lazy

I've been such a slacker with exercise. I really do want to be fit and active -- I love biking, hiking, all the water sports, and more -- but I can't seem to find the energy and motivation to get out there and get back in shape. Exercise is just no fun for me at this level (i.e. complete lack) of fitness.

Does anyone have a suggestion for how to get over the hump and become consistent with this habit?

pleased monday

I lost another eight-tenths of a pound this week. It may be slow, but at least it's the right direction.

Here's my weekly weigh-in chart.

m-o-n-e-y !!!

During a bout of insomnia the other night, I decided to start tackling the pile of clutter I call my office. I pulled out an old file box that's been carted from home to home with me but hasn't been opened for 10 years or so. I never got rid of it because I knew there were important documents in there.

So I looked, and there WERE important documents in there!

I found a statement of investment with a mutual fund that I had entirely forgotten about. This is very wrong and irresponsible behavior.

I received a gift of about $2500 when I was 18, and my boyfriend at the time helped me pick out a mutual fund to park it in. My file contains all of the statements that I dutifully read and organized during the time that I was in college. I did everything right, just as my mother taught me.

My mom is the most organized person you will ever meet. Literally. A few weeks ago, I mentioned going to my grandma's birthday party. Since it was to be a surprise, and my mom and I were the ones to take Grandma there, Mom had to rely on other folks to set it up. She had everything needed for the party packed in boxes labeled with typed inventory lists that she delivered ahead of time. Jars and containers inside the boxes were also labeled, even though the contents were unquestionably clear. She even had different agendas for everyone helping that said things like: 3:00 arrive at site, 3:05 set up chairs, 3:15 put tablecloths on tables, 3:20 unpack box #4, 3:35 break, etc. On top of this, each person received an emailed list of instructions that rivaled Tolstoy's War and Peace in length. All this for a party of about 25 people.

So it is expected that I carry out my life in a put-together, responsible fashion. I did that for a while. But I take after my father more than my mother, and he is the most DISorganized person you will ever meet. Really.

My natural tendency is not for planning and following schedules and the like. My true nature reared its ugly head after I got out of college, and my life fell to pieces. I try to keep those pieces together, but I must admit it's a struggle. Sometimes I lose track of one thing or another and have to go urgently scrambling after it, begging and pleading for things to work out, while I momentarily neglect everything else in my life.

This is not a recommended way to live. I have enough sense to know that, but I have not been able to convince this mind of mine to change for any appreciable length of time.

So I found this thing I had lost. When I called the fund, I found out that their address of record for me is a place I never even lived. It is the apartment I was supposed to move into when I left college. See, Mom? I was organized for a short period of time. Before I moved away, I arranged a change of address. <pat on back>

But since I didn't move into that address, the fund had no way of obtaining a new address from me. And since I didn't receive any more statements to add to my file in the little box I didn't use anymore, I plumb forgot about it.

My heart dropped when I heard that there was no record of my account number. Then my spirits soared when I found out that the problem was simply that account numbers had changed sometime during the last ten years while I was neglecting the details of my life. And now I am on Cloud Nine because it turns out that that original $2500 is now worth over $13000!

Acknowledgements: Thank you, Mom, for trying to instill some sense of responsibility and orderliness in me. I have you to thank for any semblance of order that is found in my life. And thank you, High-School-Sweetheart, for helping me pick a mutual fund that has far outperformed any other funds I've chosen myself to build on the very small sums of toiled-for cash I've managed to set aside in the years since.

a whole new light

The other day one of my friends was at my house, and she casually mentioned that she had once weighed 250 pounds. I did not know this about her. She's my height and wears an 8 or 6 now.

I have another friend who is as thin as a rail. She's the singer in a band and looks pretty darn good on stage. She used to be fat too. Look at her old photos if you don't believe me.

These are two people who I met after they were thin. When each one revealed the fact of her former self, I was kind of taken aback. My first thought was no, not this person. It's like I almost couldn't wrap my mind around it. Then I started seeing each of them in a whole new light. They both won this fight I'm fighting, and that's pretty amazing. To lose many many pounds and keep them off year after year is no small feat.

But also: I get a feeling of relief from hearing this information. I can take a big sigh and let go of all those uncomfortable feelings I have about myself, if only for a moment. Because this person has been there. She can understand and relate to what I'm going through, and, honestly, that's kind of comforting.

It's also very inspiring. Here are two people in my own world who have been successful with this. Maybe that means there's hope for me too.

contented monday

I lost a pound this week. Honestly, I was secretly hoping for more since last week wasn't so great, but I'll take it.

It's one more step in the right direction so I'm content.


Here's my weekly weigh-in chart again.

map my walk, bike, jog

I imagine everyone's already tried this utility, but I'll write about it anyway because it's just so much fun.

The Map My Run site uses google maps to calculate the distance you moved. Marked running trails are great, but the ones around here sure can be boring. There's a 3-mile one within walking distance of my house, but I really prefer to walk through the neighborhoods or along the bayou because it's just more interesting. I actually don't really care so much about distance, but it is fun to go on the mapping site from time to time to see how far I've gone and get an idea of how fast I'm moving.

These days I haven't been walking for long times; I used to head out of the house and just move for an hour and a half or two. It was times like those that it was interesting to log on and see how far I travelled.

You can also put in your time and get your pace and speed. It'll estimate the number of calories you burned if you input your weight, height, gender and age. Of course, that part wouldn't be anywhere near accurate if you're using the site to find your biking or rollerblading or skipping distances.

If I ever knock the dust off my bike or start jogging again, this tool will be so much fun to use to find my distance and average pace so I can see how I'm improving. Yay for Map My Run!

indulgences

That darn Costco! I've been betrayed again!

First, they took away my beloved Neutrogena facial peel. I try to use this twice a week, and my skin has never been smoother. It was a mere $40 for two jars, but now I have to pay a whole $25 for one jar because you-know-who stopped carrying it.

Then they started offering some delicious no-name vegetable patties. Yum! They're made with just vegetables and sunflower seeds and wheat or something like that to hold it all together. It's a treat to be able to quickly heat up one of these tasty creations and stuff it into a pita with some veggies and avocado, especially when most of your food is made from scratch and you sometimes just want something easy that still approximates the whole foods way of eating you're trying to embrace. Guess what? They're gone now too.

And now? Just when I've gotten used to the luxury of a chilled 10 ounce glass bottle of sparkling Perrier, they take those off the shelf. For the most part I stay away from caffeine and too much artificial stuff, so a mineral water is my treat when I don't feel like plain ol' ordinary flat water. I blame my time spent in Spain for turning me on to sparkling water, which I previously thought was not pleasant at all.

I love the 10 ounce size. It's a perfect amount. And I love the glass bottle because the drink inside stays so wonderfully cool.

Now Costco is stocking half liter plastic bottles, and that's just too much to drink in one sitting. Plus, if you drink it at a leisurely pace, it starts warming up! Gasp! This phenomenon takes away from the whole indulgent experience.

People will make fun of me for having a preference, for bothering to care. But it matters. It matters to me, and it even matters to a few discriminating people I know. At least I think it does since we've discussed similar reasons for drinking soda out of a can. The plastic bottle is so big that we never finish it, and if we come back to it later, it's lost some of its fizz so it's just not as satisfying and tasty. Plus, it warms up faster, and we really don't like that.

So, Costco, if you're listening, please bring back the old Perrier bottles. The new product offends my delicate sensibilities. And if it's not too much trouble can you start stocking the facial peel and vegetable patties again too? Thanks. I heart you.

grace

I'm not a huge video game fan, but I do like me some Dance Dance Revolution (DDR).

I'd love to say the years of dance training I had as a girl are apparent when I play this game, but unfortunately that is just not the case. My moves are uncoordinated and sometimes spastic. No grace here.

But! It's such a great way to work up a sweat and enjoy doing it. That's why it's not unusual for friends to come over to play with me.

The other night, one of my friends, GirlF, was dancing around with the DDR. And, apparently, she's as graceless as I am because she tooted! So caught up in the challenge was she that she let it slip out. Silent but violent, you know the type.

And I didn't know what to do. I can't recall ever having experienced someone else's flatulence as an adult when they didn't own up or even give me a little forewarning to make an escape. I know sometimes there's nothing you can do about the gas; it's coming whether you like it or not. That's the point at which I usually mumble some sort of, "I'm sooo sorry."

But what do you do when it's dealt by someone else? Someone who is not your significant other or a member of your immediate family? Am I supposed to just pretend it didn't happen? Or am I supposed to say, "Dang, girl! What'd you eat for dinner?!"

I chose to reclaim some semblance of grace for our evening and politely breathed through my mouth and acted as if my smell sensors were temporarily out of order while it lingered there for several minutes and on the three occasions after that that I detected the wretched odor. And we both lived happily ever after.

discouraged monday

Drat. I only went down four tenths of a pound this week.

It was a lazy week for me. I relied on some frozen foods, and I ate out several times. Although I thought I made healthy selections, it appears to have had a negative effect. I also had a lot of diet coke instead of my usual water.

I learned that I need to be more rigorous if I'm going to achieve a size I like in the foreseeable future. Also worth mentioning: I just feel better eating whole foods I prepare myself.

Again, here's my weekly weigh-in chart.

out of breath

One of the consequences of being overweight and out of shape is that embarrassing things happen. No, I'm not talking about farts sneaking out when I bend over or not being able to squeeze into a seat -- those things haven't happened to me yet, at least not when I haven't just eaten a big bowl of beans <wink>; thank Heaven I decided to stop gaining when I did. The things I'm talking about are embarrassing simply because they hurt my pride.

So I was glad the other evening when I climbed the three flights of stairs to a friend's apartment and arrived breathing normally. I know the last time I did it I was huffing and puffing at the top because I remember trying to hide it with deliberate deep and quiet breaths forced in and out through my nose so she wouldn't be thinking fat girl things about me. Which is silly, really, because I am fat. Real fat is not something a person can hide, like they can a few extra pounds with a well-cut pant.

Anyway. I haven't lost much more than a handful of pounds, and my exercise exploits haven't been particularly rigorous. But! It seems to be working. And that's a load off my mind.

two updates: one where i eat my words and the other where i am healed

I eat my words.
In these posts, I whined at length about my hairdressers (yes, that's a plural -- one for cut, one for color). And in the end, I swore off my colorist, ColorWonder.

But, Oh! how I regret that. I was too harsh. Or maybe my new 'do is just so awful that I'm willing to accept ColorWonder, with his lying ways and drugs and all. After all, we don't have to be BFF. I just need him to do my hair.

I went to New Guy. New Guy said wonderful things about the glory that I was to become. New Guy said he would cut six inches off my hair (fine by me since it was way too long already), and he promptly cut off about ten. And those extra four inches are the difference between shoulder- and chin-length.

Now, I don't mind chin-length hair on principle. But, given my current condition (that in which my chin has taken on a mate. Shall we call him "Double"?), a chin-length 'do is just not flattering. Double is shy, and this new nakedness makes him feel so exposed.

But what's worse is that the chin-length tresses were not shaped with any consideration of current fashion. I am now the not-so-proud owner of a bob. Without any texture or layers cut into it, it falls flat on the top and widens at the end where all the pieces come together in one blunt end. It's a triangle-do, if I'm not careful with styling. I know I'd think it's great if I had a toddler at my knee and a baby on my hip, but I don't have either of those things. And I don't think it's great. Because I live in the city, y'all, and I'm required to maintain at least a smidgen of style-a-la-mode (How's that for attempting to use a language I know nothing about?).

And also? Also, New Guy said he would take me from brunette to blonde with highlights that look natural. New Guy gave me highlights that are anything but. They are streaky and amateurish-looking. I've got stripes. Ask BoyGenius if you don't believe me. He understands these things -- the subtle or not-so-subtle differences between a good hair style and a great one -- and he also rates this guy as artless.

If the above testimony doesn't suffice, here's the true test. . . I visited family (suburbia and country dwellers all) right after this was done to me and I got COMPLIMENTS. A lot of them. And, like I said, I would probably like this hairdo if I lived their lifestyle and ran in the same circles. But back here at home, where I must live and work and play, I have gotten ZERO remarks from friends or anyone else. And it certainly couldn't be that nobody's noticed. I mean, TEN INCHES! And brunette to BLONDE! The only conclusion I can come to is that it is very bad indeed, and it would hurt everyone's hearts too much to mention it.

But do you know what the worst part of all this is? One hundred eighty dollars! I'm still dumbfounded that I just swallowed my shock and whipped out that credit card. Why didn't I object? $180 for this? This is not good, and you, New Guy, are an amateur. How dare you charge so much? Do you think you are better than Scissorhands? Better than ColorWonder?

And I'm sorry I didn't get all bitter and wretched and complain about the cut while I was there and insist on a lower price too -- at the time I thought it might grow on me. At least I did tell him outright that I was not loving or even liking his color job since I am 32 now and know that I don't have to pretend I like it. I'm sure that $180 (plus tip, mind you. Apparently I still have things to learn.) will heal any hurt feelings he acquired over my disapproval.

So, Scissorhands, I'm very sorry for cheating on you. Thank you for calling me with your new contact information. I love you and your boring, bitter rants. I will see you ASAP, but first I must earn some money because New Guy took me for everything I had.

And, ColorWonder, I'm not moving on. I take it back. I am eating my words as I write this. I don't care that New Guy (unbidden) confirmed my suspicions that you had fallen off the wagon and had been showing up late. I'll see you soon at one and a half hours past my next appointment time. XO


I am healed.
Last week I wrote about some freak-show-worthy swelling. I'd never experienced anything like it. And I am happy to report that it is gone! All gone. Thank Heaven and the exercise I've been trying to do more of. At least I'll pretend that that's what had an effect (the exercise, not Heaven).

onederful monday

It's a onederful Monday because I'm back in Onederland, and it feels just like home. I LIKE it!

198.6, Baby!

Here's my weekly weigh-in log if you're not bored enough already.

no april fooling here

When I started this thing I'm doing, I decided to take my measurements once a month. The beginning was only a few weeks ago (March 12th), but I'm going to measure on the 1st from now on, just because it's an easy-to-remember date. Rent? Check. Measure? Check check.

Anyway, I was tempted, so tempted!, to report a bigger loss in inches than I actually observed because I wanted to be amazing and proud and things like that. I wonder if other bloggers feel this way sometimes. Do people embellish the truth just a little to come off more interesting? It's certainly a little tantalizing because, really, nobody would know. I could Get Away With It and so could you. After all, does it really matter? It's just a blog, for Chrissakes.

But! I also made a decision when I started this thing to be honest and real -- no sugar-coating or embellishment. I'm sure I could spin some fanciful stories that make my life seem far more interesting or more important or better in some way than it actually is. But so far I've succeeded in telling the truth, and I'm not going to let a little thing like a waist measurement spoil my blog integrity. Because if you don't have blog integrity, you don't have much in this world. Heheh.

Anyway, just to be sure that I don't feel tempted again I'm going to post a photo of my tape measure during the actual act of measuring my waist from now on.


That's it right there. And I should be proud. I don't have to embellish to make it seem important. That's a 1.25" loss in my waist in 20 days. (And oh wow! my belly skin look gross that close up.)

It's not a miracle number. It's not going to make people say, Wow! How'd she do that? But it's awesome nonetheless. I could still be at 42". Or worse, I could have grown even bigger. But I haven't. I haven't because I'm taking charge of this body, and I am smaller! I am shrinking! No matter how slow or fast, that is a Good Thing.

Here's a chart of my itty bitty progress so far with all the measurements I'm tracking.