New Adventures Start With a Look Back

As I embark on this new adventure, I believe it should begin with a look back at where it began.  Don't worry, this won't be about the day I was born or to the beginning of time, but it will be more serious than I usually post.  Just to where my adventure, my life began with my dear husband.  I find that new, great love can often inspire us to be better.  To be more.  I am truly blessed that he makes me want to be the best person, the best partner that I can be.  He inspires me most every day.  He is supportive and has even told me that he loves my 'tummy.'  If that isn't love, I don't know what is.  He stands by me and allows me to be myself- thick or thin (me, that is).

When we first started dating, we had been friends for over a year and I had been in love with him for most of that time.  Sad, but true.  His charm and charisma still sometimes stop me in my tracks.  His bravery in the face of all that we have been through is staggering.  He is brilliant, beautiful, bold and maddening at the same time.

Once upon a time, I used to write poetry.  I rarely share it because it is often too personal, too raw.  But today, inexplicably, I find myself yet again inspired.  I want you to know what I saw in him, in myself more than 10 years ago.  Things I still see today and that's how I know that my adventure is still in its infancy.  There is so much more to come.

Those who know me, know I have a favorite phrase.  It is only 2 words, but they sum up life without fuss.  "Love is..."  And then you get to fill in the blank.  It is a reminder to me that love is in the little, every day minutia.  And here I will share a bit about what I believe about love.

Without further ado:

Love is Poetry.

Love is chaotic, yet 

Uncomplicated.

Love is palpable, yet

Untouchable.

Love is pure, yet

Muddled.

Love is wholesome, yet

Wicked.

Love is gentle, yet

Unyielding.

Love is loneliness, yet

I am not alone.

Love is beyond my grasp, yet

I hold it in my heart.

My New Plan. To WIN Every Day

Hello there!  It has been a while.  Ii didn't have much to say about the subject of weight loss since I have gained most of the weight back that I lost writing this blog.  I think I am going to try again to inspire/disgust/entertain you with my goofy little antics.

To start with, I am going small...  I plan to WIN every day.  Allow me to explain what I mean:

Step 1)     I will do something active every  day.  Even if that just entails walking on my lunch break for 10 minutes.  I need to move more to burn calories, clear my mind and get myself back on a track where weight loss is possible.  Not being able to take a full, deep breath in my favorite jeans is not good times.  Oh, who am I kidding?!?!  I cannot sit or stand in them at this point.  Bend over and buckle/tie my shoes?  It's all just a fantasy at this moment.  Dream ON, sista!

Step 2)     I will make at least one better food/beverage decision every day.  Double butterburger with all the trimmings?  YUM.  If I choose the grilled chicken sandwich instead?  I'm calling it a win.  Cold cut sub instead of half of a large pizza?  Win!  If I drink one diet soda instead of my favorite, painfully caloric beers?  Win.  A glass of water instead of that bottle of wine?  (And yes, I said bottle)  Win.

This plan is about baby steps for me.  I got discouraged last time having very little to celebrate.  To make sure that doesn't happen to me again, in this plan, I win EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Pretty sure that's a plan I can live with.  And soon, I hope to build on it.  Care to join me?

Bat Wings Be Damned!

I have to be honest, as that's what this site is really about.  I haven't been good.  I have been eating garbage and not working out as much as I should.  Do I feel guilty?  A little.  Ah well.  "To err is human; to forgive, divine." ~Alexander Pope   In that spirit, I forgive me.

But herein lies the trouble with giving myself the summer 'off':  November 3 marks the 6 month countdown to my wedding.  Uh-oh.  It's almost time for dress fittings!

So here starts my renewed effort to get with the program.  Back to the gym 4-5 times a week.  Back to watching what I eat.  Back to all of the things that I know I should have been doing all along.  I hope to drop 15 lbs. by the wedding.  I don't want to lose so much that my dress needs extensive alterations!

Most of all, I have to tone up these arms!  I don't need my 'bat wings' flappin' in the breeze while I try to dance the night away!  And for this very reason, I am going to start doing more weight training.  Mandatory.  Previously, I have focused primarily on cardio and keeping my heart rate up.  This time around, I'll pump more iron.  Gotta do it.  And they say that muscle burns fat anyway, so it should be a win-win!  Unless I can't lift my arms to brush my teeth.  Or my hair.  Should all be worth it in the end!

I need a new mantra though.  Something that captures my goals in a catchy little phrase.  Hmmm... I think I've got it!

"Bat wings be damned!"

Red-Faced

Working out hard leaves me red-faced, literally.  And because of it, the people who approach me to ask if I'm going to be okay don't see how I blush in embarrassment and shame.  Remember people, just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't happening.

Now, I acknowledge that after an hour of cardio, I do look a little frightening.  My hair is all over and my face is beet red.  I'm not exaggerating about the color of red.  People constantly ask me if I'm okay, like I might stroke out any second.  I wish I could stop it from happening, but I can't.  If I'm too warm, I turn red.  If I'm embarrassed, I turn red.  If I have been exerting myself, I turn red.  The moral of the story?  More often than not- my face is day-glow red.  What can I say?  I like to stand out in a crowd.

In previous posts, I have told you that I don't dress up or put on make-up to go to the gym so you know I don't care much what I look like there.  However, this one thing that I cannot control or cover-up constantly causes me grief.  I know that my post-workout face could lead Santa through a whiteout blizzard on Christmas Eve; I just choose not to look at it.

Please don't misunderstand me; I appreciate the concern of these people who don't know me from the Tooth Fairy, but fielding these questions almost every single time I exercise has literally chased me out of the gym.  I work out at home now because at least there no one asks me if I need to sit down for a minute.  I like being anonymous at the gym.  I like to go, get it done and get the hell out of there.

By all means, if someone looks like they need immediate medical attention- ask.  Just don't be offended if it ends up being me and I clench my fists, stare you down and through gritted teeth mutter, "For the thousandth time, I'm fine.  My face is just red."

Does Lean = Mean?

Tell me ladies, what's up with all of the mean muggin' at the gym!?  We are all there for the same basic purpose, right?  Personally, I treat it like if I were passing someone on a narrow sidewalk.  I stay out of everyone else's way if possible.  But if we happen to occupy the same space at the same time, I smile and make eye contact and say "Excuse me."  Sounds simple enough, right?  That's where you'd be wrong.

In most cases like this, I find the lady I am trying to move past glaring at me like I just stepped on her kitten.  Why?  I'm not racing them to their machine.  I'm not showing off my muscular physique (HA!) in tiny clothes and chatting up their man.  Mostly, I am trying to churn out my cardio and make a run for it.  I like to get in, get it done, and get out.  I wish like hell that I was an exercise lover, but alas, it isn't to be!

So, why do rules of engagement and politeness not apply at the gym?  Like it or not, we all have to be there at some point.  Why not make the best of it?  Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to form lifelong bonds while I'm there.  I'd just rather not have the other people staring daggers at me the whole time.  Maybe I have broken some unspoken gym rule?  If so, merely say so.  Gym-savvy is definitely not how I'd describe myself!

As for me, I am choosing the higher path.  Well, if by higher path you thought I meant chanting the "Golden Rule" repeatedly as if I were on a grade school playground, then you'd have hit the nail on the head...  Look at me being a grown up!  

IBS: Icky Belly Syndrome

You always hear talk of people who exercise to 'get healthy,' not to lose weight.  They make their weight loss take a backseat to the simple pleasure of feeling better every day.  Truth be told, I used to roll my eyes at those people.  Now I find that I might just be one of them.

                 **I warn you-- this post is chock full of TMI.  Read at your own risk.**

I, just like millions of people, suffer from IBS.  As I have gotten older, mine has flip-flopped on me.  It's no longer the fear of not being able to get to the bathroom fast enough.  It's now the wonder at why I never need one at all.

For some time, I seemed to have my symptoms under control.  Now?  Every day of my life, I feel like that poor deer that has been lying on the side of the road in mid-August heat for a week.  Miserably bloated.  Just poking my tummy makes me wince in pain.  Trust me; this is no way to live.  My jeans barely button and only my men's XL t-shirts cover the 6-month-pregnant belly I'm sporting.  Not that there's anything wrong with that pregnant belly, IF in fact you are pregnant.  I, however, am not.

To help find a solution to my daily agony, I have been doing tons of research on IBS and most every article reads the same way:  keep a food journal (even though most doctors will tell you that food triggers are uncommon with IBS), hydrate, add fiber, and get in 20-30 minutes of moderate exercise 3-5 times a week.  I do most of these things.  I am getting in my 10,000 steps a day.  I drink water.  I take a fiber supplement.  But I am not losing weight and I am not controlling my symptoms of IBS.  Therefore, I am issuing myself the challenge of putting the exercise Rx to the test.  I vow to hit the gym a few times a week again, solely with the plan to see if my IBS will improve.

Currently, I find myself miserable more often than not.  I just want to feel normal.  Thus, I am becoming one of those people I used to roll my eyes at.  I am someone who is going to the gym to feel better- not look better.  Don't get me wrong, if a few of these extra pounds fall off in the process, all the better.

Wedding as a Motivation?

I have been trying to motivate myself more lately.  In short, it's not working.

I have a wedding coming up... MINE!  But still I am finding myself lacking in the motivation department.  I refrained from buying my dress too small to get my butt in gear.  (Not that I had a choice... the floor model IS my dress.  Last of it's kind.)  In fact, my dress fits perfectly as is.

Truly what I want to look better in my dress is not only shrinking my waistline (certainly couldn't hurt!) but having my arms and back look better in it.  After all, that's mostly what people see.  And I am dreading the possibility of back-fat dripping over the top of my dress.  And the armpit fat.  What the hell is that anyway!?

Here lies my predicament:  I despise weight training.  And the machines at the gym might as well have come from Mars along with men.  They should be easy with the diagrams, but having all of those buff people wandering around snickering when I am using a leg machine for my arms doesn't help my confidence level.  I know there are people to ask during the day, but I often go to the gym after-hours and don't know that I'd have the nerve to ask.  I know, I am a gutless wonder.

So, I am going to challenge myself to learn at least one new machine every month between now and the wedding.  I have some time, but that runs out faster than I anticipate, so I might as well get started.  No time better than the present as they say!  Or was it 'no present better than time?'

Either way, the best present I will give myself is a better wedding photo (other than a handsome-as-hell hubby).  Then maybe I'll be able to hang one on my wall.  Maybe.