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 hair...you 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"
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