Tag Archives: body image

You…Should Take the Segway….

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As far as earworms go, this is a decent one to have.  🙂

So in my quest to get outside of myself a little bit and try new things, I stumbled upon the opportunity to try out a Segway.

Wait…a what?

A Segway is basically an electric scooter – except it doesn’t have a seat.  You stand on this contraption and lean backward or forward to make it go or stop.  The thing is designed with computerized sensors and gyroscopes that somehow sense your motions and respond accordingly.

Which I read as “the computer will SMELL YOUR FEAR and laugh maniacally as it pitches you violently to the ground.”

The Segway whistles innocently as it searches for a place to bury the body.

It looks pretty menacing.  And, for the record, the dude who bought the company in 2010 was promptly thrown off a cliff by one of his products.  TRUE STORY BRO.

But, on the other hand, thousands of people ride these things every year.  I see Security zipping around the airport and the mall on Segways all the time.  And many major metropolitan areas have local tours, given while riding Segways.

So…how bad can it be?  If you can chuck a group of jet-lagged novices on these, and generally have a reasonable expectation that you’ll end the tour with the same number of people you started with, it’s gotta be somewhat safe…right?

I located a local Segway tour and signed myself and my son up.  (My daughter wasn’t all that interested.  Plus, this way, if my son and I perished in a terrible Segway fire, there’d be someone to inherit my jewelry.)

My son was mildly interested in trying the Segway. He was decidedly less interested in the tour itself, however.  (He’s 15.  Can you blame him?)  Most of the available tours feature historical sites – “historical” coming from the ancient Greek word meaning “boring crap your grandpa won’t shut up about” – so I decided to sign us up for the sculpture tour, instead.  I figured that was our best bet – buildings might not be all that exciting to a teenager, but an unusual sculpture might get at least a “blink and shrug.”  Or just a blink.  (Like I said, he’s 15.  I set my expectations accordingly.)

The day of our tour was hot – it was about 90.  (Which I actually love, because I’m always cold.  I recognize that pretty much everyone else is dying when it gets that hot, but I just stand outside and soak that shiz up.)  Because it was stupid hot, my son and I were the only two people signed up for the tour that day.  BONUS – undivided attention!

There are a few things you have to do before they’ll let you tool around on the Segway.  Those bad boys can zoom up to 12.5mph, so safety first, right?  You have to watch a safety video, put a helmet on, and…um…something else I think I missed because I was finishing level 432 on Candy Crush.  Then you can take off on the official tour.

But before they make you invest all that time in safety, they give you a quick trial on the thing, to make sure you aren’t a complete lost cause on the balance front.  (Which is nice, because generally, gravity hates me, and sometimes, when I’m trying something completely off the rails like, I dunno, WALKING, the ground jumps up completely at random to slap some sense into me.)

(Hmm. I wonder if someone called ahead and warned them about me.  Maybe that’s why no one else was on this tour.)

So I was introduced to my Segway.  Her name was Eunice.

SegwayEunice

After a quick primer, they had me hop on and try some quick maneuvers.

I got on, and enthusiastically leaned forward.

And promptly ran over the instructor’s foot.

My son was not amused.

You can HEAR the eyeroll....

You can HEAR the eyeroll.

My son is a natural athlete (with a KILLER arm, by the way #mombrag) so he was fearlessly flying around on the thing in no time.  Being a world-class klutz, I wasn’t quite as confident.  But, after a few minutes, I was deemed passable.  (Clearly, the bar was so low, I ran THAT over, too.  And I never fully got the hang of standing still, so every time we stopped for a quick explanation on a sculpture or sign, I sort of coasted back and forth.  Sometimes gently into a wall or a stop sign.  I’m sure I appeared mildly drunk.  I’m sure they’ve seen worse.  I mean, tourists.  Right?)

The tour was pretty cool.  I’ve lived in this city for nine years (!!) now, and saw a million things I’ve never seen before.

We crossed historic bridges:

SewgayBridgesegwayintocityexplored some of our city’s many bike trails:

segwaybiketrailand checked out some…art, I guess?

segwaysonspooncherryYeah…this is called, creatively and literally, “Spoonbridge and Cherry.”  Because it’s a bridge that’s a spoon, and there’s a cherry on the end.

SegwaySpoon

This is located in an 11-acre sculpture garden outside a local “modern art” museum.  Now, I don’t pretend to know anything about art – but some of the displays are…well….Last time I was there, they had a wall of salt and pepper shakers.  Like Hell’s Yard Sale.  Which I would have understood if they had CALLED it that, but it had some other lame name like “Modern Salt Shakers of the Century.”  And the time before THAT, there was a whole room dedicated to the variant shadings of cubism and graphite.  Which means SOMEONE DOODLED ON GRAPH PAPER WITH A PENCIL.

I will never understand art.

I tried, I really did.  I studied the sculpture for a moment, cocking my head and squinting intellectually.  Cupping my chin in my hand, I pondered aloud how the tonality of the structure might be modified if the artist had chosen to represent the cherry with, let’s say, an olive.  I remarked that the timbre would quickly shift from whimsical and insouciant to somewhat disillusioned, yet sophisticated.

Glare from my son.  “MOM.  No one eats olives with a spoon.”

(Actually, I do. At midnight.  When no one is looking.  But apparently, that’s still a secret.)

The rest of the tour passed without incident.  And by “without incident,” I mean that we had to take an off-road, unplanned detour down a pedestrians-only, bar-lined street, DURING HAPPY HOUR, due to road construction, and I crashed soundly and resolutely into a bridge.  Which caused the tour guide (YES, the one whose foot I flattened) to solidly rearend me, sandwiching me between himself, Eunice, and the wrought-iron guard rail.

Hil-freakin-larious.

In my son’s words: “Dude.  You were going straight, and you just didn’t TURN, and BOOM!”  Soooo descriptive.  And helpful.  I cannot WAIT until you get your permit, buster.

I suppose he may as well learn that I never go out with anything less than a bang.  <takes bow>

P.S.  Yes, that’s me in the pictures.  (Well not the maroon T-shirt; that’s my son, obviously.)  I’ve added and deleted these photos several times. I may delete them again after I hit “publish.”  Because I hate pictures of myself; I can’t look at one without scrutinizing what’s too big and too lumpy and too much and too everything.  And then I wasn’t going to point OUT that it was me, because that’s calling attention to the whole thing, which means you are totally going to go back and click on the pictures now.  Right?  But part of the reason I’m here is to deal with my food and body issues – and normal people wouldn’t think twice about posting what SHOULD be perfectly innocuous pictures of something fun they did, because it’s NOT about the size of my azzmatazz, but about the event, and if I hadn’t SAID anything, no one would even have THOUGHT to check out the width of my thighs.  So this whole paragraph is mental anxiety vomit about me TRYING TO BE NORMAL, which defeats the point entirely, but there ya go.  I get a Participation Trophy for showing up, right?  :-/ 😉

Losing Weight Is Hard. Because Math

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If you’ve ever embarked on a weight loss journey, you’ve probably encountered several  folks who have attempted to provide tips and advice.  I bet you’ve heard – or even uttered – some of these gems:

“Oh…just cut back on the carbs/fat/sugar.”

“Eat less processed food.  That’ll do the trick.”

“Walk for an hour a day.  The weight will fall right off.”

“Drink more water.”

“Lift weights!  That just melts the fat away!”

“Don’t eat after 8 PM – those calories stick right to ya.”

I’m going to tell you right now that most of these folks are well-meaning (OK, maybe just nosy) – but entirely unhelpful.  Because while these tips are certainly useful if you want to incorporate healthier habits, they won’t take anyone from obese to svelte.  And they certainly won’t take twenty pounds off any female.

If losing weight were as easy as taking a daily walk, we’d all be in shape.  Yet nearly 35% of Americans are obese.  Let that sink in a minute.  THIRTY-FIVE PERCENT of us aren’t merely overweight – we’re obese.  And if you’re between the ages of 40 and 59, that figure rises to nearly FORTY PERCENT.  40% of that age group is obese.

Because I like pictures, here’s where all the fat people live:

Courtesy of http://www.cdc.gov/obesity/data/prevalence-maps.html

<insert obvious joke about moving to West By-God Virginia so I can be the slimmest woman with the best – and most – teeth.  I’d be a freaking SUPERMODEL, yo.>

So now I’m going to tell you why losing weight is so dang hard.  And I’m talking about women – especially women over 40 – here.  (If you’re a dude, yes, I KNOW you can lose 5 pounds this week by replacing six of your french fries with a banana.  GO AWAY before I bite you.)

This actually came up in conversation this week while I was talking with my company’s CFO.  He mentioned his wife’s weight struggles, and his “helpful” suggestion of exercise.  (Fortunately for him, we have good dental insurance.)

Since he’s the CFO, I thought laying out the numbers might help him understand what women truly have to go through to make any noticeable dent in their weight.

We’re going to do some math here, folks.  Bear with me, though.  This is gold.

For my food and activity tracking, I like to use the free tool MyFitnessPal.  It has a huge database of foods and the calories they contain, and it syncs nicely with MapMyFitness, so my calories burned and calories eaten are all in the same place.

So let’s open up MyFitnessPal and see what it has to say.

I enter my age, my height, and my weight.  Next, I input my activity level.  I have a desk job, and a 45-minute commute, so I guess “sedentary” will cover it.

And my results….

To maintain my weight, I can eat 1450 calories a day.

<blink>

If you know anything about calories, you know that ain’t a lot.  I’m of pretty average height and pretty average build, and my daily caloric allowance to MAINTAIN my weight can be consumed in one moderate meal:

McDonald’s:  A Bacon Clubhouse Grilled Chicken sandwich (610), medium order of fries (340), and a small chocolate chip frappe (520).  (1470.  I didn’t even get any ketchup.)

Red Lobster:  a half-order of the Crab Linguini Alfredo (1030!! for half!!), a Cheddar Bay Biscuit (160), and a garden salad (70) with French dressing (180).  (1440.  I had to skip the drinks…I guess I could afford a lemon wedge in my water.)

These are not unreasonable meals.  I certainly know I can pack away a heckuva lot more in a day.  But by selecting one of these, I’ve spent my ENTIRE caloric allotment for the day IN ONE SITTING.  (And yes, I know there are better choices available.  The point here is that these are not inappropriately obnoxious plates of food, and if you’re not absolutely militant about knowing what you’re eating, the fat ninjas will jump you and tattoo themselves to your backside.)

Isn’t this FUN?!!  Let’s try going on a date.  How about:

Applebee’s:  Split an order of Spinach and Artichoke dip (980) and a Blue Ribbon brownie (1670).  Drink one light beer.  (Which is kinda pointless, right?  But that brings you to about 1430.)

Don Pablo’s:  Eat no more than eight tortilla chips (191 calories for 13) while waiting for your order.  Split an order of Buffalo Wings (752) and a plate of Chicken Cantina Nachos (1059).  Drink two Slenderitas.  (211 each.)  It’s not a very interesting date, but you munched 1445 calories while listening to him drone on about beating his mother on World of Warcraft.

That’s an entire day’s worth of calories right there, folks.  IN ONE DATE.

Depressed yet?  Because there’s more.

Let’s now shift our focus to actual weight loss.

Remember, to MAINTAIN my weight, I get to eat 1450 calories a day.  That means that if I want to LOSE, I actually have to eat less.

But how much less?   Well, we know you need a 3500-calorie deficit to lose a pound.  So, to lose a pound a week, we’d need to cut 500 calories a day.  (3500 / 7 = 500.)

<beep beep> Back up the truck here.  I get 1450 calories to MAINTAIN my weight.

1450 – 500 = 950. (Or a medium Chocolate Xtreme Blizzard at Dairy Queen.  BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS YO)

But wait a sec….we’ve all heard the guideline that you shouldn’t eat fewer than 1200 calories a day.  Frankly, it’s extremely difficult to get the recommended nutrition you need on 1200 calories – not to mention most of us get dangerously hangry and will bite your head clean off the clavicle.

Let’s be real – for most of us, a daily allowance of 950 calories is just not gonna happen, at least not on a regular, sustained basis.  You might be able to keep it up for a week or so, but eventually, your body will force you into survival by shoving you face-first into a deep dish pizza.  So let’s try to be somewhat moderate here.

1450 – 1200 = 250.  250 * 7 = 1750.  So by eating 1200 calories a day, I can expect to lose a half pound a week.

Yippee.

If I have five pounds to lose, that means I have to stick to 1200 calories a day, EVERY DAY, for TEN WEEKS.  (Two and a half months.  Pretty much an entire season.)

I don’t think I have to explain the level of discipline required to stick to this for ten weeks straight.

But let’s interject some real life here.

How many of us have gone into the weekend with steel resolve, only to be swayed by the mental chant of “I worked hard all week, I deserve a TREAT!” on Friday night or Saturday?

Because we’re being moderate, let’s allow ourselves a small indulgence.  How about, after resolutely following our diets for six days straight, we have a little Saturday treat? You know I like ice cream – let’s get a two-scoop sundae from Culver’s.

There goes 1040 calories of the 1750 deficit.  (And it was delicious.)

So now, I have a 710-calorie deficit for the week.  (1750 – 1040 = 710.)

Which means it will take me NEARLY FIVE WEEKS to lose ONE pound (3500 / 710 = 4.93) ….and to lose five pounds?  TWENTY-FOUR AND A HALF WEEKS.  (3500 * 5 / 710 = 24.65)

Yes, folks.  If I eat 1200 calories a day, with the SOLE exception of ONE two-scoop sundae cheat a week, it will take me SIX FREAKING @#($@#$ MONTHS to lose FIVE POUNDS.

Oh, wait, though – I can add exercise!  Ooh, that’s gotta help!  Right?

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a runner.  Four days a week, I have a not-insignificant run of 3.5 miles. And I’m not slogging along, either – I’m doing a 9.25 minute mile.

So…3 miles at a jog, with a quarter mile warm-up and cool-down walk. Let’s put that into MyFitnessPal.

303 calories.  (1 1/2 Pop Tarts.)

So if I manage to get out of bed and DO this four days a week, I’ll have burned off the equivalent of one pint of Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk.  (Which, according to the label, has 1200 calories and is designed to serve four people.  To which I say HAHAHAHAHAHA)

In other words – if I run four days a week, I can eat 1450 calories a day + one pint of ice cream and MAINTAIN my weight…or I can lose ONE pound in just under three weeks by eating 1450 calories a day and RUNNING FULL TILT four times a week.

Are you seeing how freaking ridiculous this is? 

And we haven’t even added any complicating factors.  Thyroid issues.  Hormones.  Water retention.  Leftover Happy Meal fries.  Muscle loss and the metabolism slowdown that comes with aging.  And the fact that the more weight you lose, the fewer calories your body needs.

Is it any wonder that so many of us struggle with our weight, and with food? 

So, fellas?  If a woman you care about is frustrated with her weight, don’t tell her to hit the gym.  Don’t remind her that ice cream is fattening.  And for the love of all that is holy and good, do NOT tell her that she is anything but absolutely beautiful.

Just tell her that you love her, no matter what.

And give her a hug from me while you’re at it.  Because I’m right there with ya, chica.

Sunshine on My Blog Page Makes Me Happy

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Anyone else remember that song?

When I think of John Denver, I either think of Sunshine on My Shoulders, or, peculiarly, Kermit the Frog.

I’m not entirely certain why my brain equates John Denver with the Muppets. I know he was featured on the Muppet Show a few times, and this was the early 70s (which where my formative years, NOT because anyone I knew was smoking anything suspect.  Then again, I was a kid; what did I know?)  Although John Denver appears to have had a full life and career outside Kermit’s world, it simply doesn’t exist in my brain.

Anyway…sunshine’s on my mind today.  Both Chelise at Caterpillar to Butterfly and Nikki at Undiagnosed Warrior nominated me for the Sunshine Blog Award (so I get TWO pretty things to hang on my wall!  And they’re ORANGE!  My fave!!!)

sunshine-blog-awardsunshine-awardDA RULES:

  • Thank the person who nominated you in a blog post
  • Answer the 11 questions set by the person who nominated you
  • Nominate 11 blogs to receive the award, and write them 11 new questions

So that means I have TWENTY-TWO QUESTIONS to answer.  Yowza.  This could take awhile….

What is the most important thing to you?   I probably am supposed to say something poignant and sentimental here about my kids and the hubs. 

Realistically, though, the longest item of focus in my life has been my weight. 

Wow…that’s kind of…pathetic, isn’t it.  (Not a question. A statement.)

But I guess if I’m being honest here, my weight is something I’ve kept a close eye on fairly consistently for…<does quick math> THIRTY-THREE-FOUR FREAKING YEARS. 

Yikes.  That’s kind of an eye-opener.

Seriously – I need to think about this for a bit.

Do I really want this to be my legacy? 

<shuts laptop and goes outside to mow lawn and contemplate meaning of life vs. weight loss>

OK.  I’m sweaty now, and have clippings stuck to my neck.  (There’s probably a fetish site for that. NOT GOOGLING.)  Burned 300+ calories, have well-manicured lawn, and am no closer to setting life goals.

Ah well, it’ll grow back and I can try again.  <shrugs>

<tucks into rest of post>

If you could go anywhere right now, where would it be?  Back to bed with my coffee.  Ahhhhh. 

As far as physical places go – I would love to take an Alaskan cruise, although I’m a bit iffy on the whole cold-weather thing.  I really want to spend time on the west coast – mountains AND ocean and ginormous trees, and lots of wine.  What could be better?  (Also will take recommendations….HINT HINT)

What’s your favorite thing about blogging?  Camaraderie.  I love my new invisible friends!  

What’s your favorite thing about yourself?  I crack myself up.  🙂

What has been your biggest challenge in life so far?  I think the hardest time in my life was my divorce.  It’s like breaking a Fabergé egg.  You have this thing (marriage) that you’ve worked up in your mind to be beautiful; to be treasured and protected – and you have to smash it on the ground and sweep up the pieces, reordering them into something that will never resemble the ideal ever again.  You and your kids WILL get to a point where things are OK…but it won’t be the Fabergé egg.  That no longer exists.

Whoa.  Deep. 

Do you believe in love at first sight?  Only with shoes. Everything else needs to be tried on and worked into the wardrobe, and sometimes, no matter how fabulous he appears to be on the rack, he just doesn’t work with your lifestyle.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?  Hopefully I’ll be a grandmother and taking FABULOUS vacations out west!  (No pressure, kids.  Even though I have fed and diapered you since birth, and have sacrificed <sob> SO MUCH for your happiness….)

How many languages do you speak?  What languages do you speak fluidly? English only.  Although I used to understand Spanish fairly well – I’ve worked in a few bilingual facilities; between that and four years of high school Spanish, I often only needed an interpreter one way.  (However, no amount of language training can prepare you to explain how an HSA works.  Heck, it’s nearly impossible in English.)

What do you think is your best post so far? Link it.  I’m picking two, because I’m a thug rebel like that.  Why I Hate Deer is one.  The other is a little darker but I needed to get it out of my head:  Frosting

What’s your favorite quote?  “The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” ~ Paulo Coelho

If you could recommend one fellow blogger for me to follow, who would it be and why?  Click on Problems With Infinity.  Quirky humor AND PICTURES.  LOVE.

Favorite vacation spot? Sadly, I have no idea, as I haven’t been on one in over ten years….

Favorite time of day?  Evening.  I’m not quite the night owl I used to be (thanks for NOTHING, societal norms) but I do my best thinking after 4 PM.  Or maybe I just LOOK good in comparison because by that time of day, everyone else’s battery is pretty much drained.  Ha.

Ocean or Lake?  Mountains. 🙂

Dogs or cats?  I’m a cat person. You can read about my eating-disordered cats HERE.

Favorite season?  Notwinter.  THAT TOTALLY COUNTS.  Fall = Football, Summer = Warm, Spring = Flowers and End of Winter.  All good, all not winter. 

Zodiac Sign? Both sides of my brain are firmly Gemini. So is the hubs. Makes life interesting, if you like seesaws and being randomly off-balance.

Exerciser or Couch Potato? Genetically, a couch potato.  I do exercise, but it’s always a chore.  It’s like brushing my teeth – I may never LOVE it, but I’ll DO it, because I don’t like what things look like when I don’t.

How long have you been blogging?  I started this blog 2/4/15.  It’s been six months and over 50 posts – wow, that adds up!

Camping or Hotel? This is much like asking, “buy new shoes or stab self with fish hooks?”  I love indoor plumbing.  I do NOT love schlepping 100+ pounds of crapola from house to forest in order to sleep outside when Man has invented PERFECTLY GOOD devices for this in sheltered areas. 

Nor do I relish the thought of hauling all the sweaty linens, dishes, and shelter, with freshly accumulated dirt and leaves, back home to have to clean and put away.  Seriously – hauling half a week’s worth of groceries kind of sucks.  You want me to carry my bed, my food, AND my roof around the wilderness?  Just thinking about that makes me too tired to actually go outside.  HOW IS THIS FUN? 

And there’s no WiFi.

I seriously think y’all who enjoy this are just pretending.  I simply cannot wrap my head around it. 

Favorite movie?  Again, I have two.  While I normally lack the attention span to sit through an entire movie (two hours?  Kill me) there are two that I’ll watch over and over and over again.

First:  The Incredibles.

blah blah

(Weird glitch isn't letting me caption this. Photo from http://movies.disney.com/the-incredibles)

So many gems in that one.  I seriously overuse “You got me monolouging” and “WHERE.  IS MY SUPERSUIT” and “Abort! Abort! There are children aboard!”  And I reference Bob’s opinion of incessant graduations ALL.THE.TIME.  Go HERE and read ALL the quotes.   It’s totally a scientific sociological specimen.  100%. Seriously.  WATCH THIS.  Now.

You also need to run out and go see Hitch.  BECAUSE IT’S HILARIOUS.

Photo from http://www.sonypictures.com/movies/hitch/

Every adult in the dating world needs to watch this – after you do, you’ll feel strangely better about the whole mess.  I promise.

This is another one with so many relatable quotes I can’t even.  “Don’t need no pizza.  They got plenty of food there.”  BEST QUOTE ON BAD DANCING EVER.

See?  Now you’re intrigued, aren’t ya.  GO WATCH IT. It’s on Netflix and it will TOTALLY brighten your day.  Like sunshine.

Passing the torch along to eleven bloggers who do a nice job of spreading light.  I won’t be offended if you don’t take this challenge on.  Just know that you brighten my day.

<barf>

  1. theGoodVader
  2. Happiness, Health, and Hypnosis
  3. sonofabeach96
  4. fattymccupcakes
  5. karmasarma
  6. Mermaid in a Mudslide
  7. This Little Diary
  8. Cat in the Cactus
  9. Remember the Good Stuff
  10. a funny thing happened when I was learning myself
  11. surviving the specter

YOUR QUESTIONS:

1. Describe to me, in detail, your favorite pizza.  (Bonus points if you can make it sound sultry.)

2.  Congratulations!  You just won a boat.  What do you name her?

3.  INTRUDER ALERT!  Someone’s breaking into your house!  What do you grab to fend him off? 

4.  What is your least favorite household chore?

5.  A stranger hands you $100 and one condition:  you have to spend it on something COMPLETELY frivolous, or a puppy dies.  What do you spend it on?

6.  Say something spiritual about doing laundry.

7.  What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten (on purpose?)

8.  What’s the oldest thing in your fridge right now?

9.  Describe your sleeping space. 

10. Thrill rides:  Yes or no, and why or why not?

11. What’s your favorite joke?

That oughta do it, for now. The sun is setting on this post.

<gong>

The Love/Hate Challenge! Part 3: Ride Away from the Fat Wagon

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So about…uh…two weeks ago, Chelise from Caterpillar to Butterfly nominated me for the Love/Hate Challenge:

lovehatechallengeDA RULES:

  1. List 10 things you LOVE
  2. List 10 things you HATE
  3. Nominate a few suckers to do the same

And this challenge has dragged on for awhile, partly because I procrastinate, partly because it’s summer, partly because I haven’t been traveling (so I haven’t been stuck in an airport with absolutely nothing to do but dodge creepers, germs, and crappy food), and partly because I can’t keep it short once I DO start. (Like here in this post I already have over 100 words and I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED ACTUALLY SAYING ANYTHING YET.  Man, I am exhausting.)

Part of the problem:  If I feel passionately enough about something to LOVE or HATE it, there is NO WAY I can explain that in less than a bound dissertation.  I mean, if you truly HATE something, how on earth do you adequately describe THAT in under 200 words?  Or under 500?  If it’s only one page, isn’t it more like “slight irritation”?

Anyway.  Taking another swing at the verbal piñata and makin’ it RAIN, baby….

10 THINGS I LOVE and 10 THINGS I HATE (in unranked order) – PART 3:

6a.  I hate butter.

I can hear the <whoosh> of people rushing to click “unfollow” now.  Yeah, I know.  It’s pretty much un-American to not like butter.  But hear me out.

It’s Oprah’s fault.

I was a fairly normal, butter-loving kid, who grew into a butter-eating teenager (well, when I was eating at all; at that point, if I remember correctly, I was in the middle of my 900-calories-a-day diet.  So I was quite aware of the calorie bomb that is butter – but I still ATE it, because sometimes ya gotta.)

It was November 15, 1988 when everything changed.  That was the fateful day that, despite a schedule chock-full of band, choir, AP classes, and boys, I just happened to be home from school, and just happened to be watching TV, when Oprah strutted out on stage with a black turtleneck, size 10 Calvin Klein jeans, and…this.

Anyone else remember this? (If your answer is “No, I wasn’t born yet” – shut it.  You can watch the clip HERE.)

As a teenager who, at the time, barely moved the big weight to the three-digit notch on the doctor’s scale (slam some water and wear boots and a sweater so the school nurse gets off your back, you know the drill) – this was life-altering.  I was HORRIFIED.  The Radio Flyer Lardcart was a GIANT DEATH WAGON OF BUTTER that, in addition to being un-heart-healthy and just plain nasty, WOULD MAKE ME FAT.

And ever since then?  Every stick of butter brings me right back to…

Mmmmm…don’t you want some TOAST right now?  <gag>

Looking back on this now – with the perspective and experience of twenty more years of dieting since then – some thoughts/observations:

1. Oprah lost the weight after four months on a liquid diet.  I seem to remember it was Medifast, but I can’t find a source to confirm.  What she DID share:

“I had literally starved myself for four months, not a morsel of food, to get into that pair of size 10 Calvin Klein jeans,” Winfrey recalls.  “Two hours after that show, I started eating to celebrate, of course, within two days those jeans no longer fit!”

1a.  It took you TWO days to grow out of those?  Color me impressed. I can bust a button in a week, but two days is ACHIEVEMENT, yo.  Not that Oprah is known for doing things halfway.  But still.  !!

2.  It’s a little mind-blowing to realize that you can be one of the wealthiest, most socially dominant women in the WORLD, with every resource and support available to you, and still not have whatever it takes to have a normal relationship with food.

That’s…powerful, yet humbling.  Depressing, yet oddly reassuring.  I mean, if SHE struggles with this…doesn’t that give me permission to, I dunno, maybe not beat myself up quite so hard if I can’t do it?

Folks, this is Oprah.  She can do ANYTHING.

And she’s just as human as the rest of us, putting on her pants (and Spanx) one mortal, flawed leg at a time.

I don’t know whether to high-five her, or give her a hug.

You can read Oprah’s Weight Loss Confession here.  It’s a little stilted, and I detect the faint smell of false bravado from her accounting of it all, but what struck me was this quote from her trainer (Bob Greene):

“She didn’t really learn how to be happy. I think she learned more survival tools and not how to be happy,” he says. “That’s where Oprah has a lot of work to do.”

Well.  Huh.

That’s why I started this whole blog dealio in the first place.

Because that’s where I have a lot of work to do, too.

3.  Size 10?  Are you kidding me, Calvin?  They’re AT MOST a 6, prolly a 4 nowadays.  Gotta love vanity sizing.  <eyeroll>

OK.  On to a “love”….

6b.  I love riding my bike.

Generally, I support the principle of physics that states, “An object on a comfortable sofa stays on a comfortable sofa.”  (Or starts to LOOK like the comfortable sofa.)  Suffice it to say I’ve never really been a fan of exercise.

But I’ve always loved to ride my bicycle.

My first bike was a hand-me-down from one of my cousins.  How it worked in our family was that you learned to ride on THIS bike:

schwinn

Note: Not actual bike. Pic borrowed from http://ratrodbikes.com where some dude named “dogdart” was selling it. But he’s in PA so it COULD HAVE BEEN MINE YO

…and then, on your 10th birthday, you got a 10-speed bike – NEW, from the little bike shop downtown, which incidentally was owned by the dad of a girl who rode my bus and sat next to me in band, and we weren’t really friends because she was popular and I was fat, so she was only my friend on the bus for the four years her parents forced her to play clarinet.  And her dad was also my parents’ tax accountant, and eventually he went to jail for tax fraud or something, and his daughter dated the high school football captain who ended up calling her a slut and breaking her heart, so I guess being popular isn’t all glitter and unicorns.

But I loved that bike.  It looked a lot like this one:

Photo from http://www.sweatershoppe.com/

Also not actual bike. Original is currently mummified in my parents’ basement. Photo borrowed from http://www.sweatershoppe.com/

That bike was my ticket to freedom.  It was my getaway car – I’d hop on that thing and be off on an adventure.  It wasn’t unusual for me to take off for four, five hours at a time, just riding along, stopping to pick wild blackberries on the side of the road or catch crawfish at the creek.

Later, when I got a speedometer, I got to see how far – and how fast – I could go.   I grew up in PA, which is very hilly – those gears came in handy, and the payoff was zooming downhill, at 30mph.  (Without a helmet.  Between that, riding in the back of the station wagon without seat belts, and sleeping in death-trap cribs, how did anyone survive childhood in the 70s and 80s?  Never mind roadside pesticide blackberries, copperheads under the rocks at the creek, and generalized Stranger Danger.)

Once I got to high school, I quit riding so much.  But years later – after college, marriage, two kids, and a painful divorce – I got a gift:

Actual photo. You can tell by the craptacular background.

Actual photo. You can tell by the sucktacular composition and the general lack of housekeeping.

It was another hand-me-down bike…but it was in pristine condition, purchased by a friend who had more money than ambition (she also smoked a lot and drank a lot – while I don’t judge, I suspect this hindered her desire to hop on a bike.)

I didn’t use the bike much at first; it sat largely unused for several years.  But recently, I’ve rediscovered the sorts of things you can explore while you’re escaping from the world for awhile:

Lake1

At the top of a hill in rural Wisconsin. A REALLY BIG HILL. #worthit

bikeflowers.

Like a little firework burst.

bikeflowers2

I love these. They’re like little snowballs. IN SUMMER.

swans

Tucked behind a small bend.

On a bike, you’re not focused on exercising.  The goal isn’t necessarily to burn calories.  (Yeah, I track them.  When an hour of hard riding burns off like four Oreos, you take credit every calorie you can get.)

When you’re standing on the pedals to kick a hill’s butt – when you’re flying down the other side, drinking in the thrill of the speed and the relief of the breeze – when you’re taking in, free of charge, all that nature has to offer – you’re not worried about the size of your thighs and the bulges around your waist.  You aren’t beating yourself up over the amount of space you occupy.

You can just…be.

You’re free.   At least for a little while.

Even if it’s temporary – even if life keeps me tethered to a lot of heavy, messy, cumbersome things –  I’m so very thankful that I can remember what it feels like to fly.

Six down, four to go.  Light.  Tunnel.  ONWARD!

Today’s victim select recipient is Mermaid in a Mudslide – she has such a variety of topics, I suspect she’d be all over something like this.  Plus, her posts make me smile.  🙂

The Liebster Award! a.k.a. Cube Cat, Aliens, and Grammatically Correct Memes

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I am embarrassingly late in responding to this generous nomination from Chris at Surviving the Specter.  Which is actually OK, as I am never on time for anything.  If I’m ever on time, or early, please assume what you are seeing is an alien apparition of me, and blast me to confetti with lasers.  For the planet.

Anyhoo….the award.  Chris was kind enough to link to some history behind this, so I’m stealing that to share, too.  GO TO HERE FOR HISTORY KTHX

liebsterpicSo, like all awards, this one has some rules, too:

liebsterpic_001OK, if we’ve met…that is too many rules.  And I get to the middle of #2 before I suddenly remember it’s been a REALLY long time since I made pie, and speaking of pie, my cat is so fat that he’s no longer round…he’s…a box.  I know cats like to SIT in boxes, but…WHOA MY CAT IS MAGICAL AND MORPHED INTO A SIZE 14 NIKE AIR BOX

OllieboxAdmittedly, without the swoosh.  Seriously, though, the dude needs backup lights.  I’m a terrible cat momma.

<slap> Focus.  RULES!

OK…did #1 already.  Here are Chris’s questions for me:

1.   In what state and/or country do you live (if outside the U.S.)?  I commute daily between the state of Confusion and the state of Denial.  Geographically, I grew up in PA, but nine years ago, moved here:

stay-for-the-car

 AND EVERY JANUARY I QUESTION MY SANITY.  <sigh>

2.   What is your favorite genre of music and THE band that goes with it?
OK, there is NO WAY I can pick just one.  What I like depends on the barometric pressure, the moon phase, and how much I weigh today. 

When I sing (did I mention I’m in a band?) I love ballads and good, throaty jazz.  On the radio I love P!nk and Ed Sheeran – I totally want to fix up my daughter with him, so they can have a flock of adorable redheaded baby girls and start a traveling quintet.  (She’s seventeen; it’s almost legal.  I just want what’s best for me her, ya know?)

3.   What is a life quote of yours?  I posted about this before – it’s also my favorite shirt:

shirtfront4.   Where do you find solace?  Like that corny Johnny Lee song, I look for it in all the wrong places – at the bottom of a giant bag of popcorn, inside a cereal box, in the arms of Ben and Jerry.  I don’t ever FIND it there (you’d think I’d learn to look somewhere else first….)

Where I actually FIND it varies.  In nature, it’s around water, or around giant rocks.  Sometimes it’s at the end of a run, hike, or a bike ride.  Sometimes it’s on the clearance rack at the shoe store.  Oh – and in butterflies.  Seeing a butterfly makes me feel peaceful.  I have convinced myself that butterflies are spirits coming to check on me to make sure I’m doing OK. (Sorry, Grandma, for bouncing you off my windshield the other day.  Love you.)

5.   What are three triggers you have?  Well, if I’m in *that* mood, I can make anything a trigger.  But through therapy (and wild guesses) I have identified some common triggers that make me feel fat AND give me an insatiable desire for ice cream, popcorn, and an entire jar of peanut butter:

  • Feeling irrelevant among my loved ones (especially the kids when they don’t “need” me.) 
  • Feeling self-conscious or un-confident. 
  • Any of HALT:  Getting too hungry, angry, lonely, or tired.  Or hormonal.  But that ruins the cool acronym.  THALH?  HALT-H? (uh, no, that sounds like a hemorrhoid cream.  Let’s just stick to HALT and assume hormones are in the mix.)

6.   Insert your favorite meme in the space below- Well, it’s NOT the one above.  That one just makes me sad.  And cold.  I like this one better:

helltoupee(Note that I got the little booger thing over the E there.  I keep it classy, yo.)

7.   What is a coping mechanism you use to combat your mental situation? I do my best to take care of myself – getting regular exercise and adequate sleep (or trying; some nights it’s more like “well, just lie here and rest….SHUT UP, BRAIN, your ONLY JOB for the next seven hours is to BREATHE.”  Suffice it to say it doesn’t always work.  OK, it hardly ever works.) 

I also try to remind myself that it’s cyclical; I know Sunday nights will be bad, as will every 4th or 5th week.  I just keep repeating to myself, “In a few days, this will be better….” over and over again.  I really should write myself some Post-It notes or something, right?

Oh, and I swear.  A lot.  Violently, rapidly, and voraciously.  F#@% YEAH!

8.   When you sit down to write a blog post, where does your inspiration come from?  Alien probes, subliminal messages from the government, pesticides, and high fructose corn syrup.  Or the hubs, my Facebook feed, funky shoes, and my cats.  (I’m not anywhere near as deep as a Pennsylvania pothole.)

9.   Right here, right now, say something to the person who has hurt you the most, beginning with, “I promise to…”  I promise to not junk-punch you if I ever see you again.  Mentally (as I mentioned elsewhere today) I’ll be dumping week-old clam chowder on your head, but I promise to appear to be cordial.  You KNOW that’s generous; I suggest you take it and back away slowly.

10. What one regret do you hold onto that you wish you could let go of?  I sincerely wish I had been kinder to my college boyfriend. 

He was my first relationship after a badly broken heart, and I used the relationship with him to play out all my anger, anxieties, and frustrations of the prior one.  I relentlessly messed with his head and repeatedly broke his heart – simply because my former boyfriend had broken mine.  Essentially, I used the poor guy to get my revenge on my prior love.  I know it was a crappy thing to do, but I was far too broken myself to recognize it. 

So Dean, if you’re out there, I’m sorry – you were a decent fellow who always deserved so much better. 

11. What’s the most valuable piece of advice someone has given to you?  “You miss all the shots you don’t take.”  Apply for that job, ask that guy out, bid on the shoes!  The answer is always NO unless and until you ask!  

OK, so now I have to list some folks to take on my questions list.  I’m sure you’ll find this stimulating and thought-provoking.  <snort>

  1. What is your favorite shoe?  (If you can’t answer this, we cannot be friends.)
  2. You won a million dollars.  What random gift would you send me?  (Wine is never the wrong answer)
  3. If you were going to go to a deserted island, and could only take three things, WHY WOULD YOU GO IN THE FIRST PLACE?
  4. What’s the scariest thing on your bucket list – and when are you doing it?
  5. What movie, song, or comic book hero most closely represents YOU/your life?
  6. What did you want to be when you grew up?
  7. You have to give up one of your five senses.  Which do you sacrifice and why?
  8. You have a seven-week sabbatical from work – paid time off.  Whatcha gonna do?
  9. What skill do you wish you had?
  10. What do you find most intimidating?  Most motivating?
  11. Do you believe in ghosts, spirits, the afterlife?  Why or why not?

NOMINEES:

whereshappy

tatisgalaxy

sinsandsecrets

peaceof8

8 + 3 = 11 so I think we’re all done here.  School of Close Enough gives me a B+, so…peace out, y’all.  🙂

The Unproductive Habits of Food Disordered People

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We all have bad habits.  Right?

I have a lifelong habit of biting my nails.  Lest you think I’m a freak – only fingernails, and only my own.  And more specifically, I’m really just chewing off ragged cuticles and evening out chips.

But still, I know it’s kinda gross.  It’s unsanitary (dude, hands touch EVERYTHING.)  Plus, I had braces not once, but TWICE as a kid – and I’m sure the gnawing and chipping does nothing for proper tooth alignment.  And, most importantly, try as I might, I can’t seem to find nutritional information for fingernails.  (Most likely because I haven’t looked.  Because if I look, I might find out that fingernails actually HAVE calories. And if this is true, I’ll have to log it on my food tracker.  And heaven knows I don’t need one more thing to obsess over in the eating department.  I can totally see me looking at my hands at day’s end, going, “I bit off FOUR nails today!” and proceeding to run maniacally around the block and frantically doing 50 jumping jacks to burn it off.  Or saying “eff it” and diving headfirst into a bag of popcorn and hating both myself and the fat sad sack I have become.  Yeah, probably the latter, since it’s bikini season.)

The hubs has noticed.  He knows better than to complain about it (Obviously, I bite.)  But one day, we were wandering through a drugstore, and he hands me something and says, “Look, honey – snack chips!”

snackchips

Har dee har har.  <eyeroll>

Part of the problem was that my nails just wouldn’t grow all that much before they made like fashion denim and ripped, chipped, and tore.  Once you have an uneven nail, or a ripped cuticle, you sort of have to address it, right?  I mean, it’s like having your slip showing, except on your hands, and it’s a ratty, tatted slip that really SHOULD have gone in the garbage, but you forgot (read: fell asleep in front of the TV) to do laundry, so….Easiest answer is to bite it off. <snap> <ptoo>

Over the years, I’ve made several attempts at ending the phalangical feast.  And I am proud to say I am doing better:

growingback See that ONE ragged cuticle there?  I DIDN’T BITE IT OFF.   yet  GO ME!

(On a side note – I had some stomach/malabsorption issues a few years ago; I was pretty low on a lot of vitamins, iron, etc.  After over a year of testing, poking, prodding, and biopsying, my doctor threw up her hands and said “Try giving up wheat.”  And after about six months of a wheat-free diet, the above pic is how much the whites of my nails have grown in about eight days.  So, while medically, I very clearly didn’t have celiac….something was glitched up in glutenville.)

As I work toward recovery for a lifetime of food issues, I have come to realize that I have a ton of really unproductive food habits.  I’m going to list them here – one, for self-awareness; two, to hold myself accountable…to some of them, anyway.  (I’m not freaking Mother Teresa – give me a C for effort here.)

1.  Eating in front of a screen.  Yes, I know what all the studies say – if you eat while you’re doing something else, you won’t “notice” your level of satiety.  But, darn it, I LIKE entertaining my mouth when my brain is pigging out on the televised version of junk food.

Plus, during the week, I eat my lunch while I’m working – I can get out of the office a little sooner that way.  Since I often have to work until 7, every minute of daylight counts.  So, in the spirit of full disclosure, I won’t be working too hard on this one.

However…when we bought our house, we actually built an addition on it to make sure we had ROOM for a dining table.  The construction loan’s paid off, so maybe I should use the space for more than storing Kohl’s coupons and scrapbooking supplies.

I don’t cook every evening, but on the evenings I DO make dinner, I’m sure it wouldn’t kill me to sit at an actual table with the hubs and eat, undistracted, and chat about our day.  Heck, it might even nourish our marriage a bit.

So how about I shoot for two dinners a week at the table?

2.  Eating out of a giant bag.  Curse you, Costco, and your ginormous sacks of salty and sweet munchable deliciousness.  Some of your snacks are packaged in such a way that one bag has- wait, lemme look….

ZOMG

TWENTY-TWO SERVINGS.

WHAT.

HOW IS THIS EVEN LEGAL.  Didn’t Obama pass something addressing this with the Affordable Care Act?  I mean these suckers are larger than most airlines allow for a carryon (and NO, I will NOT be checking my popcorn, thankyouverymuch.)

Give me a standard, grocery-store bag of popcorn, and I can EASILY chomp my way through it in a single sitting.  NOT EVEN A CHALLENGE.  Chip clips are for QUITTERS, yo! This means I can do some SERIOUS damage on Costco’s monster face-troughs that I swear I am NOT BUYING THIS TIME but somehow inexplicably make it into my house anyway.

While I haven’t plowed through an entire bag in one sitting yet, I can certainly polish it off in two sessions, and I think the only reason I HAVEN’T finished one in one swoop is because I’m mortified that I actually COULD.  (Plus, here’s what happens when I get dangerously close to doing so.)

So what I’m trying to do is not sit down with one of these things, because that’d be like sitting on the sofa next to Adam Levine and promising to look, but don’t touch.

(Adam Levine…mmmm….did I mention I bite?)

<cough> Sorry.  BUT HE’S SO PRETTY.

Anyway, I’ll measure out a reasonable portion and sit down with that.  One day, maybe I’ll just haphazardly pour out a bowl WITHOUT measuring it….but that will be after the genie grants me three wishes (a billion dollars, the ability to fly, and the ability to cancel out calories on any foods I wish.)

3.  It’s all or nothing.  Ladies?  You’ve done this, right?  Meticulously followed the diet for several days, and then dared to sample a Hershey’s Kiss or a peanut butter cup, and the entire dam broke, flooding your gut with whatever you could rapid-fire throw down your pie hole?

Why do we do this?  I mean, when I get a flat tire, the smart thing to do is call AAA.  The stupid thing to do is pull over, get out my gun, and shoot out the other three tires, the headlights, and the windshield.

BUT WE ALL DO THIS.

While I think AAA has had stranger calls, I won’t plan to bother them with my tales of unharnessed gluttony.  But I do need to find a way to interrupt the broadcast.  I can:

  • Go for a walk, a run, a bike ride.
  • Drink water (see below.)
  • Plan out the next day’s healthy food.
  • Go pull weeds.  (There’s ALWAYS something to rip out of the ground….)
  • Do my nails (hard to eat with wet nails!)
  • Whine about it here.  🙂

4.  Drink enough water.  During the week, I’m pretty good about this.  I drink two twelve-ounce glasses in the morning, adding a third if I went for a run.  I drink 20 oz of herbal tea and 20 oz of hot water (because I’m chronically freezing) while at work.  I’ll try to get 1-2 more glasses at home in the evenings.  Also, I need to keep up the fluids on weekends (besides wine.  WHY CAN’T THAT COUNT <sobs>)

It’s been said that it takes 21 days to break a habit.  Frankly, I call BS on that (and so does this article, which states it can be upwards of 245 days or more.)  And I’ve been trapped in this food funhouse since I was ten years old, so maybe it’s me, and not the habit, that needs breaking.

But if I can do just one thing a tiny bit healthier than how I did it before?  That’s progress.  Some days, I might be hanging by a fingertip from the edge of a cliff – but as long as I don’t let go – as long as I keep hanging on – I have a shot at getting two (well-manicured) fingers up there tomorrow.

I’ll get there one finger at a time.

Sanctuary on a Sunday

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Sundays are hard.

I don’t know why this is – I mean, I don’t hate my job, so it’s not a dread for Monday or anything.  Could be something as simple as a couple days off from the regular routine, I suppose – differing hours of sleep; variation in eating patterns (and more likely to be consuming things I shouldn’t be eating, like fat, sugar, salt, sugar, and sugar.  Oh, and sugar.)

So today, I was visiting the in-laws with the hubs and all of our kids.  I feel like I need to clarify something here – my in-laws freaking ROCK.  I married their only child, and they’ve totally adopted us – not only me as a daughter, but my kids as their grandchildren.  (Which means that my kids have way, way too many Christmases.  Three sets of grandparents will do that for you.  Lucky them.)

My mother-in-law is the sweetest person ever, and she spoils us rotten.  Unfortunately for me, this usually means she’s got our favorite treats prepared when we come to visit.  This weekend, for example, she had at the ready two batches of cookies, a pumpkin pie, a sheet of apple pie squares, chocolate pudding (the good kind that you have to cook, not that crappy instant pseudo-pudding that tastes like sad puppies), and vanilla ice cream AND whipped cream to top them off.  WE WERE ONLY GONNA BE THERE FOR 24 HOURS.  Sigh.  Oh, and there was wine. 

I walked into this temptation trap after a week of overeating – and yesterday, when I took a picture of my tattoo, I saw how fat and squishy my back has gotten, and…just…ugh.

Boom.  And there it goes.

It’s no surprise that I overate, right?

So today, I’ve been anxious and restless.  My mind has had more deer flies than the standing water in a swamp.

You’re so fat. 

Your thighs are HUGE. 

Look at that back fat. 

Everything squishes where your clothes touch you. 

You look pregnant in that shirt.  All the lumps show.

I tried batting them away, attempting to distract myself with something – anything.  But you can only swat so many away before you’re drained, sore, and defeated.

And, as bizarre as it sounds, while I’m degrading myself for taking up so much space, I simultaneously CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT FOOD.  I want ice cream.  Popcorn.  Pudding.  Ice cream.  Pizza.  Cookies.   Ice cream.  Peanut butter.  ICE CREAM.

I’m in the uncomfortable, illogical dichotomy of wanting to eat and wanting to be thin.

I hate the wanting.

I decided that I needed to get out of the house for a while.  Because it was sunny and bright outside, and the sun makes me feel better.  It was really warm, which meant no one else would want to tag along.

(Side note:  Midwesterners are weird.  They’re absolutely stoic in January when it’s 26 degrees below 0 – they actually SIT OUTSIDE and go ice fishing and drink beer and stuff AND THINK THIS IS FUN – but turn the heat up above 80 with just a TOUCH of humidity and they wilt like a puff of cotton candy at the State Fair. I’d like to see them survive a DC summer, where we counted 90/90 days – over 90 degrees and over 90% humidity.  Being an orchid, that’s my kind of weather.  But the locals whine and complain, and I return the favor when the temperature dips below freezing.  Or below sixty.  Like I said, I’m an orchid.)

(Additional side note:  26 below 0 is stupid cold.  I mean beyond OMG and WTF.  This is a new level of cold.  You can actually throw a pot of boiling water in the air and it freezes before it hits the ground.  And one time?  A friend of mine took a deep breath outside on one of those mornings, and his PORCELAIN TOOTH SHATTERED.  Like I said.  Stupid cold.)

Recently, the hubs installed a trailer hitch on my truck, and we invested in a really good bike rack so we could take more rides in more interesting places than around our neighborhood.  I had brought my bike along for this overnight trip thinking that I might need some exercise (because food – see above.)

I was so glad I did.

I headed out, not having any clue where I wanted to go.  The in-laws live in a very rural area; while there aren’t really many landmarks, or road signs, if you don’t turn you can’t get lost, right?

It was hot, but there was a great breeze.   There were lots of hills, but the sun warmed my skin and sweetened the bitter messages my brain had been telling me.  I pedaled faster.

And it was a gorgeous day.  Plenty of gorgeous wildflowers:

lake2I saw some bulls – with REALLY intimidating horns – chilling right next to the road.  Clouds of butterflies and flocks of ducks scattered as I rode past.  A wild turkey crossed the road a few feet ahead of me.

And there were lakes everywhere.

Lake18.6 miles later, I felt a bit better.  With that sort of scenery, how could you not?

I’m home now, and unfortunately, I’m still fat.  I really need to hunker down and focus on eating healthy amounts of food, and eliminate some bad habits (OK, destructive patterns.  I’m trying here, people.)

But my journey to seek the sun nudged the beat-myself-up-meter just a little to the left. I’m disappointed in my body, sure.  I wish I hadn’t indulged in so many treats.  And I certainly am not looking forward to this week’s weigh-in.

But despite its flaws, my body did something well today.  I rode hard and rode well, uphill (yes, both ways were uphill, you weren’t there so you don’t know) in the hot sun.

I rode my way to just a little piece of sanctuary for my soul.

Despite all the things I still need to work on, I can be thankful for the ability to do that.

The Road to Recovery Has Potholes and Pitfalls

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I haven’t written anything about food issues in a while.  This wasn’t intentional, nor was it any sort of avoidance.

I just haven’t had anything dramatic to write about.

It’s been nearly three weeks since I wrote about food – at the time, I had a pretty typical binge, followed by a couple days of pretty hardcore restricting (for the uninitiated, that’s where you really don’t eat….anything.)

But since then?  It’s been…fairly quiet.  While I recognize that this isn’t exactly “recovery,” it’s still progress.  There are a lot of things I’ve done right these last couple of weeks:

1.  I’ve been eating a fairly healthy 1200 calories a day.  I do want to drop a couple of pounds, so yes, I’ve been tracking and measuring my food…BUT I’ve been doing it in a way that I’m sure the Weight Watchers Wizards would approve:

  • I’ve started most days with a smoothie – made with REAL food, thankyouverymuch, no Frankenfood or lab-created powders.
  • Mid-day, I’ve had a healthy lunch AND a snack
  • In the evening, I prepared a sensible dinner followed by a SMALL treat (vs. an entire bag of treats.  Do NOT underestimate how big this is.)

2.  I have been running 3-4 times a week.   Regular exercise helps me burn off all that extra angst/cortisol so I can think, focus, and eventually sleep.

Side note:  If you don’t know what cortisol is, CLEARLY you don’t read the same magazines I do, because it’s the Cristiano Ronaldo of hormones these days. 

Wait…you don’t know who that is, either?  HE ONLY HAS LIKE A HUNDRED MILLION FACEBOOK FRIENDS YO. 

Sigh.  Cristiano Ronaldo’s boring page about sports and why you should care.  (Go directly to #4.  YOU’RE WELCOME)

<snaps fingers>  Focus?  FOCUS.

Back to cortisol.  Essentially, it’s the fight-or-flight hormone.  Your body makes it as a response to stress; it prepares the body physically to handle running from (or stabbing) a rabid bear, or a tough jungle swing over the swamp to avoid alligators or whatever.

Nowadays, we don’t have too many legit physical stressors.  Instead, we valiantly fight things like rush hour, IT issues, or Facebook drama.  So our bodies pump out all this cortisol, prepping us for battle…and we don’t burn it off.  Confused, our bodies make us crave sugar, build abdominal fat, and give us a lot of stomachaches.  YAY.  (Read more about cortisol here.)

3.  I was BEING KIND TO MYSELF.  I bought a couple of new dresses that, if I may say so, make me look fabulous.  And I FEEL fabulous in them.  <struts runway-style in front of picture window and checks self out>

In all the above, I wasn’t getting crazy sauce all over the walls DOING any of this.  I actually didn’t measure out my lettuce for my salads.  (Yes, people with eating disorders do this.  Because lettuce DOES HAVE CALORIES and THEY ADD UP.  OK, I’m still measuring mustard, BUT THIS IS STILL PROGRESS SO SHUT IT)  And on a couple of days, I actually went OVER 1200 calories by a few, and I – miracle of miracles – just shrugged and figured it’d all even out.

Whoa.  Who is this goddess of zen?

I was feeling pretty victorious at this point. CHAMPION WARRIOR MODE

catunicornwarriorToday I was PLANNING TO WRITE about how great I was doing – and last night – LAST NIGHT – this happened:

badguysposter

<sigh>

The frustrating thing is that I don’t know what triggered this.  I wasn’t hurting.  I wasn’t angry.   The hubs and I haven’t fought – nor have I fought with him in my head instead of out loud – in several days.  I was a little tired, sure, but show me any woman in her 40s with teenagers and a full-time job who isn’t, right?

I suppose I may have simply just been too hungry.  Hmm…actually, the more I think about it, the more this makes sense.  I was playing a variety of sport-like games outside with my son – Wiffle ball, kickball, basketball –  and I remember feeling completely out of gas.  I mean, I’m not normally channeling Michael Jordan or anything – remember, I’m no athlete – but I could NOT make a SINGLE basket yesterday.

When we came inside, I thought maybe I needed a snack.  And that’s precisely where the dam broke.

It started with the popcorn – yes, the king-sized pillow bag from Costco; WHY DO I LET THESE INTO MY HOUSE – and half a bag and a Concrete Mixer later, I was filled to the brim with junk food and regret.

This morning, I feel pretty sick (well, DUH, what exactly were your expectations after eating half a silo of cheese popcorn, Princess?)  It’s a veritable food hangover.  I’m bloated and headachy; my stomach is rebelling like a cat who’s been trapped in a closet for fourteen hours and recently got out and promptly shredded the curtains.

It’s my own fault, I know.

But instead of hanging my soul on a hook in the basement and using it as a punching bag, let me see if I can learn from this.

What can I do differently next time?

When I get past the point of being hungry, I should start with a small, measured snack (measured simply so I don’t finish the entire package of whatever) to see if that alleviates the feeling.

I need to accept that some days I’ll be hungrier than others, and I need to trust my body to TELL me that it needs food.

Right now, my body’s so accustomed to being ignored, it only whispers, so I’ll need to pay really close attention.  That’s the hard part; I’ve spent so much of my life telling myself to shut up and denying the basic need for food that I truly have little idea what genuine hunger feels like.

This morning, I’m determined.  I had a couple of really, really good weeks running on the road to recovery.  But sometimes, you get distracted by the scenery and forget to watch for potholes.  So I tripped and fell.

Today, I’m brushing the dust off.  Taking a couple of tentative steps.  Hmm.  Nothing’s broken. It stings a little, but it’s only a skinned knee and a lightly bruised ego.

It’ll heal.  I think I can keep running.

3 Days, 3 Quotes: Day 1 – Artfully Plating an Opinion

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Earlier today, I was so VERY KINDLY nominated to participate in the 3 Days, 3 Quotes challenge by luvbearlvx.

<coughcoughjustyouwaituntiltheglittereyeshadowchallengecoughcough>

Ok, seriously, he is really quite entertaining, plus he has cats (one of whom typed his username, I think) so you should totally read his shiz.

So, the challenge:

For 3 days, post a quote and express what that quote means to you.  And nominate 3 other suckers lucky bloggers to take the challenge as well.

So…today’s quote.  I don’t actually REMEMBER a lot of quotes – once in a while, I’ll see one that’s been artfully crafted into a meme on Facebook; I’ll smile or chuckle, click “like,” and move on with my day.  The quote flits out of my life much like a butterfly tipped from its perch, quickly forgotten and sent off into the ether to make some other person’s life a bit more beautiful for a moment.

But this quote really stuck with me when I read it.  I liked it so much that I actually emailed it to myself so I wouldn’t forget it.  It spoke to me so clearly, I actually HAD IT MADE INTO A T-SHIRT YO.

“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” ~ Paulo Coelho

shirtfront(Special shoutout to CustomInk for helping me create this.  Isn’t it cute?  It’s awesome and so is their customer service.  You should totally hit up their site and buy a lot of shirts with YOUR quotes on them.)

That’s not me modeling the shirt, by the way.  It’s the model on the site.  And this shirt runs small, so I had to order a <choke> MEDIUM, which would normally mean “I’m fat, I hate myself, and I fail at life,” but I like the shirt so much I DON’T EVEN CARE.  <gasp>

Until I read this quote, I had never heard of this Paulo Coelho dude.  I Googled a little bit, because I don’t want to accidentally support the quotation of, say, some puppy-kicker, or some a$$clown who chucks snow cones at senior citizens just for giggles, right?

I quickly found out that Paulo Coelho has a really, really difficult name to type.  (Seriously, try it. It’s not just me, is it?)  And he’s from Brazil, which probably means he’s pretty hot.  Beyond that, he’s a pretty interesting character, according to Wikipedia:

  • His dad was an engineer, and he was discouraged from pursuing writing.  (Really. I mean, it’s not like the kid wanted to be a wizard, or a penguin, or the Batmobile. Sheesh, let a kid dream a little.)
  • He decided to do it anyway, after researching and deciding that a writer “always wears glasses and never combs his hair” and has a “duty and an obligation never to be understood by his own generation.”   (SAID EVERY TEENAGER IN AMERICA TO HER PARENTS)
  • He escaped three mental institutions before the age of 20 (Misunderstood, yet creative and quite resourceful.)
  • He wrote a whole bunch of books that I haven’t read.  But probably should.  At least The Alchemist.  I mean, MADONNA read it.  And Will Smith.  If it’s good enough for Fresh Prince….?

So – why this quote?  Well, for one, it really explains my FAVORITE BUMPER STICKERS EVAH:

coexist

I like these so well, I put one on the back of my shirt:

shirtbackTo me, these mean something beyond “Live and let live” – they mean “seek, with love, to understand.”   Does it mean we always agree?  No, of course not.  But it DOES mean we’ll hear each other out and be respectful.

Your beliefs are as valuable as mine.

I mentioned in an earlier post that the hubs was, as of late, making some very impassioned downright hateful anti-religion statements.  I know I’ve said I find it hurtful…but even if I step outside of myself and my admittedly selfish, self-centered feelings, I still just cannot see that it’s doing anyone any good.

What’s the benefit of hate?

Does hate change minds?

Does force create converts?

I’ve never thought so.

But this works both ways.  ALL ways.  See, if you want someone to agree with you – if you want someone to listen to you, hear what you’re saying, and possibly adapt your viewpoint as their own – you have to make it appealing.

It’s like food.  You can slop a wad of mystery hash onto a plastic tray next to some cold, soggy vegetables, and bark out orders from under your hairnet to “EAT IT.”  Or, you can pull out some colorful Fiesta dishes, artfully arrange it on a plate with a grain, a bright veggie, and a playful garnish, and serve it with the airplane spoon.

No one will swallow your words if they’re not palatable.  No one will come back for seconds if what you’re saying is too difficult to chew.  Much like many a determined toddler, they’ll either refuse to eat, crossing their arms and staring you down defiantly, or they’ll shove just enough behind their cheeks to get them excused from the unpleasantness that is your dinner table.

You have to present what you’re serving with the concept that it’s a really, really good thing.  That’s the only way to get people to try what you’ve cooked up.  SHOW them that it’s wonderful.

I mean, if you’re presented a new dish, are you likely to relish tasting from a plate violently thrust at you with the command, “EAT THE DAMN SQUID ALREADY”?  I’m guessing notsomuch.  But you MIGHT be willing to dip your fork into the artfully plated broiled calamari with lemon cream sauce.

The human mind is a beautiful thing, really.  I love the incredible creativity and variety that cognitive thought has allowed us to experience.  We all have the opportunity to feed one another; let’s do so with kindness and compassion.  Let’s try to understand how poisonous words and attitudes can be, and instead work to nourish and enrich each other with a balanced, varied diet of thought, respect, and love.

Bon Appetit!

Whoops.  Forgot to select my next victim nominee.  I’d love to hear from Cass at Indisposed and Undiagnosed. I know she’s taking a break at the moment, but I miss her.

The Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award (and All About My Cats)

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SisterhoodAwardThanks so much to Nikki at Undiagnosed Warrior for this nomination!  If you, or someone you know, struggles with chronic illness – one that frustrates the medical community in the diagnosis and/or treatment – this is one of the many blogs you should be reading, because you’ll find someone who understands.  (You should follow all the blogs on the nominations list, too.  Because I only read awesome stuff.)

The Rules:  Answer 10 questions, and then nominate 7 other bloggers for this award (asking them to complete these 10 questions, too.) 

First, the questions:

Why do you have a blog? 

My first post goes into more detail on why I started writing, but here’s a summary:

I started this blog a few months ago as a “brain dump.”  I was in a pretty dark place with my “food issues” (let’s be real here – it’s an eating disorder, even if I’m not hooked up to an IV at the moment, right?); I was suffering some spiritual attacks from my spouse; and then my dad nearly died and I was quickly sucked into a whirlpool of self-destruction and I couldn’t keep my head above water anymore.

So I committed to getting well.  As part of that, I needed a safe place to let my brain work out what was really bothering me – after all, it’s never really TRULY about the food.  And now, a few months later, I’m not entirely sure what “well” will look like – but things look markedly less bleak from this end.  And when the shadows do come, they don’t stay for quite as long.

I think that’s progress.

What inspires you the most? 

Wow, great question.  I think, sadly, I’m often inspired (or, rather, motivated) by success – or by the ability to stay in control.  (Hello, part of the problem, maybe?)

But I’m also inspired by the incredible beauty in nature.

DSC03099

lillies

Favorite animal and why?

I’m two cats shy of Crazy Cat Lady status.  I have three.  In true CCL form, let me talk about them a little too much:

This is Carrot.  (Because how cool is it to have an orange cat named Carrot?) Carrot (Yes, I know.  I don’t make my bed.  Judge if you must.  Just not gonna happen.)

I got him in 2005; he was two or three at the time and his past four owners had…died.  I was newly divorced, had relocated for a job, and wanted a “forever friend” – so we rescued each other.  (Aw.  Barf.)

He’s my intuitive cat; he comes to me when I need emotional support.  This one seems to be a thinker.  The hubs tells me “there’s a lot going on in that cat’s head.”   You can see it when you look at him, ya know?  He’s also the only cat in the house without an eating disorder.

Then we have Eileen – Lena for short.  BECAUSE SHE ONLY HAS THREE LEGS.  (I kill me.)  LenaLena is sometimes referred to as “the fat sack of basement hate.”  She HATES, with a fiery passion, our other cats.  She’s always hissing at our 3rd cat (to be fair, he is quite literally sniffing up her butt much of the time; I’d hiss too.) She loves people, though, and will snuggle and purr for weeks at a time.

In addition to being obese, she’s also bulimic.  She binge-eats when she can get away with it, and on many a morning, I wander into the basement and stumble upon the aftereffects of Barfageddon.  (Note – Baby wipes do a nice job spot-cleaning carpet. You’re welcome.)

Oh, and I’d say she’s as dumb as a post….but no post ever insulted ME, so I won’t go there.  Sweet purring ball of fur….nobody home when the doorbell rings.  Complete and total mental vacancy.  Intellectual abyss.

And then we have….Oliver.

OliverOliver is also obese.  Of no help to his appearance is that he has a disproportionately small head.  But he’s totally adorable.

He’s kind of…special.  On one hand, he’s the only cat that I was able to teach tricks to – he can sit up and beg for treats.  But then on the other hand, simple devices like doors completely baffle him.  In his mind, doors are push, not pull.  ALWAYS.  He’s locked himself into many a bathroom when the door was open….<push> <click>

Oh, and on more than one occasion, we’ve come home to find that he literally could NOT find his way out of a paper bag – he’d have his legs stuck in the handles, flying around the room with the bag flapping and crackling like a has-been super hero cape.

Oh, and (TMI WARNING:  If you’re easily grossed out, and/or you don’t think puke is funny, skip ahead.)  He thinks Lena is a vending machine.  He hears her starting to gag (which sounds like “bluck, bluck, bluck, bluckbluckblubulck <splat>) and he comes running like an overzealous janitor to perform Cleanup in Aisle 5.  WARM MOIST TREAT TIME!  YUMMO.  It’s disgusting…and hilarious.

(OK, squeamish delicate types can resume reading now.)

What is your favorite color?

Orange – no question.  (I’ll bet you intuitive types have figured that out.)  I’m told that this is unusual….but I love the bright, optimistic energy of a rich orange.  Fall leaves and orange lilies are my favorites!  (Which explains my profile picture.  We went out on a sunny day with a camera seeking the perfect shade of orange and came back with over 100 shots of trees and leaves!)

Do you prefer the ocean or mountains?

That’s a tough one.  I don’t like to be cold and I don’t care for sand.  But both are truly soothing to the soul, and I always feel refreshed and re-energized when I go.

Sunset1Honestly, I think I just like really big rocks.  (That sounds dirty, but trust me, I mean it in a nature-y way.  Which still sounds dirty.  Never mind.  NEXT QUESTION.)

Tea or coffee?

HOW IS THIS EVEN A QUESTION.  COFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEE

Actually, to be fair, I HAVE cut back considerably. I only have ONE cup of coffee a day now.  (Yes, it holds 24 ounces.  It STILL COUNTS AS ONE CUP.  SHUT UP.  I NEED IT.)

I drink it black, because anything else isn’t coffee, it’s dessert.  Plus, I don’t want the metabolism of sugar and cream to slow down the slap-yo-momma-HELLO jolt I get from my morning cup of personality.   (And OK, yeah, calories are an issue, obviously.  So I drink it black and look like a badass.)

After my AM coffee, I do switch to herbal decaf tea, and I do like it.  Sleep is often elusive, so I cut out the caffeine after noon.

How many languages can you speak?

Before coffee?  Caveman.  After?  Much closer to English.

What made you happy today?

This year, the hubs and I bought some Adirondack chairs for the yard – for the sole purpose of sitting outside and reading.

I spent some time today doing just that.  How can this view make you feel anything but joy and peace?  I mean – look at that sky:

OutsideWhat is your dream?

Usually, it’s one where I’m not prepared for something.  Like, college starts tomorrow, and I haven’t registered for classes, nor found a place to live.  Or I have my senior recital tomorrow, and I haven’t finalized the songs, OR the program, and don’t have an accompanist yet.

Wait.  What?

Oh. You mean my personal wish-for dream.  Okay.  I want to win Powerball. The first thing I would do?  Take my alarm clock out to the driveway and back over it repeatedly with my truck.  Then I’d learn how to play guitar and I’d perform in coffeehouses singing folk songs and ballads and donate the money to charity.  Would I quit my job?  Not actively, but after a few days, I bet they figure it out.  😉

What is your favorite food?

Pizza is the shiz-bomb-dealio. END OF DISCUSSION.

Oh, and to be PERFECTLY CLEAR – it has to be “real” pizza.   None of this arugula, water chestnut, pineapple, and broccoli crap.  That is NOT pizza.  That is disappointment pie, and we are NOT having any of THAT in THIS HOUSE.

Red sauce (or white, I’m all about diversity!), cheese (do not even THINK of messing with this) and a host of other toppings will work.  But don’t be going freak show on my pizza.  I will get REAL ugly up in your oven, yo.

Aaaaand my seven nominations:

karmasarma (love her drawings!)

Mermaid in a Mudslide (love the variety)

Remember the Good Stuff (very uplifting)

The Persistent Platypus (I keep saying this – contagious energy)

Living with Confidence (great messages, makes me think)

Fixed on the Son (I love her look and her energy)

Living to Thrive (Positivity with chronic illness)

Thank you all for being an inspiration in so many ways!  Hugs, love, glitter. Barf.  🙂