10 pounds down 32 pounds to go!

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

"Sure.We can work out after school. You know... If you're not too busy having sex with my mother."

It seems to have taken forever but I've finally gotten down to 170 on the new scale. This new scale business has really thrown off my reality, not that it matters I suppose. I'm still fatter than I want to be so why worry about the actual number. It's sort of blowing my mind lately how little I know my body. I'm the same size I was in college but all my rings are too big and so are my shoes. Of all the places I want to lose weight, fingers and toes aren't on the top of my list but what can you do.

In the great closet clean-out of yesterday I found some pants I wore in highschool. They're Limited size twelves from ten years ago. They fit me through most of college if you count fitting as zippering and buttoning 80% of the time. I tried them on last night and lo they fit exactly the same as when I bought them, badly. First and foremost they're too long for me. I'm just not tall enough, or long-legged enough to wear pants that aren't short. Why I didn't have that clarity in highschool I don't know, it's not like I got shorter since. Second, the waist is distinctly too small for the size. I know, I know, that's what all fat people say but really the cut is just all wrong. Unless it's supposed to be pouffy around the rear and thighs and fit at the unnaturally high waist, it's a bad cut. I've been carting these damn pants around for ten years for no reason.

The really bad part is that they were one of my grail items. They were the pants that I loved that I really wanted to fit into again. Why did I love them in the first place? They were expensive, atleast for a highschooler, they're a relatively swank brand but not that special, not anymore anyway. I think what I liked the best about them was that they were small, wearing them must have made me feel good. I've been carrying them around like they're gold, ten year old corduruoys that are too long, too tight, too pouffy and genuinely out of style this many years later just because they were the smallest pants I ever fit into. What a waste of energy.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

On being the bank's bitch

I read a lot of websites about money, and debt and just general finance. I spend more time researching personal finance now than when I was my most indebted, ironic. Anyway, I guess I wandered into the right job because finance really does fascinate me. Reading about banks, what people think of banks and what their experiences are is fascinating. Fascinating and frustrating and sometimes downright infuriating.

I might have a chip on my shoulder about this because I work in a bank and I hear a lot about fees and how unfair the bank is and all that jazz. Last week my boss wandered into an article titled: "Banks to customers: Drop Dead". Now that's just silly. If our customers were dead who'd pay our salaries? The first line is my favorite though: Who's coming to the rescue? The rescue? Sure, it sucks that you signed a variable rate mortgage for a house you couldn't afford but it's not the bank's fault. The bank didn't make you buy a house you couldn't afford, you made that choice for yourself.

Banking is one of America's most regulated industries but what does that mean to a customer? It means that the bank has to give you fine print details on any potential way they can screw you. If I don't hand out the right papers when I open an account for someone it means the bank is in violation of the law and then I get fired. I can agree with people who complain about service and ineptitude at their bank, mediocrity is everywhere but you're the customer. There is no shortage of banks and no reason not to shop around, you don't have to do business anywhere that doesn't meet your standards and needs. I'm worn out over hearing people complain about things they can control and choose not to, atleast financially.

Why am I on this today all of a sudden, because I read this amazing article, blurb, whatever about the housing "crisis" this morning. Can you call whiplash consumerism a crisis? Losing your house to a fire is a crisis. A flood is a crisis, a never ending war with an increasing death toll...that's a crisis. Wanting more than you have and leveraging your future to get it is dangerous and foolish, but it's not a crisis.

There are some other great money articles on that site, one about going homeless to pay off debt. That may be extreme for most, but it worked and I admire the dedication. I've gotten to the point where when I hear that someone is in debt over their heads but they still have the Tivo and the internet and a shiny new car and eat out all week...I just have no sympathy anymore. If that's the life you want and you're willing to pay for it from beyond the grave, go for it. Just don't blame the bank, it's not the banks fault, no more than it's McDonald's fault that people who eat there three meals a day get fat. Forget flouride, they should put personal responsibility in the water.

Does it get cold in California?

That would be snow, on my car, this morning. I'm not best pleased. It's only October and I need to grow some because 30 degrees is nothing. It's balmy. January and the survival panic inducing cold that comes with it is going to kick my ass if I don't get over it. It occurs to me that it might help if I bought warm clothes, you know, like wool. All of my skinny pants that fit best right now were bought in the spring and summer and are decidedly not made of wool. As much as I don't want to buy more clothes in this size it's not reasonable to wear cotton all year. Not here anyway. It's time to get some new winter duds.

The questions is what to do with the old ones? I've got limited space and a desire to not be a twelve come spring, so I'm going to donate my current warm weather stuff. Normally, I'd take it down to the SPCA box and do a dump and run. We have a little disagreement over whether bags are yardsale items or not, I say not, so I'm always in fear they'll yell at me for donating. The horror! Instead of running from my charity this time, I think I'll pack some things up for this organization pointed out on Fat Chic.

They're collecting clothing for victims of the fires in California. They're also collecting bags and belts and all the other things you might need to, you know, live a normal life. Oh, and money too if that's your thing. They're particularly in need of plus size clothes. We all know it's hard enough to find plus sized clothes when you aren't in an emergency. If you've got clothes in good condition and you don't need 'em, send them along. You'll do more than just make someone's day.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Halloween Candy Bitch-fest 2007

If Trader Joe's made a better can of black bean soup, I wouldn't have had a lunch of mini Snickers. It is totally their fault. The vegetarian chili is good, why not the black bean soup? I'm at the end of the line with convenience style black bean soup. The canned version stinks, the dry add hot water version really stinks. It looks like I'm going to have to actually cook it myself, which I'm sure is a violation of my bean soup civil rights. I'm certain of it. I'm so calling my lawyer.

This morning was rough, but this afternoon rocks. The best thing about having a long complicated morning is that the afternoon flies by comparison. I've had time to take a look back at Halloween last year and think about this eating candy all the time malarky. Last year I wanted to be the person who doesn't buy a bunch of cheap candy just because it's cheap. I wanted that crap off my radar. Reading that puts into very sharp focus how much I haven't achieved lately. Instead of thinking "cheap over-marketed processed crap" whenever I see a pile of Halloween candy I've been thinking "yum". That is not ok. I guess I've been glossing over how I feel about these little things because I don't feel good about them and I don't want to think about it. Way to lead a healthy life.

It's not the specific foods that are a problem for me. Anything in moderation is ok, even Halloween candy. Things haven't been in moderation and I haven't been really thinking my decisions through. The last two weeks I've been making an effort to buy the right food and enough of it so that I don't get home and have to think about what's for dinner. This weekend we went to Freeport to pick up a dresser, I didn't do any outlet shopping because I didn't need to. I didn't need to and I really want to get out of debt and order my new computer more than I want to shop sales at Banana Republic. So why did we stop at Chili's for lunch when we could've gone home and had lunch at a perfectly reasonable hour? No one would've starved to death. It wasn't a particularly special place, or special meal. It was just lazy and there is no way that I can exercise enough to make up for lazy food decisions and still lose weight. I can't do both and it's getting old. I used to be so good at thinking "do I really want this" before sitting around to watch tv or eating a piece of bad candy. Time to flex the most important weight loss muscle, the brain.

"His blood sugar must be low. Carl, eat an orange!!!"

Something is up with me today because the only thing I can get excited about is hatchet murder. And it's very cold. And starting next week the sun will rise while I'm driving to work, and set while I'm driving home and why wait to be pissed off about that when I have all this free time today? I guess I'm a little grumpy today, I'm drinking some instant breakfast right now so if I'm writing puppies and sunshine by the end of this post we'll all know why. But what, it's only monday and a lot of things have gone wrong. In bullet form:

*It's not my fault you overdrew by 5000 dollars and got charged a load of fees. The bank sent you a letter on thursday that you overdrew. You got the letter friday. How can I get the letters out sooner, I dunno, I'm not psychic. Next time overdraw on wednesday, you'll get your letter sooner.

*"We can't change the date on this form, we have to go by this date and it's the wrong date, can you edit the date and make it the right date, I know I just said you can't but can you because then it would be fixed, you know, the dates have to be right."

*In a letter from Capital One: Dear Customer, you asked for more money and we won't give it to, sorry. Only I didn't ask for more money and when I called to see who was making requests on my behalf and how screwed up my account was you said it was a glitch. It's very bad for your credit score to be denied credit, especially if you didn't ask for it in the first place. This is where the hatchet murder comes in.

*Did I mention it's cold, I've been shaking all morning and the heat is at 11.

*Today was supposed to be a no candy day. It only took about twenty minutes of this, dare I say, crap to tempt me into one shiny wrapper and then another. Bite sized frozen Twix suck, and are no proper replacement for therapy or drunkenness.

Friday, October 26, 2007

"Haven't you figured it all out yet, with your enormous squishy frontal lobes?"

I should know better than to go grocery shopping without my list. I should really turn around and leave the second I realize I don't have it because no matter how hard I try, I will not remember what was on it. I will get home with no chicken and no onions but with Pepperidge Farm cookies because they were on sale. They're damn good cookies, but they just don't work as well in stir-fry as you'd think. So now I have to face the grocery gauntlet again in order to cook dinner. Aargh! I'm extra bummed about it because I made up my meal plan in advance and everything. I've been slacking on that lately and it's never good. That's how you end up at Pizza Hut crying into your pitcher of soda.

It's been a really long day. A long week. I'm so glad it's over. I'm looking forward to the weekend so I can go for a run, or atleast a walk. It's officially too dark to run before work and after work. Only three more dark ass months to go! It really does creep up on you, the shortening of the days. I don't mind so much when it's warm out, but when it's cold and dark it's just depressing. Matt has this lamp that's supposed to generate happy sunshine in your living room. We always have it on, it's great for facials if nothing else. Not that staring at the dirt in your pores is that great for the morale. I think it's time for a make your own fun weekend. Maybe I'll hide the magnifying mirror and the scale and put it all aside until Monday. And I'll do Pilates while I watch Pride and Prejudice. I spent my evening re-arranging my living room so I can watch the computer and the tv at the same time. I'm sure it defeats the point of Pilates to do it while watching Colin Firth's dive into the pond strip show but it's better than sitting still and breathing heavy.

Not so deceptively delicious

Matt's mom and I have long conversations about the care and feeding of a Matt in his native habitat. She's put a lot of effort into making sure he didn't literally starve to death when he was younger and very, very sick with Chron's. He's not as sick now, thankfully, but feeding him is still tricky. Mostly it's tricky because both his mom and I make a habit of sneaking things into his food. I almost never tell him what he's eating. It's just easier. "Oh, you don't like cheese? Have some Tiramisu. You'll like it!" and ofcourse he does. I did eventually tell him that the main ingredient is Mascarpone and maybe he should stop saying he doesn't like cheese when he eats it everytime I serve it, but it's more fun to fool him.

This week I finished up an experiment in whole wheat baking. I've been slowly incorporating whole wheat flour into some of his favorite cookie recipes. I finished up with completely whole wheat peanut butter cookies. Most of the recipes need more work but not the peanut butter, peanut butter is perfect as a whole wheat cookie. The only downside is that I got caught. He noticed the difference this time. He asked what I did differently...because he liked them better than usual.

I really shouldn't have been worried because I'm the one with the hang-up about whole wheat, not him. I really hate whole wheat bread. I know it's supposed to be better for me and all that, but instead of switching I just stopped eating white bread. I never bothered to do the research or compare labels. Earlier this summer I picked up some King Arthur Whole Wheat and White Whole Wheat flours to experiment with for baking for sale purposes. I never really got around to that for, uhm, a few reasons but I still had all this flour and there was no sense in letting it go to waste. I started out using it just to get rid of it, and then I found this table.

I couldn't believe it, it's almost 10 more grams of fiber in the whole wheat per cup. That means that two whole wheat peanut butter cookies have a gram of fiber while the white would have .2 grams. It makes me feel that much better about feeding him cookies every day, and better about stealing one or two for myself. So, I'm a convert. I still hate the bread and I'm not sure how the switch would work for a cake, but it's great with cookies. I can't believe it's been almost two years of trying to live a healthier life and I just got around to whole wheat cookies. Next epiphany: Jazzercise!

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Well duh...

This is an article about, well, a lot of things. Education, youth, government, and randomly junkfood. I'm in accord with most of it, I'm sure we'll be living a real life Idiocracy soon if not already. I'm not sure what point they're trying to prove with the word junkfood here and there. Kids don't get enough exercise, no one does. There's too much tv watching and too much standardized testing. The junkfood though: do we eat it because we're stupid, or stupid because we eat it. I'm not sure what they're trying to say there.


Chairman Meow is a big cat. She's a Maine Coon, a breed reknowned for their largess. They're meant to be big, it's their job, and the Chairman is no slouch. My friends in Maryland both have cats, tiny little delicate creatures with sleek coats. Those three cats take up the space of my one cat, less when her fur is ruffled. They're always asking after my "big fat cat" and I always say "she's not fat, she's big furred". I used to think that I had a large frame and I'd never be smaller than a twelve, no matter how skinny I was. The dread big bones excuse.

It turns out I have itty bitty bones, they're just covered in fat. And muscle, I know there's a lot of muscle too, but mostly the fat. Remember that time I said I'd never be a size 8? I really believed it then, that my bones were huge and unwieldy and not fit for such a small size. I need to spend less time thinking because I'm not that far from becoming a size 8. There are no Mammoth genes hidden in my DNA. Just about 20 pounds of fat to burn off. I almost wish I could keep deluding myself that my bones are huge and my body is meant to be big and it's ok to eat all the time because I have to keep up my strength.

I can't believe it's only thursday and my big "eat the fruit!" challenge is almost over. I'm not sure how well it's going. Does eating three bananas and a pomegranate on friday night count as success? It's been sort of a weird week weight wise and I'm not sure how to categorize it. I wanted to have glowing success by tomorrow but I've had some bumps in my road. On monday my bestfriend's sister was here to visit for a possible move, so we had lunch out. I had to take her somewhere good, it would be excellent if they moved here. But that's nothing to last night's dinner at Pizza Hut.

Yes, Pizza Hut, I'm deeply shamed. We each had sort of a horrible day yesterday. I spilled the milk for my healthy Carnation Instant Lunch all over my new suede bag. I was out my lunch, all my stuff, and my new $8 dollar bag. Can you get milk stains out of suede? it seems not. You really can't get it out of mail or checkbooks either, Matt's bills got trashed...but I'm totally reusing the stamps, those bastards are expensive. And then home to no salmon defrosted for dinner. We didn't need pizza, particularly Pizza Hut pizza, but it felt right at the time. We had fun...and breadsticks, it was awesome. Sometimes it's nice to just let go, it's not a setback...it's just a pizza.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Good enough

I had something way less random in mind for a post and then all of a sudden it was time to go home. Somedays just fly, even when there is nothing interesting about them. Just time passing quickly while I stuff myself with mini Halloween chocolates. I'm supposed to have a healthy salmon filet for dinner. Odds on I make macaroni and cheese instead. It's definitely a mac and cheese kind of day.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

New and improved

Just as an FYI, I've changed the contact email on the sidebar. It has come to my attention that Juno bites. I've had that email address forever. Forever like since my parents upgraded our Apple2E to a Dell and I found out there was more to computers than green and black pixels the size of dogs. I set it up when I was 14 or so and defined myself by being an Ani Difranco fan. I was the coolest with my fan addled email addy. It's been good to me, lo these years...mostly. I never got spam. Increase your penis size? not me. Letters from billionaires trapped in Nigeria? pas moi. Little did I know it's been systematically deleting my email. All this time, whenever I couldn't find an email, I just assumed I deleted it. Whoops, I'm a scatterbrain! Is scatterbrained the right word for losing ten years of email? No, I need something with more syllables to really grasp the stupidity there.

Not that I need every email I've written since I was 14. "Ani is cool, so is DMB" "Yeah!" no, I really don't need those emails. But there were somethings that were important and are now gone. I was supposed to mail Jennette some clothes two sizes ago. Only my sister took a long time deciding what she wanted and not only did J-dog slim out of that size during the hemming and hawing, I lost the email I needed to close the deal. It seems that even without the spam, Juno can't handle my e-load. Never could, only I'm just now realizing it. So I've moved everything over to Gmail. The grass is greener and full of storage space.

I've made another change too, as both of the old blog readers will have noticed.

Dear Readers in Dublin and Lynn, Massachusetts: Thanks for sticking around the old digs. I didn't want to delete it and I didn't want to keep it, so I've made it authors only. Sorry. It's at once too embarrassing and too dead to revive, so Athena is now the only game in, err, my town. Welcome!

"I shot J.R."

I spent approximately one million dollars at the grocery store last night. Or maybe only $55. Being over-budget grates on my nerves, even if it's only 5 dollars. I bought a lot of great stuff though, the fresh and expensive kind of food that health conscious people buy. I picked up a pomegranate and a minneola, grapes and bananas, organic fat free milk and these painfully overpriced snap pea snack packs. 'Course just getting to say "snap pea snack pack" makes it worth the money.

You know how the "experts" or whoever say you should only shop the outside of the store because that is where all the fresh food is, they're completely right. The best stuff is on the outskirts of the store, but it's a serious budget breaker. It's going to be my challenge to get it all eaten while it's fresh, so this week I'll have no choice but to fill up on fresh food. It's amazing to me how I can make such a luxury into a hardship. Poor me, have to eat these grapes and that organic yogurt, so tragic.

Budgeting has been on my mind, like a vice grip, more than usual because I really want that new computer. Using my Discover card for everything is great and I really like earning the cashback, but it's hard to be on a budget and use plastic. Every budgeter knows you use cash because it gives you a better sense of the money actually being spent. This month I started using a register for my card, like the register for a checkbook. That is an eye-opening experience. Adding it all up yourself allows for no disillusion at all. Those three sets of Flight of the Conchords I bought for Christmas presents, oh yeah, no forgetting about that until the bill comes in the mail.

I get a lot of email about money questions, well, debt questions. It doesn't always occur to me how much I write about that stuff here. I can't deny it's a huge part of my life. I wonder what it will be like in a month or so when that's all over and all of my energy is spent on my other project...you know...those last twenty pounds. Maybe I'll have a calorie checkbook...banana credit 172...30 minutes of pilates debit 200. And then maybe I'll have an intervention.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Inches away...

I almost bought a new Macbook this weekend. Maybe not even inches, maybe it was centimeters. I was a click away from free shipping and Apple goodness at my fingertips. I pulled away at the last second, it would not be a responsible decision to buy a new computer right now. Next time though, the next time I'm home in tax free NH I'm buying one. So I'd better get my saving on between now and then. I was a very responsible shopper this weekend, I only splurged on a pair of clearance jeans at the Gap in a size 10A. A for Ankle, or Amy is short. But damn, a 10. I can honestly say that I never thought that would happen. Ever.

It's a little anti-climactic because while they fit better than my 12's, they don't look that great. No, that's not true. The jeans look great, it's the flesh that is not contained by the jeans that looks awful. I need a full-body jean, a jean jumpsuit. Or a girdle. Or more sit-ups. A lot more sit-ups. It occurs to me that I'm not going to be really happy with my body for a long time. I get to a point and I feel better than I ever have and then I move down a size and I feel like crap again. I am always reading my archives to keep some perspective, to remember what I could be going through. Last year, tomorrow, I was buying new jeans in a size 14 and worrying about taking my diet control too far. This year I don't think I'm being careful enough about the food I'm eating (see fastfood entry below) and I'm hating on my size 10 body. Maybe next October I'll have some balance to reflect on.

Friday, October 19, 2007

Multimedia message

this is what you get at mcdonalds when you ask for no meat: a meat salad.

Thursday, October 18, 2007


I'm not going away after all so I'll be trying out my ice cream maker tonight. I'm assuming it's going to be like trying out crack, or Netflix, and I won't be able to stop once I start. I'm very bummed that I won't be seeing my nearest and dearest this weekend but I am glad to have a day off for no good reason. The last two weeks have been full of bizarre happenings, and stress, and too much cold medicine.

The post I erased, if you saw it, was full of the bizarre. Matt and company are completely serious about the do-it-yourself demolition of some boulders in his brother's yard. I, being that I'll be visiting Nashua instead of Maryland, am completely serious about looking for a bridesmaid's dress for Holly's wedding. Her sister found something perfect in the right color on a clearance rack so I'm going to start looking for my own bargain. She asks only that it be Peridot, and long, the rest is up to me. The wedding's not till October of next year but if I can find a forty dollar dress like her sister did I'm buying it. If it doesn't work I'll just sell it on E-bay, or make it part of her wedding quilt, the options are endless.

I've been trying really hard not to think about all the weight I want to lose before she gets married. It's a guaranteed 10 pound gain to plan like that, so I'm forcing myself to roll with it. She says with gritted teeth. I have plenty of time to keep exercising and eat lots of veggies and take care of myself. Mantra, mantra, mantra. I've never had to fit in to a dress for anything before, geex it's not ever my wedding and I'm thinking like that. If I buy large they can take it in till the cows come home...can't they? It's a shame you can't stuff silk and taffeta in a dryer.

There's a feeling in my gut that I'll be shopping and eating all weekend with my family. There's also a feeling that I'll be dragging my sister Mac shopping to take her educator discount for a test drive. That would be bad for my getting out of debt plan, but good for my soul. All of a sudden I'm completely out of the patience I thought I had honed getting out of debt in the first place. I got the forms for setting up a phoneline today and I just can't wait to have internet at home. You know you're desperate when dial-up turns you on. Cross your fingers we get hooked up next week.

And last but not least, there were some kinks in what I thought was a very easy upgrade. I'm working on it it but if I've screwed up your link, let me know.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

A life in three words

I can't decide if I want to be happier about finally shifting the scale to 173.6 or making my second to last debt payment. I should probably not put this in writing, as surely a tree will fall on my car when I do, but it's sort of weird to me that I'm going to be out of debt before I'm at a reasonable goal weight. At the start both, uhm, problems were equally severe but I sort of thought I'd fix the weight thing first. I guess two years ago I wanted to be thin more than I wanted to be solvent. Or maybe I just thought it would be easier to lose 50 pounds than pay off thousands of dollars in debt. I imagined I'd always be pushing a rock up a hill on that one.

Have I ever mentioned exactly how much debt I had? No. I'd much rather tell strangers about my flesh rolls than leave that number to posterity. I suppose your weight is a more difficult secret to keep. When you're broke it's easy to pretend you're not, no one knows but you and your creditors. It comes to the same of ignoring a problem and having it snowball and then getting lost in an avalanche. Looking back, I don't know how I survived. I just don't know how I got through the days.

I've been doing a lot of taking stock lately, trying to appreciate what I have. All of my frustrations seem to be coming to a head at a very bad time. I suppose that's a little redundant because there is no good time for your frustrations to come to a head. "Frustrations" are by definition "frustrating". Otherwise they would be called "good times" and there would be ponies and mixed drinks and balloon animals. I like to think I've learned that you have to go through hard times to have good times but the concept is an easier sell when everything goes right.

This morning there was this thing on the radio about summing up your life in three words. We never listen to the radio. We usually listen to books on the morning commute but we just finished Harry Potter number four (Matt is very concerned about the return of this Voldemort character!) and there wasn't enough time to start something new. One of the radio examples was "running is prozac", which really resonated with me and how I'm feeling lately. I keep telling myself I'm not supposed to be running and yet I can't seem to stop. I've gone out every day since Sunday. There is some part of me that wants to be outside and running and it's screaming louder than my injury. I think I was supposed to hear the radio this morning and get some validation on my needs.

My three words: Meant to be.

What are yours?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

"That's disturbing. You're emotionally scarred and will end up badly."

It's been taking me forever to write posts lately. I've become the perfectionist editor that I hate. You'd think that if I know it makes me nervous to check my statcounter I wouldn't do it. But I do, just like the damn scale (174.2, again.), and then I feel a little smothered when I try to post. I didn't want to write that. I still want to delete it. It's the truth and that's what this place is supposed to be. The place where I come and tell the truth of my life, whether I like it or not. I felt a similar need to edit and re-edit after the Wall Street Journal blurb. I hate editing because I hate re-reading things I've written, there is always room for improvement. If I dwell too long on perfection nothing would ever get posted. The more time you spend editing the truth the less there is and then what's the point?

I'm used to this being a dance like no one is watching kind of place. There are a lot of eyes lately. Fancy decision making eyes. Many of which belong to Blogher and their ads department. Noticed that did you? The ads? Matt and I talked a lot about that. Talking about blog business with him is fascinating because it's not his world at all. Explaining the intricacies and talking them through with him makes him a really good sounding board. He asks questions I would never consider, he has a very different perspective on it. He thought it was a good idea to go forward with the ads, and so did I. I thought it was going to take a lot longer and it didn't, I'm still getting used to it. They're snappy at BlogherAds! Women on a mission. Since I'm a woman on a mission too it seemed a good idea to join up.

I just have to work through the feeling of being watched. That is sort of the point of a blog, the audience. If we didn't want an audience we'd all have the diaries with the little padlocks littering our bedrooms. There is a certain thing about being a weightloss blogger and then putting yourself out in the world. The thing that everyone you meet, talk to, email with knows the exact digits of your weight. Because you told them. On the internet. I have to remind myself of that all the time when I'm not sure about revealing something. If you can post your weight, you can say you ate a brownie in a ramekin. Is that sabotage for other people (and I got the e-mails and I'm sorry it bothered folks) or is a part of my truth? I say it's a part of my truth, I do pilates and I eat brownies and obviously I'm not losing any weight. So you don't have to tell me I'm never going to lose weight that way, I know. Thanks for the thoughts, but I can only do my best. Don't we all?

Monday, October 15, 2007

"And I never stepped on the cracks 'cause i thought i'd hurt my mother"

In the things I didn't expect to do department, this weekend was chock full. I bought myself an ice cream maker on clearance at Target. Do I need more reasons to eat ice cream, no. I bought it anyway. It's a lot of work so I won't be making ice cream all day/every day, probably. Although really it would be perfect if you had to make all your ice cream yourself and have like a waiting period...like with buying a gun. Safety first and all. Oh, and then Matt and I taste-tested the new (ish) pub in Bangor...and we tried a fried mars bar. The food was excellent, the fried candy was bizarre. We each had a bite and then finished off the whipped cream it came with. Fried chocolate! I dunno. I guess I expected the inner fat girl part of me to enjoy it more, like finding the holy grail of sumptuous foods.

The MDI marathon was this weekend. I thought about coming to town to see it, runner solidarity or something. But running, it's not really a spectator sport unless you're cheering on a friend. One of my sisters lived in Japan for the Olympics and the only tickets she could afford were for the cross country skiing event. She didn't go because pretty much you're paying to see people ski for about ten seconds until they're past you in the crowd. She spent her money in the bar after the events instead, a more worthy cause. I did, however, go for a very ill-advised run this weekend and it was awesome.

I am forever giving myself hell, in my head, about calling myself a runner. It's one of the many arenas in which I just can't seem to give myself the credit I am due. This weekend the weather was beautiful and crisp and I just wanted to run, so I did. I was careful of my knee and I walked the hardest hills. I'd say I ran about 2 miles of flat stretches. How many miles do you have to run to be a runner? I've given myself a glass ceiling on the subject. If anyone else said they ran for pure joy, I would call them a runner. Why not me? I need "give yourself a break" tattoed on my forehead.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Gin and tonic with a straw

Cheesecake for breakfast and pizza for lunch because I am dedicated to the healthy life. I'll be prostrating myself to the gods of the raised heart rate as soon as I get home tonight. Indoors, as it's pouring today and praise the lord for that. I need some water in the well so I can do some laundry and wash some dishes and run a bath without the devil on my shoulder. Everyone I know in the flesh remarks that Matt and I live a pioneer life. No cable, no phone, no internet, we are a modern day little house on the prairie. I made all those choices and took the distancing myself from the world in my stride, for the most part, but I just don't want to live without water. It's getting cold for the outhouse and it's a serious drag taking the laundry into town to wash. That would be the line right there, driving half an hour to do laundry. The line when crossed means that I lose my grip on sanity. Just so y'all know when I'm gone one day never to return it's because I had to take the towels on a joy ride to Ellsworth.

I've been thinking more and more that I need to do something about my un-interneted (un-internote?) state at home. Funny enough it was a topic of discussion at dinner with the SugarCrook. Funny because it's hilarious that I live the bulk of my life on-line and have no internet access at home. Hilarious as in not very smart and also a little bit ridiculous. So, ofcourse, I'm putting the cart before the horse and am shopping for computers. I don't have the ready cash for said purchase but there's no harm in looking. And drooling. And panting slightly if I were to be completely honest. I've got to learn all about wireless and Mac's and Air ports (do I even need one of those? I don't know, that's where the learning comes in). It would be good to figure all that stuff out before I go and make investments. It would also be good just to get dial-up and be satisfied for the short term, but that would be way too easy.

Another hilarious topic at dinner was the State of Maine and its' many eccentricities. It's such a card, the State of Maine. One of our favorite discussions is our lack of address and the unlikelihood of our getting one. I, being not on the deeds for the property, have less information about the address thing than Matt does. I hadn't thought about it for awhile but it does impact our ability to get trash picked up, saved in an emergency, and obtaining services like a phone line. I suppose if there was a fire they could follow the smoke, but why leave that up to chance? Like the guido death mobile parked on the back road. We don't have proof there is a body in the car so the police won't come and take it away (my imagination isn't proof enough, apparently). We'd have to pay to have it towed. Except we can't, because it's not technically on our property. So the mystery death car has property rights and we don't. And no one seems to know who makes the decision on what our address is. The state doesn't know, the town doesn't know. They're very close to having "Kiss our Asses Lane" coming off their state highway and then we'll see who knows what. Ahem.

Oh, and the scale...a whole pound down. It's a tenuous relationship we have. I have the feeling it's more accurate than I want, considering the number of brownies I ate this week. Still dropping though so that's something. Patience is a virtue, patience is a virtue...

Thursday, October 11, 2007

"Send whips of opinion down my back"

I keep reading posts about de-lurking day and I'm ashamed to say that I completely forgot about it. It occurs to me that I'm a terrible commenter in general, I don't give good feedback as in I give no feedback at all most of the time. I was just talking to Holly (best friend, getting married, bridesmaid dress decision of doom) about the colors for her wedding and she remarked that the groom's mother was sort of ambivalent about it. Holly has a big greek family unto which ambivalence has never fallen. Nothing passes in her family without fanfare and hand gestures and much discussion at loud volume. I've always thought it was sort of wonderful to visit her family and be a part of it, it's like living in technicolor after stepping out of Pleasantville. So to her receiving a shades of gray response is automatically equivalent to negative.

Holly is one of those people who squeal with delight and gasp with horror and it's completely her natural state of being. I love the drama of her responses to things. I spent most of my youth honing my skills to elicit those responses, but I never learned to be that way myself. I know Holly very well, so well that I've adjusted my Pleasantville demeanor up a notch to almost pastel over a period of years whenever I'm with her. But my natural state of being is not effusive, more defused. I'm pretty much the same way with blogs and emails and comments. Is that too much like a bad break up? It's not you, it's me...and give me back my black t-shirt.

What I'm really trying to say here is Hello Lurkers! Did that come through before, with the rambling? No, you say? So I'm cold and obscure? Excellent. I know there is something special about each of the blogs I visit every day, something that brings me back click after click. When I check my stats and see so many of you who come here day after day I flatter myself you see something special here and whether or not I know you by email or in comments I want to thank you for stopping by and encouraging me to blog on. Happy lurking day to you all.

And in fat news, which you may have noticed I've been avoiding as if it were contagious, I hate my new scale. 170 freaking 5. I know it says you have to wait a few hours after you get up and have an empty stomach and be naked and apparently the moon has to be in line with the seventh house because that number is b.s. I hate it. I'm not getting up at 3 just so I can sit awake and not eat or drink and wait till I'm about to leave the house at six and then strip and weigh for an accurate reading. That's just not going to happen. I know I'm still losing, my damn pants are all falling off. I've had to shrink every pair of jeans and then I get one good hour of proper fit. I know it could be lean muscle and not fat and blah blah blah but mostly i'm embracing the irrational. If anyone has suggestions regarding their tanita scale I'm all over hearing them. Tell me I'm not alone, I'll wax rhapsodic for you I swear!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

"Well baby I've been here before, I’ve seen this room and I've walked this floor"

It sometimes appalls me how very little I do with my time. The Matt will be working ridiculous overtime this week, and then in his spare time setting a foundation with his brother, moving rocks for our future foundation and also cutting a winter's worth of firewood. I am baking cookies tonight and going out to dinner tomorrow. Those are my strenuous plans for the week. I'm also scheduled to Pilate this afternoon. Is that a verb? That should totally be a verb. I'm going to Pilate my ass off. And then bake cookies.

Matt suggested I bake him cookies: a. because he likes them and b. because it warms up the house. My mother used to have a lot of unwritten rules for our house growing up. No one ever opened a box of cookies before she did, we never had soda except for pizza night, and she never turned the heat on before Thanksgiving. That was always the big one, no heat before Thanksgiving. They call them sweaters and you wear them, layer upon layer, until the end of November come hell or hypothermia. I used to think it was just a stubborn New Englander who feels no cold thing but apparently for a house to be warm you must pay for the oil or the wood or god forbid the electricity. Funny how growing up and paying bills gives one such clarity.

Long story, completely new paragraph...I've been freezing lately. FREEZING. Cannot be warmed, immune to heat, clinically dead except for the breathing. I think my blood circulates like three inches before it's like "dude, it's cold out i'm going home for cocoa". It's really very annoying. Particularly as it's induced Matt to sarcasm. He's the most completely sincere person I've ever known and I've driven him to sarcasm with my whining. "Maybe it's the weight?" my ass. Ofcourse it's the weight, chubby is the ultimate layering. 30 pounds is the sweatshirt you never have to tie around your waist. I've become one of those girls who is always cold and I'm not even at goal. Imagine how acerbic I'll have my partner by then...maybe he'll start reading the New Yorker.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

"You're just the torch to put the flame to all our guilt and shame"

I am right now trying to think of something to say. The weekend was sort of crappy. Uneventful when it should have been all business. What can you do. I'm trying really hard to roll with the punches. The scale is a bit up, but my twelves feel even larger than usual and my ring is about falling off. It should be tighter given the suspected water gain, but it's not. I'm starting to worry it'll just fall off one of these days. I'm almost wistful about that, though I really don't want to lose my school ring. Hood girls are weird about their rings, it's so much more than just a bit of gold to us.

I spent the weekend making Christmas crafts and baking. Because I'm 26 going on 80. I also pulled out the Halloween decoration, as Matt described it. The one and only. Last year I bought a plush Hello Kitty candy pail and I got to re-visit my neuroses when I came across it Saturday as it had the tags and the receipt still in it. PastaQueen compares compulsive shopping to compulsive eating, where does a compulsive returner fit in?

I've always been a returner. I had thought that I was getting better with my decision making but I guess not because I did a lot of returning this weekend. The skirt from Target that didn't go with the boots I bought and the boots I bought at Macy's that didn't go with that skirt, both returned. The dress from the Gap that I only bought for the skirt but then couldn't find anything that worked to cover the top, returned. The best one and the one that made Matt the most insane, which is always a bonus, was the scale. I bought the scale originally two weeks ago and I meant to buy it with my Discover bonus card thing-y. Only I tore through my bag and accidentally removed it before we left to go shopping. So I bought it with said Discover and Matt who is so good at rolling with the punches said "gee, you buy cooking crap all the time...don't worry about it". Which is totally normal. I could use it another time, but then I couldn't obsess over it like a freak. Obviously, I had to go back and buy another one with the card and then return it with the old receipt. Obviously.

Sometimes I think I could cure cancer with the brain power that goes into thinking about crap like that. Crap like if "I use this coupon at the store that doubles and I do it on a sale day then the carry the savings to the 11th power....." is always running through my head. And again I'm looking into lobotomy. It's a theme.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

"Just because this is never going to work, there's no need to be negative."

Remember when I wrote about being twelve and locking myself in my room to do push-ups and sit-ups to the tunes of fuzzy local television? I remembered a tidbit about that era recently, something I had almost forgot about. I was flipping through another of the new Pilates dvd's and on the back Ana is doing this sort of inverted pedaling a bicycle in the air thing. Hello, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman! Remember 1993-1998 when Jane Seymour was huge and her babies were Gerber babies and she married Sully and lived on the wild frontier? I do! I don't remember being obsessed with her, per se, but apparently at some point I watched some kind of biography/interview of her where she talked about her figure and they taped her exercising. I definitely remember her doing the inverted bicycle thing, although I didn't know it was Pilates. And I probably didn't care anyway because I was thirteen and I just really wanted to be tiny like all the other girls. I really believed the bicycle thing was the secret because Jane Seymour was tiny, and rich, and she played a doctor on tv. Jane Seymour wouldn't lie to me.

I added the bicycle thing to my daily repertoire of sit-ups, push-ups and the three mile bike ride I took on the dangerous back road with no helmet on. And then I'd come home and have a bowl of spaghetti with no sauce(fattening!) but plenty of cheese(protein!). It's a shock I didn't wake up one day Kate Moss, what with my unflinching dedication. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that I was so young and smaller than I ever knew because now I know how dangerous it is to randomly do a Pilates move you saw an actress do on tv that one time. I'm lucky I never hurt myself. Or got run-over. I couldn't say if I lost weight because of all my efforts, we never had a scale that worked. I have no idea what I was measuring against, or how I gauged my success. I have this vague feeling that it didn't matter because no matter what I did it wasn't going to be good enough.

I really hate thinking about that time in my life. I suppose puberty equates to years of self-loathing for a big chunk of society and we've all grown because of it but I'd really rather have the memories surgically removed. Liposuction of the brain. Lobotomy is so under-rated.

Monday, October 01, 2007

'I'll be fine. I think I've figured out how to steer by gesturing emphatically."

Saturday night Matt took me shopping. I needed interview clothes, kicking ass and taking names clothes. I bought a lot of things with the knowledge that I couldn't really pop back to the mall before Monday, not having a car and all (which is getting very, very old now...point of fact). I picked up a shirt and tights and a dress, and a skirt and a very expensive bra (of course it wasn't part of the sale...of course) and more boots. I tried on some pants too, size ten pants. They fit! Not well enough for an interview, but they buttoned without hassle and it looks like I'm getting very close.

The interview, it went very well. The nice man said I was personable! That's good right? Personable. I'm crossing everything I've got because I think that job could be a really good fit for me. That's the last I'm going to think of it so I don't completely jinx myself or go completely insane when I don't get called for a second round. Positive, Positive, Positive.

Hey, I got the new scale. I already hate it. I mean, it's honest and it says I weigh 173.something. Bastard. That's the kickster with getting a new scale, so much to learn about the new regime. I guess my new starting point is 173. Which I'm trying really hard not to think about because hello, size ten. I couldn't button a ten the last time I thought I weighed 173 so I'm going to keep it positive in this arena too. I just need to keep up with everything I'm doing and eventually I'll get where I want to go.

Everything I'm doing is pretty much pilates 'till I just can't pilates no more. I tried another of my new dvd's on saturday, it's like a pilates sample platter. The latest one is actually the first one I bought, the Body Band Challenge. Ana always does this little intro before the program starts and I always listen because I've learned a lot from the previous intros. On the Body Band Challenge intro she says all the usual stuff about working your core and breathing and yadda yadda "this is the most challenging workout I've ever put together". Say what? I know I've been saying that every new dvd/tool kicks my ass but this time I feel particularly validated. I sort of wish I had gone into it thinking "this dvd is for wusses" rather than "most challenging ever" but I think I did pretty well. I couldn't do everything, I did a lot of watching with trepidation but I think that's an important part of the process. When I master it won't I be smug?