I'm still here. I do feel like I might be starving to death but have not succumbed yet. I'm here. I did not abandon you, my four faithful readers. But I am hungry. And grumpy. I've barely been able to muster up the energy to take care of the people that rely on me daily much less the energy to write. But I've missed you. I've missed writing about the daily doses of beatings I endure from All-business Brenda.
This little competition is almost over and I would be lying if I said I wasn't conflicted. I'm conflicted for several reasons. 1.)I'm hungry, grumpy and tired. 2.)I'm still jiggly. 3.)I'm scared about what is going to happen when I'm not going balls to the wall with insane workouts and no accountability. I need accountability in my life. I am the middle child, after all. It's in my DNA.
But it has been a rough couple of weeks for me. I broke my foot. Yes, you read correctly. Just three small stress fractures in my left foot. Which is actually the foot to break if you're going to have to be in a boot for at least 3 weeks because at least you can still drive. I speak from experience, people.
But I have a theory about why I always get injured. Are you ready for my theory? You see, I have self- diagnosed myself with Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis. Which is a rare disease where you don't feel pain. (Not really, but just go with me on this.) I believe I have a smidgen of this disease which is why I get hurt so often. My body doesn't give me any signals that I might be headed for an injury so I just keep going and going until BAM - I've broken a foot or torn an Achilles tendon. It's the only logical explanation I can come up with...so it's either Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis or just plain stubbornness. But I'm sticking with CIPA. My family might disagree but who cares what they think. Not me. I sure don't. Not one bit. Just kidding.
Still fighting the fat...broken foot and all.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Friday Night
This past weekend, one of Greg's childhood friends came to town to celebrate his 40th birthday. Hi, Todd. Hi, Cassie. Actually, he had a whole posse come in town to celebrate. Some were from Kansas City, some were from Denver and we were lucky enough to already be living here so we only had to travel about 8 miles for the festivities. His lovely, lovely wife planned a fun and relaxing weekend for all involved. On Friday, the boys golfed. G-Pat was in his happy place. The girls went to the spa at the resort where they were staying. I did not get to partake in the spa activities as I had two little hell-yuns running amok and creating chaos. Which is exactly what they do best.
On Friday night, we all met up for dinner at this very posh restaurant at the resort. G-Pat had said to me, "why don't you go find a new outfit to wear to the dinner." He must have realized that lycra work-out pants would not be appropriate attire at such a fancy place. "G-Pat, who holds a quarter so tight the eagle screams, say what?" I replied. You don't need to tell me twice and I happily went on my way to buy some new threads.
Can anyone explain to me why it is that when I want to buy a new outfit; I can't find anything I like but when I do not need to be shopping for new clothes, I could spend thousands of dollars? Why is that?
Well, I found a new shirt and some pretty awesome high-heeled stripper shoes. (Who do I think I am trying to wear high-heeled stripper shoes?) I had a pair of size 12 jeans I found deep in the bowels of my closet from another time and place when I could wear a size 12. I put my outfit together and have to admit I was feeling pretty good. My new ruffle-y shirt hid most of my rolls and my new stripper shoes made me feel like a runway model. (A plus-size runway model but a runway model never the less.) I couldn't walk very well in my stripper shoes but dad-gum it if I wasn't going to put in the effort.
Now, you're probably thinking...how could you feel good about yourself when you are wearing a size 12 and are still one and half-ton Tilly? To that I just say, because in July, I was wearing a size 22 and ready to lay in the corner in the fetal position and suck my thumb. It's true. Just ask G-Pat. So, a 12 is feeling pretty good right now.
We go to the restaurant and have a great time with everyone. But after the dinner, G-Pat and I have to get home to the hell-yuns and relieve the babysitter. We head upstairs to the valet and G-Pat says he forgot something downstairs and has to go back. So, I tell him I will happily wait for him on the couch in the lobby because I can hardly walk to the car in my stripper shoes much less back down the two hundred stairs and back up again. While he was gone, a very nice and most likely inebriated man came up to me and asked why was I sitting all alone and who was I waiting for? I told him my husband would be right back and that he just ran down stairs for a quick second. He said...get this..."You mean, he left you up here all by yourself? Shame on him. Shame on him. If you were with me, I would never leave you alone." My first thought was...that's kind of creepy but my second thought was...Holy cow, I think I just got hit on. Now, it's been about a hundred years since I was last hit on by someone other than G-Pat. So, I wasn't really sure if that's what was happening or not. But I asked G-Pat when he came back and he assured me, yes, that indeed, the guy was hitting on me. I was kind of excited. I won't lie. Sure, G-Pat hits on me all the time but I have to admit, I'm easy when it comes to him. I'm easy just not cheap. That's what I always say. Now, I was feeling really good. All of this hard work and I'm getting a little love from the male species. Even if he was most likely inebriated.
So, we walk outside to the valet and I decide I'm going to drive us home since I can't drink. I go to get in the car and my stripper shoe heel gets stuck on the bottom of my jeans as I lift my leg to get in the car. I lose all balance and totally take a digger right there in the valet line. I banged my elbow into the car door opening and it immediately started swelling. I thought I broke my arm. G-Pat reaches over the seat to try to help me along with the valet guy and I manage to get up and slide into the car. G-Pat says, "who falls getting IN a car?" Um, that would be me. I do that. I told him, "nothing like falling flat on your ass to deflate your ego and bring you back to reality."
By the way, I had my arm x-rayed on Monday and it's not broken but it does look like someone took a baseball bat to my right elbow. Now, I really have to keep fighting the fat so I can get out of these size 12 jeans and learn how to properly walk in high-heeled stripper shoes.
On Friday night, we all met up for dinner at this very posh restaurant at the resort. G-Pat had said to me, "why don't you go find a new outfit to wear to the dinner." He must have realized that lycra work-out pants would not be appropriate attire at such a fancy place. "G-Pat, who holds a quarter so tight the eagle screams, say what?" I replied. You don't need to tell me twice and I happily went on my way to buy some new threads.
Can anyone explain to me why it is that when I want to buy a new outfit; I can't find anything I like but when I do not need to be shopping for new clothes, I could spend thousands of dollars? Why is that?
Well, I found a new shirt and some pretty awesome high-heeled stripper shoes. (Who do I think I am trying to wear high-heeled stripper shoes?) I had a pair of size 12 jeans I found deep in the bowels of my closet from another time and place when I could wear a size 12. I put my outfit together and have to admit I was feeling pretty good. My new ruffle-y shirt hid most of my rolls and my new stripper shoes made me feel like a runway model. (A plus-size runway model but a runway model never the less.) I couldn't walk very well in my stripper shoes but dad-gum it if I wasn't going to put in the effort.
Now, you're probably thinking...how could you feel good about yourself when you are wearing a size 12 and are still one and half-ton Tilly? To that I just say, because in July, I was wearing a size 22 and ready to lay in the corner in the fetal position and suck my thumb. It's true. Just ask G-Pat. So, a 12 is feeling pretty good right now.
We go to the restaurant and have a great time with everyone. But after the dinner, G-Pat and I have to get home to the hell-yuns and relieve the babysitter. We head upstairs to the valet and G-Pat says he forgot something downstairs and has to go back. So, I tell him I will happily wait for him on the couch in the lobby because I can hardly walk to the car in my stripper shoes much less back down the two hundred stairs and back up again. While he was gone, a very nice and most likely inebriated man came up to me and asked why was I sitting all alone and who was I waiting for? I told him my husband would be right back and that he just ran down stairs for a quick second. He said...get this..."You mean, he left you up here all by yourself? Shame on him. Shame on him. If you were with me, I would never leave you alone." My first thought was...that's kind of creepy but my second thought was...Holy cow, I think I just got hit on. Now, it's been about a hundred years since I was last hit on by someone other than G-Pat. So, I wasn't really sure if that's what was happening or not. But I asked G-Pat when he came back and he assured me, yes, that indeed, the guy was hitting on me. I was kind of excited. I won't lie. Sure, G-Pat hits on me all the time but I have to admit, I'm easy when it comes to him. I'm easy just not cheap. That's what I always say. Now, I was feeling really good. All of this hard work and I'm getting a little love from the male species. Even if he was most likely inebriated.
So, we walk outside to the valet and I decide I'm going to drive us home since I can't drink. I go to get in the car and my stripper shoe heel gets stuck on the bottom of my jeans as I lift my leg to get in the car. I lose all balance and totally take a digger right there in the valet line. I banged my elbow into the car door opening and it immediately started swelling. I thought I broke my arm. G-Pat reaches over the seat to try to help me along with the valet guy and I manage to get up and slide into the car. G-Pat says, "who falls getting IN a car?" Um, that would be me. I do that. I told him, "nothing like falling flat on your ass to deflate your ego and bring you back to reality."
By the way, I had my arm x-rayed on Monday and it's not broken but it does look like someone took a baseball bat to my right elbow. Now, I really have to keep fighting the fat so I can get out of these size 12 jeans and learn how to properly walk in high-heeled stripper shoes.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Weigh-In Month 3
Saturday was our official 12 week weigh-in. We, meaning me and Rosemarie, dehydrated the day before. We worked out in the hot sauna of the bathroom inside all-business Brenda's gym. (Hey, I'll do anything for a little movement on the scale.) We hauled the workout step and risers into the bathroom where it is two-hundred and twelve degrees in there and stepped up and down and up and down until we were drenched in sweat and began to hallucinate. Our little plan worked because we dropped another pound. We would have stayed in there longer but we took a 3 second break to try to catch our breath and at that exact moment, all-business Brenda walked in and busted us saying the only thing we were exercising was our mouths and to get out and get on the treadmill.
But then it was weigh-in time and drumroll please......I've lost 44 pounds and 40 3/4 inches. I was .2 ounces away from being at 45 pounds but since all-business Brenda made me leave the bathroom sauna, I couldn't get that extra .2 ounces off. Oh, well. I guess that means I just have to keep fighting the fat.
After the weigh-in, G-Pat was meeting me at all-business Brenda's to drop off our little hell-yuns because he had a date with his golf clubs that morning. He came in to the gym and we showed him and the little hell-yuns my before pictures and the pictures taken from that day. They all oohed and aahhed like they are required to do but my oldest hell-yun said, "Mommy, I think you are beautiful no matter if you lose weight or not. But, now, you're getting skinnier (her word...not mine)and I could just stare at you all day long."
Now, my girl, if she is not just the most precious, little bucket of love, pumpkin muffin, sugar loaf, doll baby then I don't know who is. I love that girl and I've decided to give up on my dream of having an encounter with Channing Tatum and just focus on fighting the fat for my three most favorite people in the world. Sorry Channing.
More to come about our exciting and eventful weekend. Stay tuned...
But then it was weigh-in time and drumroll please......I've lost 44 pounds and 40 3/4 inches. I was .2 ounces away from being at 45 pounds but since all-business Brenda made me leave the bathroom sauna, I couldn't get that extra .2 ounces off. Oh, well. I guess that means I just have to keep fighting the fat.
After the weigh-in, G-Pat was meeting me at all-business Brenda's to drop off our little hell-yuns because he had a date with his golf clubs that morning. He came in to the gym and we showed him and the little hell-yuns my before pictures and the pictures taken from that day. They all oohed and aahhed like they are required to do but my oldest hell-yun said, "Mommy, I think you are beautiful no matter if you lose weight or not. But, now, you're getting skinnier (her word...not mine)and I could just stare at you all day long."
Now, my girl, if she is not just the most precious, little bucket of love, pumpkin muffin, sugar loaf, doll baby then I don't know who is. I love that girl and I've decided to give up on my dream of having an encounter with Channing Tatum and just focus on fighting the fat for my three most favorite people in the world. Sorry Channing.
More to come about our exciting and eventful weekend. Stay tuned...
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Wake-up Call
Have you ever stayed in a lovely hotel and needed a wake-up call in the morning? The night before the wake-up call, you phone down to the front desk and might say something like, "yes, I would like a wake-up call for 6:30 am." Then the operator will respond with, "of course, we would be happy to ring your room at that time to make sure you get up and get on with your business for the day. Thank you and have a wonderful evening."
A conversation might happen like that. I'm just sayin'.
When dawn breaks the next morning and your snoozing away in Dreamland, the God-forsaken phone rings for your requested wake-up call. All of a sudden you're startled, scared and can't remember where you are or what you're doing or why you're even in a hotel room. Then you come to your senses and pick up the ringing phone and BAM -you're awake.
I'll get back to this in a minute but first...
My Mondays usually go something like this...
4:45 am - alarm clock goes off
I stumble to the bathroom -wash face, brush teeth, put hair in ponytail, change into workout clothes
stumble to kitchen-grab water, keys, cell phone and food journal and head out the door to all-business Brenda's gym for a grueling beating.
Finish the beating, go home, feed little hell-yuns, clean-up breakfast, shower, laundry, make beds, more laundry, fix lunch, clean-up lunch, laundry, write blog, vaccuum, fix supper, head back to all-business Brenda's for another one hour beating, come home, bathe little hell-yuns, clean-up supper, put laundry away, read a bedtime story, put little hell-yuns to bed, do some sit-ups, donkey kicks and fire hydrants and pass out on the couch until G-Pat pokes me to get up and come to bed.
But on Tuesdays, I don't have to wake up at 4:45 am. I love Tuesdays. I love not waking up at 4:45 am. We've been on fall break and yesterday was our last day of break. So, no one in my house had to wake up at all. Well, G-Pat had to go to work but he doesn't go in until 8:30. We, meaning me and the little hell-yuns, could have stayed in bed all day. Which is exactly what we were planning to do until...
I got a 6:30 am wake-up call. I was snoozing away just fine in my warm, cozy, perfect, sleep-number bed. I was dreaming about not having to wake up at 4:45 am and fairies and rainbows. All was right with my world. But then the phone rang. I was startled and scared and I couldn't remember who I was, where I was or what I was doing. I rushed around trying to find the God-forsaken ringing phone and I pushed the talk button...
Me: "Hello?"
The person on the end: "Kelli? Are you asleep? You need to GET UP! It's Brenda."
Me: "Oh, Hi, I was asleep but that's ok. Is everything all right?
Brenda: "Uh, yes, everything's fine. I just want to know what time are you going to do your cardio today?"
Me: "I have no idea. I don't even know my own name right now much less what time I'm going to get on a treadmill. I was just dreaming of rainbows and fairies."
Brenda: "Well, ok. But you need to also do 4 sets of 100 crunches and 4 sets of 40-50 throw downs along with your donkey kicks and fire hydrants."
Me: "Yes, ma'am. You bet-ya. No problem. Done deal. Mission accomplished."
Brenda: "Ok, bye."
Me: "Bye." Thanks for calling.
Then I made a bee line straight for my bed. I pulled the covers up and shut my eyes. Then I heard, "Momma? Momma? Who was on the phone? I'm hungry. Can you fix me some breakfast? Can I watch SpongeBob? Want to play Wii with me?" And so that is how my Tuesday began.
My Wednesday? Oh, my Wednesday began with a 4:45am wake-up from the alarm clock. The usual beating from all-business Brenda took place but today, a very nice lady who was working out in the gym says to me, "Kelli, wow! You're looking so svelte." I said,"oh, thank you. That's so sweet of you." Then, all-businss Brenda pipes in with..."No, she doesn't look svelte. It must just be the capri workout pants she's wearing today that make you think she's svelte."
Thank you. Thank you very much. Now, I know she's kidding and trying to keep me motivated so it doesn't bother me that I'm not svelte. But I'd be lying if I said it isn't nice to hear someone notice all of my hard work...even if it is from the capris I'm wearing.
And so that is how my Wednesday began.
I don't care what anyone says, I'm still motivated to fight this fat so one day I might actually look svelte.
A conversation might happen like that. I'm just sayin'.
When dawn breaks the next morning and your snoozing away in Dreamland, the God-forsaken phone rings for your requested wake-up call. All of a sudden you're startled, scared and can't remember where you are or what you're doing or why you're even in a hotel room. Then you come to your senses and pick up the ringing phone and BAM -you're awake.
I'll get back to this in a minute but first...
My Mondays usually go something like this...
4:45 am - alarm clock goes off
I stumble to the bathroom -wash face, brush teeth, put hair in ponytail, change into workout clothes
stumble to kitchen-grab water, keys, cell phone and food journal and head out the door to all-business Brenda's gym for a grueling beating.
Finish the beating, go home, feed little hell-yuns, clean-up breakfast, shower, laundry, make beds, more laundry, fix lunch, clean-up lunch, laundry, write blog, vaccuum, fix supper, head back to all-business Brenda's for another one hour beating, come home, bathe little hell-yuns, clean-up supper, put laundry away, read a bedtime story, put little hell-yuns to bed, do some sit-ups, donkey kicks and fire hydrants and pass out on the couch until G-Pat pokes me to get up and come to bed.
But on Tuesdays, I don't have to wake up at 4:45 am. I love Tuesdays. I love not waking up at 4:45 am. We've been on fall break and yesterday was our last day of break. So, no one in my house had to wake up at all. Well, G-Pat had to go to work but he doesn't go in until 8:30. We, meaning me and the little hell-yuns, could have stayed in bed all day. Which is exactly what we were planning to do until...
I got a 6:30 am wake-up call. I was snoozing away just fine in my warm, cozy, perfect, sleep-number bed. I was dreaming about not having to wake up at 4:45 am and fairies and rainbows. All was right with my world. But then the phone rang. I was startled and scared and I couldn't remember who I was, where I was or what I was doing. I rushed around trying to find the God-forsaken ringing phone and I pushed the talk button...
Me: "Hello?"
The person on the end: "Kelli? Are you asleep? You need to GET UP! It's Brenda."
Me: "Oh, Hi, I was asleep but that's ok. Is everything all right?
Brenda: "Uh, yes, everything's fine. I just want to know what time are you going to do your cardio today?"
Me: "I have no idea. I don't even know my own name right now much less what time I'm going to get on a treadmill. I was just dreaming of rainbows and fairies."
Brenda: "Well, ok. But you need to also do 4 sets of 100 crunches and 4 sets of 40-50 throw downs along with your donkey kicks and fire hydrants."
Me: "Yes, ma'am. You bet-ya. No problem. Done deal. Mission accomplished."
Brenda: "Ok, bye."
Me: "Bye." Thanks for calling.
Then I made a bee line straight for my bed. I pulled the covers up and shut my eyes. Then I heard, "Momma? Momma? Who was on the phone? I'm hungry. Can you fix me some breakfast? Can I watch SpongeBob? Want to play Wii with me?" And so that is how my Tuesday began.
My Wednesday? Oh, my Wednesday began with a 4:45am wake-up from the alarm clock. The usual beating from all-business Brenda took place but today, a very nice lady who was working out in the gym says to me, "Kelli, wow! You're looking so svelte." I said,"oh, thank you. That's so sweet of you." Then, all-businss Brenda pipes in with..."No, she doesn't look svelte. It must just be the capri workout pants she's wearing today that make you think she's svelte."
Thank you. Thank you very much. Now, I know she's kidding and trying to keep me motivated so it doesn't bother me that I'm not svelte. But I'd be lying if I said it isn't nice to hear someone notice all of my hard work...even if it is from the capris I'm wearing.
And so that is how my Wednesday began.
I don't care what anyone says, I'm still motivated to fight this fat so one day I might actually look svelte.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Lunges
I do lunges.
When I workout with all-business Brenda I do A LOT of lunges.
I'd rather be doing lounges. That's not really a word. What I really mean is that I would rather be lounging not lunge-ing. (Lunging just does not seem to be the correct way to spell lunge-ing -- I am aware that lunge-ing is not correct either but it's just how I'm going to spell it today. I'm a rule-breaker that way. It's just how I roll.)
But I've done too much lounging. That is why I'm two-ton-Tilly and am now having to fight the fat. (Oops, sorry, April!) (April doesn't like it when I call myself two-ton-Tilly. So since I've lost a few pounds, I will honor her wishes and now refer to myself as one-and-a-half-ton-Tilly.) It just doesn't have the same ring to it - but I will go with it.
When I lunge, I am specifically trying to fight the fat on, in and around my hips, thighs, glutes and hamstrings. Let me tell you...my hips, thighs, glutes and hamstrings are revolting. They are pissed that I made them do eight hundred and forty-two lunges yesterday. Today, my lower body does not want to move. My lower body is saying, "no, we are staying in bed and lounging--ALL DAY!" But I have things to do today, like buying Halloween costumes for two little hell-yuns and laundry and fitting in a little cardio workout at some point and doing my business in the bathroom.
I've been dreading going to the restroom all day today because my lower body hurts so bad. I'm scared, people. I'm really, really, scared.
I think I will have G-Pat install a handicap rail in my bathroom. I surely need something to hang on to while I try to lower myself down to the toilet and I can't rely on my thighs and hamstrings to help safely land my buttocks on the potty. They might just give out. Then, where would I be? But laid out on the cold tile of my bathroom floor soiling myself. It's a chance I'm not willing to take.
Maybe, all-business Brenda was right and maybe I need to just invest in some of those adult diapers after all. I'm sure it is cheaper than installing a handicap rail.
For now, I will shuffle along and get my chores done so I can go back to bed and lounge and think about fighting the fat.
When I workout with all-business Brenda I do A LOT of lunges.
I'd rather be doing lounges. That's not really a word. What I really mean is that I would rather be lounging not lunge-ing. (Lunging just does not seem to be the correct way to spell lunge-ing -- I am aware that lunge-ing is not correct either but it's just how I'm going to spell it today. I'm a rule-breaker that way. It's just how I roll.)
But I've done too much lounging. That is why I'm two-ton-Tilly and am now having to fight the fat. (Oops, sorry, April!) (April doesn't like it when I call myself two-ton-Tilly. So since I've lost a few pounds, I will honor her wishes and now refer to myself as one-and-a-half-ton-Tilly.) It just doesn't have the same ring to it - but I will go with it.
When I lunge, I am specifically trying to fight the fat on, in and around my hips, thighs, glutes and hamstrings. Let me tell you...my hips, thighs, glutes and hamstrings are revolting. They are pissed that I made them do eight hundred and forty-two lunges yesterday. Today, my lower body does not want to move. My lower body is saying, "no, we are staying in bed and lounging--ALL DAY!" But I have things to do today, like buying Halloween costumes for two little hell-yuns and laundry and fitting in a little cardio workout at some point and doing my business in the bathroom.
I've been dreading going to the restroom all day today because my lower body hurts so bad. I'm scared, people. I'm really, really, scared.
I think I will have G-Pat install a handicap rail in my bathroom. I surely need something to hang on to while I try to lower myself down to the toilet and I can't rely on my thighs and hamstrings to help safely land my buttocks on the potty. They might just give out. Then, where would I be? But laid out on the cold tile of my bathroom floor soiling myself. It's a chance I'm not willing to take.
Maybe, all-business Brenda was right and maybe I need to just invest in some of those adult diapers after all. I'm sure it is cheaper than installing a handicap rail.
For now, I will shuffle along and get my chores done so I can go back to bed and lounge and think about fighting the fat.
Friday, October 15, 2010
So Much Better
I'm back.
I'm sure you were so worried. Thank you.
I tried to go workout with all-business Brenda on Wednesday but she said, "Go home. You can't come in my gym if you're sick and contagious."
But at least I tried to make the effort. Even if I couldn't breathe and knew there would be no way for me to run on a treadmill -- I showed up. But since she sent me home, I went back to bed for 48 hours...straight. Not really, but close. G-Pat even took off work to take care of our two little hell-yuns so I could sleep for 48 hours. Isn't he the best? Gosh, I love that man!
I lost all sense of taste. I didn't want to eat. Anything. It was a glorious 3 days. It was like my prayers were answered. My dream came true. I could have cared less about food or eating or tasting or chewing. For three whole days, I had no relationship with food. Me and food...we broke up. But now, we are back together. Oh, how I wish I could stay away but somehow like a bad boyfriend, I keep coming back.
Did you ever see the movie, The Devil Wears Prada? "I'm one stomach flu away from my goal weight."
That's how I felt this week only I had a sinus infection not the flu and I'm about nine hundred and twenty seven stomach flu's away from my goal weight.
But I did lose six pounds for the week. I even surpassed my goal that all-business Brenda wanted me to hit by next Friday.
All-business Brenda was so proud. This is what she said to me today...
"Oh, Kelli - that is awesome. I'm so proud and I take back every bad thing I've ever thought about you and said about you. Give me a hug! I'm so glad you got sick."
All of the above statements are true. I can't make this stuff up.
I'm just glad I'm finally getting a little love around here. It's about time. Although, by tomorrow she will have taken it all back and won't be proud anymore. She'll probably be back to holding a grudge for the time I ate the extra peanut butter. For now - I'm going to soak it all in because this my friends, is what motivates me. It doesn't take much...just a little encouragement every now and then.
Now, I'm heading back to see all-business Brenda for a second dose of cardio. See, I'm motivated to keep fighting this fat.
I'm sure you were so worried. Thank you.
I tried to go workout with all-business Brenda on Wednesday but she said, "Go home. You can't come in my gym if you're sick and contagious."
But at least I tried to make the effort. Even if I couldn't breathe and knew there would be no way for me to run on a treadmill -- I showed up. But since she sent me home, I went back to bed for 48 hours...straight. Not really, but close. G-Pat even took off work to take care of our two little hell-yuns so I could sleep for 48 hours. Isn't he the best? Gosh, I love that man!
I lost all sense of taste. I didn't want to eat. Anything. It was a glorious 3 days. It was like my prayers were answered. My dream came true. I could have cared less about food or eating or tasting or chewing. For three whole days, I had no relationship with food. Me and food...we broke up. But now, we are back together. Oh, how I wish I could stay away but somehow like a bad boyfriend, I keep coming back.
Did you ever see the movie, The Devil Wears Prada? "I'm one stomach flu away from my goal weight."
That's how I felt this week only I had a sinus infection not the flu and I'm about nine hundred and twenty seven stomach flu's away from my goal weight.
But I did lose six pounds for the week. I even surpassed my goal that all-business Brenda wanted me to hit by next Friday.
All-business Brenda was so proud. This is what she said to me today...
"Oh, Kelli - that is awesome. I'm so proud and I take back every bad thing I've ever thought about you and said about you. Give me a hug! I'm so glad you got sick."
All of the above statements are true. I can't make this stuff up.
I'm just glad I'm finally getting a little love around here. It's about time. Although, by tomorrow she will have taken it all back and won't be proud anymore. She'll probably be back to holding a grudge for the time I ate the extra peanut butter. For now - I'm going to soak it all in because this my friends, is what motivates me. It doesn't take much...just a little encouragement every now and then.
Now, I'm heading back to see all-business Brenda for a second dose of cardio. See, I'm motivated to keep fighting this fat.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sick-O
I'm sick and must go to bed.
The End.
Good-bye Forever.
Just kidding. But I am sick and I do want to go to bed. I have a sore throat and can't breathe through my nose. I have a fever. My head hurts. I want to vomit. My left knee hurts. I have shin splints on my right leg. Is it just one splint since it is only on one shin? I will have to ponder this. I want my momma to make me homemade chicken noodle soup. But I can't eat momma's homemade chicken noodle soup.
I worked out this morning at o'dark hundred. It was uneventful. I didn't want to talk because my throat hurt too bad. I just wanted to get down to business so I could go home and suffer in my own bed. But I can't go to bed because I have two little hell-yuns running around here. They don't care if I'm sick. They still want me to fix them breakfast and lunch and probably supper too. Although I did speak a little this morning. I told all-business Brenda not to stand right in front of the treadmill that I was on because I did not want to sweat or spit on her and therefore make her ill. Although maybe if I had not fore-warned her, then she might get sick and might not make us work out. Naaaaahhhh. That wouldn't happen. She would still make us work out and she might even be harder on us because she wouldn't be feeling well. She would probably say something like, "we don't have time to get sick around here. We have to get this weight off. Let's go. Move faster Kelli." I can just hear her now.
I don't know if I would be able to handle that so now that I think about it...I'm glad I told her to get out of my sweat, spit ridden running zone.
Do you think it's a problem that I am now hearing my trainer's voice in my head?
I'm going to lay down now so later, I can muster up the energy to keep fightin' the fat.
The End.
Good-bye Forever.
Just kidding. But I am sick and I do want to go to bed. I have a sore throat and can't breathe through my nose. I have a fever. My head hurts. I want to vomit. My left knee hurts. I have shin splints on my right leg. Is it just one splint since it is only on one shin? I will have to ponder this. I want my momma to make me homemade chicken noodle soup. But I can't eat momma's homemade chicken noodle soup.
I worked out this morning at o'dark hundred. It was uneventful. I didn't want to talk because my throat hurt too bad. I just wanted to get down to business so I could go home and suffer in my own bed. But I can't go to bed because I have two little hell-yuns running around here. They don't care if I'm sick. They still want me to fix them breakfast and lunch and probably supper too. Although I did speak a little this morning. I told all-business Brenda not to stand right in front of the treadmill that I was on because I did not want to sweat or spit on her and therefore make her ill. Although maybe if I had not fore-warned her, then she might get sick and might not make us work out. Naaaaahhhh. That wouldn't happen. She would still make us work out and she might even be harder on us because she wouldn't be feeling well. She would probably say something like, "we don't have time to get sick around here. We have to get this weight off. Let's go. Move faster Kelli." I can just hear her now.
I don't know if I would be able to handle that so now that I think about it...I'm glad I told her to get out of my sweat, spit ridden running zone.
Do you think it's a problem that I am now hearing my trainer's voice in my head?
I'm going to lay down now so later, I can muster up the energy to keep fightin' the fat.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sugar
I'm sorry it's been a few days but I've been so busy. We have friends in town visiting and I've been playing hostess and spending the last two days outside at a soccer tournament. I have heat exhaustion. I think it is a hundred and forty degrees outside. Will it ever get cool here?
Back to the story I promised. I have to first apologize to my four faithful readers who most likely already know this story but I think it is too funny not to share. This happened about ten years ago. It was during a time when clothes were all decked out with rhinestones and sequins. Back during a time when little skinny thangs were sporting around t-shirts that said things like, "angel" or "hottie" or "cutie" or "little devil." Do you remember this time?
I think it might be making a comeback. I have been seeing some skinny thangs around here with all kinds of bedazzled clothing. Bedazzled hats, belts, t-shirts and even jeans --some of these clothes have more bling than P-Diddy.
Well, one day I was at the mall and wandered into the tent and awning factory to find some clothes. Actually, it was just a plus-sized women's clothing store (you know the one). The womens' version of a big and tall except the only requirement is to be big not tall. Let me also point out a very big pet peeve of mine. I do not understand why these plus-size stores feel the need to try to copy the same designs as the skinny folk wear. Fatties around the world usually want to hide their fat rolls under a simple cardigan set. We don't want to walk around looking like Skinny Skeeter trying to pull off a pair of daisy dukes. Seriously, we can't do it. We won't do it. I'm sorry, sometimes I need to vent. Now, back to the story...
As I'm scanning the rack, I find a white, soft, cotton, t-shirt that says,
S U G A R written across the chest in glittery, shimmery rhinestones. I held up the shirt to the sales clerk and said, "Please tell me y'all are not selling a lot of these shirts." She said slightly shocked, "Why? Don't you think they are so cute?"
I replied, "Um, no this is NOT cute and could you please tell me why in the HELL would you put a FOOD PRODUCT on a fat woman's t-shirt? Especially a food product outlined in glittery, shimmery rhinestones? Sugar, please! Why not just bedazzle on there...I HEART TWINKIES?"
The sales clerk was a little tiffed and offended and needless to say, I left there without a stitch of clothing.
I also find it funny how department stores name the sections of the women's clothing. For example, one day I was in a big-time, foo-foo, upscale department store...Just a hint...it starts with a N and ends in a M.
My friend, April, was visiting (who by the way, is not a fatty and is very beautiful...inside and out) and I humored her by going in to this store because I now live in the big city and there is no N_ _ _ _ _ _ _ M where she lives. This is not my kind of scene. I'm way too cheap. I'm way more comfortable buying my clothes from the Wal-mart or if I feel like really loosening up the purse strings, I may splurge and go to Target.
We were browsing around at all the over-priced clothing and I said, "oh, I would like to go over to their plus-size section and see if I can find some shorts." I look up and scan the different sections. I see Petite and Juniors and a section for the Working Woman and then low and behold...ENCORE. I told April, "I'll bet you anything that ENCORE section over there is for the fatties. I bet they call it the ENCORE section because that's a nice way of saying,"we know you fat chicks come back for 2nd's."
We snorted and laughed so hard I think we wet ourselves. Then, we got kicked out of N_ _ _ _ _ _ _ M's because they realized we soiled their marble floor. Just kidding...that last part is not true. We did not soil the marble floors at N_ _ _ _ _ _ _M. But we did snort and laugh.
Now, I have to go get on the treadmill and keep fighting the fat because I never want to shop in the ENCORE section again.
Back to the story I promised. I have to first apologize to my four faithful readers who most likely already know this story but I think it is too funny not to share. This happened about ten years ago. It was during a time when clothes were all decked out with rhinestones and sequins. Back during a time when little skinny thangs were sporting around t-shirts that said things like, "angel" or "hottie" or "cutie" or "little devil." Do you remember this time?
I think it might be making a comeback. I have been seeing some skinny thangs around here with all kinds of bedazzled clothing. Bedazzled hats, belts, t-shirts and even jeans --some of these clothes have more bling than P-Diddy.
Well, one day I was at the mall and wandered into the tent and awning factory to find some clothes. Actually, it was just a plus-sized women's clothing store (you know the one). The womens' version of a big and tall except the only requirement is to be big not tall. Let me also point out a very big pet peeve of mine. I do not understand why these plus-size stores feel the need to try to copy the same designs as the skinny folk wear. Fatties around the world usually want to hide their fat rolls under a simple cardigan set. We don't want to walk around looking like Skinny Skeeter trying to pull off a pair of daisy dukes. Seriously, we can't do it. We won't do it. I'm sorry, sometimes I need to vent. Now, back to the story...
As I'm scanning the rack, I find a white, soft, cotton, t-shirt that says,
S U G A R written across the chest in glittery, shimmery rhinestones. I held up the shirt to the sales clerk and said, "Please tell me y'all are not selling a lot of these shirts." She said slightly shocked, "Why? Don't you think they are so cute?"
I replied, "Um, no this is NOT cute and could you please tell me why in the HELL would you put a FOOD PRODUCT on a fat woman's t-shirt? Especially a food product outlined in glittery, shimmery rhinestones? Sugar, please! Why not just bedazzle on there...I HEART TWINKIES?"
The sales clerk was a little tiffed and offended and needless to say, I left there without a stitch of clothing.
I also find it funny how department stores name the sections of the women's clothing. For example, one day I was in a big-time, foo-foo, upscale department store...Just a hint...it starts with a N and ends in a M.
My friend, April, was visiting (who by the way, is not a fatty and is very beautiful...inside and out) and I humored her by going in to this store because I now live in the big city and there is no N_ _ _ _ _ _ _ M where she lives. This is not my kind of scene. I'm way too cheap. I'm way more comfortable buying my clothes from the Wal-mart or if I feel like really loosening up the purse strings, I may splurge and go to Target.
We were browsing around at all the over-priced clothing and I said, "oh, I would like to go over to their plus-size section and see if I can find some shorts." I look up and scan the different sections. I see Petite and Juniors and a section for the Working Woman and then low and behold...ENCORE. I told April, "I'll bet you anything that ENCORE section over there is for the fatties. I bet they call it the ENCORE section because that's a nice way of saying,"we know you fat chicks come back for 2nd's."
We snorted and laughed so hard I think we wet ourselves. Then, we got kicked out of N_ _ _ _ _ _ _ M's because they realized we soiled their marble floor. Just kidding...that last part is not true. We did not soil the marble floors at N_ _ _ _ _ _ _M. But we did snort and laugh.
Now, I have to go get on the treadmill and keep fighting the fat because I never want to shop in the ENCORE section again.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
It's Complicated
The body is a complicated thing. My body is especially complicated. I don't like complicated. I'm from Mississippi and I'm not even sure if my family tree forks. That is why I appreciate simple things.
There are so many things to learn while trying to fight the fat. For example: I was running (said like Forrest Gump) tonight at the gym. It was an all cardio night. Which means I hop on the treadmill and don't get off for at least an hour and a half. (All-business Brenda said I could stop running after an hour and a half.) I do run at different speeds and, therefore different intensities and I do take a twenty second break every few minutes. But only twenty seconds. That's it. Let me just tell you...it's hard to catch your breath in twenty seconds or at least it is for this fatty. But anyway, I checked my heart rate and was above the max level for my age. So, I asked all-business Brenda, "what happens when my heart rate is above the max level?" She said, "your body goes into anaerobic and you're not burning fat." I think that's what she said. It was something like that. I was running my tookus off on the treadmill - I can't pay attention to everything. But this is what I mean by bodies are complicated. I'm running hard and fast and then find out that I wasn't even burning fat. I had to slow down to bring my heart rate back down into the FAT BURNING ZONE. See, complicated.
Then, you have to eat some carbs because carbs give you energy but you can't have too many or the wrong kinds of carbs because they turn into sugar and sugar equals fat. Oh, and if you don't eat, you're body thinks your going into starvation and hangs on to the fat for dear life. Why can't my body just know that if I don't eat it's because I'm trying to lose weight and be anorexic? Just kidding. I don't really want to be anorexic. I think. So, what I'm wondering is...all that calories in versus calories out just a bunch of malarkey? Why can't it just be simple? I like simple. Most of the time, I think I'm a pretty smart gal. But when it comes to learning about all the intricacies of my body; I'm about as smart as a box of hair.
But for some exciting news...I was down a few more L-B's tonight so now I'm as giddy as a school girl on prom night. I'm going to bed now. I'm delirious. Plus, I have to be up at o'dark hundred for another beatin'. Stay tuned...tomorrow I'm going to tell you a funny fatty story that happened to me a few years ago.
Still fightin' the fat...
There are so many things to learn while trying to fight the fat. For example: I was running (said like Forrest Gump) tonight at the gym. It was an all cardio night. Which means I hop on the treadmill and don't get off for at least an hour and a half. (All-business Brenda said I could stop running after an hour and a half.) I do run at different speeds and, therefore different intensities and I do take a twenty second break every few minutes. But only twenty seconds. That's it. Let me just tell you...it's hard to catch your breath in twenty seconds or at least it is for this fatty. But anyway, I checked my heart rate and was above the max level for my age. So, I asked all-business Brenda, "what happens when my heart rate is above the max level?" She said, "your body goes into anaerobic and you're not burning fat." I think that's what she said. It was something like that. I was running my tookus off on the treadmill - I can't pay attention to everything. But this is what I mean by bodies are complicated. I'm running hard and fast and then find out that I wasn't even burning fat. I had to slow down to bring my heart rate back down into the FAT BURNING ZONE. See, complicated.
Then, you have to eat some carbs because carbs give you energy but you can't have too many or the wrong kinds of carbs because they turn into sugar and sugar equals fat. Oh, and if you don't eat, you're body thinks your going into starvation and hangs on to the fat for dear life. Why can't my body just know that if I don't eat it's because I'm trying to lose weight and be anorexic? Just kidding. I don't really want to be anorexic. I think. So, what I'm wondering is...all that calories in versus calories out just a bunch of malarkey? Why can't it just be simple? I like simple. Most of the time, I think I'm a pretty smart gal. But when it comes to learning about all the intricacies of my body; I'm about as smart as a box of hair.
But for some exciting news...I was down a few more L-B's tonight so now I'm as giddy as a school girl on prom night. I'm going to bed now. I'm delirious. Plus, I have to be up at o'dark hundred for another beatin'. Stay tuned...tomorrow I'm going to tell you a funny fatty story that happened to me a few years ago.
Still fightin' the fat...
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Oatmeal A-la-froo-froo
Last night I went to a spin class at the gym. Not all-business Brenda'a gym but you know, the gym where I am not a member. The gym where I don't pay monthly dues. You know, the one where they just let me in all willy-nilly and don't ask questions. I'm loving this gym more and more. Anyway, I met Rosemarie there for this spin class. It was the most fun! (Name that movie...April?) Not! This morning, the insides of my ass cheeks are quite sore. It's because they make spin bike seats so small. They make them for people with little-bitty, teeny-weeny arses. My arse is not so little-bitty or teeny-weeny. My arse hangs over the side of the seat and is no where to be found. That seat is all up in my biz-ness. If you know what I mean. It's a problem but I don't care because I get to go take this spin class for free. So, I deal and suffer the next day.
After the spin class, I was explaining to Rosemarie (Hi Rosemarie!) She started reading this little blog too! I was explaining that Mrs. Brenda changed up my diet plan to include oatmeal and egg whites in the morning for breakfast instead of my usual quick and easy ultimate meal shake. I was telling her that I added a few raspberries, a packet of splenda and a dash of cinnamon to my oatmeal. She asked me if I had asked all-business Brenda about adding cinnamon to my oatmeal and wasn't sure if I could have cinnamon. "Of course, what could be wrong with a little dash of cinnamon?I'm sure I asked. I think I asked. I believe she said it was ok." But then I started to panic. I couldn't remember if I had actually asked all-business Brenda about adding my favorite spice to my oatmeal. Did I? Didn't I? I couldn't remember and I was afraid of another verbal lashing. I hate those verbal lashings. So, I hopped right in my car and called all-business Brenda. But she didn't answer. I called her four hundred and thirty seven more times until she answered. Turns out, she was at her bible study. Oops, sorry! But I couldn't go all night without knowing the answer to my cinnamon dilemma. I love cinnamon. I heart cinnamon. Kelli + cinnamon = bliss. If loving cinnamon is wrong - I don't want to be right. I don't think I can live in a world without cinnamon. In case you were wondering she said cinnamon was fine to add to my oatmeal. Oh, thank goodness. I was so worried. Well, this morning she told me she had been thinking about my cinnamon question and that she doesn't think I should add cinnamon to my oatmeal. Huh? Say what? Come again? She said that I need to stop trying to make my food taste good and just think of it as fuel for my body. "It's just like gasoline for your car." She said. "You are so worried about making your food taste good. You need to just eat your oatmeal and quit trying to make it Oatmeal-a-la-froo-froo." I didn't realize adding a sprinkle of cinnamon turned it into oatmeal-a-la-froo-froo. Who knew? Why can't the fuel I put in my body be good tasting gasoline? I want super-premium unleaded fuel not just plain 'ol unleaded. But I can't figure her out. I can't explain her logic. I don't even pretend to understand. I just say, "Yes, ma'am. All-righty then. I won't make oatmeal a-la-froo-froo anymore. Oatmeal a-la-froo-froo is now forever banned from my recipe repertoire."
I think I will go daydream about cinnamon and fightin' my fat.
After the spin class, I was explaining to Rosemarie (Hi Rosemarie!) She started reading this little blog too! I was explaining that Mrs. Brenda changed up my diet plan to include oatmeal and egg whites in the morning for breakfast instead of my usual quick and easy ultimate meal shake. I was telling her that I added a few raspberries, a packet of splenda and a dash of cinnamon to my oatmeal. She asked me if I had asked all-business Brenda about adding cinnamon to my oatmeal and wasn't sure if I could have cinnamon. "Of course, what could be wrong with a little dash of cinnamon?I'm sure I asked. I think I asked. I believe she said it was ok." But then I started to panic. I couldn't remember if I had actually asked all-business Brenda about adding my favorite spice to my oatmeal. Did I? Didn't I? I couldn't remember and I was afraid of another verbal lashing. I hate those verbal lashings. So, I hopped right in my car and called all-business Brenda. But she didn't answer. I called her four hundred and thirty seven more times until she answered. Turns out, she was at her bible study. Oops, sorry! But I couldn't go all night without knowing the answer to my cinnamon dilemma. I love cinnamon. I heart cinnamon. Kelli + cinnamon = bliss. If loving cinnamon is wrong - I don't want to be right. I don't think I can live in a world without cinnamon. In case you were wondering she said cinnamon was fine to add to my oatmeal. Oh, thank goodness. I was so worried. Well, this morning she told me she had been thinking about my cinnamon question and that she doesn't think I should add cinnamon to my oatmeal. Huh? Say what? Come again? She said that I need to stop trying to make my food taste good and just think of it as fuel for my body. "It's just like gasoline for your car." She said. "You are so worried about making your food taste good. You need to just eat your oatmeal and quit trying to make it Oatmeal-a-la-froo-froo." I didn't realize adding a sprinkle of cinnamon turned it into oatmeal-a-la-froo-froo. Who knew? Why can't the fuel I put in my body be good tasting gasoline? I want super-premium unleaded fuel not just plain 'ol unleaded. But I can't figure her out. I can't explain her logic. I don't even pretend to understand. I just say, "Yes, ma'am. All-righty then. I won't make oatmeal a-la-froo-froo anymore. Oatmeal a-la-froo-froo is now forever banned from my recipe repertoire."
I think I will go daydream about cinnamon and fightin' my fat.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Peanut Butter and Dairy Queen
It was a rough morning for me at the gym today. It started with a verbal beating from all-business Brenda. I turned in my daily food journal. (It's the journal where I write down every single morsel of food that enters my mouth then I turn it in before every workout for all-business Brenda to analyze.) Yesterday, I had an ultimate meal shake for breakfast, an apple with 2 Tbsp of fresh ground peanut butter, tuna with 3 crackers, a few celery sticks with some peanut butter for my afternoon snack and another ultimate meal shake for dinner.
Just so you know, the ultimate meal is a meal replacement shake -- not a juicy, melt in your mouth cheeseburger with french fries on the side. Oh, how I love french fries. I love me some french fries. French fries are my friend. French fries make my world a better place. But I had to break up with my friend about 9 weeks ago. I'm hoping one day we will get to be friends again. But I can't think about that now.
Back to my point...so for the day I was around 1050 calories. Even with my 4 Tbsp of all natural peanut butter. So, I didn't think I was doing too bad. Ehhhn. Wrong. Think again. When all-business Brenda read that in my journal, I thought her head was going to spin off. She was ticked. Irate. A verbal lashing ensued. "You're not following my program. You just consumed 400 calories and 28 grams of fat with that peanut butter. I've told you - you can't duplicate your morning snack and your afternoon snack. Do me a favor and don't ever eat peanut butter again. You are a complete moron. You are the scum of the earth." Ok. Just kidding - she didn't say I was a complete moron or the scum of the earth but I bet she was thinking it. If looks could kill, I wouldn't be writing this blog from my cushy chair in my home office, I would be sprawled out, face down on the treadmill.
I tried to defend myself with my rationalization that even with the peanut butter calories, I still didn't consume my allotted calories for the day. She didn't want to hear it. Honestly, I shouldn't even try to explain myself. I should have just said, "Yes, ma'am - may I have another beating, please." From now on, that is exactly what I will say -- "yes, ma'am. Um, yes, ma'am. Whatever you say, ma'am."
Then, later on in my workout she told me she was glad that I was wearing my tight t-shirt because she could see now that...(are you ready for this zinger?) Get this...
I look like a Dairy Queen ice cream cone. She said, "you used to just be one big round ball of fat in the front but now it's starting to come off and now you have just a couple of humps of fat, you know, like a dairy queen ice cream cone. What? That's a compliment." She said.
Really? That is a compliment? Now, I know I said that I like it when all-business Brenda throws me a bone. Compliments keep me motivated. But this kind of compliment makes me want to go curl up in the corner in the fetal position and suck my thumb. So, apparently, this is what I look like - in case any of you were curious.
I have to go do 4000 crunches now so I can maybe, lose another hump in my mid-section. I'm going to sing the Black Eyed Peas, "My Humps" while I do these crunches... What'cha gonna do with all that junk - all that junk inside that trunk --- My humps, my lovely lady lumps...check 'em out."
The moral of this story...Don't get fat. Fighting the fat - sucks.
Just so you know, the ultimate meal is a meal replacement shake -- not a juicy, melt in your mouth cheeseburger with french fries on the side. Oh, how I love french fries. I love me some french fries. French fries are my friend. French fries make my world a better place. But I had to break up with my friend about 9 weeks ago. I'm hoping one day we will get to be friends again. But I can't think about that now.
Back to my point...so for the day I was around 1050 calories. Even with my 4 Tbsp of all natural peanut butter. So, I didn't think I was doing too bad. Ehhhn. Wrong. Think again. When all-business Brenda read that in my journal, I thought her head was going to spin off. She was ticked. Irate. A verbal lashing ensued. "You're not following my program. You just consumed 400 calories and 28 grams of fat with that peanut butter. I've told you - you can't duplicate your morning snack and your afternoon snack. Do me a favor and don't ever eat peanut butter again. You are a complete moron. You are the scum of the earth." Ok. Just kidding - she didn't say I was a complete moron or the scum of the earth but I bet she was thinking it. If looks could kill, I wouldn't be writing this blog from my cushy chair in my home office, I would be sprawled out, face down on the treadmill.
I tried to defend myself with my rationalization that even with the peanut butter calories, I still didn't consume my allotted calories for the day. She didn't want to hear it. Honestly, I shouldn't even try to explain myself. I should have just said, "Yes, ma'am - may I have another beating, please." From now on, that is exactly what I will say -- "yes, ma'am. Um, yes, ma'am. Whatever you say, ma'am."
Then, later on in my workout she told me she was glad that I was wearing my tight t-shirt because she could see now that...(are you ready for this zinger?) Get this...
I look like a Dairy Queen ice cream cone. She said, "you used to just be one big round ball of fat in the front but now it's starting to come off and now you have just a couple of humps of fat, you know, like a dairy queen ice cream cone. What? That's a compliment." She said.
Really? That is a compliment? Now, I know I said that I like it when all-business Brenda throws me a bone. Compliments keep me motivated. But this kind of compliment makes me want to go curl up in the corner in the fetal position and suck my thumb. So, apparently, this is what I look like - in case any of you were curious.
The moral of this story...Don't get fat. Fighting the fat - sucks.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Say what?
Hold up...Wait! You will not believe what happened today during my beating with all-business Brenda. First, I ran on the treadmill...my knee hurt. But I kept on going. Then I did 9,247 different exercises. I won't bore you with all of them. But my knee was still hurting but I kept right on truckin'. Then, I had to do these straddle-jump things on a step. I believe she said do six hundred and twenty-five of them or maybe it was just forty. But either way, my knee...was really hurting. (Emphasis on really, really, really) So I started to cry. But just a little. I am not a cryer. Except for when I watch Ol' Yeller or Where the Red Fern Grows or hear a story about a mom who lost her daughter in a skiing accident and donated all her organs and then met the woman who received her daughter's heart, who happened to be a nurse and she let the grieving mother listen to her deceased daughter's heart beat inside her chest with her stethoscope. That's a true story. I heard about it on Good Morning America and the heart recipient lives here in Arizona. Who wouldn't cry at that story? I bet you're all sobbing right now. But anyway, I rarely cry. So, for me to cry during a workout (which has never happened before) you know I was feeling a little pain. But I kept on going because for some reason I have a freakishly weird pain thresh-hold.
That is not the point of this story. Who cares about my knee? The point of the story is this...after I finally finished my grueling workout, I was getting ready to leave and all-business Brenda said, "ok, I will see you in the morning at 8:00 and good workout today." My ears perked up and I thought my head was going to spin around in circles. "Um, what did you just say?" I asked? "I'll see you at 8 in the morning." She replied. "No, no, no, before that." I said. "I said, good workout today." She said.
I could not believe my ears. It's like the heavens parted and I heard angels singing. What was this I was hearing? Could it be? Surely, it was not. But, I think it was. I could not believe I actually received a compliment from all-business Brenda. I told you that's not her style. Compliments are few and far between with her. Now, I'm not one who needs to be coddled. I don't need to have my ego stroked all the time. I'm a big girl. (Literally and figuratively speaking) I can handle the truth. But it is nice for all-business Brenda to throw me a bone every now and then. Even if it was because she saw me crying and perhaps felt bad for me and my knee. So, today, I'm going to soak up my compliment. I'm going to take it all in and waller around in it. (Is it wallow or waller?) I'm going to say waller - because I'm from Mississippi and I can. I'm going to do all that while I ice my knee and think about how to keep fighting this fat.
That is not the point of this story. Who cares about my knee? The point of the story is this...after I finally finished my grueling workout, I was getting ready to leave and all-business Brenda said, "ok, I will see you in the morning at 8:00 and good workout today." My ears perked up and I thought my head was going to spin around in circles. "Um, what did you just say?" I asked? "I'll see you at 8 in the morning." She replied. "No, no, no, before that." I said. "I said, good workout today." She said.
I could not believe my ears. It's like the heavens parted and I heard angels singing. What was this I was hearing? Could it be? Surely, it was not. But, I think it was. I could not believe I actually received a compliment from all-business Brenda. I told you that's not her style. Compliments are few and far between with her. Now, I'm not one who needs to be coddled. I don't need to have my ego stroked all the time. I'm a big girl. (Literally and figuratively speaking) I can handle the truth. But it is nice for all-business Brenda to throw me a bone every now and then. Even if it was because she saw me crying and perhaps felt bad for me and my knee. So, today, I'm going to soak up my compliment. I'm going to take it all in and waller around in it. (Is it wallow or waller?) I'm going to say waller - because I'm from Mississippi and I can. I'm going to do all that while I ice my knee and think about how to keep fighting this fat.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Um, Huh?
I had a doctor's visit this morning. I wanted her to check out my knee that has been throbbing for about a week. But I do not want to tell all-business Brenda about my knee because 1)I'm not a complainer. 2)She probably feels the same way about my knee as she does my back. 3)She could disqualify me from this competition if I was injured and could not perform my duties in the gym. Then, where would that leave me but to fight the fat on my own and we all know how that has turned out. But now since she reads this little blog - my secret is out. Hi Brenda! Please, don't disqualify me -- I'm really not hurt. But the doctor said I was ok - she doesn't THINK I have a meniscus tear. (Emphasis on Think) We will just see if it gets worse. But I can handle it. I mean, I ran seven and a half miles with a broken foot through the steets of San Fransisco. Surely I can handle a little tendonitis or meniscus tear. My point is...that I was busy this morning. I had the doctor's appointment then I had to run to the store to get some medicine and a few other things, then I was off to pick up one of my little hell-yuns from school because it was an early realease day and well, while I was out I forgot all about my mid-morning snack. I didn't really forget because my stomach was reminding me...feed me! Feed me! It has been drilled into my head-to not miss any meals. You(I) want to eat every 3 hours so that your(my) body doesn't think I'm starving it and stores all my fat. My body must think I'm starving it quite often because it has been storing it up for years. It must think I'm a bear going into hibernation and not coming out for years. But I'm trying to undo all my body's confusion. So, I picked up a protein bar to have as my snack. I thought this would be a good choice since I was out and about and in a bit of an emergency...snack wise. I told all-business Brenda about my snack of choice today, and guess what? It was apparently a bad decision. Here I thought she would say, "wow, Kelli - good decision-making. You're so smart and savvy. Way to think on your toes in a pinch." Well, let me tell you - she did not say that. She said, "how many grams of sugar were in that protein bar? That was a terrible choice. I would have rather you not eaten anything. Why don't you carry some almonds in your purse for times like these? You just ate a glorified candy bar!" Now, I am baffled. Befuddled. Flustered. Puzzled. I'm as confused as a hungry baby at a titty bar. (I'm sorry I said titty.) This just goes to show that I'm not ready to fight the fat on my own. I need all-business Brenda. I need her to make these decisions for me...because I'm not that smart and not savvy and I still have alot of fat to fight.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Not Easily Broken
Although feeling dejected, rejected and distraught after yesterday's conversation with all-business Brenda, I decided I'm not that easily broken. I truly don't know what more I could do to be successful at getting this weight off unless I started doing meth. Which I would do if I wasn't aware of all the side effects like losing my hair, my teeth, my family and you know...possibly my life. But since I am aware of all those side effects -- I guess doing meth is out of the question. (Just kidding...as if I would ever do anything illegal. I'm just saying I'm desperate -- you know?)
I went in today for another beating by all-business Brenda. Let's just say she was cracking the whip from the get-go this morning. She started yelling at me to "let's go!" while I was still in the parking lot...inside my car. She pulled into the parking lot right after I did and hopped right out and started yelling just as I was gathering up my purse and water bottles. I couldn't get out of the car fast enough. That's when it started. "Kelli, let's go! Kelli, run faster. Kelli, how many? Kelli, jumping jacks. Kelli, boxing. Kelli, squats. Kelli, move. Kelli, over here. Kelli, right here. Kelli, you're moving too slow. Kelli, we only have 4 weeks left until the next weigh-in. Kelli, let's get this fat off. Kelli, right here. Kelli, over there. Kelli, we've got to get these legs off. Kelli, how many sets? Kelli, get going. Kelli, if you stop I'm going to flog you with a baguette. Kelli...Kelli...Kelli." Ok, so she didn't say she would flog me but I'm sure she would have had there been a baguette around. Good thing she doesn't keep bakery items at her gym. I was so tired of hearing my name this morning I considered heading straight to the social security office to change my name to Thelma. But I was too sweaty and stinky and one of my little hell-yuns needed to get to school. Just to be clear - it wasn't like I wasn't moving. It's not like I was sitting there giving myself a manicure. I was moving. I was doing everything she told me to do. But, that's just how some days are when you work out with all-business Brenda. Since, I'm not easily broken, I'm looking forward to tomorrow's workout and fighting off more fat.
I went in today for another beating by all-business Brenda. Let's just say she was cracking the whip from the get-go this morning. She started yelling at me to "let's go!" while I was still in the parking lot...inside my car. She pulled into the parking lot right after I did and hopped right out and started yelling just as I was gathering up my purse and water bottles. I couldn't get out of the car fast enough. That's when it started. "Kelli, let's go! Kelli, run faster. Kelli, how many? Kelli, jumping jacks. Kelli, boxing. Kelli, squats. Kelli, move. Kelli, over here. Kelli, right here. Kelli, you're moving too slow. Kelli, we only have 4 weeks left until the next weigh-in. Kelli, let's get this fat off. Kelli, right here. Kelli, over there. Kelli, we've got to get these legs off. Kelli, how many sets? Kelli, get going. Kelli, if you stop I'm going to flog you with a baguette. Kelli...Kelli...Kelli." Ok, so she didn't say she would flog me but I'm sure she would have had there been a baguette around. Good thing she doesn't keep bakery items at her gym. I was so tired of hearing my name this morning I considered heading straight to the social security office to change my name to Thelma. But I was too sweaty and stinky and one of my little hell-yuns needed to get to school. Just to be clear - it wasn't like I wasn't moving. It's not like I was sitting there giving myself a manicure. I was moving. I was doing everything she told me to do. But, that's just how some days are when you work out with all-business Brenda. Since, I'm not easily broken, I'm looking forward to tomorrow's workout and fighting off more fat.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Triceps
I forgot to mention in my last post but during yesterday's beatings, all-business Brenda had me do 170 tricep pull downs. That's right -that's what I said...170. Four sets - 50 reps for the first and second set, followed by 40 reps on the third set and 30 reps on the fourth set and sprinting in between each set. Let's just say it hurts to even type. I bet you didn't know you even use your tricep muscles to type. But apparently you do because every part of my jiggly, flappin' in the wind, arms hurt. Hurt bad. Just keepin' it real while I fight my fat. Moral of the story: Don't get fat. It hurts too much.
Lie Detector Test
Now, I get that I can be a head case. I have issues. More issues than Playboy. I get it. I'm blaming middle child syndrome. I'm a pleaser. I like for everyone to get along - don't like confrontations and I want people to like me. Alot. When people say, "oh, Kelli, you're blog is so funny -ha,ha,ha, ho,ho,ho -it makes me want to keep writing. See, I like positive affirmation. I live for positive affirmation. I'm needy like that.
Well, remember in yesterday's post I told you that I thought all-business Brenda was proud of my progress? Well, scratch that statement. Forget I ever said that. Delete. Eehhnn- wrong. Try again. I got a call from all-business Brenda this morning and this is the bomb she dropped on me. She said she had been studying our pictures from the 1st four weeks and our 2nd four weeks, and she did not see much of a difference in my photos. Actually, she said, "I really need to get out a magnifying glass to see any of your changes. Then, I looked at Rose's pictures and oh, I see a big difference in her photos." I felt like she stabbed me in the heart with one of her stilletto heels. I was devastated. Dejected. A wounded puppy. My spirit - deflated - just like that. I wanted to hang up the phone and go watch 'Ol Yeller and wallow in my tears. Because you see, I'm a pleaser. All I really want besides losing 1000 pounds over the next 8 weeks is to make all-business Brenda proud.
Then she said that if she did not see enough changes in me over the next four weeks then she was going to...get this... make me take a lie detector test. Yes, that's right - that is exactly what she said. I can't make up this stuff. And you thought "all-business Brenda" was just a silly nickname. Think again, my friends. Think again.
So now, am I not only not good enough, I am apparently a liar too. I keep a journal of all the food I inhale and I even confessed to her when I ate the dad-gum cheetos. But that is not good enough either. See, I told you she likes Rosemarie better.
I told her I was confused because after the weigh-in the other day she said, "you are doing phenomenal." Those were her words. Not mine. Phenomenal. Suddenly, a few days later, 30 pounds is not so phenomenal. Now, besides the pressure of the biggest loser competition, now I have the looming pressure of a lie detector test. But to that - I say, HA! Bring on the electrodes and blood pressure cuff -I have nothing to hide! Although I am worried about one thing...I sweat like a fat girl who just wrote her 1st love letter...does that affect the outcome of the test? But all-business Brenda and all of her other clients can attest to my sweatiness. It's kinda crazy. When I leave after a workout, I look like I've just been hosed down for a wet t-shirt contest. That is why I've learned not to wear white to my workouts. I have to kick up the fighting of the fat. I'm not really sure what else I can do -I'm following the program to a tee. (minus the slight mishap with a few cheetos) But apparently I need to take it to a whole new level. Game on! Fat-Beware!
Well, remember in yesterday's post I told you that I thought all-business Brenda was proud of my progress? Well, scratch that statement. Forget I ever said that. Delete. Eehhnn- wrong. Try again. I got a call from all-business Brenda this morning and this is the bomb she dropped on me. She said she had been studying our pictures from the 1st four weeks and our 2nd four weeks, and she did not see much of a difference in my photos. Actually, she said, "I really need to get out a magnifying glass to see any of your changes. Then, I looked at Rose's pictures and oh, I see a big difference in her photos." I felt like she stabbed me in the heart with one of her stilletto heels. I was devastated. Dejected. A wounded puppy. My spirit - deflated - just like that. I wanted to hang up the phone and go watch 'Ol Yeller and wallow in my tears. Because you see, I'm a pleaser. All I really want besides losing 1000 pounds over the next 8 weeks is to make all-business Brenda proud.
Then she said that if she did not see enough changes in me over the next four weeks then she was going to...get this... make me take a lie detector test. Yes, that's right - that is exactly what she said. I can't make up this stuff. And you thought "all-business Brenda" was just a silly nickname. Think again, my friends. Think again.
So now, am I not only not good enough, I am apparently a liar too. I keep a journal of all the food I inhale and I even confessed to her when I ate the dad-gum cheetos. But that is not good enough either. See, I told you she likes Rosemarie better.
I told her I was confused because after the weigh-in the other day she said, "you are doing phenomenal." Those were her words. Not mine. Phenomenal. Suddenly, a few days later, 30 pounds is not so phenomenal. Now, besides the pressure of the biggest loser competition, now I have the looming pressure of a lie detector test. But to that - I say, HA! Bring on the electrodes and blood pressure cuff -I have nothing to hide! Although I am worried about one thing...I sweat like a fat girl who just wrote her 1st love letter...does that affect the outcome of the test? But all-business Brenda and all of her other clients can attest to my sweatiness. It's kinda crazy. When I leave after a workout, I look like I've just been hosed down for a wet t-shirt contest. That is why I've learned not to wear white to my workouts. I have to kick up the fighting of the fat. I'm not really sure what else I can do -I'm following the program to a tee. (minus the slight mishap with a few cheetos) But apparently I need to take it to a whole new level. Game on! Fat-Beware!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
All-Business Brenda
My trainer, all-business Brenda, the ruler of my universe, the one responsible for the grueling workouts, the one who picked me out of a slew of other fat people to be in her contest...You know, I've mentioned her time or two on this blog. Well, I have a few things to say about her. I just lover her. That is what I have to say. Even though she causes me sore muscles and aches and pains - I still love her. Maybe I'm a sadist or am I a massachist? I'm whichever is the one that enjoys the pain. Not that I enjoy the pain but I do love it when I am sore after a workout. I like the feeling of knowing that I worked my muscles so hard that they have no option but to change and hopefully get smaller. Or maybe I want the muscles to get bigger and the fat to get smaller. Yes, that's it. That is what I'm striving for. Well, then she must be the one who enjoys enflicting the pain. Either way, that's us. The saddist and the massachist. I wonder if she will ever know how grateful I am for what she has done? I wonder if I will ever be able to show her my appreciation for choosing me out of so many other capable fatties that wanted to be chosen for this contest just as much as I did? I don't know. But what I do know is that even though I joke about getting up at o'dark hundred for Brenda-inflicted beatings, I truly love it. I love how we banter back and forth. I love that she is all-business. I love that she just says it like it is and does not sugar coat anything. I love how she pushes me to do things I would never dream of doing. I love how she believes in me and knows that I am capable of so much more. Now, all-business Brenda is somewhat hard to please and is not quick with the compliments - that's not her style. But despite that, I do know she is happy with my progress.
Now, I just have to find a job that will allow me to keep all-business Brenda after this contest is over. I was talking to G-Pat over dinner the other night about making a career change. I said, "I just don't know what I am going to do after this is over. I want to be able to stay with her but need to figure out a way of making a little extra cash. I need something that is flexible so I can still be home with our little hell-yuns but make enough money to affod these extra luxuries." G-Pat agreed. "I may have to be a phone sex operator or possibly a call girl - you know? Surely, there has to be a market for "plus size hookers." Surely, some lonely ol' guy out there wants to hook up with a big girl. Surely, there is someone out there that wants a roll in the hay with a flabby, jiggly, road map of stretch marks across her stomach, fat chick, you know?"
Then I asked him, "What do you think the going rate is these days for hmm-hmm?" He replies, "I have no idea and my name's not Shirley" (name that movie) So I asked, "well, what would you pay for a little hmm-hmm?" He said,"honey, I pay thousands for you. And by the time our life is over it will probably be in the millions. That's what I pay for hmm-hmm." Good point. Good point. Although is he calling me his hooker? I will have to think on this awhile. I'm not above it. I'm just sayin'. I'm not above it.
Now, I just have to find a job that will allow me to keep all-business Brenda after this contest is over. I was talking to G-Pat over dinner the other night about making a career change. I said, "I just don't know what I am going to do after this is over. I want to be able to stay with her but need to figure out a way of making a little extra cash. I need something that is flexible so I can still be home with our little hell-yuns but make enough money to affod these extra luxuries." G-Pat agreed. "I may have to be a phone sex operator or possibly a call girl - you know? Surely, there has to be a market for "plus size hookers." Surely, some lonely ol' guy out there wants to hook up with a big girl. Surely, there is someone out there that wants a roll in the hay with a flabby, jiggly, road map of stretch marks across her stomach, fat chick, you know?"
Then I asked him, "What do you think the going rate is these days for hmm-hmm?" He replies, "I have no idea and my name's not Shirley" (name that movie) So I asked, "well, what would you pay for a little hmm-hmm?" He said,"honey, I pay thousands for you. And by the time our life is over it will probably be in the millions. That's what I pay for hmm-hmm." Good point. Good point. Although is he calling me his hooker? I will have to think on this awhile. I'm not above it. I'm just sayin'. I'm not above it.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Can I get you a magazine?
During my workout this morning, all-business Brenda tells me that from now on our workouts are going to be grueling. "Oh, good, because up until now I thought we were just having picnics in the park." I say with a hint of sarcasm. What have we been doing for the last two months? How will I survive anything harder? Let's just say...I'm scared. I'm very, very scared. Now, I'm going to have to download Gloria Gaynor's hit song, I Will Survive on my IPOD as my theme song to help me get through what All-business Brenda is now calling grueling. I realize that song is a break-up song and getting over a man song but I'm going to relate it to my workouts. I might have to change up the lyrics to fit my needs. I'm thinking of something like this...
First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
through what you've done to my back side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how I've done me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
and now I'm back
Brenda's in my face
I just walked in to her gym
because I want to get slim
I should have changed my stupid mind
I should have ran right out the door
If I had known for just one second
what she would be doing to my core!
Go on now go hit the floor
just crunch up and down
'cause this fat is not welcome anymore
weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with cream pie
you think I'd crumble
you think I'd lay down and die
Oh no, not I
I will survive
as long as I know how to run
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my fat to give
and I'll survive
I will survive -- Hey -Hey
It's catch-y right? Well, that's my new song that I will have to live by for the next 8 weeks during my grueling workouts.
It was a leg day so that means my legs now are the consistency of jello or wet noodles. There were sprints, lunges, jumping jacks, more lunges, more jumping jacks, squats, jumping rope, hack-saw thingy machine, (I don't know the technical terms for these machines) leg presses, hamstring curls, jumping jacks, jumping rope, more lunges, leg extensions and the list just goes on and on. It was brutal. Brutal, I say. After my first set on the leg extension machine, I told Brenda that it felt awkward and that the pad thing on the bottom was not hitting in the right place. It needed to be moved up closer to my ankles not on my shoes. And also that the seat back was too far back and I needed it a little closer so I could press my back up against it. So she says, "Oh my gosh, girl please, just get on here and get going." But then she noticed how awkward I must have looked and so she adjusted everything for me. Then, she asked, "How's that for you --any better? So, I said, "yes, it's much better. Thank you." She replies well, good, can I get you some iced tea or a magazine now?"
I replied, "sure that would be great and could you massage my shoulders too -- there a little tight."
She just laughed and made me do 600 more leg extensions. Not really, 600 -- I exaggerate sometimes. I'm the middle child - it just comes with the territory.
I was not accurate on my measurements yesterday -- the actual amount is 32 & 1/4 inches lost. Hey, I'm counting every centimeter here. Now, I must go rest my mushy, jiggly legs so tomorrow I can muster up the energy to fight the fat.
First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
through what you've done to my back side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how I've done me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
and now I'm back
Brenda's in my face
I just walked in to her gym
because I want to get slim
I should have changed my stupid mind
I should have ran right out the door
If I had known for just one second
what she would be doing to my core!
Go on now go hit the floor
just crunch up and down
'cause this fat is not welcome anymore
weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with cream pie
you think I'd crumble
you think I'd lay down and die
Oh no, not I
I will survive
as long as I know how to run
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my fat to give
and I'll survive
I will survive -- Hey -Hey
It's catch-y right? Well, that's my new song that I will have to live by for the next 8 weeks during my grueling workouts.
It was a leg day so that means my legs now are the consistency of jello or wet noodles. There were sprints, lunges, jumping jacks, more lunges, more jumping jacks, squats, jumping rope, hack-saw thingy machine, (I don't know the technical terms for these machines) leg presses, hamstring curls, jumping jacks, jumping rope, more lunges, leg extensions and the list just goes on and on. It was brutal. Brutal, I say. After my first set on the leg extension machine, I told Brenda that it felt awkward and that the pad thing on the bottom was not hitting in the right place. It needed to be moved up closer to my ankles not on my shoes. And also that the seat back was too far back and I needed it a little closer so I could press my back up against it. So she says, "Oh my gosh, girl please, just get on here and get going." But then she noticed how awkward I must have looked and so she adjusted everything for me. Then, she asked, "How's that for you --any better? So, I said, "yes, it's much better. Thank you." She replies well, good, can I get you some iced tea or a magazine now?"
I replied, "sure that would be great and could you massage my shoulders too -- there a little tight."
She just laughed and made me do 600 more leg extensions. Not really, 600 -- I exaggerate sometimes. I'm the middle child - it just comes with the territory.
I was not accurate on my measurements yesterday -- the actual amount is 32 & 1/4 inches lost. Hey, I'm counting every centimeter here. Now, I must go rest my mushy, jiggly legs so tomorrow I can muster up the energy to fight the fat.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Dehydration
Every month before our weigh-ins we dehydrate ourselves. There are several reasons that we do this: 1)it takes a few extra pounds off of the scale 2)it helps with our pictures or at least that is what all-business Brenda tells me and 3)it takes a few extra pounds off the scale. Which is truly, my only goal in life. Well, that and raising 2 beautiful, happy and well adjusted children to grow up and be productive citizens of society. Oh, and maintaining a happy and healthy marriage to G-Pat and not neccessarily in that order. Ok, so I have 3 goals in life. I like to keep it real. Keep it simple. That's just how I roll.
Anyway, so I started the dehydration process yesterday morning which consists basically of not taking in any liquids until after the weigh-in. Did I mention I also had to work out yesterday afternoon for 3 hours without drinking a drop of delicious H2O? Then, get back up at o'dark hundred for another workout (all cardio) without a sip of water. Now, it may not sound too hard but let me tell you friends, it is pretty difficult. I'm parched. Now, you may be asking yourselves, Kelli, why would you do such a thing? It's just water weight and as soon as you drink anything -it's all going to come right back on. And to that, I say, yes, you're right, good point, can't argue with you there...however as I stated previously, 1) it takes a few extra pounds off of the scale. 2)it helps with the picture taking to make me not look so bloated. And 3)it takes a few extra pounds off the scale.
Last night, after our workout, me, Rosemarie, and all-business Brenda went to Outback for a little dinner because it was so late after the workout none of us wanted to go home and cook. The waiter came around and asked, "what can I bring you ladies to drink?" I piped up first with my cotton-mouth and said, "water, please, water." Brenda jumps in and says, "you can't have water -we're dehydrating, remember?" Then she says, "ok, waiter, let them each have a glass of water with lemon." He brings our water and Miss Brenda says, "ok but just little sips...just enough to wet your whistle." Did you ever see the movie Castaway with Tom Hanks? Well, I could feel his pain at that very moment. I would draw the water up through my straw - holding one end of the straw with my finger then barely touching it to my tongue in between my bites of salmon and green beans. Now, I realize I had it slightly better than being stranded on a deserted island and trying to get water to survive from the rain on a palm leaf. I mean, I was sitting in an air-conditioned Outback restaurant where I was being waited on and didn't have to go kill my own fish but still, I could relate. That's all I'm sayin'.
Then, came this morning's weigh-in and pictures. Well, the dehydration worked. I lost 10 lbs for the month which puts me at 30 pounds and 30 inches (I think) in the 8 weeks since I started this journey. Which by the way, I hate that word. Journey...The Bachelor and Bachelorrete shows have totally ruined that word for me since they use it in every other sentence. Oh, and amazing. Totally ruined that word for me too. They say things like..."this journey has been so amazing." Or..."that Vienna is such an amazing girl - I'm so glad she chose to go on this journey with me." Or..."Oh, Roberto, what an amazing guy. And since we decided to for-go our individual rooms and stay as a couple in the fantasy suite, he took me on a journey like no other. It was like, so amazing." So see, I hate those two words and shall now banish them from my vocabulary forever.
Sorry, I realize none of this makes sense but that is why you (my faithful 4 readers) keep coming back - because you never know what you're gonna get. Gotta go rehydrate now and continue on my journey of fighting the fat. Dammit, I did it again.
Anyway, so I started the dehydration process yesterday morning which consists basically of not taking in any liquids until after the weigh-in. Did I mention I also had to work out yesterday afternoon for 3 hours without drinking a drop of delicious H2O? Then, get back up at o'dark hundred for another workout (all cardio) without a sip of water. Now, it may not sound too hard but let me tell you friends, it is pretty difficult. I'm parched. Now, you may be asking yourselves, Kelli, why would you do such a thing? It's just water weight and as soon as you drink anything -it's all going to come right back on. And to that, I say, yes, you're right, good point, can't argue with you there...however as I stated previously, 1) it takes a few extra pounds off of the scale. 2)it helps with the picture taking to make me not look so bloated. And 3)it takes a few extra pounds off the scale.
Last night, after our workout, me, Rosemarie, and all-business Brenda went to Outback for a little dinner because it was so late after the workout none of us wanted to go home and cook. The waiter came around and asked, "what can I bring you ladies to drink?" I piped up first with my cotton-mouth and said, "water, please, water." Brenda jumps in and says, "you can't have water -we're dehydrating, remember?" Then she says, "ok, waiter, let them each have a glass of water with lemon." He brings our water and Miss Brenda says, "ok but just little sips...just enough to wet your whistle." Did you ever see the movie Castaway with Tom Hanks? Well, I could feel his pain at that very moment. I would draw the water up through my straw - holding one end of the straw with my finger then barely touching it to my tongue in between my bites of salmon and green beans. Now, I realize I had it slightly better than being stranded on a deserted island and trying to get water to survive from the rain on a palm leaf. I mean, I was sitting in an air-conditioned Outback restaurant where I was being waited on and didn't have to go kill my own fish but still, I could relate. That's all I'm sayin'.
Then, came this morning's weigh-in and pictures. Well, the dehydration worked. I lost 10 lbs for the month which puts me at 30 pounds and 30 inches (I think) in the 8 weeks since I started this journey. Which by the way, I hate that word. Journey...The Bachelor and Bachelorrete shows have totally ruined that word for me since they use it in every other sentence. Oh, and amazing. Totally ruined that word for me too. They say things like..."this journey has been so amazing." Or..."that Vienna is such an amazing girl - I'm so glad she chose to go on this journey with me." Or..."Oh, Roberto, what an amazing guy. And since we decided to for-go our individual rooms and stay as a couple in the fantasy suite, he took me on a journey like no other. It was like, so amazing." So see, I hate those two words and shall now banish them from my vocabulary forever.
Sorry, I realize none of this makes sense but that is why you (my faithful 4 readers) keep coming back - because you never know what you're gonna get. Gotta go rehydrate now and continue on my journey of fighting the fat. Dammit, I did it again.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
2 More Days
When I went in at o'dark hundred for my beating this morning. Miss Brenda informs me that now we are doing our weigh-in and measurements on Friday morning because the other contestant has to go out of town and won't be available on Saturday. "Back this crazy train up for just a sec." I say. "I need all the extra days I can get and I'm not going out of town so why do I need to do my weigh-in on Friday?" She gives me some lame statement about having to get it into the paper and since the photographer is coming in for the other contestants pics on Friday then I just need to do mine then too. Ugh! Ugh is all I have to say. And I now want to cry and scream, "it's not fair, it's just not fair - and stomp my feet. (I wonder if that will work?)
This is now going to screw up my Friday night plans where I was going to take up permanent residence on my treadmill for at least 6 hours before our Saturday weigh-in. I think she just likes her better. So, I told her that if the day ever arises I hope she is just as accomodating to me as she is to the other biggest loser. (That will show her) Plus, I think I remember reading something in our contract about not going out of town during this contest. I think I will bring this up tomorrow during my beating. But for now, I really have to step up the fighting of the fat -- I only have until Friday. BOO!
This is now going to screw up my Friday night plans where I was going to take up permanent residence on my treadmill for at least 6 hours before our Saturday weigh-in. I think she just likes her better. So, I told her that if the day ever arises I hope she is just as accomodating to me as she is to the other biggest loser. (That will show her) Plus, I think I remember reading something in our contract about not going out of town during this contest. I think I will bring this up tomorrow during my beating. But for now, I really have to step up the fighting of the fat -- I only have until Friday. BOO!
Monday, September 20, 2010
That's it - I'm going to Krispy Kreme
I having all kinds of wig-ga-dy-whack hormone changes going on in my body. Things like night sweats, feet swelling up at night to the size of baked potatoes, starting my period then stopping then starting up again a week later. I'm retaining so much fluid - I'm kinda like a camel in the desert. Hey, that's a good analogy because I do live in the desert and I am about the size of a camel - give or take 10 pounds.
But anyway, I got on the scale today and am only down 4 pounds. That's right, you read it right - only 4 pounds. What the %&##? All of this physical and emotional abuse I'm taking and all I get are a mere 4 pounds? Are you kidding me? I was so frustrated today that after the gym, I was seriously contemplating a run through the drive-thru of Krispy Kreme's. After all, Krispy Kreme's makes everything better. All is right with the world after you consume a melt-in-your-mouth glazed doughnut...or 16. But I didn't do it. I stayed the course. I kept on driving and went straight home to drink my breakfast. (Not alcohol, but my ultimate meal shake)
Really, the thought of explaining to all business Brenda that I had made a quick pit stop at the doughnut shop was too much for me to take. I feared for my life and my pocketbook if I were to inhale all that yummy goodness.
MUST KEEP FIGHTING THE FAT! That's the chant I will say all day today.
But anyway, I got on the scale today and am only down 4 pounds. That's right, you read it right - only 4 pounds. What the %&##? All of this physical and emotional abuse I'm taking and all I get are a mere 4 pounds? Are you kidding me? I was so frustrated today that after the gym, I was seriously contemplating a run through the drive-thru of Krispy Kreme's. After all, Krispy Kreme's makes everything better. All is right with the world after you consume a melt-in-your-mouth glazed doughnut...or 16. But I didn't do it. I stayed the course. I kept on driving and went straight home to drink my breakfast. (Not alcohol, but my ultimate meal shake)
Really, the thought of explaining to all business Brenda that I had made a quick pit stop at the doughnut shop was too much for me to take. I feared for my life and my pocketbook if I were to inhale all that yummy goodness.
MUST KEEP FIGHTING THE FAT! That's the chant I will say all day today.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Who is it all for?
I've been thinking lately about who am I doing all this for? When I say, "this" I mean, attempting to lose weight, get healthy, go to these grueling workouts for hours on end? Is it for me? Sure, part of it is -- it has to be, right? They say, (whoever "they" are) that you can't do it for anyone else but yourself. It's just like alchoholics or drug addicts -- no matter how much other people want to see them succeed and overcome their disease - they are the ones that have to want it even more. Trust me, I do want it.
I truly, truly want to overcome this cycle of abuse like no one else but I also want to do it for this man...
Channing Tatum. Who? You might be asking. Channing Tatum, he's the actor in Dear John, GI Joe, Step Up and Step Up 2: The Streets.
I watched Dear John today and really ogled and drooled is more like what I was doing. I wouldn't have known what the movie was about because I wasn't watching the movie. I was watching this fine specimen. Heaven, help me. I don't know him and he doesn't know me either but that's not really important now is it? He makes me think of doing dirty things to him. Did I just say that out loud? Well, it's true and I'm not sure my nether region can handle watching anymore movies with him in them. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking if there is anyone in the world besides myself I should be wanting to do this for it's my sweet hubby and little hell-yuns. Of course, I am thinking of them. Of course, I want to be healthy for them so you know... they can have a healthy spouse and momma around to help take care of them and so they don't have to watch me lose a foot to di-a-bee-tus. Of course, I want all that...yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah but I also want to do it for Channing. Chan, are you out there? I'm just sayin'. Go, watch Dear John and see if you don't come back here and agree with me. I dare you. Now, I got to go gettin' to fightin' this fat - for the sake of me and Channing. Oh, yeah, and that family of mine too.
I truly, truly want to overcome this cycle of abuse like no one else but I also want to do it for this man...
I watched Dear John today and really ogled and drooled is more like what I was doing. I wouldn't have known what the movie was about because I wasn't watching the movie. I was watching this fine specimen. Heaven, help me. I don't know him and he doesn't know me either but that's not really important now is it? He makes me think of doing dirty things to him. Did I just say that out loud? Well, it's true and I'm not sure my nether region can handle watching anymore movies with him in them. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking if there is anyone in the world besides myself I should be wanting to do this for it's my sweet hubby and little hell-yuns. Of course, I am thinking of them. Of course, I want to be healthy for them so you know... they can have a healthy spouse and momma around to help take care of them and so they don't have to watch me lose a foot to di-a-bee-tus. Of course, I want all that...yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah but I also want to do it for Channing. Chan, are you out there? I'm just sayin'. Go, watch Dear John and see if you don't come back here and agree with me. I dare you. Now, I got to go gettin' to fightin' this fat - for the sake of me and Channing. Oh, yeah, and that family of mine too.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
I Don't Care About Your Back
Always, at the end of these 2-3 hour workouts, all-business Brenda has us do some "floor work." (ie. abs and leg exercises) Well, yesterday, she handed me this weird looking contraption. It was handles with a wheel in the middle. She said get on your knees, cross your ankles and roll this thing out until your in a push up position then roll it back. And do that 50 times x 4 sets. (Sure, no problem - I'll get right on that.)Sounds easy, right? Well, let me tell you it's not. It's not easy at all. So, this lady next to me asks Brenda, "I don't have to do that thing do I?" Brenda replies, "oh, no, you're no where near ready for that - plus, I don't want you to hurt your back." So, I piped up and asked, "well what about my back?" She says, "oh, I don't care about your back." Come to think of it - she probably doesn't care about my back. I mean, I'm not a paying customer. I'm sure she cares alot about the backs and all the appendages of paying customers. But, me, I'm just a lowly 'ol fat peon she chose for her contest. I'm so glad I have thick skin (literally and figuratively speaking) and I don't get my feelings hurt very easily. By the way...pun inteded.
So, I start rolling this thing out - so scared that I'm going to fall flat on my face and the wheel of this...this thing - would leave a skid mark right down my forehead all the way to my chin and who wants to walk around like that? Not me. I already have to walk around with 500 extra unwanted pounds. I sure don't need a skid mark down my face bringing me extra attention. No sirree, I don't need that at all. But anyway, I was rolling it back and forth, back and forth about 9000 times and she said, "now I want you to roll it out and turn it to the side to work your obliques. You know, like your rolling out a pie crust. Which I know YOU know all about doing that." Then she laughed so hard. And I laughed so hard too because she was right - I do know alot about rolling out pie crust. Mmm. Pie crust. Flaky. Buttery. Goodness. I have to go now. I'm going to go do some sit-ups and think about pie crusts and fighting the fat.
So, I start rolling this thing out - so scared that I'm going to fall flat on my face and the wheel of this...this thing - would leave a skid mark right down my forehead all the way to my chin and who wants to walk around like that? Not me. I already have to walk around with 500 extra unwanted pounds. I sure don't need a skid mark down my face bringing me extra attention. No sirree, I don't need that at all. But anyway, I was rolling it back and forth, back and forth about 9000 times and she said, "now I want you to roll it out and turn it to the side to work your obliques. You know, like your rolling out a pie crust. Which I know YOU know all about doing that." Then she laughed so hard. And I laughed so hard too because she was right - I do know alot about rolling out pie crust. Mmm. Pie crust. Flaky. Buttery. Goodness. I have to go now. I'm going to go do some sit-ups and think about pie crusts and fighting the fat.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I'm bringing sexy back (Not)
For the record, sexy left this girl a long time ago. Sexy hasn't been seen in quite some time. Sexy packed up and left town. Sexy is GONE and I don't think Sexy is ever going to return. Sure, I've tried to write and call but Sexy never answers. Sexy ain't coming back to these parts. Oh, how I miss her.
I wore my new tight tank top for my grueling, relentless workout tonight. (Which was so NOT sexy) Oh, yes, I did and I even sported my new outfit on over to the soccer fields to drop off my two little hell-yuns at soccer practice. (only because I had to go workout not because I thought I looked good - just to be clear) And honestly, I felt and looked like a total jack-ass. Who do I think I am wearing a tight tank top and spandex capris? I don't think I'm anybody -that's who I think I am. I certainly don't look like an exerciser - I look like a two-ton Tilly trying to pull off an exerice outfit because my trainer thought it would be more motivating. Well, hell-yes it's more motivating. I look like one of those 300 pound girls you see at the Wal-mart thinking they are all that with their daisy dukes and muffin tops and more rolls than Pilsbury. God, I wish I had their confidence. Only, I KNOW I'm not all-that and I also KNOW I have more rolls than Pilsbury. Oh, I am fully aware. It was brutal having to watch all those bulges and rolls flopping around in the mirror at the gym while I sprinted on the treadmill, did up-downs on the step, jumping jacks, trainer-haters, mountain climbers, elliptical machines, more treadmills, jumping jacks, frog jumps, jumped rope, jumping jacks, suicides (which by th way is a really good name for that exercise because after doing 4 sets of those - I wanted to go sit in a garage with the car running and the garage door shut -- but there was no garage to park my car so I just had to go back in do more jumping jacks.) Then there were squats and lunges and more jumping rope and floor exercises - planks, sit-ups -throwing and catching a medicine ball while laying down then sitting up and throwing again, more planks, the roman chair, more sprinting, more ab exercises, donkey kicks, side kicks all for 2.5 hours. Did I mention the jumping jacks? Which, according to my heart rate monitor said I burned just over 1400 calories. I'm tired and I really miss french fries. Really and truly I do. There is no better food on earth. But now, me and my tight tank top are motivated so I can't have french fries - so now I'm tired and ticked. Plus, I have to get right up at 4:45 in the morning to do it all over again just so I can keep fighting the fat. Maybe, one day, sexy might answer - I doubt it but a girl can dream.
I wore my new tight tank top for my grueling, relentless workout tonight. (Which was so NOT sexy) Oh, yes, I did and I even sported my new outfit on over to the soccer fields to drop off my two little hell-yuns at soccer practice. (only because I had to go workout not because I thought I looked good - just to be clear) And honestly, I felt and looked like a total jack-ass. Who do I think I am wearing a tight tank top and spandex capris? I don't think I'm anybody -that's who I think I am. I certainly don't look like an exerciser - I look like a two-ton Tilly trying to pull off an exerice outfit because my trainer thought it would be more motivating. Well, hell-yes it's more motivating. I look like one of those 300 pound girls you see at the Wal-mart thinking they are all that with their daisy dukes and muffin tops and more rolls than Pilsbury. God, I wish I had their confidence. Only, I KNOW I'm not all-that and I also KNOW I have more rolls than Pilsbury. Oh, I am fully aware. It was brutal having to watch all those bulges and rolls flopping around in the mirror at the gym while I sprinted on the treadmill, did up-downs on the step, jumping jacks, trainer-haters, mountain climbers, elliptical machines, more treadmills, jumping jacks, frog jumps, jumped rope, jumping jacks, suicides (which by th way is a really good name for that exercise because after doing 4 sets of those - I wanted to go sit in a garage with the car running and the garage door shut -- but there was no garage to park my car so I just had to go back in do more jumping jacks.) Then there were squats and lunges and more jumping rope and floor exercises - planks, sit-ups -throwing and catching a medicine ball while laying down then sitting up and throwing again, more planks, the roman chair, more sprinting, more ab exercises, donkey kicks, side kicks all for 2.5 hours. Did I mention the jumping jacks? Which, according to my heart rate monitor said I burned just over 1400 calories. I'm tired and I really miss french fries. Really and truly I do. There is no better food on earth. But now, me and my tight tank top are motivated so I can't have french fries - so now I'm tired and ticked. Plus, I have to get right up at 4:45 in the morning to do it all over again just so I can keep fighting the fat. Maybe, one day, sexy might answer - I doubt it but a girl can dream.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
New Shirts
Once again, I had my pre-dawn workout and everything went great. But as I was leaving to take my one little hell-yun to school, all-business Brenda calls me. This is how the conversation goes:
Me:Hello
Brenda: Yeah, Kelli, Hi, um, this is Brenda. I need you to go out today and get you some tight fitting tank tops.
Me: Um, what-cho-talkin-bout, Willis?
Brenda: Well, I'm tired of you wearing these big and baggy t-shirts to work out in and I just think it will make you feel more motivated. Plus, you'll be uncomfortable.
Me: Um, ok, are you under the impression that I'm not motivated and that I all of a sudden feel like I'm skinny?
Brenda: Oh, no, I just think this will make you MORE motivated if it's tight -then we will be able to see better results. Then, you're not hiding under all those t-shirts.
Me: Oh, all-right but I just want to make sure you know that I'm not hiding under the t-shirts and I'm well aware of what morbidly obese looks like and I am fully aware that I fit that profile. So, tight shirt or not - I still know I'm fat. But, I will go get some tight tank tops.
Brenda: Ok, then BYE!
I hang up thoroughly confused and now anxious about my workout tomorrow for when I have to wear this tight tank-top and a little concered that I won't be able to breathe with this constricting fabric. Stay tuned for the update.
Just one more way I'm motivated to fight the fat.
Me:Hello
Brenda: Yeah, Kelli, Hi, um, this is Brenda. I need you to go out today and get you some tight fitting tank tops.
Me: Um, what-cho-talkin-bout, Willis?
Brenda: Well, I'm tired of you wearing these big and baggy t-shirts to work out in and I just think it will make you feel more motivated. Plus, you'll be uncomfortable.
Me: Um, ok, are you under the impression that I'm not motivated and that I all of a sudden feel like I'm skinny?
Brenda: Oh, no, I just think this will make you MORE motivated if it's tight -then we will be able to see better results. Then, you're not hiding under all those t-shirts.
Me: Oh, all-right but I just want to make sure you know that I'm not hiding under the t-shirts and I'm well aware of what morbidly obese looks like and I am fully aware that I fit that profile. So, tight shirt or not - I still know I'm fat. But, I will go get some tight tank tops.
Brenda: Ok, then BYE!
I hang up thoroughly confused and now anxious about my workout tomorrow for when I have to wear this tight tank-top and a little concered that I won't be able to breathe with this constricting fabric. Stay tuned for the update.
Just one more way I'm motivated to fight the fat.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Now, that's embarrassing
I keep thinking about yesterday's post. I keep thinking that I should be embarrassed by the fact that everyone now knows I started my menstrual flow and tht I need a tampon the size of a submarine torpedo missile. But really I'm not embarrassed about that. Is it weird that I don't get embarrassed that easily? I mean, I do get embarrassed if I trip when I'm out in public (which happens quite a bit-weird, I know) I could just be walking along somewhere like at the gym and not the gym that all-business Brenda owns (although I have tripped there too) But at the regular gym. The gym that I don't belong to. The gym that I don't pay any monthly dues at. The gym that I sometimes just show up to and say I'm a guest of so and so and they let me right on in to go take a spinning class. Yes, that gym. (Don't judge!) I tripped at that gym the other day as I was leaving and a group of high-school or college kids were walking through the door as I was leaving and I tripped...on NOTHING. That's right, I said I tripped on nothing. It was just that I didn't pick my feet up. I was likely just shuffling along because I was tired from said spinning class and was too lazy and tired to actually pick my feet up. Then I felt like a jack-ass because all the kids were staring at me and I just pretended to look down to try and find out what I tripped on...was it a rug? Nope. was it a rock that somehow got tracked in from someone's shoe? Nope. It was just the rubber sole of my shoe against the slick tile floor. At that moment, all I could think about was that Ellen DeGeneres stand-up routine when she talks about people who trip on nothing and then suddenly start jogging like they meant to start jogging at that exact moment then they get about 5 feet down the sidewalk and stop jogging and say, things like "and I'm jogging and now I'm good." Did you see that stand-up routine? If not, you should. It's really funny. But see, I'm not that quick. I didn't act like I was jogging right out of the gym. Not that I would have been fooling anyone. No, instead I just looked like a jack-ass that just tripped on nothing and there's no way to hide from it or to recover. So, instead I just let these punk-ass kids laugh at me and I laugh too because I'm sure it was really funny. I was also once humped by a dog. (not by choice) but that's another story for another time and that, my friends, was very embarrassing.
Monday, September 13, 2010
This one's a doozy - don't say I didn't warn you!
This is a doozy of a story so I hope you're ready. This may be a little bit too much information but that's just how I roll. I just lay it all out there. I'm an open book, what you see is what you get, keeping it real...you get my drift, right?
So this is how the story goes...I roll in to the gym this morning at o'dark hundred and get started on the treadmill (good God the dreaded treadmill). Well, I get about 1/2 way through the workout and I start feeling like crap, stomach cramps, my legs are like cement blocks trying to sprint but I have to stop every two minutes because I just can't go. Let me back up a sec, I've been feeling a little pms-y for a few days -- just gross and irritated and everyone bugs me. Plus, yesterday, I was so hungry I was ready to eat the ass off of a dead rhinoceros but instead I had 6 cheeto puffs. I haven't had one bad thing to eat since I started this whole biggest loser contest and I can't believe I blew it yesterday. Not once, have I had even a morsel of something I wasn't supposed to have - I mean nada, nothing, zilch. And then yesterday in a frenzy of hunger I see my two little hell-yuns eating some cheeto puffs and I tell you it looked like the best thing I'd ever seen. Now, you're probably thinking - it was only 6 little puffs what's the big deal? The big deal is that for people like me once I slip up -that's it -it feels like I've sabotaged the whole thing and that's the way all-business Brenda made me feel this morning. Like, I was the scum of the earth for eathing those puffs. She gave me the "this is a once in a lifetime opprtunity speech and you're getting $5000 of free training..." All the things I already know and am ready to smack myself across the face...and why you might be thinking why would I tell all-business Brenda about my slip-up because I'm an open book, telling it like it is, keeping it real that's why. I've got to go burn off some cheeto puffs - that's what I need to do - keep on fightin' this fat. Keep reading for the doozy story --it's coming up. Sorry I got off on a little tangent there but it is part of the story.
So as I was saying, I made it through half of the workout when all of a sudden I have got to go to the bathroom. Brenda hates it when I take a bathroom break (which is why she told me to get some adult diapers.) But I never did get those adult diapers -did she really think I was? So, I come out of the bathroom and quietly walk up to Brenda and say, "Um, I just started my period." (Secretly, I was hoping she would say oh, go on home and take care of your business.) But no, instead, she announces to the entire gym (ok, so there were only like 6 other people in the room but still 2 of them were men) "Oh, ok, do you need a tampon?" Me: "yes, Mrs. Brenda, that would be great." Brenda: "Allright, hold on, I got to go out to my car." She comes back in with this tiny, little ob tampon about the size of my pinkie (maybe even my pinkie toe) So, I said, "what the hell kind of tampon is this? This must be what the teenagers are using so they can be discreet when they don't want everyone and their brother to know they've started their period. But, I have a wide-set vagina and the only tampon that can help me is one that is the size of a submarine torpedo missile." She says, it's the high tech-kind -pull out the little thing but don't pull it out too far or you'll ruin the whole thing. You want me to come in there and demonstrate how it's done?" "Um, no thanks - I think I can handle it. But I don't think this is going to do one thing for me and my wide-set vagina." She says, "well then just line your panties with some paper towels and let's get movin." Meanwhile, the other 6 people in the gym are laughing hysterically at the two of us. After, I finish the rest of my workout and was getting ready to leave, I apologized to everyone for having to know ALL my business. These are just a few of the things I have to deal with while fighting the fat. See, I told you it was a doozy.
So this is how the story goes...I roll in to the gym this morning at o'dark hundred and get started on the treadmill (good God the dreaded treadmill). Well, I get about 1/2 way through the workout and I start feeling like crap, stomach cramps, my legs are like cement blocks trying to sprint but I have to stop every two minutes because I just can't go. Let me back up a sec, I've been feeling a little pms-y for a few days -- just gross and irritated and everyone bugs me. Plus, yesterday, I was so hungry I was ready to eat the ass off of a dead rhinoceros but instead I had 6 cheeto puffs. I haven't had one bad thing to eat since I started this whole biggest loser contest and I can't believe I blew it yesterday. Not once, have I had even a morsel of something I wasn't supposed to have - I mean nada, nothing, zilch. And then yesterday in a frenzy of hunger I see my two little hell-yuns eating some cheeto puffs and I tell you it looked like the best thing I'd ever seen. Now, you're probably thinking - it was only 6 little puffs what's the big deal? The big deal is that for people like me once I slip up -that's it -it feels like I've sabotaged the whole thing and that's the way all-business Brenda made me feel this morning. Like, I was the scum of the earth for eathing those puffs. She gave me the "this is a once in a lifetime opprtunity speech and you're getting $5000 of free training..." All the things I already know and am ready to smack myself across the face...and why you might be thinking why would I tell all-business Brenda about my slip-up because I'm an open book, telling it like it is, keeping it real that's why. I've got to go burn off some cheeto puffs - that's what I need to do - keep on fightin' this fat. Keep reading for the doozy story --it's coming up. Sorry I got off on a little tangent there but it is part of the story.
So as I was saying, I made it through half of the workout when all of a sudden I have got to go to the bathroom. Brenda hates it when I take a bathroom break (which is why she told me to get some adult diapers.) But I never did get those adult diapers -did she really think I was? So, I come out of the bathroom and quietly walk up to Brenda and say, "Um, I just started my period." (Secretly, I was hoping she would say oh, go on home and take care of your business.) But no, instead, she announces to the entire gym (ok, so there were only like 6 other people in the room but still 2 of them were men) "Oh, ok, do you need a tampon?" Me: "yes, Mrs. Brenda, that would be great." Brenda: "Allright, hold on, I got to go out to my car." She comes back in with this tiny, little ob tampon about the size of my pinkie (maybe even my pinkie toe) So, I said, "what the hell kind of tampon is this? This must be what the teenagers are using so they can be discreet when they don't want everyone and their brother to know they've started their period. But, I have a wide-set vagina and the only tampon that can help me is one that is the size of a submarine torpedo missile." She says, it's the high tech-kind -pull out the little thing but don't pull it out too far or you'll ruin the whole thing. You want me to come in there and demonstrate how it's done?" "Um, no thanks - I think I can handle it. But I don't think this is going to do one thing for me and my wide-set vagina." She says, "well then just line your panties with some paper towels and let's get movin." Meanwhile, the other 6 people in the gym are laughing hysterically at the two of us. After, I finish the rest of my workout and was getting ready to leave, I apologized to everyone for having to know ALL my business. These are just a few of the things I have to deal with while fighting the fat. See, I told you it was a doozy.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Chafing
I've noticed lately that my sports bra has started to feel a bit looser but I'm so cheap I really don't want to go out and buy anything until I'm done with this competition or I reach my goal. (Hey, I've lived with Patterstein for 13yrs - he's rubbed off -what can I say?) SO, last night after my grueling 2 hour workout, I noticed I was chafing under by bra line around my chest. I put a little neosporin on it and went to bed - no big deal. Well, this morning during the grueling workout the chafing go so bad that I now have open wounds right under my boobs - it hurts - BAD. So, I gave up and did the last hour of my workout with no bra on at all. Can I just say there is a reason we should wear bras during our workouts. I had to cup my big ol bosoms in my hands while running on the treadmill. Sprinting actually. You need your arms to help you while you are running. My ta-ta's were flopping all over the place and it was cold in the gym so now I have nipple burn to go along with my chafing. These are just a few of the things I have to go through to fight the fat. Moral of the story: Don't get fat and buy a sports bra that fits.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
GNC and protein
After my workout yesterday, Miss Brenda told me that she was going to change up my diet a bit and wanted me to start drinking a protein shake in the afternoon. She told me to go to GNC and get this one particular brand that she recommended since as she put it "my muscles are soft." (No, shit sherlock - I'm two ton Tilly - why do you think I'm here?) But, I just say, "yes ma'am - they are and I would drink blended up cockroaches if it's going to help make my muscles hard."
So off to the GNC store I go. I walk in and the dip-wad behind the counter asks if he can help me and I tell him what I'm looking for. Do you know what his response was? Let me tell you. He said, "oh, ok, are you buying this for someone else?" I replied, slightly stunned, "Um, well, I know what I look like and I know it doesn't look like I exercise but yes, it is for me - believe it or not." What? Did he think I was a personal shopper for someone just be-bopping in to buy my boss some protein? Then, he says, "well, what are your goals?" Um, what do you mean what are my goals? So, I say, "oh, Im really looking to bulk up - I just don't think I'm big enough, ya know?" (Dipshit) My goal is to lose 1000 lbs in 3 months - got any magic potion in here that can do that? Now, give me my damn protein and let me get gone. I've got some fat to fight.
So off to the GNC store I go. I walk in and the dip-wad behind the counter asks if he can help me and I tell him what I'm looking for. Do you know what his response was? Let me tell you. He said, "oh, ok, are you buying this for someone else?" I replied, slightly stunned, "Um, well, I know what I look like and I know it doesn't look like I exercise but yes, it is for me - believe it or not." What? Did he think I was a personal shopper for someone just be-bopping in to buy my boss some protein? Then, he says, "well, what are your goals?" Um, what do you mean what are my goals? So, I say, "oh, Im really looking to bulk up - I just don't think I'm big enough, ya know?" (Dipshit) My goal is to lose 1000 lbs in 3 months - got any magic potion in here that can do that? Now, give me my damn protein and let me get gone. I've got some fat to fight.
Biggest Loser Weigh-in
We (me and Rosemarie the other biggest loser competitor) completed our 1st 4 weeks of training. It was so hard but I must admit I have enjoyed it. It's funny, the cycle I get in because as most of you know, I'm either an all or nothing person. When you know you're making smart decisions about eating and in an exercise routine then you feel better about yourself and life in general. But when I'm on the other end of the spectrum, like a pig at a troth, then I feel generally crappy about myself and my world. So, I like this cycle that I'm on and hopefully, won't go back to the dark side.
On Saturday, August 28th we had our 1st weigh-in. I lost 20 lbs and 24 inches. Ok, so the paper says I lost 19 lbs but that's only because she made me weigh with my shoes on. But I did do an unofficial weigh-in with my shoes off and it was 20lbs. Plus, I like that number better anyway. Then, we had to take those God-awful pictures again and she posted them on her website. We were looking at the before and after pictures side by side and all-business Brenda and Rosemarie were oohing and aahing over the difference. But all I could think about was that Friends episode when Rachel and Ross were at the doctor's office for her 1st ultrasound of the baby and the doctor kept pointing out the different parts of the baby and Rachel acted like she could see the baby but once the doctor left she admitted to Ross that she couldn't see it. Did you see that episode? Well, that was me looking at the photos. I couldn't see any changes. Now, I know I am my own worst critic but seriously, can't see the changes. I can feel the changes but I don't see it. So, since I still have so far to go I'm going to keep fighting the fat.
On Saturday, August 28th we had our 1st weigh-in. I lost 20 lbs and 24 inches. Ok, so the paper says I lost 19 lbs but that's only because she made me weigh with my shoes on. But I did do an unofficial weigh-in with my shoes off and it was 20lbs. Plus, I like that number better anyway. Then, we had to take those God-awful pictures again and she posted them on her website. We were looking at the before and after pictures side by side and all-business Brenda and Rosemarie were oohing and aahing over the difference. But all I could think about was that Friends episode when Rachel and Ross were at the doctor's office for her 1st ultrasound of the baby and the doctor kept pointing out the different parts of the baby and Rachel acted like she could see the baby but once the doctor left she admitted to Ross that she couldn't see it. Did you see that episode? Well, that was me looking at the photos. I couldn't see any changes. Now, I know I am my own worst critic but seriously, can't see the changes. I can feel the changes but I don't see it. So, since I still have so far to go I'm going to keep fighting the fat.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Biggest Loser Monday 8/16
Today, my workout consisted of lifting weights, 1 hour on the treadmill (interval) sprinting for 1 minute with a 20 second break which is basically just enough break to bring your heart rate down just enough so it does not explode out of your chest. Then boxing (which I felt a little like Hillary Swank in Million Dollar Baby if only she were trapped inside the body of a fat chick instead of the rockin' body she had during that movie.) Then I finished off with 160 leg raises (actually I'm not sure what it's called but you lay on your back with your feet together up in the air and lower them to about 3 inches off the ground then lift them back up to a ninety degree angle.) I like to call them trainer haters but that's pretty much what I call all her exercises. All in all it was not a bad workout - my little gadget said I burned 1107 calories. Must keep fighting the fat!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Biggest Loser
I know, I know - I'm awful at this blogging thing. But it's all I can do to stay awake in the daytime after these torturous 2-3 hour workouts and then the rest of the day is focusing on what am I going to eat next and all the daily chores of running this household and taking care of my family. I will try to do better but can't make any promises.
It's been almost 3 weeks since I started my biggest loser competition and things are going well although I do not see the changes the way people tell me they see them. But aren't we all our own worst critics? Don't we all have that wicked voice in our heads saying...if only I looked this way or that way?
I also had some more pants that are falling off without unbuttoning them so I guess that's a good sign things are going in the right direction. I still am not getting on the scale unless she tells me to and I think I'm getting better at not worrying so much about the numbers (or at least that is what I'm trying to tell myself)
I did go out and buy a heartrate monitor the other day because it tells you how many calories you've burned during your workout as well as keeps up with your heartrate. It was hard for me to try to find my pulse and count the beats while huffing and puffing in between sets, ok? So see, I did really need this new little gadget. But during every workout it has said that I have burned between 875 - 1300 calories. Let me just say these are the toughest workouts I've ever experienced and makes me appreciate what the real biggest losers go through on tv. I've got a long way to go but I must keep on fighting the fat.
It's been almost 3 weeks since I started my biggest loser competition and things are going well although I do not see the changes the way people tell me they see them. But aren't we all our own worst critics? Don't we all have that wicked voice in our heads saying...if only I looked this way or that way?
I also had some more pants that are falling off without unbuttoning them so I guess that's a good sign things are going in the right direction. I still am not getting on the scale unless she tells me to and I think I'm getting better at not worrying so much about the numbers (or at least that is what I'm trying to tell myself)
I did go out and buy a heartrate monitor the other day because it tells you how many calories you've burned during your workout as well as keeps up with your heartrate. It was hard for me to try to find my pulse and count the beats while huffing and puffing in between sets, ok? So see, I did really need this new little gadget. But during every workout it has said that I have burned between 875 - 1300 calories. Let me just say these are the toughest workouts I've ever experienced and makes me appreciate what the real biggest losers go through on tv. I've got a long way to go but I must keep on fighting the fat.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Biggest Loser - Saturday Day 7
I survived the first week. Today, every body part aches. I feel like I've been hit by a truck. But I am so relieved to know that I have the day off tomorrow and don't have to see all-business Brenda until Monday at 5 am. We are not allowed to weigh ourselves but once a month unless Brenda weighs us at the gym. Well, when I'm doing all the right things like eating right and working out like a maniac; I love to weigh myself. I like seeing the numbers go down although I can be a head case about it and I do know I can be slightly neurotic about it. Since, G-Pat knows this about me he took it upon himself to hide the scale. I can't find it anywhere. But today, I went to my neighbor's house and used hers. (I'm resourceful, ok?) Down 7 lbs in one week. Yes, I know it's all water weight but pounds lost is pounds lost, I always say - I don't care what form they come in. So see, I can weigh myself and not be neurotic. All that does for me is make me want to keep on fighting the fat.
I need a nap.
I need a nap.
Biggest Loser - Thursday/Friday
I anticipated going to the gym all day. Thursdays are the day that I work out at night. So, thinking about it all day was torturous. I like being there in the morning, getting it over with and having the rest of the day trying to muster up what little energy I have to focus on all the things I need to get done. (which by the way, has not been happening lately)
She had us do 100 jumping jacks and after I really had to go to the bathroom. Well, all-business Brenda got a little ticked at me and said "we don't have time for bathroom breaks here. You should have taken care of that before you got here." I said, "I did take care of it beforehand but all that jumping makes jack have to pee." So, she says, "then you are just going to have to get you some adult diapers." This is what I mean when I say ALL-BUSINESS BRENDA.
On Friday morning, I was running on the treadmill and my new workout pants were way too big and kept falling down. I mean falling down so much that they were hanging down around my lower butt cheeks. So, I kept adjusting, trying to hold them up while I ran but nothing was working. I paused on my treadmill and tried to roll them up around the waist and Miss Brenda noticed and said, "what's wrong - are your pants falling down?" I said, "yes, I can't keep them up." Miss Brenda replies, "well that's nice but keep running and I don't care if you have to just run in your panties but you need to just keep moving." Ya'll might be thinking that I just took my pants off and ran in just my panties but no I could not because then I be the Firestarter again and that just won't work. But if I ever get to the day where my thighs don't rub together then I guarantee I would happily run in panties. But until then I just have to keep fighting the fat.
She had us do 100 jumping jacks and after I really had to go to the bathroom. Well, all-business Brenda got a little ticked at me and said "we don't have time for bathroom breaks here. You should have taken care of that before you got here." I said, "I did take care of it beforehand but all that jumping makes jack have to pee." So, she says, "then you are just going to have to get you some adult diapers." This is what I mean when I say ALL-BUSINESS BRENDA.
On Friday morning, I was running on the treadmill and my new workout pants were way too big and kept falling down. I mean falling down so much that they were hanging down around my lower butt cheeks. So, I kept adjusting, trying to hold them up while I ran but nothing was working. I paused on my treadmill and tried to roll them up around the waist and Miss Brenda noticed and said, "what's wrong - are your pants falling down?" I said, "yes, I can't keep them up." Miss Brenda replies, "well that's nice but keep running and I don't care if you have to just run in your panties but you need to just keep moving." Ya'll might be thinking that I just took my pants off and ran in just my panties but no I could not because then I be the Firestarter again and that just won't work. But if I ever get to the day where my thighs don't rub together then I guarantee I would happily run in panties. But until then I just have to keep fighting the fat.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Biggest loser - Tuesday & Wednesday
It was so nice not having to get up at the crack of dawn on Tuesday morning. This was my day to work out on my own. Since Greg is so concerned about me getting injured; he does not want me on the treadmill or doing anything on my feet. Which if you know Greg this is typical because he always wants me either on my back or my knees. (Just kidding- what? It was wide open.) But given my past history with injuries I figured he was right. So, I went to Big 5 and bought a water aerobics kit for $39.99. Now, I can just hop in the pool in the back yard and jog in the water all I want--all without touching the ground which makes G-Pat so happy. If I just had some blue hair, I'd fit right in with those ladies down at the community center. You know the kind. But I do have to say, Wednesday morning my arms were fealing a little sore from my water dumbells. (don't think I can't hear ya'll laughing at me)
Wednesday came all too soon and was back at the gym with Miss Brenda- I had told her about some of the recipes I've been using & she said she thought they sounded great and that I should bring in copies for RoseMarie (my competition) to help her out. Um, all-business-brenda say what? This is not a team effort - I'm not helping anyone out - she can find her own damn recipes just like I did. But I didn't say that, I said oh, sure -I will TRY to remember to do that. (emphasis on TRY) (NOT!)I'm fighting my own fat here not hers.
Wednesday came all too soon and was back at the gym with Miss Brenda- I had told her about some of the recipes I've been using & she said she thought they sounded great and that I should bring in copies for RoseMarie (my competition) to help her out. Um, all-business-brenda say what? This is not a team effort - I'm not helping anyone out - she can find her own damn recipes just like I did. But I didn't say that, I said oh, sure -I will TRY to remember to do that. (emphasis on TRY) (NOT!)I'm fighting my own fat here not hers.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Biggest Loser 7-26-10
The alarm clock rang at 4:50 am and I rolled out of bed to go meet all-business Brenda. I won't bore you with all the exercises I did but let me just say that my new black, biggest loser t-shirt (courtesy of Miss Brenda) was drenched. Seriously, I rang it out. Towards the end of my 2 hour workout this morning, all-business-Brenda said, "aren't you tired yet, Kelli? I said, "Are you kiddin'? Don't I look tired?" She replied, "actually, no you don't you look like you could go all day." I said, "that's just my bulldog on a bone determination." All I was thinking, was man, do I have her fooled. Then she had me do 800 crunches. Yes, that's right, I said 800. My abs are still on fire - 3 hours later. I hope I can get out of bed tomorrow. But today, I will fight my fat.
Biggest Loser - Saturday 7-24-10
I had to go meet with Brenda on Saturday morning for my official 1st workout and pictures that will be sent to the paper. She told me beforehand to wear black running shorts and black sports bra. Well, you may not know this but it is tough to find plus size running shorts. Most plus-size women do not run hence there is no need for these type of running shorts. But I found some online and paid extra shipping to make sure I had because I wanted to show her I was prepared. But when I received my package in the mail I received a 40 G bra instead of the black running shorts I ordered. A 40 G bra does not help me in this situation - I'm pretty sure I couldn't have fit my big ass cheeks into the cups of a 40 G bra. Not to mention how uncomfortable it would be with the snaps right at my hoo-hoo. So off to good 'ol Wal-mart I go to find something I can squeeze into. Well, they had some of these shorts there but they were a little too much like daisy dukes so I bought some slightly longer bike shorts to wear underneath. So when I got to the gym for my workout, Brenda says, "You're funny Kelli, why do have all that on?" I said, "Well you told me that we'd be working out today and I figured you were going to have me on the treadmill and I knew that if I didn't have on something underneath these daisy dukes there would be so much friction between my thighs that I'm liable to start a fire in here." This, my friends, is why I have to fight the fat.
The Biggest Loser
About a month ago my dear friend April was visiting over Father's Day weekend. I told her that I found an article in the paper for a local contest for the Biggest Loser and that I was going to try out. I downloaded the application, wrote my essay where I was trying to sound sweet but funny so I would get chosen. I wrote of my determination and how when I set my mind to something I'm like a "bulldog on a bone." For me, it's just how to get to that place of determination and staying there. Then, April took some God awful pictures of me in nothing but a sports bra and shorts. I'm pretty sure I vomited in my mouth when I saw these pictures as I'm sure April did too. But I mailed it all in and surprise, surprise but I got picked to be a contestant. I get 4 months of personal training and nutritional advice and I work out with Brenda (my trainer-picture Jillian on Biggest Loser but with blonde hair, bigger boobs but same type of rockin' body) 5 days a week for 2-3 hrs per day. The winner (whoever loses the most inches) wins 2 extra months of training for free. Did I mention that all of this is going to be in the local newspaper and possibly have to do some tv interviews. Yes, that's right these God forsaken pictures will be in the paper for everyone to see with my weight and all my inches. Trust me, I have alot of inches. But I don't know anyone here anyway and I don't think that when people do meet me they think..."Gosh, Kelli - really you weigh 235lbs? I am shocked I truly thought you must be a size 4." That I can tell you does NOT happen. So, for today I am going to keep on fighting my fat.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
You know you're fat when...
I know it's been a while since I blogged but have had a crazy month. Went to Denver for 2 weeks and by the way, went off and left the HCG shots in the fridge. So, I screwed that up and to make me feel better about messing up the diet I ate Caramel Bugles and Chick-fil-A and said f*&$ it all while I'm on vacation. Have you tried Caramel Bugles yet, well don't because it is heaven in a bag. The perfect blend of sweet and salty. Who knew a triangle could hold so much goodness? I sure did not!
I went to the mall a while back and while walking (at a decent pace, so I thought) I sensed someone behind me tailgating. I glanced back and it was a man and woman "mall-walking." You know the type: elderly, heavy set, dark socks, ugly SAS brand shoes, and the dead give-away that you're a mall-walker: the fanny pack. Anyway, Grandma & Grandpa Moses were totally riding my ass so I sped up thinking I could put a little distance between us but no they sped right up to. Well, I could not keep up that pace as I was sure I was going to get a side stitch. I conceded my defeat and let them pass. I was going to say, "back off a bit, why don't ya" but couldn't get enough oxygen to my brain to form the words. The worst part about it was that Grandpa had a cane and a limp. That, my friends, is a dead give-away that you're fat. Seriously, I'm afraid if I walk backwards...my ass is going to start beeping. So, it's time to get back on the "fight the fat" train. TOOT! TOOT!
I went to the mall a while back and while walking (at a decent pace, so I thought) I sensed someone behind me tailgating. I glanced back and it was a man and woman "mall-walking." You know the type: elderly, heavy set, dark socks, ugly SAS brand shoes, and the dead give-away that you're a mall-walker: the fanny pack. Anyway, Grandma & Grandpa Moses were totally riding my ass so I sped up thinking I could put a little distance between us but no they sped right up to. Well, I could not keep up that pace as I was sure I was going to get a side stitch. I conceded my defeat and let them pass. I was going to say, "back off a bit, why don't ya" but couldn't get enough oxygen to my brain to form the words. The worst part about it was that Grandpa had a cane and a limp. That, my friends, is a dead give-away that you're fat. Seriously, I'm afraid if I walk backwards...my ass is going to start beeping. So, it's time to get back on the "fight the fat" train. TOOT! TOOT!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Wal-mart Trip
I went to Wal-mart today to get a few things for our road trip to Denver. We leave tomorrow and I wanted to get the kids some snacks and a couple of new movies. I glanced through the clearance rack and found a pair of comfy pants I thought I would like to wear on this hellish drive in which I am about to embark.
I am not sure what it is about me but for some reason I have this uncanny ability to get someone's entire life story in about 2 minutes or less. Whether I want to know the story or not people just want to tell me. I am not sure if it is a blessing or a curse. No one else I know has this ability. So, while I was in the express lane (20 items or less) Jerry, the senior checker says to me. (No, I'm not lying and no I'm not kidding-you can't make this kind of thing up)
Jerry: As I was scanning your items, I noticed the size of your pants & it made me think about how I've lost 50 lbs.
Me (slightly stunned):Really? What are you doing?
Jerry:Nothing, dr.s don't know but I was 212lbs and now I'm 160lbs. They think it's just stress all my bloodwork has come back normal
Me:Well, I just moved here & have been feeling really stressed but I keep gaining weight.
Jerry:Well, some people lose weight when they're stressed and some people gain. You're built kinda like my wife & she's lost 24lbs.
Me:Wow, that's great what is she doing to lose weight?
Jerry: Nothing, really but she does get an upset stomach quite a bit & spends alot of time in the bathroom.
Then he went on to tell me how long he's lived in the Phoenix area, where he's from (kentucky-in case any of you were wondering) and how he loves the south & has visited Mississippi twice. (He noticed my accent & asked where I was from) Then to sum up again he says, "like I said, I just noticed your pants size and it made me think of it. Hope you like it here...have a nice day."
Me: You too, Jerry - I will try. Although, now Jerry has just made me want go home, watch Old Yeller and eat Blue Bell Ice cream. How am I ever going to be anorexic with comments like these from the seniors at Wal-mart? Seriously?Now, like I said I found out how long Jerry has lived in Phoenix, how much weight he AND his wife have lost (without even trying), his wife's gastro-intestinal problems, where he was from and that he has visited my home state twice all in the express line in under 2 minutes. You tell me, is it a blessing or a curse? So fo today, I'm not going to let sweet Jerry's comments bother me and I'm going to stay away from the freezer and continue to fight the fat.
I am not sure what it is about me but for some reason I have this uncanny ability to get someone's entire life story in about 2 minutes or less. Whether I want to know the story or not people just want to tell me. I am not sure if it is a blessing or a curse. No one else I know has this ability. So, while I was in the express lane (20 items or less) Jerry, the senior checker says to me. (No, I'm not lying and no I'm not kidding-you can't make this kind of thing up)
Jerry: As I was scanning your items, I noticed the size of your pants & it made me think about how I've lost 50 lbs.
Me (slightly stunned):Really? What are you doing?
Jerry:Nothing, dr.s don't know but I was 212lbs and now I'm 160lbs. They think it's just stress all my bloodwork has come back normal
Me:Well, I just moved here & have been feeling really stressed but I keep gaining weight.
Jerry:Well, some people lose weight when they're stressed and some people gain. You're built kinda like my wife & she's lost 24lbs.
Me:Wow, that's great what is she doing to lose weight?
Jerry: Nothing, really but she does get an upset stomach quite a bit & spends alot of time in the bathroom.
Then he went on to tell me how long he's lived in the Phoenix area, where he's from (kentucky-in case any of you were wondering) and how he loves the south & has visited Mississippi twice. (He noticed my accent & asked where I was from) Then to sum up again he says, "like I said, I just noticed your pants size and it made me think of it. Hope you like it here...have a nice day."
Me: You too, Jerry - I will try. Although, now Jerry has just made me want go home, watch Old Yeller and eat Blue Bell Ice cream. How am I ever going to be anorexic with comments like these from the seniors at Wal-mart? Seriously?Now, like I said I found out how long Jerry has lived in Phoenix, how much weight he AND his wife have lost (without even trying), his wife's gastro-intestinal problems, where he was from and that he has visited my home state twice all in the express line in under 2 minutes. You tell me, is it a blessing or a curse? So fo today, I'm not going to let sweet Jerry's comments bother me and I'm going to stay away from the freezer and continue to fight the fat.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Eating Disorders
Let me start this blog off with yes, we do like it here, the weather has been great, we love our new house and neighborhood..blah,blah,blah. I have met some really great girls that I am now fortunate enough to call my friends. However, some people here I feel, just don't "get" me. And, I need to be "gotten." So, this post goes out to all my peeps who have known me for a long time and appreciate my sense of humor. Because I'm finding out there are people who don't. One day, I was talking to this mom here about my eating disorder. It's a spectrum, people, ok?. There are people who don't eat at all, people who gorge themselves then puke, people who have a good balance of food in their life and people like me, who have no balance or control when it comes to food and don't have the guts to purge it out. Pun intended, by the way. Anyway, so I was explaining to this woman that some days, I think it would be great to be on the other end of the eating disorder spectrum. You know just as a jump start to my weight loss goals. "You mean, like anorexia?" She says. "Honey, straight from your mouth to God's ears." I say half jokingly. Well, apparently she did not think this was humorous at all and felt the need to give me a 2 hour dissertation on the seriousness of eating disorders. I was kiddin'. Sort of. See, some people just don't get me.
**As a disclaimer, I know eating disorders are very serious and deadly and in no way, shape or form endorse anyone wanting or having such a disorder. (Except me)
**As a disclaimer, I know eating disorders are very serious and deadly and in no way, shape or form endorse anyone wanting or having such a disorder. (Except me)
HCG Day 5
Another one bites the dust...one more pound gone. I feel like I could be on the biggest loser. I might have a double digit week. I've never had a double digit week before. I thoght today, I would write about stress. I think stress is a big part of why I have gained back most of the weight I lost while I was working out with Korbie and Miranda. (Korbie-the biggest man (bodybuilder) I've ever seen and Miranda, his 5 foot 1 girlfriend with the body built like a brick shit-house and the one woman I've considered possibly turning lesbian for. I lost 70 lbs while working out with them and really never felt better. But have put most of the weight back on since last July. That is when all the stress began. Last July, I tore my achilles tendon while exercising which put me out of commission for 8 weeks. In September, went back to Mississippi because my grandfather was very ill and put on hospice. Came back from that trip to find out my husband was offered a job in Phoenix and that we were moving. He moved 2 weeks later, I was home putting the house up for sale, managing the kids, buying a home in AZ, etc. Then our 13 yr old Lab had to be put down, we moved 5 days before Christmas, my grandfather passed away, we became victims of identity theft, ran over the cactus next to our driveway (twice) had to replace 2 tires, (who the hell puts 3 barrel cactuses right next to the drivesay?)kitchen faucet broke, etc, etc. I realize my problems are NOTHING compared to what some people endure. In fact, I'd be willing to bet most people would love to have our "problems." I get it. Believe me. But it is stress, none the less. So, stress and the fact that I've eaten at every drive-thru in the east valley. But WWWWHHHYYYYY? I want to know why? I'm just so mad. I want to hit something. (Anyone, anyone? know that movie?) So while, I figure out the WHY I did this to myself, today, I'm going to fight the fat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
