I finished the story. I rule all. I feel 100 percent better. I feel like I should celebrate somehow. Like with a full-fat latte from Starbucks. No! It's exactly that kind of thinking that got me to the weight I am today.
I guess the weight gain started after I graduated high school in 1997. I was so glad to be out of there and on my way to college that every day felt like a celebration. Instead of limiting meals out to once or twice a week, I justified it by saying, "Well, I worked hard and I deserve it." McDonald's fries, Arby's beef n' cheddars, Dairy Queen Blizzards - nothing was off limits.
Needless to say, halfway through my freshman year I had gone from a size3-4-5 to a definite size 7. But it didn't stop there. Over the next few years I worked up to three part-time jobs at once and took a full load of classes. By the time I graduated I was a size 10. When I got my first job - at the local newspaper - I didn't have time to eat right or exercise. I'd come home after a 10-hour day and collapse. I'd run to Burger King and eat at my desk or go for fatty lunches out with coworkers.
Now my attitude has changed. To me, food is no longer a reward for something accomplished; it's a means of combating hunger. I eat when I'm hungry and try to include as much "good stuff" as I can. I don't deny myself small squares of chocolate or the occasional non-diet Sprite. I'm thinner, and I'm happier.
(Apologies if you've read a past entry of mine similar to this. I have to reiterate this occasionally to keep myself on track.)
Thursday...yay for me. I still have one short story to do today but I am on a major procrastination jag and I simply can't make myself do it. Never mind the fact that the graphic design layout guy is going to be here at noon.
I am going to be so happy when this last story is done. It's been like an albatross - I can't enjoy myself while it's hanging over my head. But that's my problem.
Okay, so, more detailed info about last night's yoga session: It rocked. (I already said that, didn't I?) I really like this yoga instructor; she's really good and has this lilting kind of voice with an accent that just sounds so pleasing to me for some reason. I was really nervous at first because I was the only student - which meant that if I screwed up, she would definitely know about it. I don't know why, but I live in fear of being corrected by my yoga instructor. I guess it's all those years of sucking in grade-school gym that did it to me. (I could not hit that softball for anything.) But anyway, I didn't screw up that bad - she did kinda push me further toward the floor on the downward dog asana - and she even looked surprised when I told her I'd only been practicing for a few months.
I'm going to try and go again tonight. There's a beginner class at the gym - a substitute instructor will be there, but that's okay. I found out last night that yoga is most effective when it's done three times a week. So I am going to go tonight and then follow my favorite instructor like some groupie to this other gym, where she teaches a class on Sunday.
Oh yeah ... I did almost 20 minutes of cardio on the treadmill before doing the yoga class. So I got a little calorie burning boost there. I need calorie burning boosts, man. For the past week there has been a basket full of chocolate and stuff on the table outside my office, and it constantly calls my name. I can just see the little green wrappers around the Andes chocolate mints out there, and the gold Ghirardelli squares glisten in the sunlight ... it's torture. But today I have been good and only eaten like three small pieces, so I think I'm okay. Plus a chocolate biscotti with my coffee, but that's okay too since I didn't eat anything else for breakfast.
Haven't checked the scale lately. I honestly don't want to, at least not until I've been back on the six-days-a-week-for-45-minutes-a-day exercise circuit for a while. But the pants are still fitting OK - I'm definitely a size 10 these days, rather than straddling the border between 10 and 12 - so things should be fine. I really don't understand the lower half of my body. I know plenty of women who weigh just as much or more than I do, but they're fitting into size 6 and 8 like it's no big deal. It's because of my child-bearing hips, dammit. The bones are set so wide apart that I have trouble fitting through doors. (Just kidding.) But seriously - the bone structure just invites fat to pile on, and it's making it really hard for me to buy clothes. I've already given up on dresses, because invariably they're too big on top when they fit my hips, or they squeeze my lower half when they fit up top. That's what I get for having 34AA breasts (no, I am not kidding). But anyway...
Yoga class rocked. I was the only one (besides the instructor) who showed up for class tonight. So I essentially had a private training session. Pretty cool. Even though I only do yoga once or twice a week, I've found it's become infinitely easier these days. She had me do about a million chaturangas (go here for more info on them), which normally would have made me ill, but I thoroughly enjoyed them. Even the downward dog pose, which used to hurt my shoulders.
P.S.: For those of you who are looking for a great, peaceful CD, look no further than Deva Premal. Buy this album. I love it. You'll love it.
I just went to Big Lots and bought two more things for my Angel: A toy picnic set (as close to a tea set as I could find) and another shirt. I'm such a sucker.
Looking forward to yoga tonight. I really like the woman who leads the Wednesday night class. During the relaxation at the end she plays this wonderful song that I can't put my finger on. It may be by Enya.
It is SO HOT in Austin that I want to die. I swear it's like 75 degrees, maybe 80, out there. People are outside wearing shorts and sandals. Dammit, I don't ask for snow during Christmas. Can't I at least have some semi-cold weather? 40s or 50s?
I feel really good now. Last night Mark and I went to the mall and picked an angel from the Salvation Army's Angel Tree. I grabbed the first tag I saw - a 5-year-old girl - and we went and bought gifts for her. Here's what we got:
A Ballerina Barbie and one extra outfit
A "fashion plate" set (you pick Barbie's top, middle and bottom from the plastic plates, then put a piece of paper over them and rub the picture on with crayon)
Two Golden Books
Two coloring books and a 32-ct set of Crayolas
A nice sweater and jeans
A stuffed unicorn
I hope that's enough to give her a merry Christmas. She wants a tea set, too, so I'm going to try and find that for her today. It just breaks my heart to think of all the kids out there that wake up on Christmas morning and see that Santa has not come to their house. There were still a LOT of names on the tree, too; I hope someone helps them.
I really didn't get the attitudes of other people at the Angel Tree last night, though. A few of them were stopping at the tree and looking at each individual tag, which listed the kid's wish list and clothes sizes. Like they were trying to decide which one they wanted to sponsor. People, these kids all need your help; it really doesn't matter which one you pick. Just grab one and go with it.
I also went to the gym last night. Yay me! I only did 32 minutes on the treadmill, though (including three 2-minute high-intensity sprints). I didn't want to push myself. Tonight I'm going to do some yoga at the gym. It starts at 8:30 so I'll get there at 8 p.m. and do 30 minutes of cardio beforehand. The Experiment is on...
Maybe I do feel good enough to go to the gym today. After all, I managed to eat normally...but I'm going to cut it down to 30 minutes today, just so I don't pass out.
I have a confession to make. I'm not doing weights very much anymore. For a long while, I'd do my time on the treadmill or bike and then toodle downstairs to do the leg machines and stuff, but I'm just going through a period where I don't feel like it. I hate weights, but I love cardio. A coworker and I were discussing this a few weeks ago. She likes weights better, because it only takes a couple of minutes to work one muscle group and then you're done. But I hate that "burning" sensation that you get when you're reaching the end of a set and it just feels like you want to die. After all, you can't just lift 3 pounds and expect something to happen. You have to pump iron, baby. Don't get me wrong - I don't lift so much that it hurts, I just lift enough to tire me out at the end of set, which is what you're supposed to do.
But lifting makes me ill. Just the thought of it makes me ill. However, cardio is okay. I love running on the treadmill. I love sweating. I like doing my high-intensity, two-minute sprints, though I do wish they would put more interesting stuff on the TV (why does it have to be on ESPN all the time?). I feel skinnier after I get off that treadmill. I just feel like crap after I put down my weights.
So here's the official announcement - I'm going to conduct an experiment. I'm going to substitute yoga at least two times a week, to make up for the lack of weight training. I've read articles that say yoga can be a substitute for strength training, and I've read stuff that says lifting is still necessary. But I'm just going to see for myself.
I'm not going to slack off of cardio on my yoga days, no sir. I'm going to try and at least do 30 minutes on those days, preferably before the yoga class starts. The only drawback is that I'm probably going to have to do my yoga two days in a row and that's it - those are the only yoga classes that fit comfortably into my schedule. (Sure, I could go down to the gym at 10:30 a.m. on a Saturday, but how realistic is that?). So the sessions will be bunched real close together.
Anyway, so begins the Great Yoga Experiment...I'll keep you posted.
Good grief. Had to deal with a crying mother last night, due to my idiot sister's bad life decisions. I think I've mentioned her before...but in case I haven't, I'll fill you in: My sister got pregnant at 18 and married the father, her boyfriend, who was 19. They lived with my parents and their baby until recently, when my asshole brother-in-law (hereafter called ABIL) stole some stuff from my dad and my parents confronted him on it. So they moved out and they live in this crappy trailer park about 15-20 minutes away.
Anyway, last night ABIL took some sleeping pills. We're not exactly clear on what happened (sis isn't saying anything), but I think he took 2, a normal dose, and tried to make my sister think he took a lot more. See, my sister is very worrisome, and she lives for this guy. So she got really upset when ABIL wouldn't tell her how many he took, and called my mom. Mom called 911 and gave their address to the dispatcher, because she thought ABIL was dying or something. So the dispatcher called their cell phone (borrowed from my mom; they can't afford a phone yet) and apparently there was some screaming and yelling going on in the background, most likely ABIL yelling at my sister for calling Mom. She told 911 not to send any medical personnel, but the dispatcher sent the police instead, because it sounded like there was some domestic violence going on. Either that, or a neighbor heard them arguing and called.
So Mom gets there and ABIL is being evasive, won't tell anyone anything. Then the police show up and start questioning him. They get a little suspicious because he's got some weird things in the bedroom - clipped out a story about the Boston Strangler, has all kinds of violent kung fu movies, and a picture of Martin Luther King on the wall (I personally don't see anything wrong with that last one). He also had a street sign that his friend stole for him, and the cops took that away.
Then they start talking to my sister, asking if she wants to stay there that night. Mom suggests that sis come home with her, since she fears for her safety, and ABIL jumps up and starts cussing her out, I guess because he's offended that my mom could think he'd hurt her. Then he starts talking about Mom and my other sis, Kat, how he hates them both, can't stand them (even though they gave him a place to live when his mom kicked them out and has been buying diapers and formula for their baby since day one). Well, eventually the cops tell Mom and my other sis to leave, and by the time I hear about all this and call my sister the cops are gone. But Mom is totally upset and talking about how much she hates ABIL, wants to kill him, etc. etc. But anyway...
As far as weight loss...I ended up going home sick around 11 yesterday. Just felt too light-headed and weak to go on. But I did some work from home and lived on liquids. It was cool - according to my home scale I'm down to 129 even, which is cool, though I'll probably gain it all back soon by eating normally. No matter. Not sure if I'll go to the gym today - I felt normal this morning, but as I'm sitting here I realize that maybe I just can't handle 45 minutes on the treadmill today. But that's okay.
Yuck. I feel horrible! This weekend was pretty much OK, until Sunday. Mark got majorly sick - vomiting, fever, you name it - and I ended up taking him to one of those urgent-care walk-in clinics because he couldn't keep anything down. (I would have taken him to the hospital, but I knew we'd be there forever and it would be way more trouble.) They gave him a shot and he seemed to be OK after that.
But then I started feeling like crap. I was sleeping on the futon for most of the night, so as to not catch whatever he had, but around 3:30 a.m. I realized that it was too late, I already had it, and went back to our bed. I had been laying there for about 15 minutes when I got all kinds of sick. Seriously, I was one ill girl. I'm still pretty sick today, but I made an effort to come to work anyway. I've taken too many sick days already and I surely don't need to be out now.
But other than that, the weekend was fine. I didn't make it to the mall to adopt an Angel from the Salvation Army, but I did make some brownies, which will go out to my coworkers sometime this week. I worked out Friday, Saturday AND Sunday, doing 45 minutes of running/walking on the treadmill each time. I rock! But I probably won't be able to do it today - I haven't had anything to eat and I'm feeling pretty weak. Tomorrow doesn't look good, either.
Checked my weight yesterday and the scale at home read 129.5. I was psyched, being in the 120s and all, but then I tried the gym scale and it said I was 131. Weird. So I've either lost half a pound or gained a whole pound. Scales are funny.
Name: Jen Location: DFW, TX Occupation: Journalist WHY this stupid blog?: To lose the 20 pounds I've packed on since high school and to entertain you with stories about my fabulous life. Current Weight: 138 My Goal Weight: 115 Pounds to Go: 23
