Day Thirty-Nine, and what it was like.

Well, I woke up and decided that, being it was a new day and all, to let the past be the past and to not have a foodie/binge-y hangover and feel the funk any more than I had to.  So I went to the Y this morning and dropped Andrew off in Child Watch so I could work out.  And I did it me-style.  Let me 'splain....

I went to run, since it is an Aerobics Solution day.  I got all set on the treadmill, popped Pearl in my ears, and started chugging away.  I had propped my BFL journal up on the little crap ledge thingy that all treadmills have, and tried to use it like I normally do, to keep track of what speed I need to go at what time.  It proved to be too much book on too small of a display screen, so I shut the book and only opened it when I needed to.  Then I dropped it and caught it in mid-air, only to have knocked off the emergency magnet thingy that is supposed to save me from being launched across the room in case I fall.  I had to smile to myself...ha ha, how cute, I messed up and have to re-enter my speed, my course, my weight, my horoscope, my second grade teacher's favorite color, and on and on.  So I did it and started running again.  Trying to remember how much I had run before so I could see if I could make it past the mile-and-a-half mark I've been logging in previous runs.  Then I knocked the little frackin' magnet off AGAIN!  This time the funk roared out of me and I full-fledged gave my treadmill the very obvious finger.  Mature, right?  What does that rate me, middle school or high school level maturity?  Mind you, I'm at the YMCA, the Young Men's Christian Association.  And that little gesture wasn't like saying "peace be unto you."  It's more like saying, "help, I need meds."

I finished my run...have no clue how far I went, and decided to break the rules.  I went into the weight area.  This area scares me.  There are machines here that look like they could double for the iron maiden during the Spanish Inquisition (Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!).  There are big ole dumb bells, and there are people working out with barbells and stuff.  People who look like they know what they're doing, and will probably laugh me out of there once I start heaving weights around.  But the funk will not be denied.  I march in there, blaring ABBA in my Pearl (dork alert), and start lifting weights for the missed Upper Body Workout I didn't do yesterday.  And I do the whole thing. 

I have some funny observations from my time in the weight area.  First, all weights smell funny.  I thought it was just mine at home (they smell like kerosone, even after I washed them).  Must be some kind of rule.  Secondly, I lift heavier weights than ever before when I'm in public.  Because, you know, everyone is looking at me.  No one could possibly be there to work out and focus only on themselves.  Shuh.  I mean, I even caught myself in the 412 mirrors in the weight area, doing bench dips and trying to set my jawline like I was a bad-ass.  I am such a poser!  I just have to laugh at myself.  Apparently my maturity level is still below average, but I kinda already knew that.

Today I got to thinking about the moment in my life regarding food that spurred me into taking action, and into doing Body-for-LIFE.  I was cranky, upset, very resentful in general, and feeling like a member of the Donner party, except with cabin fever thrown in.  I had driven to the nearby gas station to get "bad food."  I was wearing pajamas basically, really baggy pants and a horrible looking T-shirt.  My hair was all over the place, and I was very big and obviously very unhappy.  Plus, I had my brain on auto-loop, constantly berating myself over my appearance and what I was eating, especially when I was eating the "bad food."  "What are you doing, fatty?" my brain would hiss at me.  "Don't you know everyone can see how fat you are and is thinking that?"  Literally, that is how mean my mind is to me when I get to feeling low. 

So I grabbed king size candy bars, chips, sodas, fruit candy, and more stuff.  Then is where it felt more painful than it ever has before.  That slow shuffle to the counter, where I'm trying to walk as if I have confidence in myself and don't care about the 1400 calories worth of crap I have in my arms.  I think about pretending I am getting all of this for a group of people, not just for myself.  Maybe I could tell him I'm getting these snacks for friends at home who are going to watch a movie with me?  I remember distinctly thinking that.  I set the food down, and this painful lump in my throat was just killing me.  I knew this wasn't working, that this was not good for me, but I felt like I just had to have this stuff.  That it was all the enjoyment I had left at that point.  And a still, quiet voice (my own voice, too) said to me,

 "You know that you don't have to do this if you don't want to." 

I went through the motions after that.  I paid the cashier, lugged home the crap, and proceeded to eat it, but my little routine was spoiled.  I could still hear that little voice and I knew it was speaking the truth.  I didn't have to live like that, not if I didn't want to.  And I didn't want to any more.  I think a few days later or so the idea for BFL came to me, and I started this blog.  I am so very grateful that voice spoke to me when it did, when I felt so embarrassed and hideous about myself.  I know that voice was more than just myself, but a glimpse into what I could be, if I just would put down the self-sabotaging behavior.  I've heard that voice before, and it has always helped me.  And I know that voice comes from the God of my understanding, and I am so glad for my relationship with Him.  I know that God, and God-talk doesn't float a lot of people's boats, and if that guy doesn't figure into your life, that's cool, it's totally your business.  I'm only relating what happened to me that caused me to try to change what I did so I can have a better life. 

I slip up with that stuff from time to time (hey, see last night's post!), but I always try and usually succeed at getting back on the wagon again.  I do that because I do not ever want to do that shuffle to the counter at the gas station.  Ever again.  Good night, and see you tomorrow.

Day Thirty-Eight. Meh.

Bless me, dude, 'cause I am cranky.  It has been about 20 minutes since I last professed crankiness.  Here are my "things".

Thing 1:  I have been overtired all day.

Thing 2:  I ate three (!) Clif bars today and my stomach is not.happy.with.me.

Thing 3:  My hors are moning, to quote from the Sweet Potato Queens by Jill Connor Browne.  In English, my hormones are running rampant like lemmings off a cliff.

Thing 4:  I am so sensitive that I am positive that the Dalai Lama just gave me the finger.  That son of a gun.

Thing 5:  I ate Wendy's tonight.  For spite.  Kind of like eating rat poison and waiting for other people to die.  Aaaaawwweeesooommme and SO proud of the choice I made.

I need absolution.  Or maybe some chocolate.  Or a tazer.  I can't decide which.  So I better go to bed, because this evening has blown royally.  And the only thing that's genuinely the matter is the space between my ears.  Oh well, this too shall pass.  Meh.

Day Thirty-Three

I just, five minutes ago, got in my Upper Body Workout.  It's a damn good thing I'm a born night owl, otherwise this exercising stuff would be even harder to fit in. 

Today I realized how precious my time is.  I was so wacky at work from lack of sleep (Andrew caught a minor cold and spent the night kvetching at/for me) that I practically insisted on knitting my way through my shift.  Yeah, it's not so bad to be caught knitting on the job.  It's not like I was lurching around, twirling batons that were lit on fire.  That's next week.

I can actually knit without looking at my hands (sort of), and I was still running around, playing with the kids and being an involved employee, but I just had a ball of yarn in my armpit and an ever-lengthening scarf on my needles.  I must be rubbing off on people, because no one even batted an eye at me.  I just felt like I needed to do it, for my sanity.  I don't even know if I can make it make sense to you, but I just feel like I run from one small fire/responsibility to another, and then poof, it's 1:30am again and I'm trying to resign myself to ending another day, getting a shorter amount of sleep than I wanted, so I can do it all over again the next day.  I work, I parent, I knit for a sideline job, I knit for fun, I have to read something every day (no, really I do), and then there's cooking, cleaning, and exercising.  The day is just not long enough...seriously, could we expand the day to about 30 hours--just the sleeping part?  That would be grrrreeaaat.

Today I sort of didn't eat.  I overslept for work, and in the rushing around to get out of the house to work/school, I just couldn't find the time to make a breakfast for myself.  I packed extra food in the lunch bag to compensate, and I thought I'd eat once I got to work.  All I ate, though, from waking up at 7:30am to about 8:00pm, was a cup of coffee and one cheese stick, and water.  My appetite has been diminishing, but this is ridiculous.  Andrew and I ended up visiting Steve at work (he works at Weaver Street Market--a kick ass natural foods store, for the uninitiated), and nothing started bothering me until we were leaving and there were baskets of "staffed" food, things that were free for employees.  There were tubs of pimiento cheese, fresh fruit, cookies, and....cupcakes.  I managed to hang on until we left and were in the parking lot.  I then steered the car defiantly towards a Wendy's and got a burger and fries.  However, I found I couldn't eat all of it.  A few fries, about 2/3 of the sandwich, and I bagged up the remainder and threw it in the apartment dumpster so I wouldn't be tempted later.  Progress, not perfection....

I am hanging on for the weekend.  To not have to be anywhere by a certain time.  I am looking forward to getting out on my own on Saturday night, and my men will have a boys' night in without me (yay!), and Sunday morning, where I will go again and leave the boys for an hour or two.  Then it's back to the mines.  But in the meantime, I pushed myself hard for my workout, and I will be sure to take time to eat and eat well tomorrow.  I will see you then!

Day Nineteen, A few of my favorite things....

I think I figured something out.  This week has been rather lackluster.  I missed a workout on Wednesday, I messed up my eating for a few days straight now (nighttime snacking), and my get up and go has got up and went.  What has changed?  My times for working out, that's what.  I haven't meditated in a few days, either.  I guess taking the time to get up, quietly before dawn, to work out and meditate, really makes the rest of the day go much better.  Otherwise all this regular life stuff gets in the way and I end up too tired to do what I know I need to do, or I make excuses, like tonight--again, I totally didn't exercise. 

I did not start yet another lifestyle change just to discard it after a few weeks.  I do not have that short of an attention span, thank you very much.  I did not just buy new running shoes just to let them collect dust, and so on and so forth.  So, I am re-instituting the good old (dreaded) 5:45am wake up call.  This is just too important to me to piss it away, you know what I mean?

So, on to another topic.  My sister Lynda has visited my blog (hey Lynda!) and told me she liked to see the pictures of what I eat.  I'm always happy to oblige, and I have been taking some shots of things I've been eating that have been delicious/nutritious/beautiful, so I'm going to put 'em up and tell you how some of it was made.  None of this is very difficult to make, and all of it is very tasty.

First up, this one is awesome as a snack, breakfast, whatever.  Start with a half cup of low-fat cottage cheese.  In a separate, microwaveable bowl, dice up an apple, add fresh lemon juice, cinnamon, and Splenda.  Toss and microwave until the apple is to your desired level of stewed.  It's nice if it's just barely heated and the apple is crispy, and it's also good if you nuke it until it is nearly applesauce.  Combine the two, stir, and enjoy.  The apples warm up the cottage cheese, which takes away some of the cheese taste and renders it almost like a riccotta.  It is very nice when you are craving something sweet. 

Next up, one of my most favorite dishes, even before BFL.  Get a grill pan (highly highly recommend All-Clad's grill pan) and heat it thoroughly with olive oil, but do not let it smoke.  Meanwhile slice cleaned zucchinis lengthwise and salt rather liberally.  If you choose to, cut the zucchinis first and salt them and let the liquid render out.  Blot them with paper towels.  Place the zucchinis, cut side down, in the grill pan and go to town on it.  The browner you let it get, the better, flip it over, and repeat.  Continue until the zucchini is cooked through and is soft but not mushy.  It is wonderful, even my two-year old loves these.

Here are the beautiful, teensy "fairytale" eggplant I got at the farmer's market last weekend.  I cut them lengthwise and salted them to bring out the liquid, which relives the bitterness in the eggplants.  I tossed them with a fair bit of olive oil and rosemary and salt.  Here they are before being cooked:

And, after some time spent under the oven's broiler:

                                      

They lose that gorgeous color, but the broiler crisps the skins and makes for a wonderful little side dish.  All of this stuff is really pretty simple, but that's what I'm a fan of.  I don't mind making complicated stuff, but if it gets too tedious, then I'm probably not going to make it!


Other things that have been helpful for me is to make my food look attractive, not like prison slop.  I stop before eating each meal and look over the entire plate to remind myself that the smaller portions I am eating are actually just fine for me, that this is actually quite a bit of food, and that it is beautiful, and on and on.  Steve made my dinner the other night, and just about outdid himself for a simple dish of lean steak, brussels sprouts, and a kiwi.

He is such a show-off, isn't he!  :)

Other things I have started doing since starting BFL has been to label all the leftovers.  It's not because I think I'm going to have trouble identifying a salmon filet or frozen veggies, but because I am so leery of old leftovers getting eaten and all of us getting violently ill.  I admit, after about three or four days I pretty much toss the old stuff.  Steve will eat something until it's all gone, even if it's growing a beard, but I'm just not that way!  So I keep a fine permanent marker and some masking tape in my junk drawer in the kitchen, which is above the good old tupperware cabinet.  I write what it is and the date.  Behold the absolute height of my OCD! 

                                       

I never have to figure out when was the last time I made that casserole, or whatever.  I never used to freak out about that stuff, but when my dad became horribly, severely ill from salmonella, I started really paying attention.  For me, a few extra seconds in storing my food saves me standing in front of the refrigerator days later, doing weird food math.  "So...if it was a full moon and we had friends over, then this meatloaf is from...last Wednesday?"

And, just for grins, here are some cute pictures of my son doing something unheard of (in my opinion):  eating a homegrown tomato!  Note the cut up grilled zucchini on the plate behind him.

                                        

Can you belive that?  And, so you know he's also a fan of my Free Days, here is a clue as to what got eaten last Free Day:

                                        

Good night, everyone.  I am going to get back in the saddle tomorrow.  In the morning.  The very early, predawn, 5:45am morning.  I am getting back in the middle of this thing, so I don't lose out on what I've worked so hard for already!  See you tomorrow!