This is okay

Friday, September 9, 2011

I knew this was going to happen. I was up two pounds this morning. But that's okay, because I'm in the middle of my fertile cycle and for some reason I retain water now as well as during my period. And I can TELL this is water weight -- I can see the puffiness in my wrists and ankles. My diet hasn't changed, my exercise hasn't changed. My body is just pulling its usual complaint about being female.

So that's all right. It'll drain off in a day or two -- in the meantime, I'll keep on doing what I've been doing and everything will be okay.


Okay, granted, I'm not a Marine, but I'm the daughter of one so I'm claiming familial rights. Anyhoo, things at the gym are continuing rather nicely -- I did a half hour on the bike at a level 7 on hills and then lifted weights until my hands were trembling from the strain. I feel achy but absolutely freaking righteous.

The wheat-free regimen continues, and I'm starting to think that William Davis M.D. has a big ol' horking point. I haven't lost scads of weight, but I've also only been doing this since, what, Saturday? What I HAVE noticed is that I feel a heck of a lot better -- my knees aren't aching nearly as much as usual, and I'm getting that same sensation I felt when I was doing Atkins, like I had a little furnace burning away inside my abdomen. Unlike Atkins, however, I'm not hungry at all this time, and what I'm eating (oatmeal and fruit as well as veggies) is providing me with scads of fiber so there will be no repeat of the Unfortunate Incident that abruptly ended my experience with Atkins.

Also, my tummy is visibly smaller. WOOHOO! Dear sweet Flying Spaghetti Monster, if I can get rid of this duck silhouette I will be the happiest camper in creation.

May I just say

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

That Oogie's Organic Cheese Popcorn (also gluten-free, not that I can figure out how gluten comes into the picture with popcorn but whatever) is to die for. For one thing, it actually tastes like cheese instead of salt, and a cup of it makes a lovely crispy cheesy side to a peanut butter and spelt sandwich.

No change in those numbers yet, but I didn't think there would be today. This will definitely be a case of baby steps. And now, off to the gym for a half hour on the bike and weights, tra la!

Just charming

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Last week, we got notices from our credit union that we could apply for term life insurance through them. Since our life insurance ended with my contract, and since if (God forbid) anything happens to Lyndon I'm sort of screwed, I signed us both up for the insurance.

Got two letters and a packet today. The packet contains details about the insurance policy -- for Lyndon. Apparently I'm too fat to be eligible for term life insurance, despite the fact that I exercise regularly, have normal BP, heart rate, A1C numbers and cholesterol, and in general am pretty damned healthy.

I have never been turned down for term life insurance before in my life, so fuck you, CUNA. I'm going with AAA for life insurance, and you can kiss my fat white ass.

You remember that good number?

Monday, September 5, 2011

Yeah, well, I saw one that was lower this morning. I did the *blink*blink* thing just to make sure, but it was still there.

I'm still terrified of screwing up and somehow whopping on 30 pounds, but as part of the distraction procedure I'm trying to keep myself horrendously busy and too involved in writing, cleaning, looking after the furballs, podcasting and crafting to do anything except eat what's in the fridge (this includes baby carrots, Greek yogurt, gluten-free bread, tarragon chicken salad, oatmeal makings, and protein shake makings) and maintain the exercise (walking around the hood last night, stationary bike and weightlifting tonight). I would very, very much like to see a number that is 5 digits lower than what I saw today, and for the first time in a very, very long while this now seems like a possibility.

Oh, and because I'm shallow as a puddle, part of this is also being driven by the fact that there's going to be a NOH8 photography event taking place in Dallas come October, and my friend Fazia and I will be attending and getting NOH8 headshots. I know there are limits to what I can do before October 15th, but I would be a very happy camper if I could at least look a little less puffy around the face.

Conflict Diamond and Yoga

Saturday, September 3, 2011

I know that yoga is good for me, honest. I'm fully aware that it provides flexibility, balance, cardiovascular health, inner peace, all that stuff. Plus Benedict Cumberbatch does it and the man has the body of a Greek god, so if you're lucky you get pretty things to look at in class, as well.

And I've tried a class. It wrenched my bad knee, completely kicked my ass, left me drenched in sweat, and it was advertised as "Gentle Yoga" so I can only imagine what a regular class is like. So yeah, I know it can be tough when you start.

So why don't I want to go back to this place? They were certainly pleasant and low-key (the teacher was a substitute and was perhaps a bit sniffy when I explained that I had bad knees and would not be doing certain positions as a result, but I'm not an idiot and I know my body's limits, and trying to do Warrior I makes my knee try to dislocate) Upon further consideration, I think it's because the woo-woo crap associated with yoga gets right up my nose.

Okay, fine, I'm a troglodyte. But I'm really don't care which chakras get opened during a particular pose, and frankly it's kind of hard to achieve inner peace when sweat is dripping into my eyes and I'm wondering if I'm about to pass out from oxygen deprivation due to being bent in two. I just want to stretch and strengthen my body, not have a dialog with my inner child. She's a fucking brat, anyway.

To make matters worse, I was reading an article about some hard-core yoga class, and how on the first day some of the students were late. The teacher informed them that they had no integrity because they'd agreed to come to the class on time and hadn't. The article didn't mention how any of the students whacked the teacher in the head with a water bottle before storming out of the room, so I assume they all kept their cool and accepted his judgement. That being said, if I show up late for something, there's usually a damn good reason, and if you get into my face telling me that I have no integrity because of it, I will demonstrate just how far a tightly wrapped yoga mat can be inserted into the human rectum.

I dunno. Maybe Pilates would be a better fit for me.


Okay, I know this is going to sound weird, so bear with me. I saw a number on the scale this morning, a number I haven't seen in years. A good number. In retrospect it shouldn't be all that surprising -- I've been following a reasonable eating plan (apropos of nothing, plain Greek yogurt with French Onion mix in it is freaking gorgeous with baby carrots -- you can pretty much gorge on it and all you do is up your protein and fiber intake) and getting my butt out to the gym on a semi-regular basis as well as doing chores around the house -- but it still startled me a little when I saw it.

And now...I'm worried. I'm worried I'm going to jack this up by going totally overboard and only eating 800 calories a day (which just sends my metabolism into famine mode). Seriously, I need a distraction, something that will keep my conscious mind totally occupied so that it doesn't focus on what my metabolism is doing. Suggestions are welcome.

Fucked Up

Sunday, August 7, 2011

I've been rereading the entries for the past year, especially the ones about what I've been eating, and man, I really have been blowing a load of bullshit, haven't I? I exercise, and go out and eat crap, and then wonder why it's so hard to lose weight.

When it comes down to it, I have a problem with food. My mother, who was chubby when she was a girl, was bound and determined to make sure that I, a tall and chubby child, would not go through the teasing she did. As a result, I was made to endure every crack diet in the Western Hemisphere, taken to a diet doctor and put on amphetamines when I was in 4th Grade (how Judy Garland), told to get out of the fridge when I was genuinely hungry, and basically had my food fucked with until I went away to college, all in the name of being slender and pretty. I still remember being forced to eat cottage cheese and raw hamburger, and dreaming of the day when I could go to a store or a fast food place by myself and eat anything I wanted. Needless to say, this isn't a healthy mindset to grow up with.

Thing is, I'm an adult now, and I have to take responsibility for my own actions and what goes in my mouth. it's just that reprogramming the instinct to view food as a reward or something that provides comfort isn't the easiest thing to do, and it's something I'm still working on (finding substitutes and alternate ways of reducing stress hasn't been all that successful to date). I guess what I'm saying is that I know my nutrition sucks, and I have to work on it.

And lo, the waters receedeth

Saturday, July 16, 2011

As I thought, the bloat is coming off (although it went frighteningly high until I looked up the side effects of one supplement and saw "water retention" as its most common side effect. Guess what I'm not taking anymore?) -- I wound up peeing away five pounds between Wednesday and Thursday. Whee.

Also did a moderately painful leg workout at the gym tonight, but I'm afraid it was very necessary -- my LEFT knee is starting to lock up, now, which means my quads have turned into flabby shadows of themselves and must be whipped back into shape. I'd still give an ovary for a scrip of Celebrex, but whatever.


Saturday, July 9, 2011

Did a perfectly lovely weight workout tonight, but I'm more than a little achy due to forgetting that I can't take multivitamins.

"What in the wide world of sports are you talking about, Melanie?" I can hear you say. Well, my quirky metabolism seems to react badly to one of the minerals or trace elements in your average multivitamin and triggers one doozy of an inflammation response, with the result that I retain more water than your average camel. In the last three days (when I started taking the multivitamin along with fish oil and Vitamin C in order to moderate some mood issues), I've put on about seven pounds, all of it quite clearly water. I'm not worried because it will come off, but in the meantime it's making my joints ache like a bitch. I'm hoping that the weight workout will kickstart the draining mechanism, and until then there's always ibu and ice.

What is possible?

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

I think I'm running into an interesting mental roadblock with this whole weight loss thing. While intellectually I know perfectly well that I *can* lose weight if I eat right and exercise, there's a very large part of my brain that says, "Don't be silly, of course that isn't going to happen, you've always been this size and you'll always be this size. You can't change, so forget about it."

It's not so much the subconscious being a Debbie Downer -- it's more like being a medieval peasant who insists that the Sun goes around the Earth because that's what the Bible says, and anyone who says different must be possessed by demons and needs to be burned at the stake for the sake of their immortal soul. Okay, that's a bit OTT, but you see what I mean -- this is a serious, deep-down belief that I'm trying to change here, and it's damn hard.

Part of the problem is that I have never, ever been normal sized. I was tall and chubby as a child, and I grew into a tall, fat woman. Now that I'm trying to reduce the fat and replace it with muscle, I'm realizing that I can't effectively imagine how I want to look, because I've never been anything other than fat. I look at other women who are at a healthy weight, and no shit, part of me honestly thinks, "She must be a robot -- real people can't be that small. Where are her organs? Can she even breathe?"

Yeah, well, no one ever accused the subconscious of being a bastion of logic. In my heart of hearts, I kinda wish that I could spend a day in the body of someone who is normal sized, just so that I could see that yeah, that kind of body is real. (And maybe do a little shopping, but that's just me.) Unfortunately simstim isn't a viable technology yet, so I'm going to have to do this the old-fashioned way and figure out a psychological way around the block.

Suggestions are welcome.


I think I may have to ease off on the cycling a bit, at least until I can strengthen my quads and stop my damn patella from jumping its groove every time I take a step. I am very, VERY tired of having a swollen, sore knee (thank you, John, wherever you are), and it's especially annoying that I can't go see a doctor because we're currently short of medical insurance. I would kill or die for a week's worth of Celebrex at the moment, I can tell you that much.


Why is the back yard spinning?

Monday, June 27, 2011

What do you do when the temps go up? Why, swim in your pool, of course.

Which is what I did tonight, complete with my new suit (note to self -- don't dive in front of other people. The top holds the twins very nicely, but water drag allows them to make a break for it), and did ten laps. And then got out of the pool because my sinuses started screaming at me, and then the back yard started going all wibbly wobbly (but not, sad to say, timey-wimey). Obviously there are inner ear issues that need to be addressed here, not to mention a dire need for goggles.

Hmm. In retrospect, it probably would have helped if I'd had more to eat today than a sandwich, some chips and a bowl of popcorn, she said as she sucked down her protein shake and felt every cell in her body scream, "WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU HAVE THIS EARLIER, YOU SADISTIC BITCH?"

By the way, I'm still cycling, but with daily temps approaching the 100s on a regular basis I freely admit that I've been wimping out and using the bike at the gym. I need to get one of those trainer dinguses that I can park the back of my bike on and pedal while I watch a movie.

And the temperatures go up

Monday, May 30, 2011

Since I slept through the ridable temps (yeah, yeah, I know, but if I go out there in 90°F+ heat right now, I'll die of heatstroke), I hied my ass over to the gym and hopped on the spinny thingy for twenty minutes before hitting the weights. My legs certainly had much to say to me after I got off the spinny thingy, but I told them to pull on their big boy panties and cowgirl up, already.

I am starting to see some changes in my arms and legs -- nothing in the midsection yet, but that's always the last to go. My calves are starting to show some serious definition, though, and so are my forearms. Even my flabby upper arms don't look quite as poofy as they used to be, which is all good.

Know what I REALLY want to see? My clavicle. I would love to have visible collarbones.

Okay, I'm Dumb

Thursday, May 26, 2011

But in my defense, no one ever TOLD me that you can adjust stuff on your bike, or that you need to 1) make sure that you're riding the right size frame for your body, 2) get a seat that isn't trying to embed itself in your crotch, and 3) should adjust the seat AND handlebar height so that you can ride comfortably.

Anyway, post-ride, the rest of the morning was spent tweaking the bike's handlebars. And for the hardcore riders out there, yes, I know that the ideal racing position is bent over the handlebars with a flat back. But as I am not going to be in the Tour de France any time soon and have a hybrid bike that is designed for grannies who want to tootle back and forth to the store (although I CAN get a good head of speed on it when I try), I want to be comfortable on the damn thing.

Thus, I set the seat at a relatively comfortable height (I still need to boost myself onto it, which must look hilarious), and raised the handlebars right smack up to the safety line (any farther up and I'd have less than 2 inches of stem in the fork, which would make it very likely that stem and fork would part ways during a ride and I would go boom), then adjusted the front brakes to allow for the additional .75" of stem height. As a result, I can sit up while riding, the bulk of my weight is on my seat instead of my arms (which is fine and why I bought the Fat Bottomed Girl seat in the first place), and my wrists aren't shrieking in agony after a ride. All in all, a much more pleasant riding experience.

On the road again

Yes, I am Queen of the Mushroom People. But at least my head is protected when I'm on the bike.

I purchased and put a Fat Bottomed Girl seat on the bike yesterday, and MAN that made a difference -- I rode for almost two miles this morning and my pelvic bones weren't screaming at me at all. Now I just have to bump the handlebars up a bit, and I should be ready to cruise. Lyndon's even talking about tuning up his bike and joining me -- yay!

So, I got my bike back

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

After a bit of faffing about -- turned out that the front inner tube was leaky and the tire was flat by the time I got it home. I pumped it up again just to be sure, and could hear the hissing noise.

So I tossed it back in the truck and went back to the bike store, where they cheerfully replaced the tube while I tried on helmets and bought a water bottle and holder for the bike. I think I look absolutely ridiculous in the helmet, so I may take it back and see if I can find something a little more low-riding.

But the important thing is, I just went for a bike ride for the first time in over a decade -- down past Capstone park and maybe a mile total round trip into the local greenbelt. My face is the color of raw hamburger, my pelvic bones are screaming at me, as are my thigh muscles, and I have scrapes all up and down my right leg from getting the pedal into position to get on the bike.

I think I'm going again tomorrow.

Sometimes, you just have to hit the road

Friday, May 13, 2011

Lyndon isn't feeling well (neither was I last night, to be honest -- I'm guessing a mild 24-hour bug for both of us), so I was able to grab his truck this morning and run my bike over to the bike shop.

I have a CBS ProMax that I bought in Sweden -- it was quite handy for getting back and forth to the store since it had these nice wire saddlebag-type baskets that I could stuff shopping in, and once I installed a bigger seat for my bigger butt, it was pretty comfortable to ride.

It's been languishing in the garage next to Lyndon's Raleigh for about ten years, now. The tubes are pretty much gone, the chain's in dodgy condition, and it's more than a little dusty. I'd stopped in on Wednesday at the bike shop to make sure they could fix bikes as well as sell them -- the nice tattooed guy at the repair counter said to bring mine on in and he'd give me an estimate.

This happened this morning. He didn't seem too fussed about the idea that it had been sitting around for ten years -- apparently the tires are still in pretty good shape, and all that really needs to be replaced are the tubes and cabling, after which he'll give it a tune-up and it should be ready for the road.

He said I could have it back by May 23, after 5 PM. By 6 PM, I hope to be wobbling down one of the local bike paths. Whee!

Bruised, and loving it

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

As I lie here on the couch (having walked in 78°F heat, 78% humidity and light drizzle for 25 minutes -- would've been longer but for the drizzle), freshly showered and musing over the idea of hitting the hay early for once, I find myself looking at my right arm. In the past few days, I've carried a large old TV out to the car in an attempt to donate it to Goodwill (the man at the collection area just looked at it and laughed -- finally left it out back for the trash scavengers), cleaned the bedroom, carried ladders and vacuum cleaners up and down stairs, and generally been active about the house.

I also bruise easily -- got that from my mother. A friend once gave me an acupressure treatment on my back, and was horrified the next morning at the deep blue Turner seascape-esque blotches that bloomed overnight on my skin. I had to reassure her that she hadn't been torturing me, it was just the way my skin reacted to pressure. And the way my torso looked after a good fencing session can only be described as "Dalmatian."

So it shouldn't come as a surprise that after the last few days, I have three small but distinct bruises high and inside on my upper right arm from where the frame of the TV dug into the muscle, a smudgy bruise on my outer forearm from banging the ladder against it, and a small pink bruise on my inner forearm from God knows what.

And I like them. This may sound idiotic, but I kinda feel like Xena, Warrior SF Writer when I look at my mottled skin. Yeah, they ache a bit, but they remind me of the work I did to get them, and that's kind of cool.

I Anen't Dead

Sorry about that -- life got...a little complicated over the last six months or so. That being said, life has just become remarkably uncomplicated because I finished my contract last week, so I can start doing things like, oh, blogging on a regular basis again.

So, what's been happening with me? Well, health-wise I completely blew my triathlon training, not to mention going to the gym on a regular basis, and generally felt like shit for quite a few months there due to a wide variety of stressors. My crowning moment came when I went to see some friends in a play down in Orlando (which was wonderful, by the way), and couldn't fit in the theater seat. I was just too fat to sit down. Yeah, that was humiliating. I finally managed to Tetris my ass into the seat, tearing my jeans in the process, and bolted for the box office at intermission to beg for anywhere else that could handle a big woman's ass. Luckily they gave me a lovely freestanding chair next to the door, and Lyndon was even able to move with me, but there were a few moments there where all I wanted to do was burst into tears (a very nice man came up to me during intermission and told me that I had an absolutely lovely laugh -- I don't know if he was trying to make me feel better or what, but it did help).

Sometimes, however, you need a kick in the ass like that. And combined with the fact that I was about to be turfed from the Death Star, I decided it was time to make some permanent changes in my life. I'm tired of dreading plane flights because coach seats are massively uncomfortable for a woman of my size. I want to be able to sleep comfortably in a hotel bed -- or, hell, in my own bed without the aid of fifteen million pillows. I'd like to wear clothes that don't have multiple X's on the label. For that matter, I'd like to shop for clothes in a regular person's store -- I've never done that as an adult.

So, what am I doing? Well, some simple things to start out with -- I'm trying to move every day, even if it's just housework. I'm eating small meals every 3 hours, and I try to stay with lean protein and veggies whenever possible. Tomorrow is my first yoga class, Cthulhu help me. And I want to take my bike into a local bike shop and see about getting it generally tuned up, since it's been sitting in the garage for the last 10 years. There are all kinds of bike paths around here -- I'm going to look like a fat idiot on a bike, but at least I'll be out there riding.

WEIGHT: 308.2