I have been ever-so-slowly improving in the health department, Peeps. I went to the gym at lunchtime last Friday and did some very good running, and that combined with my no-white new eating habits (I don't want to call it a 'diet' because I'm not even glancing at calories or restricting amounts in any way), has helped me feel better. I don't know if I look better, although TT says I do, but I feel better.
Surlier, without question, but better health-wise.
I'm going to go to the gym today at lunch. It's been a great discovery that I can actually do that because usually when I work out at home it means being awake until 11 or 12 at night. That's fine once or twice, but over the long-term it's a killer.
The only downside is that right now today I can feel my stomach swelling because of the IC. I'm having bladder pain; only level 2 which is well managable, but still noticable.
I'm hoping with every hope I have that it's been brought on by the two rounds of major antibiotics and being sick. If it's the new excercise and/or eating plan I'm on, that could be bad news for long-term change.
Keep your fingers crossed!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Help Me See the Light
So, I got sick again. That is some bad news. The further bad news is that today, three treatments into some heavy antibiotics, I couldn't stand it anymore and tried going to the gym at lunchtime.
I had to walk there, find my way around, get dressed, find a treadmill (of course, one that was right in front of the mirror. Hooray! Get to watch my fat ass run!) and the Bally's had their heat set on "HELL".
For the first ten minutes I walked fast and ran. I ran for two minutes, then I ran for three and a half minutes and then I died.
Honest to god, I tried to walk fast after that but I got dizzy and felt so, so much like I was going to puke.
Please remind me that this is what I want: fit and fun!
Please remind me that this is what it is not: a contest.
I don't have to be there tomorrow. I can have to take a break and it's just tough titties if I gain a little when I stop. Right eating would help, and I'm working on that, but emotionally beating myself up for having to take a week off because I'm sick does nobody nogood nohow.
Mostly now I feel like crap.
I hate being sick.
PS - I'm on a diet of no white sugar, no white flour. Good thing I didn't look at the ingredients before I guzzled down two vitamin waters after my "workout".
Nice. Real nice.
I had to walk there, find my way around, get dressed, find a treadmill (of course, one that was right in front of the mirror. Hooray! Get to watch my fat ass run!) and the Bally's had their heat set on "HELL".
For the first ten minutes I walked fast and ran. I ran for two minutes, then I ran for three and a half minutes and then I died.
Honest to god, I tried to walk fast after that but I got dizzy and felt so, so much like I was going to puke.
Please remind me that this is what I want: fit and fun!
Please remind me that this is what it is not: a contest.
I don't have to be there tomorrow. I can have to take a break and it's just tough titties if I gain a little when I stop. Right eating would help, and I'm working on that, but emotionally beating myself up for having to take a week off because I'm sick does nobody nogood nohow.
Mostly now I feel like crap.
I hate being sick.
PS - I'm on a diet of no white sugar, no white flour. Good thing I didn't look at the ingredients before I guzzled down two vitamin waters after my "workout".
Nice. Real nice.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
NOT ME THE PANTS
I went to Lane Bryant, Peeps. I tried on the Jeans of Doom in the same size and cut in which they were originally purchased.
THEY TOTALLY FIT.
If I didn't know that they were going to shrink to two inches shorter and several inches smaller in the waist, I'd totally buy them again.
In fact, LB told me to bring back the shrunken ones and they will make it right. In the future I'm handwashing and line-drying all my clothes. It's just easier.
NOT ME THE PANTS.
THEY TOTALLY FIT.
If I didn't know that they were going to shrink to two inches shorter and several inches smaller in the waist, I'd totally buy them again.
In fact, LB told me to bring back the shrunken ones and they will make it right. In the future I'm handwashing and line-drying all my clothes. It's just easier.
NOT ME THE PANTS.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Bad Pants Good Bar
Last night I went out on the town with Mah Mahan. We've really been hitting the excercise equipment and were feeling good. Then I made the tactical error of trying on jeans.
I do not know how, other than to assume that all my jeans have been shrinking, how to account for the fact that last summer I could wear them, when I was a similar size, and now I cannot. At the same time that these jeans have been riding up slowly and becoming difficult to button, my fat pants have been getting to the point where they are falling off of me, and my bathing suit no longer fits.
I officially hate all my clothes.
So I got dressed and it's just disappointing. I FEEL so much thinner than I look, and I look a lot thinner than I'm dressing.
By the time we left to go out last night I was miserable about the stupid fucking jeans and feeling fat again. After all this work, fat again.
Then I got hit on a bunch of times and once at the bar from a 25 year old kid who thought I was his age. It was wonderful. And I ordered two drinks because I could obviously not go back up to the bar because I was blushing horribly and stammering and acting like an idiot.
I'm too fat for my jeans, my fat pants are too big, I have nothing to wear, and I attract cute 25 year olds.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on.
I do not know how, other than to assume that all my jeans have been shrinking, how to account for the fact that last summer I could wear them, when I was a similar size, and now I cannot. At the same time that these jeans have been riding up slowly and becoming difficult to button, my fat pants have been getting to the point where they are falling off of me, and my bathing suit no longer fits.
I officially hate all my clothes.
So I got dressed and it's just disappointing. I FEEL so much thinner than I look, and I look a lot thinner than I'm dressing.
By the time we left to go out last night I was miserable about the stupid fucking jeans and feeling fat again. After all this work, fat again.
Then I got hit on a bunch of times and once at the bar from a 25 year old kid who thought I was his age. It was wonderful. And I ordered two drinks because I could obviously not go back up to the bar because I was blushing horribly and stammering and acting like an idiot.
I'm too fat for my jeans, my fat pants are too big, I have nothing to wear, and I attract cute 25 year olds.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
TO FAT LADY SINGZ
Sweetheart, I don't know if there is something up with my firewall or what, but any time I try to get to your website I get an error. I can read what you write through my blogger feed, but I can't get to your actual page, which means I can't comment.
I've been reading, I hope the best for you. Let me know if something about your page has changed so that I can update the blogroll and start commenting agian, okay?
KP
I've been reading, I hope the best for you. Let me know if something about your page has changed so that I can update the blogroll and start commenting agian, okay?
KP
Independent Inspiration
Well, it's been going well. I don't know how many folks still read here, but I thought I'd give you an update. Afer my last whiney post I've been firmly back on the excercising wagon. It helped that I took the Troublemaker to a strip club for his birthday this week. I didn't need to be thin for that event, but I really, really needed to feel good about myself. Excercising and sexy red pumps did the trick nicely.
HEADLINE: ACCOUNTABILITY
The day before the outing I hit a goal marker for me. We have a treadmill that has a speed program. I wind up going a distance of a mile and three quarters. It goes like this:
2 minutes slow walking - warm up
2 minutes medium walking
2 minutes slow walking
3 minutes running
1 minute medium walking
2 minutes running
1 minute fast walking
4 minutes running
1 minute fast walking
2 minutes running
1 minutes medium walking
3 minutes running
2 minutes slow walking
2 minutes medium walking
2 minutes slow walking - Cool down
That's 14 total minutes out of a 30 minute program spent actually running. If I put the treadmill at the lowest speed setting I can walk those running segments. I have to walk very fast, but I can do it. When I started out I walked all of it. It's enough to raise my heart rate.
Over time I've slowly been bumping the program up just a little bit and trying to run longer and longer periods of time. At first if I did any running I called it good. Then I ran every other segment, and half the middle four minute segment that makes baby Jesus cry.
Three nights ago, for the first time, I ran the full 14 minutes that are called for. I very nearly died, but I did it. 14 minutes of running.
Then the next night was Strip club night and I didn't excercise.
Last night I was hung over and exhausted and miserable and had to talk myself up by telling myself at first that if I just GOT ON the treadmill it would count. Then I said, hey, it's all good, why not just do the walking version of the program?
Of course, when I got on the treadmill I sort of started into the program on automatic and even though I was hung over and exhausted and I lurched around and looked sad, I ran all the running minutes again. I just kept telling myself I'd done it before so I could totally do it again. And you know what? I was right.
I've been excercising almost every day. I do the half hour treadmill program and then I do a half hour on the recumbant bike on a hill program. While I'm on the bike I do weights on my arms. Then I do the 90 crunches and I'm up to 20 wimpy, halfassed pushups.
I don't even care about the stupid scale. I can see the difference in the mirror. I can feel the difference in my head.
HEADLINE: INSPIRATION or WHAT KICKBOXING CAN DO
One of my big heroes right now is P!nk. She's kind of crazy and strange, but she's powerful and looks like someone who lives in her body. I'd like to live in my body. I'd like my next letter to my body to not feel like it was a message in a bottle.
Here's her interview with Ellen in November of last year. She looks tremendous, but more than that she looks strong. I like that she looks strong.
Of course, maybe the reason I like the way she looks there is that it's doable for me. That's what I look like when I lose weight. I don't get "skinny", I get "fit". So what her body is doing? I mean, she's thin but she still has thighs and a big head and a nice butt big shoulders? That's what my body does. In fact, I actually preferred the way she looked a year before this interview, when she was a little heavier. Her butt was cuter then.
In the interview P!nk says that she runs for an hour a day and then does yoga for an hour a day. Then, of course, she has tours where she sings and dances for hours a night. I can't do that, but lordy I would love to get to the point where I do the program listed above and then turn around and start it over again. Run for an hour. That's madness. I love it.
At one point, when I was about 25, I was kickboxing and lifting weights three times a week and dancing every night. I was hot. Really hot. This is what I see when I think of myself in my head. This is why the mirror is always so disappointing:
That's what I want. I want me. I want me at my best, not perfect, but seriously awesome anyhow. I don't want to be a stick figure, I want to be STRONG. That, that photo is me. I'm going to try and get as close as I can.
I inspire me.
When I reach this look again I'm going to die my hair red again (don't care how poor we are) and get a tattoo. Because I want to mark the day I stopped making excuses. I want to mark the day I decided I was done being old and sad.
In case you want some musical inspiration: Later on Ellen, singing U + UR Hand, the song that gets me through those four minutes of hell on the treadmill.
HEADLINE: ACCOUNTABILITY
The day before the outing I hit a goal marker for me. We have a treadmill that has a speed program. I wind up going a distance of a mile and three quarters. It goes like this:
2 minutes slow walking - warm up
2 minutes medium walking
2 minutes slow walking
3 minutes running
1 minute medium walking
2 minutes running
1 minute fast walking
4 minutes running
1 minute fast walking
2 minutes running
1 minutes medium walking
3 minutes running
2 minutes slow walking
2 minutes medium walking
2 minutes slow walking - Cool down
That's 14 total minutes out of a 30 minute program spent actually running. If I put the treadmill at the lowest speed setting I can walk those running segments. I have to walk very fast, but I can do it. When I started out I walked all of it. It's enough to raise my heart rate.
Over time I've slowly been bumping the program up just a little bit and trying to run longer and longer periods of time. At first if I did any running I called it good. Then I ran every other segment, and half the middle four minute segment that makes baby Jesus cry.
Three nights ago, for the first time, I ran the full 14 minutes that are called for. I very nearly died, but I did it. 14 minutes of running.
Then the next night was Strip club night and I didn't excercise.
Last night I was hung over and exhausted and miserable and had to talk myself up by telling myself at first that if I just GOT ON the treadmill it would count. Then I said, hey, it's all good, why not just do the walking version of the program?
Of course, when I got on the treadmill I sort of started into the program on automatic and even though I was hung over and exhausted and I lurched around and looked sad, I ran all the running minutes again. I just kept telling myself I'd done it before so I could totally do it again. And you know what? I was right.
I've been excercising almost every day. I do the half hour treadmill program and then I do a half hour on the recumbant bike on a hill program. While I'm on the bike I do weights on my arms. Then I do the 90 crunches and I'm up to 20 wimpy, halfassed pushups.
I don't even care about the stupid scale. I can see the difference in the mirror. I can feel the difference in my head.
HEADLINE: INSPIRATION or WHAT KICKBOXING CAN DO
One of my big heroes right now is P!nk. She's kind of crazy and strange, but she's powerful and looks like someone who lives in her body. I'd like to live in my body. I'd like my next letter to my body to not feel like it was a message in a bottle.
Here's her interview with Ellen in November of last year. She looks tremendous, but more than that she looks strong. I like that she looks strong.
Of course, maybe the reason I like the way she looks there is that it's doable for me. That's what I look like when I lose weight. I don't get "skinny", I get "fit". So what her body is doing? I mean, she's thin but she still has thighs and a big head and a nice butt big shoulders? That's what my body does. In fact, I actually preferred the way she looked a year before this interview, when she was a little heavier. Her butt was cuter then.
In the interview P!nk says that she runs for an hour a day and then does yoga for an hour a day. Then, of course, she has tours where she sings and dances for hours a night. I can't do that, but lordy I would love to get to the point where I do the program listed above and then turn around and start it over again. Run for an hour. That's madness. I love it.
At one point, when I was about 25, I was kickboxing and lifting weights three times a week and dancing every night. I was hot. Really hot. This is what I see when I think of myself in my head. This is why the mirror is always so disappointing:
That's what I want. I want me. I want me at my best, not perfect, but seriously awesome anyhow. I don't want to be a stick figure, I want to be STRONG. That, that photo is me. I'm going to try and get as close as I can.
I inspire me.
When I reach this look again I'm going to die my hair red again (don't care how poor we are) and get a tattoo. Because I want to mark the day I stopped making excuses. I want to mark the day I decided I was done being old and sad.
In case you want some musical inspiration: Later on Ellen, singing U + UR Hand, the song that gets me through those four minutes of hell on the treadmill.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Can Lightening Strike Twice?
Last night was a success, Peeps. I started off with six miles (a half an hour) on the recumbant bike at a moderately difficult program with some hills. I lifted weights. I did two less reps than I usually do with each grouping, but I lifted weights.
Then I walked a reasonable clip on the hill program of the treadmill for a half an hour (a mile and a half). It wasn't enough to get sweating and was NOTHING like what I left it at, but I moved.
I did ninty crunches and 15 pushups (wimpy ones).
Today I felt kind of fluey and icky and my hips hurt this morning like a motherfucker, but I did it. I moved.
As soon as I sign off here I'm going to put away the groceries, take out the trash, and then try and do some of it again, even though I'm tired. I'm not going to run flat out or worry about how far or how fast... I'm just going to move.
Ugh. I hate moving.
Then I walked a reasonable clip on the hill program of the treadmill for a half an hour (a mile and a half). It wasn't enough to get sweating and was NOTHING like what I left it at, but I moved.
I did ninty crunches and 15 pushups (wimpy ones).
Today I felt kind of fluey and icky and my hips hurt this morning like a motherfucker, but I did it. I moved.
As soon as I sign off here I'm going to put away the groceries, take out the trash, and then try and do some of it again, even though I'm tired. I'm not going to run flat out or worry about how far or how fast... I'm just going to move.
Ugh. I hate moving.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Losing the Lost
Ugh, there is this challange going around right now, Peeps. It involves writing a letter to one's body. Without fail I have seen, over and over again, women writing to tell their bodies, perhaps a little grudgingly, that they love them. I think that is awesome, for them. Me? My letter (the short version) would look something like this:
It's not pretty, I know it isn't, but let us take the recent events as proof that I really really hate the way my system is set up. Here I am, as usual, finally getting off my ass, making an effort to get us cleaned up. What do I get?
Flu
Secondary Pneumonia
Antibiotics that mean I have to be treated for a systemic yeast infection
Antibiotics that mean that my Intersticial Cystitis is back and I cannot:
Eat anything nice
Have sex
Pee
Breathe .... without pain
Hemorrhoids - because, really, why not?!
I lost some weight early in the process, as you do when you spend the entire day sleeping instead of eating, but as quickly as my body responds to excercise is as quickly as it falls back. I feel like I've lost all my returned muscle, lost my momentum, and I'm just as fatty fat fat as I've ever been.
Today I took my last antibiotic pill (YAY!) and I'm not feeling so awful I want to die for the first time in two weeks, so I have made a deal with myself -
I am going to do an experiment to see if I can watch a Harry Potter video on my computer while on either the treadmill or the recumbant bike. I was going to do my nails first, but as I've procrastinated until 11pm, that might be a little "ambitious". Movie+Moving. This is my hope.
I have a big old post about the difference in weight loss before and after you have kids, but that's hanging out in the back of my head.
Here's hoping I don't break a limb or something tonight! Wish me luck!
*snarl*
Dear Body,
Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. How you continue to function while being totally and completely fucking useless is beyond me. A big old thank you for the gorgeous kid, but beyond that, go fuck yourself.
KP
It's not pretty, I know it isn't, but let us take the recent events as proof that I really really hate the way my system is set up. Here I am, as usual, finally getting off my ass, making an effort to get us cleaned up. What do I get?
Flu
Secondary Pneumonia
Antibiotics that mean I have to be treated for a systemic yeast infection
Antibiotics that mean that my Intersticial Cystitis is back and I cannot:
Eat anything nice
Have sex
Pee
Breathe .... without pain
Hemorrhoids - because, really, why not?!
I lost some weight early in the process, as you do when you spend the entire day sleeping instead of eating, but as quickly as my body responds to excercise is as quickly as it falls back. I feel like I've lost all my returned muscle, lost my momentum, and I'm just as fatty fat fat as I've ever been.
Today I took my last antibiotic pill (YAY!) and I'm not feeling so awful I want to die for the first time in two weeks, so I have made a deal with myself -
I am going to do an experiment to see if I can watch a Harry Potter video on my computer while on either the treadmill or the recumbant bike. I was going to do my nails first, but as I've procrastinated until 11pm, that might be a little "ambitious". Movie+Moving. This is my hope.
I have a big old post about the difference in weight loss before and after you have kids, but that's hanging out in the back of my head.
Here's hoping I don't break a limb or something tonight! Wish me luck!
*snarl*
Monday, February 18, 2008
Enforced Cake
So I excercised my butt off this weekend, Peeps. Having my iPod come back was a godsend. P!nk's U + UR HAND is the perfect song for pounding down the treadmill and punching the air. Biking is done perfectly to Bowling for Soup. I kicked some workout ass, and I can tell. My thighs are starting to get the rock-hard muscle undernieth and my belly keeps getting smaller.
I went to a pool party on Saturday and my swimsuit was too big, yay!
Mentally, I haven't been doing quite as well (see Speckblog soon for the nitty gritty) and so on Saturday night The Troublemaker bought me some cake to be comforting.
Do you know, I MADE myself eat that cake? Do you want to know why? Because I actually caught myself thinking about how horrible and guilty I would feel for eating that cake and what a terrible person I'd be and how much better a human being I'd be if I didn't touch it.
In other words, my obsession tried to flip from EAT EVERYTHING NOW to DON'T EAT ANYTHING EVER.
I know this train, Peeps. It involves a ton of guilt, a boatload of repression and denial and it derails promptly a month after it starts with some major deprivation binge eating.
NO. I'm not going to be one of those girls. NO. NO. Will not happen. I'm going to eat cake, just not until I want to throw up. I'm going to eat cookies, just not the whole box especially if I don't actually want the whole box. I'm not going to let food run me.
So on Saturday night, thanks to my lovely husband, I was able to eat a nice-sized piece of cake. I gave myself unbridled permission to eat as much as I wanted and it turns out that I wanted a slice. Not the whole thing, but a slice. I did not expect to only want a slice, but I did.
Importantly, today I do not feel either self-ritious or deprived. I don't need to prove anything by not eating or prove anything by eating everything I see, because today food is not about proving stuff. It's just food.
I don't want to be a stupid girl.
I went to a pool party on Saturday and my swimsuit was too big, yay!
Mentally, I haven't been doing quite as well (see Speckblog soon for the nitty gritty) and so on Saturday night The Troublemaker bought me some cake to be comforting.
Do you know, I MADE myself eat that cake? Do you want to know why? Because I actually caught myself thinking about how horrible and guilty I would feel for eating that cake and what a terrible person I'd be and how much better a human being I'd be if I didn't touch it.
In other words, my obsession tried to flip from EAT EVERYTHING NOW to DON'T EAT ANYTHING EVER.
I know this train, Peeps. It involves a ton of guilt, a boatload of repression and denial and it derails promptly a month after it starts with some major deprivation binge eating.
NO. I'm not going to be one of those girls. NO. NO. Will not happen. I'm going to eat cake, just not until I want to throw up. I'm going to eat cookies, just not the whole box especially if I don't actually want the whole box. I'm not going to let food run me.
So on Saturday night, thanks to my lovely husband, I was able to eat a nice-sized piece of cake. I gave myself unbridled permission to eat as much as I wanted and it turns out that I wanted a slice. Not the whole thing, but a slice. I did not expect to only want a slice, but I did.
Importantly, today I do not feel either self-ritious or deprived. I don't need to prove anything by not eating or prove anything by eating everything I see, because today food is not about proving stuff. It's just food.
I don't want to be a stupid girl.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Quick Update
Hi there! I just wanted to report in. Let you know how I'm doing.
Under the heading of food I'm doing poorly: I eat anything I want whenever I want it. This is not good. I'm trying to eat more vegetables and a little more fruit, with some mixed results.
Under the excercise heading, however, I'm doing very well. Most nights I manage to walk/run on an incline at a reasonable pace for a half an hour on the treadmill, do 90 crunches and 15 sad, pathetic pushups. On really good nights I'm able to also do a half an hour on the recumbant bike and some weight lifting in the arms at the same time.
Everything is firming up. My soft, white underbelly is disappearing.
My weight continues to go up because of the massive muscle explosion (again, totally normal for me), but I've lost an inch off my waist and an inch off of each of my thighs. Arms and hips are the same (that's where I lose weight last), and my bust has actually gone up an inch. This is because as the muscles build and tighten underneith they go from sort of sacks to sort of TORPEDOS. I, myself, am not especially enamored of this, but The Troublemaker seems to think it a positive event, so whatever.
Luckily one of the first places I lose weight is in my face, and you can really tell. I can really tell. My face is getting pointy again.
Now, as of Tuesday next week PMS should be over and hopefully I can get some of the eating under control. In the meantime I promise you to excercise every day this weekend.
I hope it's going well in your neck of the woods! Let me know!
KP
Under the heading of food I'm doing poorly: I eat anything I want whenever I want it. This is not good. I'm trying to eat more vegetables and a little more fruit, with some mixed results.
Under the excercise heading, however, I'm doing very well. Most nights I manage to walk/run on an incline at a reasonable pace for a half an hour on the treadmill, do 90 crunches and 15 sad, pathetic pushups. On really good nights I'm able to also do a half an hour on the recumbant bike and some weight lifting in the arms at the same time.
Everything is firming up. My soft, white underbelly is disappearing.
My weight continues to go up because of the massive muscle explosion (again, totally normal for me), but I've lost an inch off my waist and an inch off of each of my thighs. Arms and hips are the same (that's where I lose weight last), and my bust has actually gone up an inch. This is because as the muscles build and tighten underneith they go from sort of sacks to sort of TORPEDOS. I, myself, am not especially enamored of this, but The Troublemaker seems to think it a positive event, so whatever.
Luckily one of the first places I lose weight is in my face, and you can really tell. I can really tell. My face is getting pointy again.
Now, as of Tuesday next week PMS should be over and hopefully I can get some of the eating under control. In the meantime I promise you to excercise every day this weekend.
I hope it's going well in your neck of the woods! Let me know!
KP
Monday, February 11, 2008
Don't Wanna
Look, I don't want to post here. I don't want to have to lose weight. I don't want to do any of this.
We finally got our recumbant bike in so on Friday TT and I added that to our excercise routine. It was good. On Saturday I managed to get time in ten minute intervals between getting Wallace down for a nap to run on the treadmill. Or rather, not getting him down.
So I'm doing okay with the excercising.
Yesterday I didn't feel like it, but we've been battling colds. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Tonight I'll get off my ass.
The food, not so good. Doing perfectly crappily potty with the food, in fact. I'm trying to do better and include more veg and fruit, but really now that I'm working out I'm just a hungry hungry hippo.
Also, because the muscles are going on (this is what my body does: "Oh? We're moving? Must be time to plow the fields!" *BLAM*) the weight on the scale has been going up as well. My face looks thinner and I'm infinately more toned than I was two weeks ago, and what the scale says is that I'm fatter. FATTER? AFTER ALL THIS?
I know I'm not supposed to care, but I do. I'm not supposed to be that shallow, but I am.
I'm also tired of trying to find the space and energy for this with everything that's going on, not the least of which a three year old who has decided he's fourteen and going to make my life fucking crazy.
I'll get on the treadmill tonight. I won't eat at the computer. I'll eat a vegetable at dinner.
Today, that is all I can promise you.
Stupid fucking accountability.
We finally got our recumbant bike in so on Friday TT and I added that to our excercise routine. It was good. On Saturday I managed to get time in ten minute intervals between getting Wallace down for a nap to run on the treadmill. Or rather, not getting him down.
So I'm doing okay with the excercising.
Yesterday I didn't feel like it, but we've been battling colds. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Tonight I'll get off my ass.
The food, not so good. Doing perfectly crappily potty with the food, in fact. I'm trying to do better and include more veg and fruit, but really now that I'm working out I'm just a hungry hungry hippo.
Also, because the muscles are going on (this is what my body does: "Oh? We're moving? Must be time to plow the fields!" *BLAM*) the weight on the scale has been going up as well. My face looks thinner and I'm infinately more toned than I was two weeks ago, and what the scale says is that I'm fatter. FATTER? AFTER ALL THIS?
I know I'm not supposed to care, but I do. I'm not supposed to be that shallow, but I am.
I'm also tired of trying to find the space and energy for this with everything that's going on, not the least of which a three year old who has decided he's fourteen and going to make my life fucking crazy.
I'll get on the treadmill tonight. I won't eat at the computer. I'll eat a vegetable at dinner.
Today, that is all I can promise you.
Stupid fucking accountability.
Monday, February 04, 2008
NOT ME
This is not me.
This is not me.
This is not me.
This is not me.
This is me. Who is that bitch that has my body, and what has she done with it?
That last picture reminds me that the Greatest Shoes Ever Made were destroyed in last year's flood. I mourn them.
This is not me.
This is not me.
This is not me.
This is me. Who is that bitch that has my body, and what has she done with it?
That last picture reminds me that the Greatest Shoes Ever Made were destroyed in last year's flood. I mourn them.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Accountable
Also starving.
So I just did a mile and a half fast-walk on the treadmill uphill. I was going to do another mile and a half, but someone woke up from their nap.
D'OH!
Still, better than nothing, right?
Meanwhile, I'm STARVING.
So I just did a mile and a half fast-walk on the treadmill uphill. I was going to do another mile and a half, but someone woke up from their nap.
D'OH!
Still, better than nothing, right?
Meanwhile, I'm STARVING.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Disappointed
I was doing really well there for a little bit; getting on the treadmill and feeling good. As of two days ago I was two pounds down and feeling 15 pounds down, but then the flu hit and while I know that I should be kind to myself, I feel like a failure.
I'm disappointed. I want to be thin, now. I want to not have to be nice to myself, but I want to fight and fight and be thin.
Life gets in the fucking way of stuff, you know?
I'm disappointed. I want to be thin, now. I want to not have to be nice to myself, but I want to fight and fight and be thin.
Life gets in the fucking way of stuff, you know?
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Beginning Successes
Well, Peeps, I followed all my rules. I did not snack in front of the computer. I had a full glass of water before any snack. I took my vitamins. I wrote on the Weightloss Junction, and I got on the treadmill.
In fact, today was day three of me getting my butt on the treadmill. I put on the movie Chicago, which has pretty ladies to aspire to be and kickin, bouncy songs, and just walk. Instead of what I've done historically, which is incorporating running, this time I'm sticking with the fast walk, but incorporating HILLS. Big ones.
My butt hurts and my legs are sore, but totally in that good way. I'm feeling accomplished and already thinner. Not a lot thinner, and nobody but me would notice, but already the core muscles in my body are responding. I feel good.
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na HIT MEH!
Sorry.
There have been rough points. Only three days into it and I'm absolutely shocked to discover how angry I am about not being allowed to eat in front of the computer. My brain is outraged. I keep telling it, "Look, you can go to the vending machine. You just have to eat it in the break room, not at your desk. You can eat anything you want! Stop grousing and go and eat."
And my brain keeps snapping back, "That's not the POINT. I'm not HUNGRY, you idiot. I just want to EAT."
*BING* And the light, she goes on.
Also I went out with MoVo last night and while we had a great time and I looked totally cute, I also was fat-cute, not thin cute. That was rough to deal with. Two days of reasonable eating and a minimum of excercise and I'm already convinced I should be able to put on a cat suit.
The worst part about addictions like this is how the only enemy I have is me. This is my anthem right now.
Don't Let Me Git Me
In fact, today was day three of me getting my butt on the treadmill. I put on the movie Chicago, which has pretty ladies to aspire to be and kickin, bouncy songs, and just walk. Instead of what I've done historically, which is incorporating running, this time I'm sticking with the fast walk, but incorporating HILLS. Big ones.
My butt hurts and my legs are sore, but totally in that good way. I'm feeling accomplished and already thinner. Not a lot thinner, and nobody but me would notice, but already the core muscles in my body are responding. I feel good.
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na HIT MEH!
Sorry.
There have been rough points. Only three days into it and I'm absolutely shocked to discover how angry I am about not being allowed to eat in front of the computer. My brain is outraged. I keep telling it, "Look, you can go to the vending machine. You just have to eat it in the break room, not at your desk. You can eat anything you want! Stop grousing and go and eat."
And my brain keeps snapping back, "That's not the POINT. I'm not HUNGRY, you idiot. I just want to EAT."
*BING* And the light, she goes on.
Also I went out with MoVo last night and while we had a great time and I looked totally cute, I also was fat-cute, not thin cute. That was rough to deal with. Two days of reasonable eating and a minimum of excercise and I'm already convinced I should be able to put on a cat suit.
The worst part about addictions like this is how the only enemy I have is me. This is my anthem right now.
Don't Let Me Git Me
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Fatabulous Dreams
In our current "listing things in a list" theme, I'm going to create another list.
I don't know about you, but the moment I decide to eat less and excercise more, even if I haven't actually done it yet, even if I'm in the middle of a huge hunk of chocolate cake when I decide to crawl back, broken bleeding and fat, on the wagon, my brain starts with the daydream list.
The list of Things I want to do/wear when I'm no longer horrified by my body.
Now I know there are folks out there who have never liked their bodies, and I totally grok that. I didn't like my body until I was 23 years old, and then I fucking loved it until I was 26. My weight was between 160 (too skinny) and 175 (jus' perfect) for those three years and I was fit and pretty happy with it. Sure, I had to suck in my gut a little, but my boobs stayed big and my ghetto booty sat proudly on its own. I looked strong, felt good. It was good. I was an hourglass with muscles; all woman and lovely and strong with it.
That is how I would like to feel again. I will never be teensy, but I'd love to be tall and lithe again and to feel like my legs start at my hips rather than my knees.
A LIST OF DAYDREAMS I HAVE ABOUT WHAT I WILL DO WHEN I'M AT MY GOAL WEIGHT
1. Halloween Costumes - This is one of my all-time favorite daydreams, Peeps. There are several things I'd like to be for Halloween if I had to body to show off. Right now I can, off the top of my head, think of three: A) The chick from the Cake song "Short Skirt and a Long Jacket" B) Mrs. Lovett (with The Troublemaker as Todd, of course) and C) a hero of mine, Xena Warrior Princess. Ideally, MoVo would be Gabrielle because she would totally be perfect for it. I daydream constantly about great Halloween costumes. When TT and I were first married I made myself a cleopatra costume and hot DAMN it was hot and cute. I'd love to feel like that again.
2. Work clothes - Oh, god how I dream of just walking into a store like Talbots or Ann Taylor and taking something classic and chic and Audry Hepburn off the rack and just putting it on, paying for it and walking out. A suit with a little flare. A casual slack with a jazzy sweater. Nothing not age-appropriate, but oh-so-cute.
3. Casual clothes - I dream of making myself high-wasted, wide-legged comfortable pants like Katherine Hepburn used to wear all the time and not looking like a stuffed sausauge. Shirts that stop at my nautral waist rather than riding down my butt. Yoga pants with long tank tops that are casual-chic.
4. Dresses. Oh dresses. I don't even know where to begin with the dresses. I miss dresses so much, and more importantly I miss feeling sexy in dresses. I want to walk into a store and have my choice of the whole place again, rather than the choice of the four or five things that actually fit me.
I daydream. Do you?
Here's hoping I reach my Xena.
I don't know about you, but the moment I decide to eat less and excercise more, even if I haven't actually done it yet, even if I'm in the middle of a huge hunk of chocolate cake when I decide to crawl back, broken bleeding and fat, on the wagon, my brain starts with the daydream list.
The list of Things I want to do/wear when I'm no longer horrified by my body.
Now I know there are folks out there who have never liked their bodies, and I totally grok that. I didn't like my body until I was 23 years old, and then I fucking loved it until I was 26. My weight was between 160 (too skinny) and 175 (jus' perfect) for those three years and I was fit and pretty happy with it. Sure, I had to suck in my gut a little, but my boobs stayed big and my ghetto booty sat proudly on its own. I looked strong, felt good. It was good. I was an hourglass with muscles; all woman and lovely and strong with it.
That is how I would like to feel again. I will never be teensy, but I'd love to be tall and lithe again and to feel like my legs start at my hips rather than my knees.
A LIST OF DAYDREAMS I HAVE ABOUT WHAT I WILL DO WHEN I'M AT MY GOAL WEIGHT
1. Halloween Costumes - This is one of my all-time favorite daydreams, Peeps. There are several things I'd like to be for Halloween if I had to body to show off. Right now I can, off the top of my head, think of three: A) The chick from the Cake song "Short Skirt and a Long Jacket" B) Mrs. Lovett (with The Troublemaker as Todd, of course) and C) a hero of mine, Xena Warrior Princess. Ideally, MoVo would be Gabrielle because she would totally be perfect for it. I daydream constantly about great Halloween costumes. When TT and I were first married I made myself a cleopatra costume and hot DAMN it was hot and cute. I'd love to feel like that again.
2. Work clothes - Oh, god how I dream of just walking into a store like Talbots or Ann Taylor and taking something classic and chic and Audry Hepburn off the rack and just putting it on, paying for it and walking out. A suit with a little flare. A casual slack with a jazzy sweater. Nothing not age-appropriate, but oh-so-cute.
3. Casual clothes - I dream of making myself high-wasted, wide-legged comfortable pants like Katherine Hepburn used to wear all the time and not looking like a stuffed sausauge. Shirts that stop at my nautral waist rather than riding down my butt. Yoga pants with long tank tops that are casual-chic.
4. Dresses. Oh dresses. I don't even know where to begin with the dresses. I miss dresses so much, and more importantly I miss feeling sexy in dresses. I want to walk into a store and have my choice of the whole place again, rather than the choice of the four or five things that actually fit me.
I daydream. Do you?
Here's hoping I reach my Xena.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Fat Enough For Ya?
Many lists, excuses, reasonings, opinions and other billious brilliance.
I realize the silence around these parts for the past, what, six months?, has been deafening. In the echoing emptiness I'm sure you heard the creak and pop of the fabric in my jeans as I gained even more weight and the happy squeeky voices of a thousand new excuses being born every minute.
There are several reasons I'm back here, one being the aforementioned creaks and popping noises, and the others being as complex as the fabric of my brain, which lately appears to be caked in the mud of pointless emotion.
In an effort to stop myself going on in a manner of the previous unreadable paragraph, I'm going to write some lists instead. Okay? Okay.
LIST #1 - IT IS VITAL THAT I LOSE WEIGHT BECAUSE:
1. My health is beginning to suffer - Things are being sprained that shouldn't be sprained because any effort on top of already carrying the weight I have is hurting me.
2. My mental health is in bad shape - Seeing myself heavy in the mirror is devistating. Losing the endorphins by not excercising is having a real effect. Sugar does not actually improve my mood, but makes it worse.
3. Money - My wardrobe cannot be replaced every five minutes while my weight pogosticks up and down from month-to-month. Stacy and Clinton would be appalled by what I leave the house in some days, but a ten pound practically overnight weight gain leaves me reeling. I just plain can't afford to be yoyoing anymore.
4. I'm about to lose my health insurance - That's right! When I leave for school in August I quit my job, which means not only the loss of that income, but the loss of my incredible health insurance. I'm on Lipitor right now and I need to be OFF it, because it costs more than gold boullon with the help of insurance and is plain unavailable to the underinsured.
5. Bad Mommy - My kid is now three and is quickly reaching the point where he can outrun me in distance and speed. That is just pathetic. Pretty soon I'll have to start wearing flip flops so I can have something on hand to throw at him as I lumber down the aisle of Target chasing his swiftly retreating back.
6. Bad wife - Here! Have sex with this hippopotomus!
7. Prejudice - Like it or lump it, there is a preconceived notion that individuals who are overweight cannot control their impulses, have lower self esteem, and are generally slobbier and stupider than the rest of the general population. While I have not found this to be necessarily the case myself, it does affect how people perceive you. I'm about to embark on a new career path. I would like people to see ME, first, and not my weight.
LIST #2 - I DO NOT WANT TO LOSE WEIGHT BECAUSE:
1. I'm afraid of failing - I'm afraid that I'll give it all I've got, the best I've got, and I'll still not lose an ounce. This is highly unlikely, but it is likely that I won't lose as much as I want, as fast as I want, or with the poise I want. I'm afraid that I will try as hard as I can and still be a sad sack of fat. So I'm afraid of proving that deep down I really am what I look like.
2. I'm afraid of succeeding - I'm afraid that if I manage to lose the weight that people will expect me to always be perfect. I'm afraid of becoming food-obsessed, because that's all I've ever seen work. People turn their lives into being about food every minute, just so they don't fall off the wagon. I hate that.
3. I'm afraid of the attention - When you're fit it's not just Brad Pitt that looks at you appreciatively, it's that skeevy guy down the hall who leers and licks his lips and suggests a threesome with his dog. Men, in my experience, are shameless and that kind of attention can be hard to take. I have not yet grown up and understood that I can tell him to get the fucking fuck away from me. I'm still the kid who was molested on the subway at 14 with no idea what to do or how to handle it. Being thinner, for me, increases the vulnerability. Scary.
4. I'm terrified to lose the comfort - I eat to comfort myself. I've been going through a particular rough patch and not having rules in place about how to limit the comfort I'm getting (even though it's from food) feels like it's kept me from losing my mind. Will I go absolutely bananas when I can't turn to food for comfort? Sometimes the loony bin has seemed closer than ever; I don't want to go there.
LIST #3 - FIVE STEPS I AM GOING TO TAKE IMMEDIATELY, WHETHER I WANT TO OR NOT:
1. Revive the Weightloss Junction - To remember that underneith all this fat is a person, and she has the right to come out and live if she wants to.
2. No snacking in front of the computer - If I want a snack I must get up and get one and not eat in front of the flickering screne of numbness and happiness.
3. A drink of water first - I want a snack? I can have one! I just have to drink a glass of water first. Every time.
4. Take my vitamins - Must take Vite D, Calcium, Magnesium and Fish oil with breakfast and lunch, and a decent multi-vite with dinner.
5. Get on the treadmill and walk - No requirement for length or walking speed. Just MUST press "Start" and put one foot in front of the other tonight. Period.
So that's where I am, darlings. I'm off to look for a table that I can embed with my current weight and measurements, and can use to mark my progress. I have lots more to write and tell you about, but right now this has kind of taken everything I have, which is a good start, I think.
More soon,
Love,
KP
I realize the silence around these parts for the past, what, six months?, has been deafening. In the echoing emptiness I'm sure you heard the creak and pop of the fabric in my jeans as I gained even more weight and the happy squeeky voices of a thousand new excuses being born every minute.
There are several reasons I'm back here, one being the aforementioned creaks and popping noises, and the others being as complex as the fabric of my brain, which lately appears to be caked in the mud of pointless emotion.
In an effort to stop myself going on in a manner of the previous unreadable paragraph, I'm going to write some lists instead. Okay? Okay.
LIST #1 - IT IS VITAL THAT I LOSE WEIGHT BECAUSE:
1. My health is beginning to suffer - Things are being sprained that shouldn't be sprained because any effort on top of already carrying the weight I have is hurting me.
2. My mental health is in bad shape - Seeing myself heavy in the mirror is devistating. Losing the endorphins by not excercising is having a real effect. Sugar does not actually improve my mood, but makes it worse.
3. Money - My wardrobe cannot be replaced every five minutes while my weight pogosticks up and down from month-to-month. Stacy and Clinton would be appalled by what I leave the house in some days, but a ten pound practically overnight weight gain leaves me reeling. I just plain can't afford to be yoyoing anymore.
4. I'm about to lose my health insurance - That's right! When I leave for school in August I quit my job, which means not only the loss of that income, but the loss of my incredible health insurance. I'm on Lipitor right now and I need to be OFF it, because it costs more than gold boullon with the help of insurance and is plain unavailable to the underinsured.
5. Bad Mommy - My kid is now three and is quickly reaching the point where he can outrun me in distance and speed. That is just pathetic. Pretty soon I'll have to start wearing flip flops so I can have something on hand to throw at him as I lumber down the aisle of Target chasing his swiftly retreating back.
6. Bad wife - Here! Have sex with this hippopotomus!
7. Prejudice - Like it or lump it, there is a preconceived notion that individuals who are overweight cannot control their impulses, have lower self esteem, and are generally slobbier and stupider than the rest of the general population. While I have not found this to be necessarily the case myself, it does affect how people perceive you. I'm about to embark on a new career path. I would like people to see ME, first, and not my weight.
LIST #2 - I DO NOT WANT TO LOSE WEIGHT BECAUSE:
1. I'm afraid of failing - I'm afraid that I'll give it all I've got, the best I've got, and I'll still not lose an ounce. This is highly unlikely, but it is likely that I won't lose as much as I want, as fast as I want, or with the poise I want. I'm afraid that I will try as hard as I can and still be a sad sack of fat. So I'm afraid of proving that deep down I really am what I look like.
2. I'm afraid of succeeding - I'm afraid that if I manage to lose the weight that people will expect me to always be perfect. I'm afraid of becoming food-obsessed, because that's all I've ever seen work. People turn their lives into being about food every minute, just so they don't fall off the wagon. I hate that.
3. I'm afraid of the attention - When you're fit it's not just Brad Pitt that looks at you appreciatively, it's that skeevy guy down the hall who leers and licks his lips and suggests a threesome with his dog. Men, in my experience, are shameless and that kind of attention can be hard to take. I have not yet grown up and understood that I can tell him to get the fucking fuck away from me. I'm still the kid who was molested on the subway at 14 with no idea what to do or how to handle it. Being thinner, for me, increases the vulnerability. Scary.
4. I'm terrified to lose the comfort - I eat to comfort myself. I've been going through a particular rough patch and not having rules in place about how to limit the comfort I'm getting (even though it's from food) feels like it's kept me from losing my mind. Will I go absolutely bananas when I can't turn to food for comfort? Sometimes the loony bin has seemed closer than ever; I don't want to go there.
LIST #3 - FIVE STEPS I AM GOING TO TAKE IMMEDIATELY, WHETHER I WANT TO OR NOT:
1. Revive the Weightloss Junction - To remember that underneith all this fat is a person, and she has the right to come out and live if she wants to.
2. No snacking in front of the computer - If I want a snack I must get up and get one and not eat in front of the flickering screne of numbness and happiness.
3. A drink of water first - I want a snack? I can have one! I just have to drink a glass of water first. Every time.
4. Take my vitamins - Must take Vite D, Calcium, Magnesium and Fish oil with breakfast and lunch, and a decent multi-vite with dinner.
5. Get on the treadmill and walk - No requirement for length or walking speed. Just MUST press "Start" and put one foot in front of the other tonight. Period.
So that's where I am, darlings. I'm off to look for a table that I can embed with my current weight and measurements, and can use to mark my progress. I have lots more to write and tell you about, but right now this has kind of taken everything I have, which is a good start, I think.
More soon,
Love,
KP
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