Thursday, February 25, 2010

Take that, Big Pat!

Gooood afternoon!

I have some pleasant news for you.

I went to the gym yesterday after work.

The end.

No, actually, I went to the gym and I got onto the dreaded scale of sadness. I've lost 3 pounds since Monday. I'm preeeetty sure that a normal human being can poop 3 pounds each day, but I could be wrong. 3 pounds is 3 pounds and that's less than I weighed on Monday, so that's all I needed to see. So, from there I exited the freezing cold locker room and predictably headed over to the lesbian elliptacle.  Without thinking about it, I climbed on one and began watching the Simpsons.  There was an older woman next to me, occupying the other one. I couldn't see what she watching, I would presume something about flowers or the show on channel 3 with the lady who shows elderly woman rip roaring arobics they can do from the comfort of a chair. Except that lady always used an antique wood chair for whatever reason. I never understood that.  She'd have ladies in the background, also sitting on wood chairs, with beehive hairdos, and velcro gym shoes. It was quite adorable. I mean, I get the point of it, but I never understood the wood antique, 18th century dinner chairs they'd all be lifting 1 pound weighs on. None of them were in good shape either. I think they all flocked to the nearest 'Mildred's Diner and Thimbles" and engorge on hot water and rhubarb pie or whatever old ladies in the 80's ate, after there hard work outs of sitting.

So I'm working out, about 4ish minutes into my work out, when who should arrive, but those damn lesbians. Uncle Beatrice and Big Pat...I had forgotten all about them until then! Uncle B actually had the nerve to come up to my machine, and even though I noticed what she did, she nonchalantly checked the time on my machine. I wish I could have seen the look on my face because I'm pretty sure it was funny. I got a little wide eyed in disbelief at what I just saw and just mouthed, "Get away lesbian...". 

I think the lesbians are starting to catch onto our secret rivalry.  I had my headphones on, but I swear on everything gay that I saw her give Big P a little chuckle, shot me a menacing lesbo stare, and then they headed over to the treadmills. Maybe I can send hate waves after all?

I felt so triumphant. I had won. I seriously wanted to hug that that lady next to me. She unknowningly had helped me defeat the lesbians after my month and half of anguish and reluctant patience of wanting to use my beloved machine. Thank you strange woman, thank you.

So, I pumped through it for 15 minutes, I went faster, and had it on a higher resistance level, so it was much more difficult.  Afterwards, I went onto the swinging elliptacle for another 10, at a higher resistance, and at a quicker pace. I didn't do any weight lifting or anything. I was extremely sore, and my legs were like numb jelly as I left. As I was leaving, I was thinking, or I may have said aloud to myself, either one, "How the HELL do those people on 'Biggest Loser' work out for 6 hours straight?" But it's no wonder though, those people lose like 40 pounds in a week! I WISH I could lose 40 pounds in a week. Oh how I wish.

My goal is to lose 15-20 pounds by March 28th, as Ben and I have a wedding in Springfield to go too. I would love to get a cute emerald green cocktail dress, (not that exact one, but close) I think it would compliment the black hair nicely. So, that's my goal as of now.


Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Jillian Michaels, you are so butch.

She is butch, but I want to be her. I hope she never reads my blog because she could totally kick my ass up and down the street and then do a few suicide runs afterwards. I always hated suicide runs so much. They are generally performed during sport practices. You start at one end of a basketball/volleyball court, run to the first line and back, run to mid-court and back, run to the end and back, with no breaks in between. I think it was the stop and go part that I hated. When you're running and you build up momentum, only to have to stop and go the opposite direction...maddening.

I bought Jillian's book entitled, "Making the Cut" a few weeks ago. It's an interesting read so far. She emphasizes that when you work out, you have to really work out. Weightlifting must be slow and concentrated, and cardio must be fast with high resistance. She explains that the theory, "Working out a slow pace burns more calories," is a long outdated myth, and the harder to push and work yourself, the quicker you will lose weight. Well, duh. But it is interesting. She breaks down how calories are lost, what foods make you retain water weight, what foods make you look bloated, how alcohol effects your body and why it makes you look 'puffy' and why you gain from it, etc...basically a book for women to answer all those nagging questions. It's given me insight on lots of areas that I've often wondered.

One thing that bothers me about her book though is the diet plan she puts you on. There are 3 different diet plans depending on your metabolism. I am a balanced oxidizer, meaning that I have medium metabolism. She even supplies you with a grocery list...that is 3 pages long. Yes, true story, 3 pages long, possibly 4, I'm not sure because it's not in front of me. So I'm glad I only spent $4.60 on this book because I was very put off by this. (By the way, this book is normally $22.00 dollars in stores, but due to some magic, I was able to buy a used one from some online book company that I assure you I will never find again. Since I was a first time buyer, I got free shipping, just to clarify why her book was so cheap. You won't find it anywhere else for a price like that, I just got lucky.)

The grocery lists are broken down into fine categories. Things such as beans, fruits, veggies, nuts, meats, seafood, etc. Really though Jillian? This is a $400.00 grocery list. Seriously. The seafood group aren't things like cans of tuna, but swordfish filets, Mahi Mahi, and Ursula from the Little Mermaid?...Things that are virtually impossible to find at normal grocery stores. I cannot travel thousands of miles under the sea to Atlantica or wherever that fatso lives to cut pieces of off her mystical cartoon tentacles' to follow my diet plan correctly. Come on Jillian. You know that would be suicide.

Ok, that was obviously made up, but octopus and swordfish were on the menu. I wouldn't know the first thing about preparing a swordfish, and especially an octopus? Seriously, I don't understand why people eat things like that. Would it bother you to just get a little Long John's once in a while? Man.

So even though Jillian has STRONGLY advised you do not skip ANY part of her book, and must follow it word for word, I am disobeying her and skipping through the 30 day diet plan. I figure this will seriously defeat the purpose of the book, but I am sorry, I am not going to drain my bank account on groceries that for 1) I have no room for, 2) Will most likely be pick through by my boyfriend before I get a chance to use them, 3) I 100%, absolutely do not have room for. I believe after viewing this list, that it is designed for yuppie soccer moms that have nothing else to do but sit at home and eat pink wafers, and drink lattes, and cook these recipes in pink polka dotted dress with a Chihuahua named Pierre in the front pouch of their pink frilly apron. I'm buying groceries for two, I live in a small apartment and am making minimum wage. Don't forget the utility bills and putting gas in my SUV. Please Jillian, please tell me how you expect me to buy all these things?

But, I digress. Getting back to what I was saying, I am skipping that portion of the book and moving on to the work outs. I did not get to the work outs last night though because I was trying to watch Wheel of Fortune, and Ben was listening to music on his laptop louder than normal for some reason. The cat was also sitting in the rocker next to the couch, and was just close enough to me to attack my arm with his talons a few dozen times for no apparent reason, so I was a little distracted last night. I could not figure out who I wanted to slap first, so I picked the cat since he was closer.

For dinner last night I ended up making melted Reuben's. I hate to say it, but I cannot find anything nutritiously good about those, and I was reminded again why I don't like sour kraut. It's like eating sour soggy lettuce that's been sitting at the bottom of your fridge soaking in vinegar and pee for two years. But the sandwich itself was tasty, and I did use fat free Swiss cheese. Big whoop though. I had a side dish of a very tiny know...that last little potato that nobody wanted, so they keep pulling it out and going, 'nah' and just sticking it back into the cabinet? I'm guilty of that. I've pulled something out of the fridge or cabinet before and put it back in hopes that maybe the cabinet will be hungry one day and eat it, and nobody will have to worry about it anymore. Or that one drunk person that stumbles in and blindly dips that last lonely hot dog into some whipped cream one night unknowingly, and you're like, "Yes, someone finally ate that last hot dog...God, that thing has been in there for like 3 months, I thought it would never go away." The mystery of why some people don't throw things away has been boggling scientists for centuries (not really I just made that up). They don't want to waste food, so they leave it sit for years. "Maybe next time Uncle Beatrice and Big Pat come over they will eat those rock hard cookies that have been haunting my cookie jar since October '05, they like cookies..." I kind of hope not though because you know where they'd go after they ate those cookies...ON MY ELLIPTACLE. God I hate them! But yeah, this potato was seriously the size of a golf ball. But I loved it all the same, putting my usual skim milk cottage cheese and pepper on top.

Today, I had a packet of oatmeal for breakfast, and for lunch, a veggie burger again, no condiments on whole wheat with some garlic rice. White rice is frowned upon, but I just can't get over the whole wheat rice's texture, it kind of reminds me of eating...wool or something. It's so chewy and uncomfortable in my mouth, I just don't like it.

For dinner, Ben is ironically making Mahi Mahi.

Bye for now.

Monday, February 22, 2010

The Origins of Me

Breakfast: Bowl of blueberry frosted mini wheat's with 1/2 cup skim milk.

Lunch: Veggie Burger on whole wheat toast. No condiments.

Snack: Quaker Oats Vanilla Crème rice snacks, and the usual broccoli, carrots, banana and apple (not all at once obviously), I usually munch on these things throughout my work day. Occasionally I will eat a Yoplait light yogurt around the end of the work day because my acid indigestion usually starts flaring up around 3:30 or so.

Dinner: Gordon's breaded filets, asparagas and mom's garlic rice that I have perfected.

It's become somewhat of an expected occurrence anymore. I tried taking the generic Prilosec OTC, the 14 day time frame, but unfortunately I saw no improvement. I guess it's not going to work if I'm still going to drink beer. I don't really understand it though. I only really drink on the weekends, I haven't been drinking so much during the week. Granite, I USED too. But now, it's more like 2 or 3 Select 55's to unwind from the work day, and that's maybe one day a week. Who am I kidding though, I like beer. There's no way to dance around it, I just like beer. I am 24 years old, I work full-time for a consulting office for a medical university, I spend most of the day arguing with Indians and Nigerians about things that the university puts them through. I am in bed every night at 10:00 pm, I wake up at 7:30. If I want to go home after work and unwind with a few beers, I find nothing wrong with that. I still live a normal, functioning and productive life regardless of my social drinking habits. I have not been hungover at work once in the year and 1 month I've worked here. 3 years ago, I'd agree with someone if they told me I was a borderline alcoholic, but I dug myself out of that deep, dark, endless hell with something to show for it. I don't think I went a day for a solid 3 years without having a drink (or a 6 pack) before bed, waking up pissed in the morning, and doing it all again that night. I guess that was my way of throwing it back in the world's face for throwing me through a few flaming hoops, but I was only hurting myself. Gaining weight, and getting unhealthy and then sitting and whining about it to everyone who didn't even care. I was done having a pity party for myself and finally decided, after many, many cute outfits and bathing suits that I'd passed up along the way, that I was DONE. Which is where my new habits and this blog came from.

I had always been thicker. I remembered when I was in 6th grade, I was always the bigger girl. The sight of a scale practically gave me a panic attack. It didn't help any that all of my friends were small enough to put in your front shirt pocket, and skinny enough to pick a lock, so of course I felt like an ogre. I felt like it was so unfair. Why was I like this when all these girls were petite and cute and trading boyfriends every other day? I was the girl that was at home, wearing wide leg jeans, playing video games, and not plucking my eyebrows that all those girls boyfriends' wanted to play basketball with. The image that I'd created for myself, and the way society made me feel, was not a pleasant one. After so long, I'd threw in the towel and gave up. I just accepted that this was who I was, and who'd I'd be forever, bushy eyebrows and all.

I dreaded the thought of going into high school. I figured I was going to be that one girl that everyone picked on and pointed at. However, much to my surprise, all that weight that I'd been literally carrying around since 4th grade and on started to quickly disappear. I don't even remember when I started to notice. Somewhere over that time, I'd tamed the bushy brows, discovered self tanner, my subtle acne vanished, and it was like I'd hatched from a cocoon. The only girls that picked on me were two juniors who I discovered later felt the need to pick on lots of the younger girls for no reason. They were the 'mean girls', except not pretty, and from my understanding, were drug addicts also. So it was obvious why they picked on everyone, they were just trying to take the focus off their own mistakes and flaws to make them feel a little more important in their own little screwed up worlds. That's ok. My sophomore year, one of the girls actually came up to me and apologized and said, "I have to give you credit, we gave you a lot of shit your freshman year and you never cared, truth is we actually thought you were very pretty and thought you had really cute hair, so I am sorry if we made you feel bad." Isn't that hilarious? All that trouble and pointless fun poking only to come up and take it all back. I was thankful of all the effort they wasted on trying to ruin my freshman year, it was quite flattering, yet pathetic too.

My sophomore year, I began running the track behind the high school at night. We'd moved into a temporary house behind it, so all I had to do was hop the fence and enjoy an crisp, summer night, running 2 miles on the rubber topped track. I did this maybe once or twice a week. The weight just fell off. Except I didn't know that yet. I was also very active during gym at school and actually participated in what we had to do. I remember we had to 'weigh in' one day during gym, and I was down to 119. That was the first time I'd gotten on a scale in I don't even know how long. I was confused, and happy. I thought about it the whole day. Who was this new person? Where'd my ogre go?

I'd had the image in my head for so very long that I was a hideous overweight creature, that when I did start losing weight, I still looked in the mirror and went 'ugh'. My non-existent love handles were huge to me, and don't even get me started on those thighs. I was in a size 5 jeans, buying small sized shirts, short shorts and tank tops, but in my mind, I was still a lard. My diet then consisted of a baloney and cheese sandwich and lemon chiffon Yoplait.

Now here I am, 7 years later, 17 keg parties, and a million beers later, frumpy and thick and now I'm saying to myself, 'Where'd the skinny go?'. The ogre is back now. Back to haunt me like the boogie man from my child hood. It never left me, it's always been there like a suppressed bad habit, using calories and as a way to bare it's ugly upon me once again. I hate this ogre. I need to put it back into seclusion again for good. It's now that I realize how beautiful I really looked back then. I do not mean that in a conceited way whatsoever. I'm talking inside and outside. One of my best friends, Nichole V, whom I met in cosmetology school my senior year told me recently, "When we were in class together, I always wanted to be you. Everything about you was perfect, and I envied you so much. Your body, your were so pretty." She'd obviously never told me that before until I was complaining to her that particular day about all the weight I've gained since we were in class together 5 years ago. I never knew she felt like that, but it was the nicest thing I've ever heard any of my friends say ever. I left her house that night, and just bawled the whole way home. What happen to me?

So that's where my story ends (and continues). I am done living that life. I'm sick of always thinking 'why me?'. Well because, you let it happen, that's why you. So, I've sucked up, gotten over it, and I'm doing something about it.

I went to the gym yesterday morning. I only managed 13 minutes on the swinging elliptical this time. I was pretty disappointed in myself, but the burning in my legs was just unbearable. I'm guessing it was because I was dehydrated from drinking the night before (not hungover, but dehydrated), and I tried desperately to push through it, but it didn't work out. I skipped the stair stepper since there was a woman vigorously power stepping on it the whole time I was there..."HOW DID SHE DO THIS?!!!!" I kept asking myself. A few times she wasn't even using hands! I couldn't help but stare. No hands on the satanic stair stepper? Impossible. But there she was, pounding away on that awful machine like she was trotting through a field of flowers. I'd envisioned myself doing it with no hands, tripping and tumbling down that machine like an acrobat show gone wrong. The plummet off of the last step, although only a foot and half down, would feel like an eternity, and I hit the floor with a deafening boom in slow motion. The gym would be full of curious onlookers, who would only continue to work out and stare and giggle while I lay helplessly at the foot of that hellion machine. To add insult to injury, the lesbians would be right behind me, since the elliptical are behind the stair stepper (coincidence?), and they would laugh and laugh, showering Skoal tobacco all over me. I hate those lesbians. I hate them a lot.

Realistically, that probably wouldn't happen, especially since I've never and won't ever NOT use my hands on that machine. It's too risky. The speed changes on it frequently depending on which setting you're using, so I can't see myself ever doing that for any reason. I assume that woman is a robot, I can't think of any other explanation than that.

After I went on the Elliptical, I lifted weights for about 20 minutes. I did sit ups on an inclined bench, used the crunchie machine, the row boat arm machine, and a leg lifter machine (sorry I do not know the technical names for any of these). I stretched out my legs by going on the lesbian elliptacle for 5 minutes afterwards before I left. So it wasn't as good of a work out as I anticipated, but it was still good. My whole body is sore today, and I think I used muscles that haven't been used in years! My stomach feels like I'm constantly doing a crunchie, and I love that feeling.

Well sorry for the long and winded post. I was just in a writing kind of a mood.

By the way, after work today I am going to the gym to sign up for the Biggest Loser contest they have going on right now. It starts March 8th ends June 7th (?), we do weekly weigh-ins, and whoever loses the most weight, gets a month free. Honestly, I really don't want to do it. Yes, I said don't. The reason being is because, as you know, I HATE scales. Weighing myself alone is enough of a challenge as it is, but weighing myself in front of a stranger (or more, not sure if they do it like the show, where you weigh in front of everyone). That would be humiliating for me. But, I am going to do it anyway. I can get through the humiliation. Plus I figure that will give me more incentive to push harder and get to my goal, which by the way, is 50 pounds.

"Skinny"                             "Ogre"

Friday, February 19, 2010

Tell them Large Marge sent ya!

So this morning, I was getting ready for work and was looking at some of my old shirts from a few years ago that I refuse to part with.  I always push through them as I'm looking for my one of two work shirts, and in my head just giving a long saddened sigh.  I don't get rid of them because I always thought that by some miracle when the fat fairy comes and makes me skinny over night, I'll be able to put them on again.  She would poke me with her magic bread stick, and *poof* I'd wake up 60 pounds lighter! I would hop out of bed like a 6 year old on Christmas morning, run to the mirror, let out a high pitched squeal of excitement and immediately run to the nearest store and go crazy.

But alas, no fat fairy with a bread stick wand ever comes my way.

Anyway, so as I was getting ready for work, I found an old green shirt that I've had for about 2 years. For awhile, it was a crumpled ball in the trunk of my leaky cavalier and I'd forgotten about it. From there, it was transported into a black plastic bag and had been sitting in my spare bedroom closet for quite some time before I came across one day. I washed it, and its been hanging in my closet for awhile. I believe I quit wearing it about a year ago because the weight was starting to promptly and inconveniently stuff itself into my midsection, so the shirt was sadly retired.  I reluctantly slipped it on with my favorite jeans, anticipating my usual reaction of "yep, I figured it would look like that, oh well"...but I was mistaken, and I couldn't believe it. It actually looked good! IT LOOKED GOOD! Feeling a little overzealous at this time, I slipped on my new black heels that Ben had helped me pick out too. I liked it. I even said outloud to myself, "I am pleasantly surprised."

So I believe now that my constant consumption of vegetables, salads and other various poop inducing foods have finally started to pay off. Not to mention that I even gave up my beloved Busch Light for Select 55. Regardless though, that does cut my beer calories in half on the weekends, which I'm sure helps out since I can't cut beer out of my diet, and by can't I mean won't ever. So do not try to make me, because I will not listen.

So what's on my agenda for this pleasantly warm (its about 34 out) mid-winter's eve?

Well after much time to think during my boring day at work, I decided that I am going to hunt for Pee Wee Herman, and have a beer with him. Maybe 3 depending on my mood. I figure my chances are pretty minimal and close to impossible, but dammit I'm going to try. Please don't try to lie to me, you know that you've had this same hankering since Pee Wee's Big Adventure and that's perfectly ok. I'm just going to do what every person in the world has been wanting to do for decades.

Off I go.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Thanks Uncle Beatrice

I went to the gym last night. I put on my shoes, threw on one of Ben's old Tee's, I rounded the corner out of the girls locker room, and happily strolled over towards the lesbian elliptical. However my happiness quickly turned into an angry punch in my gut when I realized that the lesbian elliptical was already being occupied by, you guessed it, the lesbian. She wasn't there when I walked in 3 minutes earlier. I swear she wasn't. But yet, there she was, armpit sweat the size of dinner plates, her frizzy 80's hair bouncing, gliding on this thing a good 30 miles an hour as if it was actually going to take her somewhere if she did it fast enough...where did she come from? So many questions. It wouldn't have made me that mad if her apparent lesbian lover "Big Pat" (or whatever interesting feminine name you would like to insert there) wasn't on the other one too.

I seriously stood there for a second, pretending to fiddle with my ipod, but I was secretly hating them. Just watching them for a few seconds while they yammered on like two truckers on a CB radio. I hate those lesbians. I wanted so badly to walk up and ask one of them if they were ever going to give anyone else a shot on there one of these days, but I thought better of it and went on the swinging elliptical instead.

Simpsons was on, so I plugged my headphones into the machine and pushed through the burn for a solid 23 minutes. I would glance over periodically at the lesbian duo, gleefully gliding on my beloved machines and just send them hate waves. Unfortunately, I do not think that they can receive hate waves, and much to my dismay, I cannot send them either.

Oh well.

Despite the ambiguously gay duo always raining on my parade, I was proud as I stepped off the machine I loathe. I felt that the swinging elliptical and I had just become friends. Not good friends though, the kind of friends that talk about each other behind each other's back, but friends nonetheless. From there I walked over to the satanic stair stepper, making sure to shoot daggers at the lesbians as I passed (who were still there, on the same machines, probably still chatting about that cute waitress they saw at the Iron Skillet), and climbed on for my usual 5 minute torture. No joke, I almost gave up after 2 minutes. 2 MINUTES! That's how much this machine sucks...but I know it works wonders, that's why I always find myself treading up those rotating stairs time and time again.

My arms and legs were very sore at this point from pushing myself to my limits on the swinging elliptical (which I didn't realize at the time was on a level 15 setting, which only increases the tension on the foot swings or whatever they are), which made me even happier. I burned a total of 220 calories during my gym experience yesterday. I burned off my leftover whole wheat spaghetti I had for lunch that day. Yay me! (Fist pump).

I went home and baked up some Gordon's grilled garlic fish filets with a mini baked potato with some low fat cottage cheese on it. The cottage cheese is my sour cream substitute, it's a little chunkier and, uh milkier? I guess, but I happen to love it and prefer it any day on my baked potato. Cottage cheese, lots of pepper, yum.

I also went tanning yesterday too. I am ITCHY!

K well, tootloo.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Blog Slacker


I forgot about this thing for awhile, huh?

Well lets see...I have still been sticking with my diet regimen. A lot of raw broccoli, bananas, carrots, cauliflower, salads, tuna, whole grain, grilled chicken, light yogurt, 90 calorie packs, and yes, occasionally I sneak in a turkey sandwich which a piece of American cheese. Or a quick nibble off one of the designated blocks of cheese I received as a Christmas gift from Ben's mom. We are storing them in the freezer as of now, but we take out one when we finish one. Right now it's the hickory smoked white cheddar...who wouldn't want to nibble that? I've caught Ben nibbling it too, so now it's a block of lightly nibbled cheese with various tooth carvings all over it. That's ok though. Cheese is cheese to me, regardless of whose teeth have sank into the hickory smoked goodness.


Anyways, I've noticed that when I go to the gym now that the work outs have become easier for me. Monday, Presidents Day, I took advantage of the fact that the Elliptical-Lesbian apparently didn't get a day off from her (I'm gonna go ahead and take a shot in the dark on this one) factory job as the butch forklift lady all the guys call 'Uncle Beatrice', so I hopped on the machine and surpassed my usual agonizing 8 minutes into 22 easy ones. It also helped that I found a Supernatural marathon on TNT, so I plugged my headphones into the machine and watched that. It's kind of sad, but finding something good on TV really helps take the focus off the timer. When I have my ipod on, I can hear the music, but I stare at the timer as each excruciating second flicks by while it laughs gleefully at my red, puffy, sad face.

I could've stayed on it for awhile, but I remembered I had 5 loads of laundry to do and a sink full of gross dishes that were calling my name, so I went on the stair stepped for 5 minutes afterwards. Even that evil, evil, satanic stair stepper wasn't too bad this time. I lifted some weights after that before I went on my way.

I have noticed a slight difference. My clothes are fitting a little more comfortably. I still can't seem to shake the bloat around my waste though. That's my extreme trouble area right now. That and my semi truck driver arms, and by that I don't mean, buff semi driver, more like a Larry the Cable guy semi driver, or rusty red pick up or whatever that idiot drives.

But all that matters is that I am still trying and I have stuck with this for over a month now, and that's a goal for me. I do have a confession though, on the weekends I do splurge a little...a little pizza here, a piece of crap there, but I'm only human and I enjoy going out to eat with my boyfriend, so sue me.

I am still drinking Select 55 too.

Bye for now. Ta ta.