Balancing The Scales

Insecurities.

I don't have too many of them, honestly. 

I am not riddled with insecurities that plague my life and for that, I give credit to age and work in therapy.  I am naturally gregarious and (probably a little oblivious) and so I am socially confident, mostly.  I enjoy meeting new people and [barraging them with hundreds of questions] learning about them.

I have an easy-going, easy-to-laugh (even at my self) demeanor.  I think I'm also kind of easy to be around. I think I'm certain kinds of smart and overall smart-enough (I'm not taking any math quizzes from you but you know, other than that.)

But.

You knew there was a but coming, right?

But.

Here's the but:

It's my Butt.

Well, and my middle and other parts.  Basically, my overall body shape right now.

I am feeling insecure about the way I look, in other words.  And I don't love it.

I mean, I don't love feeling insecure.  About not loving the way I look.

Especially about that in particular.

Having that insecurity bothers me more than others might, I think.  It's not easy for me to articulate why that is, other than to say that it's so...I don't know.

See? Not so articulate, right?

On one hand, I feel like it's something that I shouldn't feel insecure about.  I mean, I ate too much and didn't exercise enough, I put on some weight and whatever.  So, my pants are bigger than I'd like and I have a skooshy middle (partially thanks to mah 9 month old and partially to aforementioned eating/not exercising.)  It's not like I can't lose it.  Who really cares about it anyway?

And on the other hand, I know lots of people care about it.  Not necessarily earth-shattering news flash, there, I know.  And while I don't care about whether or not YOU gain weight and it has absolutely no bearing on what I think of you as a person and while I honestly don't really care so much what other people are thinking of me as a general rule, I still have this mental glitch, here.

I feel like having an excess 30 pounds obscures my real body shape underneath.  I am not projecting the real me out into the world. 

You see what I'm saying?

This 30 pounds I'm carrying around make me look and feel like someone else.  It has transformed me (I've transformed myself, in other words) into a somewhat shapeless, somewhat larger version of myself.

And for whatever reason, it makes me feel awkward in not only every outfit I have and have purchased recently but, unfortunately, even in my own skin.

Insecurities suck.

That's about as articulate I'm getting, I guess.

The Journey Of Losing 30 Pounds Starts With...Meh, What The Hell Do I Know?

So.

I've started [yet aFUCKINGgain] to keep track of my weight, eating and physical exercise.  I weighed myself about 2 weeks ago.

Um.

165.

That's about 30 pounds to lose.

*sigh*

I've lost around that amount of weight probably twice before.  Maybe three times.  And here I am again.  I gain weight for lots of *reasons.*  I am aware that other people use the word *excuses* but I'm not partial to it, feeling that it's sort of...punitive?  Making Weight and Eating and Not Working Out, like, Moral Issues.  I am also aware, that for lots of people, making Weight and Eating and Not Working Out a kind of Moral Issue is Motivating. 

For me, it is the opposite of motivating.

And thus: To me, they are reasons.

I began gym-going and exercising near the end of high school.  I was toned and fit and in great condition, physically.  The first time I gained a lot of weight was my sophomore year in college.  (The BK-Three-Times-A-Day and the 'Bar None Runs' to the vending machine caught up with me.) 

I lost that weight between senior year and the following year.  By working out and having a Paid-Attention-To diet.

The next time I gained a lot of weight was in grad school.  Or, rather, the year after grad school, when I was working full time and doing my thesis.  (Chicken Cheese Steak dinners [pre-veggie days!] and too little sleep and absolutely NO exercise.)

I lost that weight after a couple years, I think.  Maybe not all of it.

Then, I went on a vacation to Italy, France and England.  In the way that often happens to me, I had an epiphany there, thing upon thing, converged to bring me some kind of new awareness.  Seeing the women of Europe, even those in the country of my people, was sobering and eye-opening. 

I lost the rest of the weight and then some, maybe 6 years ago.

And then, my mom died.  And I had two kids. 

And here I am.

Each time that I've gained weight, it has been due--in total, really--to a stressful situation which seems to [pulverize] knock out my Paying Attention to what I'm eating and my Consistent, if not moderate exercise.  I eat with abandon and I literally don't exercise. Like, at all.  Or, if I do, it is negligible.  Negligible! 

So, I don't really know what to make of that. (Are you all, 'Maybe next time figure it out BEFORE you hit publish?)

I have spent a lot of time thinking about how inconsistent I am.  I have berated myself, I think, for continually stopping and starting.  At the very least, I have wished that my range had a top and a bottom that were, you know, maybe TEN pounds apart, instead of THIRTY.

And yet.

In my cycles that wax and wane, I easily overlook the times that I've 'Waxed on Exercise and Paying Attention to Eating' and 'Waned on Not Exercising and Shoving My Face,' in favor of feeling and living in the frustration of having to 'do it all over again.'

Does that make sense?

I've been in great shape in my lifetime.  I mean, great shape.  More than once. (I'm not just talking about weight.) And for me (and I'm ONLY speaking for me, trust,) it doesn't take a whole lot of painful sacrifice to get where I want to be.  I remember the last time that I was Waxing on Exercise and Paying Attention to Eating, a coworker asked me 'what I was doing.'  I told her that I was just exercising regularly and watching what I ate.  'Oh, I don't want to hear about that,' she said.

I clearly remember thinking that there is no terrible sacrifice for me when I'm doing the things that will get me to my goal.  It just (for me! ONLY ME!) takes a consistent, day-in-day-out performance. 

That's where I get hung up.  In case you're new here or are the Biggest Skimmer Ever.

But why don't I look at it through a new viewfinder?  Like, why don't I think that I've done this before and so...I know how to do it?  I know what to do.  My body is strong and it remembers.  It wants to remember.  Why don't I think, in the morning, that each day is like a bead on an abacus, that could move me toward or away from my goal?  So, each day, all day, I've only got to deal with, you know, that day? 

I think I'll try it.

I want to lose the weight.

I don't like the way I look right now but I don't disgust myself.  I have no self-loathing for the way I look, even if I don't accept or embrace it.  If you know what I'm saying.  I don't feel like a bad person or a failure for getting myself here.  I'm not proselytizing the new religion of *fitness.*  I'm not making excuses for why I've gained the weight.  I'm not lying to myself about the effort that will be necessary to take it off and keep it off.

I'm not wanting to be perfect.  I don't think I'm going to be super happy or that all my problems will go away.  I don't think it's all about looks. Although, I prefer my body a smaller size and I want to fit into my old clothes.

I'm not judging, though, if you want to lose weight, or lost weight, in order to feel more attractive.  Or, if you think it's more attractive to be slim.  Or, even, if you think it's the *only* attractive and that *everyone* should be slim.  I'm not judging if self-reproach or making physical activity/food intake a kind of moral issue is motivating to you.  I'm really and truly not. 

I'm not judging you, even if you're judging me. 

I'm a firm believer in the Whatever Works for You school of thought.  There's room enough for all of us on this great big ball of dirt on which we all reside.  Even if some of us are chubby.

I want to lose the 30 pounds. 

Maybe, possibly, hopefully, for the last time.

OMG.

I was ker-AZY this holiday season, folks.

KER. AZY.

But I'm over it now.  The cookies are all [in mah belly] gone, the candy is [in mah belly] done and I got a couple new books for the recumbent bike cardio-fest.

I'm good to go. 

Weights and measures going up later this week.

How are you guys?

Workout Log

Today I went to the gym and LO! Acted like a grown-up when dropping off The Littlest New Girl (imagine!)

Anyway.

I did 30 minutes on the recumbent bike (while peddling my ass off, I am reading Wally Lamb's new book.)

And then I did resistance training.  I decided instead of the whole body shebang, I'd just start back with splitting the upper and lower body and doing one on Tuesday and one on Thursday for a few weeks, to see how it goes.

Today I did upper body.  I did one exercise for each part, two sets of twelve reps/set. (Weak, yes, but I'm just starting back and don't like to be IMMOBILE for three days after working out.  I used 10lb dumbbells for everything but the triceps, for which I used 12s.

It went thusly:
Bis: Hammer Curls
Chest: Bench Press
Shoulders: Extensions
Tris: French Press
Back: Heavy Pants
Abs: Crunches (legs extended) and Obliques w/10lbs.  (I did 2 sets of 25 for abs.)

It doesn't look like much but I imagine that I'll be sore tomorrow and be looking forward to strictly cardio for Wednesday..

I know it's shitty form.  I KNOW.

Well, There's One Way To Get The Heart Rate Up.

Here's my New Plan: I'm going to go to the gym every morning from Monday-Thursday (I babysit The Nephew on Friday Mornings.)  I'm going to do Cardio on Mondays/Wednesdays for 45 minutes and on Tuesday/Thursday, I'm going to do shorter Carido workouts and an all-body-combination-type free-weight and/or machine workout.  Anyone have any good ones that they like?  I'm still shooting to add a day (or afternoon workout, perhaps a yoga class or some other flexibility type workout in per week.)

We'll talk about the eating later in the week *hem hem.*

Anyway.

I took The Littlest New Girl to The Kids' Club today.  As you may remember, she's a little touch and go in there.  Although, I have to say that since the summer?  She's been pretty steady-amazing.  She stays in there, playing with the 'Bay-bies' for a full 40-45 minutes before whining commences.  WhoooYAY!

I still don't dawdle in the dropping-off portion, mind.  I [dump and run, yo] escort her in, supply her with the requisite [germ-trap] bay-bies and I'm off to self-improve.  Most of the employees of the kids' club are fine.  A-okay with me.  TLNG needs not so much in the way of care, really, as what benefits her most is, er, a little [backing the fuck up off her] space and a place to roam.  As she's fully bipedal now, the world is her [place to trash] oyster.

So, today I go in and the woman behind the counter (read: not supervising the kids, but looking at the computer screen) is an older woman, whom I've seen once.  That time I saw her, she was surrounded by kids but had another person working with her.  She left a hand-made sign up sheet out, in which I was supposed to transcribe all my own information in for her to put into the computer later.  WTF? I'd never seen it before and so I asked her if the computer was broken (which is how every other employee enters your info.)  'No,' she told me, 'I just keep that there so I can do it when I get around to it.'

Um.

Kay.

Today I went in and I'm saying, she's standing at the computer while my kid is in there, finding her own babies with the other kids, and I leave my keys there and try to [skate because, woman, the clock is ticking] get my stuff and leave. I put my name on the sheet but I figure, fuck, you're standing right there and so I skip the rest.  But I'm aggravated.  Because she's got, like, some fucking show on the tv that is obviously for her and not the kids.  It wasn't anything super inapropriate but someone talking about [how to contact your dead next of kin] 'mediums' or whatever.  Not that I need my kid getting hooked on yet ANOTHER kid-show blah blah, but for whatever reason?  It pissed me off.

Then she turned around and told me that I had to write my barcode and my name on the sheet.

And I snapped at her. 

I told her that I left my keys for her and all the information was right on there and no one else has a sign in and then?  I left.

I have no idea why she pissed me off so or why I [acted like a three-year-old] reacted that way.  TLNG was fine and didn't fuss, despite the few minutes extra I stood around to bite a head off.  And when I came back, my girl was walking around in the midst of a gazillion kids, playing and having fun.

I gave the woman a half-assed smile but I didn't apologize.

I didn't have an appetite for crow today.

Perhaps You (Mis)Heard.

Oh HEY!  How are you?  Were you here to check and see how hard my scale was laughing at me this morning? 

Well.

It went like this, see?  The Man woke me a little early to ask me if I could make him some breakfast for the road (since he woke up late.)  So I did (because I like him and he pays most of the bills.)  I went right to the kitchen and made him two egg sandwiches [and one for me], forgetting COMPLETELY the deal that I'd struck with you [both] all yesterday.

So.

I ate my [egg sandwich] breakfast and then I remembered that The Little Sister had invited us over for [croissants] breakfast at her house.  So when The Littlest New Girl woke up, I dressed her and headed over for [delicious flakiness] Second Breakfast [because I'm basically a Hobbit]. 

I did remember, eventually, that I had not weighed myself.  And the good news is [I still don't know the number lalalalalaaaa]  I was on my way to the gym when I recalled.  I'm going to remember tomorrow, for sure.

Also up: I'm trying out The Little Sister's workout of Teh Combination Moves.  I'll let you know more ASAP, but I can tell you this: I'm already sore. 

All Is Quiet On The Kid's Club Front

So, it looks as though my plan was/is, um, a success.  I don't want to jinx it.  I have been wary and unable to trust that my kid wasn't going to flip-shit on me and once again go into Level-5 Meltdown Mode upon being dropped off at the Kid's Club but it looks as though we've turned a corner.

A lovely, beautiful corner.

From here on in, it's going to be a process of stretching the length of time she's in there, so by the time late fall rolls around, I'll be able to do an entire workout in the gym.

*AHHH*

So, NOW what am I going to talk about?

Days Three and Four and Are You Fucking KIDDING Me?

Yesterday was Day Three of my plan.  And?  Perfect.  AGAIN. 

Friends, words cannot adequately express the enormity of my surprise (along with the surprise of every single person who has known my child for longer than a week.)  And while I am absolutely DELIGHTED at this flip-of-the-switch turnabout, I am leery and cynical and mistrusting by nature.  I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop (read: waiting for this kid to finally get hep to the jive and let me have it.)

Let me refresh your memory regarding the details of my plan (don't roll your eyes, it's impolite).  I was taking my morning fast-walks and THEN going to the gym, a mere half-hour before nap-time.  Just to lift one body part [with the speed of a road-runner, beep beep zip BANG] with the quickness before going in to rescue her from her torture.

But there's been NOTHING.  Not one day of crying.  Even after she's spent upwards of 20 minutes there.

SO.

Today (day 4) I decided to [put her little ass to the test] see if we were in some kind of alternate day-care universe or if she really was making progress.  We didn't go on our usual morning walk.  I decided since [I'm sore as hell from the jogging and the lifting] it was a 'rest day' for the weights, I'd just skip the outside walk and try to do a whole cardio session (40 min + 5 min cool down on a recumbent bike).

And it turns out?

She really seems to be making progress.

She was in that Kid's Club for almost FIFTY MINUTES.  The woman said that she started to 'fret' a little after about 35 minutes or so.

When I got there she smiled and hugged me, crawled into the little baby room, took a box of toys off the shelf and continued playing for 10 more minutes.  And trust me, when you're used to your eardrums bleeding with the volume of the screaming that never ends?  A little fret is a walk in the fucking park. 

Or, er, a bike ride in the gym.

Day Two: Shocked and Awed

Day two of my plan to [wear my crazy offspring down to the nub] help my baby adjust to the Kid's Club at the gym was, in a word, unbelievable.

I took her into the room that was rife with running and scampering children.  She was whimpering and clutching her Elmo and her Bunny. (Nothing quite so heartrending as seeing a whimpering cute baby holding two lovies in a death-grip, but I am DETERMINED, friends.)  I put her down on the floor with the Elmo toys that they have.  I kissed her head and off I went.  And?

I heard NOTHING.  No whimpering, no crying, no squalling.

I quick went to do a couple sets of back exercises and then I checked-in.  And?

Thumbs fucking UP!  What?

When I went in to get her (after I went and [played the LOTTERY] lifted shoulders), she was sitting next to a 5 year old girl who was doing things to entertain her.  She was, uh, happy.  She didn't even notice me sitting next to her.

Um.

So, as it turns out, I am the only one who is Shocked and Awed.

I'm still not ready to trust it totally.  But I'll keep you posted.

You're welcome.

Baby Step Progress and Some Inspiration

Today I decided to make a plan of attack to get TLNG to tolerate The Kid's Club at the gym.  And by 'plan of attack,' I mean a 'wear her the fuck out' plan.  A shock and awe plan (in which the childless, twenty-something baby sitters will be SHOCKED and in AWE of this kid's tenacity. And volume.)

Anyway, the plan goes like this:  TLNG and I will take our normal morning fast-walk and right after that, I will take TLNG to the gym with me EVERY DAY for a while (two weeks, in my mind) and leave her in the thingie for like, oh, enough time for me to lift one body part.  10-15 minutes, tops.  This way, I can break up my body parts to get each one a better workout and she'll only be in there screaming for a short time.  Then I'll go in and play with her until she's calm and then we'll leave.

Two weeks has got to do it, right?  RIGHT?

So, I started my plan today.  I [exploited her love of all things Elmo] collected all the toys with Hellmo on them and sat her little ass down, right in the middle of the pile.  I explained my plan to [Barbie] the girl working there and then I split.  And guess what?

Not a peep.  Nothing.  I checked back after I was done [crushing] lifting my biceps and?

Playing with Hellmo.

So I went back and lifted chest and triceps and?

I'm going to be so sore, I'm not going to be able to pick up my fork by dinner time.

And now this:

Did you all see this?  (Note that I say ALL, as though there's anyone actually READING this.)

It's an interesting story.  I like her blog and the interview was good.  I've been feeling like I'm failing at everything lately.  Some of it may be hormonal, it seems.  Even so, it sucks to feel that way.  When I get good cardio exercise regularly, my mood ALWAYS improves overall.  It's an anti-depressant.  I just have to find a way to get into the groove a little deeper.  Baby steps.

Anyway, the interview gave me a little inspiration.  A little nudge. 

And these days, I'll take the inspiration wherever I can get it.