I admit, my latest posts have been pretty depressing. I have been motivated to write about the things that really upset me or get me ticked off. I'm not appologizing, but I am just sayin'. So today, I want to list the good stuff in my pretty good week.
1. My boss was out of the office this week, which meant I could get work done in peace.
2. I had a good week of eating.
3. I tried a new fitness class, and liked it.
4. The weather was nice, so I got to go for a walk with my Sweetheart.
5. I was asked to apply for a new job. I polished off my resume, and it looks really good.
6. I saw the movie, Paul. It was goofy and very enjoyable.
7. I slept a bit more this week, thanks to adjusting to the time zone.
8. My Sweetheart and I had a great meeting with the priest who will marry us.
9. I haven't been biting my nails.
10. I have been in touch with old friends.
So, now, if everything goes tits up, I can go back to this list and keep positive.
I have a visual of a cheap, leisure suited man.. sweaty palms.. spinach in teeth.. smarmy.. trying to sell me a bill of sale that just doesn't seem right. Except it isn't a Car this time: it is my fitness plan; it is my healthy food choices.
While I know I have done the research, planned all the best food choices in my cupboard, I still try to sell myself on that extra piece of cheese, one more dinner out with heavy gravies and sugary syrups, and staying home to watch reruns of House instead of running. Why do I play such mind games with my health? I am slowly.. no wait, not so slowly, killing myself. It is insane.
I try to knowingly kill myself because the evidence isn't immediate. It is all smoke and mirrors.
I really worry about my ability to keep self control. I like to think that I can do it and I am stronger and smarter and prepared. I spend lots of $$ on fitness trainers and nutritional counselors to build that support mechanism... yet still I am weak. I am one french fry away from a total food meltdown.
I have made no secrets thus far about my mother's complete lack of happiness about my impending nuptials. It is what it is, and there is nothing I can say or do about it to change her. However, it is getting to me. I feel robbed of my happiness. There are other people who have gone out of their way to be happy for me, and yet, it all doesn't matter because she isn't happy for me. I can't voice this enough.
Yesterday, I extended an Olive Branch to her and we went together to try some Wedding Dresses. This is a double whammy since I was combining wedding and body image issues in a single task. I just want to feel beautiful on this day. My mother had NOTHING nice to say. The best compliment I got was, 'well, I don't hate this one'. I feel pretty deflated. She wants to go with me to another Bridal Shop. I would rather get a limb amputated, sans anesthesia.
Today, all I had to do was look through books of invitations. It was a simple task that Sweetheart and I needed to do. I sulked the whole way through. I wanted nothing to do with the whole process. It was all expensive, or gaudy, or excessive. I couldn't find a single thing that inspired me. I soon realized that I was stealing the joy from my fiance, but acting just like my mother did. I lost it. I cried the whole way home. My wedding hasn't even happened and I already feel like it is completely ruined.
I am overly stressed out. None of this is going to bode well for my mental and physical well being. All I wanted to do was leave and stuff my face. Luckily, when I suggested we get ice cream, Sweetheart said, "Is this where I am supposed to be the asshole and say 'no ice cream?' " Love that man. I got a coffee instead and felt a bit better. I am going to a late Mass. Maybe Jesus can clear my head and my heart.
I never thought I would do this, but I am starting to find myself to be over critical of people who are fat.
I have a consultant working for me and I find myself constantly checking her work. Why? Cause she gives me the lazy vibe. Yup, she's fat. She sighs a lot when she shuffles through the office. She takes extra breaks because she smokes. Her clothes don't fit well, so she looks disheveled. She is constantly snacking at her cube, or getting up to get snacks or drinks. Productivity appears lower than other staff.
While all the above is true, she also does the workload that has been presented to her. I have not been dissatisfied with any of the results she has provided. This being said, I keep thinking that she could be doing more. Really, she just pisses me off because I used to be her and could easily be her again. I want her to do better, because if she can't, maybe I can't either. Self doubt is a real Bitch. I wish there was something I could do that was somewhat professional, where I could give her the hint of moving and eating less. I know there isn't, cause how self-righteous is that?! But, I still want to.
I took a training class this week with one other person. She was slow. Yup. She was fat. But she wasn't that far off from my current size. Still, I was not interested in waiting for her to catch up. I really didn't want to work on her success. I just wanted to do my thing. The point of a group training is to inspire one another. I wasn't having it. Instead, I kept thinking this chic is just too slow for me. I hated the class, as a result. I ruined my own workout, which normally gives me such joy. Well, maybe not joy, but it lets me burn off all my excess asshole anger.
So, here's to trying to lose my own bullshit. Today, I am hateful. What an ass am I....
So, I am pretty pissed at myself now that I see how much I have been slacking. I need to get my head out of my ass. To counter this, I have been using this new found anger to kick my own ass. As Awesome trainer Debbie is no longer at my gym, I tried a semi-private group class. I left totally bored. I thought that it was supposed to keep some personalization to it. Otherwise, it is the same as walking into a class offered at a big-box gym. I hated it. Luckily, I did not pay for it. I also think I am really pissed at the owner who let Debbie go, so I am finding reasons not to like it. I am not ready to give up the goat with the place yet, but we shall see.
So, I called Debbie. I have been dying for weeks to train with her. As she is awesome, she said she was working out for herself and said I could come.. How cool?!? I am training with my super cool trainer... TOTALLY MOTIVATING. We worked hard. I hurt this morning and I couldn't be more happy about it. I felt pushed and worked to that 'oh shit' point so many times and so many sets. And we laughed. And we cursed.
I know this sounds funny, but if I can't easily bitch through the hard parts of a workout, it isn't fun. I never (well very seldom) say can't or won't. I do the reps I am told at the weight I am told. But I will curse through it. More cursing = Better Workout
Hopefully, I can stay pissed enough to blow through some serious burn over the next few weeks.
Reading a book: Intuitive Eating by Evelyn Tribole. I bought it about a year ago and blew threw it. I don't remember anything I read, so I am giving it a go again. Anyone else read it?
Last year, on Fat Tuesday, I weighed 255.5 lbs. Today, I weigh 228.3. Any loss is a win, and I value that piece of my health returning to me. But really, that is 27.2 lbs in a year. I can do so much better. I think I am looking at this all wrong. I have been measuring total loss across the journey, but that timeline is getting longer and longer. I am stretching out the time to my goal way too thin. This is my life: my whole life and I am fudging around with it.
No more half way, regardless of pain, illness, weakness. Anything I do to make myself healthy will make me stronger. Even if it doesn't seem like it at the time.
So, for Lent, I give up the gluttony of excuses. This will be the hardest Lent I think I am going to ever have.
I need to get over myself, and quick.
In other news, I finally told my father I am getting married. He has been distant with me for about 2 years, ever since he has had money problems. He seemed somewhat happy for me, but his depression clouds his expression of emotion. He lost his health, and couldn't keep up with his finances. The US is fundamentally cruel to our seriously ill. He is another motivation, as I just can't stomach the idea of being him: super strong, then annihilated by a heart attack. My former invincible Dad has to sleep all day on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he can gather the strength to go to work and sit at a desk for 8 hours. God, I wish rest was enough. I know his lack of support effects my stress, but I need to use this event for good. Sometimes even negatives need to turn to positives.
I have had every desire in the world not to write on this blog. I have breezed in a few times over the last 60 days to watch all my favorite players, but I have basically laid low.
So here is my catch up: I've been running... a lot. I am still impressed with myself that I haven't caused any weird injuries and have been keeping up. My trainer Debbie quit my gym and I am conflicted about it. She was 'let go' because of personality clashes between her and the owner.. This makes me like the gym less, as Debbie is awesome. She of course, got another job right away, but it is far from my home. I don't know if I can realistically join there and be consistent. I have to create wins for myself and I definitely don't need another excuse, like distance, to avoid being fit.
I also went on a pretty life changing trip: I went to India for three weeks. New Delhi to be exact. It was like landing on another planet. I have never seen such wealth and such poverty all at the same time. Both tips of the scale made me incredibly uncomfortable: one, because how do you live with yourself being so excessive, and two, how do you not do everything in your power to improve your circumstance? But at the same time, when did I become so judgemental? Clearly, as an American, I believe in people driving their own destiny. This is totally the opposite of what I found in India. There, there is a strong belief that the Gods put you in your station in life, and that is where you belong. I could go on and on about the caste system, but its probably better you read about it on your own.
While there, I did take a trip to the Taj Mahal. I mean, if you are going to India, you have to go see the Taj. So, here it is, in all its glory. I learned some interesting things there. Indians like to take Westerner's picture. I think I am in at least 20 Indian's vacation albums. I am like a space alien to them: blond, and white as the driven snow. I had women pet me like a dog and children touch me to see if I was made of marshmallow.
Eating in India is a real conflict. Most dishes are vegetarian, but you can get some nice chicken and shrimp entrees. I tried to stick to the vegetarian, which I thought would be the best prepared and also the most healthy. I was wrong. Many vegetarian dishes are full of gravies and oils and clarified butters. They are heavy and sit your gullet. However, they are yummy. I have a new appreciation for cauliflower that I never thought I would get. I also have a new appreciation for sanitary conditions. During my last week there, I got violently ill. I have not been that sick in all my memory. It was like my body hit the eject button, continuously, for 5 days. Note to self: e coli is nasty. Cipro is brilliant.
Despite keeping up with my fitness and 5 whole days of expelling all possible nutrition from my body, I landed home on Tuesday and weighed 236 lbs. This was a wake up for me that I just need to get back on a real schedule. I can't continue to have crazy diversions in my diet, in my sleep, and in my stress. My body just can't hack it. I have been religious since I landed in my food intake. I'm still a bit sick, so my exercise is a bit muted, but I am getting there.
If India taught me anything, it is that I am so much more greatful for what I have, what I believe, and what I can become. I am recharged. I am again ready to make things happen for myself. Look out, here I come.
I am 36 and have been overweight for most of my life. There are much better things that define me, but till I work on this weight, it is the stinky fart in the room. So, I write this to keep accountable, to find inspiration in others, to rekindle the joy in myself.