I got a measuring tape the other day. On my WiiFitPlus, I can keep track of my waist measurements, and my first one clocked in at 53.5 inches. That's more than 4 feet around, and just a little depressing. If you stretch out the 53.5 inches in one long line, it's kindof baffling. That's how ROUND my waist is, and stretched out strait like that is a sortof visual kick in the ass. It hasn't made me retaliate on myself in a negative way. I still do the same things I always do. It's just a new number to think about.
Speaking of numbers, my mother and I went out to lunch the other day. We had some pretty crappy (and terribly unhealthy) mexican food, and we talked about our weight almost the entire time. I told her about how that 1oo pounds I had lost crept back up on me over 4 years, and she's just as baffled as I am. I told her I don't really believe in the all mighty BMI while she is a firm believer in it, even though we're both at the top of the charts. I told her that it's not the NUMBERS I'm worried about, it's the CLOTHES i want to fit in to. And I'll do it my way.
I've been doing pretty good at checking in on Wii. 16 days out of 30 isn't half bad. My weight graft is slowly declining, although there are spikes when I mistakenly weighed in right after I had a late dinner and a few drinks. I'll be happy at the end of the year if the graft showed moderately steady weight loss, and not a drastic decline. I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job keeping it up. I've gone about 20 miles on my exercise bike since I got it set up in my living room. I won't lie and say it's an every day battle, because it's not. but I'm proud of what I've been doing, because it's more healthy than doing nothing.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Being Obese
So here's what I've been up to this year thus far:
1. I've been making some mean greens, and doing without the carbs all together at least twice a week. Brussel sprouts are a new favorite of mine, and I saute them in one part butter, one part extra virgin olive oil, a little sea salt, a bunch of pepper, and an entire head of garlic. They're so damn good with grilled chicken that I don't even miss potatoes or noodles as the "fill me up." Also, steamed broccoli is pretty amazing.
2. My workout schedule has been hit and miss. Hit meaning, when I hit the nail on the head, I hit it HARD. I mix up my time between my exercise bike and doing the hula hoop and other various games on the Wii for an entire day. I make sure to sit down every hour or so for at least half an hour, and I drink water and stretch out my legs on the floor while I watch the cooking channel. I like the feel of my legs burning, and I visualize the inches coming off.
When I miss though, I'll miss for 2 or 3 days straight. I'll eat fried foods, and drink white russians, and pig out on a sushi buffet. And shockingly enough, every time I get on to weigh my shame, I'm expecting to have gained at least 10 pounds back. Shockingly enough, I am steadily loosing about 2 a week. Which means I'm up to a total of minus 6 pounds since I started giving a shit. And that's pretty awesome.
3. I have the internet in my apartment now, and I've never been so in love. I've been following a bunch of blogs closely, and I've been stealing crafty ideas for my tiny little nest. I realized last week how much I'm in love with my bedroom. Oh, and I've been balls deep on the couch watching United States Of Tara on Netflix for the past 3 nights in a row. Now that I think of it, I should really be on the exercise bike while I'm ignoring everything around me for 30 minutes at a time. I'd be finishing it now, except that my power's out.
What I really need to do soon:
1. I need to get a measuring tape. I want to track how many inches I'm loosing. I don't care so much about my hips and my belly (bellies, let's be honest) but my thunder thighs are not going to be missed, and I want to celebrate their passing with every inch.
2. I want a pedometer. I'm curious how many steps I take a day. I know I could get one of those cheap ones from the dollar store, but I don't trust them.
3. I need to clean out my closet. There is a mountain of clothes ready to swallow me whole. I have a laundry bin in the bathroom that's going to rot through to my downstairs neighbor if I don't empty it soon. I've got those space saver bags where you suck out all the air to make room for more shit, and I need to put them back in use. What's more, I need to take a bag to Good Will to donate, instead of bringing more artsy crafty crap home.
1. I've been making some mean greens, and doing without the carbs all together at least twice a week. Brussel sprouts are a new favorite of mine, and I saute them in one part butter, one part extra virgin olive oil, a little sea salt, a bunch of pepper, and an entire head of garlic. They're so damn good with grilled chicken that I don't even miss potatoes or noodles as the "fill me up." Also, steamed broccoli is pretty amazing.
2. My workout schedule has been hit and miss. Hit meaning, when I hit the nail on the head, I hit it HARD. I mix up my time between my exercise bike and doing the hula hoop and other various games on the Wii for an entire day. I make sure to sit down every hour or so for at least half an hour, and I drink water and stretch out my legs on the floor while I watch the cooking channel. I like the feel of my legs burning, and I visualize the inches coming off.
When I miss though, I'll miss for 2 or 3 days straight. I'll eat fried foods, and drink white russians, and pig out on a sushi buffet. And shockingly enough, every time I get on to weigh my shame, I'm expecting to have gained at least 10 pounds back. Shockingly enough, I am steadily loosing about 2 a week. Which means I'm up to a total of minus 6 pounds since I started giving a shit. And that's pretty awesome.
3. I have the internet in my apartment now, and I've never been so in love. I've been following a bunch of blogs closely, and I've been stealing crafty ideas for my tiny little nest. I realized last week how much I'm in love with my bedroom. Oh, and I've been balls deep on the couch watching United States Of Tara on Netflix for the past 3 nights in a row. Now that I think of it, I should really be on the exercise bike while I'm ignoring everything around me for 30 minutes at a time. I'd be finishing it now, except that my power's out.
What I really need to do soon:
1. I need to get a measuring tape. I want to track how many inches I'm loosing. I don't care so much about my hips and my belly (bellies, let's be honest) but my thunder thighs are not going to be missed, and I want to celebrate their passing with every inch.
2. I want a pedometer. I'm curious how many steps I take a day. I know I could get one of those cheap ones from the dollar store, but I don't trust them.
3. I need to clean out my closet. There is a mountain of clothes ready to swallow me whole. I have a laundry bin in the bathroom that's going to rot through to my downstairs neighbor if I don't empty it soon. I've got those space saver bags where you suck out all the air to make room for more shit, and I need to put them back in use. What's more, I need to take a bag to Good Will to donate, instead of bringing more artsy crafty crap home.
Monday, January 2, 2012
2012
Happy New Year!
Sadly, I didn't go to the masquerade party I had planed on. The last two days of the year were the busiest and most terrible days of work I've had in a while. I'll skip the sour notes, but it really ruined my mood. I was not in the mood to party, I was in the mood to go home and cry.
But I wouldn't give into my instinctive self pity party, so I decided to go get a pedicure at 7pm on New Years Eve, and I enjoyed every second of it. I listened to an orchestra play songs from West Side Story on the TV, and I let the little old lady massage my shoulders with warm oil while another one scrubbed and rubbed my feet and legs. It was the nicest thing I could have possibly done for myself. I chose a dark silver for my toes, because I always match the color of the panties I'm wearing. I think I read that in a book somewhere, and it stuck with me.
After that, I went home and opened the bottle of Crown Royale that I had specifically bought for the night. I watched Sex in the City until about 30 minutes before midnight. Then I turned to the local news station and watched downtown Dallas bring in the new year at Victory Center. The live music was HORRIBLE, and as I sipped my Crown (alone) I was thankful that I was there, with my fat orange cat Otis, by myself.
My man friend came over around 3 am, after his buzz wore off from the party he went to. We finished the bottle of Crown and stayed up talking until 6am, when we finally and blissfully went to sleep.
I ate black eyed peas at my mother's house on New Years day, because it's a tradition we've had since we were little kids. I made myself a mimosa for breakfast, and had 3 strawberry margaritas on the rocks for lunch. We watched the Cowboys loose, and while we were playing Yahtzee, my aunt asked everyone what their new years resolutions were.
I don't want to QUIT doing anything. I don't want to set unreasonable, unsustainable goals.
I just want to drink more water and work out more.
I want to be healthier.
Sadly, I didn't go to the masquerade party I had planed on. The last two days of the year were the busiest and most terrible days of work I've had in a while. I'll skip the sour notes, but it really ruined my mood. I was not in the mood to party, I was in the mood to go home and cry.
But I wouldn't give into my instinctive self pity party, so I decided to go get a pedicure at 7pm on New Years Eve, and I enjoyed every second of it. I listened to an orchestra play songs from West Side Story on the TV, and I let the little old lady massage my shoulders with warm oil while another one scrubbed and rubbed my feet and legs. It was the nicest thing I could have possibly done for myself. I chose a dark silver for my toes, because I always match the color of the panties I'm wearing. I think I read that in a book somewhere, and it stuck with me.
After that, I went home and opened the bottle of Crown Royale that I had specifically bought for the night. I watched Sex in the City until about 30 minutes before midnight. Then I turned to the local news station and watched downtown Dallas bring in the new year at Victory Center. The live music was HORRIBLE, and as I sipped my Crown (alone) I was thankful that I was there, with my fat orange cat Otis, by myself.
My man friend came over around 3 am, after his buzz wore off from the party he went to. We finished the bottle of Crown and stayed up talking until 6am, when we finally and blissfully went to sleep.
I ate black eyed peas at my mother's house on New Years day, because it's a tradition we've had since we were little kids. I made myself a mimosa for breakfast, and had 3 strawberry margaritas on the rocks for lunch. We watched the Cowboys loose, and while we were playing Yahtzee, my aunt asked everyone what their new years resolutions were.
I don't want to QUIT doing anything. I don't want to set unreasonable, unsustainable goals.
I just want to drink more water and work out more.
I want to be healthier.
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