Stupid Is, As Stupid Does

Ever have one of those mornings that you find yourself just perpetually shaking your head?

I guess, to be fair, it really began last night. I got the kids in bed. I handled a phone call from my parents (who are supposed to be flying out for my Daughter's 8th birthday on Friday, but are at this very moment suffering from a horrible bout of food poisoning.) Everything was on schedule for me to actually make it to bed by about 10:30PM. I only meant to pick up my book and move it...


Yeah, well, at 1 AM I looked up and could have smacked myself.

That made getting up at 4:30AM this morning REALLY difficult. Even moreso because of the extra treat I got at 3AM with a horrible leg cramp in my left calf. You know the type - you're dreaming about something wonderful and then out of nowhere you are sitting up in bed, clutching your calf and whimpering like a baby. I'm still limping from it. Today, you can all call me Igor.

But, well, the title of my post says it all. Stupid is, as stupid does. From there it got a lot more entertaining.

Today is P90X Yoga Day. It is also "Risk Your Marriage Day". Why? Because the yoga session and the Kenpo (Fridays) session are the only two that hubby and I do together in the morning. I swear, the man has a deathwish.

Minus the fact that it was on no sleep, I was going along just fine. That is, until we reached the balance poses. Oh no, it's not what you think. I was just fine with them (for the most part, minus my right arch which kept falling. There is nothing quite like excrutiating pain to keep you awake and focused!) No, it was trying to maintain these balance poses, while out of the corner of my eye watching my husband take a header over, and OVER, and OVER again.

I have NO idea what was wrong with him today - HE went to bed at 9 PM for crying out loud, so he doesn't even have that excuse! I don't know what was worse, the fact that it made ME wobble to see him continuously topple, or trying to stifle the laughter. And let me tell you, stifling laughter isn't a good idea during yoga when you are supposed to be BREATHING. I think I actually started seeing stars from the lack of oxygen.

I know... I'm a bad, bad person. But just so you know, he'd be laughing himself sick if the situation were reversed.

By the time we made it to the end of the 90 minutes, and we were in the "relaxation" segment, I actually found myself sick to my stomach for no reason at all. Ok, it could have been a reaction to trying to refrain from giggling, or what not. But whatever it was, while we were laying there trying to relax, all I could think about was trying to not throw up.

I was successful, and thought I was recovered until I took my daughter out to the bus stop about 20 minutes later. I was just standing there, enjoying the sunshine and warmth. Perfectly innocent, mind you! I began telling my daughter that I hoped she had a great day, when suddenly a little suicidal gnat flew straight into my mouth and bounced around the back of my throat like a pinball machine!


OMG, I thought I was going to be sick. I was hacking up a lung, and suddenly my nausea was back full force. I'm sure you have been there; bent over with your hands on your knees, mentally counting to 100, and everyone going on like nothing has happened and they expect you to participate in the conversation, so you have to hold up your index finger in the universal sign for "SHUTUPAFREAKIN' MINUTE!!!!!" because you can't trust yourself to speak and not lose it.

Yes, I lead the most dainty life, don't I?

This has certainly renewed my suspicions that the bug alert is still out on me. I should have noticed that something was still amiss last night while I was reading, as I kept hearing what sounded like a bevy of helicopters against the screen. We're having a strange influx of June-bugs - one of the weirdest insects on the planet. They're sort of the 757 of roaches, aren't they?

Well, considering it is only 8:30AM, I plan on keeping my head down (and mouth closed, thank you very much) in an attempt to stem the flow of strange and disgusting occurrences. I know, it's a pretty pointless gesture, judging from my previous history. But a girl has gotta keep tryin'!

I did 100% perfect on my nutrition yesterday. So far so good today as well. I foresee no problems whatsoever! Now, my biggest concern is whether my parents will make it out here, or I'll have upset kids (but I'd rather they were here when they're healthy) and what to do if different plans are needed.... Hmmm

Also... today is my son's LAST day of PreSchool...... EVER. I'll be fine...I'll be fine... I'll be fine.....

It's All About Control

There are some people who actually can't eat when they get even a little stressed. Or, there are those who feel that when everything else is out of control, that exercising strict control over what they eat (even to the point of denying food altogether) is their only option, and it makes them feel better - as if they DO really have control, ultimately.

I am not one of those people.

Oh sure, there is a max-breaking point when I freak out, my hair stands on end, and my eyes sort of wobble about in my head while I wander around singing nursery rhymes. At that point, I don't eat much of anything, except maybe the table I chew on sporadically, and the collar of the white coat they put me in... (Hey! That's high fiber, don't knock it!)

But, for the most part, I'm the opposite of the starving-stresser. I'm a stress-EATER!

It is, of course, a scientific fact that eating something "comforting" actually DOES make you feel better (endorphines and all that). But it's more than that. I think, in my messed up mind, that eating what I am SUPPOSED to - when everything ELSE is out of my control - just feels like that is also out of my control and I am left with nothing. In my twisted mind I guess eating what I am craving is a way of wresting back some of my control when life is spinning me off a cliff. More than that, often I find that you are not "allowed" to be angry at people or circumstances beyond your control - so being able to beat yourself up about your weight/eating gives you an outlet for the anger you feel.

Ok, not that I'm justifying that - because that is just S-T-U-P-I-D. I'm just acknowledging my twisted, screwed up, crazy thinking. And now... Well, now I am acknowledging that I have been out of control for most of the year so far. Not with my exercising. Nope, that isn't the problem at all. As a friend, Maggie, has said - I am a prime example of how important diet is, because I exercise religiously, and HARD. But it isn't enough.

The only upside to the out of control eating is that it has certainly supported lean mass gain. However, it's PAST time to stop my stupid nutritional behavior. I have enough muscle to be endlessly happy. I have enough strength to be satisfied, being able to leg press well over 600 lbs, and benching more than my body weight by 10%. (Except a guy actually said to me "not bad... for a girl"..... I could have decked him. I didn't think that benching over 200 lbs was such a small accomplishment. But maybe not? Maybe I really am just at the stronger side of a weakling in general? What is considered a "good and strong" benching weight?)

The only thing I am unhappy with is my weight/bodyfat. And how does one change that? Not a big freakin' mystery is it!

I know that I have been eating like an idiot, because I feel like one. Like I don't have control over my life. But I wake up every morning, lamenting the body that I am in. Yes, I know it's not the same as when I was obese. That was a long time ago, but I think anyone who has been there will agree with me - you NEVER EVER lose that feeling. When I look in the mirror, I still see that obese girl standing there. When I get up, when I move around, I still FEEL it there even in phantom. Worst of all, when I have been out of control with my food, I can feel myself sliding back there.

So, again, I am working on wresting back control in the correct fashion, instead of with a bowl of ice cream. My weight is up, and I am ashamed of that. It's time to get it working on it's way back down the scale. My weight has always been such a sore point with me, it's hard to see it as an enjoyable and worthy challenge. But I'm trying to make it one!

I know it's simply a matter of getting the ball rolling in the right direction and piling up the "correct days". I know they build up momentum, and it gets easier. I'm looking forward to that!

Fight! Fight! Fight!

I found this fun little thing the American Cancer Society is starting, trying to motivate people to get in gear with their nutrition : http://getinthering.cancer.org/index.cfm

Check out my fight poster: The link takes you to two different places, the first is the "make your own poster" place, the second is a presentation on getting it together along with some basic tools and tests that may be of interest to you! Everything from a BMI, target heart rate, and calorie calculator, to a Nutritionist, a Doctor and a Personal Trainer on the interactive presentation. Pretty slick, if you ask me! (Though the nutritionist looked more fit than the personal trainer - who had a belly on him... hmmm another example of a great body being 80% made in the kitchen???)

They've clearly gone to a lot of effort to make this a user friendly doorway to better health. It's a bit below us fanatics, but if you are starting out or need a little extra information or ideas, I highly recommend it! Especially for the beginners out there (Hey, we all have to start somewhere! I didn't get to 220+ lbs by being on the ball fitness and nutrition-wise. There is no shame in that, only in passing up another opportunity to turn it around.)

You're BUGGING Me!

It's entirely possible that a full-scale, attack on sight, bug-alert has been issued on me. It's the only explanation I can come up with. You wouldn't believe the stuff that has happened!

This morning, when I went to the basement to exercise, I found my shoes being held hostage by a couple of spiders the size of Buicks.


Hey, that's not that unusual in a basement, right? Even a finished one....right? Anyway, Heckle and Jeckle had hold of my running shoes, and weren't giving them up without a fight. When I tried waving them away, Heckle went towards me on the offensive, and Jeckle actually CRAWLED INTO MY RIGHT SHOE! Are they supposed to coordinate attacks like that?

I'm a little ashamed to say I didn't have much patience at that point. Normally, I believe in live and let live (I'd normally trap them and toss them back outside), but NOBODY was going to keep me from my workout, dagnabbit! I grabbed one of the 10 lbs plates for my dumbbells and Heckle met his end. I then gingerly reached out with my foot and knocked over my other shoe.

Nothing happened at first, and then one thin, long, and badly in need of a shave hairy leg came up and over the side, followed by the other seven. Jeckle just sat there staring me down. I knew I couldn't drop another plate on him, for multiple reasons - the rest of the plates were behind him, I didn't want to pick up Heckle's yet just in case he wasn't totally out for the count, it would likely hit the shoe, bounce off, and cause Jeckle to launch an all out attack, etc.

I'd like to mention that during this whole episode my giant 22 lbs cat just sat on the half-wall, watching in amusement. I'm not entirely sure, but I think I heard laughter. The great hunter, offering moral support. ....The traitor! I mean, what do I feed him for, if not to save me from hairy, eight-legged beasties with a running shoe fetish?!?!?

It was at this point of mutual stand-off that air-support was called in.

Jeckle and I were glaring at each other, eye to eyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeye (er, you get the idea) when suddenly a great, giant black thing came swooping down at me from the ceiling. This brought about another shameful moment for me. I actually SQUEALED like a girl. Yes, I know. I'm not proud.

I ducked, and glancing wildly around, dove for cover out of the exercise room. At this point, I had my back pressed to the halfwall, panting, trying to calm my racing heart. What the H...???? Something brushed my shoulder, and I almost had a heart attack. I stumbled in a blind panic away from the wall, brushing and batting at myself and ended up on the floor, trying to see what it was that had gotten me.

A tail. My stupid cat hadn't moved in all this time, and had decided it would be hilarious to brush a bug-wigged-out-woman's shoulder with his feathery tail. OMG, this cat was asking for it! I needed to throw something at him, and I reached for a stuffed teddy-bear (the other side of the halfwall from my exercise room is a toy room for the kids) and was about to take aim, when again something huge and black came swooping in on me. Wholly crap! It was a wasp the size of Bermuda, and it was coming after ME!

I dropped the teddy-bear and made a run for it, swearing over my shoulder at my cat who just flicked his tail unconcernedly at me, and actually YAWNED.

This was not good. Ok... think... think.... The vacuum!

I went and hauled the vacuum down the stairs and plugged it in like I was on Mission Impossible. I didn't make a sound, and I kept glancing around expecting an attack at any minute! I managed to get the vacuum plugged in and uncoiled before the assault began in earnest. Suddenly, the wasp came darting in angrily at me, and bounced off the wall behind me when I ducked and he zoomed by.

I made a dive for the on switch, and then turned the nozzle in his direction in an attempt to ward off another pass. I missed twice, but finally I managed to trap the giant f-16 wasp in my vacuum (which has a clear canister, so I could see him buzzing angrily inside, and repeatedly hitting the plastic.) I then decided that what was good for the air-strike, was good for the ground support. Jeckle was right where I left him, and he joined his comrade in the plastic prison. Heckle really was a goner, but I felt it was a nice form of psychological torture to add his body to the chamber so the other two could contemplate their fates.

If there were any other troops, they clearly fled in fright, and I was able to finish my workout. But it didn't end there...Oh no, it did not!

It was at the end of my workout that I realized I was scratching at my side. It turns out that some time here, whether it was overnight or during my workout, the stealth fighters had been sent in. All told, I have five mosquito bites that I did NOT have when I went to bed last night. And worse, they're in odd places! I have one in each armpit, the small of my back, my left thigh, and the BOTTOM of my right foot!

Argh! Whatever!

I showered, and then went to take my daughter out to the bus. We were attacked by swarms of gnats, and spent the time waiting for the bus ducking and weaving out of the clouds of bugs. As soon as she was on the bus, I made a break for it back to the house.

I had to go on a short errand, so I hopped in the car. It's warm. I had the windows down. I was only about a block away driving down the road about 40 MPH, when something flew in my window and smacked me so HARD on the chest that I actually have a small bruise from it. Whatever it was fell in my lap. I looked down and saw the BIGGEST friggen' honey-bee I have ever seen in my life!

And do you know what it did? Through my capree jeans and all? The damn thing STUNG me. THROUGH DENIM! While I was traveling 40 MPH! I almost drove off the darn road! I managed to slam on the breaks, and open my car door. I flicked the thing off me, but of course it left the stinger in my jeans/leg. CRAP!!!

So, let me fast forward this one for you, in my husband's perspective. He walks into our bedroom, only to find me sitting in my underwear in a very flexible position, examining my upper inner right thigh, with a pair of tweezers clamped in my right hand. You have to give the man kudos, he only managed one or two inappropriate comments before asking me what was going on, and then laughing himself sick.

Luckily, I managed to get the rest of the stinger out, and I'm not allergic to bee stings. But, what the HECK is going on today??!?!?! I haven't even bought a can of raid in months! I don't deserve this! I mean, really - what are the odds here?!?!?! It's only 8:30AM... I may not survive the rest of the day!

I have to tell you, I feel more wiped out than if I had worked out for 6 hours straight. I wonder how many calories I burned?

I know my in-laws don't arrive until this evening, but at this rate, I may need a drink by noon!


Oh, and an update : Dh's interview went ok yesterday, but he didn't get a good read on the situation. I think it's likely we're staying here after all. And I mailed my tuition check this morning!

Compromise

Today I did not break or bruise anything during my workout! I'm very proud to report that, considering my week thus far! Of course, today was just cardio... So there was less opportunity to do so.

I also did not take a baseball bat to my weight machine. I have to tell you, this took a LOT of restraint on my part. The consensus is that it'll be a while before it's fixed again. So, now I'm in a corner with my workouts.

It was at that point of realization last night that I cornered my hubby, and said we have to figure something out. (Think he was scared?) I had to drop P90X because I couldn't count on him to get up on time and it was costing me my entire workout. However, my daughter will officially be out of school in the middle of June, and that was the primary thing that prevented my completion of my workouts.

So... My idea was that HE can make a freakin' effort for the next 20+ days or so to get his butt up on time and do his workout, so I can get my workout finished in time. Thereafter, if he's a little late, it won't make such an impact and I'll be able to finish, without having to stop and cater to the kids leaving, needing to make lunches, whatever.

I'm not exactly sure what convinced him... It might have been because I am allowing my in-laws to stay here this weekend without demanding a blood sacrifice. It could have been my fabulous cooking of a healthy lasagna earlier. Or, It could have been the wild, murderous look in my eye when he started to protest, and I snapped "20 DAMN DAYS! Is that really SO DAMN HARD!?!?"

Whatever the cause, he finally gave in, and committed to getting up on time for the next 20 days.

So, I will be RESTARTING P90X this weekend. I'm not exactly sure how to do it with the in-laws around (their bedroom is right next to the exercise room), but my husband made the brilliant observation that it might provide a much needed break from the "company", and he was willing to grant me just such a boon. I think he figures if I can work out some aggression AND be away from my in-laws, that we're talking a win-win situation here. Can't really disagree, I suppose...

Anyway, I'm looking forwards to trying this, AGAIN. Might even take regular progress photos. I remember reading a blog where the person took a daily photo while holding the number of the day of the plan, then compared a few now and then (like day 1 with day 40, etc).

Oh, one last thing. I have decided what to root for, as far as the college/Colorado situation goes. I'm rooting for Colorado. Tonight is Hubby's big interview, so cross your fingers! Whatever the outcome, though, I'm also sending in my tuition deposit today for the local college. I guess if it only costs me $200 and I end up moving to Colorado, hopefully I won't regret that too much. (Ok, but $200 to me is a LOT of money too. *sigh* this is hard.)

Strrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrike THREE!

I'm starting to seriously consider the possibility that the weight-lifting gods hate me.

For reference, here is an old photo I took last year of my gym. Wow, it looks a lot more spacious without the power tower and extra weights in it. Maybe I should rethink my exercise equipment addiction, it is so crammed in there, it's starting to spill over into the rest of the house...

Last night, I was informed that the weight machine was fixed - again - with a big grin and a "Third time's the charm honey!" (yeah, right.) So, I went to my exercise room at the crack of almost dawn this morning, naively excited that I'd be able to get in a real leg workout again. I laced up, warmed up, and hooked up to do leg presses. Everything looked good!

My cat, thinking we were back to our normal morning routine, settled on the halfwall and commenced pretending to ignore me, while waiting for the most inconvenient moment to pounce on top of me (although, I don't know if he'll ever be able to top the most recent dumbbell incident.) I should probably point out at OMG:30 AM it is excruciatingly quiet.

It's so quiet, that when I went to adjust the machine for presses and it started squealing while making ghastly crunching noises like someone breaking bones, that it actually ECHOED through the room as if someone had set off a bomb!

The cat fell backwards off his perch into my son's toy box, and with an even louder ear-piercing yowl, clawed his way out of the leggos, and went scrambling from the room. I literally jumped back and tripped over the edge of the platform, and slammed into the mirrored doors. Fortunately, I didn't break them. Unfortunately, as I was stumbling and trying to regain my footing, the doors slid open and I ended up falling backwards again, cracking into the cement crawl-space wall behind them.

Of course, all of this happened in a matter of seconds. Someone should have caught it on video, I probably could have won a million dollars.

At this point, I decided I should stay down (because it was safer) and contemplate my options. It was, however, not the easiest task to concentrate through the continuous squealing and crunching noises emanating from my weight machine. Not to mention the yowling I could hear coming from the other room, clearly my cat was traumatized.

I managed to crawl over to the machine and try hitting a couple buttons. Note to self: if a machine is freaking out, hitting buttons will only make things worse. Now, in addition to the squealing and bone crunching sounds, I had a new continuous beeping, the display flashing useless directions at me, and a strong desire to down a bottle of Advil.

It was at this point that I remembered the ELECTRICAL CORD. "...Hello, Kyra? Yeah, um, when something is electrical, it has a friggen POWER SOURCE!" (well, what can I say, it was early, I was desperate for a workout, likely suffering from shock, in pain, and I couldn't hardly think straight with the noise. I know, it's no excuse - and you all would have gone immediately for the cord. Bite me. ;) )

I yanked the plug out of the wall, and at first nothing changed. Then it slowly died in front of me. First the beeping stopped, then the squealing. When I thought it was safe, I took a step toward it, that's when it let out it's last horrid *CRUNCH*. At least I managed not to fall over this time.

Ever notice how much quieter it is AFTER a cacophony, than before it ever started? Of course, the ringing in my ears took a while to subside before I could actually make note of that fact. I stood there for a moment, with the cord in my hand trying to decide whether to kick it or scream. Instead, I straddled the bench in defeat, and contemplated my options for the day.

My cat poked his head timidly around the corner to glare at me as if it was all my fault. Apparently, he'll recover just fine.

I recovered enough to drop back onto the old standbys of weighted lunges and squats, leg raises, ab, hamstrings, and core work on the pilates reformer, and bicep curls. But I must confess, it was a depressing workout, and obviously not without it's casualties.

Somehow, in all of this, I managed to bruise my sternum. No, don't ask, because I have NO FRIGGEN IDEA how I managed that one, unless someone was performing CPR on me recently and I just can't recall... Wait, there was the day I was informed that the inlaws are going to be staying WITH us when they visit...

So here I sit. Battered. Bruised. Still tamping down on the desire to take a baseball bat to the machine.... And wondering if I'll be as stupidly optimistic when my husband tells me the machine is fixed AGAIN next time.

Probably!

Exercising Self-Value

I had a conversation last night with a bevy of Soccer-Moms. Because it was raining, my son and I actually sat and watched instead of kicking around a ball to each other (ok, it was so cold I thought it might snow too, so I had him bundled in a lawnchair under an umbrella.) We watched my daughter's team try to practice in what was fast becoming a huge pit of mud, which in the end I ended up playing in when they needed extras for the practice "scrimmage".

Hey, it's good for the complexion, right? I just wish I hadn't worn a pair of running shoes that have that great "breathing technology". I found out how wonderful they "breath" when I accidentally stepped into a giant pothole of water and mud. They don't breath, they SNORKEL.

Anyway, before I became the giant mud-monster of soccer, the soccer-moms were going on and on about exercise and dedication. One of them bragged how she made time last week to work out once, and how she was proud of that, and good thing too since she wasn't going to be able to exercise this week. The other moms all verbally patted her on the shoulder, and made comments to the effect of "wow, good job, I can't even do that!"

I didn't say anything until they started going on about how they have to get up at 6:30 in the morning and how hard that is. I quietly said "I got up at 4:30 this morning".

*shocked silence* Then, "why would you do that?"

"Oh, it's the normal time I get up. I work out then."

"what? WHY??"

"Oh, well, see I work out 6 days a week, but working out with the kids around and the rest of the hectic day is just impossible. So, I make time in the mornings."

"....6 days? All 6 days? Is this new?"

"Nope, been doing this for about 5 years now."

"but....but... WHY???" And before I could answer, she did a 180 and threw in an instant change of subject about the weather.

She didn't want to know. Not really. I suppose that is the feeling most people have. They don't want anything they might have to hear in their heads the next time they make a point to skip working out.

Still, I was thinking over her question of "why?" It's simple really. I find when I exercise I am able to have, and actually FEEL, self-value.

It's something I struggle a lot with. I think I have always felt that I don't have much value in this world, but I should. I should be doing something. Be something. Whatever. But whatever it is, I normally don't FEEL any self-value.

However, when I workout I somehow find that feeling. I feel like I have worth - not to others, but to myself. Maybe it just goes to something as simple as the fact that taking the time to exercise is making an investment in YOU. You don't invest in something without value. That must be why when I complete a workout I feel more like a real, whole person.

And THAT is why 6 days a week you will find me busting my butt at 5AM. It is something I can do everyday. How lucky is that?

Ok, onto other business - like my email bag! I have gotten three emails asking what the heck I am working on in my studio - or if I am working at ALL, since I'm an artist first and a personal trainer and exercise fanatic second, yet I never write about the art lately.

My answer? YES I AM WORKING! SHEESH! :) I'm just in "I shouldn't have started these" hell. Here is what is on my plate...er....easel this very moment (and as ALWAYS © All Artwork is Protected by Copyright. ) :

I am working on the second in my princess series. I may not have posted the completed first one, I can't remember, so this is the first in the series ("Sleeping Beauty" 20 x 20):

The second which is actually going to be Snow White, but it's in progress:

Then I am trying to FIX this one, changing the horizon line. Being true to nature didn't work in it, so now I'm exercising my artistic license (read that as "temper tantrum) to fix it:

I am also trying to complete a portrait commission, and it's driving me crazy. I have to restructure the entire painting. I'm trying not to have to toss the whole thing and start from scratch:

And lastly, the bane of myexistencee currently, my church trilogy:

These babies have sat around forEVER. I need to finish them and get them hung so they'll sell and I'll never have to freakin' see them again!

*ahem* yes, I know I have issues. Today, I'm currently going in between the portrait commission and the Snow White one. So, I have purple and blue paint all over me. I swear, it's a wonder any makes it on the canvas. Truly, I can't figure out HOW I get so covered in paint. It's not like I am painting with my toes! (Though, there was this one weekend that involved a bottle of tequila and a bowl of limes with some friends...)

Delayed Jubilation

I'm having a strange problem. You see, I just received my acceptance letter to the college I've been working so hard to get into, and I feel..... Nothing.

Cliff-notes backstory: We had been trying to get hubby a new job elsewhere for over a year. The #1 location would be back home in Colorado, preferably where we could live in the mountains. We went through interviews and even what we thought was going to be the job we took, only to have to turn it down (that was in NC). So, I said I have to DO something! I'm going crazy being home, and my last child starts school in the Fall. I love my art studio, but it isn't enough.

I have wanted to finish my bachelors for almost 10 years (it's a personal goal, I only have my associates in Fine Art now.) So, I started looking into colleges out here, all of which are so expensive I thought I was going to have to sell off my first born. But I did find one I could go to, and it even had the degree I had settled on (B.S. business/marketing.) AND hubby even applied to get his Masters at another school as well.

We discussed that my husband should pull his resume down, and tell all the recruiters he is out for at least the duration of us getting our degrees. We were only waiting until one of us was accepted. Once one of us was, we committed to being here until all was said and done with the schooling.

Then, out of the blue on Friday, we get a call. From COLORADO. Not from a recruiter, but the actual company, doing exactly what hubby wants to be doing - better than what he is now. A total step 100% in the right direction, and OMG in the right place too. We mapped it. We could live in the mountains, just like we wanted to. And they like him. The initial interview was a breeze, and the BIG interview with the head of the department is on Thursday. In my husband's industry, this is a BIG deal.

That was how I knew I was actually going to get into the college. I was worrying over not being accepted, and then that job call came in on Friday and I knew I was going to get in. Because Mr. Murphy has a personal vendetta against me.

So, today, when the big packet came it felt just like opening a piece of junkmail. I felt NOTHING. I'm truly disappointed in myself. I should be beside myself with excitement at the possibilities opening back up for me. I even spent lots time last week working out how I wanted my schedule and which classes to take to get it all completed in two years. Yet, I still feel nothing. Ok, maybe a slight twisting in my gut. Would that be less than nothing?

I never got to go to a big major university/college. I never got to do the whole submission and "ooo will I get in? When will I hear!??!" Now, I have finally gotten to do it, and I feel like I had the treat taken away from me at the last moment. And worst of all, it's almost like deepdown I expected it.

*sigh* maybe I'll feel better in the morning. Even my parents aren't excited for me. My mom put it simply : "That's really great honey, but I want you to move to Colorado."

Monday Mayhem

First, in response to the question about my last post - Yes, I really do have a nose ring (and a belly-ring too.) I usually just wear my tiny little diamond - but it doesn't show up well in the photo (excuse the photos, I took them this morning after I got home from a school play - darn rain and humidity is turning me into Curly-Sue!):

So, I put in my diamond flower (it's my favorite, and it drives the inlaws crazy) - which you can see much easier: ...and honestly, I'm bummed I didn't wear it to the school event this morning. I didn't realize the whole evil PTA would be there too, and I try to not pass up a chance to disturb the Stepford Wives! *sigh* Another missed opportunity, darnit!

Now, onto other stuff!

My hubby tried to fix my weight machine last night, which has broken down twice on me now (if I could lift it to throw it, I would at this point!) But, when I got up at 4:30 AM this morning to hit the weights thinking I was FINALLY going to have more options and I tried a bench press, it didn't do ANYTHING. *sigh* The poor cat, who was looking on while I vented, learned a few more creative "phrases" that he can use on the dog when we're not looking.

Still, I managed to pull off a nice and brutal workout, but I'm hitting the point where I desperately need my machine fixed... Or a spotter. I almost dropped one of the two 55 lbs dumbbells on my head today while doing flat bench presses when my cat jumped on top of me. (Yes, I know I can bench more than that - but when they're dumbbells and not a barbell, it's harder! K?) Maybe he thought he was going to help out, but having the wind knocked out of you by a 22 lbs cat while you are holding 110lbs above your head is NOT a good thing. Instead of dropping it on my head, I managed to miss (yay me!) and tweaked my shoulder setting it down instead (yeah, I know, I'm an idiot.)

My foot has been causing me more and more problems as well. After yesterday's workout, and subsequent errands, I started experiencing the spasms again in addition to it just hurting outright (because feeling like you are driving a nail through your heel isn't enough, apparently.) I'm getting closer and closer to biting the bullet on the custom orthotics, even though the whole $300 is out of pocket. I've done the PT, the anti-inflamitories, the stretching, the laying off activities that cause pain, etc. The ONLY thing that gave me any relief was the steroid shot in my heel, but it obviously didn't cure it, and you can only do it a couple of times. I'm running out of options. The orthotics are just SO expensive though!

However, another woman out here has PF as well, and she got the inserts and said it's cured the whole thing. She also then went on to say "well, I know why we have it, the doctor explained it to me. It's because we're so fat, and the weight is causing the problem."

You'll be very proud of me, I didn't throttle her. I just nodded and moved on. I know that she is at least 100 lbs over weight, and does nothing but sit on her butt all day everyday, and eat - without regret. She doesn't WANT to lose weight, and deliberately makes no effort - seriously. So that probably IS the reason she has the Planar Fasciitis now. *I*, on the otherhand, am not even out of my "healthy weight range" (ok, barely, but I'd have to gain a couple pounds more before they classify me as "over-weight"), AND I workout 6+ days a week, and it's probably the activities I engage in that set my PF off.

But still. Ouch. Probably just hurts worse because I know I need to drop about 20 lbs to be where I want to be. Why is it something like that can suddenly make me feel like I'm 220+ lbs again? I started wondering if I would fit through the door when I left.

Anyway, I was surfing websites about other alternatives for PF (I'm so screwed) and I found this little tidbit in relation to weight and PF - pay close attention to the end of it:

But our visitors often do not know they are overweight because they are comparing themselves to other Americans who are the heaviest people in the world. Here's a chart to check your weight. Calorie restriction experiments since the 1930's in many species have shown that for every excess dry ounce of food (28 grams, 120 calories) you eat, you lose one hour of your life and health. People who eat nutritious food and have a BMI of 19 live the longest and are often called "little old ladies".

I am currently a BMI of 24 on their chart. At a BMI of 19 I would have to be about 132 lbs. That is almost *40LBS* from where I am at now. And, if I recall, once you are into the 18's and less on the BMI you are considered UNDER weight. So here is a group advocating you come as close as possible to that.

You know what I would like to see? A BMI chart for people who workout and actually have MUSCLE MASS. Because I'll tell you something, when I was 150lbs, before I really started getting serious about the weight training and making strength gains, I didn't HAVE muscle tone. So, I may have been "smaller", but I don't think I was healthier. Even now with me swing-dancing with the 167-172 lbs mark, there is no mistaking that I have a lot of muscle. I'm strangely proud of that - I may not have much else, and hate my jean size, but I can SEE the muscles. Not as clearly as I want, don't misunderstand me - I KNOW I need to drop at least 20 lbs.

Ok, beyond that (and wow if you have made it this far into my disorganized ramble) - what do you all think about you losing 1 hour of your life for every 120 calories you eat in excess? Have you ever heard that before? I confess, that was a new one on me. I have heard the ones about cigarettes, and excess drinking - but never about 120 calories in excess costing you. Not the pounds you put on, not what you eat - but the simple excess, regardless of where it leads?

Kinda makes you rethink that extra scoop of cottage cheese, don't it? (I'd like to actually see some of the science behind it, though.)

Weightloss Freak Out

You would think after 13 years, a woman could grow out of the Prom-Crash-Diet urge. I'm sure you know what I am talking about. You are young and flaky, and suddenly you realize Prom (or Homecoming, or whatever else annoying, pompous event they could come up with to make us all feel like we were playing dress up so the uber-popular kids could pretend they ruled the world and vote themselves king and queen) was only two weeks away, and maybe you should just stop eating so you can fit into your dress!

It's not like it's an uncommon thought. Back in highschool I remember all sorts of girls passing out left and right because they hadn't eaten in a week or two, just so they could look "pretty" in their piles of pastel lace and ruffles. And do you think the other girls, watching the popular soon-to-be-stuck-up-queen-of-the-night crumple into an over-tanned, green-tinged rumpled heap in gym class had any doubts about their choice to starve themselves before the big event?

Nope, if anything, they were simply impressed by Barbie's dedication to the cause. At lunch, after she regained consciousness by the waving of a Snicker's bar under her nose in lieu of smelling salts, the girls would crowd around and say "Wow, so glad you are ok, but you look great! What are you doing exactly....?" (Ummm well, I don't know if I should share my secret... But *giggle* ok.... I eat 3 saltine crackers a day and 2 diet pepsi's! It's a miracle diet *giggle* *giggle* *snort* *giggle*)

It always made school a lot more interesting during those weeks leading up to a big formal event. Looking back, I realize I wasted a golden opportunity to start a betting pool on which plastic-molded Barbie doll would take a nose dive into the pavement next. But the truth is, I wasn't immune to the lure of the crash-diet either. Much as I scorned the morons, and secretly laughed myself sick when one actually went head first into her boyfriend's tray of chocolate pudding, I had the urge to follow in their footsteps.

Perhaps the only thing that held me back was knowing that while the Barbie-clones could crash diet for two weeks and lose enough weight to become gaunt enough to make Lindsay Lohan jealous, the girls like me would have had to do it for months on end to get the same results. OK, and yeah, since I actually paid attention to health-class for more than just the sex-ed portion, I knew it was a bad idea too... Deep down... REALLY deep down... *sigh*

I'm 31 years old. I'm officially one of those "old women" we used to be intimidated by when we were 16 and we got told off. I should be immune to this sort of pressure! ....But I'm not.

My in-laws are visiting in less than a week. To put it mildly, I don't have the best relationship with them. It's a very strange one, to be honest - with lots of different and complex facets of criticism. I'm not good enough on so many levels, it's hard to pick which one to try and fix before they get here (ok and there is a sadistic side which deliberately doesn't want to fix some of them - exhibit A: my nose ring.) The weight issue, as in mine, has been a sore spot with them/me for a long time.

When hubby and I were dating, there were mild comments. When I gained a ton of weight in Chicago, there were a LOT of comments. After I had slimed down a bit, but then just had my first child, there were some comments but more actions. For example, at a big family dinner they served everyone at the table, and when they brought me my plate it looked like it had been served for a two year old child compared to everyone else's plate. And no, I wasn't the only heavy person there, they themselves ARE. I was, however, the only person at the table who was nursing. When I finally got back down to my goal of 150 lbs (I'm 5'10 remember, this is a good weight) there were other comments. (hark! A hint I might never be good enough!) Of course, looking kick-ass in my jeans helped take the sting out of their comments.

Now that I am back to 170, fit just not lean, there are bound to be sly little comments as well. True, it's my own damn fault I haven't pulled myself together, since I found I could finally lose weight again right before the holidays last year. I can't explain why I am holding myself back. But just the same, this is where I am at now - and I am NOT looking forward to the visit, and ensuing comments, no matter how well placed and passive-aggressive they may be. And trust me, these people are pros!

There are so many benefits to still feeling like a 16 year old inside. This, however, is NOT one of them. Even though I am a grown woman and I know better (being a personal trainer and all kinda requires that you stop being an idiot about nutrition,) I still have the urge to just not eat until they get here. Of course, on the other hand, if I fast until they do get here, the alcohol will be that much more potent and might make the visit seem much more enjoyable!

No, I'm not going to fast. I know better. But maybe I'll buy myself one of those tiara's and wear it like it's normal the whole time they are here. That should be plenty distracting for them, and I can pretend I'm one of the Barbie-clones from highschool! Oooo I can even do the fake-royalty wave!!! Maybe get my kids to follow me around tossing rose petals...

So..... which one do you think I should go with:

Sugar And Spice

My son, who just happens to be a very active five year old, has a new obsession. In addition to building massive machines out of leggos, designing robots and cities, and racing Hot-Wheels everywhere, he has decided he wants to become a pastry chef when he grows up.

It all started when he caught part of an episode of the show Sugar Rush on the food network. He was completely entranced by the show, and then when he found out that people actually make a living at just making sweets all day he was ecstatic! He started pestering me to TiVo the show. I debated it, but the truth is he doesn't want to eat all the stuff they show, he really likes seeing all the new and different sweets he didn't know existed and seeing how they're made. I think the mechanics of it really fascinate him. And to be honest, he LOVES cooking. Whenever I have a cooking project it is him and I at the helm, my daughter bails on me everytime (along with hubby, she takes after him in SO many ways! I wonder if this means she'll never be able to do the laundry properly too?)

So, I recorded the show. But the kicker is, he wants us to watch it together. Yes, I know - a good mommy should do that. I watch the cartoons with him that he gets to watch a couple times a week, why not this show? This show that is packed from start to finish with cakes, ice cream, pastries, puddings..... Ok, maybe my son isn't triggered by those things on the television, but *I* am! The one show I saw had a giant chocolate cake on it, and I swear I was within inches of trying to dive through the screen.

So, here is my brilliant solution... I have decided to put the show on while I lift weights on Fridays. My workout room is separated from the family room in the basement by a half wall, so I can "watch it with him" while pumping iron at the same time. But I have to tell you, I have already done this once, and it is SO hard to focus on pull-ups, push-ups, etc while there is a chocolate cake the size of a Labrador on the big screen television!

And speaking of sweets, my daughter found these in the store and said her friends have these at their house. Apparently one of the mothers told the girls that it was HEALTHY. It has the claims right on the front, top right : 0g of trans fats, made with whole grains, cholesterol free, and a good source of calcium. That was apparently the reason they considered these COOKIES as HEALTHY.

Doesn't anyone remember that a half-truth is just as bad as a LIE? Never mind the 8g of fat, sugar, corn syrup, (and yes, it does have partially hydrogenated oils in it, it just must come right under the "legal claim amount" or something for transfats so they can lie about that too) - where exactly does this even come close to comparing with an apple? And the whole grains? Ahh yes, it was almost the LAST thing on the list of ingredients. I think "reading labels correctly" should be taught in school. Good grief.


Well, I'm off to my Sugar Rush workout this morning, it is Friday after all. Wish me luck, it looks like this one is about chocolate too *sob*. If I don't make it back alive.... Well....

I'm just hoping this is my last week of working out while exhausted. I've been suffering from TiVo-Anxiety, you see. Ever since TiVo chopped off the last 5 minutes of the season finale of Battlestar Gallactica (which I STILL haven't seen) months ago, I have been paranoid when it comes to these last shows. I was justified in the case of Grey's Anatomy this week, because it wouldn't have recorded the closer on Monday at ALL. So, instead of trusting in the little machine to get it right, I have instead been staying up to catch the shows I usually just play during my early morning workouts. I have to tell you, I think it's slowly killing me!

*yawn* Wish me luck!

Signs Of Spring

I forgot I wanted to share this with everyone. There is a Morgan Horse Farm out here, and on the way to my son's preschool on Wednesday, I saw all these horses and babies in this field right next to it. I hadn't ever seen so many, and so young all at once like that! Of course, I didn't have a camera!

Well, I lucked out yesterday. I took my camera on the off chance I would see them again, and there they were!

All told, there were 9 brand new colts. (They were all spread out, so I wasn't able to snap a photo of them all, not to mention I think people thought I was acting suspiciously taking photos out my car window....*ahem*)

I just thought it was neat.

What Would You Give?

Yes, a semi serious post. It was bound to happen eventually. I saw this study linked on Amy's blog. Here is the story/study:

Most would give up life, limb than be fat

NEW HAVEN, Conn., May 16 (UPI) -- Nearly half of the people responding to an online survey about obesity said they would rather give up a year of their life than be fat, says a U.S. study.

The study by the Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity at Yale University found the some 4,000 respondents also said they would rather walk away from their marriage, give up the possibility of having children, be depressed or become alcoholic rather than be obese.

Five percent said they'd rather lose a limb than get fat, while 4 percent said they'd rather be blind than be overweight.

"We were surprised by the sheer number of people who reported they would be willing to make major sacrifices to avoid being obese," said lead author Marlene Schwartz, associate director of the Rudd Center. "It drives home the message that weight bias is powerful and pervasive."

The study is published in the journal Obesity.

So, what do you all think of that?

What I find fascinating is that this is a U.S. study, meaning that if they did a true sampling of the population that means that +70% of the respondents are overweight/obese, or F-A-T already. So, really, you are asking people what they would give up to not stay/be that way.

It's very telling. I would have liked them to have gone further and ask "How MANY years of your life would you give up to not ever be fat?"

After all, aren't people already bargaining with their lives to not be fat? How many risky surgeries, deadly pills, etc are people attempting right now to not be "fat" anymore? People are desperate enough to do anything... Well, almost anything. The whole healthy diet and exercise routine seems to be the one thing they are NOT willing to do.

Is giving up a year of your life, your marriage, a limb, the ability to have children, etc - all in an effort to avoid choosing a healthy lifestyle, worth it to you?

It's really easy (and damned annoying) for a thin person who hasn't ever BEEN fat to spout off about giving up life rather than being fat. Nothing against that person, but I think they don't fully understand the reality of either situation. So, while they have a right to an opinion, they are basing it on someone else's "fact" and their own perceived version of how it would be.

But I am not one of those people. I've been there. This is me, being there. I was in my early 20's (hey, it's not THAT long ago! I'm only 31!) The last weight I saw before I stopped weighing in altogether and continued to spin out of control was 222 lbs. I know I got higher. At LEAST to 230 lbs, but I can't tell you for sure since I gave up on the scale. At 230 lbs I had a BMI of 34. That is OBESE. (Underweight = <18.5; weight =" 18.5-24.9;" overweight =" 25-29.9;" obesity =" BMI">

It wasn't hormones, it wasn't having children (I didn't have any yet), it wasn't an accident. I did it. I became obese all by myself. And I was MISERABLE. But here is the thing; I was not miserable because I was fat. Being fat was a symptom of how miserable I was. It was just the last visible component that others could see.

When you are fat it's easy to focus on it as being a reason that life sucks. But it isn't THE reason. Even then, I knew that. Yes, I was smiling in that photo - but you are looking at a person who is dying. I remember the very moment of that photo, and I really was dying inside and out. My life stunk so bad, that the weight was just a visual side effect of the whole situation. For a lot of people who go beyond the "just need to lose a couple pounds" point, it isn't about the weight - it's about their life.

So maybe the question isn't really about weight. Maybe when people hear it, deep down it's about something else. If someone had asked me that question back then, I think subliminally I would have heard not "what would you give up to not be fat" but "what would you give up to not be miserable?" Misery doesn't equal being fat, and being fat doesn't equal being miserable - but sometimes we confuse the issue, and the two become so blended it's hard to see them separately.

Back then, with the issues blended in my mind - I would have given up a lot of things. Pretty much anything, to change my life.

After thinking about it, and thinking through how I felt back then - I can understand the way the study results came in. When I saw it at first, I was shocked and disappointed in people. But, when you really look at it, and the likely condition of the majority of the respondents, it's probable that they are also reading more into the question than just a number on a scale or a bodyfat percentage.

Healthy Shopping

I just spent the last...Well it felt like 12 YEARS, in the grocery store. Why does it take SO long to buy stuff? It's like a mysterious vortex and it just sucks the time right out of your life. UGH!

Anyway, I stocked up on all sorts of fresh fruits and vegetables, per my usual. For me, it's as good as the candy isle, to stroll along the fresh foods aisles. Especially in the local store here that has a special corner of weird and untried things. That's for when I am feeling extra adventurous. Unfortunately, so far I'm at about four misses and one hit on it. My latest failure was the horned melon:


Folks, unless I picked out a bad one (which the grocer assured me I did not) - it tastes like it looks.

Really.

But hey, on the otherhand, I figure I can throw it at attackers and the like... Sort of an all natural throwing star!

Well, it was worth a shot. Regardless, I got a ton of grapes (my all time favorite), oranges, bananas, watermelon, apples, and a huge assortment of veggies. The checkout lady seemed very confused by the amount of fresh produce and the lack of frozen pizzas and other items. She even said "wow, you must be having a party"

....Huh?

"You know, you need to make fruit and vegetable trays for the guests and stuff."

Um... No. We (as in my family) actually all like to eat this stuff! Why is that so "weird"?

I suffered severe sticker shock (blamed on rising gas/transport prices) and internally railed about how it shouldn't cost $5 for a bunch of grapes and $.99 for a box of cookies!!!!!!! I made it home with all my loot, and then it took just as long to unpack and put it all away as it did to buy it in the first place. I think there was a time I used to like grocery shopping.... It must have been when I lived closer to the store.

Once I finally sat down, I realized HOW BAD my right foot is hurting me. I'm thinking the cortisone shot has worn off. I don't want to go back to the podiatrist. It costs way too much (which I clearly can't afford, look at what 5 bananas cost me!?!??!) and my insurance covers NOTHING. I didn't notice this much foot pain when I was following P90X. Granted I only got to do it for 2 weeks, but just the same... It looks like I am going to have to back off my interval training (running) again.

My weight machine still isn't fixed either, but the part showed up last night. So, I plan on cornering hubby and convincing him that there is nothing he wants to do more than to fix my machine. It's a super power I have, don't ask... ;)

So, hopefully I will be able to widen my options with the weights by Friday! Ok, off to get into the grapes!

Supplemental Life

Yesterday, my husband was laughing at me.

Yes, I know, not an uncommon occurrence considering my propensity for getting myself into trouble... But this time it was about how many pills I was choking down before my workout. I ignored him (ok, I rolled my eyes at him) and was walking away when he opened the cabinet to get HIS supplements and his creatine fell out and smacked his toe. (HA! I love karma!)

After howling and hopping around the kitchen for about two minutes (which I thoroughly enjoyed) he gasped out that we should probably find a single destination for our supplements instead of trying to cram them in with other things in the tiny cabinet we had been using.

The truth is, I remember when it was just a vitamin. One stupid bottle. All I had to do was remember to take my vitamin, and half the time I forgot that. Now look at the "basics" we have :

And I even deleted out the duplicates, "stupids" (i.e. I bought a bottle of thermogenX and then found out I couldn't try it because I'm a high risk for stroke etc because of my migraines - I don't know why I haven't thrown it out. I think it may be the aggravation on the money lost on it), and "I dunno yets" (I have a couple bottles of Dietech I got from walmart on clearance. It doesn't say anything that would indicate I can't take it, but I'm just wary of "diet-pills" in general. I can't explain why I bought them except that they were on massive clearance at $2.33 a bottle right next to the CLA - which I'm out of, and contemplating not buying anymore.)

That is DH's vitamin, I have a women's vitamin, which I only take depending on whether I opt for meal replacements during the day - if I do, I skip the vitamin since it SERIOUSLY ends up ODing me on everything (really people, if you use meal replacements check the stats. I found with my shake and my vitamin I was at about 900% my RDA just for vitamin A. Not a good thing.)

Anyway, I know each and every one has it's purpose. I know the L-tyrosine is the only thing helping my metabolism since the marathon freakout. I know that the glucosamine sulfate helps my joints amazingly, and reduces the pain I was/am experiencing. The green tea extract is an experiment since I OD'd on real green tea (brewed) right before I got the flu and I can't drink it anymore. The cayenne is an experiment too, but I like it so far. Makes me feel lovely and warm, which is RARE for me since I'm usually freezing. The BCAA's are helping with certain aspects of my goals/workouts, as is the glutamine, etc...

I know they all do something. But when you face a pile of pills (since some of them require you to take between 2-4 capsules) you start to doubt everything. I mean, this can't be right, can it? THIS is being healthy?

Somehow it just seems off. We don't get enough things of this through our natural food intake, even when eating correctly - so we have to supplement. I'm waiting for the day they put 3 course meals into a capsule just to make our lives faster and we don't have to swallow the broccoli and taste it.

I spent some time looking over everything - and the only things I don't really NEED are my two experiments, and those are fun and harmless. So, I had to come to terms with the reality that this is just the way things need to be for me to be my best. Now I just have to find a cabinet space for all the bottles...

Monday Giggles

I didn't create these, I don't know who did... But I'm posting them because Monday mornings should have something in them you can smile about!

Modern Technology

I admit, I'm a bit of a hick when it comes to technology. Oh, I wasn't always this way! I grew up with a father who always had to be on the cutting edge of everything.

We were the proud owners of the first microwave on the block! Everyone from up and down the street came over with something to "melt" and marvel at the modern invention. Of course, during this exhibition my brother was in the back of the room secretly plotting to stick a Pepsi can in it as soon as everyone's back was turned.

I was on the internet before there was one. I was 10 and we called it BBSing. We had a modem that was the size of a toaster that sat next to the computer that was the size of a desk, and a green screen monitor with a blinking cursor that apparently now has a staring role on the show Lost. Whenever you wanted to "log on" you arm wrestled the phone (attached to a CORD, and if it was the kitchen phone, the cord was about 6 miles long) into the modem, and dialed someone else's HOUSE where they kept a computer "server" to log onto, probably in their closet unbeknownst to their parents.

My dad even had one of those first cell-phones. It weighed about 100 lbs and was the size of a dictionary, with a massive antenna that resembled a lightning rod. I don't think my father ever went without a cell phone after that. The world soon followed. But I didn't...

I have adapted to the internet (obviously!) I have taken advantage of the opportunity it presents to forward my art and personal training. I have a microwave! I even have a LAPTOP! But I don't have a cellphone.

I haven't ever had a cellphone. It's an almost shameful admission in this day and age, isn't it? People gasp, and practically fall out of their chairs when they ask for a cell phone number and I cheerfully exclaim "Oh, I don't have one!" One woman actually said to me "Oh you poor thing! I don't know how you survive!"

Wow. I didn't know cellphones also doubled as pacemakers now. Though I have seen them take photos, play music, and I hear they even show TV shows on them now?

I just have never seen the point of always being "on-call" for everyone else. I have an answering machine. I'll get to it when I get to it, and the kids know where to reach me at all times. It's true, it would be nice to have one when I make the hour long drive (one way) to the store out here in the middle of nowhere, without any stores or gas stations along the way (much less street lamps. I live in the country, in New England, what can I say?)

Still... It seems my little rebellion may be coming to an end. If I am lucky and I get into the college I applied to, I will HAVE to have a cellphone. I'm dreading the day. (know any cheap plans out there?)

But it seems I have just leapt onto the cutting edge again! I may not have a cellphone, but check this out! Remember the Jetson's and how their phones worked?









Well, look at our new toy! (http://www.ojophone.com/ we have the cheaper one pictured here )



It works really well too. We have done the online webcam thing, and this blows that away. This works like a live video feed, no gaps, no hard to hear or see things. My ONLY complaint about it is that the colors are dull on the display - other than that! This is so neat! The kids are thrilled to be able to talk to their grandparents like this.

This is definitely the future - my only concern now is needing to be presentable (or dressed) JUST to answer the phone!

Now all I want is my flying gas-free car!

A New Beginning

In an effort to avoid having to kill my husband, I have had to give up P90X. It just wasn't working out. He wasn't getting up on time, choosing instead to hit the snooze button and workout when he actually decided to get around to it - and thus cutting my workouts in half, or messing them up entirely. It got to the point that I was literally having to get up at 3:15AM in order to follow P90X. After bawling my eyes out at 3AM and cussing long and colorful enough to make a sailor blush (I think I saw my cat stuff his paws in his ears in order to protect his innocence), I realize that I can't do it!

I'm a night-owl - a real natural night owl. *Whoot! Whoooooooot!* They say true night owls are rare, and that some people just think they are, but in my family it's genetic. I literally am just AWAKE until well after midnight (my preferred bedtime is about 2-3AM) and I WANT to sleep until about 10AM-noon. It's not insomnia, it's just the way I am programmed. I find that late at night is when I do most of my painting and creating. So, even though I have been getting up at 5AM to workout for the past 5 years, I can't fall asleep until late, and when I do it feels... Off... I can't explain it. It's like falling asleep in a room with all the lights on and the TV blaring - you feel cheated out of your quality sleep.

Maybe I'm secretly a vampire! Except I rely on chocolate for sustenance! Hmm... Could explain that mysterious break-in downtown where all the Reese's endcaps were vandalized...

Anyway, the 3AM routine almost killed me, and therefore almost killed hubby for making it a 3AM ordeal. In an effort to stay married and not end up with a new roommate named Big-Bubba-Bertha in a 9x5 cell, I bid farewell to P90X yesterday. Instead, I am going to revert back to a self-designed program (hey, it's a perk of being a personal trainer. I don't have to charge myself!) Yesterday I was resentful - but today I feel better about it.

I can also be stricter on the calories, because P90X is SO demanding for instant energy. So, here is the new plan. Until late July, follow my self-designed program, and try to drop about 20-30 lbs of Body Fat. I'm currently clocking in at 170 lbs and 24% BF. UGH! I'm looking at this as my start weight and stats. It's very depressing, so I took these photos yesterday just to assure myself that it's not ALL fat (you'll have to excuse them a bit - the mirror didn't work out well as you can see so I drafted my 7 yr old. These were the only ones that didn't come out aimed at the ceiling or with my head missing.) I feel like a bowl of jello, and it's disgusting. I'm 5'10.25 in height, and I'm aiming for a body mass reading of 145-155 lbs (not sure with all the muscle I added since I was last at that weight, but I believe that is reasonable) and a BF% of 19% or less (I'd love to be about 16%.)


After all of that, I plan on doing P90X at the end of July.






My husband should be through his cycle on it, and needing an interim program anyway, so it'll be all MINE! And hopefully I'll weigh less than a water buffalo when I start it and get better results anyway. Since I got my power tower, I'll be able to continue to work on the pull-ups and push-ups (I got push-up bars too, these are SO great for taking the stress out of your wrists, I highly recommend them!)

So, my hope is that I'll be better conditioned for the P90X pull-ups & push-up portions that I was lagging on. I could only pull off one unassisted pull-up before whimpering like a poodle. And my push-ups aren't that fabulous either *cringe*. I have high hopes, and now I have extra excuses to play with the Power Tower. I think this will all work out for the best. But, so help me, if hubby bails on P90X before the cycle is over, I may epilady him in his sleep.

Scale Wars

When I think of my scale, I think of the opening scene in one of the Star Wars movies where the giant ship is moving slowly across the screen. Instead of the ship, it's the side of my scale, slowly coming into view. Cold, menacing, with it's own theme song that sounds remarkably like the one from Jaws. I can even hear deep rhythmic breathing that sounds just like Darth Vader.... Unfortunately, it's ME contemplating stepping on the scale and trying not to have an emotional breakdown.

I have one of those modern scales; all glass, chrome and black digital read out that gives it the impression that not only is it going to give you your weight, AGE (because it must remind you of that every morning for it's calculations - personally, I think it's just being sadistic) and body fat%, but it also might be able to microwave a meal for four. This scale is clear, for the most part. So, when you step on it, you will literally be standing on a pane of glass. I don't know about you, but even when I was super thin I knew better than to put my entire body weight on a flat square-foot piece of glass! That was covered in shop class in the 6th grade, for crying out loud! Why does calling that piece of glass a "scale" make it suddenly ok to ignore the rules of safety? Back then it was about not breaking it and cutting yourself - this slab of glass is FAR more dangerous!

With one small step and pause, it can bring an entire self image to it's knees. It can change your vision! When you looked into the mirror before stepping on the scale, you saw an ok reflection looking back; Hmmm, looking just fine today. Abs look good, arms look tight, right on! You don't feel so bad... *stepping on the scale*

Digital read-out? I don't THINK SO!!! It's entirely possible that the display is actually a laser beam! It shoots directly into your corneas, warping them! With one bad read-out, suddenly you look back into the mirror and you don't HAVE abs anymore! Those look more like rolls of fat! What were you thinking? Tight arms??? They will be when you try to squeeze them into your blouse today! Wait... Are you actually expanding in front of your very eyes!?!?!! OMG! Step on the scale again to be sure! This can't be happening! You have visions running through your head of Tim Allen in The Santa Clause movie, where he stood on the scale and the numbers started running upward at an alarming speed right before his very eyes!

But your scale says the same thing it did before...
Wait.... What if it's just stuck?

This is where you try and grab something heavy enough to register on the scale, that isn't you, so you can "unstick" it. The blow dryer is too light... towels too... shoot... Ok, what if you JUST weigh your leg - that should unstick it, so you can try to "re-weigh fresh" without the old number popping back up like it's on redial. You stick your leg on it, and wait for the bogus read out. As soon as it zeros itself out again (while mentally arguing your leg can't possibly weigh 70 lbs), you hop back on....

And get a number that is 1/2 a pound HIGHER! This is when you start cussing at the scale. After you have exhausted your library of inappropriate things to call an inanimate object, you suddenly become a mathematical genius! How much does your hair weigh? You should be able to subtract that, right? And your chest.... You kinda like your chest. You wouldn't want to lose those, so hmmm... How much can you subtract for them?

Eventually, through advanced mathematics, a psychological negotiation and convincing yourself that your husband must have messed up the scale when he weighed in recently, you manage to extricate yourself from the bathroom and go on with your day. However, it doesn't end there! The image of the read-out on the scale will continue to haunt you now and then through your day, usually when something goes wrong. You know.... Your boss yells at you, the copier blows up and catches your one and only copy of the important report due in five minutes on fire, your children shave the dog, and you are inside mentally screaming about whatever went wrong - then you have to add that you weighed *** this morning! ARGH!

You even start to wonder if that scale is stalking you. Out of the corner of your eye, what was that? Did you just see glass and chrome? Maybe that thing really IS after you!!!!

It's the end of the day, you make it home and go and check the bathroom. The little traitor is right where you left him. You stand over him, looking down. You contemplate kicking him - what a horrible day he is responsible for. After all, isn't everything that went wrong the fault of what this stupid little piece of glass said this morning?

If that's the case, well - if you knew your days were going badly because of a coffee cup, you would throw it away, right? I should throw my scale away!!! The little maniacal piece of judgment should be 10 fathoms down in the ocean, that's where it really belongs! No more! I will not be subjected to this kind of judgment, torture, and abuse!

You grab the little monster off the floor and set him awkwardly in the trashcan. You look at yourself in the mirror, throw back your shoulders and hold your head high! Power to the people, baby!!! You are better than a scale!

The next morning, you are on your hands and knees digging him out of the trashcan. You hop on, and get a reading two pounds lower than yesterday. You shed a tear or two, hug the scale, and tell him you are sorry and you'll never treat him this way again. And the trashtruck pulls away once again without the scale inside.

The scale is a sinister thing, but the truth is - it's a tool. One of many to track your progress. So why is it that we put so much value in what it has to tell us? A recent study (ok, not that recent) came out saying that people SHOULD weigh in every day in order to 1) get to a healthy weight and 2) to keep it off.

I imagine that scale sales went through the roof at that point.

I have to say that I pretty much disagree with the idea of weighing yourself everyday. Most especially if you are trying to LOSE weight. I think if you are currently in the middle of trying to decrease your bodyfat, that stepping on the scale once a week is more than enough. Simply because progress is slow when you are going at weightloss in a healthy manner. We want instant results, and that just isn't going to happen.

Once you are at a healthy weight, I think you have to decide what sort of person you are, and how you relate to your scale. Does your scale sort of resemble your mother, with the ability to pass judgment and shatter your entire outlook for the day, or is it just the equivalent of the calculator on your desk and you really don't think much of it. If you are a calculator type and can use it as it was intended, I think weighing in every day or every other day, is probably beneficial for keeping you on target with your maintenance plan.

However, if you are like me, and you put far too much stock into what the little beady eyed (if it had eyes, they WOULD be beady, trust me, and it would have FANGS too) glass and chrome monster has to say - we may be better off parted from it. I'm working on that. If you are someone who managed to send your scale to Davy Jones's locker, you have my admiration. I'm not there yet. I can do the weighing once a week, but it's hard. It's like the scale has a magnetic pull on me, so I have to banish it to the darkest, most unreachable points in my house. I don't think I'll ever be able to free myself from it entirely.

But I hope I love it more next week! ;)