Broken Record

I'm not doing a very good job at keeping up with this blog...but I want to do a better job, so does that mean I get an A for ambition? In any case, I'm droppin' my knowledge now, so that's got to count for something, right?

So anyway...as I mentioned last month, I am currently trying to lose weight (yeah yeah, it's the same old story, still trying to lose weight just like I was a year ago). But THIS time, I have a whole staff (ok fine. only 2 people.) of expensive health professionals to help keep me accountable.

Today, I met with the newest member of my health and wellness squad. I now have a dietician that I am seeing every other week to go with my personal trainer, who I am now seeing twice a week. I feel like quite the rich bitch with my fancy-schmancy gym, personal trainer, and dietician. If they can't help keep me accountable, then maybe my diminishing checking account that's funding my fitness entourage will do the trick.

Even though both of my trainer (Greg) and my dietician (Laura) have succeeded in making me cry (the scale's a bitch after all, and oh! the aches and pains of squats!), I absolutely adore them both. When I met with Laura this evening, I took a body composition test that confirmed I have some lbs to shed (uh....duh), but I have a lot more muscle mass than I realized (I'm above average! I'm strong!) It was actually kind of empowering to confirm what I really am a relatively healthy person hiding underneath a layer of pudge. And it gave me hope that maybe, despite the extra weight I’ve been carrying around for the past 7 years, I really can get back to my former pre-2005 average-weighted self. Today at Laura's urging, I am completely abandoning the scale, and until I meet my weight goal, she will be the only one who knows my weight. I am also focusing on the ‘small wins’ and realistic, attainable goals. My first tasks? Cut out 1 diet-soda a day (since artificial sweeteners can apparently induce cravings), double my current level of water intake, and keep a food diary of what I eat (but no calorie counting – just the food tracking). Sounds easy enough – I can do this!

Tomorrow morning bright and early I have a training session. Right now, these workouts scare the shit out of me. Because I’ve been a runner (albeit slow) on and off for years, I am in really great cardio condition. But, I suck when it comes to muscle conditioning. In my last session, the weight lifting shot my heart rate up so fast, that I got dizzy and my trainer had to get me apple juice while I sat with my head between my knees. How. Utterly. Embarrassing. My trainer was very reassuring, and promised me that if I keep up with my workouts, I will overcome. So, I’m choosing to rise above my embarrassment and persevere. Hopefully by the end of the year, I’ll be 80% of the woman I used to be! As they say, Time (...and my check book) Will Tell.

TMI

Did you know Cafe Press has an entire page devoted to corn poop T-shirts?

The one below is my fave. I often threaten to buy one of these tees for Brian. Actually, what I tell him is that I plan to order his-and-hers versions of the shirt so we can be twins and wear them together. Sometimes he's amused by this...other times, not so much.

His birthday IS coming up soon...maybe it's time to make good on my threat.



Also FYI -- Apparently you can buy corn poop underwear too. That's crossing the line, I think...especially the thongs.

Namaste Mother******

The peg-leg hooker upstairs is stomping around like a woman scorned. That's the nickname B and I gave to our upstairs neighbor, because she clomps around at all hours of the night on what are either a set of extreme stilettos, or a peg leg (or...option three - both??). Anyway, someone musta done screwed her over good because, holy hell, she is yelling at someone at the top of her lungs, stompety stomping all over the place right now! I've never met her, but I'm sure she's quite pleasant.

Anyway, I went to yoga on Friday for the first time in a long time (peg leg hooker could stand to get her yoga on, if I do say so). I've missed the practice, but...this was not quite what I had in mind. We were in shavasana for about a third of the class, and for the remaining two-thirds, we held 3 poses total. I enjoy pigeon pose as much as the next gal, but I was hoping for something with a little more flow to it.

I have an appointment with my new personal trainer on Friday, and I cannot wait to meet him. When the membership woman at Pure (my gym) asked me about my fitness goals to help pair me up with an appropriate trainer, I told her on thing only - I wanted a trainer who could coach me in boxing. I miss boxing, which I got into a little bit when I lived in Chicago, and there is no other work out quite like it. I have never fought anyone (and don't plan to), but boxing as a form of exercise is the absolute best work out and stress release I have experienced. Pure does not have any boxing classes, thus I'm turning to Greg. If he lets me down, I may explore a boxing gym - I miss it that much.

I've been having some "Fight Club" type moments lately (maybe the desire to resume boxing was my first clue?). Tyler Durden is invading my thoughts with his gentle wisdom that I'll share with you now:

You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis.

I've decided to interpret this wisdom as I need to de-clutter. I know it's not quite what T-Dogg meant, and I'm doing the recalibrate/re-prioritize/get-centered/be less materialistic stuff too, but for purposes of this post's last little nugget of fun, let's focus on the de-clutter bit. I'm starting my de-clutter project with a full scale attack on the 3+ year stack of mail that I have sitting in my closet. This weekend I have spent a solid 4 hours sorting old mail and shredding documents. Who has two thumbs and a rock star lifestyle? This girl!

Listening to: Frank Sinatra by Cake