Feb
5
February 5, 2007
I stepped on the scale this morning and saw this: 143.
I weighed 149, I think, the last time I got on this same scale. It was at the end of the day, and I know that makes a difference, and plus, our scale is kind of hoopty, but STILL. WTF, I say. W.T.F. I look the same, I swear. Shouldn’t my jeans require an extra belt-hitch or something?
Anyway, thank you so much for your suggestions and ideas and commiseration, I can’t tell you how comforting/inspiring/all-around-awesome it is to get feedback on the whole nonthrilling exercise issue.
(I, uh, bought a “Turbo Jam” DVD. Which hopefully will get used, unlike my Carmen Electra Aerobic Striptease DVD which I’ve always been too embarrassed to actually follow.)
This week pretty much nothing is going to happen workout-wise, though, because I’m on single parent duty and really, that’s a cardio routine all on its own. From the military shower in the morning (soap up, rinse off, you’re OUT OF THERE SOLDIER) to the paranoid cell-phone checking to the Mint-400-style drive to daycare in the evening, my heart rate stays nicely elevated all day long. In fact, I might need to replenish my ion supply soon, and lucky for me JB has access to such a thing in Taipei right now:
Yes, nothing like a refreshing can of Pocari Sweat to put the spring back in your step. Mmm mmm.
We talked with JB via webcam tonight and while Riley was excited and laughed hysterically at JB zooming his face towards his own camera and acting goofy, when it came time to sign off he broke down in tears. “Ba ba,” he sobbed, waving his little hand. “Ba ba Da Da.”
Oh, our little boy. He’s growing up so fast. Look:
I feel the need, periodically, to publicly declare my love for him, and so indulge me when I say he brightens my life in every possible way, he is the sunshine and the smell of everything happy and good. His stumpy, fast-forward walk makes me smile, the way his cornsilk hair feels under my hand soothes every bit of me. He frustrates me to no end, and yet my love for him grows and grows and grows, every day, every day. It’s just as I worried, when he was a newborn: will I keep loving him more? And more? How can I stand it? And the answer is yes, you will keep loving more and more and more, beyond what you ever thought you could stand, and your heart will accommodate.
Feb
4
February 4, 2007
I don’t think I’ve lost any weight so far on the It’s Not a Diet It’s a Lifestyle Change ‘program’. I switched out most of the foods I was eating for much healthier alternatives, but 1) I’m still not really watching total calories and 2) I repeatedly find excuses for cheating. #2 is killing me, if I really take a look at the reasons I’ve given myself permission to make bad decisions about food in the last TWO WEEKS, there is:
• I never get to go out for dinner so I should order a five-course meal
• We never get to see movies in the theater so I should order a massive box of Junior Mints
• The in-laws are visiting so I should have a second helping of potatoes
• It’s late and I had a busy day and there’s nothing to make for dinner except these cheese-filled tortellinis, oopsy
• Riley flayed my nerves to bloody stumps all day long so I should have some low fat frozen yogurt that I kid myself is not that bad for me even though it’s caramel-flavored and is made by Haagen-Fucking-Dazs for god’s sake
• Say, when you put some cheese on a rice cake it’s not half bad
Etc. Wow, I wonder why I haven’t lost any weight?
Oh well, one thing I have learned in life is that you can’t let yourself be flattened under the weight of your own inertia, if today you sabotaged your goal then tomorrow is a fresh start. Otherwise, it’s far too easy to get trapped in a pathological spiral of in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-pound (which, by the way, goes nicely hand in hand with “Everyone already thinks I’m a fuckup so I will prove just how wrong they are — I’m not just a fuckup, I’m a COLOSSAL fuckup with fucked icing on top and a side of fuck-me-running. Ha, teach them to underestimate!”), and so I will summon a renewal of purpose, a redoubling of efforts, and as god is my witness, I will NOT eat my way through a bag of Tostitos Scoops today even though I believe Superbowl Sunday is historically considered a national day of celebrating Munchy McMasticate, Patron Saint of Snacking.
No, instead there shall be carrot sticks. And lo, they will be…rabbity.
As I refocus on the whole eating thing (including a nearly religious devotion to Leah’s Big-Ass Salad™) I’m recognizing there’s a major gap in my overall plan, which is the exercise factor. We have a lot of strength training type gym equipment in the garage, and JB and I have been pretty good about going out there in the evenings to lift weights after Riley goes to bed, but I need to be doing something cardio-wise.
I should get up around 6 AM, before Riley wakes up, and go running in my neighborhood, but uhhhh….I really, really don’t want to get up at 6 AM. The only thing that would be worse than getting up at 6 AM would be getting up at 6 AM in order to work out.
That’s really my best option, though, because getting to a gym is problematic, getting to a structured class is problematic, and frankly, leaving the house for any reason with Riley in tow is getting to be problematic as hell.
I’m not completely inactive, though. Why, just yesterday Riley and I walked to the park at the end of our block! And it only took an hour and a half. Gosh, walking with toddlers is interesting, you sure get to appreciate every blade of grass you glacially pass by.
Tell me this, if you’re in a similar situation where you can’t get to a gym whenever you please, what do you do for exercise?
(P.S. I’ll be posting “JB’s picks” over at SundryBuzz this week, for a macho change of pace. Come visit! It’s penis-friendly!)
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