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.
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