As much as I love love saying the words, "I'm going back to Paris this weekend," I always have have to follow with the drab truth that I am not going to France. There is a tiny town in north east Texas called Paris (near the border of Oklahoma), and my man friend and I have friends there. It's a nice little place out in the country about 2 hours from home, and just far enough out of the way to make it feel like a vacation. There are adorable little overpriced antique shops in the town square, and our friends have the most adorable little girl I've ever known. The funny (amazing) thing is, we don't really listen to the radio on those drives, we talk the entire time.
The reason this is relevant to this blog is because before we left, something really embarrassing happened to me. I shall start from the beginning:
It was my dad's birthday party, and it was marti gras themed. There were beads in the trees in the back yard, a fire pit, and candles scattered around the garden. People wore masks, and my mother made some amazing food. I was tempted to wear my $6 plastic boobs that I got for Halloween one year, but I was informed that they are tacky. The party was really nice, and I've come to enjoy the themes my family put together, no matter how random they seem. (example: my mothers 42nd birthday party was deemed a hot flash bash, and everything was pink and red and we all had hand fans).
Well, after the party wound down, I was saying my goodbyes around the fire pit. When I went to stand up to get out of my chair, I realized that my ass was stuck. I mean, I stood up and the chair came with me, quite literally clutching my hips like a monkey on it's mothers back. Needless to say, my family started laughing at me. I sat back down and made a depressing "awwwwww" sound that made everyone laugh harder. Because it was my family, I wasn't so much embarrassed as I would have been around strangers or friends. Thank god.
Well that started the ride out to Paris on a fat note. We started talking about dieting. The discussion very quickly jumped on my weight watchers smart ones that I take to lunch vs. his 3 sandwhiches ("But I'm using LOW FAT MAYONASE!"). This man is not impossible to argue with, but winning him over is absolutely futile. I mentioned that the weight watchers program works really well if we both got on it and stuck to it, we could loose a lot of weight. We could research online and find out exactly how many points each of us should get to avoid the meetings and membership fees. Then there were the pros and cons of counting calories vs. counting points vs. just eating healthy. The discussion dwindled down to the fact that no matter which way we went, we would have to keep count of things, and neither of us would realistically stick to that very long. Then the topic moved to gyms and their benefits. I pointed out that there is no way I'm going to work for 9 hours, then go WORK OUT every night (or every other night for that matter). I know myself. That membership will be waisted. We finally decided that a walk by the lake in the evenings wouldn't kill us.
We discussed what our options are for the entire 2 hours. There was no agreement on any type of program or routine that would work for both of us as a team. We concluded that we are going to have to go at our weight problems on our own.
When we got to Paris, we let it all go. We relaxed and watched movies and laughed and played with the kid and the dogs. Sunday night, I was in the bathroom washing my face and their 3 year old little girl came in behind me and said, "Woah! You have a REALLY BIG BUTT!" Have I mentioned that I don't like kids? We'll save that subject for another time.
As far as my weight loss progress has gone, it really hasn't. I haven't really dropped any significant weight since December. But I haven't gained any weight either, so I suppose that's a step in the right direction. Or at very least, not a backslide down the big fat hill.
For dinner tonight, I'm cutting up potatoes and chicken sausage and baking it in the oven with some rosemary. And I'm having a Shiner Light Blonde (that's only 99 calories of delicious Texas Shiner Bock goodness).
This is going to be a very long process.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Valentines
My man friend doesn't believe in valentines day. He never has, and has made it very clear that he would never be going out of his way to do something special for me on purpose February 14th. Ever.
As harsh as that sounds, and as heart broken as alot of women would be, I have to agree with him. It's a commercial holiday, and we don't need it. We are romantic enough as is. We smuggle, and we trade back/shoulder/foot massages about once a week. We leave each other love notes scattered around the apartment, on the fridge, and scrawled in sharpie on my bathroom mirror. I wear sexy bras and panties pretty often, so it's not like I would be surprising him with something unexpected (more importantly, nothing I'd feel foolish, fat, and uncomfortable in). We make each other nice dinners because we want to, and he brings home flowers more often than all the guys I've dated combined. We have date nights about once a month, but because we love each others company and we have so much fun, it's like every night is date night. After 5 years, we're getting better all the time.
Last weekend, I got sick. It's just the usual crap that comes along at least twice a year, where my ears itch, my throat hurts, and I barely move from the couch to the bed for 48 hours. I turn into this pitiful hideous snot monster, but he still wants to kiss me.
He called me before he left work and joked about how terrible I sounded. He told me that he was in a Starbucks war with a girl he works with, and he wanted to know exactly how to say my drink so he could out Starbucks her before he came home. So i told him to grab a pen, "venti skinny upside down white chocolate mocha extra hot no whip". I squeaked out that 17 syllables would surely win him the war.
Well, low and behold, he came home with my venti skinny upside down white chocolate mocha extra hot no whip. Not only did it melt the pain from my throat momentarily, it also melted my heart. I know it's just coffee, but it's MY favorite coffee. And this is not a man who drinks much coffee at all, much less $7 coffee.
So yesterday, Valentines day, I called in sick with my sickness. We stayed in bed till 3pm, and I drank hot tea and littered the floor beside my bed with used tissues. Finally, when we talked ourselves into making a move, we decided to run some errands. We went to make his truck payment, and we window shopped for a little while. I wanted to go to Charming Charlies (this amazing little accessories store that's organized by color-GENIUS-that's super inexpensive-nothing over $40, and most everything under $20). I frequently buy obscure jewelry, that my mother refers to as "tacky." I have owl necklaces and big over sized flower rings and rhinestone studded big bird rings. My man friend thinks it's awesome, and he loves that I wear weird things. When I told him they were opening a CC in town, he pinpointed exactly where it's going to be. When I told him I wanted to see if it was open yet, he replied, "it's not."
"How do you know?"
"Because I checked already."
"When?!"
"Two days ago, and two days before that, and two days before that. Just trust me."
I'm so excited that he's going to buy me a present from there! Knowing him, he's going to buy me lots of little things from there from now on. Because he's thoughtful and amazing like that.
Later that night we went out to eat on a double date with his brother and his new girlfriend. It was one of those mexican food places where you stand in line and build your own burritos, so nothing super fancy. I was barely wearing makeup, and I still felt like poop. After that, we played a few games of pool and went home. We sat on the couch and before we knew it, 5 hours had passed. That's what it's like with him, hours fly by like minutes.
I could go on and on about how wonderful he is, and how much I absolutely adore him, but it's safe to assume that it would make you gag, whoever you are.
As harsh as that sounds, and as heart broken as alot of women would be, I have to agree with him. It's a commercial holiday, and we don't need it. We are romantic enough as is. We smuggle, and we trade back/shoulder/foot massages about once a week. We leave each other love notes scattered around the apartment, on the fridge, and scrawled in sharpie on my bathroom mirror. I wear sexy bras and panties pretty often, so it's not like I would be surprising him with something unexpected (more importantly, nothing I'd feel foolish, fat, and uncomfortable in). We make each other nice dinners because we want to, and he brings home flowers more often than all the guys I've dated combined. We have date nights about once a month, but because we love each others company and we have so much fun, it's like every night is date night. After 5 years, we're getting better all the time.
Last weekend, I got sick. It's just the usual crap that comes along at least twice a year, where my ears itch, my throat hurts, and I barely move from the couch to the bed for 48 hours. I turn into this pitiful hideous snot monster, but he still wants to kiss me.
He called me before he left work and joked about how terrible I sounded. He told me that he was in a Starbucks war with a girl he works with, and he wanted to know exactly how to say my drink so he could out Starbucks her before he came home. So i told him to grab a pen, "venti skinny upside down white chocolate mocha extra hot no whip". I squeaked out that 17 syllables would surely win him the war.
Well, low and behold, he came home with my venti skinny upside down white chocolate mocha extra hot no whip. Not only did it melt the pain from my throat momentarily, it also melted my heart. I know it's just coffee, but it's MY favorite coffee. And this is not a man who drinks much coffee at all, much less $7 coffee.
So yesterday, Valentines day, I called in sick with my sickness. We stayed in bed till 3pm, and I drank hot tea and littered the floor beside my bed with used tissues. Finally, when we talked ourselves into making a move, we decided to run some errands. We went to make his truck payment, and we window shopped for a little while. I wanted to go to Charming Charlies (this amazing little accessories store that's organized by color-GENIUS-that's super inexpensive-nothing over $40, and most everything under $20). I frequently buy obscure jewelry, that my mother refers to as "tacky." I have owl necklaces and big over sized flower rings and rhinestone studded big bird rings. My man friend thinks it's awesome, and he loves that I wear weird things. When I told him they were opening a CC in town, he pinpointed exactly where it's going to be. When I told him I wanted to see if it was open yet, he replied, "it's not."
"How do you know?"
"Because I checked already."
"When?!"
"Two days ago, and two days before that, and two days before that. Just trust me."
I'm so excited that he's going to buy me a present from there! Knowing him, he's going to buy me lots of little things from there from now on. Because he's thoughtful and amazing like that.
Later that night we went out to eat on a double date with his brother and his new girlfriend. It was one of those mexican food places where you stand in line and build your own burritos, so nothing super fancy. I was barely wearing makeup, and I still felt like poop. After that, we played a few games of pool and went home. We sat on the couch and before we knew it, 5 hours had passed. That's what it's like with him, hours fly by like minutes.
I could go on and on about how wonderful he is, and how much I absolutely adore him, but it's safe to assume that it would make you gag, whoever you are.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Talking About Taking A Vacation
I got my income tax check the other day. I'll have some extra cash laying around after I get my car inspected. I'm not good with money, or regular vehicle maintenance. But, I'm trying to be a more responsible adult, and with that comes perks. Like my week of paid vacation, that I can take at any time.
So last night, after my lady tv shows went off, I held a conversation with my man friend. I told him since we are going to have a few hundred bucks each from the IRS, we should plan our vacation early. Because my uncle lives in Florida and has tons of room, I thought maybe we could fly down there and stay 4 or 5 days. And you know what he said to me? "I can't even think about getting on a plane until I have like, $3000 saved up. And I've never been a fan of Florida."
Humph.
First of all, that asshole has never had $3000 saved up that wasn't designated for something significant and important, and neither have I. And furthermore, I don't think I'll EVER have $3000 saved up. I'm not a saver. So sue me.
Secondly, that asshole has never been on a plane in his life, much less been to Florida. You can't judge a state by it's sport teams. That's just fucking ridiculous.
Third, and most likely, if he's worried about being the fattest asshole on the beach, he needs to get over it. I went last year and I felt like a sea cow, but I had a blast and I didn't let it effect my vacation negatively. That's just motivation for me to get my chunky monkey legs slimmed down on my exercise bike!
The conversation was not over, so I suggested maybe a drive down to New Orleans for a few days instead. I've been to New Orleans 3 or 4 times, and I love the old cemeteries, the night life is fun, and the food is incredible. He didn't totally shoot me down, but he made it pretty clear that New Orleans was not on the top of his to-do list. Basically, he wasn't in the mood to discuss any sort of vacation at all, because there was nothing that came out of my mouth that sounded good to him. He bummed me out, and he knew it.
I voiced out loud that I'll just go by myself. I don't NEED him to go with me anywhere, I just WANTED him to come with me somewhere. He's not alot of fun to travel with anyway.
We have been friends for almost 8 years, and we have never been out of the state together. We have friends spread all over Texas that we go to visit for long weekends, at least 10 times a year. Then I have some friends in Austin that I visit with at least once a year on my own. But 3 day weekends are not VACATIONS. A big trip requires early planning if you want to save money on a ticket.
Anyway, I'm done. I'm going out for drinks with my sister at 7. Partly because I don't want to go home and have him bum me out again, and partly because I want to talk trash over a long island iced tea.
Happy weekend, whoever you are.
So last night, after my lady tv shows went off, I held a conversation with my man friend. I told him since we are going to have a few hundred bucks each from the IRS, we should plan our vacation early. Because my uncle lives in Florida and has tons of room, I thought maybe we could fly down there and stay 4 or 5 days. And you know what he said to me? "I can't even think about getting on a plane until I have like, $3000 saved up. And I've never been a fan of Florida."
Humph.
First of all, that asshole has never had $3000 saved up that wasn't designated for something significant and important, and neither have I. And furthermore, I don't think I'll EVER have $3000 saved up. I'm not a saver. So sue me.
Secondly, that asshole has never been on a plane in his life, much less been to Florida. You can't judge a state by it's sport teams. That's just fucking ridiculous.
Third, and most likely, if he's worried about being the fattest asshole on the beach, he needs to get over it. I went last year and I felt like a sea cow, but I had a blast and I didn't let it effect my vacation negatively. That's just motivation for me to get my chunky monkey legs slimmed down on my exercise bike!
The conversation was not over, so I suggested maybe a drive down to New Orleans for a few days instead. I've been to New Orleans 3 or 4 times, and I love the old cemeteries, the night life is fun, and the food is incredible. He didn't totally shoot me down, but he made it pretty clear that New Orleans was not on the top of his to-do list. Basically, he wasn't in the mood to discuss any sort of vacation at all, because there was nothing that came out of my mouth that sounded good to him. He bummed me out, and he knew it.
I voiced out loud that I'll just go by myself. I don't NEED him to go with me anywhere, I just WANTED him to come with me somewhere. He's not alot of fun to travel with anyway.
We have been friends for almost 8 years, and we have never been out of the state together. We have friends spread all over Texas that we go to visit for long weekends, at least 10 times a year. Then I have some friends in Austin that I visit with at least once a year on my own. But 3 day weekends are not VACATIONS. A big trip requires early planning if you want to save money on a ticket.
Anyway, I'm done. I'm going out for drinks with my sister at 7. Partly because I don't want to go home and have him bum me out again, and partly because I want to talk trash over a long island iced tea.
Happy weekend, whoever you are.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Inches
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Playlist Part 1: Pop
My exercise bike is finally put together!
There is something about music that makes exercise easier. For me, it's two things: the beat and the timing. Working out to a beat makes for less mental stress, especially if I love the song. Timing, on the other hand, signals to me when I'm close to the finish line. If I know I only have 3 songs left to go, it makes that last 10 minutes come and go a lot faster.
Here is a super poppy workout playlist I've put together.
"F**K You" - Cee Lo Green
"Bad Romance" - Lady Gaga
"Price Tag" - Jessie J
"Hey Ya" -Outkast
"I'm Sexy And I Know It" - LMFAO
"Born This Way" - Lady Gaga
"What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger" - Kelly Clarkson
"The Edge Of Glory" - Lady Gaga
"Rolling In The Deep" - Adele
There is something about music that makes exercise easier. For me, it's two things: the beat and the timing. Working out to a beat makes for less mental stress, especially if I love the song. Timing, on the other hand, signals to me when I'm close to the finish line. If I know I only have 3 songs left to go, it makes that last 10 minutes come and go a lot faster.
Here is a super poppy workout playlist I've put together.
"F**K You" - Cee Lo Green
"Bad Romance" - Lady Gaga
"Price Tag" - Jessie J
"Hey Ya" -Outkast
"I'm Sexy And I Know It" - LMFAO
"Born This Way" - Lady Gaga
"What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger" - Kelly Clarkson
"The Edge Of Glory" - Lady Gaga
"Rolling In The Deep" - Adele
Friday, December 16, 2011
Camping For Christmas and Plans For The New Year
This year I went on a family Christmas camping trip with my father's side. on the way there, I got lost not once, not twice, but three times (and a total of 5 hours) until my dad met up with me and escorted me to the campgrounds. Frustration doesn't even begin to define what I was feeling.
Thankfully, once I arrived, I was greeted warmly and I was able to make jokes on myself for not being able to find my way out of a paper bag. We sat around a fire and told lies, my dad and uncle smoked meats on the grill, my cousin caught numerous catfish, and I taught my tipsy aunts how to line dance. Needless to say, it was a very country Christmas, and I'll definitely be going next year.
I couldn't help but notice how out of shape I am while I was there. I was trudging down to the lake in mud boots, following my aunt to where my cousin and sisters were fishing. It was mostly down hill, which wasn't a problem. I held my adult beverage and cigarette the whole time without slipping on my ass or my face. But that walk back up the hill caused me to put out my cigarette and gulp for air. It was less than a quarter of a mile, both ways. I blamed my smoking habit, but I know it was my lack of exercise over the last 3 years. The whole time I was struggling to breathe, I kept telling myself how ridiculous this is. I should be able to do this!
A little background: I moved to Montana in 2007 with the (empty) promise of a new job in the corporate world of financing and loans. I passed all the tests, was qualified, and waited around for 6 months, and still didn't hear back from anyone with a specific start date. While I was waiting, I took advantage of the scenery. Montana doesn't have a whole lot going for it if you crave a city life. But those mountains and ancient trails are incredible. I hiked part of the Lewis and Clark trails, and hiked up a very steep plateau called Buffalo Jump. I walked through big fields and got chased by a heard of black cattle (terrifying, but the point is, I could out RUN them!), and discovered a love for Pilate's.
In Montana, I lost a lot of weight. I didn't put myself on a diet, I didn't set myself a goal. I did things that I liked to do, without putting any mental strain on myself. I drank beer and liqueur and wine and smoked cigarettes. I ate whatever I wanted to.
Since I've been back home in Texas, I let myself go again. I'm not nearly the 330 I was in high school, but I'm inching my way back up there. I don't work out at all, and I eat terribly. My body aches, and it's a struggle for me to stretch. I don't want to set myself a weight loss goal, or put myself on another crash diet. I don't want to try just to fail and gain even more weight.
Instead, I'll consider the advice that I got from an amazing blogger: 30 minutes of movement, 5 times a week. And to accomplish this, I have an exercise bike in my living room. It's not put together yet (my man friend is helping me with that) but between that, and playing Wii, I'll be happy with whatever results I get. After a month, I'll increase my time, and take it up to another level. Maybe by this time next year I'll splurge and join a gym (very unlikely)!
First, I want to stretch my stamina and flexibility. I'll start with 30 minutes on the bike 3 times a week, and 30 minutes on Wii Fit the other 2 days. This is a realistic minimum for me. If I'm sitting on my ass watching TV, why can't I bike on my ass while watching TV? I just got a used Wii and the balance board for $60. I haven't owned a game console since Nintendo 64, so this is a major upgrade for me. There's no reason at all why I CAN'T.
Then, I want to fit comfortably into my clothes. I'll start with the ones I have now, and I won't buy any more jeans until I have absolutely nothing to cover my ass at all during this process. I have my old size 14 jeans in my closet, with adorable deer on the back pocket, and they will stay there until they can be worn again. No pressure. They're not going anywhere.
The numbers game doesn't interest me much, because I don't strive to be any particular weight. I just want my clothes to fit. I learned a long time ago that those 3 numbers on the scale can break you down and make you loose your sense of well being, no matter how you FEEL. Sure, I'll keep track of the numbers, but with my amazing new scale that measures water weight, muscle and bones, and total weight. I'll even share them, because I am not ashamed, and those 3 numbers will not make or break me.
For now, I'll keep my goals small, take it slow, and keep it very realistic. I'll celebrate my success, and I'll share my setbacks. I know loosing weight is the most cliche resolution in the world, but that's not what this is about. This is about getting myself healthy again. This is about getting myself moving, not striving to be someone I'm not.
TO DO:
1. put my exercise bike together
2. make a workout play list
3. get a 2012 calender
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Just Because You Can't See, That Doesn't Mean You Can't Look Good!
So, I sell eyeglasses: it's what I do, and I'm damn good at it. I've been in the business since I was 17, so that's 9 years now. It's a good job that didn't require a college degree, and I don't need to keep up a license. I love helping people pick out glasses, so I figured I would help you out too.
WARNING: there is a LOT of information here. If you have any questions, please feel free to let me know.
WHY YOU NEED CUTE SPECS
If you wear contacts, you need glasses as a backup. What happens if you wake up with a nasty eye infection from sleeping with your makeup on and your contacts in? I firmly believe that if you're afraid of glasses, or you don't like the way you look in them, someone has not done you justice. There are too many options out there to not own something adorable and affordable that fits perfectly. It's kind of like a cute bra that fits like a glove: very necessary for some of us, and why shouldn't it be cute? This is your FACE!
THE COST OF LOOKIN' GOOD
If you're lucky enough to have it, research your insurance options. Contact the company directly and get a list of in network providers. Some companies will offer a free pair once a year to their employees. In some states, you can claim glasses and contacts under the medical section when you file your taxes!
If you're unlucky like me and you don't have insurance, be smart and shop around. Be weary of knock offs, and deals that are too good to be true, because they usually are. Always make sure you understand your warranty and exchange options, and keep copies of your receipts.
DOLLARS AND SENSE
Your first step is to get your eyes examined, because the price of glasses is based on the prescription. Depending on the strength, you may have restrictions to what you can wear. A professional optician can help you choose what's best for your needs, while explaining your options. If you don't feel comfortable with the person helping you, ask someone else's opinion. Or try another store, but don't settle! You should feel comfortable and confident in your purchase.
A nice complete pair of name brand eyeglasses (think Vogue, or RayBan) should cost you around $300, depending on your prescription. Then there are the designer glasses (Versace, Prada, Fendi) that can easily and quickly reach $500-$1000. Of course, if you're not interested in name brands, you can always go to WalMart or a bargain basement optical shop and find a pair under $100. Just remember, you get what you pay for!
FRAME OPTIONS
You can pre-shop online, but I don't recommend purchasing online. There is too much room for error, and the final product is typically poorly manufactured. If you prefer to do your research online, there are tons of websites with try on options where you can upload your picture and virtually "try on" different shapes. You'll come across face charts, but they aren't as helpful as a human in a mirror. If your face is round, you want to choose something with angles that will bring out the lines in your face. If you have a square jaw, you want some curves to soften your features.
FINDING THE RIGHT FIT
There are 3 main numbers to look for when sizing glasses. The first is width, and it ranges from 45-70 millimeters. The second number is going to be the nose bridge measurement. The third number is the length behind your ear. Kind of like jeans, all brands size differently. A size 18 in one brand might be a size 22 in another. Most manufacturers (not just glasses) aren't plus size considerate, and you really need to TRY THINGS ON for the best fit. There are sizes on every single pair of glasses on a shelf, and some of them are specifically built for full faces. Covergirl had a line called "Designed to Fit," and Queen Latifiah modeled for them. There are some other brands, but not very many. If you find a frame online you're in love with, write it down and there's a good chance someone can order it for you. Go into a store and bring a friend, or let a friendly professional help you narrow down your options. Just like picking out clothes and shoes, only YOU know what you like and what feels right.
WARNING: there is a LOT of information here. If you have any questions, please feel free to let me know.
WHY YOU NEED CUTE SPECS
If you wear contacts, you need glasses as a backup. What happens if you wake up with a nasty eye infection from sleeping with your makeup on and your contacts in? I firmly believe that if you're afraid of glasses, or you don't like the way you look in them, someone has not done you justice. There are too many options out there to not own something adorable and affordable that fits perfectly. It's kind of like a cute bra that fits like a glove: very necessary for some of us, and why shouldn't it be cute? This is your FACE!
THE COST OF LOOKIN' GOOD
If you're lucky enough to have it, research your insurance options. Contact the company directly and get a list of in network providers. Some companies will offer a free pair once a year to their employees. In some states, you can claim glasses and contacts under the medical section when you file your taxes!
If you're unlucky like me and you don't have insurance, be smart and shop around. Be weary of knock offs, and deals that are too good to be true, because they usually are. Always make sure you understand your warranty and exchange options, and keep copies of your receipts.
DOLLARS AND SENSE
Your first step is to get your eyes examined, because the price of glasses is based on the prescription. Depending on the strength, you may have restrictions to what you can wear. A professional optician can help you choose what's best for your needs, while explaining your options. If you don't feel comfortable with the person helping you, ask someone else's opinion. Or try another store, but don't settle! You should feel comfortable and confident in your purchase.
A nice complete pair of name brand eyeglasses (think Vogue, or RayBan) should cost you around $300, depending on your prescription. Then there are the designer glasses (Versace, Prada, Fendi) that can easily and quickly reach $500-$1000. Of course, if you're not interested in name brands, you can always go to WalMart or a bargain basement optical shop and find a pair under $100. Just remember, you get what you pay for!
FRAME OPTIONS
You can pre-shop online, but I don't recommend purchasing online. There is too much room for error, and the final product is typically poorly manufactured. If you prefer to do your research online, there are tons of websites with try on options where you can upload your picture and virtually "try on" different shapes. You'll come across face charts, but they aren't as helpful as a human in a mirror. If your face is round, you want to choose something with angles that will bring out the lines in your face. If you have a square jaw, you want some curves to soften your features.
FINDING THE RIGHT FIT
There are 3 main numbers to look for when sizing glasses. The first is width, and it ranges from 45-70 millimeters. The second number is going to be the nose bridge measurement. The third number is the length behind your ear. Kind of like jeans, all brands size differently. A size 18 in one brand might be a size 22 in another. Most manufacturers (not just glasses) aren't plus size considerate, and you really need to TRY THINGS ON for the best fit. There are sizes on every single pair of glasses on a shelf, and some of them are specifically built for full faces. Covergirl had a line called "Designed to Fit," and Queen Latifiah modeled for them. There are some other brands, but not very many. If you find a frame online you're in love with, write it down and there's a good chance someone can order it for you. Go into a store and bring a friend, or let a friendly professional help you narrow down your options. Just like picking out clothes and shoes, only YOU know what you like and what feels right.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Pale as Porcelain & Pleasantly Plump
"Fat looks good tan." That's what I used to say. And believe me, the proof is in my pudding like legs.
A few years ago, I got over the fear of tanning beds collapsing under my weight, thus trapping me inside a glass coffin of UV rays and death. I would put my ear buds in, listen to something nice, and zone out for up to 15 minutes. Within a week or two, an amazing optical allusion had accrued. My chunky monkey legs seemed to thin out, and my cellulite was not nearly as visible. I admired my strong, thick thighs, although they were by no means smaller. I liked the way I looked, but the facts of melanoma are strong deterrents. I don't tan anymore for many reasons. Partly because of the financial burden, partly because oompa loompa orange is not my color. Mostly, because tan doesn't equal beautiful.
I am a very pale girl, almost translucent, with all my veins in my arms and hands blue and quite visible. I like to joke that I glow in the dark, especially naked. I don't have any deep seeded issues with this, thanks in part to my wonderful man friend who likes how milky white my complexion is. I like it too, especially next to his light brown skin.
Despite his support, for some reason, I feel more confident with a tan. My family tree is chronically caucasian, except for a smidgen of American Indian on my mothers side. I'm not very athletic or outdoorsy, so there's no reason I would be tanned "naturally." There's no way in hell I'd be caught on the beach in a bikini without some color on my skin, and the most I get makes my tiny white stretchmarks pink. But that little kiss of UV rays makes me feel better. It makes me want to work out more, to wear sleeveless shirts and shorts. My mother would gladly pay for a membership to a tanning salon, but that's not what I want. I don't want to have to rely on a fake bake tan to feel better about myself.
A few years ago, I got over the fear of tanning beds collapsing under my weight, thus trapping me inside a glass coffin of UV rays and death. I would put my ear buds in, listen to something nice, and zone out for up to 15 minutes. Within a week or two, an amazing optical allusion had accrued. My chunky monkey legs seemed to thin out, and my cellulite was not nearly as visible. I admired my strong, thick thighs, although they were by no means smaller. I liked the way I looked, but the facts of melanoma are strong deterrents. I don't tan anymore for many reasons. Partly because of the financial burden, partly because oompa loompa orange is not my color. Mostly, because tan doesn't equal beautiful.
I am a very pale girl, almost translucent, with all my veins in my arms and hands blue and quite visible. I like to joke that I glow in the dark, especially naked. I don't have any deep seeded issues with this, thanks in part to my wonderful man friend who likes how milky white my complexion is. I like it too, especially next to his light brown skin.
Despite his support, for some reason, I feel more confident with a tan. My family tree is chronically caucasian, except for a smidgen of American Indian on my mothers side. I'm not very athletic or outdoorsy, so there's no reason I would be tanned "naturally." There's no way in hell I'd be caught on the beach in a bikini without some color on my skin, and the most I get makes my tiny white stretchmarks pink. But that little kiss of UV rays makes me feel better. It makes me want to work out more, to wear sleeveless shirts and shorts. My mother would gladly pay for a membership to a tanning salon, but that's not what I want. I don't want to have to rely on a fake bake tan to feel better about myself.
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