The quest for happy imperfection…

… it’s more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today may burn your ass tomorrow!

Poor Lucy is learning that lesson the hard way. She decided to excavate another trashcan yesterday. There were some (expired) raw eggs that had been there for a day or so, some Taco Hell leftovers from Friday, just to mention a few of the digusting things I foudn smeared all over my kitchen. Needless to say, today left her not feeling so well. Which, unfortunately, lead to my diet demise today.

So this morning hubby texts me to say that darling Lucy has the runs, what should he do with her? My response- put her in her crate for the day. We can’t leave her outside for the day and I would like to contain the chaos. Well, on my lunchbreak, I swing by the house. I open the door… oh no. The smell is immediate and awful. The sight… blech. My darling deliberately broke out fo her crate for, presumably, the sole purpose of contaminating my house. There are several biohazard dump sites all over. Good thing I wasn’t hungry when I got home, because my emergency steam clean/decon project definitely killed any desire I ever had for food.

So I get back to work and rush off to yet another fabulous staff meeting. Gag me. I fell victim to the cookies. Ugh. Afterwards, my stomach just felt jittery (I’d felt like this all day) and finally faced the fact that I needed to eat something. The hospital cafeteria had stopped serving lunch at this point (3:00)  and I needed something fast. So… ‘Donald’s drive thru. Bleh. But, ti was the most satisfying meal I’ve had in a while, weird as that sounds.

I didn’t get any exercise in again tonight… due to youth group. And, I didn’t get a chance to eat dinner beforehand. So, by the time we get home, we’re starving. And hit TacoBell. Ew. Ugh.

I will add that I did prepare a nice home cooked meal for Lucy. Boiled chicken and rice with a little bit of pumpkin to help with her digestive issues. And, naturally, all the fat and skin was removed to make it easier on her tummy. I swear, if I could put as much effort into taking care of me as I put into taking care of her, I would be much skinnier!

Now, as tonight’s eyecandy/motivation… a pair of trail running shoes I’m in lust with. I can see little glimpses of myself, through the trees, hurdling over logs with my sleek legs and cute shoes.

Low carb isn’t too bad. Though, apparently, it does mean low fun. Sugar free pudding is not nearly as fun as the muffin that I fantasized about doing dirty things to. But, I managed. I didn’t even grumble. Then again, it’s only been 24 hours. 

The nice thing about lowcarb instead of calorie counting is that you get bacon. Yum yum yum. Not even the centercut bacon I normally eat, which, while tasty, lacks the supreme amount of fat that makes it crispy, deadly, and superbly delicious.  I turned totally piggy with the bacon. Which is gross. Because bacon is made out of pig. So it’s like cannabalism. But whatever.  Lunch was much less inspiring- salad. Bleh. I had croutons on it though. I know, it’s not exactly lowcarb. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up my little piece of crunchy carby heaven. I also had some sugar free pudding. Unfortunately, I shoveled it into my mouth with vigor, hoping to truly satisfy my lust for pastry. No such luck. I imagine that will only happen once or twice. I mean, let’s face it… pudding is hardly binge-worthy.

Now… working out. Not so good. Unfortunately, today was a mix of rain, snain, and snow. Bleh. Not exactly inspiring to make you get out and go. But, I got some good cleaning done  

Let’s get this party started. Okay, so it isn’t really a cool party… the balloons are deflated, the punch isn’t spiked and there aren’t 7 minutes in heaven. But, it’s time to get it going.

Tomorrow begins the low-carbness. Please forgive me if I temporarily regress into a raving sugar deprived maniac. I’ve been eating pretty crappily lately, and it’s time to clean that up. Mainly because eating crappy makes me feel crappy. Funny how that works, huh?

So I’ve decided I need to uncover a buried part of my identity. Namely- athlete. My whole life I’ve been an athlete. I killed myself for soccer, I put in hours at the gym. I worked out until I poured out sweat and tears. And I loved every minute of it.  I didn’t work out because I felt obligated, but because I felt like it was an essential part of me and I didn’t feel right without it. Somehow, while gaining weight, I lost that desire to push, to compete, and achieve. Even when I make it to the gym, I still feel chubby me instead of athlete me making the decisions. And so I’ve finally come to the conclusion that it’s time to wipe the slate clean and start over. I can’t go back to where I left off. Because every time I go back there I just go through the motions. I plod away on the bike to nowhere. I hop on an elliptical and mindlessly pedal away. I head over to the weight machines, and, while numbly lifting away, I feel like I’m slowly killing small pieces of my soul. Perhaps a little dramatic. But the point is the same. I go to the gym so that I can say I worked out but even I know that what I did was neither satisfying to my body or my mind. In the end, I know that while I’m burning calories, I’m not pushing myself, and thus, depriving myself of the thing I love most: an exhausted, sore, and shaky sense of accomplishment. And so, my goal is to wean myself off the gym. Crazy? You bet. It’s time to get myself outside, to something new, to something difficult, and to a place where I can’t rest on what I know or what I’ve always done. Obviously, I’m nowhere near where I was. Swimming for an hour straight isn’t going to happen. Neither is squatting my weight, or running UCLAs. But, I’m going to make sure to get back there. How? No easy workouts. Not because I’m desperate to lose weight NOW, or because I want to punish myself for being overweight,  or because I’m crazy. Though, I suppose all of those things are true to some degree. But, because I know that I’m a masochist at heart, and that I’ll feel happier walking away from a workout sore and shaky than perfectly coiffed. And so, I’m determined to get back to my roots. As my little bit of motivation, my anti-kini. No bikini motivation for me, instead, I picture my sculpted arms sticking out of this cute top while I pull myself up a wall I never thought I’d climb. Granted, my girls will never be small enough to be allowed to roam free in a top like that, but still.

Let’s do this thing.

7.5 pounds. That’s how much water I retained from Friday to Monday. Eek.  DH and I took our highschool youth group to SF for the weekend. Unfortunately, I swell at sea level. This was the first time it was that bad. I felt like an old lady. Or a marshmellow. I’ll probably go see an MD at this point… cause that’s ridiculous! But, it was a good trip. Lots of walking. Which would have been more fun had I not had large kielbasas masquerading as feet.

Trying to get back on food track has been tough though. DH is working a lot, which means I’m eating alone a lot. Like, every night last week a lot. Add to that we’ve been gone every weekend (when I normally do my grocery shopping) and I end up having to go alone after work (when I’m hungry and susceptible to temptation) Needless to say… I haven’t exactly been making great decisions. So, I’ve decided to tackle this in a couple of different ways.

1. Start cooking again. I love food. (Um.. duh!) Why should I deprive myself of good food just because I’m the only one to eat it?

2. I’m giving up counting calories… for now. There’s just too much going on and I feel like my willpower is going in a million different directions. So, for now, I’m just going to go for a modified South Beach style type deal. I know that it doesn’t work for me in the long term, but it’s easier than counting calories on a time and thought basis. I know that it works for me, and I know that calorie counting works for me. So for now, I’ll go for the easy but hard to stick to, and when things calm down, switch to the harder to so but cake to stick to.

Right now I’m really focusing on using my willpower to get me to the gym, or out of it.  Tonight wasn’t too bad in that regard. Got home from work, changed, took Lucy out for a nice trail run. Okay, so, in my dreams, that’s how it happened. What really happened is that, as soon as we got out there… my body decided that it was time to stop retaining water. By peeing. I tried to push through. But we’re jogging past streams. Ah. Babbling brooks. Eek. And finally, Lucy decides to pee. So unfair. Plus, I realized that, really, the only thing I was doing was getting further away from a bathroom. So I turned around, and decided to find a bathroom. There’s a camp ground there, so I figured they would have a bathroom. I’m frantically driving around, trying to fidn the bathroom I so desperately need, without exceeding the ridiculously low (when you have to pee) speed limit and awaken the wrath of Ranger Rick. So, then, I see it. Mecca. The Promise Land. I throw her in park and dash over. I grab the door handle. It doesn’t move. I run to the next one. And the next one. Apparently, they haven’t been opened for the season yet. Proof that the universe hates me. (Luckily, I made it home with my integrity and bladder intact.)

Unfortunately, I had Bible study and didn’t have a chance to get back out there. I did, however, manage to make it to the gym. Even though it wasn’t for as long as I would normally go. Even though I didn’t want to. I did it. Now we’re cooking with gas.

First off, let me say that today was not a monumental success by any means. I ate not one, but two cookies. Now, that’s not so bad you say. Uhm… each cookie was large enough to have its own gravitational pull. Yeah…. decided to have some full on mac and cheese for lunch on top of it all.

But, let’s repeat the mantra- progress, not perfection. I went trail running tonight. Wow. It was awesome. Which is amazing from someone who feels the same way about running that she feels about hangnails. And I don’t like hangnails. Though I guess “trail running” is a little misleading… it was really more like “brisk trail walking with bouts of jogging.” But I learned a couple of things tonight:

1. I miss my boobs bouncing. Not that they don’t bounce now, but, they used to bounce more than my stomach. Ah, how I long for those days.

2. My thighs can be used as incendiary material. The way that those things rub together is dangerous for the forest!

3. Sportsbras are multipurpose garments…. running shorts don’t have pockets and one must carry iPod and car keys!

4. I really like jumping over logs. Why? I don’t know. But it’s fun. (Of course I say this now… wait til the first time I eat it face first)

5. I’m not very coordinated. I came thisclose to death a couple times. And it would have been so embarassing. My corpse wouldn’t be able to show my face in Tahoe again.

6. I actually like it. Normal running reminds me of medieval torture.  But, something about that crunch of twigs under my feet takes it to a totally different level. It’s like the trail is uneven, and crooked, and ten times more interesting. Not to mention the scenery! I went up to Fallen Leaf Lake which is just like a slice of heaven. It’s like a mini Lake Tahoe where the  water isn’t quite as blue, but even more clear, and it’s tucked away and quiet (which means less people to see me making a fool of myself).

Admittedly, it was rough to get going. A big part of that is because I get way too hot way to easily when I work out, which means a tanktop is a must. And lets just say thats not really a pretty sight. Then lets not forget that whole horribly out of shape thing.

But the good news is, I did it, I sucked at it, and I still loved it. I think that’s pretty awesome!

The cats ate my cake. Little well-intentioned monsters. Probably for the best. I had only eaten 3/4 of it all on my own in the last 18 hourss.

So… the last few weeks have been complete debauchery. I’m not going to go over the gory details. But, I can give the sad statistics. This morning I finally reached 200 pounds. And, two weekends ago I realized I’m currently unattractive to the opposite sex. Last weekend I finally found that I don’t find myself attractive. Ouch. I mean, I’m married, so I wouldn’t stand a chance with myself even if I was still cute. But, still.

Oddly enough, I really didn’t have any emotional reaction to the traumatic turn of events.  I didn’t feel an immediate need to hop on a treadmill, or, conversely, drown my sorrows and the totality of my failure in food. I don’t feel disgusted, or repulsed, angered, or motivated. I guess I really just feel resigned. I know what I need to do. I know how to do it. I know a million and seventy reasons why I should do it. I just haven’t done it.  But, it’s time for me to stop waiting to feel motivated. I need to accept that I’m rarely, if ever, going to wake up and think “ooh wouldn’t it be great to stick to a sensible eating plan and exercise regimen today!” Let’s face it, I will never like riding a bike to nowhere as much as I like eating. Especially eating things that are dangerous to my cardiac health. And with those things in mind, I need to quit waiting for that to change. I need to quit waiting to feel motivated.

And so, I’ve decided to just do it.  No gimmicks, no rewards, no special goals. Atleast not for now. For right now, working out and eating right is just a part of my life. An eventuality like death and taxes (equally as enjoyable as well)

I’d have more to say, something postive, insightful, or funny. But, it’s late, I’m tired, and I weigh 200 pounds. We’ll try again tomorrow.