Everyday I'm Shufflin'...(a long semi-rant)

Saturday was my 31st birthday. I decided long ago (never to walk in anyone's shadow) to do a 5k to celebrate this wonderful occasion. So I picked The Shamrock Shuffle. It turned out to be a HUGE race, with over 5,000 participants.

MFN and I before the race. It was COLD.

This race was so poorly organized, but I didn't really realize how bad it was until later that night. Random things would happen throughout the experience that I would kind of question, but because of the excitement of being there, I just kind of let them go. But now, after the adrenaline is gone, I'm really kind of bummed about a lot of things. 

1) The "festival" area where the before and after block parties were held was A MESS. Everything was tightly packed in a small space, when they had tons of room that they could have spread out into. They were giving away free food both before and after the race, but it was stuff that I would NEVER consider eating at 8 am - Cool Ranch Dorito Tacos from Taco Bell, Chips and Guacamole from Qdoba, Frozen Yogurt from Menchie's Frozen Yogurt (it was like 30 degrees outside!). Re-donk. 

2) The starting line for the races was a short walk away from the festival area, but (this is hard to explain, so I'm going to try my best) the only way to get to the starting line was from one direction. But the direction we were all coming from headed straight for the front of the pack, the front of the starting line. So people didn't realize that they had to keep walking and go to the back of the pack if they were walkers/with strollers/with dogs, etc. They just walked up to the mass of people and stopped, not realizing that they were in the front of the line. The start and first half mile of that race was a complete clusterf***. 

3) My second biggest pet peeve of the whole thing - they had no mile or km markers along the whole race! Who "professionally organizes" a 5k and doesn't put up mile markers?! Natalie and I aren't cool enough to have runner's Garmins or anything like that, so we had to go off of our estimated time. It's a really good thing that I thought to look at my phone as we were crossing the starting line, or we would have had absolutely NO idea about our approximate location on the course. 

4) The finish line signage was backwards! We were moving along and I saw a big thing of signage up ahead of us, but it was facing the other direction, so I thought there was no way we were headed for the finish line. Usually, the word "FINISH" is facing you, and that's how you know. Not with this ass backwards race. The "FINISH" signage was facing the freaking spectators! WTF, dude?

5) They were completely unprepared for the waves of finishers at the line. Nobody was manning the water stations, so people were piling up trying to get water out of big plastic cases. There was nobody directing people to/where to turn in their timing chips. As a result, Natalie and I didn't even realize we still had ours until we were eating breakfast at IHOP later! Now we have to waste time and a stamp to mail them in. 

The backwards finish line. High on thinking we had completed our goal. But did we?

6) And my biggest pet peeve about this stupid race? The organizers posted on their FB page later that evening that the 5k course was actually shorted. Remember back up at number four when I said I thought there was no way we were actually headed for the finish line at that point? I knew something was wrong. I knew the numbers didn't add up. I thought we had to keep going around and head into the finish corral from the front, because it just didn't feel right. And our race time seemed really freaking good for two girls who hadn't trained much at all and who walked the vast majority of the course. Well, la ti da, no wonder our times were so good - instead of doing 3.1 miles, we only did 2.8. They shorted the course by three tenths of a fracking mile! Instead of a birthday 5k, I did a birthday 4.5k. I was robbed. 

And you know, I try to stay positive. At least I got out of bed. At least I paid the $30 entry fee. At least we did it even though it was butt ass cold. At least. But at the same time, there's something about that distance. Something about officially going 3.1 miles, that I feel like we didn't really accomplish our goal. Even though we thought we were doing it at the time, we didn't. It's a bummer. 

But we did have fun. Natalie worked really hard to distract me through the parts where I wanted to die. We gossiped about girls' jiggly butts in their too-tight running pants and tried to figure out which ones were wearing underwear and which ones weren't. At one point, we started singing songs to keep our brains occupied. We would sing until we forgot the words, and then pick up another song. I'm sure the people around us hated us, but I really don't care. We traded sweaty gloves back and forth when our hands got too cold or hot. We plotted our outfits for next year, if we decide we're crazy enough to do this again.

We did have fun, and that's what birthdays are supposed to be about. Not-really-a-5k-5ks and all. 

It's been...

One week since you looked at me,
Cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry...

(Barenaked Ladies, "One Week")

One week since the start of my pre-op diet. One week of emotional ups and downs. One week of good days and not-so-good days. One week and almost 5 pounds.

Start of Pre-Op Diet (10/24): 263.8 lb
One Week In (10/31): 259.2 lb
Loss: 4.6 lb

So I super duper hate the pre-op diet. It sucks. It's not sustainable for me, but then again, I don't guess it was meant to be sustainable anyway. I have had days with "fuck it" moments where I've cheated a bit, (not entire "fuck it" days, mind you) and then days like yesterday, where it was nothing but protein shakes and stick-to-it-iveness. Obviously I need to work on channeling the latter for this last week before surgery.

My goal is to get down to 255 by surgery day, so that's another 5-ish pounds in this last week.  I would appreciate any extra "you can do it" vibes that you've got just laying around. Send them my way, sisters!

As far as THE LIST goes, tomorrow I stop all medications and replace ibuprofen with Tylenol. I still need to get to a drug store to purchase the Hibiclens, but I don't have to start that until Sunday, so there's still a little time there.

In other news...

If the weather isn't too horribly crappy (they're calling for cold and rain, fun!) we're going to take Bubbers to MFN's (My Friend Natalie if you're new 'round these parts) neighborhood to hand out candy. We live in an apartment and haven't gotten one single trick-or-treater in the 5 years we've been here, so I thought it would be fun to go to her house.

The kiddo is not a huge fan of his costume, but I think he's monkeylicious!

"Haven't you always wanted a monkey?!" Oh, BNL...

And also in other news...

Hugs to you if you've been affected by that bitch, Sandy. We have just had some rain and light snow here in Cincinnati/Dayton, so nothing near what has happened in other areas. Hope you're all doing okay if you're in those parts!

Decisions and Confessions

"I've got another confession my friend, I'm no fool
I'm getting tired of starting again, somewhere new..."

("Best of You" by Foo Fighters)


In my case, "somewhere new" tends to be a new decade of poundage. I started this blog in the 260's, worked through the 250's, had a brief stay in the 240's, and now I'm smack dab in the middle of the 270's. I gained back more than double what I lost.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I'm not great at this whole weight loss thing.

A few months ago, I became Facebook friends with a girl I knew in high school named Kristin. Through catching up with her, I found out that she works for the Cincinnati Weight Loss Center and that she had had Lap-Band surgery a few years before.

Now, previously in years gone by, the thought of having Lap-Band surgery was, for me, like the thought of winning the lottery - it would be nice if it happened, but chances were slim to none, so why dwell on it. I just knew it would be too expensive and that my insurance wouldn't cover it, and I didn't know what hoops I would have to jump through to get it. And then, there's always the fact that it's surgery. Permanent. Invasive. And, did I mention, expensive?

As I mentioned before, Kristin had had the surgery and now works for the doctor who performed it. In fact, every person who works in the office has had the surgery, so they know first hand how it works, feels, costs, etc. She and I talked about the fact that I was semi-seriously considering the surgery but that I knew very little about it. She told me about her experience and how much she paid (she was a self-pay patient, and for those of you who might not know, if your insurance does not cover the cost, you can pay for it yourself, using financing options if you need to). She told me about what she eats and how having the surgery has affected her life, and she invited me to come to the office for an informational seminar.

Also during this time, I started doing my own research. I looked for people who blogged about being banded, and it turns out there's an amazing group of B.O.O.B.s who are a wealth of information, support, and humor. But I didn't just take their word for it. I researched the heck out of weight loss surgeries in general. How safe are they? How expensive are they? What complications can arise? What is life after surgery like? What are my options? Can I really do this?

The Hubs (ever the pragmatic one) was mostly concerned about cost. And being the realist that he is, he also wanted to make sure that if we were going to spend the money (it's, of course, not covered by my insurance) that I would actually stick with it and not find ways to 'cheat' the system. Boy, does he know me or what? It's kind of scary.

He agreed to go to the seminar with me, and by the end of it, he said if we had the money, HE would have the surgery ASAP. Of course, if anyone's going to have the surgery, it's going to be me, because we can't afford to both do it.

It's going to be me.

I have made the decision. I'm going to have Lap-Band surgery.

You may not like it, and that's okay. You may not agree with it, and that's okay too. You may be happy for me, and that's excellent. All I know is that I am finally making a decision to do something for myself. And I'm thrilled!

Now, I am in the very early stages of planning here. I've only gone to the seminar and done the research. I haven't had a consultation or worked out the financing or set a date. In fact, I have to wait to do anything until The Hubs finds a steady job, so it might be months before I can actually put my plan into action.

But at least I've got a plan.

There's the decision. Want to know the confession?

I'm scared.

Here are just some of the things I worry about, and also a little bit about how I am overcoming the fear:

~The Cost~

Being a self-pay patient is going to cost me about $14,000. That's a chunk of change. And it's not like we have it stashed under our mattress for just such occasions. We will have to finance and pay interest on it for years to come.  It will mean a car payment's worth of money coming out of our paychecks every month.

However, remaining morbidly obese will cost me well over $14,000 over the course of the rest of my life. And it will not only cost me monetarily, but it will cost me physically. My dad is basically dying of unchecked Diabetes, have I mentioned that lately? That will be me. And me being overweight doesn't just affect me or my quality of life anymore - it affects Bubbers now, too. Being morbidly obese means that I can't play with him the way I want to. I can't do the things I want to do, and being this fat is almost an early death sentence. I want to be around for him. Not experiencing his life to the fullest is a cost that I am not willing to pay.

~The Surgery~

One thing that I didn't know until I did my research is that having the Lap-Band means actually having a port attached to the muscle in your stomach. Permanently. As in, it's always there, and when you get skinny enough, you can sometimes see and feel it. (Gross!) Having that port also means getting a needle stuck in your abdomen for "fills". I guess when I thought about the concept of the Lap-Band, I never realized that it was something that was dynamic, that changed. I just thought you had the surgery, they put a "collar" on your stomach, and you lived your life. Now I know that's not the case. Just because you have the surgery doesn't mean you're done. You have to maintain the band. Get it filled and un-filled. It's not something Ron Popeil created - you can't just "Set it and forget it!"

I have made peace with the fact that there will be a foreign object in my body for the rest of my life. And, it wasn't really that hard to deal with the thought of the needle and fills/unfills because of the insulin shots I had to give myself while pregnant. That was multiple times a day. If I can deal with that, I can deal with a few adjustments a year if I have to.

I have made peace with the fact that it's surgery. I had my gallbladder taken out in early 2008, and the process is similar to that. I had a 10 pound baby delivered by c-section and survived. If I don't have this surgery, there will be other surgeries because of it. My Diabetes, if left unchecked, could mean heart, liver, eye, or foot damage, all of which lead to surgeries. (All of which, except for liver, are surgeries that my dad has had, by the way).

I generally do well under the knife, and although I know that there are always possible complications, I'm not concerned.

~Life After The Band~

What does having the band mean? How will it affect my day to day life? What will I have to change?

This is the big one for me. The money, we can find somewhere. The surgery, I can handle. But life after? That's the scary part. I'm having this surgery because I need someone or something to FORCE me to change my ways. (But that scares the shit out of me!)

How is the Lap-Band going to force me to change? I'll have to temporarily succumb to a liquid diet, and might have to return to it after fills and if I have any issues. I'll have to cut my food into the tiniest of tiny pieces and chew it to a pulp. For evah. I'll have to watch my protein intake and make sure I'm getting vitamins and nutrients. I'll have to quit drinking during my meals (which I'm not entirely convinced I'll be able to do), and most difficult of all for me, I'll have to give up pop (and all carbonated beverages) for good.

My dad works for Coca-Cola. Diet Coke runs through my veins. And I'll have to give it up.

(Now, just so you're fully informed, there is some controversy surrounding this restriction.Some doctors don't say that you can never drink pop, and some do.  The doctor at CWLC says you do, so I will.)

 These are all big, daily, life-altering changes. Scary stuff.

But what would life be like if I didn't have the surgery? If I continue on the course that I've taken for thirty years? Sure, life without the band would be easier in some respects. I could drink what ever I want and eat what ever I want, but then I'm where I always have been. Only worse. Lap Band Gal says "If hunger isn't the problem, then eating isn't the solution."

Being able to eat whatever I want is not going to make my life worth living.

All in all, I have researched, asked questions, thought, debated, cried, and pretty much done everything I can think of to make sure that having this surgery is the right thing for me. And I wholeheartedly believe it is. It's not a quick fix or a simple solution. It takes effort and commitment just like dieting and exercise, but the Lap-Band is there to help.

It's like this: let's pretend that in order for me to reach a healthy weight, I have to swim across the ocean. Diet and Exercise are my arms and legs. They are the tools that I have to get there. Now, I could swim and swim and swim to my heart's content, but there's pretty much no way that I'll make it across the ocean on my own. Then along comes Lap-Band - my life jacket - which makes me just a little more buoyant, and in turn, makes my journey just a little bit easier. Now at least I have a chance.

Lap-Band is going to be my life jacket. I'll swim harder than I ever have before, and it will help me go farther than I ever thought I could.

"Every day I'm shufflin'..."

("Party Rock Anthem" by LMFAO)

I'm sending out the warning right now that this will probably ramble and not make much sense and cover a bunch of random topics. Consider yourselves forewarned.

~Blog~
My lovely blog re-design is thisclose to being finished. PayPal actually pulled through and sent the correct amount of money to Miss Tricia. She sent me a sample yesterday and she's just making a few minor tweaks to the design. I think it will be up and at 'em in the next day or so, and I can't wait! Now, once it's up and purty, all I have to do is force myself to update it on a regular basis. I haven't really updated because I have been absolutely sucktastic on the diet front. Which segues nicely into...

~Diet~
I thought for sure that when I stepped on the scale today it would read 280 pounds or more. How sad is it that I was pleasantly surprised at 275.8? Seriously, girl, get your shit together. I almost weigh what I weighed when I was pregnant. And ten pounds of that weight was actual baby! Two-hundred seventy-six pounds.

It's flicking ridiculous. I never expected to weigh this much in my life. Even when I was at 250, I never thought I'd hit a weight as high as this. And here it is in all it's glory disgustingness. (It's a word. I made it one.)

The BFF, yours truly, and Tonja at Jimmy Buffett Tuesday night.

Do you see that freaking monster truck tire around my midsection?! Wanna know the worst part about that? I'm wearing Spanx. It's being sucked in. For serious.

I have more to say on the whole fatness issue, but I think that's better left for another blog post.

~Job~

I wish I didn't have one. I like my job on most days, but I am feeling lately like it's pointless. The Hubs is in between jobs right now and "gets" to stay at home with Bubbers all day. I can't help but feel like that should be me. Selfishly I want to be the one who doesn't have to get up at 6 am. I want to be the one who doesn't have to deal with office bureaucracies. I want to be the one who could wear sweats all day if I chose to. But most importantly, I want to be the one who gets to spend time with our son. I want to feed him and dress him and take him fun places, and teach him things all day, and watch him play. I want to get to see him for more than 2 waking hours every night. But it's just not in the cards, I guess.

My dream is that The Hubs will land his dream job, making enough money that I can quit mine and be a SAHM. People do it, somehow, they make it work, and they can't all be top executives at big companies making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. I want that to be me!

(Whine over, I promise.)

~Life~

As you can see from the picture above, The BFF, Tonja and I went to see Jimmy Buffett Tuesday night. We try to go every year, but I didn't go last year because I was pregnant and the weather had been pretty bad prior to the show. This year's concert was fun - I took the day after off work so that I could drink and not have to worry about the hour long drive from the concert venue back to my house. (Which is a good thing, because I probably wouldn't have gotten home until 1 am!)

Bubber Man sprouted a third tooth, on the top right side of his mouth. He looks like a jack-o-lantern now, which makes me giggle.

The rest of life is normal. Nothing major going on. I'm sorry for the long and rambling post, but that's what you get sometimes.

How about ending this post with a picture of Bubs to make it up to you?

Keepin' it classy.

If I go crazy, then will you still call me Superman?

(Kryptonite, 3 Doors Down)

Monday weigh in (on Tuesday): 273.6 lbs. Fo shizzle.

Here we go, kiddos. So far today, I've kicked butt.

• I took the 26 (yes, I count them every single time because they're evil) stairs to and from the floor my cubicle is on.
• I had yogurt, a slim fast and 1/2 a can of Diet Coke for breakfast.
• I decided to go to the Chick-fil-A in the Food Court at the mall because it would be more walking than going to the stand alone store.
• I didn't park by the entrance closest to the Food Court.
• I didn't search around and around for the closest parking spot to the door. I found a spot, parked, and walked.
• I passed up an elevator and escalator in order to take the stairs to the 2nd story Food Court. Even though they were closer, faster, and my left foot has been killing me.
• I ordered a fruit cup with my combo instead of those famous waffle fries.
• I had ketchup (if you're one of those people who spells it catsup, I can't be friends with you) with my sandwich instead of what I really wanted to dip it in (Polynesian Sauce high fructose corn syrup)
• I faced, challenged, and defeated my kryptonite:



See that gorgeous, toasty bun of deliciousness at the top? Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye my almost friend.

In the interest of full disclosure, I did eat the bottom portion of the bun. And I stared at the top portion, salivating through my entire meal. I considered eating it. I considered pinching out the middle deliciousness and still calling it a 'win'. I even considered licking it. That is the stronghold that my abusive relationship with food has on me.

But I didn't.

I finally got smart and flipped it over, so that the golden buttery toastiness wasn't taunting me anymore. When that didn't work, I covered it with a napkin. When that didn't work, I threw it away.

Luckily, that worked. It would have been embarrassing to explain to mall officials why a twenty-something girl in business casual attire was dumpster diving at the Food Court.

Unhealthy choices are my kryptonite, but for the moment, I'm Superman.

"Everybody's working for the weekend..."

(Working for the Weekend - Loverboy)


The past six months have brought about a lot of changes. I have a new baby, which y'all know about. But I also have a new job, too.

My return from maternity leave was definitely unpleasant. For one, I was leaving a gorgeous seven-week-old baby, and for two, I was leaving a gorgeous seven-week-old baby to return to a job that I was really unhappy with.

I stayed there because it was good money and easy work. I liked the company, I liked (most of) the people. I really, really disliked my day-to-day tasks, my overall contribution to the company (or lack thereof), and the lack of direction I was receiving. When I came back from maternity leave, I was basically told that I was lucky I had a job to return to, and that I wouldn't be receiving any sort of raise or bonus.

That's not exactly an incentive to stay somewhere you're unhappy with in the first place.

So, in typical Mrs. B's OCD fashion, I obsessed over job searches. Any free time I had was spent on Career Builder, Indeed, Glassdoor.com, and any other job related website I could think of.

My MIL sent me job listings when ever she saw something that might be pertinent, and early on into my search she sent me a link to a training job. I brushed it off because it was located at a business that was farther away (and in the opposite direction) from where I was hoping to work. I searched and searched, and sent in resume after resume. It was definitely slim pickings, so I eventually decided to go ahead and send in my resume for the position my MIL found.

I ended up getting call backs for two places. Two. Out of dozens of applications and resumes.

The first was a training position at a downtown bank. Yay, downtown! Where I used to work, and where The BFF and several friends work, and close to my hometown roots. Boo, downtown traffic, gas costs, and exclusively training the collections department. Ultimately, I interviewed twice for this job, but was not selected. No big loss.

The second was for the job my MIL found. While I was in the process of interviewing for the bank position, I was also going through the process of interviewing for this job. It's a local retail company with 10 brick and mortar stores. They were looking for a corporate trainer with knowledge of Learning Management Systems.

I went through an initial phone screening, an in-person interview with the Director of HR and the COO, a second in-person interview with the Director of HR and the Director of Stores, and a third in-person interview including a powerpoint presentation with all three of those guys. After that, I had two phone interviews with members of the board. And finally, finally,  I was offered the position. When I came in to sign my offer letter, I also had an impromptu meeting with the owner of the company.

After all that, I'm adding "professional hoop jumper" to my resume.

I've been with the company since April. Currently, I'm developing their Learning Management System from scratch, and they recently decided that they wanted to add an intranet, too. It's two, two, two jobs in one! (Shoot me now!)

I love it there, though. They give me the freedom to make decisions, and they have absolutely gone out of their way to make sure I feel comfortable, at home, and have all my questions answered. They are sending me to Florida, Las Vegas, and Dallas this year for some discovery/training opportunities. 

My only regret is that I'm a horrible, no good negotiator. It's my own damn fault that they've gotten me for a steal. But you know what? There's something to say for not getting physically sick to the stomach at the thought of having to go into work the next day. That's for sure.

I'm still 'working for the weekend', but at least I don't mind the weekdays as much.

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.

"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.

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...)

"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...

"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...

I Believe In You

Yes, yes, I'm alive. But I'm not quite ready to resume blogging just yet. In the interim, however, I'd like to share this sweet little ditty that I heard on the radio the other day...

I Believe In You - By Don Williams

I don't believe in superstars,
Organic food and foreign cars.
I don't believe the price of gold;
The certainty of growing old.
That right is right and left is wrong,
That north and south can't get along.
That east is east and west is west.
And being first is always best.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.
And I believe in you.

Well, I don't believe that heaven waits,
For only those who congregate.
I like to think of God as love:
He's down below, He's up above.
He's watching people everywhere.
He knows who does and doesn't care.
And I'm an ordinary man,
Sometimes I wonder who I am.

But I believe in love.
I believe in music.
I believe in magic.
And I believe in you.

Well, I know with all my certainty,
What's going on with you and me,
Is a good thing. It's true,
I believe in you.

I don't believe virginity,
Is as common as it used to be.
In working days and sleeping nights,
That black is black and white is white.
That Superman and Robin Hood,
Are still alive in Hollywood.
That gasoline's in short supply,
The rising cost of getting by.

But I believe in love.
I believe in old folks.
I believe in children.
I believe in you.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.

And I believe in you.

"Ahh, ooh, push it..."

...p-push it real good!" ("Push It" by Salt n Pepa).

In May, I had a t5k best time of 52:39.
Monday, I broke that record with a time of 52:11.
Tonight, I shattered that record with a time of 51:20.

And damn, does it feel good.

I was sabotaged by a dead man.

I had every intention (okay, almost every intention) of doing another t5k last night. Monday's went well...1:30 run/3:30 walk at an 0.5% incline, which left me with my fastest treadmill time to date: 52:11. For some reason, I can't seem to get under 52:00 on that darn thing. Anyway, it went well, and I was able to keep it up for the whole duration of the 5k, so that's a good sign of things to come.

And as I said, I had almost every intention of doing it again last night. But then...I was flipping through the channels on the TV and came across the Michael Jackson memorial service on BET. I ask you this: how's a girl supposed to get up and run/walk 5k while she's crying her eyes out?! Not that I'm a crazy MJ fan who is devastated by his death, but pretty much any death is sad. And then to see his family and how much grief they are feeling, and then you add in music? There was no chance. Brooke Shields' speech? Marlon (I think) singing "Smile"? Paris saying that her daddy was "the best daddy in the whole world"? While I might raise an eyebrow at that, you can't deny that three children just lost the only person they've ever known as their dad.

If that doesn't bring you to tears, I don't know what will.

Anyway, I plan on staying as far away as possible from any more coverage of the memorial. If for no other reasons than (1) my heart can't take it. I'm already an emotionally unstable mess with The Hubs being gone all the time, and (2) I really, really want to get back on that treadmill and (I absolutely hate this saying) git 'er done this week.



MJ, it didn't matter if you were Black or White. You took it in stride when the world was against you and said that you were Bad. They may have told you to Beat It, but you proved to them that you weren't a Smooth Criminal. You weren't a criminal at all.

You made the whole world want to Rock With You (all night), and I don't mind saying that You Rock My World with your music. Billie Jean may not have been your lover, but there were millions of other women in the world that wished they were. I will always Remember The Time you did the moonwalk at the 25th Anniversary Motown show, and I'll never lose The Way You Make Me Feel when I listen to your music. It's always a Thriller of an experience.

I hope that now, when you look at the Man in The Mirror, you see that You Are Not Alone. We Are The World, and we will always remember you.

P.S. Your daughter is such a P.Y.T.! What a cutie!

Rest In Peace.

"Motivate me..."

"...I wanna get myself out of this bed,
Captivate me,
I want good thoughts inside of my head,
If I fall down, would you come around,
and pick me right up off the ground?"
("Motivation Proclamation" by Good Charlotte).

249.4

That pound I lost? Found it! God, why are they so easy to find?! Even with running a 5k this weekend (update later) I gained weight. Bah.

So let's talk motivation.

Somebody around here told the karma gods that I thought that 5k was going to be easy...and when I find out who it was, you're going to be in "big trouble, mister"! That 5k? Was so. not. easy. It probably could have been, had I been training. It's a simple case of cause and effect. And when you boil it down, the whole weight loss thing is a simple case of cause and effect, too.

Cause: I didn't train before my most recent 5k.
Effect: I pretty much felt like I was going to die and only, somehow magically, beat my previous time by 18 seconds. 18 seconds.

Cause: I eat crap and don't work out.
Effect: I weigh 249.4 pounds and have two chins and a bowl full of jelly.

So, my motivation consists of many things. Currently, though, my motivation is the fact that the last 5k totally, 100%, kicked my ass. I was miserable. I considered quitting. Like, seriously, considered turning around and going back. After less than a mile. It shouldn't be that hard. Especially when I've already done it once, and had another month to get in better shape for it.

My motivation is that I know I have to put myself through this hell three more times. And I know that I have the power to make it easier on myself. I can make it so that it's not such a horrible experience. It's going to suck, yes. But it doesn't have to suck that much.

Strangely, after the first 5k, I didn't want to get back on the treadmill. I was sore, and felt like I had accomplished a feat, so I deserved a break. That damn break quickly turned into a downward spiral into old habits. For me, that's probably the hardest part about this whole damn thing...I can never quit. I have to keep going. I have to make it to every single workout. And for the rest of my friggen' life. UUUUUUUUUUGH!

I can't think about that.

What I'm focusing on is this: after this 5k, I now feel much more desire to get my butt back on that treadmill, and back to t5ks and c25k, just so that in one month's time, I'm not wishing I could lay down in front of the leaders of the pack and get trampled - put out of my misery. Right now, it's not even so much about losing weight, as it is about getting my running back on schedule. (The plus side is that one leads to the other...)

I gotta Forrest Gump my ass into that next 5k. I want to finish in less than 46:00. I want to make progress that you can actually call progress. I don't want to feel like I'd rather drop dead than go out there and do it again.

And it's all within my power to do so. I just have to do it.

In other news:

The Hubs started 3rd shift last night. I saw him for about 10 minutes as I was getting ready this morning. The next time I'll get any extended quality time with him will be Friday night. Fun times.

And I think that's about it.

I hope you all are doing better on your journey than I am!

Running Down a Dream: Songs to run to

I've made my playlist for Saturday's 5k. I try to stick to music that is not only very upbeat, but that will keep me distracted interested throughout the duration. For this playlist, I also chose quite a few songs that are old favorites that I may not have heard for a while.

1. Proud - Heather Small (a.k.a. The Biggest Loser theme song)
2. I Know You Want Me - Pitbull
3. Buch Dich - Rammstein
4. Cupid Shuffle - Cupid
5. See You Again - Miley Cyrus
6. Crazy Bitch - Buck Cherry
7. Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
8. Boom Boom Pow - Black Eyed Peas
9. Pussy Control - Prince (haven't heard it in forever and it's got a great beat. Don't judge.)
10. Let The Bodies Hit The Floor - Drowning Pool
11. Ladies' Night - Kool & The Gang
12. Gasoline - Kicking Harold (the song they play at the end of every Overhaulin' episode)
13. Push It - Salt 'n Pepa
14. Shut Up and Let Me Go - The Ting Tings

Let's get this show on the road!

"Won't you come and save me? Save me."

("Man in a Box" by Alice in Chains).

*Warning* Please expect randomness. It's Monday morning, the weekend was ridiculous, and I don't quite have all of my faculties. The end.

248.4

That right there is a 1.2 pound loss for last week, and I'll take it! I only ended up doing t5k's twice, and managed to eat out for lunch every day last week. I half expected to gain that much, so losing it was a pleasant surprise. These 40's are kicking my butt, but I can't exactly complain since it's my fault I haven't been working out as much as I was in the 50's. The whole weight loss thing is pretty simple, really. Eat better, move more. When you don't do those things, you're either stagnant or, worse, growing.

Eat better, move more. Eat better, move more. Eat better, move more. Rinse and repeat.

I only have 5 more days until my second 5k! I'm not sure if The BFF has signed up for it yet, but I've been hounding her to...I hope she does! Before my last 5k (how cool is it that I can start a sentence like that?!?!?) I did t5ks every night except for Friday, and it seemed to work out okay. I think I'll stick with that plan, and we'll see how it goes.

I'm picking up my race packet on Friday and driving the course. Randomly, the residential section goes down the street of one of my friends at work, so she said she's going to make me a little poster to cheer me on. (She said there's NO WAY she's going to be up at 8:30 to do it in person, and with 6 kids, I don't really blame her).

My goals for this 5k are simple: (1) finish faster than my last time of 47:37, (2) get to the 2nd mile marker in under 29 minutes, and (3) keep up a running schedule.

Last time, my 2-mile time was 30:07. My average time for the course was 15:22/mile. My goal is to stay in the 14's for the whole thing. If I finished each mile in 14:59, my final time would be 46:27, shaving a little over a minute off my time. 14:30 would have me finishing in 44:57 - 2.5 minutes less! I know that while I'm here, comfortably sitting on my ass at work, shaving 30 seconds off my time per mile seems super easy...Saturday, it's going to be a completely different story.

As for keeping a running schedule, right now the plan is to run 2.5 minutes, walk 2.5 minutes for as long as I can. When that gets hard, I will run 2 minutes, walk 3. When that gets hard, because I'm sure it will, I want to make sure I'm running at least 1.5 minutes of every 5. I know that I slacked with the running in the 3rd mile last time, so hopefully even if I'm running less in the beginning this time, it will average out to a faster time in the end.

I can't believe I'm less than a week away from running my second 5k. I won't lie...I'm pretty proud.

Goals for this week include:

1. Taking all meds. I did pretty awesome last week! Rock on.
2. T5k M, T, W, Th at at least a 0.5% incline.
3. Watch calories.
4. Get to 246 at next weigh-in.
5. Rock out at my second 5k.

Easy enough, right? Right.

On to other things: my weekend.

Friday:
Went with MFN and The BFF to Cheeseburger in Paradise. Horrible service, as we have found places with 'ambiance' to be consistant in that area - *ahem* Cadillac Ranch *ahem*. They're also horrible with nutrition information. They don't post any on their website, and don't make it available to you if you inquire. Yeah, there was pretty much no hope. On the plus side, afterwards we went to MFN's house and worked off a gazillion calories playing Rock Band. Well, at least I'm going to pretend I worked off a gazillion calories, as I had to sing the whole time. Hey, there was clapping involved.

Saturday:
The Hubs and I had Mongolian Grill (yes, again) for lunch. I snuck some carrots, broccoli, and sprouts in there, thankyouverymuch. Then we saw a Transformers 2 matinee. The Hubs and I both really enjoyed it, no matter what the critics may say. I'm sure we'll be buying it when it comes out on DVD. Mrs. B. Movie Grade: A-.

Sunday:
I'll spare you the long, dramatic details, but my 11 year old niece is in a Christian Children's Home about 3.5 hours north of where I live. Crammed in a backseat with my two "little" brothers, I rode up to see her with my Step-dad and Mom. The trip up was not fun, and then when we finally got there to visit, we were told that she had been taken with the rest of the kids to a baseball game about an hour away. If we wanted to, they would have brought all the kids back early from their trip, but of course we said no. My mom was really heartbroken because she hasn't spoken to her or seen her in about a month, and we were really looking forward to it. So now, we have to take another long trip up there sometime soon, in the hopes that we'll get to see her. Ugh.

And that brings us back to the present. Another day at work, another day on a diet, another day of life.

Which is totally better than the alternative.
In memoriam:
Ed McMahon
Farrah Fawcett
Michael Jackson
Billy Mays (yes, Billy Mays. He was annoying, but iconic).

"100 ways is what it takes to feed her craving..."

("100 Ways" by JC Chasez).

Well, looky here. This little blog made it to 100 posts. Now, I'm not going to go getting all sentimental on you, don't worry. (I probably couldn't take it right now, anyway!) What I am going to do, is this:

In honor of my 100th blog post, here are 100 reasons why I'm doing this. They range from medical reasons, to incredibly selfish reasons, to totally superficial ones. Dont' judge. And you know what? It really wasn't hard at all to come up with 100. I'm sure I could have kept going. And by now, you all should know my OCD tendencies, so it shouldn't surprise you in the least that I organized them into categories. You're welcome. :)

100 Reasons Why Mrs. B. Is Kicking Her Own Ass:

Health:

1. To control my diabetes
2. To not have a "high-risk" pregnancy
3. To live a long life
4. To be healthy
5. To not be considered "Morbidly Obese", "Obese", or "Overweight" anymore
6. To not die of Diabetes like my father is
7. To not sweat as much
8. To quit being depressed
9. To fix my back problems
10. To be more flexible
11. To have more energy
12. To have more stamina
13. To be stronger
14. To not die

Pregnancy/Children:

15. To get pregnant
16. To be a beautiful pregant woman
17. To be a good example for my children
18. To have active children
19. To give them the mom they deserve
20. To keep up with my kids

Marriage/The Hubs:

21. To keep my marriage active
22. To be a good example for my husband
23. To feel as sexy as The Hubs says I am
24. To sit on The Hubs' lap
25. To be picked up and spun by The Hubs
26. To have better sex
27. To fully enjoy my marriage
28. To make my husband proud to have me for a wife

Clothing/Shopping:

29. To look more professional
30. To buy cuter and less expensive clothes
31. To have cuter and less expensive bathing suit choices
32. To be less self-conscious in a bathing suit
33. To more comfortably wear high heels
34. To fit into the pants I've been too fat for for 8 years
35. To enjoy shopping for clothes
36. To have cuter work out clothes
37. To have cuter work clothes
38. To wear shorts again
39. To wear skirts again
40. To wear sleeveless tops
41. To not have to wear shapewear anymore
42. To be able to throw something on and love it
43. To buy cuter/cheaper lingerie
44. To have more choices

Body Image:

45. To get rid of the tires around my waist
46. To see my belly button again
47. To have smaller thighs
48. To feel pretty
49. To look on the outside like I feel on the inside
50. To see a "1" as the first number of my weight for the first time since high school

Hinderances:

51. To be able to paint my toenails easier
52. To be able to take and enjoy baths
53. To ride The Beast and other roller coasters again
54. To sit "indian style" in car seats on long trips
55. To fit more comfortably in airplane seats
56. To more easily bend over in the car to get things off the floor
57. To have more room in bed
58. To fit better in office chairs
59. To un-self-consciously ride a motorcycle with The Hubs
60. To not be hindered or held back by my size anymore
61. To have more opportunities
62. To try new things
63. To actively live my life instead of letting it pass by
64. To be more comfortable
65. To do things that being overweight has kept me from - i.e. repelling, horseback riding, etc.
66. To participate more during office annual meeting adventures
67. To be better at Yoga
68. To run a mile without stopping
69. To run a 5k without stopping
70. To be more active

The Superficial:

71. To have people notice
72. To get positive attention
73. To not be the "fat friend"
74. To go places and feel cute instead of wishing I was as cute as the other girls
75. To see what it's like to be skinny
76. To make certain people jealous
77. To take better pictures
78. To impress people at my 10-year high school reunion
79. To inspire other people
80. To fit in
81. To not have my eating habits constantly critiqued by strangers
82. To not have to feel guilty for eating
83. To be more confident
84. To not have to be the "funny one"
85. To not feel judged
86. To be able to just be myself

The Existential:

87. To finish something I start
88. To make my family proud
89. To have something to be proud of
90. To find out who I am
91. To conquer something
92. To not wonder "what if"
93. To prove I can
94. To finally make a change
95. To not waste more time
96. To get it over with
97. To stop the cycle
98. To live life easier
99. To enjoy life more
100. To live a better life

And there you have it...my motivation, in a list.

"And I've made up my mind, I ain't waistin' no more time. Here I go again..."

("Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake).

Yesterday I made a deal with The Devil my husband.

Seeing as how I've been a total bum with the whole diet and exercise thing, and also seeing as how I'm completely, hopelessly, 100% obsessed with getting pregnant, I decided to take matters into my own hands. And it went something like this:

Mrs. B.: Honey, I've decided something.
Mr. B.: (looks scared) You have? What?
Mrs. B.: When I get to 195 pounds, we're having a baby.
Mr. B.: (turning pale and pastey) We are?! How about 175 pounds?
Mrs. B.: No! I'll be happy under 200, so 195.
Mr. B.: Where are you now?
Mrs. B.: Right around 250.
Mr. B.: (calculating in his head) How about 190?
Mrs. B.: Seriously?! What's the difference between 195 and 190?!
Mr. B.: ....190?
Mrs. B.: Fine. When I get to 190 pounds, we're going to get me pregnant. Deal?
Mr. B.: Uhhhhhh....ehhhhhh.....weeeell....
(Mrs. B. gives Mr. B. "the look")
Mr. B.: Okay...deal.

And then, partly in the interest of full-disclosure, and partly because I'm an evil wife who sometimes might just get a tiny bit of enjoyment out of seeing her husband break out into an instant sweat, I added this little bit:

"You know, honey, if I really kick it into gear, I could be at 190 by the end of this year..."

...and I swear to you, I think his heart just might have stopped beating for a second. He recovered, though, and now I'm back in the game. I've got new purpose, and I'm ready to go. You know, sometimes I think you just have to procrastinate on something so much until you just can't possibly take it anymore, to really kick it into gear and make a difference. Table for one?! Because that's pretty much where I am.

My weigh-in this morning said 249.6. Today's the day that I start working on my "baby wait". I'm pretty darn excited!

My goals for this week are:

1. Take all meds daily.
2. Test blood sugar twice daily.
3. Stay under 1,600 calories daily.
4. C25k Week 3 Mon, Weds, Fri at 1% incline.
5. T5k Tues, Thurs, Sat at 1% incline.

Here I go again...

And in other news...(I think I missed my calling as a news anchor, don't you?)

The Hubs and I took The In-Laws to Bd's Mongolian Grill on Friday. I was seriously concerned about this, seeing as I'm one of the pickiest eaters on the planet. I barely eat "Chinese" food, sticking mainly to Sweet & Sour Chicken and fortune cookies. But, seriously, it was so good! The place was absolutely packed so I did feel a little rushed. I didn't get time to sample as many sauces as I would have liked, but in the end I was not at all disappointed by my choices. Next time, I'll add more veggies, since using a small amount of sauce is a great way to 'hide' them in the dish. The website has a handy dandy tool where you can create a bowl and it will automatically calculate your nutrition facts for you.

I talked MFN into going there for lunch today. Yay veggies! (Wait... what's that I hear? The flapping of tiny pig wings? The crackling of icicles in Hades? Did she just say, "yay veggies!"? I think she did!) Yep. "Yay veggies..." I'm not the person I used to be. And that's a totally awesome thing.

Saturday, I grocery shopped. I also just happened to cook the most awesomest meal I've ever cooked in the history of my wifedom. I made steak, corn on the cob, and baked potatoes, and didn't ruin anything! (Where's The MIL when I need her?!) It was so freaking good! I mean, yes, I understand that there isn't much skill in boiling corn or in putting a potato in the oven, but the steaks were awesome! My George Foreman grill is officially my favorite kitchen gadget. (After the Kitchen Aid mixer, of course!)

Sunday, we hung out at my Step-Grandparents' house for Father's Day, and then lounged around the apartment for some quality spouse time. The Hubs starts his first full week of the quarter this week, and now we've got to find him a new job as well. Needless to say, he's a busy guy. He's a busy guy who's going to have a pregnant wife to deal with as soon as I get my ass in gear.

:-)