Further Adventures in Sweat

Remember items 2 & 3?

I weighed myself this morning, eight days after I weighed in at 263, and found that I'm down three more pounds to 260.

That's including Christmas noshing times two, an office potluck of snackery and the craziness and laziness of a week off of work.

I have to admit: I'm kind of stunned.

I couldn't stop grinning.

Ok, so Group Strength Training (GST) kind of kicked my ass & I didn't grin so much. And now my core is trashed and my legs are kind of trashed and my shoulders are... Well, you get the picture.

Whatever!

I took my very first Pilates class last week while I was on vacation. Taking it after taking a GST & a yoga class on the same day was probably not the brightest idea I've ever had, but what are ya gonna do? Pilates is a special kind of hell. I think I like it! I took my second class on Monday and it was easier than the first time, but certainly not easy. I'm back at work now, so it'll be harder to get Pilates in. Most of the classes seem to be during working hours, which is kind of frustrating.

Hi! I'm rambling!

In other news, I got a *free* marathon training plan from the active.com facebook account. It's pretty cool, and looks similar to the other plans I was looking at. It appears to be mostly running for time, which kind of scares me, because I'm not that fast. But I figure that I've got plenty of time, and, if I find this doesn't work for me, I can always change. In the meantime, they've got kind of a neat little set up, which will be fun to use. But it also means I will be tracking workouts on three different websites. Which is kind of, I don't know, overkill?

Related: I am perplexed. I've read on a couple of sources about needing to replenish protein after a hard workout, including strength training and running. But I believe I've also read that, as long as you're getting enough protein in your regular diet, you don't need to supplement that within a certain period of time after a workout. I don't know if I should be making a point to eat some protein directly after a workout or if it's no big deal as long as I get the protein.

I'm done rambling, so have some pictures:


The Monkeys on Christmas


Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady (not me)!


Quite possibly one of my favorite photos ever: Me & Pop

On Addictions, Breakfasts and Breakdowns

If you've been around The Verbosery long enough, you might have picked up that I maybe kind of have a problem with food.

Not too long ago, I ran across this article in the Washington Post about David Kessler and his research into and findings about the chemical changes in the brain that are triggered by certain foods which can lead to food addiction.

And if you read that article, it gives you a very clear peek into not only my brain, but I'm sure the brains of countless other people out there.

When I read the article, I came close to tears because there, in print, in words from someone smarter than I, who had done research, was something I had suspected all along:

I have an addiction and my brain works against me.

If you've been around long enough, you know that I quit smoking (again) just over a year ago.

As hard as it is, kicking that addiction is much easier. It's easy to stop going to the stores where I purchased my cloves. It's easy to move away from the situations where I typically smoked. It's easy to change your habits so that not smoking becomes as normal as smoking was.

Eating, though, is a whole different ball game.

I mean.

A girl's gotta eat.

Eating is just not something one kicks cold turkey.

Yes, I can move towards better habits, I can cook for myself starting with whole foods, I can read label and be careful. I can do really well 75% or 90% of the time.

But sometimes you have to be out all day.

Or in the evening.

Or it's Thanksgiving.

Or you workout and then hit the commute and then don't get a chance for a real breakfast until you get to work, which, thankfully, has a toaster and a refrigerator and a microwave.

Sometimes little things that don't affect most people pile up and before you can get a handle on it, your squirrel brain has gotten hold of a craving and won't let go. Rationally, you know it's bullshit and you need to walk away, but there's that part of your brain that is just screaming and won't let it go.

I've tried so hard to stay away from things that I know will trigger the angry squirrel part of my brain.

I don't keep regular bread in the house. Or tortillas. Or chips, popcorn, treats, cereal I like.

There's almost always a constant, low grade *hum* of craving in my brain and most of the time, I don't even know what the hell it is that I'm craving. Because it's not any thing.

I crave processed, refined, fattened, sugared crap.

My latest thing is sushi. If you live near Raley's, you might know that some of their stores have sushi that's made in-house. It's really good. I could eat that every day for quite a few days before I got sick of it. In fact, there have been some days when I did have it in a row.

I also crave Panda Express.

Last night I finally realized what I think I've been trying to deny. I think the reason I've been craving sushi & Panda Express is because I'm craving white rice.

Seriously.

White rice?

Who the fuck craves white rice?

But white rice is probably the most "simple" grain I eat any more. So if you're a food addicted brain who knows it's not getting any zingers, where do you turn? White rice?

Mostly I've had this under control. Mostly. I understand the problem. I've started tracking calories. I realized how hard I bust my ass at the gym and I've started to get a grip on how I spend my calories.

But I still have a food addicted brain.

And I can totally get everything as under control as I can get it, and then things happen that I choose to relinquish control over.

Because normal people can eat things like stuffing and dinner rolls and mashed potatoes and pie at Thanksgiving dinner and it's ok.

Normal people understand how portion control works and calories and either mind them or don't, but then they walk away from the dinner table, clear out the leftovers and go about their lives.

Me?

I understand about portion control and calories, but my brain gets ahold of those chemicals and it's all over.

It's not just walking away from the table.

It's not just making the conscious decision to get my eating back under control.

It's having to wrestle my angry squirrel brain off the addiction hamster wheel so I can start thinking about something other than "how can I get something made with flour?"

And the only way you can really do that is to get your eating back under control and then ride it out until your brain settles back down and all you've got left is that hum.

But that can take awhile. It takes constant vigilance. Any slip and you start over. Meanwhile, you're walking a tightrope, trying to juggle what you should be eating and what you might want to eat.

Which is how you end up standing in the aisle of a grocery store doing everything in your power to not break down in tears because you can't figure out what the fuck to get to have for breakfast when you've exhausted all the "normal" possibilities and you know damn well that, if you don't have a plan, you'll be in a drive through and starting all over again.

Fortunately I had the sense to walk away and go on with the rest of my shopping before following a bread crumb trail to this idea:


220 Calorie Breakfast Sandwich
One meal at a time, I build back towards rational. The eating part, I can handle. Mostly. I know how to make the right choices. But my brain works so hard against me. It's not about will power. It's not even about planning. It's a constant vigilance in a war against myself.

And it sucks. And I'm tired. And all I can do is just keep moving.

Fat Girl in Motion

Saturday morning I got up bright and early and totally prepared to do the "First Day to 5K" podcast workout for the very first time.

Considering that Friday was the first time I'd even walked in a week and, further, that it kicked my ass, I probably should have known this was going to be a bad idea.

And, holy cow, was it ever a bad idea.

Basically, the First Day to 5K podcast operates on the same principal as Couch to 5K, only the podcast is set to music that alternates the beats per minute (BPM) according to whether you should be walking or running and chimes to direct you when to run and when to walk. There's no watch checking, just play and go. Which is, of course, brilliant for people like me who have a hard time just keeping track of how many reps she's done.

When that first chime went off and I started running, I have to say that I have never in my life felt more like a fat girl exercising.

Which, you know. Clearly I am a fat girl exercising.

But I have never felt so stereotypically Fat Girl.

It was very disconcerting and almost immediately discouraging. I felt awful and ungraceful and like I belonged in some horrid youtube video.

And then there was the hurting. My shins were tight & on fire in short order and then there was the lung congestion and the wheezing.

In short, I felt a lot like a fat, pathetic dumbass and only made it through half of the "running" sections of the podcast. And I'd have just flat out given up and not gone any further except that, you know, I had to get back home.

So now I'm in this place where I feel like I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing or what I should be doing or what I need to be doing. I'm backing up and reassessing again.

But not just in relation to this running thing. I'm also in a quandary over the Get Your Body Back weight routine that I've been doing. I'm finding it boring and easy and confusing and difficult. I think mainly I just feel bored and like the hard stuff is on the wrong side of "too hard" and the rest of it is too easy. Except for the counting part. Because, apparently, I can't count for shit, especially if it's left/right.

I have a hard time keeping my brain focused on what's going on, and when it drifts off I lose track of things like what that last number was and which side did I start with and did I skip to the next number before doing the other side?

It kind of makes me feel dumb, but keeping my brain where it's supposed to be has always been a problem for me, in a variety of settings, so it's not like this is new or unexpected.

My plan is to spend some time with the Big Book and maybe craft a workout that I like. Or, hell, maybe a couple of them so I can do something every day.

And I want to try out the book's Spartacus Workout. Just to see if I can do it.

I also need to work on a stretching routine for when I walk/run, and specific exercises to help with the issues I have.

I have to remember to keep moving forward so the inertia is going in the right direction. Because it would really like a nap.

If Wishes Were Carts

I got my bag (mostly) packed last night. Everything was (mostly) ready to go for the morning.

My alarms went off and I was actually conscious when I turned them off.

And then lay in bed debating my fate.

Eventually deciding screw the gym, I'd just stay home.

Again.

I snuggled back down in bed and proceeded to explore the internets on my cell phone until my "Pack up!" alarm went off.

And then I had a short but animated argument with myself, heaved a big sigh, and dragged myself off to the gym.

What was the winning argument?

I didn't want to shower at home again.

Why?

Well, you see, when I shower at home, I take really super hot, scalding showers. Because I can. And it feels so nice. In fact, it feels so nice that I tend to get sidetracked mid-wash by the gloriousness of just standing there in the super hot water.

This is all well and good and, when I'm home, timing isn't usually an issue, so it doesn't matter that it takes me a little bit longer than it should to get back out again.

The problem, however, is all that super hot, scalding water, sucks the moisture out of my skin and leaves me feeling positively parched. And no amount of oils or lotions has managed to stem that parched feeling.

I just couldn't take the thought of another parching shower.

So I dragged my ass out of bed, grabbed my stuff, and went to the gym.

Quite possibly the strangest reason, ever, for going, but it got me there, so I guess that's a "win". Right?

See? Proof!

In related news, I think I need a detox program for food. Not like one of those Master Cleanser type things, but where I could actually go somewhere and have no choice but eating the right things for a couple of months until I don't crave crap anymore.

Seriously, we can cut people open at will, but we can't make healthy living programs more common and more serious?

Don't we just have the cart before the horse?

Speaking of which, I read an article this morning that talked about how childbirth related deaths in California are up for this most recent decade. They're blaming unnecessary inductions and Cesarean sections. Imagine that. Interfering with Ma Nature actually has consequences? No way!

The last thing I have to share today is that I'm going to yoga tonight after two weeks off. I'm very excited about going, but not quite so excited about all the driving it's going to take to get me there. I'm even debating taking "jammies" and having a shower & change before I leave, so I can crawl my stretchy, zen ass into bed once I finally do get home.

Ooh, hey. I'm excited already.

Journals, Grimoires & Gyms

I still haven't been to the gym.

I know, right?

I mean, I've got all these great intentions and everything, but then I just can't get my ass out of bed in the morning*. This morning I didn't even wake up until my "Pack up!" alarm went off. Yes, that's actually what the alarm is named and what it's for. It's my "thirty minute warning" in the morning and is the fourth time an alarm goes off. Yup. I totally slept through three alarms.

Now. I didn't sleep through them, I'm sure, but I turned them off and went directly back to sleep without even registering that they went off.

So instead of going to the gym this morning I reset the songs that play when my alarms go off and determined that I was going to make sure everything was packed and ready to go tonight, instead of leaving it to the morning. That way, should the absolute worst happen (I oversleep)(again), I'm still ready to roll.

As long as I'm awake by 4:30am.

In other news, I actually busted out one of my fancy new notebooks and started writing in it every night. You can actually see the journal and the fancypants pens I use in the Imbolc Cuddles picture.

I can't say there's been any stunning revelations, but it's nice to take a few minutes at the end of the day to reflect on the day and what happened. It's nice to not have to worry about self-censorship (as I do here). I can put whatever I want in there, and I do, and it's nice to have that freedom. Last night I put my goal for the Imbolc season in there, and I'm hoping that I can use it for some degree of accountability. Maybe this will help me to keep focused and on task for goals.

And then on the drive this morning, the radio show was talking about keeping journals, and spouses reading journals, and the stuff they read in their spouse's journal. In particular they were talking about a person who wrote all the negative things about his wife, how much he hated her, thought she was lazy and on and on. Then he had an affair with an old girlfriend and had written about their affair, and how he felt about her and their love and blah blah blah. Anyway, his wife found his journal and read it and, of course, all hell broke loose.

They were talking about how his poor wife had to read "all of that" about how he felt about her, how he felt about the woman he cheated with, all the dirty details and emotions and how awful it must have been for his wife to "have to" read all of that.

Oh well now.

She did not have to read all of it. She didn't have to read any of it at all, and a solid case could be made that her husband wrote it all with an anticipation of privacy. Certainly, once she'd established that he had cheated, she didn't need to read further than that.

She chose to read the whole thing and all the gory details and, well, she certainly found out, didn't she?

The whole discussion got me all riled up, I guess!

In still other other news, I'm going to an herb class Thursday evening. One of the pieces of the labyrinth I've been trying to figure out involves studying herbs and their uses, as well as how to grow, cultivate, harvest and store them. I'm sure there's a proper term for this, but I keep calling it "herbology" because I really don't know what else to call it. I figure that's just about good enough for right now. I've also been collecting various books with information on the subject, and I did a bit of research about places where I can actually study this. Like on purpose and stuff.

Of course the school that seemed most interesting to me was also a fair bit of a drive away (around 90 minutes each way). They do offer weekend courses and shorter workshops, but what I'm really interested in involves actually settling in and learning for a period of time. They offer this, too, but there are so many other obstacles to making that work. I know that's something I need to figure out and potentially it just involves taking the time to do more research to find out what else I can do and how.

For right now what this means is taking local classes that I can find and working towards collecting information and, eventually, putting it all together in a way that's useful and helpful to me.

My initial thought was to create an herbal grimoire. To take an herb, say lavender, and create a section for it that includes everything one would ever need to know about lavender. And to research this information for each herb and put them all together in this format in the end. I think that will be the final culmination of my goal, but it's something that will take some time and work to get to.

Which is probably a pretty tall order for a woman who can't even get out of bed in the morning!

*I've been so tired because I've been going to bed a little too late and then I've been having trouble staying good & asleep the whole night. The really sad part is that I'd bet dollars to donuts that getting my ass to the gym would go a long way toward rectifying my sleeping issues. If only I could wake the fuck up in the mornings!

An Open Letter to Cacique

Dear Cacique,

I never thought I'd say this, but I am in love.

I used to wear your bras a couple of years back, but they were not without their problems (including the price!).

Recently, Lane Bryant was having a killer bra sale and, not one to pass up a good deal and having recently heard rave reviews about them, I went in to try some on.

I grabbed a couple of these and made for a dressing room.

The first thing I found out was that there was no way it was going to work if I used my normal cup size - so I went up a cup and tried again. The fit was great and they looked awesome, so I took four home with me.

I didn't, however, really have any idea about how awesome they were until I wore one "for reals" the next day.

All I can say is: OMG.

I have literally never worn a more comfortable bra.

Ever.

Which is saying a lot for a bra that's filled with padding, underwires, and definitely does not sport full coverage.

I did not find myself sagging out under the underwire. There was no binding, pinching, inappropriate underwire poking or "quad boobs"*. I did not feel like I was wearing a modified bodice or device of torture. The straps didn't dig into my shoulders or sag off of them.

Other than what it was doing for my cleavage, I felt, quite literally, like I wasn't even wearing a bra.

Cacique, if you had any idea of the bra issues I have had, and the ways in which I have cursed and given up on the bra industry in the past, you may understand how miraculous it feels to find a bra that is as awesome as this plunge thing of yours.

I am so glad I decided to throw caution and prior experience to the wind and try on a bra style that has never worked for me in the past.

I am so glad that you are taking support garments for fat women so seriously that you have created a bra as fabulous as this.

I am even willing to pay full price for a bra this awesome (not that I did, but that's maybe a story for another time). And, Cacique, that is saying something.

Much Love,
Astonishingly Perky in Northern California

*When your tits "bubble" out of the top of a bra as a noticeably divided section - making it look like you have four boobs. And, no, Urban Dictionary, it is not a good look.


Four bras for $54, after tax? That's less than I was paying for Playtex Wirefree bras! I saved $103 - now that's some awesome shopping!

An Open Letter to Oprah Winfrey

Dear Oprah,

You should be ashamed of yourself.

It has been a long time since I have seen an article so filled with thin-is-in, fat-phobic propaganda penned by someone I believed to be an intelligent, self-assured woman.

You have spent your entire life battling a "weight problem", for what?

Because you cannot believe that anyone will see you as beautiful if you don't weight 125 pounds?

Please don't tell me it was for your health, because yo-yo dieting is much more hazardous to your health than being overweight.

And you know we know you've spent years yo-yo dieting.

Every time anything has worked you have sold that system like nobody's business.

"If it can make me thin & beautiful, it can work for anyone!"

Right?

Right.

Now you're blaming it on your thyroid and medications and depression.

Come on.

You, me and the rest of America know why you have a weight problem.

You don't exercise enough, you eat too many of the wrong things, and you are (most likely) genetically predisposed to be heavy.

Quit making excuses!

More importantly, quit promoting fat-phobic propaganda!

How many American women look up to you and consider you a role model?

Here you are talking to them like they, too, should feel like utter failures if they can't lose the weight and keep it off.

You are suggesting that they, too, should make "many trips to various doctors" until they get a diagnosis they can blame their "weight problem" on.

Please stop suggesting that women cannot be beautiful, healthy and fat.

Please stop focusing entire shows, magazine articles, series, interviews on how uncool it is to be fat.

You are no longer a young cub-reporter who has to look "just so" in order to stay on the air.

Seriously.

Of all people, you are in the best position ever to be able to help women feel better about being normal sized instead of super-model sized.

Please, please learn to let go of your personal demons and accept who you are, so that you can begin to help other American women accept who they are.

Remember: Health is important. Size is not.

Much Love,
A Fat, Fierce, Fabulous Femme

Fierce, Fabulous & Fat - A Derailed Rant

I feel like this is the part where y'all are expecting me to post some New Year's resolutions for 2009. Considering how well that worked out last year, I think I'll have to pass on that.

At the same time, I'm not entirely comfortable just not having goals or plans for the next year. There is so much I'd like to accomplish, and having a list of goals is a good way to stay on track for that. It's hard, though, to determine what my focus should be. If I try to do too much, will I compromise my success? Will I become overextended and then fall back to a position of refusing to act on any one thing?

One of the biggest things that I know will affect my year and my abilities is my change of offices. While I am sure that my new position will not be entirely stress-free, I think it should go without saying that the level of stress should be significantly more manageable and less likely to cause me to shut down in other areas. It's still hard, at this point, to calculate how much this change will affect other aspects of my life and my ability to accomplish personal tasks and goals.

I also need to determine how to set goals that are less about the results and more about the action and the moving forward.

For example: Weight. I find myself waffling between wanting to be thinner and more fit, and wanting to be content with myself as I am. While "being more fit" is certainly a part of my goal, make no mistake that the "being thinner" portion of the goal is purely egotistically driven. I want to be thinner because society deems this as more beautiful. Not just that, but, also, thinner means that buying clothing is easier and less expensive. Everything from underwear to pants and coats are more widely available and generally cheaper. If I want to find a sexy pair of shoes, I would not be relegated to specialty stores to find something available in a size that fits me with the chunkier heel I need to support my weight. If I need a new bra, I can get it from WalMart or Target without having to go to the mall and pay more for an undergarment than I am willing to pay for a pair of pants. (Seriously, y'all... I bought two bras on Friday, on sale, and spent more than I would for an entire outfit) It's ridiculous the things that we have to put up with when we're fat.

You can say what you want about the reasons we're fat and how we're doing it to ourselves, but, at some point, you have to face the fact that America is becoming fatter by the day, but the consumer industry is not keeping up with America's expanding waistline.

Take WalMart, for example. I'll go out on a limb and say that the Sam Walton family of companies is responsible for not just the obsoleting of the small store, but that they are also directly responsible for fattening the American consumer. I dare you to take one look around a WalMart or a Sam's Club and tell me I'm lying. You can't, because it's true. If you have any doubts, take a look around at your fellow consumers. How many of them are riding around in those motorized carts because they have become so fat that they are disabled?

Now that we've established WalMart's culpability in America's obesity problem, let's take a moment to see how WalMart is supporting its now-fat consumers. Looking through the clothing section, you'll find yourself hard pressed to find clothes higher than "misses" sizes. When you finally do discover the "women's" section of clothes, you'll find that fatties are pretty much relegated to elastic waist pants and hideous shirts. Bras for fat girls are virtually non-existent. Even if you can find one that claims to be the right size, it's almost a given that it will not pass the try-on test. Looking for panties? I hope you enjoy the granny style!

Men's clothes have similar issues. They do sell more (and more "mainstream" styles) in extended sizing, but you will be paying more, and the size as listed is probably not going to fit the same as the same size at another store.

(How derailed did this post get?)

I don't think that being fat makes me less attractive. The feedback I get tends to support this belief (in fact, I get way more positive feedback about the way I look than I did when I wore a size four). So why does it have to be so hard - and expensive! - to be a beautiful fat woman?

What is wrong with a society that works so hard to tell us we should be practically anorexic and, at the same time, spends so much money convincing us that we need to do things and buy things and eat things that, intrinsically, make us fat? And, because we can't get through the day without a trip through a drive-through, Americans spend billions on a diet industry that, by its very nature, sets us up to fail.

Maybe it's time to wander back to my point?

Um. Right.

My point is: Do I really want to fall within society's standards for beauty?

Oh, hell no!

Honey, I am way too much to fit all of into a size four ever again. Too much style, too much attitude, too much fierce, fabulous femme. A size four would never hold it all in. Are you kidding?

So what do I want?

I want to be more fit. I want to be stronger. I want to be more able to do the things I want to do and like to do without worrying about whether I'll have the stamina to make it through.

Can we have a long day of playing with the Monkeys, take a trip to the snow, to the ocean, go mini golfing or laser tagging without needing a nap or a day of rest afterwards?

Our life is hard! It's an endurance race with no finish line, and it's not fixing to get easier any time soon.

What do I want?

I want to know that I can handle it, that we can handle it, and that I'll still have the energy for "me" time or "us" time at the end of the day.

At the same time, it would be really nice if manufacturers, designers and merchandisers would realize that beauty comes in all sizes. And that, if they want my money, they had better start selling beauty in my sizes.

How am I planning on turning all this ranting into goals I can work towards?

I have no clue.

Yet.

I'll be happy to take any advice y'all have. And I'll get back to you soon with some goals for the year.

Random and Capricious

I was skimming through various news feeds this morning and came across a headline indicating that obesity in middle age has the affect of aging your brain more quickly, thus increasing your risk of Alzheimer's. The article it linked to was barely a paragraph, so I did a little googling and came up with this. While I should probably be concerned, I'm having a hard time taking seriously an article that cannot get "to, too, two" usage correct twice in the same sentence (and the headline, no less!).

If you follow dooce, you will know that she recently started a 21-day cleanse. Following her blog and her twitter, it sounds like it is doing good things for her, and the way she feels, and her energy levels (energy? what's that like?). Intrigued, I checked out the book she was using as her guide, Quantum Wellness. "A Practical and Spiritual Guide to Health and Wellness".

Mmmkay.

Maybe it's because I went to Christian school for junior high and was obliged to go to mass once a week (at least) for two years, but I just have a problem with someone assuming they can dictate my spirituality, even if it is just the practice of it and not the nature of it.

Add to that the program's blessing by Oprah (who may be many things, but a health guru, in my opinion, is not one of them), and, to me, this sounds more and more like the next quack diet.

I've seen a lot of information, in passing, on various cleansing diets, mostly good. I imagine it probably would be good for me, especially considering the crap I load into my body.

This program, however, I don't think would be a good fit.

In Other News:

MonkeyDo has been feverishly creating comics this weekend. She's very excited about her little comic. I haven't actually looked at it, yet, even though she gave me the first set. I'm thinking that maybe it would be fun to have a family project and create a "'zine" to mail out to friends and family.

The Damn Volvo:

I had a talk with dad last night, and he brought up some very good points about the Volvo. Not the least of which is that probably the reason we have so much trouble getting her back on the road when something goes wrong is because we're not taking her to a Volvo mechanic. He suggested that the issue may be as simple as our mechanic's inexperience with Volvo. He has also offered to pay for the diagnostic to find out what the heck is really going on with her (thanks, dad!).

When SweetPea was making the calls a couple of weeks ago to Volvo mechanics, one suggested what he thought might be the issue. He said that he saw that problem all the time in Volvos of similar mileage. Everyone else she talked to just quoted her for a diagnostic.

Personally, I've always preferred mechanics who can feel a problem out just by what you're telling them, especially if it is a fairly common problem. I know that it's not always that easy, but I guess it makes me feel more like I can take her in, tell the mechanic that "she's just not riding right" and he's not going to go "riiiight" and assume I'm overreacting.

Because I'm sure y'all have heard about my particular brand of vehicular hypochondria. And, also, about how I'm infrequently wrong.

Maybe it is time for a new mechanic, all the way around.

Up for Today:

The magic of family. We've been borrowing SweetPea's mom's car. Which means SweetPea has been doing the driving for both families. Today, we are taking SweetPea's mom out to SweetPea's grandpa's house in El Dorado Hills so that mom can pick up grandpa's van.

So mom will be borrowing grandpa's van while we're borrowing her car.

Heh.

Next Weekend:

Pride weekend in San Francisco. I have never been to the Pride Parade, but have been to Dyke March a couple of times. Huh. And, now that I'm thinking on it, every time I've stayed the night at a friend's house in Antioch. A friend I lost contact with (more than less voluntarily) a couple of years ago. Every time, we went to bed Saturday with the intention of "discussing" heading back into The City on Sunday for the parade. And every time waking up Sunday feeling like "oh, hell no" we're not doing that.

I have no idea what's going on for next weekend, but I do know a group of recently dejected dykes who could probably use some eye candy. Not to mention snubbing their collectively cute noses at a particularly underhanded woman who everyone considered a friend.

Ooh, ooh! Can I get more vague?

For bonus points: Neighbor was having a discussion with one of them and mentioned that "those two down the street" (meaning us) had pegged the ex-friend for what she was the very first time we met her.

Score!

I told y'all our bullshit detectors were way strong.

Scotch on the Rocks

I forget how much I enjoy this part of the year. Getting out and doing things. This is the time of year that I really wish I was in better shape and had more energy. We would be out doing things all the time.

Today we went out to Negro Bar with a group of lesbians. We had a really good time. OK, yeah, it kicked our asses because we're not used to that kind of thing. What with all the fixing and packing and loading and unloading and unpacking and packing and loading and unloading. OMG! I was so pooped I didn't even really get a chance to explore. I did manage to get some pictures. Are you suprised? Oh, no, you're not!

Oh, look.. SweetPea and MonkeyDo

MonkeySee and Neighbor

Chief and Tonto (Tonto previously known as C)

Sparky

The Hive Queen and Neighbor

There's a little boy that has been in MonkeyDo's class since kindergarten (ok, except for this year). She had the biggest crush on him, and he was even her "boyfriend" for awhile. The woman on the right is his mom. The woman on the left is mom's girlfriend.

The Queen's puppy, Royce. She says he's an "apple faced chihuaha".

I bet that's cold!

It's like he's trying to tell me something, and I just don't understand.

How cute is she?

Is it me, or does he looked stuffed? This little shit climbed up into the bag o' chicken that Chief and Tonto brought.

Would a trip to a body of water be complete without pictures of rocks?

Or water?

I'm disappointed in the way that the pictures from the shady areas turned out. I guess I forgot that about lighting. Maybe that's what happens when you walk away from your camera for the better part of nine months. Or maybe I'm just a dumbass.

Circular Blog Post

Apparently, Mother Nature has decided that we shall either bake or be subjected to 20 to 25 mph winds. Because we just can't get enough of the wind. The 10 day forecast, which is significantly cooler than the previous week, does not contain a day where there is no wind.

I fucking hate the fucking wind.

I may have mentioned this previously? I am so over the wind it is not even funny. All I want to do is seal up the house and crawl into a hole and hope it stops. Unfortunately, we have no AC, so the only way the house resembles cool is by leaving windows and doors open. Not that it matters. When it was cooler, earlier in the year, and the wind and pollen were out, I did seal up the house. It didn't help.

It's probable that I'm staying home tomorrow, because my allergies are already kicking my ass.

In other news, a blog that I read posted a link to this today. Illustrated BMI categories. My personal favorite? Jessica, "overweight". And a triathlete. Suddenly I want to know what Jessica's body fat percentage is. I mean, look at her. She's a triathlete, which means she's loaded with lots of good muscle, which weighs more than fat, which ups her BMI, which is "bad".

WTF?

So does that mean BMI is worthless?

It's not about what you weigh. It's not about your BMI. It's about how you feel, how your clothes fit, how strong you are, how healthy you are.

When I was in high school, I had a normal BMI. I practically lived on Pepsi, Oreos, cupcakes and It's-Its. I was definitely smaller than I am now. But was I healthier?

Maybe. Maybe not.

How important is weight and BMI to your total health?

Speaking of things health and (loosely) fitness related...

SweetPea and I stopped at the Tower Mart on the way home. I looked down the little road on the other side of the street, and there was this woman running up the street. I mean like running, running. Not like, "for her life" running. Meanwhile, all the dirt and dust and pollen in a five mile radius was swirling around her and filling up the whole street. And all I could think was that, if that was me, I would fall down dead

Right.

There.

Fucking allergies.

Things I Put in my Mouth

Dinner tonight was salad, consisting of the following:

green bell pepper
celery
carrots
broccoli
radishes
sugar snap peas
purple onion
scallions
garlic
mushrooms
tomatoes
oriental dressing
shredded cheese
chopped almonds

All of that spread on a smallish amount of bagged salad mix.

With garlic monkey bread on the side.

There's enough of the salad mix to make three lunches. Yum!

Probably in the next couple of days I'll be making some "taco" salad. I bought some black bean refried beans, and we have avocados and sour cream.

I also bought fresh ground peanut butter and almond butter. I figure those will be better for me than "regular" peanut butter for my breakfast.

So, here's my week:

Breakfast:
waffle or English muffin (both high fiber) with peanut or almond butter and fruit
or
yogurt with fruit and chopped almonds
or
oatmeal

Lunch:
Salad

Dinner:
Who knows. Always the hardest meal, because I'm usually wiped out by the time I get home and it's so much easier to get something than to make something. Tuesday is PTA meeting, so that always makes things harder.

I need to drink more water, but I've been drinking a lot of iced tea lately. In case you're curious, I brew up fresh tea (black or green), and then toss it over a glass of crushed ice. No sugar, no lemon. Nothing.

Divine.

Ratting Her Out

I told y'all I had photographic evidence that she can do it. I posted this previously to mwip, back when I created the comparison. The first picture is fall semester, second picture is spring semester. She was in adaptive pe classes four days a week, ranging from one class to three classes in a day, depending on the day. Drinking water by the jug. And not even watching her diet.

Can you imagine what the difference would have looked like if she had been watching her diet?

And so she's not getting ratted out on her own, here's me, only in reverse. This (seriously tiny) picture is me at an "ideal" weight - probably about 125. The shorts I'm wearing are a size 4, and probably the smallest item of grown up clothing I'd ever owned. I loved those stupid shorts. The suit was referred to by my friends as the Iron Maiden. The cups could stand up on their own. heh. I loved that suit, too.

I know it's tiny and it sucks. I have some originals from around the same time. Maybe I'll try to get them scanned so you can see it for reals.

This picture is from my birthday, this past February. In the dressing room at Torrid. I thought this dress was really cute, but they didn't have a size that fit my top and bottom halves. Once upon a time, it was that my top half was always larger than my bottom half. It's reversed, now.

I never wear dresses or skirts, anyway, so I guess it's a moot point.

Good Girl

Instead of taking a nap, I'm going on walkies.

ETA:

Total mileage: 3.584 (5.76 km)
Time: One hour, ten minutes, with a three minute penalty to pick up Monkey Do from her after school program.

Not too long into it (15 minutes?), I got wicked shin splints in my right shin. Is it still "shin splints" when it's only one leg? After awhile, my shin started talking to my hip. So my shin was on fire, and my hip giving me grief.

I decided to take a leg off my plan journey, to make sure I still had enough gumption to get down to the school and back. When the time came up, instead of going forward to trim off the leg, I hooked a left and laid out some more road. I decided to cut off the next leg, which would have been the same as if I'd cut off the previous one. Only I didn't. Again.

On the way home with Monkey Do, we were meandering by the creek, and all of a sudden she starts talking about "I hear me" and calling to "me". I peek down into the creek, and there's a pair of ducks.

Monkey Do's nickname is Duck.

Total mileage since Saturday: 5.789 (9.32 km).

Walkies! Version omFg

Back to my normal work schedule, which means I get home around 4:30 and need to pick up Monkey Do between 5:30 and 6:00. With SweetPea home sick, I knew Gomi was probably bored out of her mind, so I strapped her leash on her, wrangled up Monkey See for back up (I can't really take Gomi in to sign Monkey Do out) and we walked down to pick her up.

Grand total: right around a mile.

I'm not quite sure which dog I'd rather be walked by, frankly.

Gomi has the compulsive urge to put everything. she. sees. in her mouth. And then she had a crap about halfway there, even though I'd made her have one before we even left.

Picking up poo is not on my agenda item wish list.

After we nabbed Monkey Do, we saw our good friend Miss Vet Tech pulling in to pick up her kidlets. So we had a bit of a wait so we could have a visit. Gomi then proceeded to hurl herself into the air twice, followed by flinging herself to the ground on her back (clanking her head on the concrete) and then wrigglingwrigglingwriggling for belly rubs.

Yeah.

Pit bulls are soooo vicious.

Miss Vet Tech said that more people should have interactions like that with pits, so maybe they'd see that they really are good, sweet family dogs.

We practiced sitting before crossing each street, even though we had to stand there like dipwads more than once while Gomi looked around like "Sit? What is this "sit" of which you speak?" Once she sat like a good girl, we looked around, I asked "Is it safe?" and, once it was, we proceeded across.

I don't know, it just seems like it wouldn't be too keen of an idea for a service dog to go tearing into traffic. This way she gets used to waiting before hitting the street.

Or not.

Whatever.

Now I'm hot and sweaty and starting to get a little sore, frankly. In a little bit, though, I'm measure both those damn dogs for one of those harnesses.

Otherwise, Gomi may never see Doggy Dash.

Depending on how I feel, I may go for solo walkies after dinner. It's infinitely more fun when I get to hit my stride and don't keep tripping over dogs.

Walkies!

Around 7:45pm, I realized that I would be wanting to go to bed soon, what with the work week starting tomorrow and all. I also knew that after a day of lazing around, including taking a nap, that I wouldn't sleep very well if I went to bed soon.

I also knew that there was a little puppy with one sick mom and one lazy mom who was probably bored to tears after a day cooped up in the house.

So I decided we'd go for walkies.

We went all the way around the block, and then to the end of the street and back. Grand total of almost 3/4 of a mile. Yeah, no big woo-hoo, I know, but it was a nice little evening walk.

Now I'm hot and tired. I think I'll go suck on some diet Coke and go to bed.

Tomorrow I'm going to map out a route for the Couch-to-5K plan.

Admissions of Guilt

You know how, when you're surfing the internets, you click on a thing, and then you click on a thing, and then, pretty soon, you're somewhere you never even knew existed?

So yesterday I ended up finding Active.com. And then I noticed the little side bar, that was already filled out with my zip code (well, the zip code where my DSL routes through, anyway) and had a short list of upcoming events. And then I may have fainted.

When I was conscious again, I promptly pulled up my correct zip code and the full list of events. Yeah, I totally didn't make it past the first page when I discovered this and this. How cool is this?

I really have no idea why this stuff speaks to me so loudly. It completely goes against my totally lazy nature. But there it is. I want to do this. I think it'd be fun.

OK, I kind of take it back. Things like this and this totally make me want to run. Because y'all should know I am a stubborn, cocky, badass hopefull.

As for the Princess Promenade... Well, hell... Can I really turn down all the princess and pink and women-oriented? Because how much fun would that be?

Yeah.

About that.

I'm going to admit something I have never admitted in public voluntarily ever, and have smacked SweetPea when she has admitted it for me.

I have never, in my life, successfully ridden a bicycle.

Yes, I am that lame.

I even have the cutest bicycle ever, that I insisted SweetPea purchase for me that has been sitting out on the back porch for, um, about three years now.

Unfortunately, I am an entirely unreasonable combination of stubborn and chicken. With a healthy dose of totally freaking uncoordinated.

I guess that means I have my work cut out for me. And that I suck.

It's ok, though, because the smaller princess has never ridden a bicycle, either. Now, I know she's all about being a "tomboy" right now, but I'm pretty damn sure I can talk her into going princess with me for a day.

Because I'm cute and she loves me.

That Thing About the Gym Membership

OK, so the main point of me looking into a gym membership is that, really, the only time I have free to do anything remotely fitness related is in the morning, during my "quiet time". I'd just go for a walk, except that it's pitch freaking dark and, as you may have noticed, it's not like we live in the safest neighborhood. I figured that there was no way I'd feel safe enough to go frolicking through the 'hood at oh-dark-thirty in the morning, so a gym membership was my only hope for getting some movement in.

Too bad there isn't any way for me to able to just go for a walk and not worry about what may be lurking out there in the dark.

Too bad I don't have something like a giant, intimidating-looking dog that could go on walkies with me.

Yeah.

So the other morning it occurred to me that I was, quite possibly, a complete and total dumb shit for not realizing that, if I wanted to walk in the mornings, I could just bring Tatiana, and we'd probably be fine. Sometimes, my brain just doesn't make connections like that.

Thursday afternoon while SweetPea and I were bumming around PetsMart, waiting for it to be time to check Gomi out of lock-up, I bought Tatiana a reflective dog collar. I think my next step is going to be getting one of those big ass Maglite flashlights. That way, I have a light to see by, as well as something to clock someone on the head with, if necessary.

Hey, if it comes down to it, and one of us has to go to jail for assault, I'd feel much better if it was me.

It's That Napping Time of Day

Right now I really want to leash Tatiana up and go for a big long walk. Unfortunately, winds are at 32 mph (from the north, no less), so going outside for any longer than necessary is grossly inadvisable.

I woke up with my allergies kicking my ass and thought over what we did yesterday. It wasn't really any different than any other day, and there were no signs that I was headed for impending allergy issues. Then I realized how windy it was. Even though I wasn't out in the wind, it affects my allergies, even with the house locked up tight.

Insane.

I hate the wind.

I've noticed a couple of things that have been changing about my appearance. I definitely don't like it and it makes me feel old, fat and unattractive. SweetPea says I'm under too much stress and I don't cut loose as much as I should. I know that's not the only issues, though.

There are so many changes I need to make, and it feels so daunting. I know I need to focus on one thing at a time, and that it won't feel so daunting that way, but I just don't even know where to begin.

Hell, even just starting out with a good night's sleep is next to impossible for me. Seven hours seems to be my limit for being in bed, even though I need more sleep than that. It seems like I do best when I get a few hours at night, and then a few hours during the day. But how the hell do I make that work on a daily basis?

How do I de-stress in a way that's healthy, that I will enjoy (and do), and that's going to work for me?

I am so tired and I feel so lazy and everything sounds like so much work that I just don't have the energy for. I haven't made it through a full week of work since January and my leave balances are anorexic. I'd rather stay holed up in the house than just about anything else and I know that's the stress talking. It occurred to me the other day that, hey, at least I haven't been turning to alcohol to alleviate the stress. At this point, though, I wonder if that could possibly make things worse than they are.

So that we're clear, I really don't feel the urge to find out. I haven't felt necessarily pulled towards drinking more, and, generally, am not that interested in drinking.

I don't know. I guess I feel stuck and sinking and intimidated and tired and lazy. There are so many things I want to do and, right now, it just all seems so hard.

Oh, and, in case you're wondering, I have called in a refill on my allergy meds, and I did take one this morning. It's hard for me to stay in the habit of taking them, but I'm going to try. However, I still don't get to go play in the wind, and they're still going to kick my ass throughout the season.

I *heart* Wednesday

Pet Peeve of the Morning:

Look, Mr. Semi Truck Driver, I know you saw that light was turning yellow. I know you were cruising up on that turn lane thinking "hey, it's only yellow, it's not like it's red." You know what, though, Mr. Semi Truck Driver? I'm pretty sure that you damn well know you're are not sliding that big ass trailer through the intersection while the light is still yellow. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure you had a reasonable understanding of the fact that, probably, you were going to be holding someone up on their green light, possibly long enough for it to turn yellow.

While I'd totally like to give you the benefit of the doubt that stopping for the light would have been dangerous for you to do, I see this way too often to believe that's always the case. I know you're hoping you can make that light, Mr. Semi Truck Driver, but, seriously, slow it the fuck down so that you can stop if it turns yellow. I really don't need to be smeared across an intersection just because you wanted to spare the 3.5 minutes you'd have had to wait for the next green.

A Note About Bodytribe:

I came to Bodytribe by way of the Wine Dog, who is the one responsible for information related to "no ass, no glass" and then something about barely even a locker room. I've done a thorough job of perusing their website and reading the blog and I really have a lot of respect for what they're doing, and the information they're putting out there. I also love the attitude, which is sort of a combination of intense, laid back, taking it seriously without being serious, with a smidge of "arty" (bohemian?). I think it's something that would be awesome fun to be part of, and I think that's a good goal.

But here's where we hit a snag.

Weights intimidate the crap out of me (just when you thought I couldn't get more neurotic, right?). Yeah, ok, that's probably silly, but there it is.

Personally, it's never been something I was ever particularly interested in. I've also never had any real opportunity to really learn anything about what to do and how to do it. The only thing I really know is that it's really easy to do two things:

1. Hurt yourself
2. Spin your wheels by doing it wrong

Frankly, I'm not interested in doing either, thanks.

I do know that, in order to get where I want to be both weight-wise and health-wise, weights are going to have to become a part of the plan. I know. I'm not stupid, y'all. I also know that, when I get there, someone really patient and really knowledgeable is going to have to walk me through doing things correctly. Probably more than once. And I'm sure Codejnki can back me up on the "patient" part.

Right now, I think I'm going to work on getting some of the fat off, getting some time in on the skates, and getting used to being "active" again. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to figure out when it's time to stop putting it off. And I'm also pretty sure that there's someone or other who would be willing to get in my face about it when it is time.

When it is time? I'll tell you what... I can't wait to make that tire my bitch.

In Other News:

My work schedule has been officially changed. I'll be getting off an hour earlier, and will be home by 4:30. Monkey Do doesn't need to get picked up until 6:00, so I plan on spending that gap walking. At least for now. I also plan on walking to the school to pick her up, instead of getting my lazy ass back in the car and driving down there.

Ha.

Did you catch that?

I'd rather walk to school (about a mile and a half, round trip) than drive because I'm too lazy to get back in the car & drive down there.

Also, I guess I owe y'all a post about my tits. I'm kind of concerned, though, about whether or not you can handle it.

Yeah. I'm totally going to post it anyway, though.