Failure, or Success?

For those of you that read my blog - I am sure you are used to me by now and how my posts normally go. I don't think this is going to be a normal post. While I can't promise not to ramble, I promise not to give every detail of every day since my last post.

One side of me is in a phenomenal place right now. The other side is not. Since the kids have started back to school, I have found it increasingly more difficult to find the time to exercise. I plan to go to the gym. I really do. And then something comes up, and I don't get to go. If it's not one thing, it's another. Soccer practice, piano, doctor appointments, dentist appointments - and everything is always a surprise. It's extremely difficult as we only have one vehicle. Matt used to be able to use his work truck for little trips here and there. But they have changed the rules on that. Now once the truck is home - it's not going anywhere. It's beyond frustrating to plan something all day long, and 5 minutes before you are supposed to do it, it get's tossed out the window. I always thing of the quote "The lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine". As a parent - that is not the case. Your kids come first - no matter what. So I have adapted.

I have a new found dedication that surprised even me. I have a contingency plan for days that life gets crazy. I started walking at work. I wear my pedometer every day. If I go outside for my break, I take the stairs. All 10 flights of them. I started parking my car farther away in the garage. Now, I have to climb 3 flights of stairs - just to get to ground level in the parking lot. I walk for 30 minutes every day on my lunch. I try to hit 10k steps each and every day. I have been drinking water like it's my job. So much that I was accused of having an eating disorder AND trying to drown myself. What I don't think some of these people understand is, I'm not drinking any more than I should be. Using the simplest calculation possible - (1/2 of your body weight = how many oz to drink) puts me at almost 110 oz of water per day. Then add in coffee, and exercise, and the number gets higher and higher. And I've met that goal every day. I have logged into MFP everyday. I figured that doing these little things everyday would help on the days when life is too crazy to fit the gym in. At least I did something, right?

With that, came this sense of self confidence. I am starting to feel good in some of the clothes I have. I don't spend my entire time obsessing over the way that I am sitting, or standing, what fat rolls are hanging out where, or what other people are thinking of me. I feel better about myself in front of Matt. Some days I look in the mirror, and I see the progress I have been longing for. Sometimes I put my favorite pair of work pants on, and realize they feel just a bit more loose than they did last time. Then I try to remember if I have already worn them one day, or if they are fresh out of the laundry. Then I realize I am wearing the same pair of pants to work everyday that I was wearing a year ago. And then the sense of failure begins creeping in the back of my head. There has been ZERO change. In a year. And I am ready to quit. Then there is C25k - which has been great in so many ways. But I am beginning to hate it.

Earlier this month, the week of the 5th through the 11th, was supposed to be Week 4 for me. Long story short - It's 4 weeks later, and I am still on Week 5. Don't get me wrong with that statement. I have been running. I have just not made any progress. I did Week 4 a second time, and have spent the last 2 weeks trying to complete Week 5. I have not been successful. At all. I have this weird block on myself that I can't seem to get past. I find that I am giving up on myself when I have barely started. And my fear grows with each workout I attempt and fail. Each time I fail, it proves more and more that I cannot do this. Last night, the crazy schedule creeped up on me again. I had planned on going to the gym, and at the last minute - plans changed. For all of about 3 minutes, I had myself talked out of running at all. But as I was explaining to Matt why I couldn't work out, I noticed I was gathering up my running gear, and getting dressed. I decided to just run at home around the neighborhood. I grabbed Harley and her leash, and before I knew it, I was gone. I was talking to myself. Out Loud. You CAN do this. You CAN do this! I did my warm up walk, and started running. And lasted about 3 minutes. I walked for about 15 seconds, then talked myself into running again. I lasted maybe a minute that time. MAYBE.

I was blaming everything. It's because it's too hot out. It's because Harley keeps running in front of me. It's because my left calf muscle is on FIRE right now. It's because this hill is just too fucking hard. I switched to Day 2 mid-workout. THAT didn't work either. Again, I made it about 3 minutes before I stopped. I sabotaged myself on that one. I was calling myself names. I was a cheater. I was a quitter. I was making excuses. I was lying to myself thinking that I, the Fat Girl, would ever be able to run. I walked home with my dog with tears streaming down my cheeks. I stretched that Left calf muscle out, jumped in the shower, and we were out the door 10 minutes later. I was depressed. I was angry. But most of all, I was disappointed in myself. I was ashamed.

I finally talked to Matt about it last night. He had some really good thoughts that I need to try to keep in mind. He told me that while I may be a failure in my own eyes, I am a success in his. He said that I have defeated myself every run in the last 4 weeks - and I see not being able to complete the runs as failure. But after each failure, I put my shoes back on, and try again the next day. He explained that not being able to finish is not failure. To be beaten 12 times, and to still get back out there every day and try again, is success. To be beaten 12 times, and quit - THAT is failure. He told me that I was an example for him and our kids that if you want something, you don't give up. You keep trying.

I may not be running 20 minutes every day - but I am TRYING to run 20 minutes every day. That in itself is more than I used to do. This is just me. No one else is telling me to do this. No one else is telling me to lose weight, or to go running, or to lift weights. I have made a decision about my life, and I have stuck with it. I am eating better than I ever have. I am more conscious of my health and my body than I ever have been. To do what we do every day takes a lot of physical and mental strength, time, dedication, and discipline.

Each time I take the stairs instead of the elevator is a success.

Each time I grab a piece of fruit, instead of the bag of chips, is a success.

Each time I drink water instead of a Mt. Dew is a success.

Each time I set a goal, and achieve it, is a success.

And each time I put on my running shoes and try again, is a success. Regardless of the outcome.

And damnnit - I am going to be successful again today.

Love - The Fat Girl

Meh.

I’m having a weird day.  I have gotten so many compliments over the last few weeks – and from people I’d never expect (i.e., Matt's ex, Donna).  “Wow, you’ve lost a lot of weight!  What are you doing?”  And I tell them, I’ve been running 3x a week, and I watch what I eat.  Simple as that.  Easy Peasy. 

Except…  I’m not.  Well, kinda.  Arrrggg!  I don’t know!

I DO run 3 times a week, for the most part.  I’ve had a few weeks where I was off a day or two because of all the other crap going on in my life.  If I miss a day – I don’t beat myself up about it.  Unless you are today.  Then I’m beating the crap out of you, because I am in a shit mood for some reason.  Maybe because I was supposed to run last night, and didn’t. 

My diet is what is killing me.  First, I’ve been slacking on tracking what I eat.  I have been logging onto MFP every day, but I have not logged one calorie I have put in my mouth since last week.  Why?  I don’t know.  I’m fat and lazy I guess.  Second – I have not been eating the way I should.  It’s not that I am doing BAD – it’s just not GOOD.  I have been drinking Mt. Dew again.  I have been eating chips again.  I have been sneaking treats late at night.  And I mean SNEAKING.  Why?  I don’t know!  I’m the only one that cares, so I don’t know why I am hiding it from everyone else.  I guess I am trying to pretend it’s not happening.  It’s not that I am binging on junk food, because I’m not.  But I am picking up the wrong snacks.  What used to be an apple, is now a handful of Dorito’s. 

Mother.  Fucker. 

Now – let me explain why I am in my I don’t know how I feel shitty ass mood.  Yes, I have been getting compliments.  Yes, people have noticed that I have lost weight.  Yes, people are asking how I have been successful.  And yes, I am making bad food choices, and making excuses when I don’t get my workout in.  What scares me is the sense of complacency I have.  I’m eating Dorito’s and drinking Mt. Dew, and still getting complimented.  In my head – my inner fat kid is rejoicing.  People think I’m skinny!!!  The Dorito’s aren’t killing me!  Yay!  SO – I begin to let things slip a bit.  Instead of Dorito’s being an occasional treat – it becomes and every night thing.  I eat GREAT all day, and 10pm rolls around, and I feel like I’ve don’t so good all day, I can have whatever I want, and It won’t matter.  And 10 pounds from now, I am gonna be like – where in the hell did THOSE pounds come from.  OH yeah, the Dorito’s I started eating every night because someone told me I looked like I was losing weight! 

This is an EVERY DAY mental struggle for me.  I make excuses so that I can go back to my old ways.  I am on some kind of weird teeter totter where one second, I get complimented, and I can feel the pride swell inside me.  I smile.  I stand up a little straighter.  I hold my shoulders back, and walk tall – straight to a mirror.  And the fat girl is looking back at me - and I totter.  I don’t see the change.  I haven’t been on a scale, so I don’t know for sure, but I don’t see it.  My clothes aren’t fitting any different.  I’m still in the same size I was in months ago.  I don’t think I’ve lost anything in months.  And now, the bag ‘O Dortio’s is looking pretty good. 

This cycle has got to stop.  I need to get back on track – just a little bit at a time.  I have made a small list of goals for myself to get back to what used to be an everyday habit for me.  And I need help.  I NEED someone to jump my ass when ONE thing on this list doesn’t get checked off every day. 

1.)    I need to drink at LEAST 8 glasses of water.  Every day.  Period. 

2.)    I need to put down the Mt. Dew. Period. 

3.)    I need to track my calories – EVERY.  DAY. 

4.)    I can only have a piece of fruit or a protein shake after 9 pm. 

5.)    I need to start making my own coffee at work again, instead of stopping at the gas station in the mornings (save money, less coffee creamer...).

6.)    I need to get my run in 3 times a week, and lift 3 times a week***

7.)    I am going to start walking at work.  I get two 15 minute breaks, and one 30 minute break every day.  I will spend at least 30 minutes walking every day at work. 
8.)  Get to ONEderland by the time we set sail on our cruise... 95 days to lose 20(ish) pounds.  Again, I haven't been on the scale in a while, and I will NOT get on it until the day we set sail.  I just hope when I do, the first number will be a 1. 

Those are the goals.  One thing I do need help with – the *** after number 6.  I have been finding it extremely hard to find time to do NROLFW.  I know I need to do deadlifts and squats.   But I need to work on my stomach and my arms.  For those that do an “Ab Day” or “Back and Arms” day – what exercises are you doing?  I need to write down a routine, and stick to it.  Any suggestions would be welcome! 

Sorry for how long this was.  I am just really struggling today, and I needed to use my fingers to type instead of shoveling food into my mouth.  Now… where did I leave that bag of Dorito’s?

I need to throw it away.  J

Time to play Catch Up....

... and update you all on what has been going on.  As you all know, I have been doing this C25k program for a while.  I have been faithful at times, and other times, not so much.  So a few weeks ago, I said forget it, and started back at Day 1 so that I could try to track my progress a little better.  Madie asked if she could run with me one night.  While we were out, we were talking about why we run.  I told her I was doing it to help me get into shape.  She asked if I was planning on running a 5 K when I “graduate” C25k.  And so it began.  I started looking online to try to find a 5k that would be fun for her and I to do together.  And I found The Color Run.  And I was devastated, because all of the races around here (Lexington, Louisville, Columbus, Indy, etc.) were all sold out.  I registered my email for notifications for new races, and all but forgot about it. 

About a week later, I received a notification.  The had added a race in Cincinnati!  I was so stoked.  I signed Madie and myself up, RIGHT AWAY.  I didn’t want to chance that it might sell out.  When I got home that evening, I had it all planned out how I was going to tell Madie.  They had a promo video on their website, and I was just going to show her the video, then tell her when it was over.  Donna had picked the kids up, and brought them over to the house.  She asked Matt if she could keep them that night, and we agreed.  But I told her I had something to show Madie before they left.  I was so excited, I couldn’t wait.  When the video came on, her face completely lit up.  She asked if we were doing it, and when I nodded, she was in tears she was so excited.  And I completely lost my high on the next words that came out of her mouth.  “Can Mommy do it with us?”  What was I supposed to say, NO?  I felt like an ass.  I don’t want Donna coming, but I don’t want Madie to know that.  I do my best to shield her from Donna and I’s drama.  So I said sure. 

Later that night, I got a text from Donna asking if I was really okay with this.  By that time I had thought about it.  This would be a good opportunity for Madie to see that Donna and I are getting along.  For Madie to spend time with both of us, without making the other one feel bad.  For the three of us to spend some time together, just us girls.  So again, I said, yes it was fine. 

Fast forward two weeks.  This past weekend - we went on a weekend trip to Dale Hollow to go boating with two other couples. I should mention that both of the other females are STICK thin, even after having kids. I was more than a little nervous to get into a bathing suit in front of them. On a last minute whim, I bought a two piece swimsuit. I am still a long way off from my goal weight, but in a strange way, I felt more comfortable in the two piece than in my grandma's hide everything ya got suit. Our first full day out on the water, we stopped at one of the docks on the lake. They had an ice cream stand, which I wanted, but passed up. Then I overheard two women talking about me... "Would YOU wear that out in public?!?" "Oh HELL NO." I watched them stare at me, then pretend to look away when they realized I was watching them.

For the first time in my life, I spoke up. I turned around and said "Do you feel better about yourself, for tearing me down? Yes, I am still a little overweight. But in the last year I have lost 70 pounds - and I have EARNED the right to wear what I want. Thank you for making me feel bad about myself, after all the hard work I have put in." Then I went and got my ice cream.

Two things happened in that moment. First... Did I need the ice cream, no. But I realized, ONE scoop in a year isn't going to kill me. So I treated my fat ass to a single scoop while wearing the first bikini I have put on in YEARS. Two... I used to let things like this destroy me. I would decide that if one person looked at me that way, then everyone was looking at me that way. Not anymore. These chicks don't know me, or know where I have been or what I have accomplished.  NOW they motivate me to work that much harder. And next year, those bitches will be wondering what I do to make my body look THAT good. And I never forget a face. Maybe I will be a bigger person than you were and keep my mouth shut. OR, maybe I will call YOU fat and try to ruin YOUR weekend. Karma is a Bitch, and so are you. 

So after my big NSV (a Non Scale Victory) this weekend, I was feeling pretty high.  We got the kids back Sunday night when we got home.  I spent a while talking to Madie.  We were just chit-chatting when she filled me in on the latest news.  Donna signed up for the Color Run.  And so did her BFF Heather, and the BFF’s daughter, Caitlyn.  Madie was so excited Caitlyn was doing it too.  So I smiled, and changed the subject.  On the inside, I was SICK. 

I am sure that some of you will not understand my side of this, or will think I am over reacting, but I am PISSED.  I did the research.  I found the race.  I signed up and paid mine and Madie’s registration fees.  It cost me about $100 to pay for just her and I.  I gave Madie my old iPod.  I made her a playlist.  I downloaded the C25k app for her and showed her how to use it, so she can train when she’s at Mommy’s or Grandma’s or whoevers.  I did all the work.  During my planning, I never thought of Donna.  But I agreed to that.  Is it the ideal way I had imagined this going?  NO, but I can make that work.  Secretly I was hoping that by the time Donna tried to sign up, they would be sold out.  Originally I had thought this would be something for Madie and I to do together.  Now this has turned into Donna and her daughter, with her best friend and her daughter.  And, Oh Hi,  It’s me.  I’m over here.  How did I end up the odd man out when I planned the whole fucking thing?  I have met Heather once or twice – but I don’t know her.  Madie is going to be too busy playing with her friend to even pay attention to me.  What in the hell would Donna, Heather and I talk about?  I’m NOT friends with you two bitches.  I feel like Carrie.  I just got invited to the prom, just so they can throw pigs blood on me.  And I am so livid, I am about to burn this fucker down. 

I am not going to say a word.  I am going to show up on the day of the race, and if Heather and Caitlyn are there – I will dip out.  I will run in the race, but I am not doing it with them.  I didn’t pay all this money, and train my ass off for this, to feel awkward and out of place all day.  I will find some of my MFP friends, or someone else I know, and run with them.  I refuse to let her ruin MY day.  I am just super discouraged. I was excited to run with my little one. To see her little face when she gets doused with color at the first K. To see her excitement when she finishes. To see the explosion of color at the end of the race. And I feel like I have been cheated out of that. I will still participate. And I will find friends to run with. But I was more excited for her than I was for me.  Which is why I won’t ruin her day.  Madie is excited to have her Mommy, and Heather, and Caitlyn do this with her.  I wouldn’t take that away from her now.  But that doesn’t mean I have to be a part of it.  And I won’t be. 

I will just run away.  I am, after all, a runner now.  Just finished Week 3, Day 2 last night (for the umpteenth time).  I am down another 6 pounds, and I am going to keep on trucking.  Fuck 'em all. 

Let's get real....

I have not been faithful in keeping up with this blog, but I do have news to report… both good and bad.  Bad news first, cause that always sucks.  I got on the scale this morning (shaking my damn head at myself.  I know better…) and I am officially up 10 pounds.  Now, because I know more about myself and my weight, now more than ever before – I know that is this NOT 10 pounds of fat.  It’s 10 pounds of beer, and sodium, and water weight, and *maybe* even some muscle.  But, the scale is moving the wrong way, and the inches aren’t moving where I want them too.   It has really been a struggle to get back into a routine after my Migraine hiatus.  

After it was all said and done, I had about 8 weeks where I was not working out or eating properly, and I am sure that this has contributed to that ghastly number I saw on the scale this morning.  But, I did what any rational, health obsessed person would do, and I took my measurements.  While they were not where I wanted them to be, they were where I expected them to be.  Over the last few weeks I have been getting better.  I have been hitting the gym.  I have been doing my C25K.  I have been lifting, but I have not been following the NROLFW program the way I was before.  I have just being doing squats and deadlifts and, well, the exercises I LIKED doing.  I have been getting back to eating right, but I am not perfect.  I have slipped more often than not, and this hot weather, and cold beer, and family and neighborhood BBQ’s have made it hard to stay on track.  

Now, when I get into a position like this, I usually hit the internet for inspiration.  I look at MFP and the success stories.  I look at what other programs I could be doing that would produce greater results.  I go to Pintrest and find motivational quotes and pictures… which I have been doing.  But I am feeling inspired today – without the help of digitally enhanced photos, promises of miracle drugs, and homemade body wraps.  Really, you want me to rub what on my belly, and then wrap myself in saran-wrap?!?!  Sorry, but the chapter of my life that included saran-wrap dresses is closed.  That was college, and I was drunk and don’t remember it anyway.  ;) My inspiration came a little closer to home – so to speak.  One person that I look at all the time is my friend Tiffany, from MFP (OnWisconsin84).  She is outspoken, and foul-mouthed, just like me, and she is a TRUE inspiration.  This woman has lost 110 pounds – and did it the right way.  And now, this bitch has abs to DIE for, guns like you wouldn’t believe, and rocks the shit out of a Mohawk.  She still struggles every day.  She LOVES beer, and has mental arguments with herself over Fruity Pebbles.  Sometimes she caves – but she makes it work.  And if she has a bad weekend, it doesn’t send her into a blind eating binge.  She forgets it, and gets back to work.  Back to normal.  

The other driving force in me today is my friend Crystal.  This girl – OMG, I love her.  A little background first;  Crystal sent me a text a while ago (many months ago) and asked me for some advice.  She wanted to start losing weight, and working out, and asked me what I had been doing.  We talked for a LONG time that day, and I told her everything I could think of – starting off with a little piece of wisdom my Heather gave me.  Jillian Michaels – 30 Day Shred.  Crystal lives in Wisconsin, so I really don’t see her or talk to her all that often (She was Heather’s roommate in college, and I met Crystal through Heather).  Last week, she posted some new pictures on FB – and she looked PHENOMENAL.  On Sunday, Heather called to check in.  We did a quick rundown of what had been going on in both our lives.  And I mean QUICK.  She was hung over and sick, and on her way home from an over-night camping trip to see the DMB.  *Jealous*.  So towards the end of the conversation, we started talking about Crystal.  Heather tells me that Crystal has officially met her 50 pounds lost mark!  50 POUNDS!!!  Now this chick – ugh.  If only I had her will power.  She goes to the gym TWICE a day, and packs her own salad to go to a BBQ.  Who does that?  It’s frickin incredible is what that is.   These two women are REAL.  They have good days and bad days.  Tiffany reminds me that it’s okay to have a bowl of Fruity Pebbles once in a while, and that Orange Leaf ice cream may or may not be the devil, but she’s gonna eat it anyway.  And still look FAN-DAMN-TASTIC.  Crystal reminds me that I still have a long way to go – and maybe packing your own salad for a BBQ isn’t such a bad idea.  She works her ass off, and it is paying off in a big (50 POUNDS!!!) way.  

I knew that I had been eating cleaner, and working out more – so the scale confused me this morning.  Instead of diving head first into a plate of Oh-SO-Delicious McDonalds breakfast – I made my protein shake, and went to work.  I figured out that I had not recalculated my BMR or TDEE since the beginning.  Because of my loss (even with the 10 pound gain recorded by the demonic electronic device in my bathroom), my BMR was off by over 300 calories!  Which is GOOD news.  Number one, I have lost enough weight for my body to not need as many calories just to function.  It also explains why I might be gaining a pound or two.  Because of the change in BMR – I wasn’t eating at a deficit.   I have reset my goals on MFP to show the right number of calories I should be eating. 

I have got my plan of action in place.  My iPod is charged, and my headphones are ready.  I have a twitch in my foot because I know I am going to have to wait about 12 hours before I can get home, change and get to the gym to work out.  I know that MY program with produce faster results, if I just stick to it.  It’s time to tighten it up, and get to work.  I realize that this is all part of my journey.  I am learning all the time.  If something isn’t working, it doesn’t mean it’s broken.  Maybe it needs an adjustment, like the idle on a carburetor , or a recharge of the batteries.  In my case, it was both.  The rest period is over.  My batteries are fully charged.  The adjustments to my diet have been made.  Now it’s time to get to work.  131 days until we set sail.  131 days until I will be in the best shape of my life.  

And I can’t wait.  THAT’s real. 

Workout Barbie

My last few days at the Gym have been inspiring.  I NEVER thought I would feel this way.  And it feels GOOD. 

So let’s sum up the last few weeks, before we get to Never Never Land.  I took myself off of all of those crazy medications every doctor and their mother had put me on.  I still take the Beta Blocker (the heart medication), my B2 vitamin, and a Women’s One Daily.  No more Excedrin.  No more pain medication.  And guess what?  No more headaches!  The last headache that was serious enough to put in my headache diary was June 19^th.  That’s 17 days headache FREE.  It took me a while to get back into the swing of things.  I started running at home, although, not much.  I had enough excuses.  It was too hot out.  I’ll do it after the sun goes down.  Eh, I went swimming today – that should be enough.  Then the other day, a light came on in my head.  I am paying a gym membership.  They have treadmills there.  In the air conditioning.  And they have weights.  And DING!  Off to the races I went.  I actually wore shorts, which if you know me, is QUITE an accomplishment in itself.  I cut some sleeves off of an old tee, and made a “lucky” workout tank (It has a shamrock, and the work HOOLIGAN on it). 

Welcome to Never Never Land. 

I walk into the gym, water, weight lifting log, and iPod in hand.  The tanning bed happened to be open, so I went in there first.  Then, It was time for a run.  I started up my C25K app, turned on my favorite running playlist, and hit the pavement.  Or moving belt.  Whatever.  I am on, I don’t know, my 3^rd circuit or so, when she walks in.  Workout Barbie has arrived.  To me, it’s more entertaining to people watch, than to stare at the TV.  No Mr. Trainer, I don’t want the damn remote.  GO AWAY.  So, any-hoo… she makes a lap around the perimeter of the gym, checking to see who’s there.  She finally ends up on an Elliptical machine right in front of me.  I swear, she could not have been on it 5 minutes when that portion of her workout was over.  She dabs the non-existent sweat off her forehead, and heads to find a Swiss Ball.  She starts doing crunches.  Everything she is wearing, from her cute little head band down to her shoelaces matched.  Her hair is perfect.  There is not a smudge in her putty knife applied makeup.  And I think of myself.  I washed my face before I got here.  When I sweat, I sweat.  And my makeup runs.  And my eyeliner ends up halfway down my cheeks, and I end up looking like Gothopotamus.  My red hair is probably frizzy and standing straight up by now.  I am wearing a cut off T-shirt I made at home 45 minutes ago.  I do not look anything like this girl.  And that old familiar pang starts to hit my stomach. 

I wish I was skinnier.  I wish I had a body like hers.  I wish I could come here, and not do any work, and look like that.  I always hated Barbies.  When I was a kid, I used to color her face with markers, and cut all her hair off.  My childhood hatred came rushing back, and I had a brief fantasy about cutting all of this chick’s hair off, and wondered if she would still come to the gym then.  I am interrupted from my lovely daydream by a chime in my ear.  Damnnit!  C25K, week 1, workout 1, Completed.  Moving on….

I grab my weightlifting log, gather all of my necessary weights, and head towards the squat rack.  Workout Barbie has made way to a few other machines, but I haven’t seen her do anything but sit on them, and clean them.  Can’t look at her.  Gotta focus.  Damn this shit is heavy!  I am doing my squats first.  I think briefly about giving up after 2 reps.  My inner Goddess screams at me!!  NOOOOOOOOOO!  Only a few more.  3…2….1…. Are you shitting me?  I just did an entire set of squats with perfect form, at 105 pounds!!!  I am now doing a primal victory scream in my head, as I hold Barbie’s hair above my head like some Indian that just scalped the enemy.  Good stuff.  Next!!!

As I am taking my last 60 second break and chugging water like it’s my job, I see her again.  She is kneeling on a bench, watching herself in the mirror.  She is doing Tricep Kickbacks.  Using her outfit/headband/shoestring matching 3 pound pink Barbie weights.  She is a machine!  I bet she does 100 reps.  She sets her toys – I mean, weights – down, and exhales a long, hard breath.  She again wipes the non-existent sweat off of her forehead.  She fixes the stray hair she sees in the mirror.  Then she does it.  She puts both of her arms up, and flexes.  She is admiring all of her hard work.  Satisfied, she wipes down the bench she was just kneeling on, and leaves.  As she walks by me, she gives me this look.  The look was disdain.  I could see her size me up, and I felt like I could read the thoughts in her head.  It’s the way every skinny girl looks at the fat girl in high school.  I was right back there at the Prom, crying in the bathroom while the other girls posed for pictures and danced with their dates.  The memory is heavy.  Oops.  Nope.  It’s the weight that’s heavy.  I focus, and finish my last set.

It doesn’t hit me until I am in the car.  I light my cigarette, and roll the windows down.  I momentarily catch my reflection in my rearview mirror.  UGH.  The person looking back at me is DISGUSTING.  Her hair is SOAKING wet.  There are actually droplets of sweat, just hanging there, waiting for the weight to build up enough to fall.  Her face is so red she looks like she spent about 3 days too long in the tanning bed.  Her shirt is wet, and honestly, kind of smelly.  A mile down the road, I glance back up, and see sweat still rolling down my face.  I can feel it on my neck, and running down my back.  In that second, I saw her.  I saw the goddess that was yelling at me earlier.  And she looked just like me.  Not future me.  Not skinnier me.  Not a Workout Barbie version of me.  It was just, ME.  In the next second I flash back to my earlier thoughts of Barbie on the elliptical and being so envious of her.  And I think momentarily – someday, she will be that envious of ME.

I get home, and go to take a freezing cold shower.  I strip, and again, look at my reflection in the mirror.  I hesitate, but finally decide to do it.  I lift my arms up, and flex in the mirror just like Barbie did.  My jaw drops in shock.  My arms look better than hers!  I go to a different angle, because I think my eyes are playing tricks on me.  No!  Seriously!  And here comes the primal war cry of scalping Barbie. 

This morning was a repeat of Tuesday.  I’m working my ass off when Barbie (a different one, a brunette) comes strolling in.  She also has cute little colored weights.  They might be 5 pounds.  MIGHT.  She’s doing bicep curls.  And lots of them.  Then the exercise bike as she reads a magazine.  I am deadlifting what I can fairly estimate is her body weight.  I finish, and hit the locker room to shower and get ready for work.  She is touching up her hair and makeup as I haphazardly get dressed.  I worked out too long.  I’m gonna be late.  I hit the highway and about halfway down 75, she’s there looking back at me.  My inner goddess is holding a brown ponytail in her hand. 

Welcome to Never Never Land.  Where I, the Fat Girl can look at Barbie and say – I might weigh twice as much as you do, but my arms look better than yours, and I can deadlift, well, YOU.  For the very first time in my life, I felt prettier than Barbie. 

Oh, and on another note, somehow, while drinking 5 beers yesterday at a cookout, I went over on protein, and was under on everything else!  And I actually ATE all damn day long!   

Holding my scalps high above my head!!!

The Fat Girl

The Fighter...

This was such an inspiration to me today.  I have been really down lately, as all of you know.  I can relate to a lot of these lyrics, and this was just what I needed to hear today.  I have posted the lyrics below for those who are curious, or you can just watch the video... 

Give 'em hell.

<3 - The Fat Girl




Just wakin up in the morning
And the beat well
Quite honest with ya,
I ain't really sleep well
Ya ever feel like your train a thoughts been derailed?
That's when you press on. Lee nails.

Half the population's just waitin to see me fail
Yeah right, you're better off tryina freeze hell
Some of us do it for the females
And others do it for the retails

But I do it for the kids, life through the tower head on
Everytime you fall its only making your chin strong
And I'll be in your corner like Mick baby, til the end
Or when you hear the song from that big lady

Bridge:
Until the referee rings the bell
Until both your eyes start to swell
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya'll?

Chorus (Ryan Tedder):
Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me
Say to me, this one's a fighter

Verse 2:
And if I can last thirty rounds
There's no reason you should ever have your head down
Six foot five, two hundred and twenty pounds
Hailing from rock bottom, loserville, nothing town
Text book version of the kid going nowhere fast
(From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/g/gym-class-heroes-lyrics/the-fighter-lyrics.html)
And now im yelling kiss my ass,
it's gonna take a couple right hooks a few left jabs
for you to recognize that you really aint got it bad

Bridge:
Until the referee rings the bell
Until both your eyes start to swell
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya'll?

Chorus (Ryan Tedder):
Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me
Say to me, this one's a fighter

Everybody put yo hands up
What we gonna do? (x7) ya'll

If you fall pick yourself up off the floor (get up)
And when your bones can't take no more
Just remember what you're here for
Cuz I know imma damn sure

Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me
Say to me, this one's a fighter

Till the referee rings the bell
Till both ya eyes start to swell
Till the crowd goes home,
What we gonna do kid?

A Moment of Clarity

I woke up with an attitude today. 

It’s probably due to the lack of sleep last night.  I laid awake most of the night, fighting yet another migraine.  The pain was too intense to sleep.  I was already too far gone to take my actual migraine medicine.  It was too late to take pain medicine – I’d never be able to drive to work in the morning.  I replayed the weekend over and over in my head.  Having to leave Madie’s game early.  Having to sleep while we had Nate.  Missing my Uncle’s Surprise Birthday party.  Having to leave my in-laws early.  Not being able to go shopping.  Having to skip meals because I am nauseous.  Having to spend the only time I have seen my family in 6 months with my ears and eyes covered on the couch.  Matt told me this weekend that he has felt like a Single Dad the last month and a half.  And he’s right.  I have not been there for him, or for our family.  I have been paralyzed by whatever is going on in my head. 

Last night, my dad asked me how I was doing, and if the doctors were going to be able to fix me.  I sighed, and said “I guess so”.  He told me I didn’t sound very confident about that.  He was right.  I’m not confident.  In any of the doctors, or what they are telling me to do.  No one agrees on anything.  They don’t agree on the cause, they don’t agree on medications, and they don’t agree on a treatment plan.  So who am I supposed to listen to?  My family doctor that has no clue about anything?  Yeah, no.  I don’t think so.  The Chiropractor that says massaging my neck and cracking my back will do the trick?  I don’t know.  I saw the x-rays myself, and they do look pretty bad, but what in the hell do I know?  I do know it’s expensive.  $55 dollars a visit, 3 times a week.  For 6 weeks.  That’s $1000 I don’t have.  The neurologist wants me to have an MRI and an MRV done.  Those are two really expensive tests.  Do I really even need them?  I mean, my CT came back clear.  If there was something wrong, wouldn’t it have showed up on the CT scan?  Why do I need two more tests? 

So my mind started wandering off.  (I am going to write this next part the way my mind actually processed all of this last night…) Thinking.  Obsessing.  Wishing I had worked harder in school, so maybe I would have been a doctor, and I could diagnose myself.  I should have finished school anyway.  Damnnit.  But I’m not a doctor.  I’m just me.  And I want to be the old me.  I want to be the me I was a few months ago.  Driven.  Determined.  A good mom.  A fandamntastic wife that my hubby bragged about to his friends.  I’m not, and wasn’t perfect, by any means.  I like cleaning, but I hate cleaning, and having the house wrecked by everyone else, and everyone else waiting for me to clean up.  Then I show them by putting my foot down, and refusing to clean.  Eventually, someone will get sick of the mess and clean up, right?  Nope, that always backfires, and I end up having a whole mess of a house to clean.  I do despise doing laundry.  I HATE it.  And no one else will do it.  So it piles up, and laundry usually gets done when someone says, Um, I don’t have any clean shirts to wear.  I would rather spend my time with my family.  Playing outside.  Chit-chatting with our neighbors.  Gossiping with Matt’s mom.  Going to the gym.  Running with my dogs.  Living my hectic crazy life.    

I know I’m not perfect.  I’m not the perfect wife.  I’m not the perfect (step)mom.  I’m not the perfect employee, or friend, or maid or daughter or sister or anything.  And I am certainly NOT the perfect patient.  But things were pretty good before all this started – not that things are bad now.  I just feel absent in my own life.  What has changed so much between then, and now?

Well, let’s see here.  Before.  Before – I would get up at 5:00am, go to work, come home, workout, go get the kids, make dinner, go to practices or play outside, try to get the house straightened up, or some laundry done, get the kids to bed, spend some time with Matt, watch some tv, and be in bed by 12.  Sleep for 5 hours, rinse  and repeat.  Okay, maybe not enough sleep, but I was exercising every day, eating healthy at least 3 times every day, and still getting “life” things accomplished.  Weed the flower bed, take Madie to soccer, Nate to baseball, dogs to the vet, sweep the floor, fold the clothes that have been in the dryer for 3 days, etc.  I had a LIFE!!!

Now.  Now – I get up at 5, lay very still in my bed and wait to see if my head hurts.  I go to work, wear sunglasses most of the day, and I am still usually sick by lunch at the latest.  I dread my 50 minute drive home looking straight into the sun the whole way.  Then, depending on the day, I either go to an appointment, or go home.  Either way, by the time I get home, I am so sick – all I can do is take my medicines and lay down.  I sleep, usually until about 8 or so.  I get up, try to spend some time with the kids before they go to bed at 9.  By then it’s getting dark outside, the medicine has kicked in, and the symptoms have eased up a bit.  I will do a load of laundry, or try to clean my kitchen, or help Matt with our pool, eat something for the first time all day, and go to bed. 

So what’s the difference? Before I was active – at the time I thought I was lazy – but I see now I was ACTIVE as hell.  At least compared to my life now.  Okay – so I was active.  I ate breakfast, lunch, dinner, a snack or two – all healthy food.  Okay, for the most part.  Whatever.  I wasn’t on any kind of medication.  Just the pill.  Now, I sleep, take medicine, work, take more medicine, sleep more, and have a fucked up diet. 

Now, my non-doctor, I only finished half of college education tells me that there is a pattern here…  I was living a healthier lifestyle a month ago when everything was just fine.  I was active, and I was eating and sleeping normally.  Now, I am eating like shit, sleeping too much, and taking whatever poison a white coat with a rx pad gives me.  And I feel like shit.  ALL.  THE.  TIME. 

Now, maybe this is the drugs talking, or all the sleeping has messed with my head, but I have come to a conclusion. 

Fuck the doctors.  I’m not going back.   At least not for a week or two.  No more medicine.  No more visits.  No more MRIs or MRVs or blahblahblahs.  Let’s just give all the bullshit a break, and try to get back to being me.  I am giving my old routine a try.  I am going to force myself to eat, and eat healthful foods.  I am going to give the sunglasses a break at work, and see if my eyes can get used to the light again.  I am going to relieve some of this god-damnned stress and go for a run.  With my dogs.  I am going to come home tonight and cook and clean for my family.  I am going to swim in my pool with my kids and put them to bed exhausted tonight.  I am going to give my hubby some attention that is long overdue.  And then sink exhausted into my own bed, and do it again tomorrow.  And the day after that.  And the day after that.  And I am going to give my body some time to adjust to being the “old” me.  And if it doesn’t work, and I still have migraines in a week or two – then guess what?  I am no worse off than I am right now.  I will take my vitamins, and I will take my heart medication.  But the rest is being put away for a while.  I have put my life in their hands for long enough, and the only thing that has changed is the amount due in my medical bill file. 

It’s time to do me. 

And amazingly, the second I came to this conclusion, I fell immediately asleep.  I woke up rested, and refreshed, and fingers crossed – I have not had a headache today.  NOT EVEN A HEADACHE!!!  Not ONE migraine symptom.  I ate breakfast, and cancelled my doctor’s appointment.    

Today, my fellow fatties, is Day ONE of NOT having a Migraine.  J