"Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you..."

a.k.a. "The World's Longest Post". If you manage to make it all the way to the end of this crazy train I call a blog post, more power, kudos, my sincerest thanks and deepest appologies to you.

("Ironic" by Alanis Morissette).

So I started this blog all gung-ho, lost 12 pounds, and fizzled. I started again, and fizzled before even getting off the ground. Rinse and repeat. Rinse. and. repeat. And then I started my crazy 30 pounds in 11 weeks challenge, lasted not even two weeks, and what do you know? Fizzle fizzle bo bizzle. (I'm in a unique mood today, can you tell?)

Last week, I was just about to write a post about how I'm guessing I'm just not ready to really get into it. How I don't really have the motivation or drive. How I'm just not really caring right now, because, unfortunately, all of those things were (and pretty much are) 100% true.

Prep for whining here... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of attempting when I'm not really whole-heartedly in it, and then failing miserably. I'm annoyed and just generally over it. And with an attitude like that, I'm pretty sure failure is eminent. Resistance is futile. Danger, Will Robinson. Which ever entertainment quote you want to put there, it pretty much means I ain't losin' no weight. I ain't getting any healthier. I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no babies.

Which is quite the delightful segue into why I'm writing this post now, instead of last week. Prep for what might possibly be TMI. I was due for my yearly with my ob/gyn, and since The Hubs and I are getting up there in age (ah, 27, I never would have guessed you'd make me feel elderly, but alas) and need to start looking into family planning, I made an appointment for us to meet. I found a new doc closer to my job, and we met her on Wednesday.

Prep for shock. I have diabetes. (Okay, maybe if you've paid attention to my rambling at all over the past 8 months, that's not a shock). Diabetes makes me a high-risk pregnant woman if I were to conceive. Like, seriously, high-risk. Not "oh, well, we'll just keep an eye on it,". More like guaranteed bed rest for months, tons of testing and monitoring, possible insulin shots, blood sugar checks at least five times a day, doctor's visits at least three times a week toward the end of the pregnancy. That kind of high-risk. Now, doesn't that sound fun? Yeah, we thought so too.

But, sensing the panic mode that The Hubs and I had painted all over our faces, she throws in this little piece of optimism: if I can maintain my A1c at 5.5 for at least two months before we conceive, I'm no longer considered a high-risk pregnancy, and my pregnancy will be just like any other pregnancy except for the fact that I'm pretty much guaranteed gestational diabetes, which she believes can easily be controlled with oral medications.

Btw, for you non-diabetics, an A1c is a blood test that basically tells you what your average blood glucose levels have been over the past 3 months. Magically. Don't ask me how it does it, because my knowledge ends there. Someone without diabetes usually has an A1c at around 5%, and someone with diabetes that is out of control might be between 10 and 25%. From what I understand, if you're at 25%, you're pretty much dead.

So basically, she's telling me what my regular doctor has been telling me for a year. I need to reverse my diabetes. How do you reverse diabetes and lower your A1c? Oh, it's simple really. Diet and exercise. Lose weight. Or, re-visit and attempt to break (again. again. again. AGAIN.) that crazy cycle of "Gung-Ho, Fizzle Fizzle Bo Bizzle". Great! Fabulous! I'll get right on that. Ugh.

So we came home from that appointment and I basically laid down in bed and cried for an hour and a half. Cried and cried and cried. She had pretty much told me that all of the hopes and dreams of not only myself, but my husband, all rested on my (completely incapable) shoulders. I have to lose weight. I have to control my blood sugar. I have to do it. And if I don't? WE can't have kids. WE can't have kids because I'm fat and lazy. No pressure or anything. I'm already feeling incapable, unmotivated, ready to retreat into fatness for a little while longer, and then this happens.

(And, yes, technically, we could get pregnant. We could have kids, but the chances of them having birth defects practically quadruples, not to mention the danger to myself and the drama of being a high-risk pregnancy. I just don't think I could live with myself knowing that it was all my fat and lazy fault if our kid was messed up and my husband had to go through all that. So, no. We can't have kids unless I get my A1c down).

Weight loss: FAIL. Kids: FAIL. Good wife: FAIL. Man, I'm really sucking these days!

So where's the light at the end of the tunnel? Where's the silver lining? Where's the Eternal Optimist that you all know and love? She's here, muffled and squirming under about 50 pounds of extra weight, excited about the prospect of being pregnant and having a baby, but just a little too jaded to go straight into "Gung-ho" again. The task before me is monumentally more real and challenging knowing what is relying upon my success. I'm sure most of you are just dying to send me that comment that says "You can do it! You have a reason now! You have motivation!" and you might be right. Hopefully this is the catalyst for me finally doing the thing that I've never been able to do.

But past failures have planted that seed of doubt, and current moods are watering it daily. I wish I were able to just forget about that little, nagging voice saying "You have failed. You always fail. You will fail. Every single time before, look what you did! This is no different". But I can't. It's there, and I'm unconvinced at the moment that I can beat it down into submission. Even for a baby.

This is not to say that I'm not going to try. Hell yes, I'm going to try. I basically have 9 months before we would like to be trying for a baby, which means about 6 months to get my A1c to an acceptable level and maintain it long enough to eliminate the extra worries of the diabetic, high-risk pregnancy. My A1c in December of 2008 was 6.7. My A1c on Friday was 6.4. It is moving in the right direction, but there is still a long way to go.

It's a long, hard road out of diabetic hell, and I just have to figure out how to get my wheels turning.

"When you dream, what do you dream about?"

("When You Dream" by Barenaked Ladies).

So, this morning, right before I woke up, I dreamt that I was a “Real Housewife” from one of the shows on Bravo. Not a specific housewife from a specific city, but I was one of them. We were at a banquet type fund raiser thing, and I was sitting at a round table with all the other rich housewives, and they were all saying what charity they were supporting or whatever, and we were just sitting there drinking champagne.

Then, Ricky Martin comes out on stage and everyone goes wild and he starts singing to us. I guess he was part of the entertainment for the fund raising. So Ricky is singing and we’re all sitting there enjoying it, and he comes down and pulls me out of my chair and serenades me. (I'm not exactly a Ricky Martin fan in real life, but I was enjoying myself in my dream. Weird).

Then after he’s done, Michael Buble comes and sits at our table with us, and in the course of the conversation, I say a line from one of his songs, and he starts humming the tune. I ask him if he’s just going to sit there and hum the whole song, and he says no, and starts belting it out at the top of his lungs. So then everyone at the event is just basically screaming this song at the top of our lungs and having a grand old time.

Then Frank Sinatra and his wife come out and mingle with everyone, and we’re just all talking and socializing and having a good time, and Frank and his wife walk past me, so my back is to them. I turn around, and they’ve suddenly turned into Ronald and Nancy Reagan. Still just laughing it up and having a great time at the party. And I’m trying to take pictures of them with my camera, but they’re all turning out blurry for some reason, but I don’t care because I’m having such a good time with Ricky Martin, Michael Buble, and The Reagans.

And then I woke up.

I am a People

Yesterday was my chance to volunteer with People Working Cooperatively, a non-profit organization that helps with home repairs and weatherization for low-income, elderly people in the tri-state area.

Our assignment was to help out this gentleman, Mr. Wiggins. He lives on his own, never married, and has no surviving family members. He's also had several strokes in the past couple of years.

We were charged with cleaning out his gutters, weeding, cutting down trees that were in danger of damaging his house, and getting trees and vines off of his house and fence line. We also cut his grass for him. There were 12 of us, thank goodness, because it was a TON of work on a very hot and humid Cincinnati day.

(Front gutters before).
(Front gutters during). Yeah, that's safe...

(Gutters after).

(Front bush before).

(Front bush after). That's MFN's and my handiwork. BTW, that's MFN in the red shirt.

(Driveway before).
(Driveway before, and MFN cheesin').

(Driveway after). MFN and I are very proud, as this was our main area of concentration.

(The Group).

All in all, I'm very glad that I participated, even though it was a TON of really hard work on a really hot and humid day. Mr. Wiggins is obviously not able to care for his house on his own, as most of that stuff probably had not been touched in at least 20 years. It was nice to help him out.

We arrived at the house at around 9:20 am after our orientation at the PWC headquarters, and left a little after 1 pm. The backyard was not within our level of expertise, so we did what we could, bundled what we did, and called it a day. The front looked like a completely different house by the time we were done, though.

I'm awfully proud to be a People.

Quirks

I definitely have my fair share (plus a couple other people's fair shares) of quirks. If you're a "real life" friend, I'm sure you've been exposed to these at one point or another. If you're The BFF, and you lived with me, you're in line for sainthood.

No, seriously, be expecting a call from the Pope soon. I already talked to him, and he said he was cool with the fact that you're not Catholic. He said they're trying to open things up to "the masses".

Anyhoo. I know that I've got some strong opinions on some strange stuff, and those that love me, know me, and deal with it. Bless their little pea-picking hearts.

Iyam what Iyam, as Popeye would say, so I thought I might share with you some of the things that make me what Iyam. Enjoy my neurotic-ness.

Oh, and don't judge. You're neurotic too, I promise.


~ I refuse to buy a car that has the gas tank on the passenger side, on sheer principle. It's inefficient engineering and it shows that the car maker does not take the convenience of its' consumers into consideration. Soapbox down.

~ I cannot stand the sight or touch of popcicle sticks or unfinished wood of any kind. It literally causes a physiological reaction where my lips get dry and I start to break down in chills. Just thinking about it while writing this has made my lips dry up and tingle. Seriously.

~ I hate the sound of fingers scratching the fabric on the roof of my car. I recently not-so-gently reminded The Hubs of this when he haphazardly grabbed the Oh Shit handle and it sent me into a tizzy.

~ I can't stand it when The Hubs takes my car somewhere without me. The next time I drive it, it's on a different city's radio stations, he leaves the odometer on one of the trip meters instead of the main number, and he knocks off my seat belt hook, which usually lands under the seat never to be seen again. Every. Single. Time.

~ Background: At work we have one communal women's restroom with stalls, and one separate single restroom with a locking door. When ever I use the single room, I check the lock at least twice before doing my business. I will literally walk away from it, and back to it to double- and triple-check that it's locked. It's the one place that I really see my OCD come into play. Oh, and emails and blog posts.

~ I re-read emails and blog posts multiple times before I send them, and then even more afterward. It's a VERY obsessive compulsive behavior, and I don't know why I do it.

~ I love the southern tradition of eating salted peanuts in Classic Coke. I grew up with it, but people 'round these parts seem to think it weird. Huh.

~ I only like Andes mints after Olive Garden, and York peppermint patties after Skyline. They will sit around my house for months afterward if I have extra.

~ Except on very, very rare occasions, I refuse to see a movie that has a reputation for making people cry. The Notebook? I've heard it's awesome, but I've also heard that people cry like a baby at the end. Sorry 'bout your luck, Nicholas Sparks. Million Dollar Baby? Wouldn't see it even though everyone else was. (However, I've seen movies that I didn't know would make me cry, and were totally worth it. i.e. Pay It Forward, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, etc.)

Okay, I think I've shared enough of my neuroses for now. Do you still love me?

My Top 5: #5 - Movies

1. My Big Fat Greek Wedding
2. Dirty Dancing.

3. Horton Hears a Who.

4. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

5. Forrest Gump.

My Top 5: #4 - Historical Figures

1. Charles Darwin

2. Walt Disney.
3. Albert Einstein.

4. Mark Twain.

5. Leonardo da Vinci.

My Top 5: #3 - Authors

1. Dr. Seuss

2. J.K. Rowling

3. Sylvia Plath.

4. Edgar Allen Poe

5. Maya Angelou

My Top 5: #2 - Musicians

1. James Taylor.
2. Janis Joplin

3. Dave Matthews Band.

4. The Beach Boys.

5. (tie) Frank Sinatra and

Michael Buble.

My Top 5: #1 - Works of Art

Rules: In five separate blog posts, list your top five favorite Works of Art, Musicians, Authors, Historical Figures, and Movies, using pictures for each one. Then tag five friends to continue the process. Repost as "My Top 5".

I'm tagging:
Jack Sh*t, because he'll probably hate me for it, but might just do it anyway,
Ash, because she hasn't been around for a while,
The BFF, because she's The BFF,
Jen, because she's lovely and I'm particularly interested in her answers, and
Lyndsey, because I always tag Lyndsey.

Enjoy!


1. Robert Indiana's "LOVE" sculpture.
2. Jackson Pollock's "Shimmering Substance".
3. Vincent Van Gogh's "The Starry Night".
4. Andy Warhol's "Marilyn Prints".
5. Gian Lorenzo Bernini's "Apollo and Daphne".

11/79

Day 11: I feel myself slipping...

Calories: 1624
Exercise: Dreaded Steps of Doom...once.
Meds: Check. BS Checks, check.
Mood: Scared.

I totally could have worked out tonight, but didn't. I'm starting to slip back, and I just can't do that. I HAVE TO GET ON THE TREADMILL TONIGHT.

Who's going to come to my house and make sure I do it?

No one?

You mean I'm on my own in this whole thing? I have to do it myself?

Damn.

11 down, 68 to go. I hope I get there.

Anything but the diet...

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for another installment of "Anything But the Diet", starring your pal, Mrs. B!

~This weekend, The BFF and I get to go visit this lovely little bundle of joy -

Little Miss Olivia Grace...can't wait! She's about 7 weeks old now.

~I was at Hallmark this weekend picking out a bridal shower card for Tonja and an anniversary card for The Hubs' parents, and came across this section. It makes me very, very happy.

(if you can't tell, they are same-sex wedding cards. The one with the tuxes is labeled "For the Grooms")

~ The Hubs and I saw this movie a couple of weeks ago. It's hi-freaking-larious. And Betty White - she carries the movie.

~As I mentioned above, The Hubs' parents are celebrating their 31st year of marriage tomorrow. We're taking them out to dinner on Sunday, but I'm not sure where we're going yet. They are truly an inspiration to me, seeing as my parents have divorced (my mom's married to her third husband, my dad to his second wife).

~Speaking of anniversaries, I'm in the process of planning our big to-do for our first. I'll update you more as plans get made, but I'm super excited. We aren't going on a trip or doing anything huge, but I think it will be super fun!

~On September 12th, Tonja and Jason are getting married! The BFF and I were at Tonja's bridal shower this past weekend, and had a blast. Their wedding date also happens to be the day my step-grandparents are having a party for their 50th wedding anniversary. (Their actual anniversary is in October). We are super sad that we won't be able to go to their party, but they are taking the entire family out to dinner at the most famous restaurant in Ohio on their actual anniversary.

~My company is big into volunteer projects and recently gave us the opportunity to sign up to work with People Working Cooperatively for a day. On August 19th, I'll be attempting to do home repairs for the needy. Hopefully I will get a project like screwing in lightbulbs or something that I can't screw up. I'll let you know how it goes...

~On September 19th, a big group of us are going to the Ohio Renaissance Festival. It will be a fun-filled day of costumes, midieval games, and giant turkey legs...what could be better?!

Guess that's all for now.

10/79

Day 10 - Getting back on track.

Calories: 1105
Exercise: None - bah!
Meds: Check. BS Checks, check.
Mood: Ready for bed.

Nothing big to report today. Strange pain in my left eye that has been recurring more often lately, so I found an optometrist and have an appointment next Monday. And I think that's it.

What an exciting life I do lead.

10 down, 69 to go. Out of the 70's! Woot!

Weigh-in #2

246.6

Up 0.2 pounds.

I'd love to blame it all on TOM, but I know that having two straight days of being 600 calories over my limit didn't help. It sucks, and makes the coming weeks harder for me, but I'm not going to let it get me down.

This weekend was bad, so now I have to bounce back and get back to it. Simple as that.

Challenge Week 1 Recap:

Aug 1-9:

Exercise: 30k
Diet: Stayed within goal 7 out of 9 days
Meds: 9/9
Salads: Had two with dinner. Did not have two for dinner.
Eating out: Failed miserably at 1 lunch/1 dinner, but still managed to stay in my calories almost every day.

All in all, pretty good, but there's definitely room for improvement this week. I'm ready to go at it again...

9/79

Day 9: The saga continues...

Calories: Again, somewhere in the neighborhood of 2100
Exercise: Grocery shopping
Meds: Check. No BS checks, oops!
Mood: A little more than annoyed now...

No excuses. Sunday was just bad. I'll leave it at that.

9 down, 70 to go. As Scarlet O'Hara said, "Tomorrow is another day..."

8/79

Day 8: Disaster Strikes...

Calories: Somewhere in the neighborhood of 2100
Exercise: Lifting the margarita glass to my lips. I did at least 10-15 reps, aren't you proud?! (10-15 sips, not 10-15 drinks...I'm pretty sure I'd be dead).
Meds: Check. BS checks, check.
Mood: Annoyed with myself.

Saturday was Tonja's bridal shower. I had a light breakfast, ran a zillion errands, then decided to have a somewhat substantial lunch thinking that it would help me not be so hungry at dinner and therefore use less calories.

WRONG!

I had almost my entire day's worth of calories at dinner. Plus breakfast and lunch, plus one and a half cupcakes (the half one wasn't iced, at least), plus one and a half margaritas, plus there may have been a little chip/salsa combo going on.

Yeah, it was bad. I kept telling The BFF, "Yeah, this is totally not a $2 day." I almost feel like I should take back $2 for how bad it was, but that's not in the challenge. Not getting the tattoo is punishment enough.

8 down, 71 to go. At least I made it a week without screwing up...

Do not adjust your monitor...

Your eyes are fine. It is 11:15 pm, and I did just finish 10 effing k on the treadmill.

10 effing kilometers!

Take that, stupid diet!

7/79

Day 7: Moving along...

Calories: 1478
Exercise: I'm headed to the treadmill after I finish this post, Mom. I promise.
Meds: Check. Good BS numbers all day today! (We'll see what we get after the t5k though).
Mood: TOM makes me insane, angry, and just a full-on bitch. My husband is probably a saint, but I'm too busy being irrational to notice.

Did well today, had salads at two meals. (Not for two meals, but at least I got them in there). Getting on the treadmill both tonight and tomorrow morning because once again, life reers it's ugly head and has plans to interrupt my diet. Read: bridal shower at Bdubs tomorrow.

Wishing more and more that I could just attempt weight loss in a vaccuum, like on The Biggest Loser. No job, no kids (not that I have any, but for those of you who do), no real-life stress, someone to cook for you and shop for you, all the work out equipment you could ever imagine available to you 24 hours a day, just footsteps from your door...

It's a nice little fantasy...anyhoo.

7 down, 72 to go. Keep on keepin' on.

6/79

Day 6: The challenge heats up.

Calories: 1489
Exercise: I walked from my car to the booth at Olive Garden. Does that count? No? I had to park in the back 40 - count now? Still no? Wow...you guys are tough.
Meds: Check. Forgot my post-food BS check tonight...oops!
Mood: Pleasantly surprised.

You do what you gotta do. That includes eating a really light breakfast and lunch in order to be able to order something at your favorite restaurant. It includes printing off a copy of the nutritional info for said restaurant and whipping it out at the table. It includes asking your Mother in Law if she wouldn't mind ordering the salad with dressing on the side. It includes paying VERY CLOSE ATTENTION to everything that you put in your mouth. It includes ordering water even though you would like nothing more than about seventeen diet cokes with lemon. It includes having the willpower to say "No, thanks, I don't need or want any more of your delicious, warm, garlic buttery breadsticks." (And that, my friends, is what I call willpower).

6 down, 73 to go... and today I conquered the Garden of evil!

Battle of the Bulge

Quite literally.

Do you know how hard it was for me to turn down going out to lunch with my 3 favorite co-workers today? Extremely hard. Extremely hard which turned into monumentally hard when they decided to go to B-Dubs. B-Dubs?! One of my absolute favorite restaurants? And one of the absolute unhealthiest restaurants to partake in?

I won the battle. It was a close fight. There was much bloodshead and many tears, but I won the battle.

It's the war that I'm focusing on.

(f.y.i. TOM is evil and makes my life a living hell. That is all.)

5/79

Day 5: Goin' strong.

Calories: 1427
Exercise: t5k. Fourth time in five days, yeah buddy!
Meds: Check. And good blood sugar numbers today!
Mood: On top of the world lookin' down on creation.

So didn't want to get on that treadmill, but did. I know tomorrow is going to be rough with going out with the MIL, and I'm not sure if I'll have time to work out after. Had to do it today. And I'm glad I did because I feel great.

5 down, 74 to go. (Your love's put me at the top of the world...)

4/79

Day 4: Keep on truckin'.

Calories: 1479
Exercise: t5k. Thought I was gonna die, but made it through.
Meds: Check. Almost forgot, and had to get back up out of bed to take them. BS Checks, check. Highest ever (221) after workout and shower. Must ask doc what that's about.
Mood: Uplifted

So far staying in the calories hasn't been too much of a challenge. That will change tomorrow night when I have dinner with my MIL at The Olive Garden. What to do, what to do?

Hopefully I'm on track for 2.8 pounds by Monday - I think I am. I'm super sore after my t5k yesterday, so tonight I think I'm just going to try not to push it. Maybe not run much, mostly fast walk. We'll see how it goes!

4 down, 75 to go. I'm ready!

3/79

Day 3: Nice and easy.

Calories: 1389
Exercise: None officially, but I did do some shopping and cleaning around the house.
Meds: Check. Blood sugar checks, check.
Mood: Optimistic and excited.

Today was nice - being at home when I should have been at work is always a pleasant experience. I slept in, watched about a million episodes of A Baby Story on TLC, watched a very appropos episode of Oprah regarding morbidly obese people, saw The Hubs off to school, shopped (got an amazing deal on two pairs of cute flats from Target - less than $10 total!), and cleaned.

Now, I'm watching Intervention on A&E because it's just absolutely riveting.

3 days down, 76 to go. Moving right along.

Weigh-in #1

246.4

Down 2.8 pounds! Woot!

Even though the challenge didn't start until Saturday, I was gearing up for it all last week - paying attention to what I ate and such. 2.8 pounds! Yay!

27.2 to go, 77 days to get there (including today).

Challenge update tonight, kiddies! Have a good day!

2/79

Day 2: A little bit harder...

Calories: 1495
Exercise: t5k - mostly fast walking because of soreness from 'real' 5k
Meds: Check. Plus some blood sugar testing. Got some random results, like a high of 179 after working out and more than 2 hours post food. Weird.
Mood: Meh.

I just barely made it in my calories today, with the dinner at the 'rents house proving a worthy adversary. I succeeded, though. Even talked my sore ass into getting on the treadmill for a 5k. Boy, was that rough.

Noticed that I only made it to Day #2 before I was acutely aware of any and all junk food in my surroundings - on tv, at the parents' house, etc. I swear, the more you try to avoid it, the more you focus on it. Life's just sweet like that.

Off tomorrow - gonna try to sleep in, then maybe do some window shopping. Aaaand, since I have nothing better to do, maybe I should try to work in a t5k, huh?

Yeah, probably.

2 down, 77 to go. Weigh in tomorrow...eek!

1/79

Day 1: It's always easiest at the beginning...

Calories: 1350
Exercise: Lady Distance Classic 5k
Meds: Check. Including two blood sugar checks @ 90/140. Not too shabby.
Mood: Wiped out but optimistic.

Did the 5k today, took a 4 hour nap, went grocery shopping and bought supplies for week 1 of my challenge. Now I'm going to go watch some tv and work really hard at resisting the urge to snack.

Tomorrow will be dinner at my Dad's house, which will be a challenge in and of itself. I plan on doing a t5k before we leave.

Monday, I'm off work! I took a random vacation day because I haven't been off in forever. The best part about it is that I keep randomly remembering that I don't have to go to work on Monday, and it instantly uplifts my mood. The interesting part will be being at home with The Hubs all day. I just plan on vegging and staying out of his way.

By the way, I guess I should tell you all that I'm counting my starting weight as last week's weigh-in weight: 249.2. So for me to reach my goal, in 11 weeks I need to weigh in at at least 219.2.

Day 1 down, 78 more to go. Easy peasy, drill sergeant.

"It ain't pretty..."

("Pretty Vegas" by INXS).

Well, it doesn't really require much of a post to tell you that I sucked this go round. 49:twenty-something. Bah. I'm sure there are many things on the list of why I ADDED two minutes to my time, not the least of which are the fact that I weigh 250 pounds and haven't ran since the week after my last 5k.

(As you all know, that's changing as of today - the official start day of my challenge!)

Anyway, I'll leave you with pictures, since I don't really have anything else to say on the subject of my suckiness...

I suppose we all just wear bed sheet togas...

The 5k I'm running in tomorrow is sponsored by a popular local running store. I went to the store today to pick up my race packet. Let me preface this little story by telling you that the store was pretty well populated...it certainly wasn't dead in there. Plenty of ears around for the following verbal transaction between myself and the older gentleman manning the packet pick-up table.

OG: Name?
Mrs. B: Mrs. B.
OG: Ah, here you are, Mrs. B. Shirt size, extra large. No...WAIT! ONE X?! I didn't know they made them that big!
Mrs. B: *stunned silence*

Really? Seriously?! The man was just kind of clueless. He really wasn't trying to be malicious or mean, but saying something like that out loud? Let alone loudly out loud? In a populated place?

Where's that brain-to-mouth filter when you need it? Ugh.

"A change gonna come"

"Oh, there been times that I thought I couldn't last for long,
But now I think I'm able to carry on,
It's been a long, a long time coming,
But I know, a change gonna come. Yes it will."
("A Change is Gonna Come" by Sam Cooke)


The mission: I will lose 30 pounds in 11 weeks.

The rules:
1. I will stay under 1,500 calories per day.
2. I will do a t5k at least four times per week. Every week.
3. I will eat salad for at least two of my meals per week.
4. I will eat lunch and dinner out only once per week.
5. I will take all of my medications as prescribed.
6. I will lose at least 30 pounds (2.74 pounds per week) at the end of 11 weeks.

The reward:
For each of the 79 days of this challenge (August 1 - October 18) that I successfully complete, I will deposit $2 into a dedicated bank account. If I have lost at least 30 pounds after 79 days, that money will go towards getting the tattoo of my dreams (which I am expecting to cost between $200 and $300).

If I have not lost 30 pounds after 79 days, the money I have collected will go into our regular savings account and I will have to wait until we can save up the money again and I have lost at least 30 pounds to get the tattoo.

My first wedding anniversary is October 18th - 11 weeks from this weekend. My original goal this year was to lose 60 pounds by this date, which would put me at under 200 pounds for the first time since high school. Waffling around for six months has made this goal less than realistic, and as I've always said, losing ANY amount of weight is a victory. If I did nothing more, I would probably finish this year saying I lost 10 pounds and ran two 5ks. While that's definitely progress over last year and pretty much every year up to now, that's just not good enough for me. I will finish this year saying that 2009 was the year I lost forty pounds and ran five 5ks.

Thirty pounds. Eleven weeks. One possible outcome: success (and a new tattoo to show for it).

I'm going to need your help, but I'm going to do it by and for myself. Are you with me?

p.s. A super-special-you're-the-bomb Thank You to Lyndsey for suggesting and unwittingly letting me steal her awesome reward idea...

Wanted: Reward

I've got something brewing...something big for me. I'll fill you in on it when I get all the little details worked out.

Here's the problem:

I don't know how to reward myself. I don't know what to work towards (other than weight loss and health benefits, obviously). Should I reward myself weekly, since I've got a gnat-sized attention span? What can I do that is somewhat inexpensive, since I've got a gnat-sized bank account at the moment? I want something good that will help keep me motivated, and I just don't know what that something or somethings good is. Are. Whatever, you get the picture.

I don't know what to do, and that's a big, fat chunk missing from my big, fat plan.

Help!

Mystery and Intrigue at Chateau Noir...

You all know by now how The Hubs’ crazy schedule is: on Mondays he has class from 7-9:15, and work from 10p – 6:30a. This means that I get to see him after I get home at 5:35 until he leaves around 6-6:10. The past few Mondays I’ve come home, he’s been up running around, making his lunch or finishing some last-minute homework and whatnot. One day a couple weeks ago, I got home, tried to open the door, and found he had it chained. He promptly rushed to the door and opened it for me. Trust me, Grasshopper, this will all make sense in a minute.

Last night, I got home at my normal time. I unlocked our door, pushed it open, and BAM! found it chained again. Assuming that my husband was running around as usual, I shut the door and waited for him to come rushing over to unlock it, only…he never came. After a few seconds, I opened the door as far as the chain would let me and realized that it was completely dark and silent in my apartment. I think, his car’s outside, and the chain’s on the door, so obviously, he’s got to be home. I call his cell phone – straight to voicemail. I call his cell phone again – straight to voicemail. (What’s that saying? The definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Just call me crazy.) I think I called his cell phone at least 4 times, and every. single. time. – straight to voicemail.

I think, Okay…I can’t get to him on the phone, and the door’s chained. How else can I get into this house without having to break down the door? The windows are all locked, so that won’t work. I had a fleeting pang of hope when I remembered that I have a key to the sliding glass door, but we’ve got a metal bar on the inside so that it can’t be slid open. I try in vain to somehow magically snake my arm around inside the door and simultaneously pull it as closed as possible to try and undo the chain. If you’ve ever seen a movie, you know this won’t work, and only succeeded in making me look like an idiot when our neighbor decided that that exact moment would be the one in which he would take his teacup Chihuahua out to poop.

I yell Jack's name, I bang on the door, I yell his name some more. There’s a very fine balance I’m trying to strike here, because the apartments I live in are not exactly strangers to the cops. I don’t want to yell and bang too much because I don’t want to (a) embarrass myself even more, (b) have the cops called on me, and (c) have to explain this situation to ANYONE. Without any other solutions in sight, I yell, and bang, and push on the door some more.

Now, at this point, I’ve been struggling to get into my own house for almost 25 minutes and I’m starting to panic. The Hubs is always up on Mondays. What is going on?! Why isn’t he up running around getting ready for school? Why is his phone dead? Is HE dead? Did somebody break in and kill him, and then chain the door to slow me down from finding him, and leave out the bedroom window? Did he have a heart attack from all the stress of night school and working third shift and having a crazy lady who’s contemplating breaking down the door for a wife? (Remember…I’m in panic mode).

Add this situation to the two other ill-fated chained-door entry issues in the past, and the door jam was barely hanging on by a thread (or a screw, I guess) at this point. I could push on the door and the jam would bow out from the wall, only attached at the top and bottom. Now, I’m panicked, my husband has surely been savagely murdered by someone conscientious enough to come back and chain the door before exiting out a window, or he’s in the throws of a heart attack, and I need to get to him. The only solution is to break open the door. So I start pushing on the door, and wedging my hand in between the jam and the wall, seriously hoping that I don’t get a splinter or get mamed by the screws hanging precariously on the jam. I’ve screamed his name, I’ve banged on the door, I’ve called his phone, I’ve solidified my crazy lady existence to the neighbors, and now I’m trying to break in to my own house.

Finally, I succeed, and the door jam breaks away from the top of the wall with a loud *crack* but remains connected to the bottom. It's enough for me to start working my way in the door, and then I hear an “oh, shit!” from the back room. I knew instantly that my husband was, indeed, alive, and not suffering from gunshot wounds or a heart attack, and I wanted to kill him. Since the jam was still connected at the bottom, the door was still only partially open but I could see The Hubs rushing down the hallway from the bedroom. “Are you okay?” I whimpered, and by the time he got to the door, I was leaning against a wall in the hallway completely sobbing. The thought that he could have seriously been gone had finally hit me. And then relief, mixed with absolute fury over the experience that I had just had took over. It manifested itself in blubbery, loud sobs.

Jack, concerned that my crying in the hallway might elicit some response from the neighbors, (as if the yelling, banging, and breaking down the door wasn’t enough) told me to come inside, but I couldn’t get my shit together. The purse I’d dropped on the floor in my attempt had spilled, and the decorative hanger that I had flung down there after my attempts to open the door got serious, lay discarded too. I finally managed to gather all my things, come in the door, and throw them on the ground. I calmly and politely asked my loving husband to not lock the chain while I'm gone, which came out something like, “You better never fucking lock that thing again!”, and sat down to decompress.

The Hubs, who probably had not once been scared for his own life that day until AFTER I got in the door, said he was sorry, and that his phone was dead and that he had been sleeping. I wasn't quite ready to chat yet, so he got all of his stuff together for school. I made myself dinner, made his lunch, kissed him goodbye, and spent the rest of the evening watching bad tv (Hello? Bachelorette? Ed gets the last measly 5 minutes, and you give Reed a half an hour?!) in bed.

This morning, the door jam is still hanging there, the chain is unuseable, and all is (at least temporarily) right with the world.