That Was Better

Yesterday went much better as far as controlling the raging PMS monster goes. I refrained from processed sugars and carbs and ate oatmeal, lean protein in the form of ground turkey breast and beans and plenty of fruit. While I didn't manage to get in a work-out, I did get some movement in during the day simply by running the million and ten errands that I had on my To-Do list.

So, better. Not great but, better.

Today is shaping up to be another really busy day but I am confident that I can stick to the program, mainly because I exercised first thing this morning rather than putting it off until later in the day when I will, no doubt, be too tired and scattered to attempt anything as simple as a deep knee bend and, probably not even that.

So, onward and downward, referring, naturally, to the number on the scale.

One Battle Does Not the War Make

So, losing one battle should not derail the progress train, right? God, let's hope not because, yesterday, the train sort of jumped the tracks courtesy of a handful of Chex Mix, a couple of servings of Goldfish Pretzels and a package of the Man-Cub's fruit snacks.

To my credit, I resisted anything featuring more processed sugar than the fruit snacks but, not without a degree of difficulty on par with throwing a triple Axel off a diving board while wearing Rollerblades which is to say, it was not easy.

Welcome to PMS Hell Week, where initiation into the sorority of Phi Betta Fatty consists of craving sugar until your teeth literally ache, the absurd desire for carbohydrates featuring as much fat and salt as is scientifically possible and a sudden decrease in energy, stamina, willpower, dedication and common sense.

Yaaaaayyyyy, Sisterhood!!!!

One Pound

145.2

I would be discouraged but, hey, a pound is a pound and; I never said this was going to be a get-thin-fast plan. So, one pound a week for, oh, eight or nine months and I'll be at my goal weight. In the grand scheme of things, eight or nine months really isn't that long, hell, babies take that long to cook so, I'll just think of this as the equivelent of a pregnancy except, instead of giving birth to a baby at the end of it, I'll give birth to a brand new me.

I kind of like that analogy.

And, the diet isn't killing me. I am satisfied with what I'm eating. I have no hunger pains nor moments of  complete and utter desperation (yet) in fact, I managed to abstain from eating pizza and cupcakes at the Man-Cub's birthday party yesterday as well as refraining from eating any of the soft sugar cookies that I made for his football team.

I have a busy week planned; one of my best friends will be visiting for the weekend and, yet, I'm not worried. I know I will find time to fit in my daily workouts and I will eat well. I just will; otherwise this "pregnancy" is going to go the route of the elephants and, we can't have that.

It's Going to Take Time, It's Going to Take Time, It's Going to...

Yesterday was a total bust as far as exercise goes; I spent the entire day running from errand to meeting to errand to appointment to errand with no time in between. Fortunately, my diet was in no way derailed by the clusterfuck that was my day and, I need to remind myself that maintaining a healthy diet is 80% of this battle; the exercise snafu won't send me spiraling downward to binge oblivion as long as I continue to focus on my sucesses rather than on my failures.

Besides, today, I am back on track with the exercise program, increasing my workout from 30 minutes to 47 by starting Phase 2 of the Slim in 6 program. I managed to do every rep of every exercise with the exception of one; front squat with a side lift, of which I wussed out and skipped two or three. Nothing fatal and, my muscles are fatigued in a very good way.

Tomorrow, I intend to do Phase 2 again and I have vowed to stay away from the pizza and cupcakes that we will be serving at the Man-Cub's birthday party. I have no reason to believe that I can't do it, given that I have managed to stay faithful to this program for eleven, count 'em, eleven whole days.

I'll take to the podium for my medal, now.

Well, That Went Better Than Expected

I managed to remain faithful to my diet and exercise program for the entirety of my parent’s visit. Not only that but, I turned my parents on to a couple of healthy dishes that I prepared for our dinners which, since my dad’s recent heart attack, is a very good thing.

The dishes were a chicken, corn and black bean burrito filling and turkey chili, both of which I made in the Crockpot so that we would have a hot meal waiting for us after The Teenager’s volleyball game on Tuesday and the Man-Cub’s football game last night. I can’t say enough good things about the Crockpot; it has become a lifesaver in staying the course on this new healthy eating plan.

So, the rest of the week I will face the challenge of the Man-Cub’s birthday cookies and cupcakes. I don’t foresee too much problem with either of these things but, the pizza served at the party at the amusement park could prove to be my downfall, although, maybe not; I am in an unusually Zen-like place with my diet, recently.

Of course, it is still early in my hormonal pattern; I look for the cravings to hit sometime next week. We'll see how well a simple Crockpot helps, then.

My Body Is No Longer Amused

I have reached the part in my exercise program wherein my body cocks one eyebrow at me and says, "Seriously? We are still doing this?" before staging a coup by throwing some random-and painful-irritant at me. Currently, that would be a pain in my right big toe.

Now, thanks to a visit to the nice podiatrist a couple of years ago, I am fully aware that I have a bone spur growing on the top of said big toe. And, I realize that some forms of exercise are bound to aggravate the spur but, come on! I'm doing so well, don't try to screw with me, now, foot. Just, don't.

So, I am going to take a couple of Tylenol and ignore the pain and, since it didn't stop me from doing my workout this morning (did it early, knowing that, with my parents visiting, the Man-Cub's football game and a night of cookie decorating for his birthday tomorrow, I wouldn't have a chance to do it at my regular time this afternoon. DEDICATION!), I am going to assume that it won't derail me on down the line.

Should it attempt to do so, however, I have also threatened it with a sternly worded lecture about the ready availability of foot surgeons in our area; I'll cut the bitch.

I will.

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I seriously teared up this morning while watching a YouTube clip of last night’s Dancing With the Stars, you know the one, the one where Jennifer Grey channels her inner Patrick Swayze and does him PROUD.

Seriously, I teared up. She just looked so graceful and lovely and, my god, people, she’s fifty. Fifty! I want to look like that when I’m fifty, hell; I want to look like that now, um minus the obvious plastic surgery, of course.

But, really, I would love to have a dancer’s body, all long, lean and limber. A lot of the exercises I do right now are concentrated on building up my muscle mass, particularly in my legs, ass, thighs and abs but; I think regular Pilates and yoga practice will help to lengthen those muscles so they don’t become bulky. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.

Pilates, though? That shit is tough. I was doing it pretty regularly a while back with a trainer who is really good at it and my core was never stronger. Obviously, that is no longer the case and it will take months to build back up to that level of strength however, since I’ve arrived at the obvious conclusion that this little project of mine is going to take at least a year, I have time. I just have to get started.

Now I have an inspirational clip to watch on the days when I just don’t feel like doing that and, I have Baby to thank for it.

Sure, On The Surface, This Looks Promising

Today was weigh-in day and I’m down six pounds to 146.4. I would throw a little party to celebrate such a momentous achievement were it not for the fact that I don’t think that number on the scale is an accurate indicator of weight loss. I say that because, when I weighed myself last Monday, I was on the very cusp of a visit from Aunt Flo and, I’m always at my thinnest weight during the week of my period. Common sense tells me that the inflated number on last week’s scale was a result of water retention the likes of which would make a sea cow envious and not an actual indicator of my weight.

So, today’s number is probably closer to what my weight most accurately is during the other three weeks of the month, ergo, I have lost no weight.

Rats.

But, Chelle, you say; you stuck to a healthy diet and exercised regularly, surely that counts for something! But, not really for, you see, another interesting quirk of Mother Nature’s is to endow me with dedication, determination and willpower for one week a month, during which I just happen to be surfing the Crimson Tide. The next three weeks will be an exercise in frustration, temptation and sloth. I know the pattern.

On the other hand, knowing one’s enemy is the first step in beating him, right? And, half the battle is won by merely showing up. With that in mind, I’m going to make a concerted effort to stick to the program this week, a week that will be especially challenging given that my parents will be visiting for a few days, the Man-Cub’s birthday party will be held on Sunday and I no longer have the Get Off My Ass And Exercise hormone surging through my system.

Wish me luck.

Diagnosis: Exercise Induced Tourette’s Syndrome

Yep, we have entered that portion of the program. I knew it was coming so, it’s not like it’s any surprise but, still; I doubt other people enjoy hearing me involuntarily curse out loud when I do something as simple as getting out of my car at the Walmarts (always be sure to tack an s onto the end if you want to sound klassy).

Granted, I wouldn’t have the Tourette’s if it weren’t for the fact that I have been so good about sticking to my exercise routine so, I really can’t complain and, stick to it I have; I haven’t missed a day’s workout since Tuesday (four whole days! Someone give me a medal!). I’ve been really good about watching what I eat as well.

While I would love to say that I am confident that I have turned a corner in my wellness style, I don’t believe that is entirely accurate as, in the past, I have managed to do well on this quest during the week of Aunt Flo’s monthly visitation; I’m sure it has to do with hormone surges or something.

So, next week and the two weeks after it will pose the largest challenge to my dedication to this new way of living; I hope I will be up to the challenge.

In the meanwhile, it shouldn’t take too long for the Tourette’s to abate; I just have to continue to work out and to stretch well following the exercise. Hot baths don’t hurt and I’ve heard that red wine is helpful in reducing muscular inflammation.

Too bad wine is my gateway drug to overindulgence shitfuckdamn!

This Does Not Bode Well

Day three of Torture by Fitness started off on an ominous note; I discovered that two of my favorite sports bras have not weathered our separation well, not well at all. By which I mean, I went to my dresser, dug deeeeep into the back of the drawer and unearthed the bras for the first time in, um…well, in long enough for the elastic in them to disintegrate to dust.

I’m not even kidding; they crunched when I lifted them from the drawer. They crunched! The elastic was so brittle; it had crumbled to dust inside the binding.

Now, most people would see that as a sign, stuff the bras back in the drawer and head to the kitchen for a nice warm brownie sundae and, please don’t think for one second that I didn’t entertain that idea, myself.

Instead, I rifled through another drawer until I found the running bra that I was using most recently and my workout went on as planned.

No need to applaud, although I got through the workout and managed to eat well all day, the vision of that warm brownie sundae danced in my head the entire time. I’m only human, after all.

Hurts So Good

As predicted, yesterday was a much better day. For whatever reason, I let Aunt Flo catch me off guard and, after making her acquaintance almost thirty years ago, you would think I would know better. Anyway, now that I am back to tracking my calories and exercise, I will also track my PMS symptoms and, with any luck, once I lose some weight and balance out my diet, the symptoms will abate. At least, that’s what has happened in the past when I was eating right and exercising consistently.

On the topic of exercise, yesterday I managed to get through the first phase in the Slim in 6 series, which is the DVD program that I used to lose all the weight the last time.

Phase one lasts 27 minutes and includes squats, front and back lunges, plies, push-ups and ab work with a bit of cardio thrown in for good measure and, while I managed to get through it; I could feel my legs tightening up and knew that I would be one hurting unit, today.

So, when I was done with Slim in 6, I went for a 3 mile walk/slow jog around the park while the Man-Cub practiced football. The walk helped to stretch my leg muscles and, I’m quite pleased to report that, while I am sore today, I have not entered the Exercise-Induced Tourette’s Syndrome portion of the program; no need to involuntarily curse every time I attempt to sit on the toilet, shift from sitting to standing or to walk up or down the stairs.

That’s progress.

Granted, today I will revisit Phase One and tomorrow could be a completely different story.

On the diet front, yesterday was also a success; I managed to hit my calorie goal and I made good choices, just like Jamie Lee Curtis urged Lindsey Lohan to do in that movie the two of them did together some time back and, yes, that is what my feeble little brain stem thinks of every time I hear that phrase so, while my choices in food were good yesterday, my choices in entertainment have not always been so notable.

I can live with that.

That Went Spectacularly Well. NOT

You know what they say about the road to hell, right? Well then, yesterday was a straight shot, no curves, no speed bumps path straight to the fiery gates and beyond.

I am so frustrated with myself. I did great in the morning, yogurt, fruit, plenty of water, only one cup of half-caff with a smidge of half-n-half. Lunch was fine, I ate my Lean Cuisine and drank some more water and sang my own praises until, around 4:00 when I developed a raging headache (sugar detox?) and slipped into eating a couple of handfuls of pretzel nuggets. Still not the end of the world, right?

I figured I would walk off the extra 200 calories at the park later that evening (pipe dreams; they aren’t just for reality show contestants!) but, by the time I got off work and made my way to the park I was crashing and, sitting in the car with a book seemed like a much nicer way to spend my time.

Arrrg!!!!

Once we got home, I ate a bowl of Healthy Choice soup, added up my calories for the day, found myself somehow miraculously under my calorie limit and just about sprained my arm patting myself on the back.

Two hours later, I was in the kitchen licking the cream cheese frosting off the lid of a container that held the last cinnamon roll in existence, or, so you would have thought judging by the way I snarffed that mother down.

What. The. Fuck.

I used to be able to control myself. I used to be able to talk myself into making good choices, where has all my self-restraint gone?

My period woke me up at three o’clock this morning.

Oh.

That explains a lot.

And, today WILL be a better day.

Ok, So Preliminary Estimates of My Weight May Have Been a Leeetle Optimistic

152.4. Wow. I haven’t weighed this much since I was nine and a half months pregnant with The Teenager. I’m….not very happy about this; at least back then I was incubating a human fetus, right now I'm just incubating frustration and dismay.

So, yeah, the recent decision to get my shit together was a timely one, at the rate I’m going currently, I will outweigh my husband by Christmas and…I can’t have that. I just can’t.

That having been said, its day one; so far I have eaten a healthy breakfast of Greek yogurt and blueberries, had an apple for a snack and a pre-portioned microwaveable meal from Lean Cuisine for lunch which, I realize, isn’t the best option but certainly makes calorie-counting easier and, for right now, easier is best.

After work this evening, I plan to take a brisk walk around the park while the Man-Cub practices with his football team and, later, to eat a healthy dinner consisting of homemade minestrone and a big green salad.

With any luck, I will keep sugar cravings at bay but, if not, I plan to ignore them while sipping iced tea in a hot bath, a trick that I picked up the last time I dieted successfully.

Oh, and I need to stop calling this a diet and start training my brain to think of it as a lifestyle, because, that’s what all the books say to do. We’ll see how that goes.

Anyway, onward and downward, referring, of course, to the number on the scale.
 
152.4. Wow.

Not FAT But, Fat For ME

At 5'5" and just under 150 pounds, there are not many people who would consider me fat, I’ll get that out right away. And, while my weight certainly falls within a healthy range for my height, it also falls to the far, far right of that scale (when, not too long ago, it fell to the left).

The far right is not where I want to be. The far right makes me tired and lethargic and causes my clothing not to fit and my feet to hurt and my head to spin when I look at myself in the mirror and; I've had a lot of head spinning moments, lately.

 It’s my fault, I’ll get that out right away as well; I eat crappy foods, exercise less consistently than I should and I allow sugar cravings to rule my life. As I’ve said, I wasn’t always like this, in fact, as recently as two years ago, I was eating a healthy diet, mostly abstaining from sweets and working out on a regular basis which, was a tremendous improvement over how I was treating my body two years before that; are you sensing a theme, here?


Yeah.

The same thirty pounds have been my nemesis since college, I gain them, wallow in my misery for a few years, rededicate myself to taking care of myself, lose them, keep them off for a number of years and then slide right back off the wagon. It is maddening. But, no more, this time, I’m going to lose the weight differently (and, I am going to lose it, oh yes, I am); I’m going to do the things that I know work, I’m going to cut back on calories, journal every bite of food that goes into my mouth, I’m going to drink plenty of water, refrain from the Devil Sugar and, I’m going to move my ass.

It’s a simple formula but, as I said, one that has worked for me in the past.

What I’m not going to do is rush myself, this is going to take time and I need to accept that fact. I’m not going to cut my calories so drastically that my metabolism shuts down and I’m not going to exercise myself into an injury (Plantar Fasciitis derailed me the last time, not going to happen again) and I’m not going to sabotage my progress with total self-deprivation, there will be an occasional cheat-night on this plan, wait, scratch that, it’s not cheating, it’s rewarding the other 98% of the time that I plan to do well.

Also, I’m going to celebrate my achievements. I’m going to indulge in things, people, and experiences that I love rather than sedating myself with fat and sugar. I’m going to record my experience here and, while it may sometimes consist of complaints about sore muscles and confessions regarding the near-overwhelming urge to throttle random strangers on the street (detox from sugar causes wild mood swings, hence the existence of The Twinkie Defense), I’m going to be honest and, one day, I hope to be able to look back and revel in my success.

So, next up: Monday morning initial weigh-in and The Beginning. In the meantime, one last day of slovenly indulgence.

Baby steps, you know.