Food is My Friend

Food. Me likes it. Me likes it a lot. Me likes it fresh. Me likes it grilled. Me likes period.

If only I didn't like it so much.

If only I could be like those actresses and runway models who eat 2.5 ounces of grilled salmon and a 1/2 a cup of lettuce and proclaim themselves stuffed.

I am not that girl.

In the month since FIL became broken, I have gained five pounds. FIVE.STINKING.POUNDS.

Now, you may be thinking that five pounds isn't all that much. Peesshhaww you say. It's only a few pounds you say. Sure, but added to their soul mates that are attached to my thighs and it's more than a few pounds.

DARN IT!

In all fairness, I am reasonably certain that a few of these pounds are stress pounds

Just let me have my little day dream here, okay?

Stress pounds are produced NOT from eating, but from stressful situations that cause your body to store extra fat in your stomach area. Isn't that great? Now not only can you gain weight by eating actual food, you can also gain wait by stressing out.

Isn't that swell?

Let's not even mention the little fact that since I am now cooking for two extra people (unabomber and FIL), one of which is picky, that my menu hasn't been as "healthy" as it could be.

FIL isn't a veggie eater.

FIL doesn't like this.

He doesn't like that.

It's like having a three-year-old sometimes. Except I can't send him to his room. I could, however, wait until he's in there and take his walker. Then he's stuck until I decide to bring it back...Not that I would ever do that.

...

Anyway, five pounds. FIVE.STINKING.ROTTEN.GROSS.POUNDS.

Blast!

So, this week, I up the anti. I'll need to hit the track. I'll need to make it to the gym more than once a week. I'll need to just say NO to cake.

mmmmm....cake...

I mean, yum, cottage cheese and fiber one.

Yum?

Back to the Grind

It's Monday. Again.

Funny how a Monday after consecutive holidays seems somewhat harder, colder, sleepier. *yawn*

I have to leave for work in exactly 19 minutes. I have yet to brush my teeth or put my shoes on. I need to leave a to do list for Girl and figure out what's for dinner tonight. Yet, here I sit holding a one sided conversation with you.

I like you.

Over the weekend, someone asked me what my resolutions for 2009 are. When I brashly said I hadn't nary a one, he snickered. Really, he did. He snickered in a, "Oh, you are such a failure," sorta way.

Or, maybe he didn't and I just perceived it that way. It's hard to say. I may have been distracted by the yummy lasagna, red wine, and homemade cheesecake. It was all so fun and so delicious that maybe his snickering wasn't really a snicker. Maybe I was impressing my own "failure" onto him. Could be. Who knows.

But, it does lead me to ask the question, "Do you make resolutions? If so, do you keep them? If you don't, then why do you make them?"

Uggghh. I'm being all introspective. Don't you feel sorry for the girls at the gym today?

Ha!

Oh, and one more bit o' happy news: I got on the scale after a solid month of eating, eating, eating and haven't gained a pound!

Now if I could just lose the rest of this...

Socks, Rocks, and Goodies Galore!

As promised, here is a pic of the pair of socks that will be given away on Friday, December 12th. Remember to comment on my blog this week to be entered into the drawing. I know it's just socks, but come on, everyone needs socks and who doesn't love Christmas socks? I'll have you know these were picked out by Girl who liked these ones better than the black, red, and white stockings that were designed to look like a red brick chimney with snow topping it.

Now, about those rocks...

Sometimes I just feel like pelting people with rocks. A conversation took place this weekend that left me worried and sad. I want to fix the problem, but I can't. It's one of life's little lessons that must be learned, but I want to fix it anyway. I would even stoop so low as to put a band aid on it and pretend like it didn't happen. Pathetic, I know.

Or, maybe it is because I consumed too much junk food this weekend. Egad! Whenever Soldier Mommy and the boys are here, they always bring junk food. Lots and lots of junk and I happily eat it because my mind is on auto pilot and don't even think before I take.

Okay, not true. I do think. I think things like, "Oh! Is that chocolate cake? Did you buy it for me?" and "I bet that would taste great with a cup of tea?". I've even been known to say things like, "I know I shouldn't..."

Take Saturday for instance; it was a work day for me and instead of grabbing my usual protein drink, I grabbed a cinnamon roll. Beloved looked at me and said between bites, "Tastes better than a protein shake huh?"

Yes, yes it did.

But now I have to detox all the sugar out of my body. I was hoping to lose some more weight (still hanging at a loss of 25lbs) before Christmas. This may have been a bad idea. It is, after all, Christmas, and while I can pass on the mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls with butter, and stuffing, sweets are truly hard to pass up.

Maybe I should go find a big rock and bash myself in the head. I understand when you're in a coma they feed you a liquid diet. That should help take the pounds off!

Kickin' It

So, I kicked the hills butt. Yeah. Kicked it. I ran up it. I ran up it FOUR TIMES.

To be perfectly honest, I should probably admit that my running looks more like a jog. Okay, more like a water buffalo jog. Oh alright! It looks more like a wounded, water buffalo jog.

When I’m not in town making my walking buddy take the hills, I either walk my road which is gravel & hilly, or I torture myself with Winsor Pilates and/or Crunch aerobics. Yesterday was a road day and Beloved, since he was off work and doing nothing, decided to join me.

“I won’t go the entire 45-minutes. I don’t want to,” he smiled.

Whateveh…

My route is pretty simple: walk to the mail box, slap it, turn and walk to the driveway, run from driveway to barn, walk from barn up hill to first telephone pole, and return to mailbox. Repeat. Because it’s a country road it isn’t always very flat. I prefer to walk on the right side of the road because it doesn’t slant.

“Trade me sides,” Beloved says.

“I don’t like the left side. It’s slanty.” I reply

“I know…”replies my Beloved.

Beloved is in pretty good shape but he could afford to lose some weight (his words, not mine). His job is very physically demanding and I knew he could out walk, out run, out everything me. So when he complained about the slanty side of the road, I kinda chuckled. Okay, I laughed, but I switched sides with him.

We finished our second lap and were on our way to the driveway when Beloved said, “Let’s run from the barn to the telephone pole.”

Up hill?

He wants me to run up hill? Is he on crack?

Has he forgotten who he’s married to? I’m short and I’m overweight. I run like a water buffalo, an injured water buffalo.



Run up the hill…

I love a challenge.

So I kicked the hills butt. I ran up the hill Quasimodo style, but I did it. I did it three more times. We ended with a total time of 50 minutes (yeah me!).

This morning as Beloved left for work he said, “Ouch! My calves hurt.”

I just smiled. Poor Beloved. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that mine didn’t.

Burn Baby Burn

I’ve been working out for twenty-five days now and I’ve made an interesting observation. Being the non-exercise kinda girl I’ve been, my muscles were terribly surprised to find the sudden demand upon them. They howled. They cried. Why, they even begged me to quit. I told them to suck it up and stop being such babies. Geessh!

The funny thing is they can do more things now. For instance, they can climb this horrible, dreadful, high hill on our road. They can climb it over and over again. Sure they get tired, but they don’t burn and ache like they use to. This was clearly pointed out to me the other night when my walking buddy, who I’ll call Long and Lean, stated, “My legs are burning!”

“Mine aren’t,” I replied in my best snotty voice.

I wasn’t being a snotty girl for nothin’. Just moment before, as we ran (yeah, I run now too) from point A to point B, long and lean girl laughed at me. She laughed. I know I’m slow, I’ve never been much of a runner, but that girl with zero body fat laughed at the fat girl. Not nice. Not. Nice.At.All.

When she started to complain that her legs had started to burn climbing the hill, well, I laughed. I laughed until my side-ached. “Ha! Take that Long and Lean. You may be skinny, but my muscles climb the hill without pain. Ha ha ha!!!”

Yeah, I probably took it too far. I said too much. I laughed too loud.

But DANG that felt good.

Coming Tomorrow

Please join me tomorrow and meet Ashley Cuttino owner and creator of Scrapbook Blogger

Look at the Idiot Girl

Yesterday is rained. That isn’t exactly breaking news here in Oregon. It rains a great deal of the time; in fact, I’d have to say that it has rained at least five days of every week since October. Again, that isn’t unusual. The funny thing about the rain yesterday was that I was out in it.

My Mother did teach her idiot daughter to come in out of the rain. She also told me to not eat too much dessert because, “Too much dessert makes too much Ann.” Which is a good part of the reason I was out walking. Hey, she told me, that doesn’t mean I listened!

But, back to the rain.

It wasn’t raining when I left the house. It was in fact, very lovely; light breeze, sunshine, large puffy clouds, a good time, nay, a perfect time for a walk. Cept, its Oregon in the spring time.

I met my walking buddy who had a little gifty for me; her book. It’s the one I’ve been begging (begging!) her to let me read. It hits the book stores in June and I have every intention of purchasing it, but I wanted to read it early! I’m her BOF for heaven’s sake!

But, back to the rain.

We started out on our usual path. I listened as she described a couple of guys she knows who are in a bad way. We cleared the woods as the temperature dropped. Wow, it’s cold, I thought. Just as we crossed the bridge it started to sprinkle.

“I think it’s going to rain on us,” I chirped.

Sure enough. The heavens opened and it began to pour. We laughed about our flimsy, non-rain repellant jackets (Morons! Walking in Oregon without a rain coat, snicker) but we kept moving. I threw my hood on, a fact she noted and grumbled about not having one. I asked if the fact that I’d be sitting in my car for an hour, soaking wet, waiting for Miss C, was consolation enough while she’d be home warm and dry. It soothed her mean little heart just a bit.

That is until it started to hail. Now, I don’t know if ya’ll have ever been out walking, in the rain, dripping wet, being pelted by tiny darts of ice or not, but let me just assure you that it’s not fun. It isn’t fun at all. We cut our loop short and headed for the parking lot. It was then that I decided I wasn’t going to leave. I wasn’t going to let the rain beat me. I was going to finish my walk!

Walking buddy thought I was an idiot, “You can stay if you want to, but I’m going home. My pants are sticking to my legs!”

And stay I did.

I finished my walk, soaked to the skin, hair plastered to my head, shoes squishing. The geese laughed at me as I passed them. I could hear them snickering to each other, pointing in my direction squawking, “Look at the idiot girl! She thinks she’s a duck” Quack, quack, quack. The grounds keepers smiled at me in that, “Oh look, a die hard. She must not be from around here, she doesn’t have a rain coat,” kind of way.

But, I did it. I finished my walk and I was proud. Wet, but proud.

And waiting for me in my car: THE BOOK

To be continued