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.

*blink*blink*

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.

Graaaagh!

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.

Stupid...argh...knee...

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.

Arrgh!