Bad Pictures of a Recent Project

But before we get to that -

I have a slight obsession with these:

And I will usually have two or three (five is 200 calories, so 40 calories each) after lunch at work. And y'all know that Dove is famous for their little affirmations or sayings that are printed on the inside of the wrapper. You know, they usually say things that aim at getting you to slow down and indulge in a "moment" or whatever.

However, I have noticed two recently that really kind of irk me. One that says "Chocolate Loves Unconditionally", and this one that I just unwrapped today:

Really, the "Chocolate Loves Unconditionally" one is the one I have a major problem with. I could totally be a Debbie Downer who thinks too much about this stuff, but when obesity is such a problem in this country, and when eating disorders so often center around emotional needs, it seems so irresponsible for a chocolate company to feed into that with these "comforting" messages of love by chocolate. Chocolate does NOT love unconditionally. Chocolate doesn't love at all. And an overweight person who is dealing with their emotions by way of comfort food is probably going to read that and go, 'Aww....chocolate loves me. I should eat more of it because it makes me feel good!" While they're not addressing their emotional issues at all.

I don't know. It just bugs me.

But on to my project that has been taking up all my time for the past couple of months. My friend Tonja is pregnant with her second baby (another girl!) and The BFF threw her a shower this weekend. I decided a couple months ago, because I apparently didn't learn my Christmas Dish Cloths lesson and I'm an idiot who is a glutton for punishment, that I would crochet her a baby blanket.

Unlike dish cloths, I was not up until 3 am the morning of the shower working on the blanket, amazingly enough. I finished it at 11:30 pm the night before, thankyouverymuch. I wanted to make a ripple/chevron afghan, so I scoured the interwebs to find a simple pattern, and totally scored with an amazing Youtube tutorial for a pattern called "Lazy Waves". If you're a crocheter, the whole thing is nothing but Double Crochet (DC) and Double Crochet Together (DCTog or DC Decrease) stitches. SUPER simple, even I could do it!

Anyway, as I began working on it, I slowly started falling in love with it, even though it was a huge PITA (Pain In The Ass). Even though it was simple, I was using very fine/soft baby yarn, so the stitches were super small and slippery. One row, at the beginning, took me more than 30 minutes to do. There are 82 rows in this blanket. So even when I got a little faster, and each row was taking me about 20 minutes, you're looking at at least 1,640 minutes of work on this afghan. Not to mention all the weaving in of ends I had to do after changing between colors. And if you're curious, like I was, 1,640 minutes is more than 27 hours. Tonja's lucky I like her.

So by the time I was finished and had invested 27 hours of my sweat and tears into this thing, I was kind of sad to see it go. Before I wrapped it up, I took a bunch of pictures of it. But the lighting in my apartment is horrible, so they don't really show how pretty it really was. If you're interested, I used Bernat BabySoft and Softees yarn for this project. I used one whole large skein of hot pink and less than one large skein each of the Burl Gray and White. The final size was probably 2.5 feet by 4 feet-ish. I forgot to measure.

Without any further ado, the bad pictures:

It was a huge hit! Tonja loved it, and the little girls at the shower all wanted to be wrapped up in it at once. It was so worth all the time I put into it, and I hope her baby girl enjoys it! 

For now, though, I have to force myself to not start any more crochet projects because I have so much else going on. And I know that if I did start one, I would totally use it to procrastinate from doing any of the things I really need to be doing...*cough*SCHOOL*cough*. 

What about you guys? What is your go-to procrastination method? Crafts? Books? Hiding under the covers and pretending everything outside the bed doesn't exist? Tell me! 

Wednesday Weigh-In and a NSV!

Last Week: 250.2 lb
This Week: 249.6 lb
Loss: 0.6 lb

Huzzah! The 240's! Finally.

I'm not comfortable hovering so close to the 250s, so hopefully I can get my eating and exercise together this week to make sure I get as far away from the 250s as possible. But, yay! 240s!

I only made it to the fitness center those two days last week. Stupid training got in the way. And even though our fitness center is open both before and after work, I'm not willing to make the changes that it would require to do so.

My MIL drives about 45-50 minutes every morning to come to our apartment and watch Logan every day. This means she's leaving her house at about 6:15 am to be at my house in time for me to leave for work. I'm not willing to ask her to leave an hour earlier so that I can get a workout in. She does so much for us already, and the drive is hard enough. I don't think she'd be willing to do it, and frankly, I'm not willing to ask her to.

And as far as after work is concerned, technically, I could do that. The Hubs is home with Bubber Man, and I know that he wouldn't mind if I stayed late a couple nights per week. However, my drive home is about 45 minutes. If I stay an hour late to work out, I wouldn't get home until at least 6:45. Logan goes to bed between 8 and 9, and I like to spend as much time with him as possible, because, you know, he's my kid. 

And I guess, if you were going to go all Jillian Michaels "no excuses" on my ass, the second one would really just be an excuse as to why I don't want to work out at night. Technically, I would still get to see my kid, even if it were only for an hour or two. To some people, that might be enough. Or exercising might be so important that it trumps kid time. No judgement here, but that's not me. Call it an excuse if you want, but my baby is only a baby once, and he's already growing up so fast that I just can't imagine missing any more of it than I already do.

Ah, mother's/wife's/employee's guilt. We're having fun, aren't we?

So, that pretty much leaves lunch time workouts for me. Except for the fact that the fitness trainer does classes from 12 to 1 and 1 to 2. So what I was doing last week, was taking a super early lunch from 11 to 12 and working out then, while I had the facility mostly to myself, and then eating my lunch at my desk after. I'm okay with this set up, so that's the plan for now.

Wow. This post went somewhere I wasn't planning on going. LOL

Oh! My NSV! I almost forgot...

Probably 8 years ago, I bought a grey peacoat. And it basically fit until I got super pregnant in late 2010. After that, and even after having Logan, it buttoned no more. Like, I couldn't even sausage myself into the thing. None of the buttons would close without fear of one popping off and taking someone's eye out. So, winter of 2011, I bought a new, much larger, coat and have been wearing it ever since.

Until today, baby!

I'm back in the peacoat! And nobody is in danger of losing an eye! Thirty one and a half pounds down and the coat is back with a vengeance.

Can I get an amen?!

I want YOU!

To have a safe and happy 4th of July!

The most interesting (wo)man in the world...

Alternate Title: "Scenes from Mommyland"

Alternate Alternate Title: "I'm A Sucker For a Good Tagline"

Scene: Bubbers is laying on his changing table, I'm undressing him to give him a bath. He loves it when you make a big deal out of pulling off his socks one at a time.

Me: "Uno sockie! Dos sockies! Dos sockies. I don't always wear socks, but when I do, it's dos sockies."

Logan: (giggle)

Stay thirsty, my friends.

Old Beginnings and New Endings

The post below was my very first Breaking Up With Burgers post, written on December 10, 2008. My how things haven't changed...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I will go in this way, and find my own way out..."


Here I am. 26 years old, married for 52 whole days, 260.6 pounds (really?! When did that happen?!), newly-diagnosed Type 2 diabetic, gallbladderless, and scared shitless that I'm not going to get to spend the 60 years that was mutually agreed on with my husband.


I have been told that if I want to start a family, I have no choice but to lose weight, get my diabetes under control, and (oh, that dreaded word...) change. Not an easy change, you know, like changing the sheets on the bed, although I could stand to be better at that, too. No. Life-altering, get-off-your-lazy-ass-'cuz-that's-how-you-got-this-way, hardest-work-you'll-ever-do kind of change.


Shit.


I suck at that.


(Obviously, since I'm 26 and have never stepped on a scale to see a smaller weight than the year before. NEVER.)


There are about a gazillion different reasons and/or excuses I could tell you as to why I find myself in this place. My parents had a nasty divorce when I was younger, and food was comfort. I didn't have money or parental support to get into sports as a kid. There is a history of obesity in my family. My gallbladder was removed and I don't process fat as well. Whatever you want to hear, I've got it for you. What it boils down to, though, is this:


1. I am in a love affair with bad food. Greasy, cheesy, fried, barbecue-sauced goodness. Ugh, I'm drooling like Pavlov's dog just thinking about it. It is my companion when everything else sucks. How do you let go of something that makes you happy because you know it's bad for you?


2. I am lazy. Jack (my "almost too handsome in a 'What in the hell are you doing with me?' sort of way" husband) and I come home from work - where I sit on my ass, mind you, and he stands on his feet all day - eat, and crash. I love my Dancing With the Stars, Private Practice, Boston Legal, Amazing Race, Two and a Half Men, etc. Reality junkie? Right here. I guess I'd rather be a voyeur into someone else's reality than deal with my own. Okay, you psychiatrists out there: have your field day. We have lot's to talk about.


3. I am scared. All I've ever done with weight loss is fail. Hell, let's broaden our view, shall we? All I've ever done with life is fail. I graduated from high school, went to work, made a decent attempt at a communication degree, and then f*ed that up. I'm horrible with money. I slack at my job. I feel entitled to the 'creature comforts' of life that we really can't afford. In general: I don't have it all together. I don't have anything together, and I'm absolutely petrified that I will never be able to change my ways. That's a lot of stuff to do, man, and I already told you: I'm lazy! I'm scared to tell people that I have goals because I don't want to deal with the consequences of not meeting them. It's so much easier to beat myself up for not doing something, than to see the disapproval of my friends and family when they realize that I've not accomplished yet another goal. I'm the fucking Chicken Little of weight loss.


I love my husband, my friends, and my family. I want a dog, a house, and a nicer car. But I also want to be able to enjoy those things. I want to sit on my husband's lap. I want to do more than just go out to eat with my amazing friends. I want to impress my family. I want to give a dog the home and exercise he deserves. I want the energy to do things around the house. And I want to be able to bend over while sitting in that nicer car, and be able to grab something off the floor.

While we're on the subject, let's talk about some other random things that I want to be able to do: Sit comfortably in an airplane. Buy cute clothes. Wear a swimsuit. Use regularly sized towels in the shower. See my belly button (it's been hidden for years!). Feel sexy, even though my husband swears I am. Have something better to go on than just my 'big boobs'. Sleep better at night. And the list goes on and on.


So here's the thing: I have to do it. It took 26 years, but my body is finally giving me the choice: (wo)man up, or die miserably. If morbid obesity, gallstones, and diabetes don't tell me something, then I don't know what will. So here, in this crazy big world, I'm sending it out there. Hold me accountable. I dare you.


My goal is to weigh under 200 pounds by my first anniversary: October 18th, 2009.


61 pounds. 213,500 calories burned, that's all. Piece of cake...


Shit. Okay, so I've got a long way to go.


But my new life starts now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It breaks my heart to read this now - two and a half years later.  I still have diabetes. I'm still (if not even MORE so) morbidly obese. I weigh more now than I did when I wrote the original post. I'm still lazy. I'm still horrible at getting/keeping "it" all together. I didn't even take the risk of having a high risk pregnancy seriously enough to change my ways.

I am exceptionally successful at failure.

It's times like these when an introspective person, such as myself, might read these words and wonder why she even bothers writing again. Why bother trying again? Why bother risking the possibility that I'll start things up and fail miserably? Again. Why set myself up to fail? AGAIN.

Why? Because struggling with weight isn't a one and done sort of thing. I am willing to bet my right arm (which I really like, by the way,) that there isn't one person in the world who has struggled with a weight issue once and only once in his or her life. It's not the nature of the beast for it to work that way. Being healthy is a continual journey, one that you aren't even finished with after you've fought the battle of the bulge and the war on weight.  When I do succeed, I'm still going to have to think about it and fight tooth and tummy every day.

So, yes, I have failed. Yes, I didn't do what I said I was going to do. Yes, there's the chance that this time will be no different. But.

But, but, but.

There's a wee  bit of me, a tiny little sliver, that just once wants to fail at failing. And as long as that spark is still there, the journey isn't over.

There's still a chance for this old, warn out beginning to have a new and different ending.

Where have you been all my life?

So, the obvious song choice for the title of this blog should have been "It's Been A While" by Staind. Have I ever been one to do the obvious? Nah, it takes the fun out of life.

In the past six months, my life has changed dramatically. And mostly, for the better. I thought I'd creep my toes back into the shallow end of the blogging pool by telling you all about my favorite part of the last six months.

Gaining 18 pounds.

Just kidding, sort of.

I have gained almost 20 pounds since Logan was born, but that's a post for a different day. The 18 pounds I'm talking about is a giggly, bouncy, poo-filled bundle of joy.

Here's the story of Logan (or Bubbers, Bubberoo, Bubby, Bubber Man, etc.):

Grab your popcorn and make yourself comfy, because it's a long read.

Logan was born on Thursday, December 23, 2010. I had been put on bed rest starting November 18th because of extreme swelling and elevated blood pressures. The doctors were concerned about the possibility of me developing pre-eclampsia.
Everything was going fine until a doctor’s appointment on November 24th. They checked my blood pressure and it was extremely elevated, so they sent me to triage and ultimately admitted me for 24-hour observation. When my proteins and blood work came back perfectly normal, they sent me home with a prescription for blood pressure medicine and an order to do 24-hour urine tests and pre-eclampsia blood work every week until delivery.

Two weeks later, at another regular check-up, my blood pressure was still elevated after being on a double dose of the blood pressure medicine, so they sent me to triage and admitted me again. I was in for 72 hours at that point, with no plan to deliver the baby even though I had made it to 37 weeks. One of my doctors said that we would do an amniocentesis the following Wednesday (December 15th) and if Logan’s lungs were mature, they would induce me the following morning at 3am.

I went in for the amnio, which had to be done twice, and the end result was that Logan’s lungs were not developed enough to deliver early. I was given the choice to do another amnio in a week (December 22nd) to check again and then be induced the following day, or to wait until we had reached 39 weeks and deliver on December 28th or 29th without another amnio. The Hubs and I decided to go ahead and do the second amnio to try to have Logan delivered before Christmas.

On December 22nd, The Hubs and I went in for the follow-up amnio, which was to be done by my primary doctor who was finally back in the country after being out of the country for most of my pregnancy. Luckily, she was going to be in charge of my care from that point forward, since I couldn't stand the other doctors that had taken her place. She came in to do the amnio, but ordered another growth ultrasound first, saying that if he was “too big”, they would recommend a c-section be done soon. We did the growth ultrasound and Logan was estimated to be at 9 pounds 3 ounces, so she very strongly recommended we do a c-section at 39 weeks without going through another amnio that day. The Hubs and I were heart broken at the thought of having to do a c-section and not being able to have Logan the “regular” way, but we decided that it was what was best for Logan’s and my health. We were scheduled to come in at 9am on Sunday, December 26th for the c-section. Once we had the time and date, we called all the grandparents and gave them the information so that they could plan to be there for the birth.

Later on that same day, I had to go back to the office for a regular check-up. The Hubs and I were thinking that we already had the c-section planned for that Sunday, so we didn’t bother packing up all the things that we would need for the hospital stay. At the appointment, my blood pressure sky-rocketed to 196/110 and the doctor made the decision to send me to triage and then admit me, saying that Logan would be born either that night or the following morning, since my blood pressure was not responding to the two medications they had me on.

Once in triage, they took blood and a urine sample to be tested. If the lab work came back badly, we would be doing an emergency c-section that night. If the lab work came back fine, we’d be doing the c-section at 8 am the next morning (December 23rd). The Hubs and I were so relieved to know that there was a real end in sight! He left the hospital to go home and pick up all of our stuff while I waited in triage for my lab results.

My results came back fine (as they always did, proving that I just suffered from Pregnancy Induced Hypertension and not Pre-eclampsia) so the plan was made for us to be admitted to the hospital and have my c-section at 8 am Thursday, December 23rd. The Hubs made it back to the hospital (an hour and a half round trip) and I was admitted to a Labor and Delivery suite to wait out the night and call the grandparents with the new plan. They put in my IV and hooked me up to fluids that night, and our amazing nurse, Sarah, made the night so much less stressful than I thought it would be.

Close to 8 am the following morning, they took me to the operating room to start my epidural. The anesthesiologist was amazing, and only had to try once to place it. The epidural procedure itself was very strange, and it felt like Velcro being ripped apart in my spine, but didn’t hurt. Shortly after, my legs started going numb and tingly, and felt like they were placed in buckets of ice water from the inside out. They laid me down on the table and placed the curtain up in front of my face so that I couldn’t see anything. After a few minutes, they started talking about beginning the surgery so I asked for The Hubs. He came in shortly after and sat by my head.

I couldn’t feel anything the whole time, not even any tugging or pulling. The only thing that ever scared me was at the beginning of the process. I started feeling the epidural in my chest and couldn’t tell if I was breathing or not. I had to tell myself to breathe in and out so that I knew I was still breathing. I told the anesthesiologist and she did something that fixed the problem.

The Hubs took video and still pictures throughout the whole surgery, and the anesthesiologist told him that she would tell him when they were about to pull Logan out so he could get pictures. Once they pulled Logan out of me, he got pictures and video, and we both cried. Logan was born at 8:40 am, weighed 10 pounds even, and was 21 inches long. The Hubs followed Logan over to the warmer where there was a team of doctors on hand to make sure that he was healthy. They had to remove some fluid from his lungs, and he scored 6 and 9 on his one and five minute APGARS.

Minutes after birth.

10 pound Christmas Turkey

It seemed like it took forever for them to finish stitching me up, but it didn’t matter to me because Logan was out safely. Once they were finished with me, they moved the three of us to a recovery room for a couple of hours. The BFF was the first person other than us to hold Logan, and then shortly after, some of the grandparents got to see him.

Mama and Bubbers

Logan spent the vast majority of his first Christmas Eve sleeping because he had had his circumcision, Hepatitis B Vaccine, and PKU test all done that day. It was a rough Christmas Eve for him. We promised him that Santa would bring him a day where he didn’t get pulled out of a uterus, stuck with a needle, or operated on for Christmas.

Christmas Eve Grinch

The Hubs started our Christmas tradition of reading ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve, and we went to bed. On Christmas Day, they let us go home (24 hours early), and like crazy people, we drove an hour and a half north to visit The Hubs' family and then 2 hours back south to visit my family for Christmas. With a two-day old. And did I mention that I had no pain medication because no pharmacies were open on Christmas Day? Yeah, it was fun.

Ready to head home!

But it has been totally worth it all. The hard pregnancy, the hospital stays, the c-section, every bit of it. Having Logan has been the most challenging, but most fun experience I've ever had, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Now, if you read that whole thing, give yourself a pat on the back from Bubber Man.

Oy!

I miss you guys! I'll be back soon, I promise!

For now, how about a picture of the fam? (Logan was 3 months old in this picture, he's almost 6 months old now).

Christmas Presents...

He's here...

Logan Jeffrey was born (via c-section, long story) at 8:40am on Thursday, December 23, 2010. He weighed 10 pounds even and was 21 inches long.

We're completely smitten, of course.

Still pregnant...

But hopefully not for long!

Compare and Contrast

The Bump at 24w2d, and again today, at 28w4d:

Wowza.

Well, hello there!

Logan and I say "hi"!

25 Week Bump



Turtle!

It's a boy!!! We found out today that Logan Jeffrey will be joining our family this winter. He's doing great, and is right on target for size, so no worries about a big diabetic baby yet!

Good news! Yay!

With the quickness...

Just updating to let you all know that I'm alive. You can breathe your heavy sigh of relief now.

Life is swimming along. The Hubs graduated on Friday night. The baby is growing like a weed. Life is generally hectic.

Oh, and I got to go Curling at the Utah Olympic Oval. Seriously. It was the most fun I think I've ever had. I'll post pictures eventually, scouts honor.

And that's all, folks! :)

Summer List

Knowing that I'm going to have a baby next summer, I really want to enjoy this summer to the fullest. So here's my Summer Fun To Do List. Let's see how well I do...

• Attend at least 3 Cincinnati Reds games
• Attend at least 1 Dayton Dragons game
• Attend at least 2 Kilkare Races
• Go canoeing at least once
• Go to the Cincinnati Zoo at least 4 times (not including Festival of Lights in the winter)
• See at least 3 movies

What's on your Summer Fun To Do list? Anything I should add?

Little B's first picture...

Everything looks good so far - all my tests have come back with good results. Little B is a week younger than we previously thought, which changes my due date to 01/01/2011.

Yo

I'm alive and 8 weeks pregnant today. Nothing new.

Peace out.

Word to your mother.

Etc.

Busy bee...

Life and work are both crazy busy this week. What with trying (in vain, might I add) to get used to this whole pregnancy thing and what havoc it's reeking on my body, to trying to get used to sticking a needle in my stomach 3 times a day, to trying to keep my husband from finding the nearest ledge to jump off of, to trying to stick to 60 carbs at dinner time. (Side tangent, do you know what 60 carbs will get you at The Olive Garden? Two breadsticks. Seriously. How ridonkulous is that?!)

At any rate, yeah, it's busy.

(The Hubs is fine, just overwhelmed with school, work, and now a pregnant wife to add into the mix. Poor Hubs...)

Work-wise, I'm scrambling to put together a training presentation for a group of co-workers that I'll be training next week. They are going down to Gatlinburg, TN for their annual retreat and I get to tag along for a couple of days and teach them some stuff that they will have forgotten by the time the drinks and dinner start flowing. One of the major plusses, however, is that it just so happens to be MFN's department's retreat, so I'll get to spend some time hanging with her and a lot of the other awesome people in the group.

Semi-sadly, the retreat has a slight reputation for being a fun-filled booze fest, and Preggy McPregerton here can't partake in any of that, now can she? But that also means less chance of me embarrasing myself infront of 40 co-workers, and more chances of having ammo to hold over other peoples' heads.

Would I do that? Of  course I would. And they would all do the same to me.

The point here is that:

1) life is busy
2) The Hubs is overwhelmed
3) I get to go to Gatlinburg.
4) I can't drink booze.

Love, my lovelies. :)

Fuck off, diabetes.

I now feel "officially" like a high-risk pregnancy. They've decided to put me on insulin, in addition to the Metformin I already take.

3 insulin shots a day, 2 different types of insulin, 1 very freaked out momma-to-be.

It's gonna be a very long 34 more weeks.

No 5k's for me this year...

I'm pregnant! (Oopsie! lol)

We weren't going to start trying until June, but apparently you can't trust Ovulation Predictor Kits. Oh well, I'm totally thrilled and scared to death, and The Hubs is...well...adjusting.

We're due on Christmas Day!

PS - If you're my friend on Facebook, please don't mention anything until after I do - a lot of family and friends are on FB that won't know until after Mother's Day! Thanks!

Found it!

Remember back when I started this blog? Remember when I was gung ho about losing weight? Remember when I actually lost some of it?!

Found it!

Whether it is because of that evil Actos causing my extreme hunger, the fatigue that comes with being fat and/or lazy, or something completely different, who knows? All I know is that I now weigh 263.0 pounds. Which means that since my doctor's visit on 3/1, I have gained more than 10 pounds. In a little over a month.

Ten Pounds.

In a month.

Yep. It deserves to be bolded and italicized. It's beyond ridiculous. While part of me knows that at least some of the weight gain is caused by the medication and therefore (slightly) beyond my control, the rest of me knows that I still make the choice to shove the food in my mouth. I still chose to sit on my ass. So, therefore, I have no one to blame but myself.

However, (da dada daaaaaaaaaaaaaaa) The Eternal Optimist strikes again! I have a few things going in my favor as of late.

1) I am seriously out of time to lose weight before we try to get pregnant, which means NO. MORE. PROCRASTINATING!

2) I am self-medicating. Or, rather, self-un-medicating as the case may be, and declaring war on Actos. (Conspiracy theory rant coming, be warned...)

Here's my thought on the subject: Actos is a drug that helps to control your diabetes by making your cells less insulin resistant. However, one of the widespread side effects of actos is extreme hunger and weight gain. (See above.) Therefore, my hypothesis is that the drug is only produced as a money-making machine (hello, $140/month!) that helps to control the symptoms, but perpetuates the disease. The more weight you gain, the longer - and worse - your diabetes will be, thus needing the prescription for longer/higher doses.

It is not a long-term solution to my diabetes problem, and I see it as a waste of money. With my current insurance plan (if you can call it that), I pay out of pocket for the first $6000 of my health care/prescriptions per year. $6000. Straight from my paycheck to the doctor/pharmacy/pharmaceutical company. I'm not going to pay $140 a month for a prescription that, in effect, forces me to become addicted to it.

So, yeah, suffice it to say that I'm not taking the Actos anymore. End rant.

3) My company started The Biggest Loser competition again! This year, it's in teams, which I find to be a nice method of accountability. Who wants to be known for dragging down their co-workers? Not I, said the fly.

I paid my $25 (more accountability!), and weighed in Friday during our company health screening. (Which, btw, I was forced to do if I didn't want to spend $600 more on my health insurance premiums, but that's another story). My health screening didn't tell me anything I didn't already know: OBESE! DIABETIC! SLIGHTLY PRE-HYPERTENSIVE, BUT REALLY GREAT CHOLESTEROL! At least it didn't get any worse, but it didn't get any better, fo' sho'. Ugh.

Anyway, this morning, I found out who my teammates are - an older (incredibly lovely) lady and a bodybuilder. No shit. This guy who started building muscle last year and just never stopped. And I ask you, why is he doing TBL? Why is he on my team? But, hey, maybe he's exactly what I need. We shall see.

4) My full-circle 5k is coming up! June 6th, I'll run the 5k that started it all - the very first 5k I ever "ran". I completed it in 47:37 last year, and I haven't yet decided what my goal should be this year. Should I make a time goal, or a distance running goal? Either way, I know that I want to finish faster and run more than I did last year. 
__________

And, I guess that's all for now. A rare weight-related post on my weight loss blog, imagine that! Hopefully I'll have more good stuff to report in the future. Stick with me, k? :-)