Giddyup!

Here are my thoughts on beating the dead horse of me being "too hard" on myself about my weight. Ok, to start, I do not always sit around and feel bad about my body fat percentage. There are days that I feel damn sexy. Ok?

But here's the deal. If I am not hard on myself about my weight, who will be? Certainly not my siblings, who contend that I look "fine." And as a whole I would agree, I look "fine" but not good. And when they look good, I want to as well. And you know, we used to say that my brother looked "fine" at his heaviest weight, and he did. But he drew a line for himself where "fine" was not the goal. And he worked hard and now looks fabulous! He is one healthy dude, and I admire that. I have, thus far, been unable to duplicate his efforts, but that's ok. And my other two sisters, who say I look "fine," would both be unhappy if they were in my skin. Guar-an-teed. Why do I say that? Cuz I've seen them at those moments.

Also, being satisfied with "fine" - why is that ok? I mean, isn't that how people just get bigger and bigger? Doesn't there have to be some sort of mental line that you don't like to cross in terms of weight? If I didn't have that thing where I really am pretty miserable when shopping for clothes beyond size 10 (which I really just tolerate - misery hits at 12), what would stop me from continuing to eat myself silly? Certainly not my tastebuds, because they would have me eating straight out of vats of peanut butter, scooping with Hershey bars (I want that right now). I would be miserable for a half an hour and move right on to fried cheeseballs, nachos, and hot fudge sundaes.

And, AND, I don't think my goal is nuts. It would be nuts if I were a size 6 and feeling horrid about myself, or those goofballs in Hollywood who hoorah for those women who went from a size 4 to a 2 - whew! Thank goodness, cuz they were pretty chunky. no. I'm looking for a size 8, dreaming of a 6. And that's a healthy goal.

So I am going to continue to be hard on myself. Besides, my blog would be damn boring if it was full of, "yay! I did some situps!" and never acknowledged that I am stuck at this weight because I am not doing the cardio workouts that would burn the energy to use up the fat stores. Venting is good. Now, if it would only translate into action...

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

I went to DesMoines this past weekend to whoop it up with my sisters and my brother (oh, and we brought the spouses, too) and had a grand ole time dancing the night away. I got nice and drunk (empty calories, but way worth it)and danced my fool butt off. Well, maybe I only danced off the calories from the alcohol, but it was a good workout at any rate.

A good time was had by all - including my brother in law, Old Man D, who normally is not up for dancing, but sure did that night. He was hillarious because he noticed that he is exceptionally sweaty when he dances. And my spouse who just had knee surgery was dancing off into the crowd, looking back at us with this shit-eating grin like he was some mischevous child. Plus he started jumping up and down when they played House of Pain's "Jump Around" and we all had to yell at him to knock it off. Beer - great curer of pain and eraser of good common sense.

I worked really hard to feel cute, but it was hard amongst my svelt sibs (who will commenting up a storm - "you're too hard on yourself"). Sorry, but it is just no fun to be the chubby one, even if I am not THAT much chubbier. But my hair looked good, my makeup was good and fun, and I threw on some fake eyelashes to round out the "look at my face, not my thighs" effort. So, I am coming back from the trip with good memories and some motivation to eat healthy. And with my siblings as inspiration because they all have worked hard to be at healthy weights. And in tribute to my brother, I am not eating a whole gob because I am sad he is moving away. I raise my banana and almonds to you, Greggy! Love ya!!!!

Couch Potato Workout

I have been trying something new in the evenings. I'm still not getting up in the morning, though I set my alarm every day (my husband is not impressed). But, in the evenings, while watching the boob tube, I am exercising during commercials. Every commercial break, I do push ups, crunches or other ab work, tricep extensions, etc., or I do some of the old "turbo" sections for a quick cardio boost, have done some high jumps, squats, and even just run in place. It's actually harder than it sounds, and there are a lot of commercial breaks, I have discovered.

This workout brought to you by the "something is better than nothing" line of thinking, sponsored in part by: the fine makers of all of the commercials on TV.

Excuses, Excuses

Here are my lame-o excuses for the lack of effort on my part lately (and reasons they are lame):

1) I'm tired. (Um, go to bed a half an hour earlier, dummy, and you are not tired once you get out of bed and get going.)
2) I hate the treadmill. (This is sort of true, but the Ipod makes it "fine" and I feel really good when I am done.)
3) My basement is too narrow (to TK - but I could figure something out)
4) I'm sick of that TK routine (I have three or four of them - sheesh, just pick one and do it)
5) I need to spend time with my kids, not at the Y (take the kids, they like the Y)
6) I don't like Pilates (I've done one section of pilates off of a bad exercise video -never tried a class)
7) It's a birthday,eat a lot (Dumb idea)
8) It's card club, eat a lot (another dumb idea)
9) I'm hungry, eat a lot (ok, but how about eat a lot of salad or high fiber foods or something - not junk or heavy foods)
10) I need to get rid of it, so I'll eat the cake/cookies/etc (another dumb idea - just pitch it. It will be stale if you try to send it to the starving children in Africa)
11) I did some sun salutations, that's better than nothing (true, but not better than a really good sweaty workout that is more cardio based IN ADDITION to your little yoga moves)
12) I'm not as heavy as some people, so... (so what?)
13) I'll start tomorrow (maybe, how about start right now?)
14) But I love that restraunt! (yeah, but if you want to be healthy, you can't eat everything you love. you've tried that approach and it marches you straight to a size 12 or bigger)
15) I didn't bring my lunch cuz I was too tired to get up and pack something. (see #1 - also, pack the evening prior)
16) It's a special occasion (life is full of special occasions, see #14)
17) These pants are baggy (get some pants that fit!)
18) I want to relax (do it after you have worked out)
19) I need to spend some time with my husband (drag his arss downstairs or to the Y)
20) I already showered (are you allergic to soap and water?)
21) I would have to do my hair again (yeah, that is a problem...)
22) I don't have any good workout clothes (because it is a fashion show? good grief, throw on some shorts and a tee shirt)
23) I hate how I look in any workout clothes (hence the reason for working out - changing that look)

Almost Turbo Kicked Her Ass

This week, my husband went over to Sahm's house to watch the NCAA Championship game with her hubby. So, I washed my hair, and did a little "personal care" deforrestation project to get geared up for swimsuit season (gack) and to avoid looking like I have on fake fur underpants underneath my swim suit. In that process, I needed the weed whacker from the garage (no, really just something from the kitchen) and didn't want to throw on my clothes yet, so I just hit the lights in the living room and kitchen and streaked across my house in the dark to avoid givng the neighbors a traumatic experience, and went back into the bathroom.

So, I was in the bathroom, deciding whether or not to try to blow dry my hair, when I heard a noise in the living room (thank goodness I had put on my clothes by this point). I'm a little freaked, thinking, 'Who the hell is in my house?' So, I get into my best Turbo Kick guard pose and crept into the hallway. I am creeping forward, ready to roundhouse kick the hell out of whoever is in my house, when my sister, Sahm peeks around the corner of the hallway! Ha ha ha!!! She was creeping around my living room, thinking I had gone to bed cuz it was so dark in the house. She was one or two steps away from the can of whoopass I was about to open, I tell you. Don't mess with me. I'll kickbox dance all over your sorry ass. ha ha ha!!!!

Happy (Burp) Birthday

It is Birthdaypalooza this week. My in-laws (including spouse's parents, grandmothers and brother) were here last weekend to celebrate birthdays, which kicked off the Week of Cake. My brother-in-law's birthday is March 25, my spouse's is April 8 and my daughter's is today! So we do a big three-for-one party with that side of the family every year, which is great. So, that was Sunday, and I felt like I was pretty restrained - ordered a salad with my pizza burger instead of the fries, ate a small piece of cake, oh and a small piece of pie, but sent the rest home with others and left myself one small piece of cherry pie (one of my favorites) and no cake. But then Tuesday rolls around and my spouse wants banana cake, so I am a good wife and I made it with homemade 7-minute frosting. I had one piece that day, and one yesterday, and now that cake is gone. On to today, where we will be bringing home the big cake shaped like a Barbie doll for my daughter's party this evening. She's been coveting that thing in the bakery case for the past few months, and since she is a second child, therefore needing nothing as her sister's old things are in great shape, she gets the crazy expensive cake. I will eat some, of course.

So, that is the end right? I don't want to even think about the number of points consumed in cake this week. But wait, there's more! My nephew's birthday (on my side) is Sunday, so we will be heading to SL tomorrow for a bowl-a-rama party to celebrate his bday and my daughters, and, there will be cake (of course, cuz there should be!!). And I am looking forward to eating it cuz it will be chocolate cake, and I love that stuff. So, I guess it's just a big "whatever" kind of week, trying to restrain myself in between episodes of cake.

Oh, and in the battle between my hair and my ass: my bed has been winning. I got up the ONE time mentioned earlier, and not since. I did yoga work last night (some sun salutations, warrior poses till my legs shook) and some brief cardio things like dancing in my living room to my Ipod. Sigh. Me = wuss

Hair vs. Ass: Let's Get It On

I got up and walked this morning on my treadmill. I hate mornings, as you all know, but I have friends who are getting their butts out of bed at 5:00 a.m. to walk on their treadmills, so I was feeling like a slug for struggling to get up at 6:00 a.m. So this morning I did it! I won the fight between my warm cozy bed and the first-cold, then-sweaty alertness of my treadmill in the morning. And I feel good. Why don't I do this more often?

I'll tell you why. Besides the struggle with my I'm-allergic-to-mornings disease, I also have to battle the thought of washing and doing my hair. Ok, are you all grossed out thinking, "Um, I hope she washes and does her hair! Otherwise, forget about losing weight and focus on basic human hygiene!" No, no, it's not like that. I have, quite possibly, the most evil hair ever grown on a human head. It is the texture of a horse's tail and so thick I have broken many a pony-tail holder in my day, struggling to get it around my hair more than two twists. And it's wavy. Not curly in a pretty kind of way, and not wavy in that I-just-got-back-from-the-ocean kind of tousle, but big wanky waves that just look poufy and rediculous. So, I wash it, let it air dry (because hairdrying is a rediculously long process that I will only do every now and then) and then tackle it with my flat-iron (the Chi - which is fabulous). This takes me a long time. And because my hair is this way, I do the routine and then do not wash it for three or four days, just brushing it and doing touch ups with the flat iron as needed. And my hair does not get greasy this way (1) because it is so dry and coarse and (2) because my head has learned to adjust the oil levels.

Why the hell is this important at all? Because, if I get all sweaty and such (which I do when I get on my treadmill cuz I throw a couple of running stretches into my walk), then I usually need to wash my hair. So if I work out often, this severly encroaches on my hair schedule and means a lot more work for me. Not just enough to pull my butt out of bed and actually do the work of exercising, but now I gotta add the extra 45 minutes of hair crap. So, there is always this battle between my hair (which does not benefit from the workout) and my ass (which does benefit, in theory). Today my ass won. We'll see about tomorrow.

Counting down - 11 days until my trip to Des Moines. Would like to lose 4 pounds before then. Heck, would like to lose any pounds.

Feelin Cute with Nowhere to Go

Well, with my new fun hairdo, I was feelin pretty spunky and cute, so I asked a friend to go out on the town - maybe dancin! She agreed! yay! So I got on my best jeans, and donned a sexy shirt, and put on my Naughty Monkey shoes. I took my kids to the movies (to reduce guilt about leaving my spouse with the kids when I went out), and then my friend called to say she had to work in the morning, so it would have to be an early night. So, I offered to postpone until tonight. So I went home and sat on my couch in my cute clothes. Darn. Today I enjoyed some time outdoors and ran after my kids (literally, I sprinted - didn't want to get "tagged" and be "it"), and tonight, well, here I am again... home. Double darn! It's like having a new car that you have to leave parked in the driveway.

Skinny Face Haircut

I got a new hairdo this week. I went in to de-tinsel my hair (yup, those gray babies are shiny silver and rather pronounced in the front of my hairline, so I pay good money to avoid seeing their shiny little glints in the mirror) and while sitting in a chair with tinfoil all over my head, I flipped through one of those hair magazines and picked out a new do. My hairstylist swore my hair could do it, and I trust her, and she was right. So, I got fun new color AND a new little bob that I really like. And others liked it, and today sealed the deal with someone saying, "Boy your face looks really thin with that new hairdo!" I will never change my hair again. Anybody got any ideas for the sort of haircut that will make my boobs look bigger and my butt smaller? Wait! No, I want one that makes me look good in a bikini! I think my only hope there is my current haircut and me wearing one of those big long shirts with the design of a curvy woman's body wearing a bikini ironed on the front so the design's "neck" and mine match up. You know the ones.....

BMI BS

Have you calculated your BMI? Body Mass Index. I want to know which skinny person set the limits for this? Which thin dork sat around and figured out a mathematical formula to tell us when we are overweight, "healthy" or obese? I have calculated mine. You can google BMI and come up with at least a couple of dozen online BMI calculators. Mine says I am overweight, which sucks. The cutoff is like 25, and I'm just over that number by a couple of tenths. And five pounds would get me into "healthy" BMI range. This should be reassuring, right? Sort of, it is. But the depressing BS is the weight I would have to be to be "underweight." Seriously? It's healthy for me to weigh 110 pounds? I think I would look like crap if I weighed 110 lb. Again, which stupid think dork figured that out?

Words a Man Should Never Say

Ok, so I fell off the wagon. I'm working on picking back up and getting on board again, and it hasn't been a binge-a-thon, so that's good. I have been stressed out, and being a psychologist I have a wealth of good healthy coping skills at my disposal. I've taught them to numerous people, taught sections of undergraduate coursework on stress management, done public speaking and radio spots about this. So, what did I do? Exercise? Listen to music? Journal? (blog?) nope. I ate chocolate.
Where did I get chocolate? Good question, because I had de-fatted the house more than a month ago. Like a good alcoholic in recovery pouring their vodka down the drain, I had rid my house of all things tempting, leaving only Bocas, unsalted almonds, and tiny Hostess cupcakes (oh - and the blueberry muffin variety are fa-bu-lous). But my husband had knee surgery last week (yeah, yeah, he's fine, back to me) and received a couple of lovely get-well baskets. One contained fruit, very nice, and the other contained Mt. Dew and Hershey Nuggets chocolate truffles. Rats.
I ate a couple of the chocolates from the gift box. My husband sees this and says, "Is that my chocolate?" Um, yes. "Pretty presumptuous to just eat my chocolate without asking." Um, ok (what?!). "Aren't you even going to apologize?" Um, sorry. "And you're supposed to be on a diet. You shouldn't even be eating that stuff."

dead silence

WHAT?!!! "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON A DIET?!!" These words should never come out of a man's mouth. Why not just say, "Put down the chocolate, fatty!" or "Oh, I see you're looking to add some more to your gut." Oh it pissed me off something fierce. I wanted to whip the little wrapper at him. I wanted to say, "Oh, like YOU should eat it all, man-boobs!" but that would be mean and untrue. But it would have made me feel better. And I know he was not saying I am fat. He was just protecting his chocolate, and I really should understand that. So, instead I sulked and thought something rediculous like, "Fine, I shouldn't eat this and I am supposed to be on a diet. You watch. I'll get super skinny and never ever touch any of your dumb chocolate again." Chocolate apparently makes me crazy. Or maybe stress and crankiness makes me crazy. But I still think those words should never be spoken by a man to his wife, girlfriend, significant other. Agreed? Ok, somebody put that in the big book of rules.