Reflecting

I have been posting a lot less than I intended due to homework and trip preparation, but wanted to get one in before I am offline for a week (although my niece is bringing her laptop with us, so I may be able to sneak on one day while we are gone.)

Hubby gave my scale back this morning (well, technically last night so I could weigh my suitcase, but I was good and didn't step on myself until this morning.) 182.5. Last time I was allowed to weigh myself, I was 179. Sooo...I am back to my maintained weight, the one I can't quite seem to say goodbye to. Which is ok. Not great, but better than weighing more than that. I haven't been putting the work in the last two weeks, and that shows, but I knew that and am accepting responsibility for it and moving forward. When I get back from Disney World, I am going to get back on track with the exercise schedule and food, and that is good. Rather than getting down on myself, I am just going to dedicate myself to doing better. That is a good step for me.

As I've been packing my bag for my trip, I've been thinking about where I am now that I wasn't a year ago. Looking at my clothes as I was rolling them up, I realized that almost all my shirts are mediums (the only large having come from the juniors section) and all my shorts and capris are size 14. That is a size that I never thought I would see again. And all of my stuff fit in one small suitcase, with room to spare. Because I have been losing weight in fits and starts over the last two years, and have been maintaining where I am for a while, I have lost that feeling you get when you look in the mirror and think "Wow, look how skinny I am getting!" I have gotten back into feeling like I am too heavy and lumpy blah blah blah. So it was good to have a chance to step back and look at the changes in myself and recognize again that I have come far. 38 pounds is not a small amount, and just because I am not tiny, that does not mean that I am not attractive. I think that is a good way to start out a vacation.

Putting the work in for the reward

Why is it that to get to the really great things in life, you have to go through the crap first? Who made up this plan? And why is it that it extends to EVERYTHING in my life?

I leave for my first ever trip to Disney World with my dad, sister, and adult niece on Saturday night. I get a 7 day break from my life, family obligations, children, school, etc. etc., to see a place I have always wanted to go. Paid for by my father. Fabulous, right? Yes, it is. HOWEVER, first I have to make it through this week.

This week, I have a four page paper due for American Lit, and a five page paper that I have to finish for my Intro to the Short Story class because it is due the day after I get back from my trip (first I have to finish reading the collection of short stories for said paper.) I have a two page paper due for that class by tonight at midnight, plus the other typical homework for the week for both classes. Hubby is working long hours tonight, tomorrow, and Wednesday as the "big guys" are coming to visit the restaurant, leaving me here with the kids while trying to a) complete all the homework and b) finish gathering the things I need from the store before my trip. If I do a good job on my papers, the rest of the semester will pretty much be cake, and then I will have my two associate degrees. So the question is, will I commit myself to it and get them done before Friday so I can pack and get ready stress-free, or will I procrastinate like always and finish all of the above by Thursday afternoon so I can spend that night with Hubby (who will actually be home at night) and then wash laundry and pack on Friday?

All in all, it is piling up to be a very hectic and stressful week before I am allowed to enjoy a week of fun. Besides stressing me out, it has got me thinking about how this weight loss thing is much like this week I am facing. There is a place out there where I want to live, where I weigh at least 20 pounds less. Not just visit, mind you, but live. And it will be great. I will be healthy and happy and really enjoy life. But before I can get there, I have to go through all this crap. Learning to take control back from my body, dealing with my emotional issues, EXERCISING until I collapse. It is stressful, difficult, and annoying. But if I want to get to that happy place, I have to get through all of this first. So the question is, am I going to put in the effort, cut out the crap, and work my butt off to get to where life is good, or am I going to continue to put it off, revert to bad habits (like always) and just keep maintaining at this unsatisfactory weight?

Flock of Seagulls (or some other bird)

I just *gasp* took my daughter's *gasp* mountain bike for a *gasp* quick ride down the road. Whew. Hold on, I think I need to put my head between my knees for a second...I am a little winded and light headed. Okay, I think I'm alright...geez. So the first thing I realized was that her brakes don't really work, like at all, a realization which hit me as I was going DOWN our driveway. Upon squeezing the hand brake, all that happened with the rear brakes was a lot of squealing, which sounded kind of like the bike was laughing at me as I headed toward the open road without even slowing down. And yet I kept going, up until this suicidal flock of birds decided to play chicken with me (or is that insulting to a bird which is not a chicken?) and believe me, they would have won IF I HAD BEEN ABLE TO STOP. Instead they panicked at the last second, and I now believe that I am the leader of their neighborhood flock.

ANYWAY...the other realization that I had as I was huffing and puffing my way back home and up the incline of our driveway was that, despite the running I have been doing for C25K, and can make it through a 3 minute interval without TOO much trouble, that fitness doesn't carry over to another activity like biking. Now, I understand that it requires muscles moving in unfamiliar ways, but I would have thought that my lungs, since involved in the running, would be more cardiovascularly fit for this. They are not. So what this means is that while running may get me into good shape and I could be really great at it and love it one day (or so you bunch of liars tell me) IT WON'T MEAN THAT I WILL BE IN SHAPE AND GOOD AT ALL OTHER ACTIVITIES. WHAT???!!! Why the hell am I running? If it isn't going to make me a super-athlete, what is the point? I think I want my money back. Oh wait, running doesn't cost me anything. Crap.

Caution - whiny road ahead

I am unable to function in the weight loss arena lately. The joy I was getting from knowing I was moving my way through the C25K, JOGGING, something I have always hated and felt too big for and thought I would never do, is no longer carrying me through. I'm still doing it, but I am not feeling excited about my progress. And then there's the food. OH the food. While I am not gorging myself on cake and cookies and soda and whatnot, I am not eating well. I am eating more than I should, especially from late afternoon through the evening. There are so many things going on in my life right now, and I used to be able to take those things and list them and tell myself they were valid reasons for my eating or not exercising or whatever. However, sadly for me, after reading all of your blogs and hearing your stories and your words of wisdom (because in this arena, you are all wise, whether you realize it or not) I am unable to see these as valid reasons anymore. Now I see them for what they are - excuses. And knowing that but not being able to turn it around and change my eating habits with that knowledge adds a whole new layer of guilt to the eating.

So while I know that these things that are happening in my life and conspiring against me are not what is really keeping me from eating well, I am hoping that if I get some of it out there, I will be able to breathe and maybe even be able to regain some control.

I mentioned before that my hubby, four kids, and I are all currently living with my mother-in-law. We have been here for over 3 years now, since my husband got laid off from his job in another state and we moved back home. After a good amount of time of joblessness, he has been working at a restaurant for the last 9  months, as a shift leader with the promise of a management position once they start opening the next couple of stores, which is happening at the end of the summer (supposedly, anyway.) And there is a lot of good growth opportunity there and it is a good job and most of the time he likes it. However, he is performing a lot of the duties of a manager without actually getting paid like a manager. Far from it, actually. So while he is working long hours and late hours and putting in all this effort, we aren't really being properly compensated for it. (He has asked for a raise until he is made assistant manager and gets salary, and we are still waiting to hear back from the big boss on it.) In the meantime, we don't make enough money to move out on our own, and I am stuck as a 30 year old mother of four who isn't really in control of her household and doesn't have the space to be the homemaker that I supposedly am. I am left feeling stunted and sometimes pointless. Add to that the fact that hubby's schedule changes weekly and is unpredictable, meaning that I can't plan my own life out more that a week at a time, and have to carefully plan to fit in workouts when hubby is home to keep the kids, and I am starting to feel walled-in.

My husband and I are also in school. I have been working on my AA for something like 10 years now - I have taken tons of classes solely for the financial aid, and so it has taken me a long time to actually work on the classes that go towards my degree. Hubby started back to school about a year or so ago. I will finally finish with the junior college after this semester, and will actually have two AA's. Hubby will move on to the state university in the fall, but I have opted to take time off and go back once all the kidlets are in school. As many of you know, going to school with kids at home is near impossible. I am stressed all the time, always trying to do homework, while still needing to parent. It makes me cranky and short-tempered and did I mention STRESSED? At this point, hubby's degree is more important, as I wouldn't be going to work right now anyway, so I am just stepping back and plan on focusing on my kids. Which is great. BUT I have to get through this semester first - and right now I have 2 5-page papers due for my two English classes that have to be done by the end of next week, as they are due the day after I get back from my trip with my dad, which means I have to have them finished before go. Anyone have a trowel and some cement?

Daughter #1 (age 10) has type 1 diabetes, (a whole other story) and scoliosis for which she wears a brace 23 hours a day, trying to put off an impending surgery, which will have to happen at some point (a whole other story.) Her doctors for both of these conditions are about 45 minutes away, and both appointments happen to fall this week but on different days, which means I am pulling kids out of school early and driving and trying to control them all in a doctor's office while waiting to hear whether or not we are handling things right or completely screwing her up, and whether or not her surgery can be put off for another few months until the next appointment. Hand me another brick.

I don't do the grocery shopping here - we buy things here and there, but really don't make enough money to seriously buy things. I have a mother-in-law who is an emotional eater, and constantly comes home with baked goods and greasy foods and things of the like. I am left standing in front of the shelves, trying in vain to find something healthy to eat, and even more in vain to avoid eating the junk food. Although, on a better note, mother-in-law was recently diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, so the food choices around here should be improving (not glad she got diabetes, but hoping it is what she needs to turn her life around and make some good changes.)

Ugh, are any of you even still with me at this point? I kind of hope not - this is a long and depressing and COMPLAINING post. But even just typing it all out has given me a second to breathe, and loosened that tight coil in my chest a little. I feel so out of control of so much in my life right now, and I have really lost the ability to hope for things since so many things have been pulled out from under us, and I guess I just don't know how to take that and put it into motivation for eating right and working out. Any ideas??? A sledgehammer maybe???

Linky McLinkerson

I haven't been in a good place the last few days or so (okay, maybe the last week) but I think I am ready to turn it around, just as Jack Sh*t advised yesterday. I will have more details on what has been happening later, but right now I am on limited time. I would like to thank MrsFatass for posting her playlist in this morning's post (I don't know if I was the only one, but I left her a comment the other day asking what she listens to, as I am in the market for some new workout tunes.) 

Ok, now that I am done being linky, I have just a moment to talk about W4D1 of C25K. It sucked. The end.

I really could leave it there, but instead I will tell you that I pushed through it. The last 3 minutes of the second 5 minute interval NEARLY KILLED ME, and I am pretty sure anyone driving by taking their kids to school saw a chunky girl who ALMOST looked like she was running, but was really more hobbling/jogging and generally barely moving. (I am also guessing a fair amount of them thought about stopping to ask if needed any help, while the rest were looking around for whatever it was that was chasing me, because CLEARLY I was not a runner normally.) Those last 3 minutes I had to keep saying "Come on, I can do this" (to myself obviously since I clearly didn't have enough breath to move any words past my lips.) My knee hurts, my lungs hurt, my face is a gorgeous shade of crimson, but I did it. It wasn't pretty or fast and I certainly didn't kill it or feel really great about it, but I finished. And now I am off to meet the women I walk with two days a week. 

More later...

Food shouldn't talk

I've got to write something so that my exposed picture isn't staring at me every time I click on the blog to check on who has updated their blogs. I mean, I thought I was decently comfortable with that picture, but after seeing it multiple times, my self-confidence in it is beginning to decline. Geez. These ideas always seem good at the time...

I am currently trying to distract myself from the leftover Robin Eggs that are calling to me from the other room. Yes, I realize that they do not have mouths, and yet I can distinctly hear their crispy malted goodness calling from within their crunchy chocolate shells. For a small candy, they sure have a deep, seductive voice! What I need to do is let my kids have a free-for-all on that small dish of Easter candy out there, just so that it is no longer hanging around to torture me. Maybe for their breakfast tomorrow - how's that for promoting healthy eating with my young'uns?

Hubby is working tonight, so the kids and I headed to my dad's to visit and have dinner and talk about our impending Disney World trip. A note about my dad - he loves me. And wants the best for me. And sometimes enjoys giving me things that I don't/can't normally give myself due to lack of funding. For years, one of those things has been Pepsi. See, he knows that I love Pepsi. It has always been my favorite soda, and I never have bought it to keep in the house for myself because a) we could never afford to and b) I would tend to drink 3 or more a day if I had it readily available. Of course, that was before I started losing weight and being healthier - I couldn't and don't want to drink that much anymore. And most days I honestly don't want any at all. But some days, when I have a particularly bad day or a bad headache or I'm having pizza, I will want one. And some days I still do have it - hey, I'm working on it. I know it is the devil.

At any rate, my dad often keeps a pack of the cans in his pantry, not just for me, but I am part of the reason. Tonight, at one point, I took one out of the pantry with the intent of drinking it (I have had a headache for three days that won't go away, so the caffeine sounded good.) After a moments thought, though, I decided that I would try to put it off for a bit. So I put it in the fridge to get cold, because there is nothing better than an ice cold Pepsi in a can. Except maybe crack. I'll get back to you on that one. Well, as the night went on, I knew that soda was in there, but I didn't take it out. I thought about it occasionally, but I left it where it was. And eventually I won out - I didn't drink it, and I also didn't feel deprived, I just left it in the fridge. By the time I was getting ready to leave, I was feeling very happy with myself for not drinking it just because it was there, or as a stimulant, or anything. It was a small thing, but something I could pick out of this day to be proud of. And I am officially not going to have any of those Robin Eggs. Now if only I could kick that crack habit.

Me Exposed!!!

I know, scandalous, right? I was looking into the whole "exposed" movement yesterday, and in a moment of lunacy decided that stepping outside of my comfort zone was just what I needed. And it turns out that taking and deciding to post the picture wasn't the hard part - the hard part was thinking of positive things to say about myself. So this is a starting place, and hopefully I will be able to come up with more and more things that I like about myself as time goes on. I do have to say that after staring at my body for 20 minutes while I figured out how to type over the picture and also what I wanted to say, I actually feel pretty good about how my body is changing. I can see a difference and know that, while it may be VERY slooooow, I am getting smaller. So without further ado, here I am, exposed:

Scale Nazi

Every day I think that I will get on here and post something, and everyday since Saturday I have been too far away from my computer to actually do it. I am going to try to commit to posting something every week day - it keeps me on track better.

So, the husband hid my scale again. Without my asking him to, I might add. Sunday night I went to go to the bathroom before bed, and there was a conspicuously empty space in the floor where my scale lives. Figuring that it didn't just get up and walk away on its own (although it could in protest of how often it is stepped on a day) I went to the bedroom and asked my hubby if he had seen the missing scale. "What?" he responded, so innocently. I narrowed my eyes at him and repeated the question more slowly for him. "Scale? What scale?" was his reply. "No, seriously, what did you do with my scale?" I asked, with a slight edge to my voice. To which I was replied "I took it away. It had already been out for longer than it should have been." And then he looked down at what he was doing again, as if that were the end of the conversation. It wasn't.

After explaining to him that there was no deal wherein he was supposed to take the scale away again after I got it back last Thursday, he asked me why I needed it. My voice may have been raised an extra octave as I told him that I NEEDED to know how much damage I had done to myself over Easter. He calmly told me that I did not need it, and that my goal has been to be in good enough shape to walk all over Disney World without being in pain or being any more tired than is customary when I go with my dad and sister in three weeks, and that that has nothing to do with the number on the scale. I looked at him with one eyebrow raised (my signature look when I can't believe what he is telling me) and was met eye to eye with the look that tells me he is right and that is that. "I can go find it you know," I said. "Go ahead," was his reply. I stared at him for a moment longer before breaking the gaze and shaking my head, saying "You know I won't do that."

So there you go. Apparently, according to the scale-Nazi, I get it back the day I leave for my trip (I had to talk him into that one - he wasn't going to put it back until after I was gone.) So there will be no weighing myself until April 24th. I was a little irritated for about a minute, but then that quickly turned into love for a husband who is truly looking out for my best interest and doesn't want me obsessing as I am wont to do.

Cycles

I'm cycling. And not as in biking. It's my eating - I can't seem to get committed to eating better and really trying to lose weight. I am working out and that part is great. I am actually very proud of myself for sticking to this running thing for more than one day, and for believing that one day it will be easier. But when it comes to my eating, I am something of a disappointment. I can get committed for about a week or two, and then I lose the drive to really watch what I eat and I play that mind game with myself that I like to call "I like who I am and what I look like, so I will just eat what I want." HA. I am gangbusters at maintaining my current weight - the problem is that I don't want to maintain, I want to start losing again. I just don't know where to find the motivation for that. There are so many reasons that I can cite for why I grabbed a handful of animal crackers a couple of hours ago, or why I can't seem to avoid my mother-in-law's leftover pizza in the box on the counter: I'm stressed; I'm bored; I don't know what else to eat; I am not strong enough to avoid it; it makes me happy. But none of those are legitimate reasons for why I can't just tell myself no and walk away. I'm not binging, I am just not making good choices for what to eat for my snacks and meals. So where is this lost motivation, and how do I find it?

One and two-thirds miles

Today I ran 1 2/3 miles. Without stopping. That is a record for me - my previous record being 1 mile, set just a couple of weeks ago. After my FANTASTIC trip to San Francisco yesterday, I stayed the night at a friend's house in Vacaville rather than drive all the way home at 2 in the morning. This morning I went jogging with said friend, who regularly runs 2 miles and is trying to talk me into signing up for a 5K in April with her. Um, sorry, no. (She actually asked me a couple of weeks ago, and the fear that the mere thought of attempting something like that struck in me inspired me to start the C25K program. I am trying to learn to overcome my fears.) Anyhow, I am only on week 2 of the program, but was interested to see how I would fare just flat out running with her as opposed to doing my intervals. I was also interested to see how I would do on flat land as opposed to the slightly hilly area near my house where I do my jogging normally (what seem like insignificant inclines while in a car seem more like mountains when you are jogging, I swear!)

At any rate, we went out and started running, and I pushed myself to keep going, and she pushed me to keep going, and I kept going through the suck until I just actually couldn't jog another step. And you know what? I was impressed with myself. I made it farther than I thought I could, and it gave me a glimpse into what life could be like if I keep at it and keep doing C25K. While I didn't enjoy the run per se, I did enjoy the feeling when I was finished. It also made me wish I had a regular running buddy, because nothing keeps me going better than the desire to not look like a total wuss next to someone else the great feeling of sharing in health with a friend.

Facing the Scale

I only have a minute for a quick check-in before I leave for San Francisco for the day with my hubby and some friends (we are going to see Wicked tonight - I can't wait!) but I wanted to blog about weighing myself this morning. For those who don't remember, I had my husband hide my scale for two weeks and today was the day I got it back. Actually, he put it out last night before bed so that I could have it first thing this morning to weigh myself, and I was even strong enough not to weigh myself when I had to pee before bed. Then this morning, when I first got up and was undressed before putting on my workout clothes, I faced the scale. It was REALLY hard for me to get on it. I stared at it for a minute, trying to breathe slowly. I was really scared of the unknown - I had no idea whether I would be up or down, and I was just praying that the slow work I have been doing over the past two weeks would pay off and my body wouldn't pull one of its tricks where for no apparent reason I am up 5 pounds. I finally managed to step on, and closed my eyes while I waited for the number to pop up.

I forced myself to open one eye long enough to check out what the reading was: 179. Now, as I look back at my blogging, I notice that I never logged what my weight was when I last weighed myself. Ha. I am fairly certain it was 185 after my birthday binging. So that is a loss of 6 pounds in the last two weeks. However, I could have been 183, which would be a 4 pound loss. Either way, I am happy. I had to stop my mind from going through the thoughts of "I wonder if that is just muscle loss since I stopped doing the Shred and started running" and "I wonder if it would have been more if I hadn't eaten so late last night." I am happy with it, regardless of "what if."

The 170s have been ever-elusive for me since I started losing weight - 179 is the lowest I ever get, and the next day I am always back in the 180s. So my goal is to continue making the good choices and doing the C25K thing, and hopefully that will move me solidly into the 70s.

I completed W2D2 this morning, and am now heading off to San Francisco for a day of walking walking walking, so I am feeling pretty good about the exercise portion of my life today. Hope everyone is doing well!