3 is a magic number

I almost didn't weigh myself this morning.

When I lay down I can feel my hip bones... we have become reacquainted and it is nice. I had forgotten about them. I figured that since I am feeling physical results, why ruin it by stepping on the scale and seeing weight gain... or the same 'ol 175? It was 172~ ! This makes me happy. I'll totally take it.

I have my 5th Pilates class last night. I am getting better. I am still the chunkiest girl in the class but that's ok. I'm improving and probably can't get any worse if I just keep going to class. ::crosses fingers::

The three-mile hike wasn't too bad. I thought I may have to beg everyone to stop and take a rest on a rock on the side of the trail. I walked the whole way. AND the next day I could still get on and off of the toilet. That's the real test of a workout... do you cringe as you get on and off the toilet? Do your legs shake as you take on this task? Are you suddenly trying to convince yourself that you don't really need to go that bad?

Happy Friday

First off, yay for two very stubborn girls coming together and realizing that their friendship is too important to turn their backs on. I am so happy that Tracey is back in my life. I just feel like a huge weight has been lifted.

Tonight I plan to relish me some retail therapy. A male coworker asked me what that was. I explained that it is where you buy things that you don't really need... with money that you don't really have... all while the endorphines rush through you. The word cute will be used quite a bit, as well as "but it's on sale!" I may even decide to purchase a pair of jeans but can't promise anything.

We may go hiking with the in-laws and Buddy on Sunday. I think that this sounds like a whole lotta fun... even though my in-laws (who are 70 & 60 something) can totally run circles around me. sigh. Baby steps.

What the Hell?

Ok, I get it. Weigh yourself only once a week and at the same time of day because it can fluctuate... but I wonder if my fluctuation is worse than others. Or perhaps it just feels that way.

I woke up and peed (tried to do more to affect the scale...) and then stepped on. 174... sigh... one pound. Oh well, I'll take it. Then I took a shower and got out and thought, hhhhmmm... maybe the scale was wrong. So, I stepped back on and it was 177! How on earth did I gain 3 pounds? Does the water in my hair weight that much? I am so irritated!

I realize that I can't expect instant results. Especially since this isn't a diet... but rather trying to live more healthy. I suppose I need to keep telling myself that.

I have this quote posted to my computer screen at work:
"Forget past mistakes. Forget failures. Forget everything except what you're going to do now and do it." --William Durant

Baby Power Steps

175. Size 18... or 16 at Lane Bryant. Haven't even attempted to try on pants at most stores...I hardly ever try on clothes period. I'm not completely miserable. I don't own a full-length mirror and I'm pretty sure I think I look much skinnier than I actually do. When I get pictures back I'm convinced that I don't usually look that large. I've tried to stop asking the husband "is my butt as big as hers?" Sometimes he's a little too honest. When I get upset, stressed, happy... or any other adjective I eat. When I got some bad news last week the mere thought of a Whopper made me start to feel a little less anxious. I had to remind myself that I was nearly out of gas to keep from going and getting one... and then eating it in my car in the parking lot.

Why the first paragraph confession? I've decided to own it. Yep... lay it all out there. It's not the end of the world, so I wear my weakness on my love handles.

My goal? To lose 40 pounds.

Every time in the past that I have decided to do this I sit down with my diet cookbook and make a shopping list. I go and buy new workout clothes and a walkman. I get a few workout DVD's on netflix or off of Amazon. I promise myself that I will work out every other day come rain or shine. I don the new sneakers and eat well the first day. By day three I'm over it. I have people cheering me on and I decide that I don't want to do this because it's no longer my idea. I have an "all or nothing" attitude. This time? I have started being a little more conscience about what I am eating. I have signed up for a pilates class twice a week. As I get more comfortable with this I will add more. I have added one night at the gym so far. But I didn't kill myself. I have told myself that I really didn't need that mini kit kat right before bed and layed there with a smile on my face. Proud that I didn't eat it.

I want to get pregnant some time this year. However, I hear so many women say that they wish they could get back to the size they were before they were pregnant. So this makes me think, what if I had to say that I wanted to get back to pre-baby weight + some? I also want to have a healthy, active pregnancy. I'm lucky enough to be 26 and married and planning for a baby. After my crazy, young, party days and pregnancy scares I really want to do this right.

So, I need to take baby steps to change (doesn't that sound very What About Bob?) in order to get to where I can power walk and run... so that I can have a baby... and then lose the baby weight.

Martin Luther King Day

Me: Do you know why you didn’t have school today?
Oakley: Because of that one guy
Me: What guy?
Oakley: That one guy that like…says stuff
Me: Uh huh… is he sticking up for people?
Oakley: Yes
Me: Who?
Oakley: Um, God?

I knew that charter school was a bad idea!

The Month After Christmas

After doing multiple lunges to fit into my jeans this morning I thought that this email was appropriate to share:

The Month After Christmas

Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.

The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).

I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,

The cakes and the pies, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."

As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt

I said to myself, as I only can -
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"

So, away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
Till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won't have a cookie, not even a lick.
I'll only chew on a long celery stick.

I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore .
But isn't that what January is for?

Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!

Tranny vs Fatty

I've been listening to the Adam Carrola show in the mornings lately and I just laugh my ass off. Work has been fairly quiet as friends have decided not to talk to me anymore for no apparent reason - so I fill the silence with inappropriate talk radio shows... and this makes me happy.

This morning was a little disturbing. They asked men who they would rather sleep with - a post-surgery transexual or a fat girl. They said about 82% chose the tranny. Why would a man open himself up to questions about his own sexuality just to keep from admitting that he may have slept with a woman with a weight problem? Now, I can't say that I am in the category of fatties that they are talking about. They said that they would need to be in the low 200's. "A dude or a deuce" they said.

I read a magazine article where a woman was very candid about her weight problems. She had a lot of people that would come up to her and offer what they thought was constructive criticism or advice. Diet tips, hair tips, etc. She pointed out that these were people that had affairs in the past, gossipped uncontrollably, drank excessivly, etc. But, since her weakness was out there for everyone to see it was like she was the one that was viewed as weak or pitiful. I have to agree. I would rather be chunky than a devious bitch, liar or thief. I think that many times we gang up on overweight people because we are scared of our own weaknesses. Everyone has a vice.

Any thoughts?