Logic, Frustration, and How the Hell??

Weight loss is not an overnight thing. I understand that. However, I have zero patience with myself. So logic and frustration are ever at odds. It's been bad this week. I'm trying to do what I can within the limits of my financial and lifestyle situation, so progress is being made. I just can't always see it. I get that. I was told last week that I've got to stop being so mean to myself about it. But it's difficult to be kind to one's self when it my mind and expectations operate like an AP Calculus class and my body seems to be stuck in remedial basic math. I'm just very tired of being discouraged.

Now here's the rest of what I didn't put on Facebook. I've been trying my ass off given the fact that I've been working 9:00pm to 5:30 am or more since Monday. I'm helping remodel a store. An Ulta. So not a little guy. I've been carrying shelves made out of heavy glass or awkward and heavy plastic. I've been doing 8 hours of squating, lifting, pulling, pushing, twisting around, and on my feet. Monday I actually went to the gym for a Zumba class before heading in, so I got a little cardio in. I can't remember what my feet or thighs feel like when they don't hurt.

Now diet. I knew I would be taking lunch break in the middle of the night in Plano...which means that NOTHING is open. And I'm really, actively not wanting fast food at the moment, so I stocked up on those Healthy Choice frozen dinners. I know, I know, I know. Sodium. But they were the best I could do given circumstances. I've had maybe two stops at fast food places this week. I discovered the joys of unsweetened flavored tea. I'm especially obsessed with this Lipton Dragonfruit, Acai, Melon one. So I've been drinking it non-stop. Lots of water while I'm working. I have had a soda here and there, but not the three a day habit I used to have by any means.

And I'm back to 209. I was down to 204 on Sunday.. How in the sweet loving HELL did that happen?? My measurements are the biggest they've ever been. (Although to be honest. I haven't measured myself since June before it got really bad). I realize it's a bad week for water retention, but I can't even wrap my head around the fact that since Sunday I've gained 5 pounds.

And in other news my brother lost 22 pounds in a month. Super happy for him. But at the same time it makes me feel completely lacking and worthless in what I'm working at.

I don't get it. I am genuinely disheartened, disappointed, and confused by all of this. I'm about to just sit down and cry.

The Mean Reds of Working Out

I'm in them. For sure. The Mean Reds. For those of you not familiar with the phrase, it's not all the dirty/disgusting things running through your head. It's a Breakfast at Tiffany's reference. The mean reds are worse than the blues.

I went to my Monday morning Zumba class, like I've been doing for a few weeks now (which in and of itself is an achievement for me). I couldn't keep up, which is normal. I looked like the dumb white girl who can't dance, which is normal. But for some reason today it got to me. The last five minutes of class it was all I could do not to burst into tears. I don't know if the instructor sensed it or was just in a silly mood, but she broke out into The Sprinkler during our cool down. Laughing, I made it through the end of class.

However, as I was walking out of the gym this giant weight of discouragement settled over me. This is why I quit. I look at the road ahead. Very seldom do I take a look behind me. But even the road behind isn't so great when I stop and think about it.

I got in the car just sat there for a minute thinking about who to call and ask what to do next. I'm always starving, and thought maybe a protein shake/smoothie/something would be a better idea than grabbing an egg mcmuffin from the drive thru. But what do I know? Then I realized I'd left my phone at home and was on my own. I turned the radio on and the first lyrics I heard were, "And so I tell myself that I'll be strong..." Ellie Goulding. Good song. It's a popular one that's always on, so I didn't think anything of it.

There's a smoothie joint that's just down the shopping center from the gym, so I scooted on down. I walked in, told the counter boy that I didn't know anything about any of this and that he was going to have to talk to me like a kindergartener. Yep. I was THAT cliche today. The girl that walks into a department store and goes, "I need some clothes." "What kind?" "Oh, I don't know. Whatever you think." Congratulations, Shanna on becoming the consumer you hate.

Feeling even lower than before I got back in the car and turned the radio on again. "Fighter." The new one, not the old Christina Aguilera version. Again, a popular song about to get overplayed, but poignant to my situation. Okay, now You have my attention. The next song was an older one in the same vein. I don't know what you believe, frankly I don't care, but I believe in God. I talk to Him all the time. He talks back...through the radio. He knows His child, and that's about the only way I listen. So it would seem that even He is rooting for me to suck it up and keep going.

Perseverance. That doesn't look like the right spelling even though there aren't any wiggly red lines under it, oh well. That is my goal for the week. Even though I feel like the lowest of the low right now.

Dominos

So I lost three pounds last week. Which would be well and good and all if I hadn't jumped up to 210 on the scale before that. I've been bad lately. Not in a tee hee naughty behind closed doors kind of way. Like in a not sleeping, eating too much to stay awake, drinking too much, not exercising enough kind of way.

There are rational explanations for all of this. I had a few back to back sewing projects to where I was working at least 18 hours a day. Because I was up longer, I was eating more and more carbs and starches to keep me up with sugar rushes. Then I also had a play I was working on...which means hanging out with actors (which I am as well). There was a saying I stumbled across in college that I thought summed things up well: The drinking department has a theatre problem. After weeks of being cooped up working all hours by myself I wanted nothing more than to get out and socialize. Which involves food. Which involves alcohol. At late hours that you have no chance of burning off all that you've consumed. Sleep became higher priority than working out. Then job searches became the priority. Then going out of town. You get the drift? Excuses, excuses, excuses.

Well, as I suspected, just a lifestyle change helped immensely. Going to bed and getting good, restful sleep. Cutting back on the fast food. Cutting out the sodas and back on the alcohol. Cutting out the entire extra meal I was eating most days. Working cardio back in. Three pounds in a week.

I managed to find a time at the pool the other day when there weren't a bunch of screaming children (although I did have to glare at a creepy maintenance guy who thought he'd catch a free show) to get in some laps. Even got tan lines from that!

I landed a job for the next little bit helping open a store and spent all day hauling and unpacking boxes.

I'm actually looking forward to the changes in my life that are kick starting this process again. I'm tired of starting over, so it's time to stop quitting. Regardless of how crazy things get. I've got to find the me time in all of it, and make it a priority. Good talk. Now go to bed!

Bad Voices

You know the ones I'm talking about. The ugly little voices in your head that tell you that you aren't capable of something. I beat one today. I woke up at 6:00 this morning and had a devil of a time falling back asleep. Consequently, when 8:00 rolled around I was less than enthusiastic to jump out of bed and rush to my Zumba class. Snooze button came and went a few times while that little voice kept telling me, "No. You shouldn't bother anyway. You're tired. You suck at the moves anyway. You already feel gross, so why add a layer or two of sweat to that? Just sleep in and you can do something else later." It worked until about 8:45. I was ten minutes late to class. But I went. And I sucked at the moves. And I was drenched in sweat by the time I was done. But I went. The goal for this week is to ignore that stupid damn voice. Cheers.

Backslider

And not the Toadies song unfortunately. I believe I can trace this backslide to one particular establishment: Panda Express. I discovered Panda Express by accident when I turned into the wrong drive thru. Someone pulled in behind me, and the rest is history. They aren't even that good. I always get the same thing, and it's so sub-par it's ridiculous, but I can't stop eating it! That is until yesterday when I realized that the Orange Chicken Bowl has over 900 calories in it. ZOINKS, SCOOB! Granted, I've never managed to polish off the whole thing, but yikes!

They have a kids option that is much more in line with what a normal adult meal should have caloriewise, so I guess I shall be ordering that the next time I get a craving.

I would love to be able to just go off the fast food altogether. Seems like it should be easy. But there's that whole timing issue again, and I am a disaster at time management.

Anyway, it's a rainy day in the big D and I have logged a mini workout yesterday and a cardio session with my Yoga Booty Ballet DVD this morning. That said, I forsee some Special K in my future and a shower before the power goes out again.

Stay dry, kids!

Update on Lefty:

I. Can't. Move.

I'm a Lefty on the Pole!

It's my first attempt at a Vlog. I know you'll excuse any missteps...because you're awesome like that.

Bass-Ackwards Much??

I just returned home from the grocery store. Not Walmart. Not some designer grocery mart. Just your plain old Tom Thumb. I made sure that I picked items that were seemingly healthier for me. Lots of whole grains, lots of reduced or no fats, lots of fruits and veggies. And just as I suspected, my grocery bill more than doubled.

What is it with this country? It costs a fortune to eat nutritiously. I remember watching a documentary on how the food processing companies in this country are basically Big Brother from 1984. What stuck with me most was an interview with this woman who told the camera that she could take her money she'd budgeted for food to the grocery store and buy good, wholesome food for herself only, or she could take that same budget to McDonald's and feed her family for a week.

That horrifies me! Because it's true.

A friend of mine recently came back from Quebec (Eh, I know. What's that aboot?) And he said that it is the other way around up there. Junk food costs a fortune, and fruits and veggies are dirt cheap. A package of M&M's and a 6-pack of Coke are going to run you between $10-15. Or you can get a salad, some fruit and cheese, and still have change rattling in your pocket. Granted they have to import our junk food, which accounts for some of the price hike, but I'm also willing to concede that Canada has more concern for their people and the diet of the everyday man than our country does.

I'm super excited and proud of myself for making what I think (because seriously, let's be honest I'm that consumer that doesn't know jack) are better choices for myself. But I'll have a better hold on the counter next time, if you know what I mean.

Two Left Feet and They're On Backwards

Yesterday I had my first Zumba class. I had heard all sorts of great things about this dance aerobic class, and have wanted to try it out for a while now. Well, I suddenly find myself self-employed with some time on my hands. I promptly ran out of excuses for why there were dishes in my sink and why I wasn't hitting up the gym. The dishes are still in my sink because I'd rather do cardio than dishes.

And the strangest thing happened...I loved it! Several people I know are of the opinion that if you're going to work out it has to be hard and boring and suck. I have never ascribed to this theory, and despite the fact that I'm a white girl to the bone, I love to dance. I miss going out to the O.P. on Friday nights and dancing until the D.J. or the stupid girls with their giant purses on the dance floor pissed me off. It was great cardio. Especially because in El Paso they'd mix in some salsa and reggaeton. So this was like heaven! Well minus my gay husband doing the shopping cart, and lemme tell ya that boy knows how to push a fake basket in a club.

But it was so much fun. I'm sore all over. Even my elbows hurt...!? I went back for another class today. I think I may be hooked. I was very sad when the instructor told me that I should only do three classes a week. I mean it's only Tuesday, well Wednesday by the time I get this posted.

Either way, I found a class that appeals to me and am super excited to keep with it. Aaaaand while we're on good notes, I've lost an inch off my waist. No significant change anywhere else, but my waist is now 31 1/2". Sa-weet!

Ripples in the Pond...

And no, that's not a euphemism for what happens to the cellulite on my thighs as I walk. I'm talking about how one change can branch out to affect one's entire being.

Something that seemed huge, but in hindsight shouldn't have been as important as I let it be, has been removed from my life. In this particular case it was a member of the male species. Ladies, we beat it into our heads when we're single, but somehow forget it when we manage to snag the attention of a pretty boy in the hopes of keeping his attention. Our self-worth should not be tied to someone else's opinions. Especially if they are ridiculous. Especially when you finally confront them over the fact that they don't want anything to do with you because you're not a size four blonde, the only thing they can say in response to the confrontation is, "Blonde has nothing to do with it."

Let me back up a little here. I lived in El Paso for three years. I enjoyed three years of amazing self-esteem because the boys down there liked their girls a little thicker. I loved my curves. I loved the attention they got on the dance floor and even walking down the hall at school. And I let all of that go by the wayside in one bathroom conversation in a piano bar.

Suddenly I felt like crap because there are two numbers on my jeans size. I suddenly felt compelled to get rid of what was considered unsightly. Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I crumbled and limped off like a kicked puppy to do this shallow boy's bidding...I was pissed. Royally. I formulated plots to get even, I even contemplated buying him a Barbie doll with all sorts of tacky things like "Self-Esteem Sold Separately" and "Comes With Daddy Issues and Eating Disorder" written on the box. One thing I wasn't going to do was let his piss poor opinion of my appearance affect my self-perception.

But that's exactly what I did.

Well, after four margaritas a couple of weeks ago I had the conversation with him that I should have had six months ago. And after I cried my eyes out and swam a couple of laps in the self-pity pool, something amazing happened. Almost overnight all my body image issues disappeared. I like my curves again. I still want them slimmed down a bit, but there's no rush. Whereas before I was frustrated by a lack of progress, I'm much more inclined lately to accept the small victories. I see the six pounds I lost when I stopped drinking sodas as a pretty good step. I see actively wanting water and good food as points on the scoreboard. I feel better about myself, even though nothing has really changed.

And now, truly, anything I do is for me.

Baby Steps

Baby steps to the car. Baby steps to the grocery store. Baby steps past the cheddar cheese.

My wonderful and talented sister-in-law decided she was tired of me eating junk food and writing about it. Her actual text went a little something like "For the love of God don't let me read the words "fast food" on that blog next week!" And invited me along for a grocery shopping adventure.

Now, like I told her, it was not a matter of mmm, I can't wait to scarf me down some grease and potatoes. I would seriously be looking at the menu and be thinking "Bleh. Really? Is there any way I can order half a hamburger, hold the heart attack?" I really do prefer good food. I actually get a craving for veggies.

My schedule, however, is more conducive to chicken strips and tater tots. My day is literally jam packed. When I get home, all I want to do is crash.

However, I've been pretty good this week about actually hauling my butt out of bed early and making breakfast...that is when a blackout doesn't take out my damn alarm clock. I've been making lunch for the next day at 11:00 at night because it's the ONLY available time.

But I gotta say, it's working. I haven't looked at the numbers, but I certainly feel better about myself. Part of that could be that I found my self-respect again on a whole different playing field. (It wasn't in the pocket of an old pair of pants like I previously thought. It was at the bottom of my fourth margarita!) But that's another story.

There is a table of danger at work. On this table are all sorts of candies and carbs practically taunting me all day long. (Seriously, the designer came in, saw the junk food, had a conniption fit wherein he prayed to the god of the cabbage patch, and promptly had his assistant go out for a veggie tray.) But I've been choosing the healthier options. I actually walked into the break room with the intention of grabbing a Diet Coke and went, "Ooooo bottled water! I'd rather have that!"

I call that a break through.

I Needed That

So, I started work as an overhire stitcher at the Wyly today. God, I needed to be back in a costume shop. It felt so good to be back up on my feet or hunched over a needle and thread instead of a computer. My hands are so sore from all the hand sewing today, but it feels amazing to use those muscles again

*Note to self: Painkiller before bed because you KNOW shin splints are forthcoming!*

Not only was I up off my butt a good portion of today, I also wandered all over the Arts District looking for where the hell I was going and hunting down lunch. I actually feel good about the amount of running around I did today...the blisters on my pinky toes would beg to differ, but who asked them anyway?

Ate:

Fast food all three meals. I really need to go grocery shopping, and it's on the list. However, every breakfast that I've had lately from a drive thru has been absolutely revolting. I don't even want it anymore. I just need to stop hitting the damn snooze button and make breakfast!

I actually intended to do something halfway decent for dinner, but got called in to rehearsal and had to book it back downtown.

Workout:
Wandered aimlessly for a bit downtown, and then wandered with aim.

The Numbers:

I hate them. They suck. But here they are. You can't face the music about shedding some poundage if you don't face the numbers. So here we go:

Weight: 193
Height: 5'7" (I don't really expect this one to change very much.)

Giant wake up call. According to a couple of different BMI calculators (and yes, I checked a few because I didn't want to believe the first one) this puts my BMI at 30.2. That's Class 1 Obesity.

Fuck.

Bust: 40"
Waist: 32 1/2"
Hips: 48"

I entered all these plus a few other numbers into a handy dandy calculator and came up with 27.33% body fat. That's over a quarter of me. Ick. I'm still in the acceptable range for my height and weight, but it's definitely not the lower end of the range.

But if you put those numbers into a hip to waist ratio measurement, I'm healthy as a horse and at really low risk for disease.

See this is why I had such a hard time getting started. I ignored the numbers and went based on look and size. I still wear the same size jeans I wore in high school. I don't look much different. I don't gain weight around my face, and I gain it proportionately. And a bit of that weight is muscle. So it's hard to pin down an actual problem...until it's in numerical form.

I'm attaching a really unflattering picture of myself  along with a really good one so you see what I mean.

Now, even in this one, I'm sucking my tummy in, angled to be slightly more flattering and have my arm held away from my body so it doesn't squish out and look bigger. ALL THAT WORK! It's ridiculous.

Now here's one, that to my knowledge hasn't been shopped:

And I don't think I look half bad. The arms are a little chunky and the cut of the dress hides a multitude of sins.

I need to stop dressing to hide the problem and actually address the damn problem.

Part of the Problem:

I think part of the problem I have with the word "voluptuous" is how remarkably often people mispronounce the shit out of it! The word is "VOLUPTUOUS." I think the "p" sound has much to do with my distaste for the word, but it drives me bat-shit up the walls when people throw an "m" in there. There is no "m" in there! M's got better things to do! She's busy bossing Bond around. Turning voluptuous into volumptuous just makes me cringe. Even as I type volumptuous that red wavy line is screaming, "Hey! Knock it off!" The word now contains the word "lump." And there is nothing sexy about a lump. If you've got a lump, you need to get that shit looked at.

So, the moral of today's story is pronounce your word correctly. Because with a word like this, there's really no need to go from bad to worse.

Ate:
Whataburger for breakfast (One resolution for this year is no fast food breakfast unless I'm so hungover I'm tempted to keep drinking instead.)
Jimmy John's ham, turkey, and cheese skinny sandwich. (Don't let that name fool you. That bitch had almost 600 calories.)
Chocolate Banana Skinny Smoothie (This one actually was pretty skinny on the calorie count)
Spicy sesame chicken from Pho Colonial with Cucumber Limeade to drink (Which was the freakin' bees knees!)

Yeah. We went way over the calorie count today. We'll do better tomorrow.

Workout:
Consisted of letting my eighteen month old nephew chase me in laps around the sofa with his Frankenstein zombie arms..in heels. I then proceeded to fall to the floor and let him catch me. Where he crawled on top of my butt and pushed on my back until I army crawled across the floor, dragging his adorably chunky butt with me.

And if you don't think that's a workout...you try it. Get back to me on that one.

I Hate The Word Voluptuous

I do. I hate the word "voluptuous." I realize that it is supposed to be a word that embodies sumptuous and sexy. But I hate it. Especially when it is applied to me. Especially when I'm wearing a swimsuit.

I'm a curvy girl. I'm a 10-12 on top and at least a 14 on bottom. My hourglass is a little bottom heavy. I don't think I'm necessarily fat, just a little more rounded than I'd like to be. I jiggle in places I'd rather not. Parts of me hit each other during the day and night that I wish didn't (for example my thighs in a skirt). And don't get me started on the hail damage. If my ass were a car, it would be a bargain in a hail sale. But I'm after changing that.

We've only got a few months till the world ends anyway right? (I don't believe that. I'm just a smart ass.) So why not see if I can't look absolutely hot by the time the Mayans roll around. I'm hoping this might provide me with some motivation. So I'm not being hateful when I say this isn't for you. Mostly I'm just saying that this is for me. Online accountability to myself. If you'd like to come along for the ride, it won't hurt my feelings. I'm just not self important enough to think anyone else gives three damns.


Ate: Too much crap to try to stave off the New Year's hangover.
Workout: Walked all over Six Flags a couple of times. 25 squats, 10 tricep chair dip thingys


And yes, thingy's is a technical term. Get over it.