott "Q." Marcus. This man is beyond fascinating and beyond funny. He's real, in a way that often success stories don't always strike me as genuine. Sometimes, seeing the slim, neat, magazine-perfect "after" pictures don't always do anything for me. The walked around the block to defeat a cookie craving... while I understand how hard it is to sum up sucess in a pithy phrase or three, it also... well, those pithy phrases can really wear you down...
Changing your life, dieting, whatever you want to call it... that's hard bloody work. And Scott acknowledges the work, even after the "After" picture is taken. In his picture, he looks quite handsome, slim and witty, and in his writing, he's sometimes crazy, sometimes lazy, sometimes dry, and always, very, very human. When I was first getting started with my lifestyle change, Scott's blog was there for me. And even now, 75 pounds later, he's still there for me.
Being able to contribute to his cause, write for his magazine, or post on his group effort blog... that's a great honor to me, and one I hope fervently that he recognizes... On the one hand, he's done nothing for me but be who he is... and on the other hand, his example, his wit, and his gods-honest hope and faith in the perserverence and dedication in humanity in general... has helped me to do everything.
If you're interested, this is my article that didn't quite make the cut for the premier issue... I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I am, of course, happy to do so.
I don't usually spend a lot of time here talking about other bloggers; I figure you're all perfectly capable of glancing at my list of favorites on the side bar (which doesn't even begin to cover all the blogs I actually read; I'm RSS-subscribed to any number of other blogs which I haven't gotten around to adding to my blogroll...) and either reading or not.
Allow me a moment to do so, as it regards Scott "Q." Marcus. This man is beyond fascinating and beyond funny. He's real, in a way that often success stories don't always strike me as genuine. Sometimes, seeing the slim, neat, magazine-perfect "after" pictures don't always do anything for me. The walked around the block to defeat a cookie craving... while I understand how hard it is to sum up sucess in a pithy phrase or three, it also... well, those pithy phrases can really wear you down...
Changing your life, dieting, whatever you want to call it... that's hard bloody work. And Scott acknowledges the work, even after the "After" picture is taken. In his picture, he looks quite handsome, slim and witty, and in his writing, he's sometimes crazy, sometimes lazy, sometimes dry, and always, very, very human. When I was first getting started with my lifestyle change, Scott's blog was there for me. And even now, 75 pounds later, he's still there for me.
Being able to contribute to his cause, write for his magazine, or post on his group effort blog... that's a great honor to me, and one I hope fervently that he recognizes... On the one hand, he's done nothing for me but be who he is... and on the other hand, his example, his wit, and his gods-honest hope and faith in the perserverence and dedication in humanity in general... has helped me to do everything.
If you're interested, this is my article that didn't quite make the cut for the premier issue... I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Monday, February 23, 2009
One Down...
Little more than a month ago, I did a Bucket List... I'm not sure it's really a Bucket List, per se... just kind of an impulse sort of... "what would I like to do if I had unlimited time, money, and fitness..."
#6 on the list was: Do one-handed push-ups.
Scratch one thing off the list...
Friday I was completely kick ass at the gym. I felt good heading down there, I felt good while I was there.
The recumbent bike and I... are not really good friends.
I am apparently not the ideal they had in mind when designing the thing. Short, round, whatever... for one thing, my legs aren't quite long enough. I can either have the seat notched to 1.5 and be able to reach the pedals fine for the entire rotation, but my thighs bump into my stomach - at low speeds that's uncomfortable enough, and at high speeds tends to make me somewhat nauseated. Or I can have the seat notched to 2, and I can't reach the pedals at the full extension, which means rather than push left, push right, my cycling goes more like push right, pull left, pull right, push left, which does not do well for maintaining speed at all.
In either setting, there's a little divet in the seat - I guess it's to put your ass crack over, but mine's apparently in the wrong place, because no matter HOW I sit, I always end up with that bump under one butt-check or the other. This is uncomfortable to sit on, regardless of what speed I'm pedaling.
Third of all, the front handles are too far away, causing me to involuntarily pull back towards myself while pedaling, as if I'm trying to row a boat, and the side handles are set too closely to the bike-seat, compounding the whole thighs-hit-my-stomach problem by adding in a good dose of arms-are-squishing-against-my-boobs.
And those are just comfort issues with being ON the bike... that doesn't even begin to cover the whole resistance and pedaling and breathing and burning thighs and my hands get greasy and... and and and.
Doesn't matter. Twice a week, I do the bike. I set it for Intervals and vary back and forth between a resistance of 3 and resistance of 6 for 30 minutes, plus a 5 minute cool down at R2.
The routine goes this way, 2 mins at 3, 2 mins at 6, two mins at 3, ad nauseaum and there's a little LED displayer thing with dots. These dots supposedly are equal to another marker along the side to show you what your heart rate should be during these intervals... R3 gets two dots for "Fat Burn" and R6 gets 3 dots, which pushes it into "Cardio". (However, unlike the treadmill, the bike doesn't have the bare metal handgrips to monitor your actual heart rate, which is too bad. I think I'd burn a lot more calories - according to the readout - if the damn thing could see how fast my heart was actually going...) So while I'm biking, I stare at little dots... each dot equals one minute...
Mostly because I find biking to be a real chore, I started mathing out my biking speed versus the little dots... Ok, I'd gone X miles in Y time, that means I'm doing a little under 10mph, or approximately 1 mile per 6 dots. Half a mile in three dots. .16 miles in 1 dot.
Could I push that up some, I started wondering. Could I force myself to get from 1.45 miles to 1.63 miles in 1 minute?
Sometimes I can; sometimes I can't.
Friday, I was in the Zone. My legs weren't burning as much, and while I was sweating like crazy - hell, even my wrists were slick with persperation - I didn't feel bad.
I managed to push myself for the entire 30 minutes to pedal at least .2 miles per minute. That's 1 mile every 5 minutes, or a 20% increase in my speed.
So, I got off the bike feeling very damp, but proud. I did my short walk, in which I am currently maintaining a 3.0 - 3.2 speed (trying to build walking endurance, not speed) with variable inclines (between .5 and 7.5) and then decided to hit the weight room for a bit. I was still feeling strong and good to go.
A few weeks ago, MizFit pointed me at an entry from last year about tricep excercises, something I've been looking into because my pushups are giving me a wicked bicep, but if I don't balance it out soon, I'm going to look sort of malaportioned. Headed back to the weight room, I sat on the bench for a minute while I considered my options and then I thought, "I wonder if I can do those tricep dip things?" So I pushed the weight bench out from under the cable-weights and tried it. Ok, that wasn't too bad. I did a set of ten, then sat for a bit, then ten more, and sat. And ten more, and sat. I tried to do one last set of 10, but I just wasn't quite up for it, and clunked out at 5.
Feeling pleased with myself, I decided I'd go ahead and try the one-handed pushup. I've been a fan of these particular exercises for a while; they are serious hard-core.
It took me a few minutes to get the proper balance - that's part of the tricky bit to it is finding where you need to place your hand so that you don't tip over, that's also not preventing you from actually bending your elbow.
Astonishingly enough, I found the spot. I tucked my right arm behind my back, and lowered, then raised. I was, to say the least, a bit surprised. But not tired. I lowered again, and came back up. Wow. Two. And then a third.
And a fourth.
Well. Cross one thing off my list. 42 more to go...
#6 on the list was: Do one-handed push-ups.
Scratch one thing off the list...
Friday I was completely kick ass at the gym. I felt good heading down there, I felt good while I was there.
The recumbent bike and I... are not really good friends.
I am apparently not the ideal they had in mind when designing the thing. Short, round, whatever... for one thing, my legs aren't quite long enough. I can either have the seat notched to 1.5 and be able to reach the pedals fine for the entire rotation, but my thighs bump into my stomach - at low speeds that's uncomfortable enough, and at high speeds tends to make me somewhat nauseated. Or I can have the seat notched to 2, and I can't reach the pedals at the full extension, which means rather than push left, push right, my cycling goes more like push right, pull left, pull right, push left, which does not do well for maintaining speed at all.
In either setting, there's a little divet in the seat - I guess it's to put your ass crack over, but mine's apparently in the wrong place, because no matter HOW I sit, I always end up with that bump under one butt-check or the other. This is uncomfortable to sit on, regardless of what speed I'm pedaling.
Third of all, the front handles are too far away, causing me to involuntarily pull back towards myself while pedaling, as if I'm trying to row a boat, and the side handles are set too closely to the bike-seat, compounding the whole thighs-hit-my-stomach problem by adding in a good dose of arms-are-squishing-against-my-boobs.
And those are just comfort issues with being ON the bike... that doesn't even begin to cover the whole resistance and pedaling and breathing and burning thighs and my hands get greasy and... and and and.
Doesn't matter. Twice a week, I do the bike. I set it for Intervals and vary back and forth between a resistance of 3 and resistance of 6 for 30 minutes, plus a 5 minute cool down at R2.
The routine goes this way, 2 mins at 3, 2 mins at 6, two mins at 3, ad nauseaum and there's a little LED displayer thing with dots. These dots supposedly are equal to another marker along the side to show you what your heart rate should be during these intervals... R3 gets two dots for "Fat Burn" and R6 gets 3 dots, which pushes it into "Cardio". (However, unlike the treadmill, the bike doesn't have the bare metal handgrips to monitor your actual heart rate, which is too bad. I think I'd burn a lot more calories - according to the readout - if the damn thing could see how fast my heart was actually going...) So while I'm biking, I stare at little dots... each dot equals one minute...
Mostly because I find biking to be a real chore, I started mathing out my biking speed versus the little dots... Ok, I'd gone X miles in Y time, that means I'm doing a little under 10mph, or approximately 1 mile per 6 dots. Half a mile in three dots. .16 miles in 1 dot.
Could I push that up some, I started wondering. Could I force myself to get from 1.45 miles to 1.63 miles in 1 minute?
Sometimes I can; sometimes I can't.
Friday, I was in the Zone. My legs weren't burning as much, and while I was sweating like crazy - hell, even my wrists were slick with persperation - I didn't feel bad.
I managed to push myself for the entire 30 minutes to pedal at least .2 miles per minute. That's 1 mile every 5 minutes, or a 20% increase in my speed.
So, I got off the bike feeling very damp, but proud. I did my short walk, in which I am currently maintaining a 3.0 - 3.2 speed (trying to build walking endurance, not speed) with variable inclines (between .5 and 7.5) and then decided to hit the weight room for a bit. I was still feeling strong and good to go.
A few weeks ago, MizFit pointed me at an entry from last year about tricep excercises, something I've been looking into because my pushups are giving me a wicked bicep, but if I don't balance it out soon, I'm going to look sort of malaportioned. Headed back to the weight room, I sat on the bench for a minute while I considered my options and then I thought, "I wonder if I can do those tricep dip things?" So I pushed the weight bench out from under the cable-weights and tried it. Ok, that wasn't too bad. I did a set of ten, then sat for a bit, then ten more, and sat. And ten more, and sat. I tried to do one last set of 10, but I just wasn't quite up for it, and clunked out at 5.
Feeling pleased with myself, I decided I'd go ahead and try the one-handed pushup. I've been a fan of these particular exercises for a while; they are serious hard-core.
It took me a few minutes to get the proper balance - that's part of the tricky bit to it is finding where you need to place your hand so that you don't tip over, that's also not preventing you from actually bending your elbow.
Astonishingly enough, I found the spot. I tucked my right arm behind my back, and lowered, then raised. I was, to say the least, a bit surprised. But not tired. I lowered again, and came back up. Wow. Two. And then a third.
And a fourth.
Well. Cross one thing off my list. 42 more to go...
Monday, February 2, 2009
Do Good, Feel Good
[Jeanne, dear, if you're reading this, it's... um... going to widge out your phobia, so you might want to just skip this entry. Yes, there are pictures. Yes, I say "that word" a few times. So, shoo! Or, at least, don't blame me when you throw up, ok? Ok.]
Despite some setbacks, I am still working on my self-esteem project.
I keep a little notebook by my desk and whenever I feel good, or do something good, I write it in my notebook. Every morning, when I first get up, I randomly flip through the notebook and see what I've done good recently. I've also been using it to track my workouts and push ups, since both of those things are impressive, and part of my routine (You get self-esteem from just sticking to your workout for no other reason than you ARE sticking to your workout. Interesting how that works, don't you think?)
I was, for a while, decorating the pages with stickers, too, but I've started using those stickers for my daughter's rewards for helping me clean the house. Sometimes I think I should get "I done good" marks for successfully implementing a child-chore system that Darcy can and does work well with. (Could that sentence possibly be written any WORSE? No, I didn't think so... ) But that's ok. Sometimes I still dot the page with a smilie sticker if it was a particularly good day.
I've been having a really great weekend, truth be told. Friday I got new pants (in a size. 8!!) Ok, seriously, I cannot get over how good that makes me feel. I knew my 12s were probably too big. Not so much in the waist - or at least, they weren't sliding down off my hips the way my 20s used to. (On the other hand, I waited to size down from 20s until I was in 14s, so you know, there's a bit of a gap there. Also, it seems like the larger the size is, the bigger the difference between that and the next size down. Where a 20 might be really loose, but an 18 is TOO DAMN TIGHT, I can currently get easily into a 12, slip into a 10, I can also get into an 8. Weird, that. Women's sizes are justfucked up strange.) Anyway, I went to the shop and picked around in the jeans section. I selected a few 10s that looked nice, grabbed a 12 "just in case" I'd merely stretched out these 12s, and picked up an 8... When I was first starting this weight loss thing, I mathed out... "Ok, it took me X weight to get from size 24 to 18, that means when I weigh 125 pounds, I should be... in 8s. Or maybe just barely into 6s. Wow. Six. Ok, we'll say 8s. So I picked up the 8s just to see how much further I had to go until I hit my "goal size."
And in the dressing room, I slowly took off my 12s, then stood, looking at the jeans hanging up on the wall. And I thought, "Well, I'll try the 8s on and get the disappointment out of the way first." And stepped into the 8s. And slid them up. Over the thighs, over the hips. I thought I'd get the V-zipper "and ne'er the twain shall meet" thing going and was flabbergasted when they zipped. UP. Closed. And no weird muffin-top thing going on.
OMG!
Now, honestly, they were a bit too long, so I went back to see if I could find 8 petites, but the 8 petites I could find were of a different brand and were, for some reason, slightly smaller in the waist. I could zip them up, but they did do the muffin-top thing, and really, that's just Not Attractive. So I ended up buying the 8 regulars and took them to a tailor to have them altered. Seriously, they are size 8 jeans and I'll be damned if I'm going to look like a refugee from a corn-shuckers convention by rolling them up three times. (They're $60 jeans, on sale for $15, so even paying $10 for someone to hem them for me is still a great bargain.)
Saturday we got together in a group of friends, gamed for a little while, then went bowling. Silly thing, bowling. I was doing really horribly at first, and Thomas - Mr. I-suck-at-bowling - had ranked up fairly quickly with a spare and a couple of strikes. Then, as I got more used to what I was doing (and I did some more visualizations just before I bowled), I got three strikes in a row, at the end of the set, to win the game.
I was pretty psyched about that, too. Not necessarily because I won, although it did feel good to win, but more because my visualization stuff is really paying off.
Yesterday, I did good Great!
Not just for me, but for other people. I gave blood for the first time since High School. (god, I graduated from high school like 18 years ago...) And in high school, I only did it because as a member of the National Honor Society, I was required to do "community service" and giving blood was easier than picking up trash alongside the highway. (I've done that, too, a few times, and my god, I hate it. And if I ever catch you throwing something out of your car window, I swear to god,I will shoot your ass right there and then. Or run you over with car. do something nasty and unpleasant.)
It wasn't too traumatic, altho the volunteer lady did have to wiggle the needle around a bit to get it in there. It didn't hurt much, but I'm awfully squeamish when it comes to my own blood, and I don't like looking at it. The really funny thing is, I signed up to give blood on Jan 15th, and just three days before my appointment, I found out about this. MaNiC MoMMy is doing another virtual blood drive, so not only did I give blood, but I got my picture taken, and entered for her contest. How cool is that? I was talking about giving blood with my friends on Saturday and my dear friend Leslie said, "Oh, I haven't donated recently," and she ended up tagging along with me, so we both gave. Double bonus cool points!
I've always liked the concept of the Karmic Boomerang. Do something good, get something good back, feel more like being and doing good, etc. (Also, the schadenfreude part of me loves the idea of people who are complete bastards having transmission failure at 3am on Church Street.)
Well, I got whapped with the Karmic Boomerang this morning.
Today, I got a release in my email box for permission to publish the article that I submitted for a magazine a few weeks back.
So, I've had a freaking wonderful weekend.
(I could wish that these things would be a little more spread out so I can savor and enjoy each moment... on the other hand, this buzz will keep me going for quite a while!)
Update, 10:15pm: My weigh in tonight was really good, lost 2.2 pounds (for a change, the husband thing did not outshine me, gaining .4 instead of losing more weight. This is good, since he's still about 5 pounds under his goal weight.) and have lost another daily point, dropping under 150 pounds. Tomorrow will be really busy, with workout, shower, Thomas's haircut, and a trip to the laundrymat, so I wasn't sure I've have time to make a Healthy You post tomorrow. So, I went ahead and did this one tonight.
Despite some setbacks, I am still working on my self-esteem project.
I keep a little notebook by my desk and whenever I feel good, or do something good, I write it in my notebook. Every morning, when I first get up, I randomly flip through the notebook and see what I've done good recently. I've also been using it to track my workouts and push ups, since both of those things are impressive, and part of my routine (You get self-esteem from just sticking to your workout for no other reason than you ARE sticking to your workout. Interesting how that works, don't you think?)
I was, for a while, decorating the pages with stickers, too, but I've started using those stickers for my daughter's rewards for helping me clean the house. Sometimes I think I should get "I done good" marks for successfully implementing a child-chore system that Darcy can and does work well with. (Could that sentence possibly be written any WORSE? No, I didn't think so... ) But that's ok. Sometimes I still dot the page with a smilie sticker if it was a particularly good day.
I've been having a really great weekend, truth be told. Friday I got new pants (in a size. 8!!) Ok, seriously, I cannot get over how good that makes me feel. I knew my 12s were probably too big. Not so much in the waist - or at least, they weren't sliding down off my hips the way my 20s used to. (On the other hand, I waited to size down from 20s until I was in 14s, so you know, there's a bit of a gap there. Also, it seems like the larger the size is, the bigger the difference between that and the next size down. Where a 20 might be really loose, but an 18 is TOO DAMN TIGHT, I can currently get easily into a 12, slip into a 10, I can also get into an 8. Weird, that. Women's sizes are just
And in the dressing room, I slowly took off my 12s, then stood, looking at the jeans hanging up on the wall. And I thought, "Well, I'll try the 8s on and get the disappointment out of the way first." And stepped into the 8s. And slid them up. Over the thighs, over the hips. I thought I'd get the V-zipper "and ne'er the twain shall meet" thing going and was flabbergasted when they zipped. UP. Closed. And no weird muffin-top thing going on.
OMG!
Now, honestly, they were a bit too long, so I went back to see if I could find 8 petites, but the 8 petites I could find were of a different brand and were, for some reason, slightly smaller in the waist. I could zip them up, but they did do the muffin-top thing, and really, that's just Not Attractive. So I ended up buying the 8 regulars and took them to a tailor to have them altered. Seriously, they are size 8 jeans and I'll be damned if I'm going to look like a refugee from a corn-shuckers convention by rolling them up three times. (They're $60 jeans, on sale for $15, so even paying $10 for someone to hem them for me is still a great bargain.)
Saturday we got together in a group of friends, gamed for a little while, then went bowling. Silly thing, bowling. I was doing really horribly at first, and Thomas - Mr. I-suck-at-bowling - had ranked up fairly quickly with a spare and a couple of strikes. Then, as I got more used to what I was doing (and I did some more visualizations just before I bowled), I got three strikes in a row, at the end of the set, to win the game.
I was pretty psyched about that, too. Not necessarily because I won, although it did feel good to win, but more because my visualization stuff is really paying off.
Yesterday, I did Not just for me, but for other people. I gave blood for the first time since High School. (god, I graduated from high school like 18 years ago...) And in high school, I only did it because as a member of the National Honor Society, I was required to do "community service" and giving blood was easier than picking up trash alongside the highway. (I've done that, too, a few times, and my god, I hate it. And if I ever catch you throwing something out of your car window, I swear to god,
It wasn't too traumatic, altho the volunteer lady did have to wiggle the needle around a bit to get it in there. It didn't hurt much, but I'm awfully squeamish when it comes to my own blood, and I don't like looking at it. The really funny thing is, I signed up to give blood on Jan 15th, and just three days before my appointment, I found out about this. MaNiC MoMMy is doing another virtual blood drive, so not only did I give blood, but I got my picture taken, and entered for her contest. How cool is that? I was talking about giving blood with my friends on Saturday and my dear friend Leslie said, "Oh, I haven't donated recently," and she ended up tagging along with me, so we both gave. Double bonus cool points!
I've always liked the concept of the Karmic Boomerang. Do something good, get something good back, feel more like being and doing good, etc. (Also, the schadenfreude part of me loves the idea of people who are complete bastards having transmission failure at 3am on Church Street.)
Well, I got whapped with the Karmic Boomerang this morning.
Today, I got a release in my email box for permission to publish the article that I submitted for a magazine a few weeks back.
So, I've had a freaking wonderful weekend.
(I could wish that these things would be a little more spread out so I can savor and enjoy each moment... on the other hand, this buzz will keep me going for quite a while!)
Update, 10:15pm: My weigh in tonight was really good, lost 2.2 pounds (for a change, the husband thing did not outshine me, gaining .4 instead of losing more weight. This is good, since he's still about 5 pounds under his goal weight.) and have lost another daily point, dropping under 150 pounds. Tomorrow will be really busy, with workout, shower, Thomas's haircut, and a trip to the laundrymat, so I wasn't sure I've have time to make a Healthy You post tomorrow. So, I went ahead and did this one tonight.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Visualize Whirled Peas
For a very long time, I've been stuck in the middle.
I looked back at the past with regrets, disappointment, remorse and guilt.
I looked forward, to the future, with dread, anxiety, and fear.
Not really a good way to live, but I embraced cynicism with both hands and took a perverse sort of pride in it.
Never once, not in twenty-five years, has anything I've dreaded actually happened.
Despite that, I've been hearing a lot about visualization. That I should visualize my weight loss, or visualize what I'll say and do at a party where I have to navigate dangerous snacks...
I've been rolling my eyes a little bit about it. It sounds a little crystal twinkie, don't ya think?
And yet, I've been a little worried this week. Not about anything earth shattering, but about my push up challenge.
I've been doing the 100 push up challenge with a group of twitterati... the idea is to do 100 push ups after a 6 (or 8, or 10) week regime. When I started, I did three push ups. Three. Ah well, I thought. No place to go but up, right?
Anyway, I just finished week 4, and let me tell ya, the regime is pretty tough. (I've been complaining that it never seems to get any easier, but I guess that's the point, right? To get more and more push ups out of the same, or slightly greater, effort...)
Every two weeks, we have an assessment that places you for the following week's push ups. Technically, it's supposed to tell you what rank you're in, so you can move on. On the down side, it also means if you can't do the push up minimums for the next week, you are supposed to go back and repeat two weeks worth of sets.
As I usually do, I've been looking at what I have left to do (and ignoring, for the most part, what I've already DONE...) and saw that to move forward for Week 5, I needed to do at least 31 pushups in a single set to move on.
I didn't think I was going to make it. The final sets in my weekly plan have been Do as Many as You Can, Minimum 16, 18, and 20. And those were killing me. How in the world was I going to manage 31?
So, just for something to try, Tuesday I started working on visualization. I would sit someplace quietly and clear my head and then imagine I was doing my push up assessment test. I went through the whole thing, starting with changing my shirt (I find I absolutely have to be wearing a sports bra while I do the pushups or... well, it just wasn't working for me, otherwise...), laying my towel out on the carpet (the carpet's pretty coarse and I find that my hands get sore if I don't have a towel down.)
And then, I'd mentally work through each pushup. Imagine the burn in my arm, the strain along the bicep and shoulder. I'd feel my breathing, pace myself. Count along. Up, down, one, two. I imagined the brief pauses at sixteen, and again at 25, where I hold myself in the up position and gather my wits and energy. I pretended to feel the shaking in my arms as I neared thirty, the ache along my wrist.
In my visualizing, I concentrated grimly on getting to thirty, then thirty one, and in a fit of adreniline and triumph, would bust out two more push ups before collapsing on the floor.
And my mental self would lay on the floor for a bit, then get up, pick up my towel, and go along with my day.
I rehearsed this exact scenario again on Wednesday and Thursday. Twice on Friday. And once, Saturday night right as I was falling asleep.
And then, this morning, when I was doing my assessment...
I did exactly thirty-three push ups.
Kinda cool, don't ya think?
I looked back at the past with regrets, disappointment, remorse and guilt.
I looked forward, to the future, with dread, anxiety, and fear.
Not really a good way to live, but I embraced cynicism with both hands and took a perverse sort of pride in it.
Never once, not in twenty-five years, has anything I've dreaded actually happened.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.Mary Schmich, Advice, like Youth, Probably Wasted on the Young
Despite that, I've been hearing a lot about visualization. That I should visualize my weight loss, or visualize what I'll say and do at a party where I have to navigate dangerous snacks...
I've been rolling my eyes a little bit about it. It sounds a little crystal twinkie, don't ya think?
And yet, I've been a little worried this week. Not about anything earth shattering, but about my push up challenge.
I've been doing the 100 push up challenge with a group of twitterati... the idea is to do 100 push ups after a 6 (or 8, or 10) week regime. When I started, I did three push ups. Three. Ah well, I thought. No place to go but up, right?
Anyway, I just finished week 4, and let me tell ya, the regime is pretty tough. (I've been complaining that it never seems to get any easier, but I guess that's the point, right? To get more and more push ups out of the same, or slightly greater, effort...)
Every two weeks, we have an assessment that places you for the following week's push ups. Technically, it's supposed to tell you what rank you're in, so you can move on. On the down side, it also means if you can't do the push up minimums for the next week, you are supposed to go back and repeat two weeks worth of sets.
As I usually do, I've been looking at what I have left to do (and ignoring, for the most part, what I've already DONE...) and saw that to move forward for Week 5, I needed to do at least 31 pushups in a single set to move on.
I didn't think I was going to make it. The final sets in my weekly plan have been Do as Many as You Can, Minimum 16, 18, and 20. And those were killing me. How in the world was I going to manage 31?
So, just for something to try, Tuesday I started working on visualization. I would sit someplace quietly and clear my head and then imagine I was doing my push up assessment test. I went through the whole thing, starting with changing my shirt (I find I absolutely have to be wearing a sports bra while I do the pushups or... well, it just wasn't working for me, otherwise...), laying my towel out on the carpet (the carpet's pretty coarse and I find that my hands get sore if I don't have a towel down.)
And then, I'd mentally work through each pushup. Imagine the burn in my arm, the strain along the bicep and shoulder. I'd feel my breathing, pace myself. Count along. Up, down, one, two. I imagined the brief pauses at sixteen, and again at 25, where I hold myself in the up position and gather my wits and energy. I pretended to feel the shaking in my arms as I neared thirty, the ache along my wrist.
In my visualizing, I concentrated grimly on getting to thirty, then thirty one, and in a fit of adreniline and triumph, would bust out two more push ups before collapsing on the floor.
And my mental self would lay on the floor for a bit, then get up, pick up my towel, and go along with my day.
I rehearsed this exact scenario again on Wednesday and Thursday. Twice on Friday. And once, Saturday night right as I was falling asleep.
And then, this morning, when I was doing my assessment...
I did exactly thirty-three push ups.
Kinda cool, don't ya think?
Friday, January 30, 2009
SINGLE FUCKING DIGITS
Pardon the swearing...
But REALLY!
It is absolutely necessary that I scream about this.
MY NEW GODDAMN PANTS ARE A SIZE 8!!!
Ok, you can go about your business, citizens. The only thing to see here is one seriously fine ass!
Move along.
Move along.
But REALLY!
It is absolutely necessary that I scream about this.
MY NEW GODDAMN PANTS ARE A SIZE 8!!!
Ok, you can go about your business, citizens. The only thing to see here is one seriously fine ass!
Move along.
Move along.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
So... Lifetime membership comes with... less benefits...
Thomas got lifetime last night.He started Jan 3, 2007, weighing in at 253.2 pounds.
Here's a picture of him in July of '06. At the time, he was wearing 44 x 32 pants and a size XXL t-shirt.
I never really thought we'd stick with this weight loss program. I tried not to talk about it too much because I didn't want to be discouraging, nor did I want to talk my way into quitting becoming reality.
I have often taken my husband's sloth-like tendencies for granted. He's not a really changeable sort of guy. Once he settles into his routine, it takes an act of god to get him moving again.
I would say he's decidedly shown me that he can be more than I expected.
I'm very proud.
(And truth be told, a tiny bit jealous, but you know, we're not going there...)
Here's what he looks like now:
81.8 pounds later, he weighs in at a lean 171.4 pounds.He's wearing 32 x 34 jeans (no, I don't really know where the extra 2 inches came from in the leg...) and a Medium shirt.
It's pretty amazing...
Despite being amazing, I must say I'm a little put out with Weight Watchers... apparently while Thomas now getting meetings for free, the Online eTools (should he chose to continue to use them) will cost him $16 a month. Given that eTools was free with the Monthly pass ($40 a month), is weight watchers really saying that meetings are worth ~$24 a month (or $6 per meeting?)... really, I don't see the servers that eTools being WORTH $16 a month...
Ah well... it's not like Thomas likes tracking anyway... this week upcoming, we're supposed to get the coaching on how to go back to Core (Simply Filling...) and I rather suspect he'll go back to that.
My own weight loss was somewhat less than impressive this week, only down .2 pounds. But you know, that's ok... when I look back through my food journal for the past week, I don't think I was eating enough for the amount of activity I added in. Part of it is the new tracking system. I'd gotten used to the way they did it before, which is to say, APs were used first, and then WPAs...
I had determined, through trial and error, that I needed to eat at least 3/4 of all APs and no FEWER than 12 WPS but no MORE than 25 for the best weight loss.
Last week, I earned 28 APs and ate... 17 flex points.
Bad Lynn!
So, this week's goals are to keep up with the workouts (did one today, 35 minutes on the bike, 5.4 miles and 35 minutes High Intensity Interval Training on the treadmill, varied back and forth between 2.5 mph at 5 incline and 3.5 mph at 2 incline, did 40 crunches, benched 50 pounds for 7 reps, did 20 pound bicep curls and tricep extensions, stretched, and walked back and forth to the gym which is about a quarter of a mile each way...) and to remember to eat enough to keep my body burning fuel efficiently and effectively.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Breakdown
There is no sense in pretendin'
Your eyes give you give away
Something inside you is feelin' like I do
We've said all there is to say
Baby, breakdown, go ahead give it to me
Breakdown, honey take me through the night
Breakdown, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
So, I made it nearly a year before having a complete and total meltdown about this whole lifestyle thing.
Last year, I shipped out chocolates and cookies to a few of my warcraft guild members (I made tons of cookies and chocolates last year, and I really like making chocolates. It's fun and sort of artsy and I feel creative and talented while I'm doing it...) and this year, talking with one of those people, he offered me a rather large sum of cash to make gift boxes for his employees. He's a lawyer and has a crapton of legal assistants and whatnot... so, despite some misgivings, I found myself dragging out the chocolate molds and the melting wafers...
I made several batches of chocolate without too much trouble. I counted 2-3 points a day for various amounts of licking my fingers and really wasn't feeling too bad about the whole thing...
And then came...
Thursday, it rained so hard that you'd have expected to see Noah somewhere out there with his cubit-stick, measuring wood... we didn't get in our long walk. Darcy was being a society-menace... actually, she's really not, but my god, the girl can drive me up the wall. I'm really not a very good mom... it doesn't take more than about 2 "Why" questions before I start
I'm trying hard to finish up these boxes to get everything shipped on Monday so I can spend KC's money with impunity and Darcy's being a serious pest. She's not happy about the fact that I won't let her eat the cookies and fudge and chocolates that I'm making, and I've had to tell her five times in the last 20 minutes that these are for someone else and she can't have any...
When it just happened.
I snapped.
Went 'round the bend.
Flipped my lid.
I gave Darcy three or four pieces of chocolate and screamed at her to GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN! And then proceeded to snarf the rest of the row myself.
I do not know how much fudge I ate.
I know I threw a few pieces down the disposal as soon as I realized what I was doing. And Darcy took a few pieces before fleeing to her bedroom.
An 8 x 11 tray makes ~100 pieces of fudge. I know I didn't eat more than one entire row. So, at the worst, at least 2 pieces, and at most, nine pieces.
But still...
I didn't decide to throw myself down the stairs, so to speak. I was good the rest of the day. I compensated. I wrote it down. I estimated on the heavy side.
And yet...
I spent most of Friday feeling like a complete Oinker. I was snippy most of the day. I worked up a good sweat when we went for our Friday walk, pumping my arms and stepping hard down on the pavement.
And then, Saturday came, and it was just... gone. I was still a little astonished by what I'd done, but my jeans still fit. I don't look any different than I did on Thursday. I didn't wait til Monday to get back on the wagon; I went back on right away. I wrote it down. I compensated.
When I show a gain this week, I think I'll be okay with that. And if I lose anyway, I'm not going to give myself the excuse that I can act like this all the time.
Surprisingly enough, I'm okay with it. I did what I did, and while I don't want to make a regular habit of it, it's not the end of the world.
I think that's a non-scale victory.
I accept what I did without beating myself up about it for too long.
Good for me.
Monday, December 8, 2008
In Which Express Earns my Repeat Business
So...
I haven't shopped seriously for clothing in the non-plus departments for... oh, about 17 years. My staple clothing stores were K-mart, Target, Lane Bryant and Torrid. With occasional forays into Fashion Bug Plus. From time to time I'd shop Catherine's, as well.
I haven't been inside a Limited since my mother dragged me along while she did shopping for her clothing, back when 10-button tees and long, frothy, faux-western style skirts were in fashion.
My husband's employer, Evil French Company, is having their annual Holiday dance on the 20th, and he always wants to go to these things. I'm never quite sure why, but he thinks it "looks good" and that he gets "face time" with people he doesn't otherwise rub elbows with while at work. Whatever. (I do remember one place I worked where if we didn't go to the company party, we were "in trouble". I went just long enough to be seen by my boss and his boss and then left. Did I mention my boss brought both his girlfriend and his wife to the company picnic?)
So, I need a dress because nothing I own really fits these days. The smallest dresses I have in the closet are 16s and 18s. I tried the 16 on, but it sagged all weird, especially around the collar. I no longer have enough shoulders to keep it from ending up drooping somewhere around my navel.
Not. Remotely. Attractive.
So, Saturday we go shopping for a dress.
It took Darcy all of about one and a half stores to get completely bored. Also, terrified. She was playing with one of the clothing racks and I moved about three feet away and she panicked. "I was looking and looking and I couldn't find you!" she wails at me. I don't know what we're going to do when she goes to school next year. So Thomas took her off to the play area and left me on my own.
I tried Kohl's first, on the advice of my step-mother, who said there were "really good" bargains there.
Maybe there were, but honestly! The store was a madhouse of disorganization, with sweaters and dresses and t-shirts and jeans all on the same rack with signs that screamed "70% off price already marked!!" If there was a dress on the rack in a color I liked, there'd be only one, and it wasn't in my size. I couldn't find any more dresses that were the same as the one I'd just seen. 70% off might be a good deal, but if I can't find anything, I'm not going to buy anything, no matter how cheap it is.
JC Penneys had a skirt that I'd seen on their website, and I managed (after about 20 minutes of looking and asking a saleslady) to find it, but it didn't look good on me. The hem came to exactly the wrong place... just below the knee. Shorter and the skirt would have been sassy, longer and it would have been elegant. Where it was and it screamed "hotel cleaning staff". Seriously.
Sears was another madhouse. Took me 30 minutes to find a single skirt that wasn't black, black, or black. And then when I did, it fit fine. And I couldn't find a single top that went with it.
I looked around Limited, but only looked. The price-tags there were frightening. I don't know about you, but the idea of spending $190 on a dress I'll wear twice just doesn't appeal to me. I wouldn't even spend that much cash on a dress when it was prom! (OK, so my wedding dress was ungodly expensive - about $1,600, but I really loved it, and a wedding is entirely different from a party!)
I beeped Thomas to say I was going to check one more store and then I would give up on a nice dress and hit Target for something "acceptable."
I walked into Express.
I fingered a couple of shirts and skirts. Size 0. Size 4. I shook my head, feeling like a stranger in a strange land. What the hell was I doing here? Surely I didn't belong in a shop where all the sales clerks looked like paper cut-outs of human beings.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" one of said clerks - if she was larger than a size 2, I'll eat my hat - came up to me, her Lee-press On Smile firmly in place.
"I'm just wondering what I'm doing here," I mutter, looking around the shop uneasily.
"How so?" Her smile dimmed a few watts.
"Well, I've lost over sixty pounds this year, and I've never shopped anywhere like this in my entire adult life. I have no idea what will look good on me, if anything..."
"Wow!" Her Lee-Press On Smile vanished, replaced with utter astonishment, then her face lit up like a Macy's Christmas display. It looked much nicer than the professional expression. "That's incredible! What size are you now, then?"
"A twelve," I said. "I don't even know if you carry size 12s. It seems in a weird grey area between fat and normal... "
"Oh, yeah, we do!" She grinned at me. "So, what do you need? Jeans? Tops? I've got a great sweater here that will just accent your figure perfectly!"
"I have a figure?" I raised an eyebrow at her. She has tiny little hips and is wearing one of those cowl-necked shirts that are used to hide the fact that she probably has breasts the size of a pull-handle on a dresser.
"Oh, my goodness, yes," she said. "Quite a nice one!"
So, Alicia introduces herself to me, and we talk about what I need; namely a party dress.
"We will find you the perfect dress! You really deserve something fantastic!" Gone is the Lee-Press On Smile and the How-can-I-help-you-ma'am attitude, and she's all about being my bff. She calls another girl over; Jamie, I think her name was, and they shoo me into a dressing room, bringing armsful of dresses and outfits over. I must have tried on about 20 different gowns, dresses, dressy-pants and sweaters, and skirt/shirt combos, coming out of the room at each for them to hum and haw over.
We looked at sparkly leggings with long sweaters, we looked at crushed velvet pants with silk tank tops and bolero jackets. I tried on countless blue dresses and red dresses and one multi-colored creation that I would have liked better without the $120 price tag. Finally, we picked a short-sleeved teal-green sheath dress with a square cut neck and sequins around the hem and collar. After that, Alicia helped me select matching accessories and tights and suggested places to look for shoes and a clutch purse.
It was somewhat embarrassing, but at the same time, really thoughful, and sweet, and I spent a good deal of that hour blinking back tears. I don't think I've ever had anyone fuss over me like that, not even when I was getting my $1,600 wedding dress, and for the commission she must have gotten on that piece of fabric, you'd think some fussing was owed to me! All this for a shared commission for a purchase that totalled less than $50, even with the matching necklace and earrings...
But you can bet your ass I'll be back.
And I'll make SURE that Alicia is there, before I make a big purchase.
After that, I beeped Thomas again and said I was headed for the shoe store. He and Darcy met me there and I fussed over shoes for a while before picking out a set of black wing-tip style heels. (Also, a pair of high-heeled boots, since the store was having a buy one, get one sale!) I haven't worn high heels in more than 8 years, and I was rather surprised at how... elegant I looked in them. Taller (no duh!). More confident. Also, my feet look tiny. Which is, in no small manner, due entirely to the fact that somewhere in this whole weight loss thing, my feet have dropped an entire two sizes.
The boots in my closet that I bought three years ago are nine and a half wides. The boots on my feet now? Seven and a half.
I have been stunned by how tiny my feet look.
Thomas, on the other hand, commented yesterday that what he was noticing more about the shoes was the way I walked.
"You have more strut in your step," he said, giving me his best bedroom eyes look. "There's a lot more... girlie in the way you walk, now. It's very sexy."
I must say, I'm looking forward to this year's party.
I haven't shopped seriously for clothing in the non-plus departments for... oh, about 17 years. My staple clothing stores were K-mart, Target, Lane Bryant and Torrid. With occasional forays into Fashion Bug Plus. From time to time I'd shop Catherine's, as well.
I haven't been inside a Limited since my mother dragged me along while she did shopping for her clothing, back when 10-button tees and long, frothy, faux-western style skirts were in fashion.
My husband's employer, Evil French Company, is having their annual Holiday dance on the 20th, and he always wants to go to these things. I'm never quite sure why, but he thinks it "looks good" and that he gets "face time" with people he doesn't otherwise rub elbows with while at work. Whatever. (I do remember one place I worked where if we didn't go to the company party, we were "in trouble". I went just long enough to be seen by my boss and his boss and then left. Did I mention my boss brought both his girlfriend and his wife to the company picnic?)
So, I need a dress because nothing I own really fits these days. The smallest dresses I have in the closet are 16s and 18s. I tried the 16 on, but it sagged all weird, especially around the collar. I no longer have enough shoulders to keep it from ending up drooping somewhere around my navel.
Not. Remotely. Attractive.
So, Saturday we go shopping for a dress.
It took Darcy all of about one and a half stores to get completely bored. Also, terrified. She was playing with one of the clothing racks and I moved about three feet away and she panicked. "I was looking and looking and I couldn't find you!" she wails at me. I don't know what we're going to do when she goes to school next year. So Thomas took her off to the play area and left me on my own.
I tried Kohl's first, on the advice of my step-mother, who said there were "really good" bargains there.
Maybe there were, but honestly! The store was a madhouse of disorganization, with sweaters and dresses and t-shirts and jeans all on the same rack with signs that screamed "70% off price already marked!!" If there was a dress on the rack in a color I liked, there'd be only one, and it wasn't in my size. I couldn't find any more dresses that were the same as the one I'd just seen. 70% off might be a good deal, but if I can't find anything, I'm not going to buy anything, no matter how cheap it is.
JC Penneys had a skirt that I'd seen on their website, and I managed (after about 20 minutes of looking and asking a saleslady) to find it, but it didn't look good on me. The hem came to exactly the wrong place... just below the knee. Shorter and the skirt would have been sassy, longer and it would have been elegant. Where it was and it screamed "hotel cleaning staff". Seriously.
Sears was another madhouse. Took me 30 minutes to find a single skirt that wasn't black, black, or black. And then when I did, it fit fine. And I couldn't find a single top that went with it.
I looked around Limited, but only looked. The price-tags there were frightening. I don't know about you, but the idea of spending $190 on a dress I'll wear twice just doesn't appeal to me. I wouldn't even spend that much cash on a dress when it was prom! (OK, so my wedding dress was ungodly expensive - about $1,600, but I really loved it, and a wedding is entirely different from a party!)
I beeped Thomas to say I was going to check one more store and then I would give up on a nice dress and hit Target for something "acceptable."
I walked into Express.
I fingered a couple of shirts and skirts. Size 0. Size 4. I shook my head, feeling like a stranger in a strange land. What the hell was I doing here? Surely I didn't belong in a shop where all the sales clerks looked like paper cut-outs of human beings.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" one of said clerks - if she was larger than a size 2, I'll eat my hat - came up to me, her Lee-press On Smile firmly in place.
"I'm just wondering what I'm doing here," I mutter, looking around the shop uneasily.
"How so?" Her smile dimmed a few watts.
"Well, I've lost over sixty pounds this year, and I've never shopped anywhere like this in my entire adult life. I have no idea what will look good on me, if anything..."
"Wow!" Her Lee-Press On Smile vanished, replaced with utter astonishment, then her face lit up like a Macy's Christmas display. It looked much nicer than the professional expression. "That's incredible! What size are you now, then?"
"A twelve," I said. "I don't even know if you carry size 12s. It seems in a weird grey area between fat and normal... "
"Oh, yeah, we do!" She grinned at me. "So, what do you need? Jeans? Tops? I've got a great sweater here that will just accent your figure perfectly!"
"I have a figure?" I raised an eyebrow at her. She has tiny little hips and is wearing one of those cowl-necked shirts that are used to hide the fact that she probably has breasts the size of a pull-handle on a dresser.
"Oh, my goodness, yes," she said. "Quite a nice one!"
So, Alicia introduces herself to me, and we talk about what I need; namely a party dress.
"We will find you the perfect dress! You really deserve something fantastic!" Gone is the Lee-Press On Smile and the How-can-I-help-you-ma'am attitude, and she's all about being my bff. She calls another girl over; Jamie, I think her name was, and they shoo me into a dressing room, bringing armsful of dresses and outfits over. I must have tried on about 20 different gowns, dresses, dressy-pants and sweaters, and skirt/shirt combos, coming out of the room at each for them to hum and haw over.
We looked at sparkly leggings with long sweaters, we looked at crushed velvet pants with silk tank tops and bolero jackets. I tried on countless blue dresses and red dresses and one multi-colored creation that I would have liked better without the $120 price tag. Finally, we picked a short-sleeved teal-green sheath dress with a square cut neck and sequins around the hem and collar. After that, Alicia helped me select matching accessories and tights and suggested places to look for shoes and a clutch purse.
It was somewhat embarrassing, but at the same time, really thoughful, and sweet, and I spent a good deal of that hour blinking back tears. I don't think I've ever had anyone fuss over me like that, not even when I was getting my $1,600 wedding dress, and for the commission she must have gotten on that piece of fabric, you'd think some fussing was owed to me! All this for a shared commission for a purchase that totalled less than $50, even with the matching necklace and earrings...
But you can bet your ass I'll be back.
And I'll make SURE that Alicia is there, before I make a big purchase.
After that, I beeped Thomas again and said I was headed for the shoe store. He and Darcy met me there and I fussed over shoes for a while before picking out a set of black wing-tip style heels. (Also, a pair of high-heeled boots, since the store was having a buy one, get one sale!) I haven't worn high heels in more than 8 years, and I was rather surprised at how... elegant I looked in them. Taller (no duh!). More confident. Also, my feet look tiny. Which is, in no small manner, due entirely to the fact that somewhere in this whole weight loss thing, my feet have dropped an entire two sizes.
The boots in my closet that I bought three years ago are nine and a half wides. The boots on my feet now? Seven and a half.
I have been stunned by how tiny my feet look.
Thomas, on the other hand, commented yesterday that what he was noticing more about the shoes was the way I walked.
"You have more strut in your step," he said, giving me his best bedroom eyes look. "There's a lot more... girlie in the way you walk, now. It's very sexy."
I must say, I'm looking forward to this year's party.
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Ideal
Wow. What more needs to be said?
(Well, no, because you know me and I can never seem to sum up in one sentence what will take me three or four paragraphs to pontificate upon...)
Ok. So, dinner was great. I had DARK turkey, gravy, two helpings of stuffing, my overly-sugared sweet potato casserole, green beans, broccoli with cheese, and one dinner roll. (I would have had two, except Thomas snitched the last one that I'd been eyeballing for the last four minutes and took it just the second before I was ready to ask for it...) I also had a piece of apple pie with ice cream for dessert.
I felt adequately full, happy and content.
And then the next day, I went to the movies with my best friend. And while I did stick to the "guiltless" selection on the menu, it was still stuffed into a pita-bread and came with chips. Baked chips, but still chips and I still ate them.
On the other hand, we did walk.... ish 17-18 miles this week... and I did my cardio dvd once.
And... I lost .6 pounds this week.
So, I feel good about myself.
Amazing, that.
(Well, no, because you know me and I can never seem to sum up in one sentence what will take me three or four paragraphs to pontificate upon...)
Ok. So, dinner was great. I had DARK turkey, gravy, two helpings of stuffing, my overly-sugared sweet potato casserole, green beans, broccoli with cheese, and one dinner roll. (I would have had two, except Thomas snitched the last one that I'd been eyeballing for the last four minutes and took it just the second before I was ready to ask for it...) I also had a piece of apple pie with ice cream for dessert.
I felt adequately full, happy and content.
And then the next day, I went to the movies with my best friend. And while I did stick to the "guiltless" selection on the menu, it was still stuffed into a pita-bread and came with chips. Baked chips, but still chips and I still ate them.
On the other hand, we did walk.... ish 17-18 miles this week... and I did my cardio dvd once.
And... I lost .6 pounds this week.
So, I feel good about myself.
Amazing, that.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Differences between Thankful and Grateful
It's been a sort of running joke with me and my mom for years that while I am often grateful, I am seldom thankful.
The difference, of course, is that being grateful means feeling it, and being thankful means talking about it.
My natural tendency is tobitch complain. You might have noticed.
A lot of times, at the various relations and friends with whom I share a table on this upcoming holiday, want me (well, everyone) to talk about the things they are thankful for. For some reason, this always makes me feel just a little artificial... kinda like Valentines day. We shouldn't need a day set aside for romance and another one set aside for being grateful. We should be those things every single day.
Unfortunately, we're not.
I'm just as guilty of it as everyone else. I do take things for granted and I do not always appreciate the people in my life.
One thing, however, I've noticed about this whole lifestyle change, is that I've become a little more self-aware. My list of things I'm grateful for this year is pretty long... in fact, it may well be longer than the list of things I'm still feelingbitchy decidedly ungrateful for.
I am thankful for my husband, Thomas. His support, both mentally and financially. He is always there for me. And even when we argue, I still can't imagine being with anyone else.
I am grateful for my daughter, who is relatively well-behaved, intelligent, inquisitive, and has a fondness (at the moment) for things I can understand, like dragons, zombies, and computer games. I am thankful that she is out of diapers and has been for quite a while. I am thankful that she sometimes picks up her own toys, that she can brush her teeth without help, and that she no longer screams every time I wash her hair. I am glad that she's a great kid, especially as it's quite definite now that she's going to be the only kid I ever have. I am grateful that I'm mostly able to greet that news with a calm heart.
I am thankful that my mother has survived a year post-cancer without any recurrence. I am glad she has a steady job with health insurance and that she's not making poor health decisions any longer because she lacks the funding to make the right decisions. (She still makes some wrong decisions because she is thoroughly capable of being the Queen of Egypt... but that's another story...) I am grateful that I beat her this year in asking for the Cranberry Velvet recipe. (Yet another long story, and this is the first time I've won that particular little family game in years...)
I am still grateful for the existence of both of my step-parents. Rosie - my step-mom, and Charles, my step-dad, have done a lot to make both of my parents happy, which is more than they ever were together.
I am grateful for my real-life friends; many of whom are more like family than my own ever has been. Carol. Chris. Leigh. Jeanne. Despite what must be a herculean effort on their parts from time to time, they still like me, and are often there when I need an ear, or just some company... I couldn't get on without a single one of them, and I dearly hope they know that.
I am thankful for my new friends; who in a short period of time, have become quite dear to me. Leslie. Darcy. (Yes, that does get confusing!) Beth. I am glad that they have welcomed me into their lives, and have been fun to hang out with, especially after so long of my being alone down here in Chesapeake.
I am grateful to my Weight Watcher's groups, both online and real life, who have been supportive and encouraging. Who have offered great tips and advice, and who have provided the laughter and levity that's so desperately needed during this transition of my life between unhealthy and healthy.
Let me not forget my online friends... Dietbook. Scale Junkie. Felicia. Thinking Thin, Too. MizFit. Roni. Chris. Hanlie. KK. Kiki. Crabby McSlacker and Merry Sunshine. There are dozens more like them... women and men who have freely offered their advice, insight, and humor. That have shared their journey with the world. There's not a person on my blog-roll that I don't consider a friend, even if they don't always have any idea who I am.
And my other online friends; the Warcraft group... Hitt, Yok, Thorn, Sassie, DomMANG!, Froot, Breeze, Evan, Ariss, Theo and Ravin, Cygna and Don, Kat and Kata, Ooooooook, Cookie, PlumSauce, Pariah, Flux, Ferret, Sara, Thea (Aka, the PVP goddess!), Grey... and all the rest of the 5th crew, No Help at All, and those people in Strike that I don't want to strangle...
I'm grateful for my health. That I don't have to take asthma medication any longer. That my dental work is two weeks away from being finally, finally over! That I can walk further, faster. That I can run up and down stairs. That I'm not generally in constant pain (this last week, and the next 2 upcoming being exceptions because I'm in the last stages of a root canal, and it's just been lovely...).
I'm surprised, but grateful, that my blog will be one year old tomorrow. If you'd asked me last year, I wouldn't have expected to be doing this well, for this long.
I'm thankful for the 61.2 pounds I've lost... I'm thankful to be in size 12 jeans and medium shirts.
I'm thankful for all of you, still reading this, and hopefully not rolling your eyes too much. Don't worry, I don't get this maudlin very often.
The difference, of course, is that being grateful means feeling it, and being thankful means talking about it.
My natural tendency is to
A lot of times, at the various relations and friends with whom I share a table on this upcoming holiday, want me (well, everyone) to talk about the things they are thankful for. For some reason, this always makes me feel just a little artificial... kinda like Valentines day. We shouldn't need a day set aside for romance and another one set aside for being grateful. We should be those things every single day.
Unfortunately, we're not.
I'm just as guilty of it as everyone else. I do take things for granted and I do not always appreciate the people in my life.
One thing, however, I've noticed about this whole lifestyle change, is that I've become a little more self-aware. My list of things I'm grateful for this year is pretty long... in fact, it may well be longer than the list of things I'm still feeling
I am thankful for my husband, Thomas. His support, both mentally and financially. He is always there for me. And even when we argue, I still can't imagine being with anyone else.
I am grateful for my daughter, who is relatively well-behaved, intelligent, inquisitive, and has a fondness (at the moment) for things I can understand, like dragons, zombies, and computer games. I am thankful that she is out of diapers and has been for quite a while. I am thankful that she sometimes picks up her own toys, that she can brush her teeth without help, and that she no longer screams every time I wash her hair. I am glad that she's a great kid, especially as it's quite definite now that she's going to be the only kid I ever have. I am grateful that I'm mostly able to greet that news with a calm heart.
I am thankful that my mother has survived a year post-cancer without any recurrence. I am glad she has a steady job with health insurance and that she's not making poor health decisions any longer because she lacks the funding to make the right decisions. (She still makes some wrong decisions because she is thoroughly capable of being the Queen of Egypt... but that's another story...) I am grateful that I beat her this year in asking for the Cranberry Velvet recipe. (Yet another long story, and this is the first time I've won that particular little family game in years...)
I am still grateful for the existence of both of my step-parents. Rosie - my step-mom, and Charles, my step-dad, have done a lot to make both of my parents happy, which is more than they ever were together.
I am grateful for my real-life friends; many of whom are more like family than my own ever has been. Carol. Chris. Leigh. Jeanne. Despite what must be a herculean effort on their parts from time to time, they still like me, and are often there when I need an ear, or just some company... I couldn't get on without a single one of them, and I dearly hope they know that.
I am thankful for my new friends; who in a short period of time, have become quite dear to me. Leslie. Darcy. (Yes, that does get confusing!) Beth. I am glad that they have welcomed me into their lives, and have been fun to hang out with, especially after so long of my being alone down here in Chesapeake.
I am grateful to my Weight Watcher's groups, both online and real life, who have been supportive and encouraging. Who have offered great tips and advice, and who have provided the laughter and levity that's so desperately needed during this transition of my life between unhealthy and healthy.
Let me not forget my online friends... Dietbook. Scale Junkie. Felicia. Thinking Thin, Too. MizFit. Roni. Chris. Hanlie. KK. Kiki. Crabby McSlacker and Merry Sunshine. There are dozens more like them... women and men who have freely offered their advice, insight, and humor. That have shared their journey with the world. There's not a person on my blog-roll that I don't consider a friend, even if they don't always have any idea who I am.
And my other online friends; the Warcraft group... Hitt, Yok, Thorn, Sassie, DomMANG!, Froot, Breeze, Evan, Ariss, Theo and Ravin, Cygna and Don, Kat and Kata, Ooooooook, Cookie, PlumSauce, Pariah, Flux, Ferret, Sara, Thea (Aka, the PVP goddess!), Grey... and all the rest of the 5th crew, No Help at All, and those people in Strike that I don't want to strangle...
I'm grateful for my health. That I don't have to take asthma medication any longer. That my dental work is two weeks away from being finally, finally over! That I can walk further, faster. That I can run up and down stairs. That I'm not generally in constant pain (this last week, and the next 2 upcoming being exceptions because I'm in the last stages of a root canal, and it's just been lovely...).
I'm surprised, but grateful, that my blog will be one year old tomorrow. If you'd asked me last year, I wouldn't have expected to be doing this well, for this long.
I'm thankful for the 61.2 pounds I've lost... I'm thankful to be in size 12 jeans and medium shirts.
I'm thankful for all of you, still reading this, and hopefully not rolling your eyes too much. Don't worry, I don't get this maudlin very often.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Nine and a Half Weeks
(Well, more like Seven weeks, but hey, making obscure, old movie references is kinda fun...)
Anyway, it's been seven weeks since the last time I hit a 5-pound star. I hit 55 pounds lost on October 6th, and then pretty much bounced around between 54 and 58 for weeks.
I've been trying to be patient and determined and not frustrated and if you've been paying attention, you know I have not been doing very well at those things... you also can probably guess how much of the impatience and stressed and frustrated that you haven't seen. I had three weeks in those seven where I gained, or maintained. Quite frustrating, really. It's by far the longest stretch of time I've had between 5 pound markers...
But we have increased our walking in the last two weeks, and I think that's made some difference. Also, I've been a lot more careful to journal what I'm eating (Or I would have been, if my computer hadn't taken a sudden nose-dive last week and caused Thomas to spend at least 48 hours during his week-long vacation trying to keep it running. Obviously, it is running, but it's not at all... well, you'd have to see it to believe it... the thing is on the floor, open, because the replacement power supply - scrounged from another system - doesn't fit inside the case. It's given to shorting out randomly, and my graphics settings are turned to the bare minimum, somewhere between Big and "Do you want your mom in Georgia to be able to read this without putting on her glasses?") I've lost almost 4 pounds in the last two weeks, which is pretty good for me. These days, I've been lucky to lose more than a pound at a clip...
Anyway, since I haven't been around for much this week; between my computer not working, and when it was working, I've fallen face-first into the new Warcraft expansion... here are some scenes from my life in the last week that I thought I'd share with you.
[As a note, dinner was perfectly fine. The toaster acted exactly as I had thought it would, and will probably become my preferred way to cook dinner on Thursdays and Fridays, since we take our 3.4 mile walk on those days, which takes us about an hour, and leaving the house at 5:45 after Thomas gets home from work puts us at having dinner at a reasonable hour... Further note, having talked about Chinese food in detail, we decided to do Chinese as our splurge this week, and had it for dinner on Saturday instead.... I ate 5 mu shu pork rolls and one chicken teriyaki apetizer. Yes, with WHITE RICE too.]
[Guess I've been talking about my eating plan a little much recently....]
And my last interesting piece of news... Thomas is now at goal! technically, a bit below goal. Two weeks back, he got to .6 pounds away from goal... then last week, he gained a pound... and then this week, he lost like 4.4 pounds... (god, that makes me so furious sometimes. I know he doesn't do it just to piss me off, but really... just once! I'd like to have a good loss and not immediately be upstaged by a factor of 2!) so now he's a bit under goal and weighing in at 172 pounds. (He's 6 feet tall and was aiming for a goal weight of 175...) So... now we're entering a new stage of our life...
Maintenance.
He gets now, on Core... 63 extra flex points per week to play with.
While I have another 32 pounds to lose before I'm at goal weight.
Yeah. This might be tricky.
Anyway, it's been seven weeks since the last time I hit a 5-pound star. I hit 55 pounds lost on October 6th, and then pretty much bounced around between 54 and 58 for weeks.
I've been trying to be patient and determined and not frustrated and if you've been paying attention, you know I have not been doing very well at those things... you also can probably guess how much of the impatience and stressed and frustrated that you haven't seen. I had three weeks in those seven where I gained, or maintained. Quite frustrating, really. It's by far the longest stretch of time I've had between 5 pound markers...
But we have increased our walking in the last two weeks, and I think that's made some difference. Also, I've been a lot more careful to journal what I'm eating (Or I would have been, if my computer hadn't taken a sudden nose-dive last week and caused Thomas to spend at least 48 hours during his week-long vacation trying to keep it running. Obviously, it is running, but it's not at all... well, you'd have to see it to believe it... the thing is on the floor, open, because the replacement power supply - scrounged from another system - doesn't fit inside the case. It's given to shorting out randomly, and my graphics settings are turned to the bare minimum, somewhere between Big and "Do you want your mom in Georgia to be able to read this without putting on her glasses?") I've lost almost 4 pounds in the last two weeks, which is pretty good for me. These days, I've been lucky to lose more than a pound at a clip...
Anyway, since I haven't been around for much this week; between my computer not working, and when it was working, I've fallen face-first into the new Warcraft expansion... here are some scenes from my life in the last week that I thought I'd share with you.
Scene: 6:30pm, Thursday night.
Lynn: Oh, hell.
Thomas: What?
Lynn: We need to walk tonight. And it's the long walk. And I haven't started dinner. So by the time we get home from the walk, at 7:30, it'll be past 8 before dinner's ready... maybe... Ah! yes. I can cook dinner in the toaster oven. When it reaches the end of its timer, the toaster will turn off.
Thomas: Are you sure?
Lynn: Sure...
(somewhat later, about 1/4 mile away from the house, on the way back.)
Lynn: I think so, at least. That the toaster will turn itself off. I've never actually tested that theory.
Thomas: Are you burning the house down?
Lynn: Nah. Worst that'll happen is dinner will be completely inedible and we'll have to order out Chinese. And not like my diet-friendly Chinese stir fry, but you know, deep fried egg rolls and teriyaki steak and...
Thomas: ... 12 points a cup General Tso's chicken?
Lynn: Exactly.
Thomas: Never thought I'd be hoping for a burned dinner before....
[As a note, dinner was perfectly fine. The toaster acted exactly as I had thought it would, and will probably become my preferred way to cook dinner on Thursdays and Fridays, since we take our 3.4 mile walk on those days, which takes us about an hour, and leaving the house at 5:45 after Thomas gets home from work puts us at having dinner at a reasonable hour... Further note, having talked about Chinese food in detail, we decided to do Chinese as our splurge this week, and had it for dinner on Saturday instead.... I ate 5 mu shu pork rolls and one chicken teriyaki apetizer. Yes, with WHITE RICE too.]
Scene: Saturday, 10am
Darcy, playing with doll: My name is Darcy Angelia Carpenter.
Doll: And my name is Beth Carol Dollie!
Darcy: And this is my Mommy. Mommy Carpenter. And she needs to lose 30 pounds!
[Guess I've been talking about my eating plan a little much recently....]
And my last interesting piece of news... Thomas is now at goal! technically, a bit below goal. Two weeks back, he got to .6 pounds away from goal... then last week, he gained a pound... and then this week, he lost like 4.4 pounds... (god, that makes me so furious sometimes. I know he doesn't do it just to piss me off, but really... just once! I'd like to have a good loss and not immediately be upstaged by a factor of 2!) so now he's a bit under goal and weighing in at 172 pounds. (He's 6 feet tall and was aiming for a goal weight of 175...) So... now we're entering a new stage of our life...
Maintenance.
He gets now, on Core... 63 extra flex points per week to play with.
While I have another 32 pounds to lose before I'm at goal weight.
Yeah. This might be tricky.
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