Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Addendum/Subtracticum

So.  Good news - I got more money.  More than I expected, just a little less than I wanted.  I'm happy and tantrum free.

Also - down another 2.4 pounds, which means I got my fancy 10% keychain today.  Which, is freaking great.

Wouldn't it be nice if on top of my raise, I took home the Fitness Challenge grand prize.

Money is good, my health... even better.

My current Facebook status reads that I'm neither too rich nor to thin, but coming closer on both counts.

And Dad's home, and all is right with the world.

For now.

So what can I worry over next?

ae

PS - Oh, I know!  The knot on my head is back, and it itches.  Eh.  No biggie.

Who's zooming who?


I’m one of those people who doesn’t like suspense.  I want to know whodunit, did they live happily ever after and that Rosebud was the f***ing sled.  I was pissed off by the ending of The Bicycle Thief because it was so…  uncertain.  And depressing.  I read the last page first sometimes.

So, it’s 3:25 on Wednesday, and I am wired for sound because within 2 hours, I weigh in, and have no idea how that will end up, but spent the wee sma’s  dreaming that I gained 1.4 pounds.  Aaaaand, I find out what kind of raise I get for the year.  As you have probably long forgotten, I went to my boss (now, ex-boss) and told him I wanted a market adjustment on my salary.  I provided research.  And since then because I haven't forgotten, I’ve been patiently, and maybe too patiently, waiting.  And if I don’t get a bump, I’m very possibly going to lose my shit.  Publicly.   I mean, heads will turn at the sound of my blood-curdling scream.

And the thing is, I’m pretty sure I should prepare to be disappointed. 

But I’ll make damn sure he knows it’s NOT ok.  Because, it's not.

Now, in other, and better news – a happier ending.  Dad is home from the hospital – discharged yesterday.  Apparently, they got his meds regulated and said adios.  So who knows?  I feel like this is just going to start happening more often.  And I can’t sneak ahead to the last page to see how it turns out.

But this makes my hands and feet turn to blocks of ice, and I feel like I’ve got a ninja star stuck in my throat.

So, you know.  I’ll let you know.

Wish me luck.  I need some.

ae

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Once more, with feeling.

I started this blog back in April 2008 when dad was hospitalized, just before, unbeknownst to me, he would code twice, then beknownst to me and everyone else, get rushed into quadruple bypass surgery.

Well, he's back at St. Joe's.  He went to the ER complaining of hematuria (peeing blood) and they learned that his Coumadin and creatinine levels were elevated.  And so now, he's admitted and cold chillin' on the 4th Floor.  I am wondering if he'll be there long enough to send flowers.

Because, naturally, I'm getting on a plane for Houston tomorrow - training a customer, grinning like a moron, down in the tunnel tryin' to make it pay (dire straits, indeed).

And Wednesday, I'll be back in Nashville with an on-site customer, doing the same.  Now, in theory, Thursday and Friday could be done from Atlanta if I need to get down there and whatnot.

I think, I hope - this is just another bump in a long road with intermittent bumps.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to sign out and seek out some Pepperidge Farm Brussels - their texture relieves stress in the nicest way.

Whereas in 2008, I was seeking out a peanut butter fudge shake.  I wouldn't mind that either.

But in lieu of either, we have oranges.

And pudding.

I'll keep you posted.

ae

Saturday, March 26, 2011

World of laughter, world of tears

I was getting on the elevator at work Friday, and this guy said to me, "Did you grow up in North Point?"  Well, that was my subdivision, so I said that yes I did - and as it turns out, he did too.  We introduced ourselves and chatted til we got to my floor.  He lives in Franklin - right near the office.  His sister was my age, and I believe he and Laura were the same age.  But still, what are the odds?  I probably never spoke a dozen words to that guy in my life.  His sister and I knew each other, but weren't friends - we never had any classes together.

And yet, 250 miles from North Point Subdivision, in an office building on a random Friday, old neighbors connected.

It's a small world, after all.

This morning, I got up and did Aquafit - and decided to stick around to do the 9:30 Zumba.  My friend from Mondays, Susanna, was there - and another girl from our Monday night was there too - we all started talking, and it turns out her name is...Susanna.  Really?  Really.  We were discussing the instructor situation - our instructor Jessica has given up the Monday night class, and Carrie has taken her place.  We like her so far, but Carrie's background is more hip-hop and Jessica's was more ballet - at least, that is how I'd explain it.  The jury is out on Carrie.   I like her, but she's not Jessica.  But then

Still, I got quite a workout.  The bad news is that I was totally worthless the rest of the day.  Which, actually, is fine.

I bought some new bras yesterday - they're ugly, but man, do they do the job.  I'm front and centered and looking good.  I also picked up two new lipsticks.  Fancy.

I couldn't get over myself in the mirror at Zumba this morning.  Even with an old crappy bra, plus a baggy t shirt, and some voluminous yoga pants, I looked good.  I was wearing one of my bandanas that had a ganja leaf on it - Mom and Dad brought it to me from Jamaica.  Yeah, that might not have been YMCA appropriate.

I'm traveling to Houston Monday evening, back 24 hours later.  And then, lucky me - I have customers in house Wednesday.  Sounds like I'll earn my keep this week.

We have a trip to the mountains for work day coming up.  I can't wait.  I need the fresh air, the hard work and maybe even a cold beer.  Lola needs to harass the pugs a little, and Matt needs a break from technology.

We all have needs, people.  Needs!

Tomorrow, I have to prep for my Houston trip.  I would like to grab a new blouse for the trip.  I would like a lot of things.  But that is neither here nor there.  I haven't decided on what to wear when.  It sucks have clients in without a lot of clothes that fit right, work for the season, etc.

I guess there are worse problems to have.

Maybe I'll remember to bring my camera to Houston and share a few thoughts from there.

ae

Thursday, March 24, 2011

I'll tell you.

So, another loss this week, but since I’ve been so boring and single-minded about weight-loss for six weeks, I’ll throw you a bone by way of a blog post about something other than FOOD/BODY/FITNESS.

Can I do it?  Ehhh, I’ll try.

I’ve been having a pretty strong case of the wants this week.  Which isn’t easy, because the fine line between want and need can blur, easily.

For instance:  do I need new bras?  Or do I just want them?  Well I definitely want them.  I would like some that pull  everything front and center, because at the moment, I’m dealing with low-hanging chest fruit.  Or as Matt like to say, chesticles.

Yeah, folks, it’s only going to devolve from here, so sign out now if you must.

Point being, due to recent changes in my shape (which I know, we’re not going to talk about)  some new bras wouldn’t be a bad idea.  But I don’t want to invest heavily, since they too will become ill-fitting in another quarter.

So, perhaps I get a few cheaper, sturdy, serviceable models from Wally World, call it a week, and consider making  a trip to Intimacy part of the final celebration.

I also want some new lipstick.  And that’s pure want.  But as it happens, this past weekend I wore a much, much lighter shade than I normally do, and Matt commented favorably on it.  I initially disagreed, but as time went on, I realized it did make me look younger than the dark, dramatic colors.   And as you probably know, I’m prone to looking a little clown-mouthy with the darker colors.  Why so serious?  But yes, a few new (cheap) lipsticks in a lighter, neutral shade might be a good investment in my future.


I want to get my eyes checked because I’m afraid I need new specs.  I’m not about to go all Mary Ingalls on you, don’t fear that – but things aren’t as sharp as they once were.  Isn’t that the overriding metaphor, though?

Let’s see.  I want to rent a pressure washer, and kill the house with kindness.  Once it’s beaten into a clean submission, I want to repaint the trim.  White, with the porch and shutters a nice blue.

And I want to refinish the table next to our front door, and I’d like a new platform storage bed and mattress for downstairs.

But, you know – other than that not much.

In other news, I’m making friends.   As it turns out, I’m starting, finally, at the tender age of 36 to find my voice and grow into my personality, and as it turns out, I like me.  Which, let’s face it – beats a lot of alternative

And in other other news – the weather here in Music City has been phenomenal the past few days, and then today, apropos of nothing, the temps dropped markedly.  Markedly.  And it sucks.  I am just ready to crawl into bed and sleep til it gets warmer.

And since I’m headed to Houston next week, that ought to do it.

More soon.

And that is how you write a non-food, non-body image post.

Sort of.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Puff Adder


This is a picture of me all dolled up from our cousin Hannah's Sweet Sixteen Party down in Dalton, GA.  Don't let the background fool you - I'm not in a beach somewhere in Miami circa 1987.

And don't let the awesome make-up job mislead you, either.  I have no idea how to successfully wear four shades of eyeshadow at the same time.  What I find most distressing from the photos is that even though I've lost almost 20 pounds and people are telling me how noticeable it is... I'm still actually quite fat.  Which means, among other things my self-image has been very distorted for a very long time.  If I were a braver woman, I'd pick one of the less flattering pictures Matt took of me to share - and there are plenty - I'm always his test case for lighting, etc.  So there are plenty of excellent shots of the back of my frizzy flat head, my large posterior, swathed in acid wash and HOT PINK jacket.  Lots of jowly double-chinny action, and what the hell?  How does someone's forehead get so fat?  The fact that my smile is crooked in this picture is nothing - at least I look a little less lardy.

So, self-deprecation aside, the weekend could have gone far, far, far worse. I ate three pieces of pizza at the party (two with ham one cheese), a small piece of cake, a cookie and a handful of cheese doodles.



I had a chicken biscuit from Bojangles at breakfast this morning.  And got instant heartburn.

I didn't touch the pound cake, hash browns, blueberry (OK, OK, Bo-Berry) biscuits. I didn't stray into the jar of candy in the kitchen. I did eat a cheeseburger at Steak and Shake, but I didn't get fries, and I definitely didn't get a shake, dammit.

My fingers are swollen like hot dogs, and I'm not getting on the scale until the morning, because I don't want to know - almost as badly as I do want to know.

That said, the party was a success, the weekend was a success. None of the family noticed I'd lost any weight, and that's actually fine with me - though if they had, I might have been more inclined to say when on the pizza.



But, as you can see, Matt and I both had great costumes,  we had fun seeing folks we don't get to see that often, and I swear, there is something special about the Pad at Kelly and Flora's that causes me to sleep like I've been drugged.  Except that I wake up completely rested.

Tonight, I ate a sensible dinner, we went to see "Night of the Hunter" at the Belcourt, and now I'm winding down for a week at the office.

I don't have just a ton of training, and honestly, what I could really use is a big old bunch of money and time to spend it.  I need new tires, some new clothes, an oil change, and about three days off to get some Spring cleaning done.

And, I need to detox.  As we know, I vowed not to mess with the dieter tea, but... eggshells and promises sometimes get broken.

Mmmmm.  Eggs.

And because you've read this far...


Ok, ok - I may have to put this one on my fridge.   But you have to admit, I can throw together sweet, sweet Goodwill Couture.

With my own puffy paws.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Oh, that's not good...

I just finished making a cake, and I have to be honest, some batter made it into my mouth.

Which means I'm going to have a rough weekend trying to avoid the pitfalls of cake, birthday party food, chicken biscuits and so on.

I may have to get into the Gastric Explosion Tea, and eat some sandpaper to boot.

Ok - one dip into cake batter isn't failure.

I had a good talk with my father today, during which I said to him, "I can't control what food is put in front of me this weekend, but I can control what I put in my mouth."

And then I ate about a half cup of cake batter.

Of course dinner was steamed chick/shrimp and veg from the Chinese place next to Kroger. It wasn't very filling. Actually, it was filling, just not satisfying. Whereas the cake batter just makes me feel vaguely sick.

But now, I have to pack, launder and shave legs before I fall into bed.

Oh, and take a cake out of the oven.

The good news? I'm not craving cake any more.

ae

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Wins Day

Good news - whether it was the Gastric Explosion Tea, or the strict adherence to diet, or just damn good lunar tides - I lost the .2 from last week, and another 1.8 to go with it.

For a grand total of 19.8 unwanted, unneeded pounds gone.

Yayyy!

Ok, so I have to kill it this weekend so that next week, I can report a 20 pound goal, signed sealed and delivered.

Meanwhile - there's this guy in our group - new to the group, but not the program. He keeps saying, "Well, it's just portion control and exercise - it's really simple." Really, asshole? You get 45 points a day and your wife does all the cooking. He's about 60, looks kind of like Alan Alda. And when he pipes in with his Captain Obvious bullshit, it's all I can do to keep from saying, "Shut your damn mouth Hawkeye and let the women talk."

Weight Watchers does a fine job of giving you many, many of the tools you need to succeed from a mechanics standpoint. But it's the emotional tools where I think they fall short. Like how to deal with know-it-alls. Just for instance.

So, with that out of the way, tomorrow, allegedly, is my review.

And I assure you, I'll make that happen if it kills me.

Tomorrow is also St. Patrick's Day. I have nothing to wear, but what else is new? I am neither Irish, nor Catholic. I did make a funny in my meeting tonight - I told them that green beer has no more fiber than that which hasn't been dyed.

And really, beyond that, there's not much to say.

Matt's got Raiders of the Lost Ark playing. I need to be folding laundry, but of course, it's critical that I get all the minutiae of my days written, so that years from now, when I'm famous, you'll know that I used to do laundry, just like everyone else.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Ain't that a shame!

1. I tried Dieter Cleanse Tea. Won't be doing that again. Made it home, barely. I do at least feel cleansed. Lighter? We'll see tomorrow afternoon. We'll never speak of it again after that. It was gross.

2. My ex-boss blew my review off Monday. And today. And he's out tomorrow. I confronted him and told him it wasn't OK. And he said his head wasn't in the game and he didn't want to do a half-assed job. I am holding him to 8AM Thursday. We'll see. I'm angry, but I at least let him know he's a disappointing failure (or, implied it mildly), so I feel better about that.

3. My new boss is off-site this week. She'll be on Spring Break with the kids next week. I'm not getting a lot of nurturing.

4. I was complaining about this to my colleague, and he suggested I take some "Allison time". I don't even know how, and that's shitty. I used to sub out food, but now that I don't have that... hot baths don't really cut it, I don't need a mani or pedi right now, and the short-term thrill of an eyebrow wax... meh.

5. I'm going to go buy a whip.

I can't give unlimited detail on everything, can I? Photos soon.

ae

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Could you repeat that?

I think it goes without saying that the past few months have had their challenges.

When my department isn't being re-orged, I'm obsessing about what I'm putting in my gaping maw. And then at what rate it's leaving the other end.

Or if that's under control, then it's the knot on my head, which is back - and let's not ignore the fact that I'm getting assorted bills from that debacle, which means that I'm going to have to get on the phone with my insurance company.

So, I get a call from my Old Boss on Friday asking me how my schedule looks on Monday. It happens to be the one day that is free and clear, and that apparently is good, because he wants to give me my review.

Now, I have it on excellent authority (via my New Boss) that nothing about money has been decided, and since all the goals I created for my review were related to being in Support, there's really nothing that Old Boss can tell me that I don't already know. My score will be in the 3 range, which doesn't mean anything based on the fact that no money has been allotted yet.

So, a man who is no longer my boss will be reviewing me for a job which I no longer have and he won't be able to give me goals for the year.

Which leads me to the question...what's the fucking point?

Again, I know that New Boss has already done all her reviews. Has she set up goals for me? I don't know. This week, she'll be onsite with a client - so it's just me and my team member, and then the other Implementation Specialists (like my new title?) rocking it out.

But, I got the whole weekend to ruminate on it, and that was awesome. Because, as you may remember from posts past, the whole review thing traumatizes me to begin with. I dreamed about it a few times.

And if that weren't enough, I was starting dinner tonight, and the sink completely backed up. Matt and I spent several hours trying to free up the pipe, and now it's looking like we're going to be calling a plumber. Really, what is the universe trying to tell me?

If I figure it out I'll let you know.

ae

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Stuck (Up)

So, I've been challenged a bit in the past few days with dining out. I had lunch at Mexicali with the new boss and several teammates on Thursday, then had dinner that night at Jason's Deli, followed by dinner last night at Calypso Cafe, and finally lunch this afternoon at La Hacienda.

And the fact is, none of those meals were overly unhealthy. Twice I had Mexican and didn't touch the chips and salsa.

But, I've been hitting the scales, daily, which I know I ought not do - and yet, I do anyway. They don't seem to be moving. Up, or, more importantly, down.

Am I stuck? Am I destined to gain again?

Part of the problem is that I'm a little bloaty/constipated. I'm considering getting a good Dieters Tea, which is said to have cleansing (read: diuretic and laxative) properties, and it can't hurt... we all know, I'm eating plenty of fiber, drinking my water. Maybe I need some of Jamie Lee Curtis' special yogurt.

So now that you know aaaall about what condition my condition is in (yeah, yeah oooohhhh yeaaaaaah), let's talk about the other part of my two-pronged approach to getting healthy.

And I'm not talking lipo (this time). It's exercise, sillies! I went to Water Aerobics, and I have to be honest - Alena didn't work us hard enough. On the upside, I ran into my neighbor there. And she has lost a ton of weight. I wanted to ask lots of questions - but she was still wrapped in a towel in the locker room. But I've decided, from now on, I need to follow up my 8AM Aqua with the 9:30AM Zumba. No excuses.

And I need to step it up. I know this. I did take my beast for a walk after I got home. Only a few minutes, but I enjoyed checking out the neighborhood on the cusp of Spring.

I dropped Lola off and spent the rest of the afternoon finding costumes with Matt. We're going to an 80's party next weekend. I was able to score a acid-washed jean skirt and a hot pink blazer. Matt found the hat, shirt and assorted props he'll need for his ensemble, and we're close to where we need to be.

It's good, it's all good.

Tomorrow, an ass-kicking Zumba at Maryland Farms Y. Unless I find something else to kill me softly. Even though I want a harder workout, my ankles and knees have their limits.

Sweet Dreams - don't forget to Spring Forward.

Sincerely,
me

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Whoomp, there it is.

Well, it was bound to happen, and it did. I had a gain this week, albeit tiny. I'm up two-tenths of a pound. Or, let's say one-fifth and reduce the fraction.

And friends, the fraction is the only thing this week that reduced.

I'm honestly devastated, and I don't really have any reason to be - I'm still down 17.8 pounds in nine weeks. That's... great. Until you ask about my male friends and their ever shrinking selves. We're at least amusing ourselves with plots of sabotage.

But I'm down about it.

I came home, ate a reasonable dinner - leftover red beans, hold the rice.

YUM.

Now for a little FF pudding, and tomorrow is another day.

This week, no Pop Chips, lower salt and less whining.

Although, whining probably burns calories.

Friday, one of my favorite colleagues, Susan, is leaving the company. She's a strong, smart woman, and the company will be less without her. She's the person who recommended my new awesome salon. Great haircuts, less nonsense and $15 cheaper.

But the word on the street is that they're having cake for her. Ohhh, cake. Cake how I miss you. I'll resist, because I can and because I have to.

And that should be my biggest challenge of the week, really.

I know I shouldn't beat myself up, but I keep wondering if I could have had a different outcome...

If I'd purged, or eaten newspaper, or something.

Whatever. This is a new way of living, and not every week can be a four pound loss.

And just think what would have happened if I'd caved on pizza, cake, beer and bar food.

Of course, a small sick part of me thinks - maybe I didn't eat enough.

Right.

ae

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

More, more, more....

Today is Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday for those of you who don't speak frog.

I was really jonesing for cake today. King's Cake, sure - but really, any cake - or bear claws, or doughmuts. Cinnamon rolls.

I ate right, though - small breakfast, healthy lunch, fruit, fruit, veggies... and for dinner, a healthy version of Red Beans and Rice. With chicken andouille sausage. Which I tracked and portioned sensibly.

I want more.

I want pimiento cheese on crappy, nutritionally-bereft white bread, a bag of Cheetos, a chocolate milk and some warm pound cake. Oh, and bacon. I want bacon. Basically, I want fat, salt, sugar and white flour in vast quantities.

But.

I'm once again concerned that I'll weigh in with a gain this week. After such a heady, freaktastic weigh-in last week, it would serve me right. But I was totally good this week. I ate within points, I exercised, I drank water. I said no to pizza, pastries and bar food.

And I didn't get a King's Cake.

But, I feel good, and I got raves from near-strangers at Zumba last night.

And isn't that sweeter and more satisfying that pound cake?

No.

But, OK. I will survive.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Cheesecake, of a sort.


So, as I believe I’ve mentioned, part of my desire to do well on this whole healthy journey is because, at the moment, we’re engaged in a challenge at work – a Fitness Challenge.  And the winners could, if they play it right, get some money.  Well, my two male colleagues, C and P are basically melting away, and it pisses me off.  They’ve also basically decided to hone in one each other as their primary competitor.

They’ve talked about sabotaging each other, but today, P brought it up a notch.  Here are two photos he sent to C and copied me on:



Nice.

ae

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Dig this...

This weekend has been a challenge, in terms of food and whatnot.

It thus far appears that I was able to hydrate and divest of the sodium overload from our Friday night Soy Extravaganza.  

I did go to my Saturday morning Water Aerobics class, and great luck - the regular teacher wasn't there.  Her sub was a woman named either Kelly or Julie - I can't ever hear in the pool because the acoustics are crap.  But KelJulie is this tiny little triathletic looking woman who constantly barks out directions and pushes us through the hour.  She is not into idle chatter, and honestly, she's great.  The little old ladies who come and want to gossip get a little riled, but so be it.

Also, there's this one lady who's there every week and seems to be hell-bent on not getting her hair wet.  Really?  Either get a bathing cap or try Yoga.  Because you're cheating yourself, and it really makes me want splash you.  Plus, you don't really have a cute hairstyle you're preserving or anything.  And while the cut of your swimsuit is fine, the beige/gray color combo washes you out.  Not flattering.

So, I did housework, all that good stuff, and Saturday night rolled around.  Matt decided he wanted pizza - well he's flat worn out, and it meant not cooking, so I planned for it.  And then I got a message from an old high school/college friend wanting to meet up.  Matt was out, but I figured why not?  So Matt got his Mellow Mushroom House Pie (OMFG, it smelled like heaven), and I got to leave the house and not be around it.

I ate a small, less damaging dinner before I left, and when I got to the bar, I drank Diet Coke and didn't even glance at the cheese fries, hot wings, nachos or burgers on the menu.  My friend had a Beam and Coke and cheeseburger.  I wasn't even jealous.  I just amused him with a few stories of my life in Nashville, caught up on his life in Atlanta, and I left.  Actually, he was kind of quiet, so I burned a lot calories playing jester.  Damn, it's exhausting to be amusing!

Since I had enough PointsPlus(tm) left over, I had a Morningstar Tofu Corn Dog - and it was delicious.

I didn't even pick a stray olive out of the pizza box.

I didn't succumb to the pizza at breakfast, either.

And that brings me to this afternoon.  My husband has a cousin whose daughter is in grad school here - she and her Mom (who was in town for the weekend) invited us to meet up at Fido, coffee shop of coffee shops for a little get together.  Well, Fido has not only some lovely coffee drinks - The Milk Bone, The Rolo(ver), The Pink Poodle - but they have better than average pastries.  Today, I passed up a handful of layer cakes, cheesecakes and cookies, and settled on a non-fat latte.  With Splenda.   My companions put together may weigh what I do, solo.   They had some sort of caramelly, macchiato-y drink and a cookie.  Jealous, but victorious.

I came home and had a light dinner, and I have some points left.  Matt has some ice cream in the freezer - half-fat.  I don't know - it's coffee/brownie... I may do better to eat a pudding and walk away.

Irma, whose real name I may reveal some day after my harsh words over her cat sweaters die down, said the other week that having food issues is like having a tiger in a cage that you have to take out and walk three times a day.

Or more.

But I'd say I handled my tiger this weekend.

And with that, I'm going to have my last points of the day and call it a night.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Do the tighten up...

So, for dinner, I followed a recipe I found online (ok, ok - The Pioneer Woman, dammit), and I may have gone a little heavy on the soy sauce... How do I know?  My rings aren't sliding around like they have been.  Salt is the new sugar, but I need to watch it.

And that means tomorrow, I need to hydrate like it's going out of style.  No point in pushing fluids now and staying up to pee all night.  Recreational peeing ain't what it used to be.

I'm planning to head over to the Y tomorrow for some recreational water aerobics.  I could, if so inclined, stay and double up - Zumba with Lorenza.  I get annoyed with her classes though.  Too crowded, too cutthroat, and frankly, more basketball warm-up drills than dance.  I need to find more classes.

Meanwhile, I cannot breathe out of my right nostril.  I might want to grab my neti pot and waterboard for a few minutes.  Maybe I can divest of some salt that way, too.

Given that it's Friday, another week has come and gone in the office.  I had my lunch with the boss, trained a few customers and mostly kept my head down.

I also read an article of office etiquette that said wearing headphones was a no-no.  I've put mine in the drawer, and it's just as well, honestly.  I don't think that Pandora is giving me what I need, musically, and that ends up making me more agitated that anything.  And I think we all know, agitation is the last thing I need.

Because let's face it, medicating with sugar is out, and clearly, woman cannot live on soy sauce alone.  Or, at all.

And finally... something is in the air, and it's making my nose feel like it's full of live caterpillars.

Actually, I kind feel like I have live caterpillars crawling over my nerves.

On the upside, I stopped at Dunkin this morning for iced coffee with skim, and I did not even entertain the thought of getting a doughnut.  They didn't smell good, they weren't in any way appealing.

But I could go for some hot wings.  And a bowl of mashed potatoes.  And some mac and cheese.

Really, though - the diet's going great.

And so, we march forth, on March 4th.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Good Luck on Your Incredible Journey!


So, last night's weigh-in was good.  How good?  Good.  Four pounds good.  And I couldn’t tell you how, but I can’t complain.  I got a haircut – maybe my curls weighed more than we knew.

Anyway, as we’re waiting for the meeting to start, several of the women started talking about At-Work meetings and how their weight loss was too personal to share with co-workers.

And you know, circa 2001, I’d have agreed whole-heartedly.  I told very few people what I was doing, and I cringed when my mother told me she’d mentioned it to someone. 

But let’s fast-forward a decade, shall we?

One of the nicest things about being 36 is that I’ve stopped worrying so much about what other people think.  And let’s be honest, even when I did care, it was far less than the national average.

So, when I started WW this time, I told basically everybody.  My husband, my family, my friends, my co-workers…   and here’s the interesting thing; people care.  They honestly do.  It’s not like anyone is surprised that I started weight-loss program.  And nobody is cruel (or clever) enough to say, “Well it’s about damn time, Fatty McLardlestein!”

But they want me to succeed.  And that does surprise me.  Not because I expected them to want me to fail, but because I didn’t expect anything.  What I’m learning, though – is that if you expect nothing, then anything above that is a pleasant surprise.   Now in fact, what blows my mind even more is that the guys in the office are as supportive as the ladies.  Which proves to me that we’re all insecure.

And that I’m not the only person who ever self-medicated with raw cookie dough.   And that most of us want some plastic surgery down the road.  And that everyone has things they avoid doing because of how they feel about their bodies.

Of course, it’s not time to rest on my laurels.  I need to get up, get moving and stay the course.  A thousand points of light.

Eighteen and life to go.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

"Leave it to Beaver"

So, more than once in the past few weeks, the topic of hair "down there" has come to the forefront (heh).

And, you know me - I'm down with OPP.  Yeah, you know me.

So, here's what happened.  We were at a party, with several people I work with, and we got on the topic of bathroom etiquette, when one of the guests went on a mini-rant about hairs left on the seat. This devolved into a discussion on acceptable amounts of hair, the maintenance techniques thereof, and a sampling of opinions on how much muff is enuff.

I'm a member of a silent minority on this matter.  My feeling is, as long as you don't have sideburns creeping out of your bathing suit, you're good to go with whatever works for you.  I've never waxed, and I don't plan to.  My landscaping methods are either Nair or a razor, and as to aesthetic, I don't want to look like a 10 year-old-girl in my nether regions.  And for that matter, I never wanted to be with a guy who wants that for me - or himself.   In fact, I kind of like the 70s Porno Look.  There, I said it.

Luckily, I have a husband who agrees with me on both points and so it has never been an issue.

I had kind of forgotten about this until a High School classmate of mine posted on Facebook this morning, wondering why it's the women who shouldn't parade naked in the locker room at the Y who are most likely to do just that.

Well, I'm "guilty".  Ok, I don't parade, but I'm going to peel off my bathing suit and rinse it while wrapped in a towel, then put it in the salad spinner thingy that centrifuges all the water out of it.  And because it's convenient, I'm going to do that before I get dressed.  And I'm not going to lock myself in a bathroom stall to put clothes on.

I replied to her that if I was a cautionary tale to the Vandy and Belmont coeds, so be it.

She then mentioned needing to take a weed wacker with her next time.

So, yeah.  People seem to have a real problem with "fun fur".

But I'm still not waxing and I'm not going to hide in a corner of the locker room after Water Aerobics just because my lady garden runs wild and I have a big, pale gut.

Also, I said ovaries in front of my new boss and her boss at lunch today.

Live fearlessly.  Walk naked in the locker room.  And be hairy, damn it.