Today is my 26th birthday. I really went into the day thinking it was just another day, as bright and fabulous as the last but not overly exciting. Once I got to work, this changed. A bunch of awesome people here made me some amazing weight watcher friendly desserts-- two point pumpkin pie, one point cookies.
Everything was amazing.
Since it is also my step-dad's birthday, we headed out at lunch for a burger at my favorite spot. I ate it with two full tablespoons of mayo. It was amazing.
But now I feel as though I need a nap... or to purge. I really don't feel well at all. Before I left for lunch I felt sexy and hip and gorgeous. While I still believe I am all these things, I am feeling the 6 ounces of beef in my gut as it weighs me down. This is one needy food baby.
Morale of the story: beef is great on birthdays, but purging on rich, fatty foods will ruin your day otherwise.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Be extra-ordinary
Carpe Diem.
Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
Live it like it is your last.
I have heard these my whole life but have never put much stock in them. Eh, yeah, I am thankful for today but really, I would like a nap. And a cookie. In that order, and then repeat.
I rarely commit myself to doing more than I have to. Now that is not to say that I don't push myself-- I am in a master's program, so I do have some ambition. I tend to stay pretty committed to school and I would high five myself for that if it wasn't for the fact that if I am not IN school, I feel like I might as well be dead. I have to be working towards something.
So that being said, I exist in this weird little world of half productivity. I am rather efficient, but rarely live up to my potential.
So the goal today is to be a little extra ordinary. Just enough awesome to prove to myself that I am pretty kick ass after all.
I challenge you to do the same. Make a to do list and complete it. Walk a little farther, eat a little healthier, treat yourself a little more like a friend.
Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
Live it like it is your last.
I have heard these my whole life but have never put much stock in them. Eh, yeah, I am thankful for today but really, I would like a nap. And a cookie. In that order, and then repeat.
I rarely commit myself to doing more than I have to. Now that is not to say that I don't push myself-- I am in a master's program, so I do have some ambition. I tend to stay pretty committed to school and I would high five myself for that if it wasn't for the fact that if I am not IN school, I feel like I might as well be dead. I have to be working towards something.
So that being said, I exist in this weird little world of half productivity. I am rather efficient, but rarely live up to my potential.
So the goal today is to be a little extra ordinary. Just enough awesome to prove to myself that I am pretty kick ass after all.
I challenge you to do the same. Make a to do list and complete it. Walk a little farther, eat a little healthier, treat yourself a little more like a friend.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Up in the Gym yo, Working on my Fitness...
But I ain't no Fergie. Not even plus-size-fun-version-Fergie. Not yet. I'm getting there though.
Tomorrow I am going to hit the gym. Hubs and I have a crazy schedule right now, so I am going to try my hand at gymin-it around 7 M and W and (try try try) F. I checked out my gyms exercise options for that time and it seems they have water aerobics and jogging at 7:30. I am contemplating it and will, of course, let you know how it goes.
I am also going to push for 10K steps a day and/or two miles a day. This isn't an easy goal, but I like the demand it puts on me. I will run more errands at work and at lunch to make this happen. I might even take the stairs....
I am wondering how water aerobics goes at 7:30 at night. It will be interesting to see what kind of women show up, and how hard it is. Can't wait to tell you all about it!
Tomorrow I am going to hit the gym. Hubs and I have a crazy schedule right now, so I am going to try my hand at gymin-it around 7 M and W and (try try try) F. I checked out my gyms exercise options for that time and it seems they have water aerobics and jogging at 7:30. I am contemplating it and will, of course, let you know how it goes.
I am also going to push for 10K steps a day and/or two miles a day. This isn't an easy goal, but I like the demand it puts on me. I will run more errands at work and at lunch to make this happen. I might even take the stairs....
I am wondering how water aerobics goes at 7:30 at night. It will be interesting to see what kind of women show up, and how hard it is. Can't wait to tell you all about it!
All that is Lost
What happens to all the weight we lose?
Doesn't it feel like we should have to like, vacuum it up once a week? Shouldn't the weight we lose be shed on the floor, piling in the corners of the house and looking unsighltly?
Where do the fat cells go? Do they simply disappear? It is a novel concept, and one I am quit sure can be perfectly explained by biology. However, I much prefer to think of it as magic. Magic we can create all on our own.
Here is something I stumbled apon from 365 days with the 330 pound woman that I just L.O.V.E.:
1 pound = a Guinea Pig
1.5 pounds = a dozen Krispy Kreme glazed donuts
2 pounds = a rack of baby back ribs
3 pounds = an average human brain
4 pounds = an ostrich egg or a sack of sugar
5 pounds = a Chihuahua
6 pounds = a human skin
7.5 pounds = an average newborn
8 pounds = a human head
10 pounds= chemical additives an American consumes each year
11 pounds = an average housecat
12 pounds = a Bald Eagle
15 pounds = 10 dozen large eggs
16 pounds = a sperm whale's brain or 4 sacks of sugar
20 pounds = an automobile tire or a large sack of potatoes
23 pounds = amount of pizza an average American eats in a year
24 pounds = a 3-gallon tub of super premium ice cream
25 pounds = an average 2 year old
30 pounds = amount of cheese an average American eats in a year
33 pounds = a cinder block
36 pounds = a mid-size microwave
40 pounds = a 5-gallon bottle of water or an average human leg
44 pounds = an elephant's heart
50 pounds = a small bale of hay or 200 sticks of butter
55 pounds = a 5000 BTU air conditioner
60 pounds = an elephant's penis
66 pounds = fats and oils an average American eats in a year
70 pounds = an Irish Setter
77 pounds = a gold brick
80 pounds = the World's Largest Ball of Tape
90 pounds = a newborn calf
100 pounds = a 2 month old horse
111 pounds = red meat an average American eats in a year
117 pounds = an average fashion model (and she's 5'11")
118 pounds = the complete Encyclopedia Britannica
120 pounds = amount of trash you throw away in a month
130 pounds = a newborn giraffe
138 pounds = potatoes an average American eats in a year
140 pounds = refined sugar an average American eats in a year
144 pounds = an average adult woman (and she's 5'4")
150 pounds = the complete Oxford English Dictionary
187 pounds = an average adult man
200 pounds = 2 Bloodhounds
235 pounds = Arnold Schwarzenegger
300 pounds = an average football lineman
400 pounds = a Welsh pony
For me, I would like to lose anything from a gold brick to the average sized fashion model. What about you? It is amazing to think about...
Doesn't it feel like we should have to like, vacuum it up once a week? Shouldn't the weight we lose be shed on the floor, piling in the corners of the house and looking unsighltly?
Where do the fat cells go? Do they simply disappear? It is a novel concept, and one I am quit sure can be perfectly explained by biology. However, I much prefer to think of it as magic. Magic we can create all on our own.
Here is something I stumbled apon from 365 days with the 330 pound woman that I just L.O.V.E.:
1 pound = a Guinea Pig
1.5 pounds = a dozen Krispy Kreme glazed donuts
2 pounds = a rack of baby back ribs
3 pounds = an average human brain
4 pounds = an ostrich egg or a sack of sugar
5 pounds = a Chihuahua
6 pounds = a human skin
7.5 pounds = an average newborn
8 pounds = a human head
10 pounds= chemical additives an American consumes each year
11 pounds = an average housecat
12 pounds = a Bald Eagle
15 pounds = 10 dozen large eggs
16 pounds = a sperm whale's brain or 4 sacks of sugar
20 pounds = an automobile tire or a large sack of potatoes
23 pounds = amount of pizza an average American eats in a year
24 pounds = a 3-gallon tub of super premium ice cream
25 pounds = an average 2 year old
30 pounds = amount of cheese an average American eats in a year
33 pounds = a cinder block
36 pounds = a mid-size microwave
40 pounds = a 5-gallon bottle of water or an average human leg
44 pounds = an elephant's heart
50 pounds = a small bale of hay or 200 sticks of butter
55 pounds = a 5000 BTU air conditioner
60 pounds = an elephant's penis
66 pounds = fats and oils an average American eats in a year
70 pounds = an Irish Setter
77 pounds = a gold brick
80 pounds = the World's Largest Ball of Tape
90 pounds = a newborn calf
100 pounds = a 2 month old horse
111 pounds = red meat an average American eats in a year
117 pounds = an average fashion model (and she's 5'11")
118 pounds = the complete Encyclopedia Britannica
120 pounds = amount of trash you throw away in a month
130 pounds = a newborn giraffe
138 pounds = potatoes an average American eats in a year
140 pounds = refined sugar an average American eats in a year
144 pounds = an average adult woman (and she's 5'4")
150 pounds = the complete Oxford English Dictionary
187 pounds = an average adult man
200 pounds = 2 Bloodhounds
235 pounds = Arnold Schwarzenegger
300 pounds = an average football lineman
400 pounds = a Welsh pony
For me, I would like to lose anything from a gold brick to the average sized fashion model. What about you? It is amazing to think about...
Melting
This morning I woke up and contemplated the gym. This may not be shocking to you if the gym is already in your routine. For me however, this was mind blowing.
Luckily, I shared this desire over FB chat with my mom who was quick to join me: "let's do it".
To tell you how out of the gym-loop we are, I will mention that when we got there we realized the gym didn't open until nine.
Sad and jaded, we drove over to the krispy kreme across the street and ate our emotions.
NOT. You believed it though, didn't you? You thought, oh, yeah my hunger monster made me do that once or you thought, maybe this could be justified. I know, because I have been there.
But I'm not there today.
Instead my mom offered the idea that we go to this extremely expensive looking gym down the road. Instead of saying, "oh yeah,um, HELL NO" as I ensconced myself in the images of the toned blondes and perfect brunettes that I have seen parading in and out of there, I said "yeah, great idea". And I as I drove to meet her at Gym Number Two I told myself it would be ok. I had dressed for the fat girls gym-- where more than once I had seen a boob or two fall out of a swimsuit because the woman thought the treadmill+ her breasts+minimal support equaled a good time for all. And maybe it did. It made me smile. The point to this is that what you wear to the "fat girls gym"-- a place of security and trust and peep shows-- is different than what you wear to the "perfect persons gym", where we were in fact going.
When I drove past and saw that it too was closed until 9 am, I let out a sigh of relief.
We walked around the outdoor mall where the perfect persons gym resided instead. I would say we got a good mile in. It felt good.
Then I bought a pedometer and walked again with El Beastie, my true and close friend. He jumped through the piles of snow with glee, danced about the sidewalk and looked back occasionally, his leash fully extended, as if to say, "hey mom, you keepin' up?" And I was.
Goal for this week:
Walk dog three times
Work out twice
Go for the goal of two miles a day by running errands at work, taking the extra steps around the office and incorporating walks whenever I can (before work and after, during lunch)
I can still feel the outdoor air in my lungs. It is fabulous and hints of spring. I foresee a love affair emerging, me and nature, melting together, born again new in the coming spring.
Luckily, I shared this desire over FB chat with my mom who was quick to join me: "let's do it".
To tell you how out of the gym-loop we are, I will mention that when we got there we realized the gym didn't open until nine.
Sad and jaded, we drove over to the krispy kreme across the street and ate our emotions.
NOT. You believed it though, didn't you? You thought, oh, yeah my hunger monster made me do that once or you thought, maybe this could be justified. I know, because I have been there.
But I'm not there today.
Instead my mom offered the idea that we go to this extremely expensive looking gym down the road. Instead of saying, "oh yeah,um, HELL NO" as I ensconced myself in the images of the toned blondes and perfect brunettes that I have seen parading in and out of there, I said "yeah, great idea". And I as I drove to meet her at Gym Number Two I told myself it would be ok. I had dressed for the fat girls gym-- where more than once I had seen a boob or two fall out of a swimsuit because the woman thought the treadmill+ her breasts+minimal support equaled a good time for all. And maybe it did. It made me smile. The point to this is that what you wear to the "fat girls gym"-- a place of security and trust and peep shows-- is different than what you wear to the "perfect persons gym", where we were in fact going.
When I drove past and saw that it too was closed until 9 am, I let out a sigh of relief.
We walked around the outdoor mall where the perfect persons gym resided instead. I would say we got a good mile in. It felt good.
Then I bought a pedometer and walked again with El Beastie, my true and close friend. He jumped through the piles of snow with glee, danced about the sidewalk and looked back occasionally, his leash fully extended, as if to say, "hey mom, you keepin' up?" And I was.
Goal for this week:
Walk dog three times
Work out twice
Go for the goal of two miles a day by running errands at work, taking the extra steps around the office and incorporating walks whenever I can (before work and after, during lunch)
I can still feel the outdoor air in my lungs. It is fabulous and hints of spring. I foresee a love affair emerging, me and nature, melting together, born again new in the coming spring.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Well, That's a Nice Surprise
I was reading some awesome WW blogs this morning (I really think I might have a problem. On average, how many people does a normal blogger follow? Everyday I add like five more. Although reading real, live, language has to be better for me than sitting in front of the evil tube that speaks to me). These blogs are so motivating-- I learn so much, I commiserate, I live ensconced (VW!) in their experiences and I feel more able to accomplish my own.
I stumbled on to a little tip that I have heard about a million times before but have never let really sink in because, well, the tip relates to one of my WORST habits and I try to pretend like this habit is acceptable. At all costs.
Here's the tip: Avoid drinking before eating, or at all. Drinking can lead to bad eating decisions. It is also chalked full of calories that you don't need, and liquid calories are the hardest to lose.
Here is how it makes me feel:
yup. Pretty much.
However, I am ready to embrace this horrible news. And, as a small surprise, I checked my journal and realized that I have, in fact, been busy/productive enough not to drink except on the weekends. And looking back at those drinking choices, I sort of feel like they weren't worth it all. New goal? Save drinking for my birthday weekend (the 25-28th) and forget it the rest of the time.
I can spend the extra time e-stalking all my favorite love bugs. Or fitting into my pants! Woo hoo.
Until next time dear comrades:
Eat it. Live it. Love it.
I stumbled on to a little tip that I have heard about a million times before but have never let really sink in because, well, the tip relates to one of my WORST habits and I try to pretend like this habit is acceptable. At all costs.
Here's the tip: Avoid drinking before eating, or at all. Drinking can lead to bad eating decisions. It is also chalked full of calories that you don't need, and liquid calories are the hardest to lose.
Here is how it makes me feel:
yup. Pretty much.
However, I am ready to embrace this horrible news. And, as a small surprise, I checked my journal and realized that I have, in fact, been busy/productive enough not to drink except on the weekends. And looking back at those drinking choices, I sort of feel like they weren't worth it all. New goal? Save drinking for my birthday weekend (the 25-28th) and forget it the rest of the time.
I can spend the extra time e-stalking all my favorite love bugs. Or fitting into my pants! Woo hoo.
Until next time dear comrades:
Eat it. Live it. Love it.
Monday, February 15, 2010
That's a Wrap
Yesterday we went out to lunch for a little V day treat.
We were going to go to the Rusty Bucket where I was going to indulge in a philly, but we were hungier earlier than they were open so we ended up at Red Robin. Simple enough.
I pulled an old lady and had a hot tea. Then I had four onion rings (for six points) and then ordered a bbq chicken wrap with a salad and cantelope slices. OM OM OM OM, right?
Sort of.
I ate 3/4 of a half of the wrap and everything else mentioned.
Then we went to a friend's where I kept it together to have an apple while everyone else munched chips and ho hos.
And tben on the way home I chowed down on the remainder of the wrap, handing it to my hubs on and off so he could help out. Thank Allah he did because...
I checked today to see the totaly "cost" of that little number and it is 28 points!!! It has a total of 62 grams of fat. I think that is more fat than a tub of ice cream. I mean holy lard central.
So, I guesstimate that I had about 18 points worth of not-so-worthy chicken in a wrap.
The lesson? DONT EAT ANYTHING unless you know how many points it is. AND, remember, if it is that good, it's probalby a ton of freakin points that will land on your ass.
So remember to eat it, love it, (track it!!!) and live it.
We were going to go to the Rusty Bucket where I was going to indulge in a philly, but we were hungier earlier than they were open so we ended up at Red Robin. Simple enough.
I pulled an old lady and had a hot tea. Then I had four onion rings (for six points) and then ordered a bbq chicken wrap with a salad and cantelope slices. OM OM OM OM, right?
Sort of.
I ate 3/4 of a half of the wrap and everything else mentioned.
Then we went to a friend's where I kept it together to have an apple while everyone else munched chips and ho hos.
And tben on the way home I chowed down on the remainder of the wrap, handing it to my hubs on and off so he could help out. Thank Allah he did because...
I checked today to see the totaly "cost" of that little number and it is 28 points!!! It has a total of 62 grams of fat. I think that is more fat than a tub of ice cream. I mean holy lard central.
So, I guesstimate that I had about 18 points worth of not-so-worthy chicken in a wrap.
The lesson? DONT EAT ANYTHING unless you know how many points it is. AND, remember, if it is that good, it's probalby a ton of freakin points that will land on your ass.
So remember to eat it, love it, (track it!!!) and live it.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
And the pain of the Cheeseburger shall haunt your Dreams
First, I will start by saying "Gome!", as I have rocked it pretty hard this past week. I stuck to natural, straight from the ground or tree or (sadly) animal, and I have cooked at home to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I found that when I stock up on healthy, natural food I am not as crazy hungry by lunchtime as I used to be when I ate a little eggs, some processed popcorn and a bowl of veggies--totally unsatisfying.
My obsession with mushrooms and onions continues and is, by some accounts, getting out of hand. I think I bought over 100 ounces of mushrooms for this week's entrees. In all fairness, I add them to EVERYTHING and they cook down to nothing....
Anyway. Now to the cheeseburger that plagued my life. Holy Guacamole.
Art and I were bickering. How fun. And I knew that I wanted to use some (if not all) of my extra points for the week this weekend, so I went to a certain fast food restaurant and ordered two staples:
5 piece nugget= 5 points
Double stack= 9 Whopping points of utter goodness (maybe...)
And I shoved these down my gullet (once I got home), with total happiness. I actually added mayo to my burger even. I went all out.
And then... well.... (Warning: TMI about to occur).... It all came back out.
My body was clearly telling me that this unhealthy, unnatural and crazy-rich food is just not what the doctor (or anyone) ordered.
I have heard women and men say this before. They are usually of the skinny B@tch variety, and they whine: "If I even look at a vodka cream sauce, my stomach turns. I just can't do it anymore! Why, oh why, can I not eat fat like I used to???"
And before, I had to hold back not to sit on them and shut them up.
But now I see what they mean. It hurts. It doesn't digest. It is pure evil on a bun. And I will not be doing it again. If I want a burger, I'll make it at home or get one from a place that actually cooks it under somewhat diet-humane conditions.
And that is all. Art and I are slightly over the bickerment, but the day is still yet to arrive. Hopefully some trips to the bookstore will get us back on track.
Until next time-- eat it. love it. lose it.
My obsession with mushrooms and onions continues and is, by some accounts, getting out of hand. I think I bought over 100 ounces of mushrooms for this week's entrees. In all fairness, I add them to EVERYTHING and they cook down to nothing....
Anyway. Now to the cheeseburger that plagued my life. Holy Guacamole.
Art and I were bickering. How fun. And I knew that I wanted to use some (if not all) of my extra points for the week this weekend, so I went to a certain fast food restaurant and ordered two staples:
5 piece nugget= 5 points
Double stack= 9 Whopping points of utter goodness (maybe...)
And I shoved these down my gullet (once I got home), with total happiness. I actually added mayo to my burger even. I went all out.
And then... well.... (Warning: TMI about to occur).... It all came back out.
My body was clearly telling me that this unhealthy, unnatural and crazy-rich food is just not what the doctor (or anyone) ordered.
I have heard women and men say this before. They are usually of the skinny B@tch variety, and they whine: "If I even look at a vodka cream sauce, my stomach turns. I just can't do it anymore! Why, oh why, can I not eat fat like I used to???"
And before, I had to hold back not to sit on them and shut them up.
But now I see what they mean. It hurts. It doesn't digest. It is pure evil on a bun. And I will not be doing it again. If I want a burger, I'll make it at home or get one from a place that actually cooks it under somewhat diet-humane conditions.
And that is all. Art and I are slightly over the bickerment, but the day is still yet to arrive. Hopefully some trips to the bookstore will get us back on track.
Until next time-- eat it. love it. lose it.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Holy Guacamole… whoops...I mean Cheeseburger.
I recently stumbled on some KICK butt WW blogs that are really giving me some inspiration.
On almost all of them, the women (sigh, the majority of weight sufferers are inevitable of the female variety—see future blog on my theory) discuss their “last straw moment”. You might know this moment. I think most of us do.
It is when you walk past a mirror and you gasp.
When you feel so fat in your pants you want to lay down on the ground and just refuse to live; because you don’t really want to go on, at least not looking like this.
The sad part about this whole thing is that I don’t have a last straw moment. I have fifteen to five hundred last straw moments. These things haven’t just happened to me once or twice—they have hit me every two to three months since fourth grade.
One of the best things about the weight loss blogging community is that they too have failed repeatedly. And unlike the you-pay-us-to-change-your-life corporations, they are honest about their struggles. They will tell you the hard, sad facts:
No one can help you but you.
You can’t pay your way to weight loss.
You can’t whine your way to weight loss.
You’re gunna have to fight.
You’re gunna have to fight fucking hard: every. Single. day.
That being said, it can be a fun ride. Who doesn’t like a little competition? We all know it is hard to fight ourselves, but then again, there is nothing like proving yourself wrong.
So there is today’s mantra. Know that this is not an overnight process. Google “ww blog” and know you’re not alone.
And as always…
Love it. Live it. Lose it.
On almost all of them, the women (sigh, the majority of weight sufferers are inevitable of the female variety—see future blog on my theory) discuss their “last straw moment”. You might know this moment. I think most of us do.
It is when you walk past a mirror and you gasp.
When you feel so fat in your pants you want to lay down on the ground and just refuse to live; because you don’t really want to go on, at least not looking like this.
The sad part about this whole thing is that I don’t have a last straw moment. I have fifteen to five hundred last straw moments. These things haven’t just happened to me once or twice—they have hit me every two to three months since fourth grade.
One of the best things about the weight loss blogging community is that they too have failed repeatedly. And unlike the you-pay-us-to-change-your-life corporations, they are honest about their struggles. They will tell you the hard, sad facts:
No one can help you but you.
You can’t pay your way to weight loss.
You can’t whine your way to weight loss.
You’re gunna have to fight.
You’re gunna have to fight fucking hard: every. Single. day.
That being said, it can be a fun ride. Who doesn’t like a little competition? We all know it is hard to fight ourselves, but then again, there is nothing like proving yourself wrong.
So there is today’s mantra. Know that this is not an overnight process. Google “ww blog” and know you’re not alone.
And as always…
Love it. Live it. Lose it.
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