"Loft"y Goals

Hubs took the day off work today. Our original plan was to spend the day in the yard, cleaning up flower beds, planting, and such. But the weather did not agree with us. It was cold and rainy -- not ideal "let's get outside" weather. So what did we do? We decided to have a day date, and headed to the mall for window shopping and a movie.

At the mall, I pulled Hubs into one of my dream stores...Ann Taylor Loft. (Try not to laugh -- far beneath my tattooed, formerly punk-rock exterior lies a very preppy girl who would happily spend her days in a pencil skirt and a cardigan.) I have never, ever in my adult life been able to try on (let alone purchase) clothes from this store. It's always been out of my size range and my price range. But I love the clothes. They're simple, well made, and just...the kind of clothes I'd like to wear.

We walked around the store, and I pointed out things that I liked. A blouse, a dress, an outfit. It never crossed my mind to try anything on until I saw this jacket. I am an absolute sucker for a trench coat (maybe it's my inner flasher!), and I love dark denim. I saw the price tag ($98! What in the ham sandwich!) and quickly inventoried the rack to see what the largest size was. L. Large. Big sigh. There's no way, I thought. The trench I have at home is a XXL from Old Navy. There's no way a Large from Ann Taylor -- land of the teeny tiny ladies -- would even fit over my monster shoulders! But I decided to pull it off the hanger anyway, just for a laugh. Just to confirm what I already knew, that my big sausage arms and flabby belly wouldn't fit, that I'd end up looking like Chris Farley from that famous scene in "Tommy Boy."


"Fat man in a little coaaaat..."

But lo and behold! That doggone trench FIT. And not super tight, second skin, if I starve for a week and put on some Spanx "fit," I mean it ACTUALLY FIT. I was so excited. I knew we couldn't afford it, and it didn't even upset me that I couldn't have it. And the look on my husband's face...he was so happy for me, so proud of me.

Just knowing that jacket is hanging up in my dream store, and it fits me...that's enough. It's enough to know that my hard work is paying off, that all these years and months of struggling have gotten me so far, that the days when I'll be able to fit into EVERYTHING at Ann Taylor are not far away. It's enough.

195.2

Woo hoo! That's a 4.6lb loss, friends!

Ten Things

I really enjoyed Renée's positive post today, so I decided to do my own. (Well, not so much the week in review, but the Ten Things part.)

10 Things to Look Forward to This Week

1. Hanging out with Rachel tomorrow afternoon (MacArthur, here we come!)
2. Working out!
3. Work. I really do love my job.
4. My birthday! It's Thursday.
5. A manicure and pedicure, thanks to my mom, on Thursday.
6. Like Renée, I only work three days this week.
7. Dinner and a kid-free night on Friday.
8. Sleeping in on Saturday morning.
9. Possibly getting my hair cut (the back is growing out & fast approaching mulletdom).
10. Clothes shopping. Now that I'm in "normal" sizes, I actually enjoy it.

How about you? What are you excited about this week?

203.2

I know my normal weigh-in day is Friday, but I was feeling so good after my run this morning that I couldn't help but hop on the scale. A new low, I think? SWEET!

Note: I checked my old posts, and this IS indeed my all-time low since I started blogging about my weight. I'm beyond stoked.

GPOYW: Progress

Let's go back in time today. Back to just over a year ago. What did July of 2009 look like?

Oh yeah...fat.


I look happy, but I was so miserable. I felt awful in the outfit I had on, and I felt even worse when I saw the pictures that showed just how fat I looked. This was my wake-up call picture.

So what does July of 2010 look like? Well, it's a heck of a lot different, kiddos:


What a difference thirty pounds makes. Go me!

Disabling Cookies

At my request, Hubs brought home some Pepperidge Farm cookies on Tuesday night. My two favorite kinds: Milanos and Brussels (I've got a thing for Europe, what can I say?). After dinner, I put two of each cookie on a paper towel and nibbled them as I cleared the table and played with Kid. The strangest thing happened while I ate them:

I REALIZED THEY WEREN'T VERY GOOD.

This realization gets its own line, and capitalization why? Because I love cookies. ALL cookies. But especially Pepperidge Farm cookies. I used to wait until they were on sale and buy bag after bag of them, stashing them everywhere, eating an entire package at a time. I would go into a cookie trance: hand to bag, hand to mouth, hand back in bag. I even tried to hide how many of them I was eating by crumpling up the empty paper cup thingies and using them to prop up the last cookie in the bag. (My idea was that if somebody peeked in the bag, they'd see that cookie and think it was the last one in the first layer of cookies.) When I started getting in shape for the nine millionth time, I issued a self-imposed ban on these little buggers. No more! I said to myself. Not in this house! NO COOKIES!

I caved on Tuesday and asked Hubs to bring them home because I'm struggling with serious sugar cravings right now, mostly because I'm taking pain medication. As I've mentioned before, every time I go on heavy-duty pain meds (i.e. Percocet), I end up with insane, mind-bending sugar cravings that can only be eased by eating, well, SUGAR. My theory is that because the pain meds slow down my digestive system, my food is being digested/absorbed much slower than usual. And then I think my body kind of panics and says, "THERE'S NO FOOD IN HERE! SEND SOMETHING QUICK!" and makes me berserk for the easiest, quickest energy source (sugar). I've been keeping the Sugar Monster at bay by eating fruit and sucking on the occasional LifeSaver -- although quite frankly after the hospital I'm sick of those things -- but on Tuesday it was just out of control.

So there we are...another food obsession seems to have bitten the proverbial dust. I'm feeling a weird combination of relief, pride, and sadness. Relief, because really? Who wants to be a slave to a cookie? Pride because I can now see those cookies anywhere and know they're not the boss of me anymore. But why sadness?

I'm a little sad I suppose because who I am is changing (has changed). So much of my identity is based on me being the chubby, nerdy best friend, the funny fat girl, all of those stereotypes. But I don't want to be that anymore. I don't feel like I am that as much as I was even a year ago. And that leads me to the question, "Who am I NOW?" Or, more importantly, "Who do I want to be?" The answers to those questions aren't totally clear just yet. I know I have a lot of changing left to do, both internally and externally. I know that one's identity is never really set or fixed; it's always in flux, and that's okay.

Who do I want to be?

GPOYW and HOLY COW!

Thanks to Photojojo, I recently discovered a fun intarwebs trend called "Gratuitous Picture Of Yourself Wednesday" or GPOYW. Apparently everybody likes to do self-portraits on Wednesdays, and who am I to argue? They're fun, and on Wednesdays I usually don't have much to write about here. So, here's my first one:

Aside from the fact that I need some waxing and a fashion intervention, I think I look pretty good! Not bad for somebody who got hacked open on the operating table less than a week ago.

But what's "HOLY COW" about, you may be wondering. Well, right after I snapped this picture, I grabbed my phone and called to set up my NCE test date. HO. LY. COW! I can't believe I'm finally going to get this done. My test is on March 20th, so feel free to send good ju-ju my way on that day.

Just to clarify why this is such a big deal...I graduated from massage school in 2007. That's right, THREE YEARS AGO. And I never signed up for my certification test, until now. What's even worse is that I went through school TWICE because I didn't finish all the program requirements the first time. Anyway! That's the past! Now I'm done with school, I've scheduled my test, and before long I'll be free from the Green Apron Empire and on my way to building a successful massage therapy practice.

219

219. A bar from which I was once forcibly ejected with a painter named Dwight Easter. Also? My weight as of this morning. Response to both situations: ABSOLUTE SHOCK.

I've taken the last two weeks totally off from exercising. As I mentioned in my last post, my knee has been bothering me more and more, and finally I just decided to put the brakes on and give myself a good solid rest. I've been enjoying it -- sleeping past 3 AM is nice, for sure. But in the back of my mind was a little nagging voice saying, "You're going to gain it all baaaaaaaaaack!" I wasn't going crazy with food, but I definitely didn't stick to the plan Smith gave me. (There was a little incident with cream cheese frosting, too.)

So when I hopped on the scale this morning, my jaw dropped. 219?! What the HELL?! I moved the scale three times just to make sure it was on a good, level spot. Yep, still 219. Wow.

Two things occurred to me. First, I realized that my worst food days over the last two weeks don't even come close to my "bad" days from before. I'm not eating donuts, whole pizzas, soda, or other crap like I used to. And the things I did indulge in were (mostly) homemade, meaning they weren't full of preservatives, sodium, nitrates, or any other garbage.

The second thing I realized (for the millionth time) is that I have to stop being so hard on myself. All these changes I'm making are going to take time to sink in. And really, it is always going to be a battle for me. Always. There will never be a magical day where I wake up and never want to eat anything but lean protein and vegetables, a day where I want to exercise for a million hours and have a huge grin on my face the whole time. It's always going to suck a little teeny bit. Have I learned that I feel MUCH BETTER when I eat right and exercise? Absolutely! But I'm also coming to accept that there are things I like that aren't super healthy, and that's okay. It's okay to have a slice of pizza, a cupcake, a glass of wine. I just can't do it every meal, every day.

Anyhoo...my posting has been (and may continue to be, at least for a little while) sporadic, mostly because of holiday craziness. I've also changed my weigh-in day to Friday, simply because a good loss will a) give me something to be happy about over the weekend and b) keep me from over-doing it on the two days a week that I do most of my socializing.

I've also found two fantastic weight loss blogs that you HAVE to check out. The first, Escape from Obesity, is really well-written, and full of fantastic insights. I find myself nodding and saying "YES!" almost every time I read it. Then there's Bitchcakes, which has great Weight Watchers info. Plus, the writer is gorgeous and an amazing photographer (her pictures of NYC make me want to move there. For reals.). So if you need something to read and you're not finding it here, go check those two ladies out!

Hope your holidays are rolling along smoothly...I'll post again soon!

Wet-Shoe Shuffle

I did my first 5K yesterday. Holy SHIIIIIIIIIIIT!

When I woke up, it was freezing cold, wet, raining, the works. Imagine the worst possible running weather, and this was pretty much it. Part of me started screaming, "You're NOT doing this, not in this weather! No way! Stay home and warm and dry with your boys!"

So I texted my pal Peggy, the fantastic friend who encouraged me to sign up in the first place, and asked if we were really going to do this today. She of course said, "Yep!" (Peggy is a comittment-aholic, she never gives up on ANYTHING!) She told me she wouldn't be upset if I didn't want to run. But I said, "Nope, I'm going to be there. I'm doing it."

We met up at Webb Center and got our numbers and time chips, and had plenty of time left to sit and chat before the race. I had some butterflies, but I thought, "The hard part's over -- you showed up!"

When we lined up for the start, we went to the back of the pack. We sized up our fellow runners -- pregnant chick, lots of teenagers, several people with baby joggers, and one lady who looked like she was about 100 years old. I told Peg that we had to at least finish ahead of the pregnant chick. Peg reminded me that it didn't matter, that all we had to do was finish, and that she was going to be right there with me the whole time (HELLO, THANKS FOR MAKING ME WANT TO CRY, FRIEND!).

I started out pretty strong, despite the fact that my knee was still killing me (more on that later). I'd guess we ran about a quarter mile before I really needed to slow down for a bit. And that's how we did the whole run -- jogged a bit, walked a bit. I can't believe how much fun we had. Peg sang ridiculous songs (she had her MP3 player going, I'd forgotten mine) like "I Like Big Butts" and "Lunchlady Land." She pointed out that I was laughing and talking...WHILE RUNNING. She stuck with me the whole way, even when there was a crazy guy standing in the middle of the sidewalk giving a vocal performance that sounded like a drowning Siamese cat.

We finished together in about 50 minutes. Not super speedy, but I think it's a respectable time. I wanted to finish, and to finish in under an hour, and I did both. Yay! We didn't beat the pregnant chick, or the grandma, or the folks with baby joggers, but we FINISHED.

After the race we were both cold, wet, and tired. Peg headed to Starbucks, and I headed home, where I promptly fell dead asleep while snuggled up with the Kid.

This morning, I feel really accomplished. Running in public is one of my silly phobias, and I overcame it (albeit briefly) to run in full view of an entire college campus and a major roadway, as well as about 100 "real" runners. It's given me a good kick in the pants, and a good boost to how I'm feeling about myself. I'm getting back in the swing of things, and I want to tackle another 5K in the spring.

In less super-yay news, my knee is getting really, really bad. It's a hard feeling to describe, but essentially it feels like there's a piece of something crunchy wedged between my patella (knee cap) and my tibia (leg bone). When I walk or run uphill, there's a loud popping noise. When I run at all, I feel a sharp stabby feeling at the site of the crunchy bit (wow, check out THAT medical terminology). I think I may have to head to the doc before long and get it checked out. I'm dreading the thought of possibly needing knee surgery, but if that's what I have to do, then I'll do it. Right now, though, I'm just pushing forward as best I can.

Shoegazer

I was feeling a little funky this morning, so I decided to try on my old "feel good" shoes. I haven't been able to wear these since before I got pregnant (early 2007). Pregnancy made my feet swell to inhuman proportions, and unfortunately they stayed that size thanks to my weight gain. I didn't think I'd be able to get into them; I braced myself for disappointment.

But, lo and behold!

That's right. THEY FIT. AND THEY FIT WELL. No pinching, no rubbing, no "O dear lord why did I wear THESE today?"

My mood's been lifted ever since. Woo hoo!