Here I is!

That's what Monkey Man used to say to us when he was playing hide and seek, at least.

I've been around. Most of my daily life has been filled lately with counting points, running, and of course my stupid job which seems to take up way more of my life than necessary.

As far as my job goes, exactly how do I go for weeks with literally NOTHING to do all day long except shuffle papers around on my desk in an elaborate ruse to appear busy while my coworkers are getting the ax, and then suddenly this week I am so busy that I forget to pee? How did this happen to me? It would be nice if the workload would kind of level out so that I could at least pee on a regular basis, but also so that I don't have to spend days trying to appear like I am so busy that I can't pee. If that makes any sense.

*****

As of January 5, I went back on Weight Watchers. Remember if you will, back three years ago I lost an ungodly amount of weight and managed to keep it off for about 2.5 years...well, so, I gained some back so I decided to get back on the wagon again.

I worked out like crazy. I stuck to my points religiously. And nothin'. Well, the first week I lost the usual 4 pounds, but after that I stalled out. One day, in desperation, I went into April's office to vent about how freaking hungry I was and she suggested checking out Livestrong.com and their food journaling section called "The Daily Plate". I did, was mildly interested, and put it on the back burner.

Then, after like 10 days of not losing jack and starving to death, I emailed both Maven and Mer to see what their opinions were since they are also veterans of Weight Watchers. The general consensus was - maybe I just wasn't getting enough food. I decided to take a few days and journal both in Weight Watchers and Livestrong just for giggles - it was a huge pain in the ass, but very interesting. They were right. It wasn't nearly enough food, and I guess my body had gone into "starvation mode" and I wasn't losing jackshit for weight.

So I switched over to Livestrong. Basically, all you do is journal all day, and they give you your calorie guidelines based on your height, weight, age, and activity levels. On the days I don't work out, I get less food. On the days that I do work out, I get a little bit more. And I love the activity level calculators - like who would've guessed that 18th century dancing counted? Or vigorous sex? I'm all about that.

Since I switched over, I've lost two pounds a week. I have been way happier with not only what I'm getting to eat (which is basically what I like, just smaller portions) but the quantities too. I don't feel deprived. It's awesome. I am now down 9.5 pounds since January 5th, and have been living a pretty normal existence.

The working out has been a bit of a challenge. After twinging my sciatica a few weeks ago, it took me a good week to get back up to speed. I realized too that working out every day does NOT work for me. I am so tired by the end of the day that doing it every day results in crappy, short workouts. Doing it every other day not only gives my muscles (and poor feet) time to recover from the previous workout, I get in a much more intense workout and I actually look forward to it.

Okay, that's a lie. I still hate to work out. But whatever.

*****

I found out today that two young women in our community have committed suicide in the past four days.

I didn't know either one of them, but one of my friends knew both of them. From what I hear, they were both beautiful, intelligent, loving women. Everyone is stunned.

I'm not sure what drives people to do that. It's something I've wondered a lot, especially after my nephew died seven years ago. What is possibly so bad that ending your life seems to be the only answer?

So, if someone you know seems troubled, or reaches out for help, I urge you to listen. Hug them. Call Hopeline for help. See the link on the right...it's something I believe in with all of my heart. If one person calls Hopeline, then that's one more light that will stay bright.

*****

I hate to end this on a downer, but would like to ask for some positive thoughts and prayers for my friend Cat Door. He goes in tomorrow for a biopsy on his prostate and an ultrasound as well. He's had chronic problems for years due to scar tissue from a car accident in his teens, but his PSA has been alarmingly going up and down for the past year and the doctor is getting a little anxious about it.

He's anxious too. And to see him freaked out, freaks me out. Although I'm not sure what is freaking him out more - the actual biopsy, or having an ultrasound wand shoved up his wazoo.

All I know is that he has to be okay. I won't accept any other answer.

So much for all that good clean livin'

I have tonsillitis. Or maybe an early diagnosis of strep throat. In the words of Dr. W, who took one look in my throat and kind of groaned, "Well, your rapid strep came back negative...however, if we were on a desert island and I didn't have the ability to give you a strep test, I'd err on the side of caution and give you antibiotics. Amoxicillin okay?" Why yes, yes indeedy. And by the way, I like this desert island where I can get pills that make me better.

The diet and exercise is actually going extremely well. I'm excited to weigh in on Monday, because so far I've lost 4.5 pounds. Of course, I didn't work out yesterday and won't today because of feeling kinda crappy, but I got the green light to go for the gusto tomorrow if I'm feeling up to it. I suspect I will be. As for the eating, I've been watching my points carefully and ingesting more fruits, vegetables, and water than I have in YEARS. Seriously, even better than when I originally lost all the weight 3 years ago.

So far, I've noticed a few things - some good, some bad.

Hummus is good.

Hummus is good, but unfortunately it has a rather bad effect on me in terms of making explosive poop.

If I drink water, my skin looks better. And my joints don't creak.

If I drink water in copious amounts, my coworkers get mad because I'm always in the bathroom. Oops.

My body feels better from eating good, wholesome food.

My body feels better, but my mind still wants a large pizza with sausage and pepperoni. And extra cheese, natch.

*****

No layoffs yet at work, unless they happened this afternoon after I left for the doctor. I've heard some rumblings at the office that apparently EPOD, Rookie and I are going to be spared - but two other people that our team inherited might be on the block. It won't really change our workload any, because we've been handling one of their projects already (hence probably what will ultimately do them in) and someone else is getting their other project. The atmosphere around the office has been super tense, but I'm keeping my eyes on the prize and staying focused on taking care of myself and not stressing out about things that I have no control over.

Not to mention, worrying about every bite that is going in my mouth is certainly giving me something else to obsess over.

*****

Have a good weekend, y'all. I'm off to throw some cookies in the oven for my boys, and I have just enough points left for the day to enjoy two of them myself. Yay!

Tell me this isn't the truth

This morning, in the office kitchen...as we are all standing around talking about our stereotypical New Year's diets....

Me: I hate being on a freaking diet.

April: Liz, don't think of it as a diet - think of it as a lifestyle change!

Me: I hate going through a lifestyle change.

*****

And so it begins. I ran on Friday, Sunday, and tonight. Tonight's run was actually pretty good and I realized (ding ding ding!) that all the extra water I'm drinking during the day is really helping me with leg cramps. I don't usually drink nearly enough, and stupid me didn't even link that to my problems with my legs cramping.

Joey is also cutting back and getting on the treadmill too. It's hard enough doing it alone that having someone at least trying to do it with me really helps.

And, I signed up for the 10K on March 28th. Maven is coming down to do it with me. And she's already found a race up in Annapolis for us to try out in May. I think that will help keep me motivated, or at least I hope so.

A small bit of good news - not only did my bloodwork from my doctor visit come back perfect (including all that pesky stuff like triglycerides and such) but I haven't had chest pains at all in the past five days. That's huge. And it makes me smile.

The best Christmas gift ever

If anyone even noticed (heh) I didn't even bother posting around Christmas. Mostly because stories of doctor's visits aren't really something people love to hear about when they're decking the halls and gorging themselves on eggnog and ham, right?

So like I said last time I posted back in the Stone Age, I've had this pesky chest pain thing going on for a few months now. Early on Christmas Eve morning, I dragged myself to the new doctor where I was greeted warmly and with little adhesive patches all over me for a lovely holiday EKG. Nothing spells holiday spirit like having little patches ripped off of your skin. Then, Dr. W came in and spent a good 40 minutes with me discussing the various things going on in my life, my medical history, and all that good stuff. Well, probably at least 10 minutes was spent discussing Cat Door and his love of all things Cat Door and all that - turns out he is preparing to do a big master bathroom renovation similar to ours so I promised to email his wife pictures of how ours turned out. So once we dispensed with all of the formalities, he told me that he was going to draw some blood for lab work "just in case" but pronounced me pretty much healthy as a horse.

Except...it seems like I've developed some anxiety issues. It seems as though the fact that my father has cancer, my mother is a basket case, my sister and mother aren't getting along, my husband's business is in the toilet due to the economy, I have been worried about layoffs at my own company, some friend drama, and just the logistics of getting through every day is maybe a little much for me. Not enough to put me on daily meds, but enough for him to write me my very own prescription for Xanax with a promise that I wouldn't be chewing them up hourly like breath mints. "I think you do a great job identifying when this stuff is going on with you, but you need a little bit of a security blanket if that makes any sense," he said as he handed me the script. He told me to do things like deep breathing or taking a quick walk when I start feeling stressed, try to fit in a workout two or three times a week, and to make sure that I get some personal time in my day even if it's just 20 minutes.

I walked out of the office feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. First of all, I absolutely LOVE Dr. W and his staff. They were awesome. Secondly, it really helped for someone to tell me that I'm fine and not one step away from a heart attack...but third, knowing that now I have this little bottle in my purse is like having a warm blanket to wrap myself in when things get really bad.

So Saturday, as we all loaded up in my mother's minivan to take a day trip, I started feeling it. Cruuuuunch. It almost takes my breath away sometimes.

"Be right back," I said and I got back out of the van and walked around the hotel parking lot a few times, breathing deeply and doing some stretching. Within five minutes, I was feeling much better and was able to jump in the van and drive us around for the rest of the day. No little happy pill needed.

I'm not saying I'll never need them, but I think that I'll probably be able to control a good portion of the chest pains without resorting to them. And that makes me feel a lot more in control of things. Not to mention that knowing I can get through a whole three days of my mother without taking the entire bottle of Xanax is pretty darn sweet.

*****

The other fun thing going on is that yes, Virginia, I will be back on a diet/exercise regimen come January 1st. It's not a New Year's resolution as much as procrastination at not wanting to deprive myself during the holidays and deal with all the BS. The pants are getting a little snug again, my abs are flabby, and overall I just feel not very good about myself. So get ready for a lot of whining about eating cardboard and how much I hate to sweat and such.

*****

I hope everyone had a great Christmas! Ours was blissfully quiet, we had a nice visit to my parents' for a few days, and now this week is juggling Monkey Man around since The World's Most Expensive Preschool is closed for the week. Fun!

*****

Edited to add - Since we were lazy slackers and didn't send out Christmas cards this year, I'd love to share our family photos with you. If you're interested in seeing them, email me at buildermama@gmail.com and if I deem you are not a stalker, I'll send you the link. I can't post the linky love here since it's some kind of copyright violation or some such ilk, but the pictures turned out AWESOME! Although a little Photoshopping of my double chin and stomach rolls would've been nice. Ahem.

Look what the cat dragged in

So if you managed to wallow through Sunday's post, I thank you. You just saved me $100 at the shrink.

Saturday I was surfing on my laptop while the guys were popping in and out of the house and ran across an email from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time. Remember Ben, the guy I met at the wing place that was going to Kuwait? Um, yeah. Him. Apparently he wants me to write him back and send pictures too since he's so bored and lonely over there. I wonder what kind of pictures he wants me to send, hmmm? I hit delete so fast that my keyboard is still smoking. Sorry, Ben, I'm happy that you're serving our country but honestly I don't really want to provide you with any pictures that you'll be using for unsavory acts. With camels.

Tonight I go see Bobby, my Fabulous Gay Hairdresser Slash Therapist. I'm not sure what needs more therapy, my head or my hair. I'm starting to vaguely resemble Donald Trump's combover at this point since I'm like a week off of my usual 5- week rotation. You're fired!

And now, for your entertainment, a typical conversation between me and Cat Door:

CD: Well, I need to run home and walk the dog. You know, you really should walk Rufus more often.

Me: Why? He does just fine the way he is.

CD: His legs look like they're getting shorter, when really it's that he's getting fatter.

Me: He gets plenty of exercise. You're just jealous because that little twitching bundle of nerves that you have has to be walked or he runs away. Maybe if you weren't so hateful he wouldn't run off all the time.

CD: Good point. I am kind of bitter about the walking part. Maybe he picks up on that.

Me: I'm not even your dog and I know how bitter you are. Not to mention he's probably a little bitter because you named him after a food.

CD: Liz, his name is Puccini, not Fettucini. Get it straight you senile old bat!

Me: Puccini, fettucini, whatever. I'd run away too.

And there you have it. We are stupid.

It isn't even 9 AM and the girls and I are already making lunch plans. We are officially pathetic. And for me, this involves major planning and sweating over what I can eat and not run over my points for the day. Weigh-in is 7:30 AM tomorrow...did y'all notice that I changed the day so that I can weigh in before breakfast? Tryin' to cheat the man, y'all. Hey, at least I'm not like some people that I see in there that are practically stripping down to their underwear for weigh-in. I just take my shoes off and don't wear any bling on Wednesdays. And leave my underwear at home.

Have a great day, y'all. And if you see a nervous-looking little miniature pinscher running around, beware. He's bitter.

Um, yeah

So this is pretty much the general crapshoot of all blog posts. Kinda like one of those pithy Christmas letters you get with a "Johnny won the Nobel Peace Price this year and oh, we had a wonderful trip to Alaska!"

I just have a lot to say, but not to expound on. So bear with me.

First, the trip. It was good. Well, okay, Monday at lunchtime I was ready to come home because I was so disgusted with the whole thing that I just wanted to get out of there. Mainly because the "friend" (and I'm using that term very loosely at this point) who organized the whole trip as a customer appreciation trip basically blew us off not once, but twice for meals we were supposed to have together. The second time was pretty inexcusable in my book and when she kind of laughed it off instead of apologizing, I ended up mentally writing her off. Apparently, we have heard through the grapevine that she pulls this shit all the time, but of course we were none the wiser so we ended up getting pissed off instead.

The Greenbrier is a lovely place. We just felt awkwardly out of place. When you are the youngest by a good 20 years as well as way down on the income scale compared to the other guests, you kind of feel like a fish out of water. Not to mention when they serve you trout terrine (fish jello) it's pretty obvious that you're in the wrong damn place.

One interesting thing I did was get this spa treatment that involved being buck nekkid and being sprayed down with two high-pressure hoses. Me likey.

Today was week 3 of Mad Science. Everyone, even including Alexander, escaped unscathed. Amazing!

There is a nasty stomach virus making the rounds of the office. It ain't purty and I'm hoping that it just keeps on going down the hall and ignores my office.

Oh, and despite drinking and eating like a pig for 3 days I still managed to lose a pound last week. Go me! I have been working out like a fiend and I swear that you can probably bounce a quarter off my ass.

I went shopping yesterday at the humongous mall and spent way too much money. I'm having a little buyers' remorse over this shirt I got at Nordstrom that I could probably have made with a Target t-shirt and a Bedazzler. That sucker might be going back.

And last, but not least. The In-Laws are coming this weekend, so we will have plenty of blog fodder coming your way soon. God help me.

MILFilicious

Well, at least that's what I'm aiming for. Pure MILFiliciousness.

Today was my first weigh-in since going back on Weight Watchers. Total loss, 4.4 pounds. WOOT! So to celebrate, I decided to head up the road to the Tropical Smoothie Cafe where I could get a smoothie and maybe a sandwich for lunch since I didn't really have time to meet the girls for lunch at that point.

And this is where things went wrong. See, I have zero willpower. None, nada, zip. So I was checking out the menu and instead of being GOOD and getting a 6-point salad, I decided that I was going to get this wrap they call Popeye's Favorite. Described as "chicken strips, spinach, artichokes, diced tomatoes, and low-fat mozzarella cheese wrapped in a tortilla" I figured hey - spinach, artichokes, low-fat cheese? How bad could that be? So I greedily grabbed my takeout bag and hustled back to the office.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I started wondering if I shouldn't log online and figure out how many points the wrap had. I knew the Pineapple Delight smoothie (made with Splenda!) was only 3 points, but the wrap...eh...not so sure. So I got online, found the nutritional information, and calculated...THIRTEEN MOTHERFUCKING POINTS FOR HALF A WRAP. That's right, for HALF of the wrap. Four inches, which if that was the *ahem* size of a man's thingy, I would've laughed out loud. I'm all about size, baby.

I was befuddled. I headed into the breakroom in search of a knife, and as I was chatting with a coworker I sliced it in half and took a gander at it.

Oh, sweet Jesus. It was basically like a tortilla with chicken and spinach/artichoke dip in it. One of my favorite things to eat. I folornly looked at my new love, cursing all the while.

And yes, I ate it. HALF of it. And after attempting to find another home for the wrap so I wouldn't eat it, I threw it in the trash and dumped coffee grounds on it. Ya know, so I didn't go dumpster diving when the 3 PM hungries set in. I wept a little bit as I dropped that sucker in the trash can.

So for dinner, I pretty much got not much of anything. Another portobello/spinach pita that I whipped up at home, and a cup of the Progresso soup that is 0 points per cup. But it's okay, because the orgasm that I got off that half a wrap was worth it.

God, I really am pathetic.

How many points if I eat my own words?

I know. I'd been doing so well, like posting a few days in a row. But you know how it is - sometimes you get a case of blogblock that kind of prevents you from posting much of anything at all.

I've been focusing this week on myself. As in trying to get back in the Weight Watchers groove. The first three weeks are always the hardest because I find myself obsessing over food, food, and more food. Hey, wait - isn't this what got me into this predicament in the first place? Um, yeah.

This is my fourth love affair with Weight Watchers. I did it in college with my roomie, Kim (hi Kimmy!). I think that time I lost around 20 pounds but I was a total gym rat at that time - we had a great gym that I signed up for a multi-year contract with and would go all the freaking time. And of course, when you're like 21 years old it's sooo easy. The pounds just fall off. And you don't appreciate it at all. I tell you what, I would kill to have that metabolism back again!

My second time was back in either 1999 or 2000. I got skinny. Scary skinny. As a matter of fact, I have always kind of suspected that it contributed a little bit to my infertility problems, because I put about 10 pounds of it back on and BAM! Monkey man was conceived.

My third time was in August, 2005. That was the big one. When all was said and done, I lost over 40 pounds and I managed to keep it off for two years. My motivating factor on that is all spilled here. I still believe that if I hadn't done something, my health was going to be in some serious jeopardy since at 35 I couldn't even walk up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath. How pathetic is that?

And now, here I am, dancing with the Weight Watchers devil yet again. Dammit.

The first few weeks are the biggest challenge for me. Remembering what food is equal to how many points, mentally tallying it all in my head, having to re-learn how to eat. Eventually, around Week 3, it becomes a second nature and I start rattling off points like some kind of idiot savant. It freaks my friends out. And probably annoys them, too.

I've also worked out every day for the past two weeks (except Wednesdays which are my self-imposed day off). It feels good. I'm running a little bit again, mostly speedwalking though on inclines up to 8.0. It makes my ass look fabulous.

I have a really hard time with the whole dieting/fitness thing. It eats up so much of me that I feel almost guilty and selfish for focusing so much time and energy on myself. I'm not one of those selfless people that you see on those makeover shows by any stretch of the imagination - like it hasn't exactly been 5 years since my last haircut or since I bought myself some new pants - but still, it makes me feel a tad guilty to spend an hour of my day working out. And that's stupid, so I'm trying to get over that. I mean, it's selfish NOT to take care of myself, because I want to be around a long time to harass Monkey Man and spend all of Joey's money!

So, it is what it is. I'm doing pretty well. My weigh-in will be tomorrow at 10:30. I know I've lost some, but of course their scales are completely different than mine. As long as I've accomplished something after busting my ass all week, I'll be happy.

I'm eating better this time - making more food for myself instead of trying to piecemeal some semblance of a diet. Like yesterday for lunch, I made the most awesome sandwich. Get yourself a package of sliced portobello mushrooms - cook them on the grill or in a skillet on the stove, 4 minutes per side. I used a smidge of olive oil and garlic to cook them in, so make that 1 point just for the oil factor and 0 points for the mushrooms. Take a Thomas' whole wheat pita (2 points), add to it a cup of fresh spinach (0 points), 3 teaspoons of Presidente fat-free feta cheese (1 point), and your sauteed mushrooms. It was huge and yummy and a whopping 4 points. Add to that some of the Progresso 0 point soup and it was a great lunch that kept me filled up until dinnertime. And that's what I'm having for lunch today, too.

So see - it's an obsession right now. So much of an obsession that I've been contemplating about starting a different blog just for diet and exercise, focusing on busy moms. It seems like there isn't much out there focusing on that - and not like I'm some kind of guru or anything, but there should be some kind of place to go for inspiration or venting or just looking for a little comraderie when you're having a moment when you've eaten that sundae or your pants that fit two months ago don't fit. Not to mention how to fit it all in when you're running around like a crazy person.

So, whaddaya think? Would you read something like that? Would you like to be a contributor? Drop me an email if you'd like to be a contributor...buildermama at gmail dot com. I'm looking for a good spectrum of people with different challenges (like if you have a health issue that makes you more conscientious of your need to be fit) that can chime in every now and then. I'll be trying to get it started up in the next few weeks, once we get back from our trip.

Until then, I'm just going to keep obsessing. That only costs 0 points, but does it burn any calories?

I'm not sure who is crabbier - me or the alpaca

I've been tossing around the idea of rejoining Weight Watchers for a few weeks now. I'm kind of bummed out about it, but I figure it's better to join now than oh say 30 pounds from now.

I've gained back seven pounds. That might not seem like a lot, but I've been hovering around the same three pounds for weeks now. I've cut back my portions, drank water like it's going out of style, and worked out four times a week. Nada. Nothing. Zip. Up two pounds, down one pound, and so on. It's an ugly cycle that I can't seem to get out of without some help.

I am in some serious self-loathing right now. I worked so damn hard to lose all that weight, and now I have let myself start going down the slippery slope. I have been eating everything in sight for no good reason at all. I rejoined the "clean my plate" club about two months ago.

I don't really fit in with the typical Weight Watchers crowd. When I went to sign up today, I had a bunch of the other attendees glaring at me and I ended up leaving about 5 minutes before the meeting actually started. You could see it on their faces - why is SHE here? I'm here because I need help. I need accountability. I need to be healthy and take care of myself. It's as easy as that.

I'm not a happy dieter. I bitch, I whine, and I'm generally not a happy camper. I end up turning it into a project for myself in terms of promising myself some kind of treat when I finish or reach my goal. I'm not sure what it is this time, but I'm hoping maybe a trip somewhere. Anywhere.

So, Miss Crabbypants registered today and as I was skulking out the door of the meeting, my cell phone rang. It was Cat Door. He's getting ready to leave Thursday for the Grand Canyon to do a little motocross riding and then two days in Vegas. God help Vegas.

There's a problem though. See, Mrs. Cat Door's uncle has cancer, and he happens to own an alpaca farm about five hours from here. Family members have been pitching in on weekends to help keep the farm in order, so even though he was there a few weeks ago he rode down there on Saturday to work for two days.

Alpacas, for the most part, are apparently pretty docile - or at least the ones his uncle has raised are. There are a few that he has that he inherited from someone else that are less than friendly. It's not that they're vicious, but they can be kind of aggressive in that they will try to butt you with their heads, knock you over, etc.

Yesterday, he was cleaning up when suddenly one of the alpacas came over and ended up stomping on the edge of his foot - which promptly swelled up to the size of a grapefruit. Ouch. It's not broken, but he needs to stay off it for a few days and ice it up with the hopes that it will be significantly better by the time he leaves on Thursday. Having a fully-functional foot is pretty important when doing motocross riding, I imagine, since you have to like stand up on the pedal-thingies when you're doing jumps. Not to mention that gimping around Vegas is like so not hot, however it may help keep him out of jail. Needless to say, considering he has already paid for this non-refundable trip he is a little freaked out that he won't get to enjoy it as much no thanks to his furry friend.

I was thinking about it on the way home...there really isn't much difference right now between me on a diet and a crazy-ass alpaca. Well, maybe I smell better, but only slightly. I want a cookie so bad right now I could headbutt anyone out there.

It's official, I am pathetic.

Gah. Someone shoot my scale, please!

Other than Friday night's dinner, it's been a fairly low-key weekend. Probably because it's hotter than balls here and no one feels like doing a whole lot of anything.

Yesterday at High Noon was the 1st birthday party for one of the Neighborhood Badass kids. It was hot. Hotter than hot. And they had so many freaking people there that we were forced to stand in the garage with a box fan as our comfort. No offense to them - because they are just the most awesome people - but I couldn't wait to get the fuck outta there. It was miserable.

We came home and collapsed into comas in our respective corners, then ran out for a quick dinner and home to watch the race. Well, the boys watched the race while I read a magazine.

Remember how I threw my back out the other weekend? Well, the pains are still running down my leg. Not horribly, but in a nagging kind of way. And when I hopped on the scale on Friday, I am up five pounds. Five pounds might not seem like a lot, but I swear that since I lost my weight two years ago I hadn't had a whit of back problems. Now I'm not saying the five pounds have done it, but they sure ain't gonna help.

The other thing is that I haven't been working out at all. I probably haven't gotten on the treadmill in at least, oh, a month? Maybe two? I'm not even sure at this point. Oh, I did work out when we were at the Homestead a few weeks ago, but even then it had been a while. Mrs. Cat Door asked me on Friday if I had been doing my stretches and weights and I kind of sheepishly told her....um, no. And I got the eye-rolling, like "you dumbass, THIS is what keeps me in business!"

So I was reading Shape magazine last night (which is always a favorite read but I hadn't picked one up in months) and kind of got the fever again. So, it's back on the bandwagon. Starting with eating better, and trying to work out three times a week. I need to work out more, but three is doable at this point. The eating is the challenge.

I love to eat. Love. To. Eat. I used to avoid the Weight Watchers meetings like the plague - after the weigh-in I would hightail it out the door, because after sitting through two meetings I discovered that I couldn't relate to 99.9% of the people at that meeting. I don't get pissed off at people and go home and eat an entire cake. I don't get sad about things and drown my sorrows in three extra-large milkshakes. I eat because I love food. I love good food, I love fattening food, and I love everything that is bad for me.

The other kick in the ass is an upcoming review for Parent Bloggers which will actually make me get off my couch and do something. Otherwise, well, it will be one short review. Ahem.

About a month ago I toyed with the idea of trying to lose another 10 pounds. I'm not sure what it is about that number, but I never really felt like I was "done" or had reached my goal. Actually, I plateaued and that's where I stayed untouched for almost two years. The last few months have been a real struggle, and now, dammit - I have 15 pounds to lose if I do this. At a minimum I have to get these five pounds off with the hopes that the back problems will go away. I'm too damn young to be walking around like someone stuck a pole up my wazoo.

So prepare for the bitching. Because there's going to be plenty of it.

Anyhow, I did fix this really good dinner tonight - a recipe straight from Shape Magazine. I did doctor up the dressing a little, and I'll put my notes in there, but overall it was good. Even Joey liked it, and he hates salads (speaking of preparing for the bitching...).

*******

Churrasco Steak Salad

Ingredients

½ cup red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (from 1 lemon)
2 teaspoons honey
2 teaspoons coarse salt plus extra for seasoning the steak
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 cup plus 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground pepper
1 pound skirt or flank steak
6 cups torn Romaine lettuce
4 cups baby arugula
12 cherry tomatoes, halved
½ red onion, thinly sliced
4 ounces Gorgonzola, coarsely crumbled

Directions

Prepare the vinaigrette by combining the vinegar, lemon juice, honey, 2 teaspoons of salt and oregano in a medium bowl. Whisk in the olive oil in a thin, steady stream. Season to taste with pepper and set aside.

Season the steak with some salt and pepper. Heat the olive oil in a medium skillet or grill pan over medium-high heat for 1 minute. Add the steak and brown for 3 to 4 minutes on each side if you like your steaks done medium-rare or longer for well done. Transfer the steak to a cutting board to rest while you make the salad.

Combine the lettuce and the arugula in a large bowl. Add the tomatoes, the onions and half of the cheese. Toss the salad with enough of the red wine vinaigrette to lightly coat it. Cut the steaks crosswise into thin slices. Arrange the steak slices on top of the salad and drizzle more vinaigrette over the steak slices. Sprinkle with the remaining cheese and serve.

Liz's notes: Well, I was out of oregano, but I had some Penzey's Italian Dressing Mix up in the cupboard so I threw about 2 tablespoons of that in there. I also thought the dressing was a little too sour for my taste, so I put more honey in to taste. Oh, and it says that it "serves four" - it probably does, I cut back on the greens because it was just the two of us and we had two pretty good-sized salads with some leftovers. Mmmmm.

Mental masturbation

One of my favorite terms, used often on the Big Corporate Office Job where we would have daylong meetings to discuss things like bathroom mirrors. The mental masturbation that would go on there was simply exhausting, and not in a good way.

*****

Lies, lies, lies

I've been a horrible slacker - Aimee over at Greeblemonkey tagged me last week to do a meme and of course I've been so - well, not busy, but LAZY that I'm finally getting around to it.

Nine truths and a lie - see if you can guess which one is the lie. Winner gets...well, my undying gratitude.

1. I have a sister that is 20 years older than I am.

2. I met Joey on a blind date.

3. I was a member of the Reba McEntire fan club.

4. I was engaged to be married before I met Joey.

5. It took me over two years to get pregnant with Monkey Man.

6. I have a birthmark on the left side of my torso.

7. I love to talk about boobs.

8. I have never had a speeding ticket or a parking ticket.

9. I wanted to be a veterinarian when I grew up.

10. I have never smoked a cigarette or tried drugs.

Yeah, I am boring. Yawn.

*****

An act of sheer rebellion

I came home from work tonight to find out that the Homeowner Association Nazi was around doing inspections today and wrote us up, leaving a bright orange notice tied to our mailbox so now our neighbors know what horrible people we are. The transgression? "Turf needs weed control and grass seed application and cut embankment to end of property line." We have about 10 feet of property that goes down the edge of the road and borders the woods and most of the time, we're less than diligent about keeping it manicured because, well, it's in the FUCKING WOODS. But whatever. Joey is out there now with the weed wacker attempting to at least get the grass cut down a little bit.

The irony of it all - she noticed the 10-foot patch of grass, but disregarded the very large Trash Majal that Cat Door built for us last year sans HOA approval. Bah!

*****

This little blonde woman is kicking my ass

The other week when I was home with the creeping crud, I was flipping channels and noticed an infomercial that caught my attention. I was seriously glued to the TV. And I freaking HATE infomercials like nobody's business.

What was it for? Fluidity. I studied dance for years and know how it all works, and it's true - you get completely different results from dance-type exercise versus treadmill and weights. I thought about springing for it and then Joey ended up surprising me with it for Mother's Day. I was thrilled.

And let me tell y'all. It looks easy. That little blonde woman who came up with the system - you think you could kick her ass in a second. But nooooo. She kicked my ass all over the place on Tuesday night, and I'm getting ready to head downstairs for another round of torture. A 30-minute workout and I was sweating, my muscles were shaking, and I couldn't even do some of the beginner-level exercises. It's hard. I thought I was in pretty good shape, but this just shows me that in some ways I am - and in others, I'm pathetic. Just pathetic.

*****

Shake your money maker

If you haven't heard it already, the first single from Maroon 5's new album is out already - "Makes Me Wonder." Serious ass-shaking music. I am in love. I was cranking this as I was riding through town tonight with Monkey Man in the backseat and we were "driving dancing." Yeah, people were staring at me, but screw them.

So tomorrow, at 9:58 AM, think of me standing behind my desk and shakin' it as hard as I can. Makes the day go by a little bit faster.

Another day, another dime

It's been a hard week. Between the Tech tragedy and just dealing with our crazy lives in general, I am really wiped out.

The cleansing diet came to an early end today when I realized that I had left all my pills and stuff on the kitchen counter. Methinks that wasn't exactly a mistake. Anyhow, I lost two pounds in six days - I'll totally take it. I think the big bonus was trying new ways of eating that are probably a little better for me that will probably be something I can live with. I also discovered why the hell I've been so tired this week - no carbs. None. Nada. So today at lunch, I celebrated the end of the diet with lunch at the organic place where I had a bison burger, salad, and sweet potato fries. It was so freaking delicious it wasn't even funny.

Anyhow, off to polish up my review of Cozi and it's very cool scheduling software. Check back tomorrow to see more!

This and that

This livin' right is gunna kill me

Week two of my Fitness Makeover Extravaganza. Unfortunately, my intake of a Fiber One bar yesterday caused some, um, digestive discomfort so I was forced to take the day off for fear of sharting myself on the treadmill.

Yes, I said shart.

Other than that, it's going pretty well. And my first race of the season is Saturday. I am not ready, and I'm praying for no sharting.

*****

Deja Vu

I was reading GMan's blog tonight about his son's weekend visit and the disaster that was his formerly clean closet. Boy, did that bring back some memories.

When Joey and I first got married, his brother Kenny lived with us. He was single, worked for Joey, and generally had zero ambition. We had been talking for months about him finding his own place to live, because dude - it ain't cool to crash with your brother and his new wife. Not to mention that although I love the guy to death, he is a horrible slob. Before I moved in, the two of them refused to wash any dishes so they either ate off plastic or threw away the dishes, pots and pans as they used them. Kenny's room typically looked like a bomb had hit it - his typical MO every morning was to pick clothes up off of the floor, sniff them, and then deem if they were non-toxic enough to wear.

So about two months after we got married, I was doing my weekly cleaning of our house and opened the guest room door to get out the vacuum cleaner only to find a pile of black socks about two feet high. I stalked into our living room where Mr. Clueless was playing video games and demanded to know if those were his socks in there.

"Yeah, dude...they smelled so bad I didn't want them in my room."

And that was the day his welcome was officially worn out.

*****

Moon river

Today was my monthly waxing appointment, and if you've been hanging around here for a while you know that this can be a very traumatic day for me. Today, not so bad - but mostly because that damn JoAnn had me rolling on the floor telling me about her appointment yesterday.

Apparently, JoAnn is the only person at the salon that will do Brazillian waxing. And if you don't know what that is, it means you're waxing the whole enchilada, from the rooter to the tooter. I personally would rather wax my entire head than have hot wax that close to the tooter, but hey - whatever floats your boat.

So her last appointment of the day yesterday was a new client who wanted a Brazillian. JoAnn kept waiting and waiting for the client to show up, and finally she went up to the reception area to see if the woman had called in and she saw this, um, rather large woman coming into the salon. It was her client, who probably tipped the scales at a very conservative 350 pounds.

So JoAnn took her on back to the waxing room and got down to business. Keep in mind that in order to give someone a Brazillian (and this is all according to JoAnn, so if this is wrong set me straight) the subject must get on their hands and knees in order to apply the wax to the nether regions. Oh my God. The wierd part was that the woman's husband kept calling her cell phone through the entire thing and the woman was cooing into her cell phone, "Oooh bay-bee, I'm-a doin' this jist fer yew....."

"My God," signed JoAnn, "Thank goodness she was my last appointment of the day. Because that was a lot of ass to wax."

Um, ewwww.

*****

Shout out to the big pimp daddy

I just have to say congratulations to Joey today. He booked a $2 million contract today, giving them the largest backlog (that's upcoming projects logged on the books that haven't started yet) in company history.

He has been on a total roll this year - has booked $8 million in work in the past month. He is on fire.

All I can say is keep it comin', big daddy. Mama needs some more bling and getting our bathroom redone would be great too. And maybe I can let you have more than a quarter a week for your allowance.

*****

Well, that was an interesting post. Sharting and Brazillians. Have a good one, y'all.

Hi, my name is Liz and I'm a big fat wimp

Last July, I went out and got myself a really cool bike. I rode it quite a bit last year with the hopes of beating the boredom of running on the treadmill all the time.

Today was a gorgeous day - 75 degrees and sunny. And I was hellbound and determined to get the bike out today and ride. Not only that, I was going to teach Monkey Man to ride his bike as well. I must be an idiot. First of all, trying to teach a five-year-old who is totally uninterested in riding his bike how to do it is impossible. When I was his age, I would ride up and down the roads (and a freaking mountain, for pete's sake) all day long. Now I can't even get this kid to ride the bike five feet. Next thing you know, he's going to want to hire one of the kids up the street to ride his bike for him. Kids these days! Anyhow, I pulled my bike out of the garage and discovered that the rear tire was pretty low (and I don't know where the air compressor is) so Monkey Man and I entertained ourselves with a rousing game of basketball until Joey got home. And by the way, Monkey Man cheats at basketball. It's so not fair.

Once Joey got home, I bribed him to pump up my tires and off I went. Cool and confident, bike helmet on and running tights too (ya know so you don't snag the ol' pants leg and tank into the road messing up the dental work your parents paid millions of dollars for), I headed on down the street. I was looking forward to having a great ride just like the ones that I did last year.

What I didn't remember from last year was that it appears that our neighborhood goes uphill. There is no downhill here. And how that is physically possible is beyond me.

Thirty minutes later, I finally pulled back into the driveway with my head pounding so hard that I thought my brains were going to come shooting out of my eyeballs and my arms are still shaking. What in the hell my arms have to do with riding a bike (other than holding the handlebars) I have no clue.

And here I sit. Head pounding, coughing my lungs up, and jonesing for a Girl Scout cookie. Or twenty.

Kicking myself in the ass, join in if you want to!

So it's all come down to this:

I have gained back six pounds. All those fancy-schmancy dinners, desserts, and living the high life over the past few months have paid in dividends. Dividends located on my big fat butt.

Ever since I lost all the weight, I've been fanatical about weighing every single day. I guess I fell off the weigh-in wagon back in late January when all this traveling around got started. You miss one day...eh, it will be fine...then a week goes by...and the next thing you know, your fat pants are starting to feel a little tighter.

Then there's the exercise issue. I haven't run or done anything in almost two months. Well, really a month-and-a-half but I'm being mean to myself here. I had gotten into a routine of treadmill and weights and abs at least three days a week, usually four. I was looking pretty good.

Complacency has always been my biggest enemy. I have struggled with my weight for my entire life. It sucks, but both sides of my family have members with pretty serious weight issues and I don't want to end up diabetic or with heart problems. But I tend to let myself slide when I feel good about things. Oh hell, even when I feel bad about things. This winter has been particularly challenging - for some reason, I've really struggled with my mood and trying to stay upbeat. Funny how my mind never pictured the endorphins from exercise keeping me from going postal on someone, but that's just the way I roll.

I'm one of those people who has to mentally prepare for a while before dieting or making any kind of life changes. So I've been kind of ramping myself up for a few days, thinking about things that I can do to make myself feel better about who I am, not to mention that warm weather is coming and the thought of myself in a bathing suit is almost more than I can stand.

So it all starts again. I got on ifit.com and found a page of workout routines and decided to go with the eight-week program designed for busy moms. I went to the store and stocked up on Kashi and fruit and all kinds of stuff. I have that 10K on the 31st and I am excited about that for the first time since I signed up.

I've got to get past the "diet" mentality and start living it like my lifestyle. I will never look like a supermodel. I will never be super skinny. All I want is to be healthy and toned. I want to take care of myself. I want to be able to run up a flight of stairs without feeling like I'm going to die. I want to be around a long time to see Monkey Man grow up, to go on vacations, to continue my never-ending search for the perfect eye cream, and to get lots of bling. I want it all! And I worked way too hard to lose all the weight to allow myself to backslide. I am declaring war on my big fat ass.

But to do this, some stuff is going to have to give. Like blogging - it's not that I'm going anywhere, but I might not post every day for a while and I will probably bore y'all to tears about fiber grams and workout routines and bitching about how I hate to drink water. I'd really like to give up doing laundry, but that ain't happening. If my camera battery wasn't dead, I'd take a picture of the mountain of laundry that is currently occupying our bedroom floor and you'd realize that quitting laundry would mean imminent death by being smothered with dirty socks. Not a good thing.

So that's it in a nutshell. To summarize: my ass is huge, I hate drinking water, and our laundry is suffocating us. Test tomorrow at 10 AM.

Of pigeons and men

Got lots of silly things running through my head tonight, so bear with me...

*****

No dead birds here but lots of good karma

So after all the talk of dead birds in Austin today, you'd think that reasonably intelligent people like us would avoid birds at all costs. Well, I never said we were smart.

Monkey Man had a horrid day at school today - what started out as getting up on the wrong side of the bed turned into a major, body-slamming screaming tantrum the likes of which we have never seen in gym class. And apparently he was either crying, pouting, or on the verge of tears all day. I determined that perhaps between not being in a great mood, some "friend" problems he's been having at school, and just being five, that maybe a little family time was in order. We decided to take him to one of the city's diners to get milkshakes and hamburgers and maybe have a little talk with him.

What we forgot was that they close at 3 PM on Mondays. Seems like we ran into this a few years ago and it just didn't stick in the brain. So we skedaddled on around a few streets and ended up at a place called Stool Pigeons. The food is pretty good and we ended up running into a few of Joey's vendors who were there discussing the local market and upcoming jobs.

When we got ready to leave, the waitress let us know that the guys had already paid our bill. And especially after Saturday's debacle, it was as sweet of a surprise as they come.

*****

Builder Mama, Library Fugitive

I ran across this story today about this dude that returned an overdue library book after 47 years. Along with a check for the overdue fines.

I'm sorry, but at that point why bother? I'm sure that Saint Peter isn't up at the Pearly Gates checking your library history. Or at least I hope he isn't.

Back when Joey and I were engaged, I checked out a few library books on weddings at the local library. I would say that before that point, I was one of the most loyal and diligent library patrons that you would ever find. Well, that all went to hell when one of my druggie roommates absconded with the books - probably trading them for some shrooms or hippie lettuce. I bet they didn't get much...I still have visions of some of their stoner friends sitting around with a bong and some wedding books going "Duuuude, I can't believe you traded the good shit for some stupid books!"

So here we are, 10 years later and I never got the books and never paid for them. As a matter of fact, I bet I'm probably permanently banned from that county's library system. And it's made me so paranoid about it that even though I've lived in this county for seven years, I still haven't had the balls to walk into the library and try and get a library card.

Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Go ahead and mock me. I'm an outlaw, dammit.

*****

Hooray to the MILF's

Well, a few of my favorite bloggers - Gretchen, Jen, and Heather - have jumped on the MILF bandwagon. And I want to send each of them a huge shout-out and props for taking care of themselves.

I think it's easy as women (and especially moms) to kind of put everyone else at the top of the priority list and eventually you find maybe you've put on a pound or two. Or twenty. Been there, done that. But I think that a time eventually comes when the kids are a little older, they're able to be a little more self-sufficient, and we're able to move ourselves closer to the top of the list again.

Even though I haven't signed on as an official member of the MILF's, I've realized in the past few weeks that all the good, healthy habits that I established in 2005 - 2006 went by the wayside during Builder Daddy's and Monkey Man's little medical dramas last year. So I've been trying to eat better, exercise regularly, and drink more water. The water part is killing me. We should totally be able to drink bourbon, and lots of it.

Anyhow, good luck ladies. Kick some serious ass.

*****

Hope y'all have a great Tuesday! As long as I don't have to do another mass-mailing of schedules, I'll be one happy bitch.

It's not where you've been, it's where you are now

I finally dragged my sorry sick ass to my old primary care doctor today. Long story, but I started seeing Dr. F way back in 1997 right after I got married. He was already Joey's doctor and up to that point I had been relying on the doc-in-the-box pretty heavily any time I got sick.

Dr. F is one of those doctors that you can't help but love. He has the absolute best bedside manner ever. He will spend time talking to you about yourself, your spouse, your kids, whatever you want to talk about. He takes his time with you. And no matter if you haven't showered in six days and smell like ass, he always hugs you and says how fabulous you look.

I stopped seeing Dr. F two years ago because he stopped accepting our health insurance. And at the time, we were trying to save up for a new house and I was out on the jobsite far away from his office and it just made more sense to go back to the doc-in-the-box.

Well, not so much. Although I've found one particular doctor at our local doc-in-the-box that I like just about as much as Dr. F, she only works like two days a week and I refuse to spend three hours in a waiting room full of flu-infested people to come out sicker than I went in. So yesterday, I picked up the phone and called Dr. F to see if he could fit me in this week.

Now I feel bad for ever leaving. It was just like being welcomed back into the fold. He's moved to a brand new office, but only takes two patients at the time so you don't spend hours in the waiting room. I was his only appointment booked for that hour so we had lots of time to catch up.

He didn't recognize me when I walked in the lobby door. It wasn't until he came into the exam room with my file in hand that he realized it was me. Know why? Because the last time he saw me, according to my chart, I was 50 pounds heavier. I just about passed out when I thought about it.

We talked for a long time about my struggle with post-partum depression and how a year and a half ago I made the choice to change my life forever. Honestly, it is almost impossible to remember what things were like before then. We discussed the possibility of me having another baby, and I admitted that we're probably done - but the door isn't completely closed on the subject. But I also told him that we were happy with our family now, and adding another little being into the mix would be difficult with our life circumstance the way that it is and that I was okay with that.

He gave me a huge hug and said, "You seem so at peace with your life. How did you get there?"

I don't know. I thought about it for a second and told him that a lot of it had to do with accepting the things you are dealt in life and making the best of it. On even the worst days, you have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward - if not for yourself, then for the people that love you.

On the exterior, I look like I have it all. And underneath, I have problems and pain just like everyone else. Maybe a do a better job of hiding it. Maybe my naturally positive personality doesn't let it come through. Maybe part of me feels guilty for even bringing it up because there are people out there with problems far worse than mine. But it's there. It's there, it's real, and it's mine.

My life certainly has changed a lot in the last two years. Some for the better, some is the same, and some is a little worse. But I wouldn't change any of it.

I thought the other day about how I surprise myself sometimes with how differently I react to things now. Where I used to be a lot more judgemental about people, now I have a little more empathy. Where I used to carry a grudge, now I feel like life is too short to hold on to those negative feelings. Where I used to speak my mind freely, I tend to hold my tongue a little more and listen to what other people have to say before voicing my opinions. Is it maturity? Is it acceptance of life as it is versus being angry about what I think it should be? I have no idea.

Am I at peace? I don't know if I ever will be. But I'm pretty close. And still working on it.

Just another Manic Monday

Back in the saddle again

I’ve been seriously slacking off in the exercise department since March. It’s hard to fit it in between my crazy summer work schedule, trying to blog every day, and the fact that honestly I’ve been totally exhausted with just surviving.

But there’s nothing like seeing someone in the office suddenly go through a physical transformation to kick you right in the ass and get you motivated again. One of the other girls, who has always been very physically fit, bumped up her running routine and it’s been amazing how much it has slimmed down her butt and thighs.

So I’m inspired again. Problem areas for me to work on are my lower abs and working on my core strength. Not to mention trying to continue slimming down a little bit more…I think I have about 10 more pounds to go before I’m honestly satisfied with myself. And I need to find another race to participate in before the 8K I’m aiming to run in coming in November.

And in light of this new dedication, you might see a little bit less of me around here. While I love to blog, I also need to take care of myself and make sure I don’t turn into the Fat Chick again. Not to mention the fact that I've thrown out most of my fat clothes so I can't really afford another new wardrobe.

*****

Even I can be bought for the right price

So the dreaded interaction with my in-laws took place yesterday. I hadn’t seen them since January so I pretty much knew that my luck was running out and there was no way I could talk my way out of seeing them this weekend.

Earlier in the week, Joey had decided that we would drive to a restaurant halfway to the in-laws’ house and meet them for lunch. Of course, they picked the one furthest away from us that has the worst food possible. And y’all know how I feel about food. So that instantly put me into a bad, bad mood.

Suddenly we got a phone call on Sunday morning that they had changed their mind – we met at one of my favorite restaurants that’s about an hour from us. Not that the food is gourmet or anything, but it’s good country cooking complete with huge homemade yeast rolls and the best hand-battered fresh fried shrimp you can imagine. I was salivating just thinking about it.

And the best part was that I ate so much that it tuned my hearing out so I didn’t have to listen to an hour of guilt trips and bitching about how we never come visit. I think I'll make that our standard meeting spot.

*****

It’s all about to change

Remember how excited I was about our upcoming yard project? Yeah, shoot me next time I think that one of my subcontractors is actually going to come through for me.

Well, I take that back - one of them is. My friend S, who went to work for a concrete subcontractor, is setting me up with all of the fixings for a beautiful concrete driveway. I think they’re starting in 2 weeks and I can hardly wait to have a nice smooth driveway and not have everyone carrying in little rocks in the treads of their shoes and scratching the crap out of my floors.

Now for the big news…we put down the material deposit for the retaining walls on Saturday. My subcontractor that had priced it for me back in December apparently fired their estimator (something about low-balling bids – what a shock, huh?) and discovered that he was practically giving the walls to us. So the owner came back to me wanting another $8,000 just for the front yard. Our landscape architect tried to find someone else, but the next lowest bid that came in was about double the original price.

Lo and behold, my friend M of cat door fame found a guy working in his neighborhood putting up a retaining wall. He checked some of the guy’s work, brought him by the house to price it, and voila…a price that is almost as good as our original lowball bid. And the best part is that M will coordinate the work, make a few runs by the house to make sure the guy is doing a good job, and not charge us a dime. Then the landscape architect got someone to price the landscaping which came in around the same price as our original subcontractor as well, so I think we'll have at least the front yard done by October-ish.

So, it seems that in a few weeks our yard will look significantly different with retaining walls everywhere and a beautiful new driveway. And we will be massively broke. I think this is a good thing but remind me of this when we’re eating Beanie Weenies for the umpteenth time, okay?

Death by 10K

Today was my second 10k “race”. As in “race to my own death by either vehicular manslaughter or a heart attack.”

I admit, I’m a big fat wuss – typically I walk/run on the treadmill in the comfort of our basement. No bugs, no intense heat, no freezing cold, and the ability to take potty breaks as needed. And my hair doesn't get messed up. Ideal training conditions for me, but not for running road races and it was definitely evident today.

The last one I did back in April had 25,000 participants, and I guess due to the amount of runners/walkers the police blocked off streets to all traffic. This was lovely because as I discovered, it was very difficult to maneuver around a kajillion people in the first 2 miles of the course as it was so I can’t even imagine how hard it would’ve been if we’d been limited to one lane of traffic.

Today’s race was different – limited to 1,500 entrants, most of them hard-core runners that belong to the city running club. So the police, in all of their wisdom, closed off one lane on some streets and NO LANES on other streets. At one point, I was literally running on the white line (because there was no shoulder of the road and huge 10-foot tall hedges) and praying for my life as cars went whizzing past me, including quite a few octogenarians driving to church with their battle-scarred cars with suspicious looking dents and stains on them. One jackass trying to turn out of a side street literally came within inches of hitting me, right in front of a police officer who smiled at me and said, “Don’t worry, honey, I won’t let anyone hit you.” Yeah, obviously she was doing a stellar job. I finished that section of the course in record time, needless to say. I don’t think I have ever been that scared in my life.

Long story short, I shaved 9 minutes off of my last race and honestly didn’t even prepare for this at all. As of Thursday, I wasn’t even sure that I was going to do it at all – I had almost talked myself out of it but one of the girls I work with who is a former fitness trainer told me that I should go ahead and at least try to walk the course. I jogged about 1/3 and walked the other 2/3, splitting it up fairly evenly. I ran the last ½ mile, with all of the cheering fans there it was like a huge endorphin boost and helped me get through the exhaustion and to the finish line in a personal best time for myself.

I am obnoxiously proud of myself for sticking to actually doing it, but also relieved that it is over. I told Joey that it was honestly one of the scariest things I’ve ever done in my life in terms of it not being the controlled race environment I’d experienced in my first race. But this also might be a good thing in that I will do a better job researching the course before I sign up for future races. There is an 8K coming up in September that I desperately want to do and I know that one will be well-organized and no traffic issues either. Sign me up now!

I am sore to the point that I have been useless all afternoon even with an overdose of Motrin. The sweetest part was finding my boys after the race, when Monkey Man asked me if I won the race. "Yes, sweetie, I did - because I finished. And didn't get run over by a car."

Oh, and did I mention the horribly cute outfit I bought myself for the race? Lilac top, black shorts, black hat, and of course my good old faithful Adidas shoes. I might not have been the fastest person, but damn did I look good. Isn’t that what matters?

Who's the fat chick?

During the years that I studied dance and played basketball, I was very lean and muscular – never bony, but toned and very athletic looking. For two years in college, I worked out at least four days a week and when I graduated I was in the best shape of my life. Over the years, I might have added 10 – 15 pounds at times, but was always able to get it back off again. It wasn’t until after Monkey Man was born that I really ballooned up and became truly overweight.

As I mentioned earlier, I have lost 40 pounds since last September. It actually wasn’t very difficult for me – I guess I’m one of those lucky people that have a decent metabolism, and as long as I’m eating OK and getting some regular form of exercise, the weight just falls off. I reached 40 pounds just before the end of December and have managed to keep it off. Honestly, I could probably stand to lose about ten more, but haven’t been motivated to do that because I feel like I’m “just right” for now.

On Friday I ran into one of my friends that I worked with out on the jobsite who has left the company. We hadn’t seen each other in several months, and the visible shock on his face when he saw me was pretty surprising. He grabbed me in a huge bear hug and kept repeating over and over how skinny I was and that he thought that I look great. I guess that it is pretty startling to see me now compared to how I looked last summer, but it’s almost disconcerting to have people commenting about it all the time. I mean, it seems like it’s every day that something about my weight comes up from my friends, family, and coworkers.

I think the unsettling part of it to me is that when I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see myself the way other people do…I see the baby roll still on my stomach, the ass that needs a little more firming up, and the hint of a double chin that I am so self-conscious about. It’s not that I’m displeased about my progress or the way I look now, I guess it’s just that I’m so unaccustomed to the positive attention that I’m receiving that it almost makes me cringe when people say things. It’s not that I think that they’re being hurtful or saying anything cruel…it just brings me back to the realization of how much I had lost myself for a few years.

It was a really weird period in my life, because I was so focused on everything and everyone around me that I really lost my sense of self. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see someone that was overweight…I really didn’t see anyone at all except for the shell of my former self. Gradually as the pounds came off and I started paying more attention to my health and had some really good things happening again in my life, the “old me” came creeping back in again. I feel more like Me than I have in almost five years.

The weight loss scares me. It scares me because I don’t remember how exactly I got to that place. I weigh myself every day, hoping to stop the barbarians at the gate this time before I spiral out of control again. And it scares me that I really didn’t see myself as being out of control either – so how will I recognize it again without being a slave to the scale and obsessing over gaining half of a pound?

Will I ever be comfortable in my new skin? And will I ever be able to smile and say “thanks” when someone compliments me on my weight loss instead of mentally calculating in my head how many pounds ago I saw the person? How long is it going to take me to be able to walk past a mirror or a store window, catch a glimpse of myself, and not wonder “Who’s the fat chick?”

I love the new Me, I’m just not sure when the old Me will finally be silent.

Note: The top picture was taken in October 2005, when I was about 2 weeks into my weight loss journey. The second picture was from early December, with about 28 pounds gone. The third picture is from a month ago, and 40 pounds after I started.