I signed up for Farrell's Extreme Body shaping last week. It's an exercise and nutrition program that is INTENSE. It lasts ten weeks. There are six days of exercise a week, with a free day on Sundays/ The results I have seen is the main reason I signed up. And let me just tell you, if I make it through the next ten weeks, I will have survived the biggest war on weight loss I have ever declared.
The testing was this past Saturday and my first class was yesterday. I could barely move this morning. But, I took a bunch of Advil and showed up to my class tonight. Right now, my lower body is SCREAMING at me. My abs, my thighs, my calves, and my ass are so pissed at me, they are attempting to remove themselves from my torso in the most painful way possible.
But I will show up to class tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And every damn day I am required to be there. Because this program is expensive. And the results are extraordinary. And I am damn sick and tired of being fat and out of shape.
Now, if I can just get the nutrition part of it down, I will have it in the bag. It's confusing, what I can and can't eat. So, I think I may just go back to the 17 day diet. That was working for me and, combined with this exercise regime, I plan on looking at a really hot Kama in ten weeks.
Watch me shrink.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
He wonders why I call him Prince Charming
I just had an interesting text conversation with my hubby.
Me: I think I want to sign up for the next 10 week challenge with Farrells.
Prince Charming: ok
Me: wait . . . really?
PC: if you promise to commit 100%, no excuses - yes, really.
Me: but, it's really expensive
PC: yeah. so you better be committed.
Me: really?
At this point, you should probably start filling out your nominations for my husband's sainthood application.
PC: Yes. really. Take the checkbook and get it done punk ass.
So, maybe just a really minor sainthood would be ok. I mean, saints don't call their wives punk ass, do they? Wait . . . . do saints even have wives? Are they allowed to get married? Poor saints.
Me: Ok, I called and had to leave a message for them to call me back. I mean, I don't even know if they have room for me and I will probably not even pass the test to get into the program andit's really a lot of money and what if I don't do well and I think I am hyperventilating.
\
PC: you can do this, babe. I believe in you. You are going to be fine. Don't they have a $1k prize if you win or something at the end?
Me: more hyperventilating here.
PC: You can keep every penny of it WHEN you win.
I love this man. He just gave me almost $400 to join a ten week intensive exercise program. And by intensive, I mean even fit people who exercise all of the time have trouble moving the first few weeks. I may die, but at least my headstone can say "she tried". So, yeah, just waiting to get a phone call and then I am totally signing up for the biggest beating my body will ever have been through. Willingly.
That mother trucking scale better not disappoint me.
If you're wondering if they have a Farrell's near you (or are just wondering what the deal is about the program), check out their site: http://www.extremebodyshaping.com/
Me: I think I want to sign up for the next 10 week challenge with Farrells.
Prince Charming: ok
Me: wait . . . really?
PC: if you promise to commit 100%, no excuses - yes, really.
Me: but, it's really expensive
PC: yeah. so you better be committed.
Me: really?
At this point, you should probably start filling out your nominations for my husband's sainthood application.
PC: Yes. really. Take the checkbook and get it done punk ass.
So, maybe just a really minor sainthood would be ok. I mean, saints don't call their wives punk ass, do they? Wait . . . . do saints even have wives? Are they allowed to get married? Poor saints.
Me: Ok, I called and had to leave a message for them to call me back. I mean, I don't even know if they have room for me and I will probably not even pass the test to get into the program andit's really a lot of money and what if I don't do well and I think I am hyperventilating.
\
PC: you can do this, babe. I believe in you. You are going to be fine. Don't they have a $1k prize if you win or something at the end?
Me: more hyperventilating here.
PC: You can keep every penny of it WHEN you win.
I love this man. He just gave me almost $400 to join a ten week intensive exercise program. And by intensive, I mean even fit people who exercise all of the time have trouble moving the first few weeks. I may die, but at least my headstone can say "she tried". So, yeah, just waiting to get a phone call and then I am totally signing up for the biggest beating my body will ever have been through. Willingly.
That mother trucking scale better not disappoint me.
If you're wondering if they have a Farrell's near you (or are just wondering what the deal is about the program), check out their site: http://www.extremebodyshaping.com/
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Slacker
I know I have been slacking on keeping up on this blog. I also know you are majorly surprised by this fact. (insert sarcastic chuckle here).
What you should know, and should be damn proud of, is that I have NOT been slacking on my weight loss. I have kept up with exercising. I even started a new diet. And it is amaaaaaaaaaaazing grace. No, seriously, it's the end all, beat all, wonder of wonders of all diets. I love it.
What I love more?
Yup, in laymen's terms, this diet works . . . if you follow it to the letter. I don't care what people say about this part of the diet seeming shady or that part of the diet not being quite right. Here's what I know: the diet was created by a doctor and based off of the South Beach Diet (which I have successfully used in the past). This doctor is an actual MD. I looked up his credentials. They are real. I figure he kind of knows what he is talking about. He gives this diet to his patients. He actually exercises with his patients. And there are lots of success stories all over the internet of people losing weight and keeping it off for YEARS with this diet.
Of course, there are also lots of people dissing the program, saying it doesn't work, it's a modified South Beach, etc, etc, etc. Well, I tried it. I followed it to the letter. I am the kind of person that needs things spelled out. A "this is what you will eat at this meal on this day" kind of deal. And this diet has that for those that need it. For those that don't need it, there are guidelines and lists of foods allowed in each cycle. And I don't care how similar to the South Beach diet it is, this diet gave me what I needed. Namely: a 24 pound weight loss in 7 days.
Yes, you read that correctly. 24 pounds in 7 days.
Is that right? Yes. 24 pounds in 7 days. Will you see the same results? Maybe. But remember, I have a LOT more weight to lose than your average person. I am extremely obese. I hit my highest weight ever on December 31, 2011. I weighed even more than I did at 9 months pregnant with my youngest son, who was 11 pounds at birth. I was humiliated and destroyed by the scale's numbers. I am still humiliated and won't say what those numbers are, but I can tell you that I am closer to getting under 300 pounds than I have been in years. And I can't tell you how happy I am about that.
24 pounds in 7 days.
Is it water weight? Probably. But, you know what? That water weight has been weighing my scale (and ME!) down for years now. It's not showing up on the scale any more. And that does two things: first, it makes me ecstatically happy and I tend to jump around saying things like "booyah, baby - fifty pounds this year, bitches!" and other rather inane and childish things that make me giddy and happy and smile with a huge toothy grin. Secondly, like the good doctor says - water weight is just as bad for you as fatty weight. And now it's gone. gone. gone.
And, in case you missed it - yes, I have lost a grand total of fifty pounds since January 1. Not only that, but I reached my goal/resolution to lose fifty pounds by my wedding anniversary (which happens on June 30th).
New goal? Ten more pounds before my wedding anniversary. Can I do it? Last week, I would have said no. This week - I say I bet I do another 20.
So, you may not hear from me for weeks on end. I may not post for months and months. But that doesn't mean I haven't been busy. I have been . . . busy losing weight.
OH! And for those of you curious as to what diet has given me these amazing results? The 17 Day Diet by Dr. Mike Moreno. Get both the diet book and the cookbook. And then watch yourself disappear. As another side note, I will mention that I have NOT been feeding my kids anything different than what I am eating. I do add more carbs for them (like bread/tortillas/brown rice), because they are growing boys and need those. But, otherwise, they eat what I eat. And they LOVE it. I have never gotten more compliments on my meals than I do with these. And they don't seem to be as hungry throughout the day as they usually are, insisting on a snack every twenty minutes. Instead, they eat about every two or three hours, like I do. So maybe this healthy eating plan isn't just good for me. Seems it's good for my family, as well.
Finally . . . . .
fifty pounds, cha cha cha
fifty pounds boooooooyah!
(I like to shake my booty, grin like a madwoman, and wave my arms around as I spin in a circle and sing this, lol)
What you should know, and should be damn proud of, is that I have NOT been slacking on my weight loss. I have kept up with exercising. I even started a new diet. And it is amaaaaaaaaaaazing grace. No, seriously, it's the end all, beat all, wonder of wonders of all diets. I love it.
What I love more?
The results.
Yup, in laymen's terms, this diet works . . . if you follow it to the letter. I don't care what people say about this part of the diet seeming shady or that part of the diet not being quite right. Here's what I know: the diet was created by a doctor and based off of the South Beach Diet (which I have successfully used in the past). This doctor is an actual MD. I looked up his credentials. They are real. I figure he kind of knows what he is talking about. He gives this diet to his patients. He actually exercises with his patients. And there are lots of success stories all over the internet of people losing weight and keeping it off for YEARS with this diet.
Of course, there are also lots of people dissing the program, saying it doesn't work, it's a modified South Beach, etc, etc, etc. Well, I tried it. I followed it to the letter. I am the kind of person that needs things spelled out. A "this is what you will eat at this meal on this day" kind of deal. And this diet has that for those that need it. For those that don't need it, there are guidelines and lists of foods allowed in each cycle. And I don't care how similar to the South Beach diet it is, this diet gave me what I needed. Namely: a 24 pound weight loss in 7 days.
Yes, you read that correctly. 24 pounds in 7 days.
Is that right? Yes. 24 pounds in 7 days. Will you see the same results? Maybe. But remember, I have a LOT more weight to lose than your average person. I am extremely obese. I hit my highest weight ever on December 31, 2011. I weighed even more than I did at 9 months pregnant with my youngest son, who was 11 pounds at birth. I was humiliated and destroyed by the scale's numbers. I am still humiliated and won't say what those numbers are, but I can tell you that I am closer to getting under 300 pounds than I have been in years. And I can't tell you how happy I am about that.
24 pounds in 7 days.
Is it water weight? Probably. But, you know what? That water weight has been weighing my scale (and ME!) down for years now. It's not showing up on the scale any more. And that does two things: first, it makes me ecstatically happy and I tend to jump around saying things like "booyah, baby - fifty pounds this year, bitches!" and other rather inane and childish things that make me giddy and happy and smile with a huge toothy grin. Secondly, like the good doctor says - water weight is just as bad for you as fatty weight. And now it's gone. gone. gone.
And, in case you missed it - yes, I have lost a grand total of fifty pounds since January 1. Not only that, but I reached my goal/resolution to lose fifty pounds by my wedding anniversary (which happens on June 30th).
New goal? Ten more pounds before my wedding anniversary. Can I do it? Last week, I would have said no. This week - I say I bet I do another 20.
So, you may not hear from me for weeks on end. I may not post for months and months. But that doesn't mean I haven't been busy. I have been . . . busy losing weight.
OH! And for those of you curious as to what diet has given me these amazing results? The 17 Day Diet by Dr. Mike Moreno. Get both the diet book and the cookbook. And then watch yourself disappear. As another side note, I will mention that I have NOT been feeding my kids anything different than what I am eating. I do add more carbs for them (like bread/tortillas/brown rice), because they are growing boys and need those. But, otherwise, they eat what I eat. And they LOVE it. I have never gotten more compliments on my meals than I do with these. And they don't seem to be as hungry throughout the day as they usually are, insisting on a snack every twenty minutes. Instead, they eat about every two or three hours, like I do. So maybe this healthy eating plan isn't just good for me. Seems it's good for my family, as well.
Finally . . . . .
fifty pounds, cha cha cha
fifty pounds boooooooyah!
(I like to shake my booty, grin like a madwoman, and wave my arms around as I spin in a circle and sing this, lol)
Monday, April 30, 2012
ERGHHHHH
The title? That's my self confidence choking.
I've done pretty well with the challenge thus far, getting in at least 30 minutes of exercise every day. Well, not Saturday, but I made up for it on Sunday. (Little humorous side note here, I often mistype Sunday as Sinday. Coincidence? probably not.) This weekend was BUSY for me. Not only did I have to work, but I had my boys home for a four day weekend. Which means my sleep deprivation increases. And, while I am normally a bit of an insomniac, going from around 4 hours of sleep a night to, um, none, is brutal. So, Saturday my butt was officially kicked and I had other family things going on and I just didn't make it to the gym. I made up for it Sunday.
And then there was tonight. Prince Charming tells me to go first. He wants to work out extra hard tonight with the weights in addition to his running. It was totally fine with me. I got all suited up (and by that, I mean, I took my jeans off and replaced them with my ratty gray yoga pants and then changed my sweater for a bright pink t-shirt. Trust me, it's a hot look. If you're going for that whole overweight eyesore kind of thing), got my gear (kindle, ipod, phone) all gathered together and headed for the gym. When I pulled in and saw the parking lot full of large, souped up trucks that may or may not be symbols of something they are trying to replace in life (see me judging here? No? Look closer. I am. It's how I know they are doing the same thing when they see me in my cute little soccer mom SUV and my huge ass jiggling eyesore outfit wearing horror when I walk in - trust me - it happens), I got a little nervous. I know these trucks. And I know who drives them. ugh.
I pulled into a parking space and peered through the huge plate glass windows (and seriously, people - WHY do gyms have to have huge plate glass windows? Some people may enjoy the world watching them work out. Most people would prefer to keep that kind of thing private. Well, as private as going to a public gym to meet and defend and conquer your inner demons can be. Look, just let me sweat tears of blood and fat in my solitary corner over here. Facing the wall. The entire town doesn't need to know how brutal and unattractive I look while doing it. So - if any of you are planning on building gyms in the future - just a quick note - no plate glass widows.) So anyway, I was staring into these huge windows to the soul and I saw that yes, in fact, the owners of said trucks were, indeed, there instead of the overweight ugly wives, elderly spinster aunts, or, perhaps even a bloated, blind cousin as I had hoped had borrowed the trucks for a "Try it out at Tryon Gym" kind of evening.
Damn.
Instead, I saw the overly muscled grunter guys I often see there. You know the type. They wear ripped t-shirts to better display the obscene amounts of muscles that ripple as they move. The challenge each other on who can lift the most weight. They slap each other on the rear end and grunt and make a lot of noise as they work out. They sweat, they swear, and they . . . . stare. Usually, they come in twos or threes. It's uncomfortable and I hate it, but I try to ignore them and go to my solitary little corner for my work out. Tonight - they had come in full pack. Nine trucks in the parking lot. Twelve guys with too many muscles and too much spare time between sets to observe and silently mock the fatty in the corner were in the gym.
Double Damn.
My self confidence choked. I'm not going to make an excuse. I'm not even going to feel bad about it. If you are as large and jiggly as I am, you would have done the same damn thing I did. And that is: you text your husband. Explain the sitch. And then hightail your ass back home.
Prince Charming often asks why I call him that. He doesn't see what I see. He thinks all of his princely charming characteristics that make him my Prince Charming are in my head. But, if you know him or ever meet him, you will agree - I married an really awesome guy. When I got home, he met me at the door, all dressed and ready for his work out. He kissed me on the forehead, told me he loved me and then said - "I'll go first and scare the big bad wolves away. When I get back, you can go. It should be empty by then. And, if it's not, don't use the gym. Take Crazy Chloe for a walk around town. I'll stay awake until you get home, whatever you decide." No judging. No censure. Just acceptance of my freakishly odd phobia of being watched and judged by fit people while I work out and a smooch on the forehead. I love him.
And when he got back, he told me he had kept his promise and slayed my dragons. Ok, really he just said they were gone and the gym was empty now. And then he told me he loved me and he knew I was stronger than letting a simple little thing as, and I quote, "some jocked up meatheads chase you away from your dream". Did I mention that I love him?
So, I went. And while I worked out, I discovered several things about myself. First and foremost, a thing of which I am most proud - I can "run" a mile on the elliptical. My body hates me right now, but I did it. Secondly, Prince Charming is right. This is MY dream and I AM stronger than those jocked up meatheads. Or, I will be. In another fifty pounds or so. Probably more like 100, but we'll take it pound by pound. Until then, the third thing I learned is that I am a middle of the night working out kind of girl if I can't make the gym while my boys are in school or, like today, there is no school. And so, until I feel ready to slay dragons on my own, I will continue to let my Prince Charming do it for me. And then scamper in behind him for my own private dragon slaying.
I've done pretty well with the challenge thus far, getting in at least 30 minutes of exercise every day. Well, not Saturday, but I made up for it on Sunday. (Little humorous side note here, I often mistype Sunday as Sinday. Coincidence? probably not.) This weekend was BUSY for me. Not only did I have to work, but I had my boys home for a four day weekend. Which means my sleep deprivation increases. And, while I am normally a bit of an insomniac, going from around 4 hours of sleep a night to, um, none, is brutal. So, Saturday my butt was officially kicked and I had other family things going on and I just didn't make it to the gym. I made up for it Sunday.
And then there was tonight. Prince Charming tells me to go first. He wants to work out extra hard tonight with the weights in addition to his running. It was totally fine with me. I got all suited up (and by that, I mean, I took my jeans off and replaced them with my ratty gray yoga pants and then changed my sweater for a bright pink t-shirt. Trust me, it's a hot look. If you're going for that whole overweight eyesore kind of thing), got my gear (kindle, ipod, phone) all gathered together and headed for the gym. When I pulled in and saw the parking lot full of large, souped up trucks that may or may not be symbols of something they are trying to replace in life (see me judging here? No? Look closer. I am. It's how I know they are doing the same thing when they see me in my cute little soccer mom SUV and my huge ass jiggling eyesore outfit wearing horror when I walk in - trust me - it happens), I got a little nervous. I know these trucks. And I know who drives them. ugh.
I pulled into a parking space and peered through the huge plate glass windows (and seriously, people - WHY do gyms have to have huge plate glass windows? Some people may enjoy the world watching them work out. Most people would prefer to keep that kind of thing private. Well, as private as going to a public gym to meet and defend and conquer your inner demons can be. Look, just let me sweat tears of blood and fat in my solitary corner over here. Facing the wall. The entire town doesn't need to know how brutal and unattractive I look while doing it. So - if any of you are planning on building gyms in the future - just a quick note - no plate glass widows.) So anyway, I was staring into these huge windows to the soul and I saw that yes, in fact, the owners of said trucks were, indeed, there instead of the overweight ugly wives, elderly spinster aunts, or, perhaps even a bloated, blind cousin as I had hoped had borrowed the trucks for a "Try it out at Tryon Gym" kind of evening.
Damn.
Instead, I saw the overly muscled grunter guys I often see there. You know the type. They wear ripped t-shirts to better display the obscene amounts of muscles that ripple as they move. The challenge each other on who can lift the most weight. They slap each other on the rear end and grunt and make a lot of noise as they work out. They sweat, they swear, and they . . . . stare. Usually, they come in twos or threes. It's uncomfortable and I hate it, but I try to ignore them and go to my solitary little corner for my work out. Tonight - they had come in full pack. Nine trucks in the parking lot. Twelve guys with too many muscles and too much spare time between sets to observe and silently mock the fatty in the corner were in the gym.
Double Damn.
My self confidence choked. I'm not going to make an excuse. I'm not even going to feel bad about it. If you are as large and jiggly as I am, you would have done the same damn thing I did. And that is: you text your husband. Explain the sitch. And then hightail your ass back home.
Prince Charming often asks why I call him that. He doesn't see what I see. He thinks all of his princely charming characteristics that make him my Prince Charming are in my head. But, if you know him or ever meet him, you will agree - I married an really awesome guy. When I got home, he met me at the door, all dressed and ready for his work out. He kissed me on the forehead, told me he loved me and then said - "I'll go first and scare the big bad wolves away. When I get back, you can go. It should be empty by then. And, if it's not, don't use the gym. Take Crazy Chloe for a walk around town. I'll stay awake until you get home, whatever you decide." No judging. No censure. Just acceptance of my freakishly odd phobia of being watched and judged by fit people while I work out and a smooch on the forehead. I love him.
And when he got back, he told me he had kept his promise and slayed my dragons. Ok, really he just said they were gone and the gym was empty now. And then he told me he loved me and he knew I was stronger than letting a simple little thing as, and I quote, "some jocked up meatheads chase you away from your dream". Did I mention that I love him?
So, I went. And while I worked out, I discovered several things about myself. First and foremost, a thing of which I am most proud - I can "run" a mile on the elliptical. My body hates me right now, but I did it. Secondly, Prince Charming is right. This is MY dream and I AM stronger than those jocked up meatheads. Or, I will be. In another fifty pounds or so. Probably more like 100, but we'll take it pound by pound. Until then, the third thing I learned is that I am a middle of the night working out kind of girl if I can't make the gym while my boys are in school or, like today, there is no school. And so, until I feel ready to slay dragons on my own, I will continue to let my Prince Charming do it for me. And then scamper in behind him for my own private dragon slaying.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Motivation Required
I really suck at this blogging thing. And the losing weight thing. And the exercise thing. Especially the exercise thing.
So, here I am, like 3 months after my last post, updating that no, the scale has not moved much (well, it moves up and up and down again, but I am pretty much at the same weight I was at the point of my last post) and yes, I am frustrated at my lack of commitment. This is supposed to be my year, the year I finally get this weight off. It WILL be my year!
My problem isn't that I eat too much. It isn't even that I eat bad foods. My problem is exercise right now. I hate to be hot. I hate to sweat. I hate, hate, hate moving in ways that makes my body jiggle in mortifying the public can see my body jiggling ways. I have a gym membership I never use. It's nice enough out I could even walk the dog around the block. But I don't. Jeebus, I am so frustrated with myself.
I realize it's a problem, this lack of commitment/no desire whatsoever to exercise kind of problem. I need to just get over it. But the problem is HOW do I get over it? HOW do I focus on my insecurities, smooth them over and get my fat ass moving. It doesn't have to be in the gym, I just need to freaking MOVE. I was reading a few articles this morning. Ironically, the articles were filled with low GI crock pot recipes I have been thinking about trying and NOT about exercise. I stumbled across this blog and came up with a brilliant plan. That blog is a little too religious for my tastes, so I really just skimmed through it briefly (because it was going to make my eyes bleed with all the Praise Jesusing) to get the basics. And then I had a light bulb moment.
I don't need to wait until the New Year to start this. I don't even need a partner in crime, though it would help me with my accountability. And so . . . I have challenged my husband. And, I challenge anyone who decides to read this, whether you read it today or ten years from now.
The challenge?
For the next thirty days, I will exercise every. single. day. Not just a simple going up and down the stairs hauling laundry kind of exercise, either. Oh no. This challenge involves the actual breaking of sweat. Getting up off my ass and out of the house kind of exercise. Raising my heart rate and keeping it there for at least thirty minutes every day. Someone, namely Prince Charming, will have to actually see me red in the face, body fat jiggling, sweat dripping disgustingly off my chin to prove I completed the daily challenge. And, if I make it the thirty days, I am going to keep extending it to another thirty. I hope to blog about how it goes every day. But, well, let's be honest. I don't have a great track record here. The challenge starts today.
Oh yeah - the consequences. Besides remaining fat, uncomfortable, and miserable forever and ever, for any day that I FAIL to meet the challenge, I have to do double the time the next day. If I miss two days in a row, then that third day will be brutal exercising for an hour and a half. Each day missed means I have to add on the time to the next time I exercise. It also means I fail the challenge and have to start all over again.
I've never passed a challenge yet. I hope I get through this one. Because my girlfriend is getting married at the end of August. In Vegas. And I have been promised a plane ticket AND $500 party/shopping/gambling money if I can lose fifty pounds by then. Prince Charming lops off $100 for each ten pounds I don't lose to make my goal. I have a lot of work to do.
So, here I am, like 3 months after my last post, updating that no, the scale has not moved much (well, it moves up and up and down again, but I am pretty much at the same weight I was at the point of my last post) and yes, I am frustrated at my lack of commitment. This is supposed to be my year, the year I finally get this weight off. It WILL be my year!
My problem isn't that I eat too much. It isn't even that I eat bad foods. My problem is exercise right now. I hate to be hot. I hate to sweat. I hate, hate, hate moving in ways that makes my body jiggle in mortifying the public can see my body jiggling ways. I have a gym membership I never use. It's nice enough out I could even walk the dog around the block. But I don't. Jeebus, I am so frustrated with myself.
I realize it's a problem, this lack of commitment/no desire whatsoever to exercise kind of problem. I need to just get over it. But the problem is HOW do I get over it? HOW do I focus on my insecurities, smooth them over and get my fat ass moving. It doesn't have to be in the gym, I just need to freaking MOVE. I was reading a few articles this morning. Ironically, the articles were filled with low GI crock pot recipes I have been thinking about trying and NOT about exercise. I stumbled across this blog and came up with a brilliant plan. That blog is a little too religious for my tastes, so I really just skimmed through it briefly (because it was going to make my eyes bleed with all the Praise Jesusing) to get the basics. And then I had a light bulb moment.
I don't need to wait until the New Year to start this. I don't even need a partner in crime, though it would help me with my accountability. And so . . . I have challenged my husband. And, I challenge anyone who decides to read this, whether you read it today or ten years from now.
The challenge?
For the next thirty days, I will exercise every. single. day. Not just a simple going up and down the stairs hauling laundry kind of exercise, either. Oh no. This challenge involves the actual breaking of sweat. Getting up off my ass and out of the house kind of exercise. Raising my heart rate and keeping it there for at least thirty minutes every day. Someone, namely Prince Charming, will have to actually see me red in the face, body fat jiggling, sweat dripping disgustingly off my chin to prove I completed the daily challenge. And, if I make it the thirty days, I am going to keep extending it to another thirty. I hope to blog about how it goes every day. But, well, let's be honest. I don't have a great track record here. The challenge starts today.
Oh yeah - the consequences. Besides remaining fat, uncomfortable, and miserable forever and ever, for any day that I FAIL to meet the challenge, I have to do double the time the next day. If I miss two days in a row, then that third day will be brutal exercising for an hour and a half. Each day missed means I have to add on the time to the next time I exercise. It also means I fail the challenge and have to start all over again.
I've never passed a challenge yet. I hope I get through this one. Because my girlfriend is getting married at the end of August. In Vegas. And I have been promised a plane ticket AND $500 party/shopping/gambling money if I can lose fifty pounds by then. Prince Charming lops off $100 for each ten pounds I don't lose to make my goal. I have a lot of work to do.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Delicious
I just made the MOST DELICIOUS sandwich spread evah.
Fun fact: there are 57 calories in 1 tbsp of mayonnaise. And they aren't good calories, either. But mayo is nummy and it makes your sandwiches palatable, right?
I REALLY wanted a ham sandwich today. I today is my high calorie day (I am working with an adjustable caloric intake diet right now - a few days high calorie, a few medium calorie, a few very low calorie - trying to fool my body into burning more during those medium and low calorie days. It's working, so I am sticking to it.) Anyway - I digress.
It's a high calorie day. I wanted a ham sandwich like nothing else, but I wanted to try and make it a bit healthier. more vitamins and goodness, rather than all that processed crap between a couple of pieces of bread.
I have a bowl full of avocados in my kitchen. I ADORE avocados. If you don't like them, this isn't a recipe for you (and frankly, what is WRONG with you??? Avocados are pure deliciousness!) So, I took an avocado and thought . . . why can't I make this into something for my sammy? And I did. And it was sooooooo good, I could have just eaten that for lunch. But, I resisted, and just used a tablespoon of it on the bread and had simply the most amazing sandwich I have had in a very long time.
I will definitely be making it again and again. The amount of vitamin C I just boosted my sandwiches with is worth it alone. But the best part?? A TBSP of my spread is only 47 calories. It's only shaving 10 calories off, sure, but those calories add up. And the fact that I made a change in my regular habits is even more amazing. Truly, this week, I am impressing myself.
I uploaded the recipe to sparkpeople. Here's the link: http://recipes.sparkpeople.com/recipe-detail.asp?recipe=1951525
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Weigh In Wednesday
I almost didn't post this today. Because the results are so unbelievable. Because I am still in shock myself. Because I thought no one would believe me.
But then I thought - you know what? I have WORKED for this. Screw the disbelievers. Screw the naysayers and that's impossibles. They don't know what' it's like to be so miserable in your own skin that you would do ANYTHING to feel comfortable again. They don't live my life, they aren't me, and they have NO IDEA how hard this year has been for me in my pursuit for weight loss and a healthier lifestyle. The girl who used to eat fast food a couple of times a DAY on the weekends, and probably once or twice during the week, as well. The girl who drank around 32 ounces of Coke a day. The fat girl who hid her pain and sorrow in processed fats, high sugar snacks, and then drowned them all in butter. And then had a cigarette or five after.
Yeah, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how I got to be as big as I am. But I am changing that. I am still making changes. It's so very hard some days. So screw any of the defeatists and killjoys who will roll their eyes and raise their brows in disbelief, pat the fat girl on the head and say "sure honey, believe what you will".
Because, I DID IT!!
I cut out Coca Cola. I cut WAY down on sugar. I quit eating out every other day. In fact, I quit eating out at all. The one inch piece of birthday cake I had on my son's sixth birthday was the only piece of sugary deliciousness I have had in 18 days. Carbs are virtually non existent in my life these days, unless they come directly from Mother Nature. I have cut my calories to the bare minimum. Sticking with fruits, vegetables, and chicken or tuna.
I haven't been able to weigh myself on the scale at home because I was too fat. When I stepped on it, it flashed ERR at me. So, I have been using my starting weight based off of what I weighed at my last doctor's visit way back in August when I was sick. I added five pounds, because I just know me, and I was being easy on myself. It was probably more like ten. But it's a weight I will NEVER see again.
Why? You ask, with those arched eyebrows and a placating look on your face, ready to appease the chubby chick with a small smile while you inwardly think - yeah right. (and to that, I say - well, see above).
Because guess who stepped on the scale this morning with her heart in her throat and a hope on her lips?
This girl.
And guess who was so shocked, she repeated the process five more times?
This girl.
Guess who has lost 21.1 pounds since January 1???????
That's right . . . .
This girl.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Sleepy Saturday
I had to work last night and again tonight, which means this day is pretty much screwed. At least, that's the shitty excuse I am using right now. Instead of going to the gym, I lazed about in bed all day. But I am not going to make it a habit, I won't let it get me down, and, if Travis was home right now and I had someone to watch my boys, I would be at the gym right now. As it is, I need to shower and get ready for work.
But, I thought I would drop in with a quick update. Diet is going good. I am still keeping in or around 1200 calories a day and definitely no more than 1600. The no smoking thing sucks ass. The thing is, I like to smoke. I like the feeling of inhaling the delicious menthol tang and exhaling the smooth minty flavor. I like the calming feelings after I have a cig, and I like hanging out in the garage, by myself, with a book, smoking.
But, I know it's not healthy. I know all the risks and dangers. I have two small boys who mean the world to me and I know I am their world. The thought of them suffering because of my selfishness is devastating. The idea of leaving my kids in this world without me literally makes my heart race and my breaths come too fast. Who would stick up for them? Who would open their big ass mouth and take on the world for them if even the SLIGHTEST offense is made towards them? Who would snuggle under a heavy blankie for a morning to watch a movie? Who would remember to tell them they are beautiful and perfect and smart and wonderful every. single. day. ?
Yes, yes, I know they have a daddy. And he's an awesome daddy, too. But he's the one they go to for rough housing and putting cool toys together and playing video games and taking them out to fun boy places like the arcade and the race track. He ruffles their hair and calls them dorks, in that affectionate, dad kind of way, and tells him he loves them when he tucks them in at night with a smooch on the forehead and a quick "to the moon and back" before the light gets turned off. But, he's a dad. He gets frustrated easily. He doesn't have a lot of patience. My boys need patience. They need mommy here to tell daddy to go take a chill pill and let the boys be little, because it only happens once and it will be over all too soon.
And so, I quit smoking. And I have been E-V-I-L. I feel evil. I crave a cigarette like nothing else. On my way home from work this morning, I almost stopped at the gas station. For, like the billionth time this week. But, I stuck to my guns. I can do this. I will do this. I have to do this.
Supposedly, I am over the "craving" hump. The thing is, I have quit smoking before. Each time I got pregnant, I quit smoking. I never got over that "craving" hump. I wonder if I ever will?
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Thoughtful Thursday
There, how's that for a gimmick?
So, here's some thoughts on this week.
First, I quit smoking. Right now, I would sell a child for a cigarette right now. For the most part, I have been trying to keep a lid on my mood swings. However, my husband - who I love dearly most days and is really a funny guy who treats me like a queen when I don't really deserve such treatment - is probably going to end up stabbed in the eye with a fork if he doesn't learn to just sit next to me with his mouth closed. His sly smirks, his stupid jokes, his irritating voice when I am in the midst of a nic fit are going to earn him scars. Deep, hideously ugly scars. But, um, yeah, other than that, the whole not smoking thing sucks for me. I was tempted more than ever today to sneak off to the gas station to buy a pack, sneak back home, hide behind the garage and just take a teensy weensy little drag. But I didn't. And some day, I will be happy I didn't. Right now, I am not happy. I just want a damn smoke.
Second, I quit Coca Cola. If you know me, you know I am a caffeine addict and my favorite vice is Coke. I drink, on average, at least 32 ounces a day. And I wonder why I am fat, right? Anyway, I gave up the coke. And anything with caffeine in it, actually. I am surprised to report that I have not had any headaches. Maybe because I am so focused on wanting a cigarette, the physical withdrawals of caffeine haven't effected me yet. Or maybe it's everything else effecting me and the caffeine stuff is just whispers in the wind in comparison. Of course, it could also be that today was day three of all my quits and before I actually murdered a live being within my vicinity, I made myself some iced tea. Which totally screwed over my other quit - I will tell you about that in a minute - but it soothed the nerves. I felt better. And, though it's supposed to be hard work and blah blah blah - I know if I don't give in to myself just a wee bit, not only are people going to get hurt, but I will quit, light up a smoke, fill up a coke and go back to where I was a week ago. So, iced tea, 2 quarts with a quarter cup of sugar mixed into the lot - if that's what it takes to keep me out of jail, well, let's give this girl a break, huh?
Third - I quit refined sugar. No sugar at. all. Until today, that is. But hey, like I said, I don't need bail money, so let's keep this little failure on the DL, mmmkay?
Fourth - I quit carbs. Not all carbs, just the bad white ones that are made in a factory or, maybe they are made in nature, but some idiot factory owner started adding chemicals and washes and dyes to the lot until it no longer resembled food. Those kind of carbs I gave up. the kind found in yummy fruits and veggies are all over the place in my kitchen right now.
Fifth - I started a detox. Yeah, it lasted three days. Besides the heartburn, the gas, the horrible weak, shaky feeling and the mild headache, it went great. I told the detox fairy to go screw herself this morning and made myself that shake you read about earlier. Mama was much happier after that.
And finally - I started to exercise again. In the deepest darkest parts of night, when the gym is completely empty and no one is there to witness my humiliation and shame - I am there, on the elliptical and trying a few of the weight machines. I made it once this week. I would have gone tonight, but I met up with a friend and, with this gorgeous weather we are enjoying, we walked the track behind the school while out kids played on the playground. I lasted 45 minutes and made it 5 times around. Not bad, if I do say so myself. My goal is to make it to the gym tomorrow morning. I have a while blog post prepared for the fears and phobias I have o going during the day. And you will get to see that post, soon probably. Because I have to work tomorrow night, which means, to get a gym spot in, I have to go in the morning.
My heart burn is back.
Try It Thursday
Or something like that. I wanted to dedicate one day a week to a new recipe or exercise and then let you know all about it. I might do it Tuesdays instead, though. Not that it matters, really. It all works out in the end, right?
Okay, so today, I tried this recipe: http://www.chiquitabananas.com/Banana-Recipes/Banana-Oatmeal-Smoothie-recipe.aspx. Basically, it's a banana oatmeal smoothie. BUT, being me, I couldn't leave well enough alone. And I am kind of glad I didn't. I don't think I would have liked the original version as much as I adore my version.
First, I set my blender up and then I added the oatmeal - dry, not cooked because cooked oatmeal makes me squirmy and jittery, it's just that gross.
Then, I threw in a couple of bananas, not over ripe, and I broke them into a few pieces when I threw them in there. Since my third cup was dirty, I used a quarter cup of Yoplait Plain yogurt. Then, I added a few good splashes of vanilla, a teensy (and I mean teensy, more like a drop or two) splash of almond extract.
Now, because I am lazy, I didn't measure the ice. I took a big ole glass from my cupboard, switch the ice machine on my fridge to crushed, and filled the glass up. Then I dumped it into the blender on top of all my other ingredients.
Then I got an inspiration and added some honey. Probably about a tablespoon. I never measure when I create in the kitchen, so everything is always approximate. If you are a die hard have to measure things or you refuse to cook, my modified recipes will drive you insane. Skip them in the future.
Ok, so once I got all that into the blender, I turned it on the highest power and hit pulse. Nothing happened. So, I hit the "run" button. Still nothing. Oh, the blades were going around, but nothing was moving. It was almost as if I had choked the thing up. Or something. Anyway, my instant solution was to add more liquid. So, I grabbed my skim milk and threw in a few splashes while using a butter knife to move the ice further down into the machine. Ran it again, and then hit pulse. That did the trick. After a few pulses of mixing, it was all done. The whole thing more than fills a 32 ounce cup.
It's not the most delicious thing on the planet. However, for the past three days, I have eaten nothing but pickles, cabbage soup, and water. To me, this thing is a little slice of heaven right now. My youngest guy tried it and thought it was "pwetty yummy".
Next time, I think I will add more honey and yogurt and a little less ice. I may even try it with a scoop or two of peanut butter. Or strawberries. This is one of those recipes you can have a little fun playing with and I look forward to playing with it a lot. It will probably become a staple meal in this weight loss journey of mine.
So, I guess that means it's good, huh?
The down and dirty - it took about ten minutes to make. When I entered all of the ingredients I used into the www.myfitnesspal.com recipe builder, it came out to be 435 calories, 101 grams of carbs, 2 grams of fat, 11 grams of protein, 9 grams of fiber, and 56 grams of sugar. Now, while that might seem like a lot of calories, if you are restricting yourself to a 1200 calorie diet like I am, I can say that the rest of my day will be filled with cabbage soup and pickles. So, like I said before, this is heeeeeaaaaaven to me right now.
Bon appetit.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Wake Up Call
I know I should post this for a Motivation Monday, but since I am starting today, and I have been updating the blog because of the changes I am making, I just realized I started this blog five months ago.
When I started this blog, I weighed in at 337 pounds. Had I averaged a 10 pound per month weight loss (which is more than acceptable and doable for me, IMHO), I would be fifty pounds lighter right now.
Fifty freaking pounds.
287.
And while that is still a large number to so many of you, it would mean so very much to me to weigh 287. It would mean no longer weighing somewhere in the 300's. It would mean having more jeans to wear than the single pair that fits me right now. It would me FIFTY FREAKING POUNDS LESS.
Instead, five months later, I think I gained fifty pounds. Ok, maybe not quite fifty, but my scale can't weigh me anymore, so I have gained more than I thought i had and am most likely at my highest weight ever. Even if I am not sure, exactly, how much that weight is.
So, here's looking to five months ahead and being fifty pounds less. Because, looking back at the past five months, I sure do wish I could have devoted myself more and lost the fifty pounds instead of being where I am right now. And that, right there, is my motivation.
I'm Doing This
Because I am more than a number. And that blasted number is no longer going to control my life, my marriage, my self. But really, here's why:
It's not happening in the dark anymore . . . well, it won't. Some day. . .
New year . . . New Me?
I know I have posted all of these "this is it, I am going to do this and here's how" posts since I started this blog several months ago. I have also posted some pretty mind numbing excuse posts, some petty complaint posts, and generally just not posted at all. And here are the results: I now am at my highest weight ever. I have done nothing to lose weight. not. one. damn. thing.
It's depressing.
It's mortifying.
It's ugly. Very ugly.
It's jiggly and soft.
It's humiliating.
It's close your eyes and get undressed in the dark and pray your husband never sees you naked - ever - let alone want to touch you because you are so gross kind of embarrassing. Even when he tells you that you are beautiful and lovely and the woman he married is who you are inside and that is who he loves - you still close your eyes and get undressed in the dark and pray he never sees you naked - ever - let alone want to touch you because you are so gross kind of embarrassing.
When he does touch you, you pray and hope and plead with any deity who might be listening that he keeps his eyes closed and the room dark and he doesn't feel the fat shifting and jiggling and moving around in so many disgusting ways while you try, very hard, to enjoy what the two of you are sharing in your most intimate moments while at the same time just wanting the whole thing to be over, the end of your humiliation, your embarrassment, your feelings of unattractiveness and the fact that it is all. your. fault.
And, I could curl up into a ball and cry my eyes out, bemoaning my metabolism and my lack of energy and the fact that just thinking about exercising makes my thighs ache.
Or
Or
Or
I could get off of my fat, very lazy ass and do something about it.
It's January 3. For the billionth and first time in my life, I am going to try and lose weight.
I have about 200 pounds to lose (no, that is not a typo). I need motivation. I need support. I have this blog that will probably see some pretty ugly things in the future. If you're interested . . . if you want to witness my mortifyigly embarrassing humiliation as I try, probably in vain, to release the skinny bitch SCREAMING to get out of me, then come back. I will probably have cookies. Most fat girls do.
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